It took me a long time to put this website together.  In many ways I’m old school.  I haven’t heard the word “neo-luddite” in a few years, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still a few of us around.  Hey, I actually used a phone that dialed until just last year.  I’m serious.

If you use the free web building software that Apple provides, you will discover that when you begin to build your blog page, the generic template provided by Apple is titled “Day of longboarding (small case “l”, and it comes with a picture of a hot chick on a surfboard.  It’s a gorgeous beach day and she looks like she knows what she’s doing.  You’re supposed to delete the photo and insert your own picture, one that actually relates to the theme of your blog, but I decided to leave the girl on the board.  What the hell.  Hang ten everybody.

What about art?  If you’ve looked at some of the pages on this web site you’ll get a pretty good idea of how I see things.  My art and my comics are the result of a very full life.  I’ve been lucky enough to be able to view things from a pretty safe place.  I was beat up only once in my life, back in sixth grade, and I’ve never held a gun in my hand. 

I’ve been fortunate to get a chance to see things from many different angles.  Over the past twenty-five years I’ve earned a living hammering nails, telling other people how to hammer nails, and teaching children art and how to behave like model citizens.  I’ve also been a day trader, a poker player and the manager of a New York City poker club.  That was a strange job.   I’ve co-written young adult books and ghost written a few others.  I sat in an office for nine months creating online college applications for the College Board.  Happily, I’ve never worked in a restaurant and I’ve never worn a tie to work.  And with the exception of the nine month desk job, I’d never had a boss until I became a public school teacher. 

Through it all I’ve made a lot of art.  As of this moment, I have a few hundred paintings, drawings, collages, prints and small sculptures, most of which are in a storage facility in the Bronx.  I have some pieces in the collections of a few fine people who see promise in me.  Of course, my own apartment is well appointed.  Recently, I began The Gift Project, which has put 23 of my pieces in circulation around the globe.

When the East Village art scene folded at the end of the eighties, I kind of went underground.  It wasn’t a purposeful or angry decision, it just happened.  The New York art world moved to Chelsea and then to Williamsburg, but I didn’t go with it.  Though I kept on making art, I stopped looking around for people to show it.  Keeping up with the gallery world, at least for me, has always been terribly difficult.  Shmoozing with art people is no fun at all.  You need tons of ego to keep afloat.  You need to go to parties, wear specially chosen outfits that match your artistic style, and you must shout, “Look at me!  Check me out!  Here I am!”  When nobody looks, you have to take a few steps in any direction and shout it again.  And again.  Until someone buys into your little game.

You also have to stomach the most absurd comments that are made about your artwork.  You bring a body of work you’ve poured your soul into before a reputable gallery owner and you stand there quietly while he or she looks it over.  They thumb through the work and make quick comments as if they are the authorities on your work and on art in general.  They tell you its good or it’s bad or it’s derivative or too self-referential or not weird enough.  It’s too green or not green enough.  If you show them stripes they might ask for checks.  You think I’m kidding?  Try showing your own work to a gallery dealer.

There is a great disconnect  between what an artist and what a dealer want.  The artist wants recognition and acknowledgement that his work is valid.  He wants his voice to be heard, because he feels he has something worthwhile to say.  Validation just might help him sleep at night.  The gallery owner is a bit less invested emotionally.  He simply wants to be able to sell your work so that he can pay the rent and feed his family.  Sometimes artists need the money to do that too, but most of them have day jobs.

The only time I was ever even close to being a full time artist was way back in the early eighties.  At the time I was a relatively new artist with tons of energy and determination.  It was a time when you could live well enough for about nine dollars a day, so with my day job as a freelance builder, I needed to work about a day or two a month to pay the nut.  The rest of the time was for art.  That was a great time and I learned a tremendous amount about art.  I spent five or so years making marks on hundreds and hundreds of pieces of paper, canvases, wood and the like.  Ideas came easily then and there was a supportive downtown community.  The work went up--big, messy, colorful paintings got sold and I felt like I was the real deal, a New York artist on the scene.

That was short-lived.  What followed was a long period of self-reflection, little feedback, changing economics and life itself.   Being an artist through the 1980s and 90s and into the 21st century was a lesson in sensory overload.  While entire continents refashioned themselves and broke down barrier walls, others built new walls and hiding places.  The words terror, pixel and speed took on new meanings.  Pollution-causing companies purchased the rights to pollute more.  The market exploded.  And tumbled.   No child was left behind.   9/11.   It snowed in May and we swam in December.   The cost of printer ink made it possible for the entire planet to be given free printers.

It’s great being an artist today.  There’s so much to respond to.  Duchamp has been dead 41 years, but we still owe him a big thank you for showing us that anything goes in art.   A great burden, however, accompanies this.  As easy as it is to make something today and call it “art,” you still have to be able to stand by your creation.

Here’s to art, the second biggest three letter word I know!

I look forward to responses, comments, creative words about art.  Please contribute to the blog here.