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.
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As you note, many people have washer/dryers in their apartments. And most of those who don’t have washer/dryers have laundry rooms in their buildings. So laundromats are actually a dying breed (like diners).
My building has a laundry room, but the problem is that I can NEVER get in, because someone else is always doing their laundry (i.e., there simply aren’t enough machines – and the landlord won’t spring for any more). and since the room gets locked at 11 pm,, it really is impossible to do my laundry most of the time.
So laundromats remain a necessity for some – even those with laundry rooms in their buildings. And I actually enjoy my time at my local laundromat; I read a book, or do crossword puzzles, and it passes the time.
I time my laundry room usage for 6-7 PM when the housekeepers have gone home and my neighbors who wash their own are at dinner. But I miss the tiny hand laundry that closed recently (the one next to Lily’s Coffee) where I allowed myself the luxury of having my sheets not just folded but crisply ironed, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. During a period when our laundry room was being renovated I used a pick-up-and-deliver service which charged by the pound. Either my t-shirts weigh a pound each or they weighed the clothes wet.
I never liked using dryers because the clothes deteriorated faster. I loved having a yard where I could hang things to dry. I have a big dry basement and hang my clothes there to dry.
When my family moved to the UWS in 1965, there were still “drying lines” hung between buildings in the “donut hole” on my block! We used to hang clothes out to dry and then reel them in with a pulley system. Fond childhood memories!
Only you could write about laundry and make it sensitive and interesting…and bonus with purchase the painting is great. Love the darker outside and vivid bright inside as he snaps the sheet. I used to love to iron but now I buy only stuff that does not wrinkle. You did not ask but thought I’d mention it….
Here’s to whiter whites (laundry)
Your Biggest Fan
I live on West 79th a block from the pictured laundry. Despite having a more than adequate laundry room in my building, I find it convenient to use the wash-and-fold service for sheets and towels.
Cindy and Kenny are beloved business people on our block. They may be the hardest working people I know and their level of professionalism and friendliness is unequalled. They always have my back.
I have appreciated West 79th Street Laundromat for over 45 years. Their business is essential to a well-functioning neighborhood.
I love your paintings, which are so very Upper West Side centric. Please keep sharing them with us.
If we didn’t have dogs in the city….. Instead of dog runs, we could have clothes lines! Everybody could have fresh smelling clothes!