I feel compelled to pay homage to artist Richard Hambleton. It seemed odd that the man I met in Vancouver repeatedly reappeared in shadows during my brief Lower Manhattan sojourn. Spooked, I kept looking over my shoulder wondering why. How. How did we wind up in New York? At the same time. I remembered seeing his jarring Dick Trace-It faux crime scenes back home. Home seemed so very far away. As I told mutual friend Lincoln Clarkes, we weren’t exactly close. Richard was rather hostile in fact but I tried not to take it personally. I knew he was weird and I was too preoccupied to worry about it. I was in survival mode, working at the Baby Doll Lounge, struggling to play music despite New York’s high temperatures, crime rate and cost of living. I admired his work though. It was powerful, fascinating, seminal. Certainly he deserved more recognition but sadly that’s the way with so much art and so many artists. R.I.P. Richard Hambleton. Here’s the New York Times obituary with some exceptional video links.