Photos from Michael: more LA, 1980s...

Peter and Michael

Photo courtesy of Michael Gentile

Don, Peter and Michael, Palm Avenue

Photo courtesy of Michael Gentile

Painting From Brett Waller

Brett sent a photo of this quiet, peaceful painting he did (well, that's how I think it looks). I really like it.
He says:
"Hello Gretl,
I was looking around on Peter's blog today, thinking about him.
I did this painting recently and wanted to contribute it as a little memorial.
This is a shotglass Pete gave to me when I lived in L.A. We did a lot of drinking together so I filled it up and did a painting of it last September.
Anyway, use it how you like. I still think about your brother.
Take care,
Brett"

"Shot 9," painting By Brett Waller

Photos From Cindy

Cindy Heidel sent the following: "this is a pic of Peter in my childhood bedroom...1976 (my first year of college) I was living at my parents [in Baltimore] and for some reason he threw rocks at the upstairs bedroom window to get my attention! I moved out shortly thereafter! maybe he knew my dad was a cop and at that point I had not been behaving and so maybe Peter was afraid to knock!"

Photo Courtesy of Cindy Heidel

Peter and Gina Lamb, Oakland, 1978

Photo Courtesy of Cindy Heidel

"Mark Homes, Heather Haley, Cindy Heidel, Peter Haskell at Perry's and Cin's party in Silverlake, Los Angeles 1983? may Mark and Peter rest in peace :("

Photo Courtesy of Cindy Heidel

Portrait by Joshua Mason

Rosetta and Josh have been friends of Peter's for a long time. They live on a cool farm full of animals.
Last September, Josh did this amazing, expressive portrait:

Painting by Joshua Mason

Peter and Picasso

From our cousin Michael:

"When I went to Paris in August, I made a pilgrimage to the Picasso Museum. I've recently watched several documentaries about Picasso's life and have become more interested in his art. I watched one such documentary a couple days ago. That night, I had a dream in which I was visiting Picasso's studio.

"In the dream, Picasso was in his 90s, but absolutely electric with creativity. At one point, he fashioned a gay carnival sculpture and dressed it in in long, flowing purple robes. When he had finished it, he handed it to me. The wooden sculpture seemed vibrant with joy. 'It's for Peter," Picasso told me. "He's an artist. He will understand what it means.'

"When I awoke from that dream, I really felt Peter to be alive."

Plane ride with snake

There are a number of good Peter stories: "the time Peter tried to make elderberry wine and it blew up and tie-dyed everything," "time he fell asleep under a sun lamp," "time he couldn't figure out how to turn the lights & sirens on the police car off again," "time he & Mark tried to start the pot plantation in the third-floor bathroom."

An excellent new (to me) Peter anecdote from my mom: 'the time Peter told me, in the middle of a commercial air flight, "Mom, there's an emergency: I've lost my snake!"'

The details from The Momzo:

Dearest Gretl,
It was your first plane ride--you were four months old [1967]--and everyone was behaving nicely during the flight from WNY back to Swarthmore, where we
would live once more. Than came the urgent, whispered (thank heavens!) message. He wanted the attendant to help and I wanted her to live in absolute
ignorance! I'm pleased to report that he found the snake and it exited the plane with us, stowed safely out of sight in Peter's pocket.
Love,
Mom


Peter and baby Bella; photo by Liza Walsh.

Loud Women

Friday is the first anniversary of Peter's death, and I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I learned from him, which I know he'd think was important too. He'd probably say he taught me about good music, which he did; Liza recently told me that Peter took "a kind of big brother pride in the fact that he turned you on to David Bowie" - and X, and the Blasters, and on and on.
But actually the most important thing he taught me about, accidentally maybe, was women.
When I was a kid I knew that it was crucially important for a woman to be "pretty," and was very concerned about how I'd ever end up attaining that state myself. Now I realize it was always a losing battle for me, as pretty is about smallness, fragility, quietness, and blending in - all fine qualities for lace doilies and baby bunnies, but not so good for adults.
My brother didn't hang out with women like that, and because of him, while I was still a teenager I met or saw performances by Exene, Lydia, Heather and Pat Oleszko - who were, to a woman, loud, weird, abrasive, fascinating, kind, and feared no one. They were completely mind-altering, especially in the bland hell that was Buffalo in the Reagan 80s.
I remember being 17 and hearing Lydia, then all of 25 herself, remark that if a man tried to rape her she'd just laugh in his face. Had I been more self-aware at the time, I would have proposed to her on the spot.
They were - and are - so powerful. But they also tended to be amazingly nice to me, maybe just because I was Peter's little sister, but I hoped that they also saw that I was a little bit like them.
So thank you, Peter: I am loud, often irritating, and somewhat strange, and extremely proud of it.
I love you.
Gretl



Pat Oleszko, Roamin' Holiday: A View from A Broad (www.patoleszko.com)

Poem by Uncle Blake

Family reunion 2004; photo by Richard Koepsell.


By Blake (Paul B. Sullivan) 8/09

I am the savage, I suppose.
For I cannot get past the
deed, the passionate, brilliant
man we were deprived of.

It's what? The something or
other stage, I'm told, but
there is something about
vengeance that seems,
well, not just right but
vital, needed, essential even.

The world has far too few
Peter Haskells; far too many
of his dubious killer.

And we have the touted
"Justice System" that
parses fleas on elephants
to find the outcome sought.



With Mom, early 80s, in Buffalo; photo by Heather Haley.

Vallejo, CA, late 70s

From Chris Coon, via Heather:
"Chris used to go to art school/Cal Arts with Peter. He's a drummer from the Bay area who played in SF punk bands Impatient Youth and the Woundz. Small world and funny that we met here on this island a coon's age after we both played in the punk rock scene.
"...He says on the left of Peter is Paul Casteel, singer of the band Touch Me Hooker. Right of Pete is filmmaker Joshua Heller and next to Josh is Jay Lehman, record executive and musician. The guy in the left foreground he didn't identify. Circa 1978 at his parents' house in Vallejo, Ca."


Photo by Chris Coon

South Carolina Diary, July-August 2007

Peter carried a camera around most of the time, and he had a ton of pictures on his computer from this particular couple of weeks in South Carolina. There are a lot of creature and ruined house photos. I get the feeling he was kind of trying to actually describe the character of the place, but that's totally just a guess.
(I did my best to make them post-able size and more or less consistent; sorry they're kind of technically untidy.)


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell


Photo by Peter Haskell

One Year Memorial, Weekend of Septemter 26-27th

One Year Memorial
Weekend of Septemter 26-27th, 2009, Los Angeles
Location and details to be determined.
Please let me know if you might be interested in attending.
Thanks,
Gretl
(gretlr hotmail com)

Satan Scouts (album cover art) photo by John Eder, design by Peter Haskell

Poem from Heidi, AKA Aeriel

Leafy Man, photo by Peter Haskell


Heidi writes: "Peter and I were very close in Los Angeles for many years. I stayed with him a lot when he had his apartment in Echo Park, and in the garage in West Hollywood, underneath the apartment of the crazy monkey trainer. I lost touch with him years ago, when one day, I went to his West Hollywood place, and found he had moved. I could not get a forwarding address or telephone number from anyone."

For Peter
Wednesday, June 03, 2009

Everybody wants to talk to the dead
The unfinished business
The words unsaid

I would give anything to tell you now
The way I feel,
But yet, somehow

It is too late
Now that you're gone
Yet somehow, my life must go on

If you could hear me, I would say
I'M SORRY that I went AWAY
And disappeared without a trace
As i have done, place after place

As I will do, time after time
For I am deaf, dumb, mute
And blind.

Heidi Drake
(a.k.a Aerial Wolfe)

Carole's Poem

Carole was my mom's very first student, in 1963, so she's known our family since then.
My mom, Ann, sent this along; she especially likes it since Peter was born on the Equinox and because she celebrates the Solstice.


In Lambent Light
Carole Knuth, Winter Solstice 2008
—forAnn

In lambent light he comes,
Filling the oracle chamber of
Your heart with his presence.
Child of your body, child of your soul:
Now the rockbed of your memory.

Across the veils between the worlds,
Thinned now at solstice time,
Your son calls Namaste to you,
Blessing your life-affirming journey
Begun amid the great festivals of light.

When the winds of change
Blow hard upon your sojourn,
Follow the dark path
To find the stars that shine within.
There let your soul loudly sing,
The vibration of that soaring sound
Calling from the realm of spirit
The energy of your filial comforter.

Thus may you find deep joy
Each time you know anew
The one who comes to you
In lambent light.

Beautiful Junque

Liza reminded me about this LA Times article about the artist Ed Colver, and the accompanying slideshow of his collage/house, with music by Peter and Thomas and photography by Genaro Molina (as Liza also remarks, you can also see the mannequin legs with the red high heels that are in a previous post).
LA Times audio slideshow, "Beautiful Junque":
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-ca-0817-colver-fl,0,2046638.flash
and the related article, "Edward Colver's art remains punk," August 17, 2008:
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/arts/la-ca-colver17-2008aug17,0,7015938.story

Art by Edward Colver; photo (from the LA Times) by Genaro Molina.

Beth's New Video

This is the music video Beth and Peter were working on when he was killed; she wasn't able to use any of what they had shot originally, as it didn't match the new stuff, but still went with their original plans. I'm really glad she finished it. Their mutual friend Mark worked on it too.
Beth Thompson & The Shway, "Painful Cyst":

Cowboys

From the Facebook.com album "Life in LA's post-punk trenches" by Heather Haley, with Heather's comments. (The full album is here, although you may not be able to access it if you're not a facebook member: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=26312&id=527457037&ref=mf.)


"Some Paul Greenstein project/concept. Peter in the middle, forget the guy's name to the right of him but he was a Brit/expat. Please identify." Photo copyright Frank Gargani.
(NB: I'm pretty sure I saw these guys playing on the N Train this morning. - GR)


"L to R: Peter Haskell, Paul Greenstein, and the previously mentioned Brit/expat. What was his name? I remember he went to truck driving school and drove a big rig across the U.S., just because he wanted to. :-o "
Photo copyright Frank Gargani.

Peter's Storage Space & Dolls

From Zuade: "a portrait I took of Peter in front of our place in Los Feliz" (Photo by Zuade Kaufman)

When Mark and I went to LA in January to clean out Peter's storage space, we had no idea what to expect in there. It was way the hell out in some college-y looking CA town, and we went in a three-car caravan with Beth, Zuade and Paris.
I should have taken a picture of the contents, which roughly broke down to food (dorm fridge, mixer, blender), decrepit furniture bits, clothes (Peter's old leather coat fit Paris perfectly and became his), lots of fishing gear, some music equipment, and several large bags of tools - serious tools that you could build a house with. Of course there were tapes and DVDs and CDs. There were books of every description from library sales and used book stores that he picked up like a magpie. There were tons of rolls of heavy tape.
And there were pieces of art-to-be: sparkly, glittery, shiny, and patterned; fabric, paper, lights, paints, and colored glue; all of which for us was just pretty trash. Mark said that Peter would have been furious that we were fucking with his stuff that way.
It was awful.

From Heather:
Hey Gretl, just found this, thought you might get a kick out of these dolls Peter made long ago, for our first issue of Rattler though we didn't use them. He made a mask of Medusa for the cover instead, can't remember why.

(Art by Peter Haskell)
He sculpted them all by hand out of papier mache, then hand painted them. We had a lot of fun finding the props and stuff. I helped sew some of the clothes, which reminded me of making stuff for my Barbies-but they are purely Peter's creations. As you can see, there is a tourist couple in the front, then left to right, a "gay cruiser," as he put it, a cholo, a bag lady and a new waver.

An essay by Uncle Blake:

Published December 6 in the "Free Lance-Star" (Fredericksburg, VA), with one of Liza's photos:
http://www.fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2008/122008/12062008/429558/index_html

Rattler Magazine Presents

Photo courtesy of Heather Haley
From Heather:
"...this was taken at the Cathay De Grande by Gary Leonard (I think) on the occasion of our Rattler Magazine  benefit  which included Dave Alvin, John Doe, Exene Cervenka, Carlos Guitarlos, De De Detroit, Phast Phreddie, Ivan Roth, Victor Noel, Tequila Mockingbird, Doug Knott and Michael Mollet on the bill. The bands that played were Greg Burk's Dred Scott, Seditionaries, Minutemen, Off, and Malocchio (Jhim Pattison and Byron Baker's neo-surrealist band of madmen)."

More:
Poster for "Bad Day," a film by Modi Frank and Exene Cervenka featuring Peter Haskell; courtesy of Heather Haley:


Zero One Club poster by Peter Haskell; courtesy of Heather Haley:


Zero One Club poster by Peter Haskell; courtesy of Heather Haley:

Leg Man

From Heather:
"Those are my legs he photographed in the Hoboken, NJ apartment we subleted for a short while. When I was in LA at the memorial, Byron gave me the other picture of the mannequin in red heels when he saw the one of my legs. Apparently it's a shot Peter took in LA, recently."

Photo by Peter Haskell

Photo by Peter Haskell
"I came home once while we were in that apartment to find Peter surrounded by a bunch of burly, angry firemen. He had left some eggs on the stove to boil, they started smoking and caught fire and set off the alarm. There had been a rash of arson fires in the neighbourhood so the fire department was not amused with his sleeping beauty routine. People were on edge. Peter snoozed through the alarm, the sirens and was still passed out on the floor when they busted down the door to get in."

Soundtracks

Two soundtracks by Peter Haskell (forwarded by Ralph Eaton):

http://www.box.net/shared/t6ihdyrq2x

http://www.box.net/shared/x2hbtgise1

From Dick Crane

Hi Gretl,
I'm writing from London.... still trying to get my head around the idea I wont be hearing from Pete anymore. Although I hadn't seen him for 16 years (last time was in France 92) we kept in regular contact either by phone or email - the last email I had was on Monday 8th. That says a lot in itself - as there are many people I have meet over the years that I haven't stayed in touch with.
I'm a good friend of Tyler's. It was Tyler who got in touch with me on Friday night to tell me the tragic news. I met your brother through Tyler when they lived in the same block in Silverlake back in 1990.
I've been thinking about it since I heard about his passing and its fair to say meeting Pete changed my life or least gave me the confidence to follow a path I had convinced myself I no place on - namely being an artist. I left London in 89 disillusioned after an attempt at trying my hand at acting/comedy. Not knowing what to do with myself I knocked around LA for a year or two working on music videos. It was at that time I was lucky enough to meet Pete. We had some truly memorable times together and he showed me a side of the US/LA I didn't know existed. He had written a short film and after we got to know each other he suggested I take the lead role in it. Mainly I guess because he liked the cut of my gib. We shot the film in summer 91. On my return to Europe I managed to earn a living as a professional stage actor and script writer for the next 12 years. It was Pete that convinced me to persevere with the artists way. I have no doubt that my life would have taken a different route if it weren't for Pete. Not surprisingly he has, and always will, occupy a particularly special place in my mind. I owe Pete.
He was an original. A real creative talent. His work was of course outside the mainstream but thank God for that. It was always a joy to receive his emails - his photo's, paintings, songs and tales from wherever - always made me laugh (and I don't laugh easily) and in all his work there where shrewd observations about our species that got at basic truths. In our time together he was a good friend and great company. I remember that last time we were together in Paris. We were sitting on the steps of some house down a side street eating our baguettes and cheese when this little French kid walking by with his mother turned to her and said "Maman, Maman - regardez les clochards'" - we loved that and chomped them sandwiches even harder. All these years later I still carry the sayings Pete taught me around with me and often catch myself trotting them out to entertain myself or others.
I spent an hour on the phone with Ralph this afternoon, who I haven't spoken to for several years, reminiscing of our times with Pete. I hope its some consolation to you that his passing is bringing people from far and wide together again. I'm really happy to hear that Tyler is taking steps to hold a memorial service in LA - good ole Tyler, he's a star. I only wish I had the money to get myself there 'cos as I mentioned earlier I owe Pete.
From what I understand his passing sounds like it was a real tragedy. My deepest condolences to you and your family. But know your brother was one of the most memorable men I have ever met.
Sincerely
Dick Crane

From Doriandra

Doriandra sent the following.
"a self portrait that Peter sent me right before his death:"

Photo by Peter Haskell.

A LONG WAY HOME, Doriandra
"The first time I met Peter, I was in a drug induced fragile haze brought on by several days of recording discordant music in a studio in the middle of my cramped hovel house which was filled to capacity with beautiful broken machinery, plastic baby parts, horror imagery, way too many pets and an ill begotten collection of broken and mutated music instruments. Peter walked right in, gave me a hug that startled me from the morbid thoughts so akin to my everyday isolation and proceeded with great reverence, to film various pieces of my art, my mess - "it's all beauty" he said while calmly straddling the bathtub filled with broken glass.
"So time passed, 10 years or so..we grew up, fragments of time were created and discarded as it became apparent that the accidental grace and beauty of youth was soon to slip away. and it did. In 2008, Peter and I found ourselves individually isolated in different states, both rather heart sick from various decisions we had made. We began to vigorously communicate, attempting to make sense of the sad events that had occurred in the life of our dearest mutual friend, Thomas who was far away in Germany. As it soon became apparent that we could only save ourselves, we began to plot the progress back to where we knew there was both the maddening inspiration that only Los Angeles, the city of our collective artistic origins, could harbor. Peter embarked across the country late last summer in the trusty Saab, shortly before I packed up my fragments and left my safe little house in the middle of nowhere, sadly feeding the ravens one last time.
"I am grateful for the few shared sunset views from the last place he lived - laughing in the dirty hallway when the trains roared by, having to shout to be heard. Writing his name in used matchsticks on the floor and greeting the LA River homeless men with kindness, waving from the grimy window. Going downtown for fabric..I wish I could see the last pictures he took before he died, decaying mannequins on Broadway, dignified southern black men selling fancy suits, little immigrant women clutching children to their breasts, me threatening the miserable meter maid.
"All lost, like a life taken erroneously. You just have to wonder sometimes about the beauty in the world. And mostly about those people like Peter that can harness it, spin it with their own bruised fingers and hand it back to you as a fragile mirror to view your own greatness in. I'm hoping that the brightness you brought to those around you will be a light to guide you to wherever your new home may be."

Luna Paris Video

Zuade forwarded the URL for this video Peter did for a friend of hers; I hadn't seen it before.
Luna Paris, "One More Night":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWvLOb47Ro4

From Heather's Blog

Heather has a bunch of good stuff on her blog. I like this story she told at the LA memorial (please note the food motif):
"I related how Peter and I met, in San Francisco, how I used to see him at punk rock shows. I think it was at a Dead Kennedy gig that he came over and started talking to me. He wanted us to play music together, kept bugging me for my phone number. I resisted. I was very alienated, depressed, wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially men. One night after a party we shared a cab back to my place and against what I thought was my better judgement, I invited him in and that was when it all started between us. A few weeks later, around Christmas, I was ruminating in my tiny, rented room when he called, again, and wanted to come over. I hate Christmas, was trying to pretend it wasn’t Christmas but I said, “Okay, come over.” I was miserable. He was working in a restaurant and when he walked in, sat down and dumped out a backpack of goodies that he’d swiped-chocolate cake (oh yeah, he zeroed in on my weaknesses) oranges, nuts, turkey breasts and then he pulled out a tiny, potted Christmas tree replete with decorations!"
- Heather Haley, http://heatherhaley.com/onelife/

Deafness

There have two times in my life when I've had horrible nightmares that I was unable to speak to someone I loved - both in instances when I was estranged from someone with a life-threatening illness. And two people very close to Peter have recently told me that they have had awful dreams where they couldn't hear what he was trying to tell them or he couldn't hear them.
Peter and I hadn't figured out how to talk comprehensibly to each other; we had just been starting to try. I wish there had been more time.

(To the people I'm referring to above: if I am being a jerk and this is too personal to be mentioning in semi-public, tell me and I'll delete it.)

Flipper, James Dean

Bruce Loose, Peter and Heather's roommate and singer for Flipper, with dead whale on San Francisco Bay Beach.

Photo by Peter Haskell.

Peter.

Photo by Heather Haley.

Video of LA Memorial Saturday, September 20

Organized by Tyler and Bob and hosted by Amanda. A lot of lovely stories, and some really funny ones:

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=EC67E205FC943B6E

Movie and Movie Soundtracks

Gang of 25 by Michael Gentile, B&W. Baltimore, MD, 1978.
With Peter Haskell, John Ellsberry and Alan Payne.

More of Liza's Photos...

http://flickr.com/photos/30557934@N02/sets/72157607615891379/

Fripp Island, South Carolina, Summer 2002

With Mark and Mark's daughter Annelise:

Photo by Eliza Walsh


Photo by Eliza Walsh