Artist Workshop:

The imagination is the artist’s tool. All other tools are secondary and rely upon technique. Imagination relies upon awareness, a sense of creativity and the idea. No two imaginations are the same. Why does this basic tool become lost as one grows older? How do you recapture its power and ability? The answer lies in the awareness and understanding of its essence. This intensive one day workshop packs in the basics of that hidden and often overlooked universe. Contact the artist to find out current scheduled performances. Cost $500. Lunch provided.

Caveat emptor: There is no guarantee of outcome. The artist will perform a workshop based on the above and participants are encouraged to become engaged, take notes, ask questions and to perform exercises. But no result is promised. Nor will a certificate or grade be provided to validate any conceived or imagined outcome.

On the way home I got thinking….

Isn’t it ironic that a big wig clothing corporation is thinking about using my pics as a backdrop? When it comes to corporate road culture, I avoid it like the plague. Unless of course I’m into making fun of it (see McCulture). Thinking further I thought why not appropriate a few Ralph Lauren model photos and photoshop them in next to my pictures?

So here I am. I decided to put circles on the faces, just like John Baldessari does. This really makes them true art. I can just see these beautiful white people lounging in front of old buildings. Places that they’ll never go.

It’s cool really. I’m loving the look and thinking this might be a new series.

straight shots like Walker, sun like Hopper, lines like Mondrian, abstract and isolating. architecture, buildings, cultural landscapes. a progression of styles and aesthetic elements finding form and color.

Why I like forlorn, vacant, abandoned buildings – the edge of ruin and revival? History and potential exist in one moment. All time exists in one place.

Before the great hotel take-over and interstate speedways. A forgotten untrusted road-side attraction – the American motel. Now Indian-American, a split heritage – which is American anyway.

ideas, pictures, experiences along the road, unplanned, unable to be planned, taken along the way.

A few years ago I was called by the architect for the Mandarin Oriental Hotel of Boston as the hotel was soon to be open and one of the final details was art work for the walls of the hotel, condominium corridors and interior public resting spaces. He had seen my pictures from a Kyoto series of prints I did previously and that were part of the Boston Public Library permanent collection.

I referred the architect to Ron of Rolly-Michaux Gallery to make the transaction. The architect implied he was looking for “a deal” in exchange for the prestige of my work being hung on the hallowed halls of Boston’s elite property. He urged we work together directly and started talking of a large number of prints to be ordered. I declined and sent him to the gallery as they were contracted as my agent. The deal went sour as their offer was quite low.

At first I was upset at the missed opportunity. But after some thought came to the conclusion that values should trump sales. When one considers the high prices paid for a room or a meal, one should expect appropriate compensation for the artists adorning the walls and providing the sight-lines for all the patrons as an almost permanent installation. But unfortunately this is not the case, even in one of Boston’s “best” properties. So I am proudly NOT in the art collection of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel of Boston.

First town “Shartlesville” PA. 2 PM. A town on the cusp, en route to Gettysburg. Along old route 22, shells of buildings and facades forgotten by new interstates and fast food chains. Simple lives still being lived, children, big wheels and vernacular architecture. Ruins, chipped paint and sun.

3 PM beer and high sun.

Small town pictures are my favorite. I like to drive into a small town while meandering across America. No plans, no preconceived notions and just look around. This particular town in Shartlesville PA. One of those many towns left behind when a major interstate and its resulting corporate culture take over. There’s character in these towns and its easy to find. Miller life at the local bar, painted sides of houses chipped, trophies, toys and that unique piece of architecture lost. Again there is that edge that I so often think about. The edge of destruction and renewal. That’s where things are most interesting. Ghosts of the past, anticipation of a future. Living museums that have yet to get the Main Street historic preservation treatment. The real thing left behind without smart phones. Nostalgia.

paired abstractions 2

paired abstractions 1

We all come from somewhere, often non-descript inceptions but a place nonetheless. That place has time and the stage of the world connected to it no matter how ephemeral and gossamer the threads that bind. Often I look back and find nothing. Nothing of importance, little in significance to the grand happening of the world. Isolated from the zeitgeist of change, revolution, war that was 1968, the year I was born. But like a labyrinth that is difficult to trace, even the most solitary of events, lonely of figures and small of scale is part of the grand connection, the flux of small particles and spirit that make up a time.

It is into this that a lonely woman gave birth to her only child in hiding. It was there that I was given to nuns and called “John”- the most common of names – possibly to be lost in the mass movement of mankind, to lose origin. It was there that a weary heart returned to lay claim on a child.

The Harvard Square Document was a series of photographs displayed in store front windows and walls of Harvard Square, throughout Harvard Square in 2002. It was a broad selection of my own pictures concentrating on street musicians along with historical images from the archives of Harvard University and the City of Cambridge. Several of my images are in the book HARVARD SQUARE: AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY SINCE 1950. In the near future I will be revisiting these older negatives and putting together another exhibition of the work.

This sign is from a Native American Indian reservation powwow.

This sign is from Selma Alabama.

This sign commemorates the Anniversary of 9/11.

This sign is naughty.

This sign is in bad taste. It was during the anniversary of 9/11 in NY.

This sign is homemade. North End of Boston.

This sign is corporate and homemade in Harvard Square.

This sign sucks! It means GMO and it is all over our American roads.

These signs are cool and exist in almost every town.

This is a road sign.

This is a more descriptive road sign.

This is an old sign being re-used.

This is a sign of the times.

This sign is of a bad habit.

This sign is Montana cool.

This sign is also Montana cool.

This sign exists at every Motel/Hotel.

This sign means stop.

This sign is of a by-gone era.

This sign represents the forgotten American motel.

This sign goes with the VFW sign.

This sign is the opposite of the GMO sign. There are practically none of these.

This sign represents trains.

This sign is confusing.

This sign represents inner city beauty.

This sign represents cultural foods.

This sign means we like Obama.

This sign means wtf?

This sign means “we don’t care about your property value.”

This sign means crap for sale.

This sign means we can’t spell.

This sign means “support the little guy.”

This sign is typical urban.

This sign is cute.

This sign is outmoded.

This sign means music and beer.

This sign means country.

This sign commemorates the old American roads.

This sign means signs are mobile.

This sign means “drinks for sale.”

This sign means beer and babes go together.

These signs promote shows.

These signs are a combo of the old and the new.

This building is a sign.

This sign makes you feel safe to park your car.

This sign makes me want to use credit.

This sign should be in a museum.

This sign is old school.

This sign is simple.

This sign is provocative.

These signs are typical billboards selling stuff that is bad for you.

These signs represent moving.

This sign represents a call for help.