Pomona 1973- Standing: Hap Tivey, James Turrell, Gus Blaisdell, Lewis Baltz
Sitting – Maury Baden, Guy Williams
Gus Blaisdell and Ira Jaffe 1985Gus Blaisdell and Poet Geoffrey Young Portrait by William Stafford 1971
Gus Blaisdell and Ray Waddington 1976
Gus Blaisdell Portrait by Max KozloffGus Blaisdell and Poet Robert Creeley 2000 Portrait by Nicole Blaisdell IveyGus Blaisdell and writer Evan S. Connell at Trinity Site Video Still from His Heaviness by Nicole Blaisdell Ivey
Gus Blaisdell at Living Batch Bookstore 1999 Video Still from His Heaviness by Nicole Blaisdell Ivey
Gus Blaisdell and Nicholas Brownrigg photos by Nicole Blaisdell Ivey
Stanford Friends meet again.40 years later
Gus Blaisdell by Matt CohenGus Blaisdell by Douglas Kent Hall ALBUQUERQUE 2000
Gus Blaisdell and painter Guy Williams 1972
Gus Blaisdell visiting Jack Stauffacher’s Greenwood Press San Francisco
Stanley Cavell and Gus Blaisdell Harvard 1970’s
Gus and Cat Aspen Portrait by Arnold Gassan
Gus Blaisdell Polaroid portrait by Johnathan Williams
Gus Blaisdell Portrait by Adrian Salinger
September 21, 1935 - September 17th 2003 HE WAS A DEEP CAT
AFTER THE SYMBOLS Chuang Tzu beats a bowl And mourns. His eyes are bright; His wife, dead. He sleeps, a skull His pilllow dreaming life. Morning finds Incarnate knowledge: The motions of fish Against swift currents.
Gus Blaisdell
February 20, 2005
From Stanley Cavell
GUS
On the evening of February 24, 2005
I will not be where Cathleen and I want to be, in Albuquerque with others of Gus’s friends gathered with his family, but instead I am to give a talk that evening some five thousand miles from there, at the Cinematheque in Lisbon, as I agreed some months ago to do, introducing a series of a dozen films they have scheduled there beginning with It Happened One Night and The Lady Eve and The Philadelphia Story. These are three of countless films Gus and I spent time on together and I thank him for that in a book I wrote about such films. I thank him in other books for other conversations. But I profited from those conversations beyond any thanks I know how to give. And I know that others trying to get on with writing books or making other things have the same causes for gratitude I have and feel the same way I do. What I do not know is of anyone else whose range of friends, and whose care of his friends, was as great as Gus’s. He knew people, and kept up with people, from all the lives he had led, or was living, seeming to have room in his memory for writings and images made by everyone, famous and not, that he had ever come across who showed a talent for doing something or saying something or playing something distinctive, and Gus had the rare knack and the tact of forming words of encouragement for them. There kept being new names, some strange to me, some known to many, entering his conversation, or into one of his delirious monologues from a theater of his own. He finished some memorable projects, and I believe others also must have tried and cried to get him to finish more, small and large. It is frightening to think how many unfinished projects there must be heavy evidence of, ones he was right never to give up on. This means that numbers of people who would have cared to know may not know what we know. But we know it. And I join in celebrating it.