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A Memoir of sorts Part 1.

 I come from a background of divorce and grit. My young mother, with dreams bigger than her reality, married a much older man. He was an airline pilot in Cuba, his third marriage, and I’d be the last of his many kids. He was 64 when I was born, my mother in her early thirties. The man was tired, worn out. They divorced when I was three, in New Jersey. Immigrants, scraping by with hard work and blue-collar jobs. My father took whatever work he could find, mostly driving trucks. The communists in Cuba had torpedoed any real chances for future success in the United States. My two brothers and I ended up on public assistance. Then my mother started dating another man, and that’s when the real chaos began. Drugs and alcohol stormed into our lives, ushering in years of domestic violence, drama, and constant moving. New schools, new roach-infested apartments every six months. One day, a neighbor had a garage sale. We couldn’t afford much, but my eyes lit up when I saw a trunk full of drawing
Recent posts

Way of No Way (Bruce Lee) in Art?

 Back in my early 20s, I found myself working as a security officer in a hospital. Now, let me tell you, for a naturally shy and introspective guy, this job was a real test. Imagine having to be the authority figure, directing people during some of the most stressful moments of their lives. Add to that the fun of subduing violent or inebriated folks, especially on the weekend shifts. We had our fair share of interesting characters, like "HH," who was a sparring partner for Mike Tyson. When the police called to warn us about HH, we knew we were in for a ride. Then there was "Joe," a guy who had done serious time and always kept us on our toes. One day, a big, friendly guy from California showed up to visit a sick relative. He got to chatting with our team and mentioned he was opening a martial arts school in the area. Naturally, we were intrigued. This was the 90s, mind you, before MMA became all the rage. He introduced us to Jeet Kune Do, the martial art popularized

Being an artist is a lot like a rollercoaster ride. Here is what to do about it.

Being an artist is a lot like being on a rollercoaster. There are ups and downs but all of it thrilling. Thrilling can be seen as a negative with all its stress and fears. Who would want to go through that? Well, those very things can feel positive. It is understood that in order to enjoy the ride you simply accept that those stresses are part of it. Notice how most people feel exhilarated coming off the rollercoaster. In fact we tend to rush, now a days, to see what we looked like during those hairy pin turns in the photos posted as you walk out of the ride. Most people have fun. As artist we can have stretches of time when all is great. You can have paintings, like I did, flying all over the world to live in a new homes. Your bank account can be flush with cash, no credit card debts, maybe a bit of a surplus for fun things or investments. That’s how it was for me right after my first solo show in 2005: a sold out show, some local write ups, attention, more interest in my work. Thi

LOTA 1

Life Of This Artist number 1.  LOTA #1  Have you ever wondered what the nuts and bolts of actually being an artist is like? Are you an artist yourself? Let me give you a peek in how I do it around here. I am going to share some of my daily goings on this (for me unlikely) crazy profession. I aim to be candid and not pull any punches on some of my struggles and triumphs. I will let you in on how I create my paintings. I’ll share my marketing experiments and their results! This was never taught in school! (I may even rant on why it was not ) I’ll share on how I struggle to find time for art making and organizing my day. I am a husband a father of two young energetic boys and a brand spanking new little girl, I am also an adjunct professor at a local college and depending on the results of my marketing, then I am also an adjunct professor at a NOT so local college or university. Sometimes this is necessary to make ends meet and yet despite having nearly 2 or 3 nervous breakdowns a

Oasis in the night

There it is, like a, well, an Oasis in the night. Poor planning, too much bravado or faith in the wrong way, or just not being aware can have you close to empty. Or maybe the road is clear, the plan is good it is just that you are cutting it close. At the 11th hour there it is, shining bright, the much needed refueling. I know many of you know what I mean. I myself know it all too well these days. My choices in life, as do yours(?) can seem difficult and the outcomes uncertain. I guess this personal post is as much motivational in nature for myself. I know these refueling stations of life exist. It may seem scary there in the dark. All we can do is to keep on driving. It will show up. It must. It has. This drawing is a reminder. 7"x9" drawing Framed 14.5" x 17"  Price $980

Prints for Two Hearts Buenos Aires

Archival Ink on acid free archival paper. Image is 7"x 9"(inches) $45 plus shipping

Two Hearts? in Buenos Aires