Painting and essay by Robert Beck
I am very fortunate to have a washer and dryer in my apartment. It’s not a big washer, but it’s also not one of those tiny ones that require you to do one sock at a time.
I don’t need a lot to make me happy. I can look out my window and at times see a person sleeping on a bench, or pawing through the trash can for something to eat, and it adjusts my perspective. I never got to that point, but there were times in my past I was just a couple of dropped plates away from life cascading out of control. I always had enough to keep me going, but not everybody does.
My family was good, too. I was fed, clothed, and protected. I didn’t leave home scarred, angry, driven to even a score or rule the world. I was resourceful, had a decent sense of right and wrong, and could sew a button.
My first apartment had a single washer and dryer in the dark, damp, skuzzy basement, so I did my wash in a local laundromat. In the eight places I’ve lived since, having my own machines has always been a top-of-the-list someday luxury. It took a long time to get them. It’s not just about the money. You need the space, the plumbing, and sometimes permission.
Once committing to a career as a painter, I’ve lived simply but quite satisfactorily. I’ve also found opportunities to participate in the opulent side of society, and I appreciate the fine things found there. That’s nice every now and then, but I draw a line when more becomes the point.
There were times when I used a wash-and-fold service. Time is a big factor for an artist, yet everything other than the work often takes priority, like the business and preparation sides of creating the art, supplementing your income during lean times, and the necessities of life, like cooking, shopping, and laundry. When I run out of time, it’s always doing the painting that gets squeezed out of the mix. Sometimes it made financial sense to have someone wash my clothes so I could get the most important work done.
It might sound corny, but I don’t know anything more fulfilling than sharing a laugh or idea with friends, except for taking a feeling, thought, or encounter and giving it language through my art, which in a sense is the same thing. Creativity is my invisible friend. A lot of artists agree with that thought. Sometimes I wonder, perhaps naively, if all the problems of the country could be solved by sitting the folks in Washington down at a table with a lump of clay and some encouragement. They can bring their dirty laundry if it helps them find the time.
My studio is on the same block as the West 79th Street Laundromat. I see people come and go with laundry bags, trash bags, and duffels full of dirty clothes. They can do it themselves or have it done for them, but either way, somebody’s got to do it. Laundries are an indispensable part of the community, economy, and culture. I’m certain that without them, the city would quickly come to its knees…and smell pretty bad doing it.
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.
Subscribe to West Side Rag’s FREE email newsletter here. And you can Support the Rag here.
