I was fourteen years old and could only salivate after the thought of what had transpired in the summer of '69.
An entire generation was going to the moon.
Everywhere was a song and a celebration.
The jet bombers turned into butterflies.
We were stardust. We were Golden.
Was that it? Was that our School of Athens moment? Was that truly the dawn of a new age?
THAT WAS FIFTY YEARS AGO.
Today, the only line that seems to ring true is credited to the WHO: .......same as the old boss. We did get fooled again, and again.
I painted " Woodstock 50: Unearthed " as an archaeological fragment, a slightly worn out figment of my imagination dug out of the fondest rose-coloured memories of a youth who waited in the wings, watched longingly from the sidelines. Too young and Catholic to truly participate, but old enough to know what was going on. Fifty years on, I wouldn't trade my vantage point for the world. I gave it a passing thought that summer-how could I possibly get there, and how much would it cost?
But I had to work.
At my grandfather's grocery store.
Didn't stop me from dreaming about it, though.
Plus it was in New York.
My dream will have to do.
"Woodstock 50: Unearthed" , mixed media on wood, 48"x60" by Pietro Adamo.