By Robert Beck

I came early to Verdi Square to paint the man who plays music every weekend. He wasn’t there when I arrived, but since he’s always occupied the same spot when I’ve seen him, I set up facing that way in anticipation and started putting in the landscape. It wasn’t long before he came across the square with all his gear in one of those fold-up shopping carts. His keyboard was sticking out the top.

The music man’s name is Mike, and he’s a thin, lanky man with a black jacket and pants, black hat, and shades. The locals call him Maestro. He plays a fun selection of lively stuff, cool jazz, popular classics, and the mandatory Sinatra. I liked the idea of him performing in front of the monument to Giuseppe Verdi. Verdi’s marble figure is out of the painting’s picture frame, but others representing his operas overlooked Maestro Mike as he entertained the people in the square.

Painting in a public place without an elevated position is risky. It’s easy to have your view blocked, so I concentrated on quickly painting everything at eye level first. A woman was on a bench in a red coat and a couple was wearing black on another. The pavement belonged to the pigeons, for the moment. An angry man waving his arms, yelling at nobody and everybody, went by me into the subway head-house. People stayed out of his way.

Few people noticed me working, and fewer cared. First came the Girl Scouts, setting up tables to sell stuff directly between me and the music man. A gardener pointed that out to them and suggested they move to another location. They slid everything to the side about four feet. Now, the line at their table was in front of me. One scout decided it was good marketing to balance a box of cookies on her head while loudly requesting people purchase them. The box fell off repeatedly. She would put it back on her head and yell some more. No one was concerned that whomever bought those cookies would get a box of crumbs.

A group of young people appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the square and continued to expand over the next hour. Guys stood in droopy clothing with their hands in their pockets. Girls played with their hair and would occasionally scream for no apparent reason.

The gardeners were safe behind the fences, but the swirl of scouts, parents, customers, the sea of young people, and the frantic flow of individuals carving through the crowd trying to catch subways swallowed the piano player and the painter.

I could still see the trees and the monument and hear Maestro Mike working the crowd, talking over the music in his smooth voice, pointing out things happening on the square, and offering a little philosophy—a bit of emcee, a touch of Barry White.

A scout parent unwrapped a couple of Gray’s Papaya hot dogs and set them next to her jacket on the bench near my easel. With mustard, just the way I like it. I could smell them. She was paying attention to the snack table and the shrieking kids. If another one of those angry guys went past, it might be enough of a diversion….

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FYI: Robert Beck’s solo exhibition, Here And Now, at Morpeth Contemporary in Hopewell, NJ, is opening September 14. www.morpethcontemporary.com.

See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

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