Johnnie Shand Kydd: Crash Book

My first brush with Joe Brainard was through his little book, "I Remember." I'd borrowed a friend's copy and read it through in one sitting. My second brush with Joe Brainard was when an artist friend of mine gave me a copy of "I Remember." And again, I read it through in one sitting. I had next to no knowledge of Joe as a visual artist until I encountered a gallery show of his Nancy drawings. I loved them. They were simultaneously ironic, sweet and sincere...just like "I Remember." Apparently, this was Joe Brainard, at least as depicted by his childhood chum, poet Ron Padgett.

Since my initial brush, I've learned a lot about Joe Brainard: his drawings and collages, paintings, comics. Padgett puts this all in context. But don't call this a biography, it ain't that. It's a memoir, Padgett's recollection of the Joe he knew. This is the kind of document that will feed a future biography, a scholarly inquiry into the life of Joe Brainard. But for now, it seems it's all we have.

Padgett, of course, is able and willing to document the life of his friend. He has unparalleled insight into the life of a private man who had lots of friends, but who disguised himself and hid from them. Padgett portrays a man who tried his best to be honest, but in that trying revealed that any such attempt is folly. We're are all dissembling.

I love Joe Brainard's art. Whether it's visual or textual, Joe is preternaturally honest. He writes without a filter. Sure, there's something of Frank O'Hara in his work. These are the circles in which Joe ran. Padgett embraces and contextualizes all of this. This book gives us one man's version of Joe Brainard, but given his closeness to the subject, it's essential.