HOPPER PAINTINGS: “YOU’VE BEEN HOPPERED”

Hopper paintings have turned into Bruuuce.

I love both of them, but I might be done.

Toooo depressing.

Tooo raw.

Too much of so little.

To them I must bid adieu, au revoir, so long, goodbye.

But first a few questions:

Why are you so damn under-dog depressing?

I look at Hopper paintings of nude women and want them dressed, his clothed ladies naked.

That’s Hopper.

He painted buildings ripe for urban renewal.

That’s Hopper with a side of Bruce.

I see The Boss taking a walk through a Hopper.

Now Main Street’s whitewashed windows
And vacant stores
Seems like there ain’t nobody
Wants to come down here no more

Together, Hopper and Bruce capture an urban vision in the dull glow beyond the bright lights.

They make you care for the lonely, the abandoned, a way of life slipping silently to sea.

With their help, you too can feel lonely, abandoned, cast adrift.

It’s a welcome feeling in a warm room and cozy chair.

City Friends Unwritten Rule

People who move to New York City, like Hopper, and stay on as lifers, can be anyone they want.

They reinvent themselves over the decades.

The strong-arm becomes tender handed, the hard boot a toe tickle.

I had city friends I didn’t want to know anything about, unless they told me.

No questions, no family, no job, nothing unless they brought it up.

They remind me of Hopper people.

When you see the same expressions on Hopper’s people on those around you, they become a new person.

Detached, disinterested, putting in painful time.

Catching a glimpse of Hopper flitting across your partner’s face isn’t the end of the world, but you’ll probably end up in a diner sooner than later.

And if you become a regular, you’ll hear about people you never imagined.

Jack the Rabbit and Weak Knee Willie, don’t you know they’re gonna be there
Ah Sloppy Sue and Big Bone Billy, they’ll be coming up for air

That’s when you know you’ve been Hoppered.

Then everyone disappears and new buildings go up.

After that, it’s West Side Story in a new neighborhood.

Bruce-ing Up Hopper Paintings

In case we need reminders of our mortality, there’s the Gospel of Bruce:

Oh, everything dies, baby, that’s a fact
But maybe everything that dies some day comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City

You can be anyone you want, but make sure you’re locked in with the people you care about.

Why are Hopper paintings populated with miserable looking people?

Hopper was a giant man for his time.

At 6’5″ he had to be as miserable as fellow giant Thomas Wolfe.

I’m 6’3″ and feel jammed today.

Am I quitting on Bruce and Hopper?

Not as long as there’s a screen door slamming and disappointed women searching windows for their lost youth.

Not as long as there’s a two story Main Street in the shadow of a growing tower.

Not as long as there’s nighthawks and boardwalks and the amber light of despair reflecting off sad lives poorly lived.

And yet, there’s music.

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?
And can he do to you the things that I do? Oh no
I can take you higher

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
And a freight train running through the middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire