• About
  • Thoughts
  • Contact
Menu

MCHL WGGNS

Creative
  • About
  • Thoughts
  • Contact
×

Kent Wears My Glasses | Los Angeles, CA | 1990

In Memory

MCHL WGGNS March 20, 2025

"Don't hang up," I pleaded at the last second.
"Oh, okay," he said casually. "Let me fix my drink."
I listened to him get out of bed and light a cigarette.
"Just walking to the kitchen," he reported.
"Sounds good … love you."
"Love you too."

I met Kent in 1985. We both worked at the Ken Cinema in San Diego. He was a projectionist and I made popcorn. We eventually learned that both of us loved to boogie. So we played records and danced until 2 a.m. Then we kissed on the couch which belonged to his roommate, Ernie.

Forty years later, we remembered all that—the get downs and the reefer and the beers on tap.

I became a fan of Barry White thanks to DJ Kent on Monday nights at the Whistle Stop, which was a casual, low-lit gay bar in South Park where Kent would often play the silky baritones of the Prince of Pillow Talk: "I've heard people say that, too much of anything is no good for you, baby … but, I don't know about that.” Kent and I would agree:

We can’t get enough of that L-O-V-E

I cherish my record collection. And I probably (👀, girrrrrl*) have some of Kent's vinyl in the bins. This makes me happy.

* Kent’s voice in my head.



❤️ Kent Landis Hartman ❤️
(1953–2025)





⌘

Tags Booze, Compassion, Dancing, Good Feelings, Flowers, Grieving, Happiness, Kent, Love, Melancholy, Music, Nonfiction, San Diego, The 80s, Vinyl

The Chalkboard | Baltimore, MD | 2022

Breezy Meditations on Urban Still Life: Part II

MCHL WGGNS August 30, 2022

My work is about style and style begets something else. But before I get to the begetting, I'd like to talk about what I mean by style.

I consider my style as breezy meditations on urban still life. I use the word breezy as a way of saying laid-back or mellow. And meditations refer to simple images that you can sit with and contemplate. My compositions are urban because I live in the city of Baltimore and I take pictures while walking around the streets. And I use the words still life because my work generally focuses on a single object of interest without the distraction of people. So in general my work is informed by style, but how did this style come about? Let's get to it.

My style is the result of character, and in particular, my social personality, since all of my photography happens in a social environment; an urban city with lots of diversity. But let's break down the personality word-by-word. 

Breezy. Yes, I am a mellow dude. And when I go on a big urban walkabout I'm typically under the influence of L-O-V-E. This laid-back attitude begets my meditative state.

Meditations. I walk slowly because I’m always looking. I’m also not in any kind of hurry because I dedicate a good three to four hours on the process. I learned to meditate back when I lived in Los Angeles in the late 80s. We (Elle and I) have five meditation cushions and four yoga mats so I’m always down for a good, slow asana. Elle even wears a silver turtle on her bracelet, the charm being a little momento I bought in Tijuana back in the 70s. So yeah, we embrace slowness, and meditation is all about slowing things down. When I see something on my walk that looks cool, I contemplate all the possibilities: the subject, the framing, the light, the surroundings. No rush. This contemplation begets a mindful sense of my urban environment. 

Urban. Obviously I live in Baltimore, and the city is still fairly new to me. It’s been exactly two years. But another 40 years of my life was spent in LA and NYC. I know the streets. I also know that all my photos these days are part of my ongoing series of Baltimore exteriors so there are certain things about each picture that generally fit the theme, such as: no people, no cars and minimally banal. And there must be a sense of a fairly robust and diverse city as the urban environment is where I am most comfortable and being spatially contented begets my meditative stillness. 

Still life. I have social melancholy so I avoid crowds and noisy places which bodes well for some of the thematic elements of my series. My innate uncomfortableness guides me to the narrow alleys and the lonesome side streets. This is my natural element, the places where I can meditate on the minutia.

Breezy meditations on urban still life: a style that begets my peace and happiness.





⌘

Tags Baltimore, Dee, Happiness, Love, Meditation, Melancholy, Nonfiction, Photography, The 70s, The 80s

My Record Collection (1952-1992) | Baltimore, MD | 2021

My Record Collection: (1952-1992)

MCHL WGGNS October 15, 2021

The collection can be viewed in three separate galleries:

1952-1969 (140 records)
1970-1979 (249 records)
1980-1992 (211 records)

From the flip side of Dave Van Ronk's album, Just Dave Van Ronk, 1964

Vinyl is heavy, man.

My record collection weighs approximately 369 pounds. This estimate is based on the average weight of a piece of vinyl, plus the album cover, being 9 ounces. Then you multiply that number by 600 records and add another 30 pounds for the milk crates that keep everybody upright. I've carted this assemblage from Los Angeles to New York, then to Virginia, and now Baltimore.

I decided to turn my record collection into a piece of visual art to lighten my load. With each passing year I let go of more stuff. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. I remember laughter, I remember heartache and I remember love. My record collection spans the years from 1952 through 1992—a time before I was born to a time nearly 30 years ago. I've carried my past across the country. I respect the journey of my ancestors and myself. But today I am lighter. And here's the truth—I didn't know I had a record by Dave Van Ronk until I started this project. Like Dave, I have no interest in telling a lie when I open up my heart. I open up my heart by meditating, which is weightless, and meditation opens my awareness. My awareness has no age.

My earliest recollection of vinyl was back in the early 70s, which is one of the reasons why 41% of my collection is from that era. The record that got the most rotation back-in-the-day was this little pumpkin:

1971 | Harry Nilsson | Nilsson Schmilsson (photo by Dean Torrance)

Everything about the album resonated with me until I was deep into my 20s, my 30s, maybe forever. So many fun times with family and friends, laughing, dancing, getting stoned. Harry's hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hand cradling his pipe. The gentleness of it all. The cozy ass kitchen with the refrigerator calendar. If we weren't letting the good times roll in the living room, we were in the kitchen, cooking Italian, playing games, conjugating until the wee hours. Harry was a God, my role model. And so was Uncle Tom, my Mom's brother, the cool cat who introduced me to Harry Nilsson. We all just wanted to be free, to be lighter, to drink it all up.

Another reason I have a ton of records from the 70s is because of my friend, Kent. Back in the early 80s, Kent had a Monday night gig spinning records at the Whistle Stop, which was a small club in the South Park neighborhood of San Diego.

Flyer by Kent Landis, 1985

Kent and I loved to have fun together. One day he invited me to join him on Mondays to play our favorite records, drink beers, smoke weed, boogie down and eat hot dogs. It was heaven. Kent loved music from the 70s, so this naturally rubbed off on me. Even though I moved back to Los Angeles after graduating from UCSD in 1986, I always imagined we would play music again. So Kent was on my mind whenever I was at a thrift shop looking for fresh wax. I would say to myself, "Kent would dig this." We never got that opportunity to spin again, but if we did, this is the first record I would play for him:

1975 | Gloria Gaynor | Never Can Say Goodbye (photo by Bernie Block)

I always thought my records were kinda groovy. Although the collection was cumbersome, the nostalgia of it all was definitely worthwhile. Collecting records was a thing. I mean, just the cover art alone was worth the effort and mondo trippy, not to mention the crazy music. The act of holding an album in your hands, studying it, reading the liner notes, pulling out the record, cleaning the vinyl, hearing the pops and cracks as the record spun round-and-round. The whole thing was romantic and visceral. And thanks to Kent, making sure your collection had both the classics and the schmaltz. Be diverse, have fun. So that's what I did. 

In 1990, my record collection became truly vintage. That's when my father's wife, Gloria Kersey, gifted me the record collection that belonged to her husband, Chuck, who passed away in 1984. And speaking of the 80s, my father took me to see the Steelers play the Rams at the Superbowl in Pasadena in 1980. We had great seats on the 50 yard line courtesy of our hosts, the Biltmore Hotel. I was 16 years old, the weather was perfect and everyone was drinking beer, including me. Before the opening kickoff, a friendly fella from the hotel bought a bunch of hot dogs for everyone to munch on. I was stoked and hungry. I had no idea who the guy was but he was instantly a major dude. That man was Chuck Kersey. It wasn't until I flipped through his record collection in 1990 that I realized Chuck was a full-on jazz head. His collection made my collection go from cabernet to cognac. 

One sweet piece of vinyl from the Kersey repertoire is this:

1956 | Chet Baker | Chet Baker Sings (photo by William Claxton)

I collected most of my records while I was living in Los Angeles in the late 80s and early 90s. When I moved to NYC in 1995, I pretty much turned to CDs and then mp3s. But those post college years in LA were a great time for vinyl enthusiasts and thankfully I had some decent jobs to support my jones. During this period of deep accumulation, I became a huge fan of reggae, and consequently, a regular at the Kingston 12 in Santa Monica on Thursday nights. It was a ritual for me. I would roll up in my yellow VW Rabbit, smoke some ganja, and then dance for a couple of hours with the other Rastas. Jah! In honor of these irie times, I would have to say that my favorite album cover is this piece of candy right here:

1974 | Jimmy Cliff | Struggling Man (illustration by David Dragon)

Creating an archive of my vinyl was a calling. I was in a p-funk and I needed to heal my chi, so I created a self-help project that required absolute focus, dedication and love. Operation Free My Mind.  

Each album cover was scanned four times: top-left, top-right, bottom-left and bottom-right. I merged these four sections in Photoshop and cropped the result into a perfect square. I color corrected the final images to best resemble the original artwork, but I didn’t retouch anything because I wanted to see the wear and imperfections of each cover. I created unique titles for every digitized file according to the year, the artist and the title of the album. My last step was to create a collage of all the records, in chronological order, left-to-right, top-to-bottom, which I did in Photoshop. I worked on this project every day for five weeks and I worked eight hours a day, or 280 hours in total. 

My intention was to make the record collection feel as though you were actually in my living room thumbing through the dusty stacks. Wine, weed and snacks—totally optional.

Jimmy Cliff was singing about those good old days. I guess I am too. Archiving my record collection was a blunt way for me to confront the past in order to find peace in the present. Did it work?

The best days of my life are right here, right now. 

My mind is free.


P.S. The songs on this blog were recorded by me from my actual record collection which is why you might hear some pops and cracks.  





⌘

Tags Grieving, Kent, Los Angeles, Love, Meditation, Melancholy, Mom, Music, Nonfiction, NYC, Pops, San Diego, The 70s, The 80s, Vinyl
Older →
Archives
  • 2026
  • 2025
  • 2024
  • 2023
  • 2022
  • 2021
  • 2020
  • 2019
  • 2018
  • 2017
  • Accounting
  • Art
  • Baltimore
  • Bliss
  • Books
  • Booze
  • Brother
  • Cancer
  • Chamomile
  • Chevy Colorado
  • Chocolate
  • Church
  • Cigs
  • Coffee
  • Compassion
  • Cooking
  • Dancing
  • Dee
  • Doug
  • Dunbar
  • Eclipse
  • Exhibitions
  • Faith
  • Fiction
  • Filmmaking
  • Flowers
  • Food
  • Good Feelings
  • Grieving
  • Happiness
  • Horse Racing
  • James
  • Jesse
  • Kent
  • Kerrville
  • Kung Fu
  • Los Angeles
  • Love
  • Meditation
  • Melancholy
  • Mom
  • Music
  • Nonfiction
  • NYC
  • Photography
  • Poetry
  • Pops
  • Ram Dass
  • Road Trip
  • San Antonio
  • San Diego
  • Steelers
  • Surfing
  • Teaching
  • The 70s
  • The 80s
  • UCSD
  • Video
  • Vinyl
  • Virginia
  • Yoga

MCHL WGGNS