West Side Canvas: Behavioral Modification

Painting and Essay by Robert Beck

As I was about to walk out the door to battle with a project at my studio, my wife suggested another painting I should consider.

I have my studio keys on a carabiner, which is almost always hooked on a belt loop over my right front pocket, where they can be tucked in so they don’t jangle (see: hearing aids, below). I forgot my keys on Wednesday and had to come back to get them. Not far—it was only four blocks when I remembered.

Sometimes a last-minute pants substitution catches me out, or a distraction, but it’s rare. I did it twice in two months, which was enough to attract comment.

That happens with my hearing aids, too. I typically leave them out when I get up in the morning, giving my ears a break. The devices aren’t uncomfortable; I just don’t like the idea of having my ear-holes (there’s probably a clinical name for those) plugged all day if it’s not necessary. Don’t they need to breathe? I am used to the devices by now, and the big concern is to avoid getting in the shower with them. I know it immediately by the sound of the water hitting them, but by then it can be too late. I’ve done that maybe six times in five years, and damaged them once, to the tune of $800. This pair is even more sophisticated, and I’m sure it would be way more expensive to repair.  Doreen prefers I wear my hearing aids, but if I’m alone, I sometimes forego the NYC soundtrack (I’m talking to you, Mount Sinai ambulances) and can forget to put them in before I leave.

The phone is another thing I leave behind. That’s pretty rare, and more common is not knowing where I put it. Part of that is not being wedded to it, and part is being human.

Doreen suggested I do a small painting of those three items to hang on the inside of the apartment door to remind me to check before I leave. I thought it was a fun assignment, although I’m not confident of its efficacy. There are two brightly colored Post-its on my studio door directly in front of my face as I leave, reminding me to turn off the A/C and lock the bathroom, which is in the hall. I forget the bathroom a lot, even though I walk right past both the Post-it and the open door as I leave.

I have a theory about that. I have Noisy Head Syndrome and get distracted.  Once I close and lock my studio door, the operations crew in my brain begins to change the set for the next act. Right when I’m walking past the bathroom, I’m thinking of where I’m going next and what I’m going to do there. That’s an important thing to think about—certainly better than leaving the studio not knowing where I’m going, which also happens—but as I slide deep into my burgeoning plans, the bathroom door gets neglected. I still have to work that one out.

There is also the issue of my wallet, handkerchief, and eye drops, which also qualify for this quest for behavioral self-improvement. I don’t think a second painting would work, unless it’s joined by one depicting the things my wife forgets. A triptych would be nice.

See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Listen to an interview with him on Rag Radio — Here. Let him know at info@westsiderag.com 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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