Rearview Mirror
I’ve come to The Gagosian Gallery in Beverly Hills to see Rearview Mirror, the exhibition of recently “rediscovered” photographs by Paul McCartney taken between Dec ‘63 and Feb ‘64. Some are even “previously unseen.”
I’m solo. Which is better in a gallery (or Nordstrom Rack or the supermarket) because nobody can influence my pace.
I have a doctor’s appointment in Beverly Hills this afternoon to further investigate a finger that seems to be getting umm … misshapen. So it was a convenient and momentous stop along the way.
I find the terms “recently rediscovered” curious and “never seen” hard to believe. Where were these images until they were retrieved? How could Paul have possibly never have shared the ones that were never seen? It doesn’t make sense.
Whatever. I’m grateful. Do we really ever tire?
Paul is a master of revisiting the spotlight: A-Z lyric books, paintings, remixes. But what other band member on earth could withstand the length of time these bursts of publicity have enthralled us?
Over the years I’ve gone back and forth as to whether I’m a Paul-Girl or a John-Girl. Of course I adore Ringo — arguably the most lovable Beatle but he’s never been in contention. I’ve had a belated explosive appreciation for George’s journey. Maybe with my own meditation practice in bloom I’m enamored with his spirituality. Plus he weathered well and I find his later-in-life reverence sexy. Maybe that’s cuz I’m 60(ish) now not 6.
Though Paul McCartney circa Get Back was the most perfect specimen of a man EVER to grace the face of the earth. The body, the fashion, the greasy hair. I’m realizing as I tap that I’ve told you this before. In this very space. So what. It’s worth repeating. In case you missed it the first 2 times.
But as many iconic gems as Paul has gifted us — “Maybe I’m Amazed,” “Hey Jude,” “Let It Be,” “FOR NO ONE!!!!,” — I’ve come to accept with clarity and closure that I’m really a John-Girl when it comes to the tippy top of my favorite tracks. “If I Fell,” “Across the Universe,” “Revolution,” “Help.” Paul might tap into my ears but John goes right to my gut. His songwriting sense is hotter for some reason. Dirtier.
In the book This Is What It Sounds Like author Susan Rogers asks, “Do you like music above the neck or below the neck?” My answer? Both. But below more.
Where was I? Oh — the Gallery. It’s a stroll through a minimalistic space with historical footage of our favorite boys. And it’s free. Why aren’t more people here? I don’t get it.
Thank you to my friend Brian for tipping me off.
Funnily I feel like I’ve seen some of these “never-seen before” photos before. Maybe that’s because over the decades we’ve all been privy to tens of thousands of photos. Every possible angle. Every tilt of head or smile. Glasses. Dangling cigarettes. Mustaches. Or not. How could there be one we haven’t seen?
Ok. I’m done here. Glad I came. Onward.
As I head back to my car I look for a place to sit so I can edit these thoughts and words while they’re fresh. Not-a-one in site. That’s Bev Hills for you. No bench=no possibility of an unhoused person finding a place to rest. I’d have to buy a $12 cuppa coffee in order to plant myself somewhere. It’s ok. I’ll tap and walk. I can do both at once. Even with a handicapped finger.
A Beverly Hills shopgirl stands in the threshold of a cosmetic boutique and chirps, “Hey!” She tries to interest me in a spritz of a fragrance that I’m-sure-I-wouldn’t-like. I continue straight ahead.
“Do you live locally?” — the ol’ shout-out-a-question strategy. It is a person’s reflex to answer. Not moi.
“You look amazing!” one last try.
I hate the world today. I have this thought once a day.
I take a deep breath and let it go. Allow my Beatles-high to linger.
Keep it coming Paul. For as long as you can.
Now let’s see what’s going on with this finger.
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THIS ONE KILLS ME!
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