Cate Rangel paints the female form. Either as a seductress or in pain. Almost stereotyping the classic icons of whore and madonna. Even her name is revealing. Cat and Angel. As if there was both a ferocity and innocence in women. That they are not opposites but different sides. I like her work. I hope she doesn’t become pigeon holed.
When I was growing up I watched wrestling shows constantly. I saw Buddy Nature Boy Rogers fight several championship brawls against the legendary Lou Thesz. From Chicago. From Buffalo I saw the Shiek, the Beast, Killer Kowalski and Yukon Eric. From New York there was Bruno Samartino and Bobo Brazil, Argentina Rocca and my favourite wrestler Sweet Dady Siki. I walked like Sweet Daddy. I held my head up hautily in the air like him. If I could have I would have dyed my hair and skin like him, I would have. He was like a Greek god to me. He was beautiful.
I saw Sweet Daddy several times over the years. In matches at Maple Leaf Gardens. Against Whipper Billy Watson and the most vicious and frightening Bulldog Brower. But I also saw Sweet Dady in the street. He lived in Toronto for many years. Though I doubt that few people would have recognized him. I’m not sure he is alive anymore. But when I saw him, his face wore well the battles and fatique of his profession. There was a nobility about a man who participated a working class version of ballet for men.
Now there is an art exhibition in the USA. For dead wrestlers.
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