By Robert Beck

I don’t require much when it comes to a haircut. Oh sure, there was a day when I sported an impressive mop of hair, but that was way long ago. Now, I have a thin gray fur around the sides and not much of anything on top. I used it up when I was young. Nobody told me.

Cutting my hair comes with a challenge. If the edge where the fringe meets the scalp — I think of it as the coastline — isn’t handled just right, in a week I start to look like a vegetable brush. There’s not much barbering to do on me but they don’t give a discount for that so I expect the same amount of attention as the guys with the swoops and sculpts. Not that I lose sleep over it. I don’t have to look at me.

I wanted to paint a barber shop for the West Side Canvas series and was waiting until I settled into a barber who tamed my coastline and recognized me as a regular before asking. What was nice about the last shop I went to is it looks like a typical barber shop, the way Tip Top looks like a shoe store, and Murray’s looks like a place where you get great smoked fish. A lot of barber shops now are black and white, glass and chrome. They don’t look like they have roots (I should talk). That place felt established, so I asked.

When pitching the idea, I identified myself as a writer for the Rag and told them how I’d like to paint there and write an essay that would be read by a lot of people, many of whom get haircuts. It would cost them nothing. A win for everybody. Some people say okay and some are clearly uncomfortable with that, which was how it was with that owner. I asked a couple of times, but they kept putting me off. It’s their place, and not everybody wants what I bring, so I didn’t push. No hard feelings. But no more haircuts, either.

I’ve been keeping my eyes open for another place that says neighborhood barber to me, and I liked Barber Shop On 80th, which is right off Broadway, a block from my studio. It’s located downstairs and it’s intimate — just big enough for three chairs. When I asked the owner, Mark, he said, “Sure, whatever you want.” That took me back a little. I usually expect a question or two.

I looked around the shop and the only places I could set up were in front of the cash register or the bathroom. That wouldn’t work. I set up on the sidewalk instead.

It was a nice day to be painting on the street. I had a few conversations while I worked, but most people passed with urban indifference. Haircut customers came and went. When the chairs were empty, one of the barbers put the drape around his shoulders and trimmed his own hair, standing in front of the mirror. I smiled as a voice in my head whispered, “Do it while you can.”

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See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

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