Screening Taylor Mead's work on Ludlow Street for good vibes

     A filmmaker, an actor, a Warhol collaborator, and a prolific New Yorker, Taylor Mead passed away last Wednesday/early Thursday at the age of 88. The night before, May 8th, a screening of some of his silent vacation diary films were run on 16MM for a sizable and enthusiastic crowd on 139 Ludlow Street, a street where up until very recently Mead had called home. Organized by Soho House, a private members' club for those in film, media and creative industries, and featuring excellent prints provided by the Filmmakers Cooperative and musical selections curated and DJ'd on a vintage record player by Bradley Eros, the evening was somber (news of Mead's recent stroke and poor health were discussed beforehand), but not without a sense of passionate respect and well wishes for the iconic man of the hour; candles were even lit to send good vibes Mead's way. As MM Serra expressed her appreciation for the work of Mead in the evening's introduction, the screening space became an ideal environment for what would most likely be the last public exhibition of Mead's work while the artist was still alive (although not present: he passed away, in the company of family in Colorado, hours later).

     The first film screened, Home Movies - Rome/Florence/Venice/Greece, introduced this neophyte to the filmmaker's fast-paced, frantic style. Nude statues and churches (and their stained glass windows) all Italianized the familiar visual iconography of the piece. Mead's second travelogue on display, Home Movies/N. Y. C. to San Diego, starts in New York – NYU logos and a Broadway marquee of Finian's Rainbow attract the eye – and then hops on a plane for a few through-the-window aerial shots before landing in California to get to work on an Andy Warhol surfer flick (could it be San Diego Surf?). The final film of the evening, My Home Movies, opens in Mexico with such memorable sights as a drunk man laying on a sidewalk and being beaten down by the sun, before we find ourselves in New York in the presence of the infamous and dearly demolished Charles Theater. The marquee reads: TAYLOR MEAD IN RON RICE'S THE FLOWER THIEF. Still unseen by me, The Flower Thief was described by Jonas Mekas, writing for The Village Voice fifty-one years ago, as "one of the most original creations in the recent cinema (or in any art, for that matter)....it is the simplest, the humblest movie there can be." Oh, to have lived in the era of the Charles Theater and Bleecker Street Cinema.

     While the work of Mr. Mead is not easily available for everyone, The Filmmakers Coop's possession of original prints and rare 8MM material means that his films are in good hands. Before the screening, I looked at the film cells as they rested thread up in the evening's portable 16MM projector. Perhaps, I thought, this is the way Mead's films were meant to be seen, in a communal setting filled with eagerness and attentiveness...and love.