Bio: I am a determined man. Unlike Henry Miller who arrived in Paris at the age of forty suspecting that he was an artist but needing six months of stimulation-by-poverty to prove it, I have known all my life that I am another one in a long line, both ignored and distinguished, to have the (mis)fortune of that mysterious element "X" inside me. I am forty-six years old, home teaching a twelve-year-old daughter, and retiring every night into a basement studio with my music and paints. This has been my practice for over twenty years, for I have taught our other daughter (age 23) until high school, working as a line cook to make ends meet, and an artist at every free moment to tame the element "X". I have written and self-published ten books with provocative titles and very few readers, had several self-sponsored shows exhibiting my work, and putting our family in deeper debt year after year. One could say that to the present day my life has painted its own tribute to a persisting in folly that might make a Henry Miller envy another fool. Professionally I have remained an enthusiastic failure. That is I buy paints, canvas, wood, frames, work feverishly, and have over the past five years, joined the unsaid "show circuit", exhibiting my paintings where ever and whenever possible, always at my own (and wife Rose's) expense, having few if any sales in upstate N.Y., and yet getting up after falling down again, and again, and again. For years I have painted relatively small and compact, as funds would allow. There's a college next door that sells smooth Bristol paper for two dollars per 30"x 40" sheet and Golden paints for enormous sums. A 2 ounce tube for twelve dollars goes far enough for miserly painters, and I have been very careful to stretch the paints out smooth for economy. But this year I have discovered big. The painting mentioned above is comically rendered, not at all where I want to go with paint. I foresee brave, broad stokes with wide brushes across eight foot canvas, and palette knives replaced with old record album covers. I have always worked fast, but now desire more of an unharried dance to my painting. Forever confident in application of color and contrast, I now feel the pressing need to let go like the sage. When I daydream this possibility I feel a tingling in my fingertips. That is joy and optimism! It is what I seek for my future as a painter. And then the reality of living check-by-check becomes all too real, and I find myself fermenting country wines to supplement income to justify expensive paints. I shop at A.C. Moore holding my 40% off coupon to buy inferior pigment that dries as drab as a February day in Oswego. I am always seeking gallery representation and/or rich patrons to free me as an artist, to open up the door of giving myself, expressively, routinely, until it is my turn for the great sleep.

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  1. A great about page. In my judgment you have everything a man needs to succeed, If you are not making it know that the time has not yet come. I encourage you to remain strong and keep digging. Some gold minds are deeper than others. If you give up because you are not getting to the gold, you shall have wasted your time; and sad shall you be when tomorrow you find that someone came after you and got to the gold. Dig on my friend. You are building a mansion not a hut. That is why it’s taking such great time to come.

  2. Thanks. Wow, you certainly inspire! I have a 55% off coupon today. I’ll get a great big canvas on the strength of those words. Though I will need a mansion quite soon, to store all these painted rectangles.
    Carry on good man. Ron

  3. JOY OF MAN’S DESIRING, like most of Giono’s stories, makes me a little drunk when I read it (just now for the fourth time), and afterwards leaves me a little giddy and wondering. I’ve been enjoying Giono for over forty years. It was a pleasure to see your paintings and read your enthusiasm for him.

    TWO RIDERS OF THE STORM knocks me clean off my feet; strong meat!

    1. Thank you David! A good time of year for me to pick up the book again.I want to see and hear the birds! And thanks for the tip. I’ll look for it.

  4. It is unfair of me to comment on your work as I know you and see what you sacrifice so that people may see truth in all of its comic horror. I strive in my words and images to make simple statements that allow for endlessly complex interpretations. When I view your work I see intricate and detailed imagery in wonderfully vibrant chromatitudinessousity* that always says to me: “It’s really not that hard, folks. Stop being jerks and cowards and the world WILL get better:”–despite the all too vivid denouement of democracy that is unfolding in front of us.

    We, you and I and others who try to open the skulls of the benighted with the trepan of knowledge, stand in solidarity and say to the Naked Emperor L’Orange:

    “We who are about to die, are laughing so hard we’re pissing our pants!”.

    I look forward to laughing for some time, yet. I also look forward to your next show and our next conversation.


    That guy with the little cinnamon colored dog and the ugly green house.

    *the OED will not get to that one, for their “new words” list, this millenia

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