Art Gallery

The Prairie Dogg talks to Art Garfunkel and finds the dirt on Venice, flying beer cans and what Tom Wolfe wears to Jann Wenner’s parties.

PD: How are you feeling this morning?

AG: I’m feeling wonderful. I love my job. I love the joy of singing. I did a show in Denver last night with the orchestra, and it was great.

Plan on doing any skiing while you’re in Colorado?

I wonder if my skiing days are over. Maybe now I’m the guy who helps put his son’s boots on. I don’t know that I want all the huffing and puffing.

You’ve walked across America and Japan (in increments). I’d imagine you have to be in shape to do that.

Well, there’s no adrenaline shot quite like two or three days of skiing. It’s supremely healthy. I enjoy being up there with that different kind of higher power. Maybe it’s more of an injury thing. I’ve been lucky all these years. Never broke a bone.

No injuries walking across the country?

Oh, walking is very safe.

What about Stephen King? He got hit by a van on his daily walk. Didn’t that give you pause?

I suppose there was one time. It involves a can of beer that was nearly full. This story will be the best part of the interview, because it’s kind of nasty and the media loves that. On second thought, maybe I won’t tell you.

Come on now. You already started.

I was walking in Ohio on a Friday night when somebody leaned out of a car and hit me in the sternum with a can of beer that was three-quarters full. It was close to cracking my sternum. When you get hit with a nearly full beer can thrown from a car going 40-50 miles per hour, it will cause a scary little crack.

I understand you’re walking across Europe. How far have you gotten?

Well, how far have you gotten in your walk across Europe?

Uh … I got about halfway down the concourse at Heathrow.

I started in Ireland and went across Britain and down through France and Grenoble, and where I’m at now is just about seven miles over the Italian border.

Weren’t the Alps kind of a barrier?

In January and February, yes. When I was last there, it wasn’t what I’d call a barrier. Beautiful, magnificent — those would be better words.

Do you need to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” to keep you motivated when walking?

(Laughs) Sometimes I do. I listen to the Chieftains, you know that little Irish band? Their spirited, rhythmic stuff is great for a walker. I really like listening to one particular Mark Knopfler album when I’m walking. Bruce Hornsby. Those are my rock guys.

So you don’t listen to Metallica?

I think you’re talking to the wrong guy. I have many blind spots, and I fear heavy metal is one of them. I did used to listen to Led Zeppelin a great deal, though.

Is it possible for Art Garfunkel to lead a normal life?

I do the best I can. It’s so important to stay grounded. If I hurt somebody, I have to apologize. When I go to the polling booth to cast my anti-George Bush vote, I’m only one person, and it’s only one vote. My celebrity means nothing.

You seem to hide it fairly well if you can cross the country on foot without being impeded too much.

It’s like a guy’s night out. Only it’s just me and my notebook and my Walkman and my map and my sneakers.

So when you’re walking or touring, do you miss New York City?

It’s a good retreat into room-service land. It’s a retreat from the complexity of life. All you have to worry about is being healthy, being joyful and singing well. When you go away, having that singularity really simplifies life.

I’ve heard you live next door to [New York City Mayor Michael] Bloomberg and Tom Wolfe.

Boy, all my secrets are out.

Does Tom or the mayor ever have to come over and tell you to turn down the music?

I almost never see Tom Wolfe. When I do, he’s wearing his whites. This is a man who goes out in a white suit. Tom is a wonderful, dignified Southern gentleman. I see him at all of [Rolling Stone publisher] Jann Wenner’s parties. I know the mayor fairly well. He’s invited me over for dinner before, and I have to walk all of twelve steps to get there. I’m a [Bill] Clinton guy, but the mayor is the most ferociously positive politician I’ve ever met. He has all these ideas of what he wants to do for the city. He’s a ball of good energy.

For your final show, would you choose Carnegie Hall, Central Park or Public School 164 [where Garfunkel met Paul Simon]?

Do you know Venice? Do you know that church with the big dome, San Marco’s? You know that square in front of San Marco’s with all those pigeons? You know all those 400-year-old walls of Italian architecture that make sort of a trapezoid? I want a stage put in the middle of all of that. I want to sing, maybe with Paul, right there. I want to be silky and beautiful. I want to hear what it sounds like when the music bounces off those walls. I would call that the show I want to play before I die.