“Attend Swami Bhaktivedanta Lecture on Бхагавад-гита”

On a Bristol board in my upstairs art studio, I create posters featuring Swamiji: “Attend Swami Bhaktivedanta’s Lectures on Бхагавад-гита – 26 Second Avenue, M.T.W., 7 P.M.”  The drawings are crude.  As disciples we tried to bring people to his lectures, that’s why I use the imperative case: “Attend”.  I don’t say “Please Attend”.  Don’t be left out.

I didn’t make posters like this in 1966.  I can’t make posters like this now because Swami Bhaktivedanta is not lecturing.   But I did make them, and I don’t think they are outdated.  “Attend.”  We only have to change the address to wherever we are speaking Swamiji’s words.   (Nowadays we don’t even have to change the address, of course – 26 Second Avenue is still there.)  I’ve often said that my first impression of Swamiji was that he was like Buddha.  In my drawings, the classical lines of his form are similar to any Buddha, any holy man, any ecstatic chanter.  Yet he is so perfectly himself.  That’s how spiritual life is, isn’t it?

These posters wouldn’t make sense to someone if they were stuck in delicatessen windows on the Lower East Side.  They are insider posters.  I can imagine hanging such posters up in my apartment on First Street where the devotees used to hang out.  “Sixteen rounds, four rules, no sense gratification.”  The posters say Ravi Shankar and Shakespeare are now in a class with rock-n-roll.  Don’t do anything unless it pleases Krishna.  A reminder.

We all need reminders.  When we look up and catch ourselves, we remember Swamiji.  Businessmen remind themselves with words like “THINK” and “TIME MEANS MONEY”.  We remind ourselves by asking:  “Is this for Krishna or for me?”  I drew my face in because I was there in 1966.  You’ll see that I look happy in the inset.  That’s because I’m still practicing Krishna consciousness by Prabhupada’s grace.  I am happy.