A Movable Feast
of Roadside Attractions

By Elizabeth Wix

Long Island artist Gordon Inyard's exhibition of 35 photo-realist watercolors and acrylics at the Bryant Library in Roslyn celebrates this strand of Americana that, while not vanishing, has changed architecturally from its traditional image. In the heyday of the classic diner - the '40s and '50s - there were thousands and Inyard succeeds in a precise documentation of some that still exist on Long Island as well as elsewhere on the East Coast.

It is debatable whether diners are objects of beauty - many, in fact, are pretty tacky and depressing - but they are reflections of our history and are viewed with intense affect on by their devotees, among whom Inyard can be counted. "Roland's Chuck Wagon" in Laconia, N.Y., seems the very apotheosis of the breed, a railroad car-type building with an outdoor takeout counter. Strung with yellow light bulbs and fronted by two scarlet garbage pails lined with black plastic and an apron of green indoor-outdoor carpeting, the diner sits surrounded by cracked asphalt and unkempt grass. Perched on the outside shelf is the requisite napkin dispenser.

This is all instantly recognizable stuff, as is the "Diner" in Lawrence, where Inyard introduces two figures - rather unusual in his work. They are patrans, the most striking of whom is an overweight, middle-aged woman in tight pants and a white sleeveless top who looks as if she's-enjoyed her food.

There is an atmosphere of melancholy about the abandoned "Pineland Diner" somewhere on Route 1 in Maine: The building, painted green and set before evergreens, seems out of sync with the prevailing color scheme, of today's- diners, which usually feature variations on the red-white-and-blue, color scheme - perhaps a patriotic comment of sorts? Many of the buildings captured in these paintings are beginning to decay: In the "International Diner," located in Queens, the window frames are stained; in the classic, tube-shaped "Salem Diner," the roof is peeling. Yet, this lends a kind of nostalgic charm.

Inyard's "roadside attractions" also embrace motels and other buildings that seem relics of our past. "The Motel Greenpoint," with its turquoise sea-horse motif brings us instantly in touch with beach vacations from the '50s. The movie theater's facade in "Southampton" echoes a disappearing type of architecture.

And, he's turned his attention to relating phenom- ena such as neon signs: In "Cabins" from New Hampshire, two letters dangle askew; Westbury's "The Last Drive In," advertises three features in a virtuoso exploration of the visual impact of movie signage.

The American romance with the artifacts of the road - gas pumps and abandoned trucks, for example - are depicted with skill and affection. Inyard's paintings are precisely and carefully rendered, and form a powerful record of the cozy intimacy offered by the sort of establishment that goes by such names as Ed's or Molly's.

Elizabeth Wix is a free-lance writer.