A tribute doesn't suffice...

My Pops is truly my hero. He is a painter, an artist, a writer despite the difficulties littered on that path. He wakes up every day and does what he loves - what drives and moves him (and on many occasions what has saved him).

I was fortunate to grow up surrounded by his work, swirls and medleys of abstraction spurred my curiosity, and teased and egged my imagination...we often created together (I wrote while he painted as we listened to Bach or Stevie Wonder).

We grew up on the Bowery, where my Pops spearheaded artist loft rights, jammed with friends, painted, laughed, created and contributed to a growing and vibrant community. An area peppered with drunks and drugs slowly morphed and changed as artists moved in and slowly transformed the space through their work and creativity.

This gentrification has since brought us Whole Foods & Gap Bowery, and the New Museum (and unfortunately most of the artists have been muscled out of this once fertile creative ground).

My father is paid a tribute on the New Museum site (Douglas Leichter), but a part of me is upset - is that it? A tribute? My father has the goods - his work is breathing, vibrant, dynamic, redolent with life and pulsing with colors and experiences (i would dare say transcendental).

After his 32 years on the Bowery, a New Museum opens not even a block away from where we used to live, and the focus is still on what's new and not what has contributed to the current life on that street and beyond.

But hey, the fat lady remains silent and 2009 is upon us - a new day, year and time to move from tribute to exhibition, show, to sharing...