"Oh Susanna, don't you cry, babe
Love's a gift that's surely handmade
We've got something to believe in
Don't you think it's time we're leaving"
            -from "L.A. Freeway" by Guy Clark

I live in a small town which is for the most part an artistic desert.  But even so the powers that be close down Main Street once a month for a block party, the highlight of which (for me) is the opening of the only art gallery in town.  It’s subpar by big city standards, sort of a blue collar gallery, but it exists.  And I guess that’s what matters.  It’s sandwiched between a pawn shop and a liquor store and owned by a painter/sculptor named Link.  As his name suggests he looks like a brawler-turned-artist, perhaps for therapeutic reasons. 

So on Friday night once a month there’s an opening at this gallery, with an interesting mix of drunk liquor store rednecks, gambling addicts and aging liberals (the few left in this blood red town) spilling out of the three establishments onto the sidewalk, co-mingling suspiciously.  At least this is what was happening when I rode up on Lucinda, parking in front of the gallery, her loud pipes more than likely causing a frown or two inside the gallery.  But not in the liquor store or pawn shop.  I walked inside.  And although the wine was cheap (boxed), I filled a red solo cup and had a good time.    

My favorite part of this gallery is a small jewelry display tucked into a corner where a guy named “Cherokee” Bill sells vintage southwestern Indian silver and turquoise jewelry as well as stuff that he made himself.  An accomplished silversmith, he said he’s been making jewelry for fifty years, starting at age ten in Pueblo, Colorado.  Evidently he was a directionless troublemaker as a child, so they put him in metalwork class.  The instructor was an old, mean Indian named Wolfe.  And it turned out Wolfe was an accomplished Navajo silversmith, so Bill learned from the best. 

Bill is also a painter and displayed some small paintings on the wall behind his jewelry display.  My favorite was an abstract painting with intersecting black and red lines titled “LA Freeway”.   As he was telling me about it I said, “Hey, that’s one of my favorite Guy Clark songs.”  To which he replied, “You’re the only one who ever noticed that that song was the inspiration for my painting as well as a miserable year I spent in L.A. in the seventies.”     

Guy Clark's "L.A. Freeway":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sa7EkXpy8jE

He had some wonderful jewelry, but I have large fingers.  And I’m particular about what I wear.  So there was only one ring that felt just right, a heavy ring with six small turquoise stones, made by Cherokee Bill years ago.  I put it on and it fit like a glove.  So I traded an old ring straight up and haven't looked back since.