bystander*betty 2003-2005+

The Bystander was an independent monthly arts and entertainment magazine published out of Rehoboth Beach Delaware from 2003-2006.

I found the first issue in 2003 at the Barn Door (RIP) in Wilmington and recalled that Phil Healy (alas RIP) said friends of his had moved to the beach just as we moved away, and had started the mag. I was intrigued and excited about what I saw and emailed them with a few suggestions, only to be met with my nemesis response, “…sounds like a great idea, why don’t YOU do it?” Thus began my creative relationship with the Bystander.

I began with a monthly column called Unchained, covering independent retail, restaurants and generally cool places. Later, as my life was spent on more roadtrips with my musician husband, I penned the column “Rock and Roll Wife”.

I was most thrilled to have been able to design 3 full color covers for the magazine but now that I think of it I did a whole host of things-

I  wrote  the occasional music review, interviewed designers, artists and bands, provided photographs for my articles, and created ads for both my Mod*Betty space in Newark and my husband’s music.

Since the Bystander no longer exists, I wanted to at least have a place where I could collect my contributions.

Valentines

Cover

Cliff

Joan Zylkin – Local Happening Painter

 

“My painting is really about sharing how I see, and capturing life.
I am observing and chronicling my life
and the lives of people around me, as they live and enjoy it”

I had hoped to crown Joan Zylkin “The Painter of Life” but then I would be in trouble with some artist in Colorado who has trademarked the title. Instead I will attempt to be more accurate and declare that she is a local treasure, with her ability to quickly capture in vibrant color the movement and energy of what goes on around her, while it is happening. Painting on site and in real time, the end result of her work is a series of oil paintings depicting an event: From a full-scale costumed musical production to a casual candlelit gathering, and anything interesting in between.

Local treasure? Think about it: There are thousands of photographers around the country posing people in the exact same poses over and over again, so that your wedding/family/band photos from Wilmington, Delaware will probably end up looking eerily similar to someone else’s wedding/family/band photos from lets say, Lincoln, Nebraska. How many areas do you know of where you can have an accomplished artist attend your event and actively paint what is going on? Suddenly you have the ability to rise above the ordinary and become a patron of the arts, and you’ll have the paintings to prove it. A local treasure, indeed.

As her accent reveals, Joan was born in England, yet spent many a year traveling the globe, living in Paris, Madrid and Australia. Touching down in Delaware with her husband and two sons, she now lives nestled in the tangled woods and winding roads of Arden, the haven for New Castle County’s artistic and creative types.

Her formal art training began in college, and continued when her children were old enough to go to school. She studied locally at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, where she was accepted mid-semester on the strength of her portfolio. The Academy gave her the technical skills to recreate figure and likeness, AND she found that she really responded to color and form, preferring direct painting to sketching.

“I actually find working from a posed model very boring because the model tends to freeze, so you don’t capture the energy”

After many years of working from studio set ups and landscapes, she felt that there was more she wanted to do with her painting. She wanted to pursue her interest in capturing energetic movement with lively colors, so she enrolled in a “refresher” painting course. There she learned the secrets of using “clean, beautiful color” and strong pigments. For the final assignment she was told to go out in the street and paint what she saw. Setting up in front of a coffee shop, she realized she was much more drawn to the “funky, interesting” people in the shop and made an arrangement with the owner to come back and paint there over the weekend.

She loved it! The combination of the colorful characters, the energy of the environment and the ability to connect with the people-who also bought her paintings on the spot- was just what she has been looking for. She then tried her luck at the beach, with the same inspiring results. This was the beginning of her “paint what you see now, while its happening” approach to painting. Not from photos, or poses, but life as it happens.

“No matter what walk of life, whether they are heavy metal rockers or professional people, whatever race or language they are speaking, there is a childlike appreciation in responding to my art-
its got a simplicity about it that makes it look easy”

You can see her at work locally, anywhere she can capture folks in motion. She loves to paint to music, so you may find her at Arden’s Candlelight Theatre, or at the Bellefonte Café where a singer or guitarist may have hired her to capture their show live and in paint. You might have noticed her painting at the recent Tsunami Benefit at Arden Guild Hall, with book lights clipped to her easel, or the Wilmington Flower Market or Jazz Fest, where she has captured the likenesses of many on the local music scene: IKE, Omnisoul, Rob Montejo, Apex Watson, and Long Way Home, among others.

“Joan Zylkin- The Wedding Painter”

She will even paint your wedding or other special event at rates comparable to a standard event photographer. Painting for an agreed upon amount of time, you will receive as many paintings as she can create during those hours (She ballparks that in a 3 hour time frame she can do anywhere from 9-13 fast pieces or 3 or 4 more detailed ones). At the end of the event you can send them home with your guests as very special souvenirs, or if you want her to go further with them she can take them back to her studio, add some details, and put a final layer of varnish on them. More unique than posed photographs, her paintings are instant heirlooms, forever preserving the lively feeling and motion of your special moment.

 

Cover

Rock & Roll Wifestyle goes all Society column on ya

Well hello my little Junebugs!

And haven’t we had a busy spring now darlings? Well, from settling into our darling little pied-a-terre here in the quaintest little town, to taking a quick jaunt to The Big Apple, we have just been busy as bees. Do have a listen while I regale you with tales from a most faboo month, won’t you? Swell.

Yours truly had a marvelous weekend adventure in upstate New York, reuniting with two of my dear school chums, Ms Sullivan & Ms Connerney, discussing life and love and the like. The stars were kind enough to align for a design gal like myself, and I was fortunate enough to take a personal tour of Russel Wright’s Dragon Rock homestead, which was just fascinating in its mid-century modern mindset. An opportunity like this is just too too much, but you only go ‘round once, I say, so live a little.

Alas, while I sat in front of a roaring fire with the ladies, drinking fine wine and eating imported chocolates and cheeses (courtesy of Mme Connerney’s beau du jour from Gay Paree, who keeps her larder stocked in the most delish assortment of nibbles) it just tore at my heart to think that that my poor dear CH was relegated to a weekend of debauchery in Dewey Beach. Somehow the poor dear made it through the entire pop fest weekend without me, the brave soul.

I am still not sure how he could survive without my innocuous yet constant inquiries as to what time we would be leaving as it was getting very late, and did he really did need that third or fourth shot of Jaeger/next beer/slice from Grotto? Who would be there to warn him of just how awful he would feel in the morning if he kept acting like that? How was he to know when it was too late or that he was spending too much money or being too loud and boisterous?

Thank heavens he was under the watchful eye of those steady fellas The Jellybricks, who even invited him to sleep in their hotel room so he would not be lonely without his lil’ trouble and strife. It was not their fault he did not realize that five in the morning is just too late to get pizza from Grottos, even if you are willing to pick it up. Poor dear.

Not a moment after my return from the Hudson Valley we whisked ourselves down Route 76, towards The City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia. We had advance reservations for a production at the Theatre of the Living Arts, seeing New York City’s chanteuse led loungepop trio Ivy, as well as some lesser knowns, Stars and Astaire.

Despite my attempts to suggest the best way to maneuver our vehicle in city traffic, we unfortunately missed all but one song from Astaire, and had to console ourselves with a cocktail or three. On the brighter side of the coin, we bumped into some friends from Dear Old Delaware as we got our libations and our mood lightened considerably with fond reminiscences of squandered hours at the workplace and our mutual distain for those in upper management. Soon enough the musicians struck up the band, and we had a marvelous evening of suave and sophisticated entertainment, as is our custom.

As I know you know all too well, daytime lives can be mundane at best, so I will not bore you with the dreariness of job hunting or the monotony of dog walking. Instead, come closer and I will share with you the juicy morsel that we discovered the most endearing little band performing at the Tin Angel Club,just scant days after our evening with Ivy.

CH is such a colossal sweetie for indulging me (for the second time in a week, yet) in my penchant for 60’s-influenced-twee-pop-sung-by-a-non-native-English-speaking-girl, preferably reminiscent of Astrud Gilberto during her all too short stint with the Stan Getz Trio. A gal knows she is lucky when her man is willing to sit through a production so noticeably lacking in testosterone. I am one grateful gal in that respect, as the Mosquitos from New York City are my latest guilty pleasure.

Who could resist their infectious melodies and sunshiney singalong bits? I could not even blame CH for looking twice or three times at the adorable singer Juju, who I also found to be very easy on the eyes. With her short cropped hair and snifter of cognac, twirling around in her frilly dress, she was the picture of pop sexy. Oh my- did I just use the S word to describe one of my own feminine gender? Blame it on the bossa nova!

Now, you sweet peas know that I only share in the highlights of hubby’s ever escalating career in the name of journalismo, no? Bragging? Never! Showy-Offy? Pish! Only with that notion swept clear from your mind will I report to you in even and measured tones that our local boy, Delaware’s kindest and finest, my sweet baboo, has been revealed to a wider audience with a glowing report of his musical activities appearing hot off the presses of non other than THE Billboard Magazine.

Yes! The Billboard, the one with the number one with a bullet charts and all. That Billboard! If you look closely at this ish of the Bystander you may come across a mention of it, but we’ll just let you find it for yourselves. No need to appear boastful now- though between you, me and the lamp post, mummy and daddy are awfully impressed with this one!

It would only make sense to wrap up this account of our magical musical month with a mention of the evening we spent in that marvelous metropolis, our home away from home, Gotham City itself. During this visit we were delighted to be the guests of honor at a special show at a darling little speakeasy known as The Cutting Room. Rumour has it that the owner is some sort of television personality, but as we are more apt to listen to the radio these days, his star quality was muted to us. I did my best to be a gracious hostess as I greeted and chatted with a steady stream of well wishers -reliable and wonderful L & P, Chris from DC, even a surprise appearance from fellow music makers and folks we only know via email Even friends from CH’s youthful days playing guitar at the beach came out to support.

I am sure the promoters and industry types were nothing less than impressed at such a big, magnificent sound coming out my darling bunch of boys. Per usual it was over before it began, in my humble opinion. Photos were snapped for publication, hands were shaken, and we left the venue with an open invitation for the band to perform there whenever they are in town, which I hope to be often. After a tasty meal compliments of CH’s backers at one of the city’s snappy new eateries, it was too soon that we had to turn the towncar south and head back home.

And there you have it my peach blossoms, just another day in the life of an average Jane trying to help her John as he ascends the ladder of success. See you on the next rung! Toodles!

Cliff

We’re movin’ on up! to PA that is

So where was I? I mean before we decided somewhat on the spur of the moment to sell our house and move to PA? Yes folks, we just added yet another ingredient to the wacky salad known as our lives. Luckily we are smitten with our new town and little Spanish hacienda and have promised that we will not do this uprooting and moving thing again for a long time. That is unless Mr. Big from Bigtime Records calls and we have to move to L.A. of course.

The rock life was slow during the wintery months, as the weather makes any tour plans tenuous at best. We did have one incident where a gig was cancelled because of the snow-ALL ONE INCH OF IT! Actually, the gig was never officially cancelled: we along with the other performers showed up to find the venue shuttered and locked. Lame! All this did was reinforce what we already knew about where we lived and reminded us why we were moving.

Now the trees are a bloomin’ and the gig book is filling up. For the past couple of years Springtime has meant Delaware Music and Dewey Pop Fests, and this year will be no exception. I harken back to the craziness of last year’s fests, when CH’s CD was literally hot off the presses and this column was born of the fact that that entire creative process had taken over my life. Was that just last year? My how time flies.

Since we last chatted CH has signed up with some folks in NYC who are working to get some of his songs placed in TV and movies. I feel like there is some neat stuff going on in soundtracks lately with things like Garden State and Eternal Sunshine, so I can’t help but think that this is a good thing. I know that my faves Ivy and Fountains of Wayne are making some good cash with commercial deals and I say hooray for that too. You know I will let everyone know if CH’s music is heard by the masses (well, besides that scene in the Brooke Shields movie) so join me and cross your fingers for him, willya? Thanks.

So the Spring cycle starts again, and I am heading down to Ewey-oops-I mean Dewey Beach for the Delaware Music Fest. As usual there is some convoluted arrangement as CH has to be at the Rudder early to help Love Seed with some gear, and he also has to be in the studio Sunday morning. It is determined that I will drive down in my own car with the dog in the back seat as I have no desire to see LSMJ and I know already that I am in for a long evening.

Driving down from PA I have a nice chunk of time where I can catch up on my NPR listening. Somewhere in Kent County I cross the invisible “no public radio past this point” line so I turn on my CD player. Frou Frou comes coolly out of the speaker reminding me to once again see that there is beauty in the breakdown. Remember when I mentioned movie soundtracks? I actually bought this CD because of the Garden State soundtrack. I have been listening to it a lot recently since I keep on forgetting to put other CDs in the car, even though I unpacked our collections last week.

(Yes, that’s right, collections. Married almost 3 years and I still can’t bring myself to merge our CD collections. I am sure CH feels the same way. Like a scene out of High Fidelity II, this is what happens when you bring 2 music fans together. Yours, Mine and well, more of yours & mine.We have an odd shallow storage space in our new kitchen that my sister calls a pantry, but I just can’t see it. It would take a Warholian amount of soup cans to fill it and I think the space is perfect for storing CDs. Handily it has sliding doors that naturally divide the space into “my side” and “his side.” I think this works out well: CH will never have to worry about someone thinking that he purchased Bananarama’s Greatest Hits and I won’t have to worry about whether I should put all of the Cheap Trick CDs in chronological order or alphabetical by title.)

So Frou Frou it is, until I tune into 98.1 who are kind enough to play “Piccadilly” by Squeeze for my drive down the homestretch of Route 1. Doing a pretty good job of singing along with the words I barely remember, I am surprised by the appearance of CH’s name on the billboards advertising the Fest. Maybe we should have moved away sooner?

Damning myself for forgetting my camera I pull into the parking lot, put on my leather jacket (which I feel silly wearing on a sunny day at the beach, but its windy and cold) and anticipate the hangover I will have tomorrow morning. Bracing myself against the wind I head over to the deck.

Heading into the Rudder I run into our dear pal Lisa, who is always popping up at gigs unannounced. Then it’s rush-there’s CH helping Pete break down gear, Patti, Tom, Alex, Dan, Ken, Julie, Greg, its like the Mousketeer role call. A peck on the cheek and I am quickly hooked up with a beer, then CH and Pete have their customary Jaeger shot. Too early in the evening to be crabby about it, I turn and am on the lookout for our own Heather Plank as she is also doing the rock wife thing tonight. I’m sure we’ll be commiserating later.

What’s that? Tonight is Bystander night at Dogfish with the Parallax Project? CH played with them at SXSW last month (the day before we closed on our house of course) so we’ll be heading over there to see them. After CH plays. And we see The Cocks. And part of Marc Moss’ set, and Petland, and I better find a schedule and write this all down so I don’t forget. I am exhausted already just trying to keep it all straight, but I am Rock Wife reporting for duty, sir. I’ll sleep tomorrow.

moving and musing on CD collections and whatnot

So we are settling down nicely in our little hacienda in our tiny town. As the WKRP theme song goes “I got kinda tired of packing and unpacking, town to town…(up and down the dial” but that does not really fit in with my sentiment.) So yes we spent the last month packing up all of our worldly belongings and fit them somehow into the new space, with help from the garage and the basement. Boy howdee do we own a lot of crap, stuff we would pick up on spec, thinking, well maybe this would work in the NEXT place we live…? In any case we are there and whatever does not fit is being kicked to the curb in a month or two.

Welcome to a new chapter in my rock wife life. Hubby had a gig tonight way down in Newark, here I sit in our little hacienda, music playing softly in the background and dog curled up in his little bed. My excitement of the night? Keeping in the small town nature of our small town, I attended a Planning Commission meeting, and let me tell you, it was standing room only. Better than cable I tell ya, the drama and the characters are not to be believed.

So I return from the meeting with every intention of making our new home presentable as CH’s parents are coming to see it for the first time. We have been here for a few weeks already but much of our stuff still lives in boxes.

Our quirky custom 50’s house has a lot of unusual features, like the dumb waiter that goes nowhere and a safe in the wall of the basement. One of the more benign of these wacky features is a closet in the kitchen- a closet only about six inches deep, with sliding doors. There is plenty of cabinet space in the kitchen and it is pretty roomy to begin with, so I don’t really see the need for it, I would have to buy a helluvalot of canned goods to make this worth it.

Instead of a Warholian collection of soup cans, I decide that this is the perfect place to store our collections of CDs. And that is collections plural, because even after almost 3 years of marriage and as many share living places, I still cannot bring myself to mingle our CD collections. MINE are over HERE and HIS are over THERE. Even in this closet, the sliding doors provide a natural fault line between the sides of the closet, making the his and hersness of the merchandising not only practical but sensible.

First there is the collection- then there is the condition, then there is the aggrivation of the empty case syndrome, perfectly illustrated when we plugged in the multi=CD changer. We bought it for like $25 well over a year ago, intending to use it but never getting around to it. Well we thought we would hook it up a few days ago, and what should be inside the cartridge? Oh, just 6 CDs that I had been searching high and low for for the past year easily. CH had used them to test out the player when we first got it and never took the CDs out. I have gone a year wondering where the new Evan Dando was, curious as to where 2 of my Chameleons albums were, wondering where TMBGs flood was, and I had given up the Brett Rosenberg Problem CD as missing in action.

Condition and collection. Scratched by sliding over the floor of random rock vans, some of my CDs have met this fate and I could not be more frustrated by it. Yes I may be a neatnik, but I like it when my CDs don’t skip thank you.

It is then, unloading the boxes, shelving books, mostly mine and puzzling over crates of black spaghetti cables, definitely CH’s, that I come to an odd fact- That I have an issue with integrating our CD collections. We’ve been married almost 3 years now, this is our 3^rd home and still I am segregating my CDs over HERE and his CDs over THERE! Like they have cooties or something.

When CH and I first met, people commented on how similar our music taste was, so when we first got together I figured we’d have tons of duplicate CDs. Nope. Well, a few, like a random Ben Folds Five, Beatles or Jason Falkner. But the vast majority of CDs are completely different. CH will be relieved when I share with the world that he is not the owner of the following greatest hits CDs, Bananarama, Chaka Khan, Salt-n-Pepa, Les Paul & Mary Ford, and I will not lay claim to any of the Kiss CDs that are lining his side.