The biography below was written nearly two decades ago.
In the years since that writing, my paintings and sculptures have become mostly non-representational. What I have come to understand in these last twenty years is that the making of my art takes place in the space between the conscious mind and the emotions.
These works are not planned or carefully designed. They are a byproduct, a documentation of how these two approach or avoid each other and grow out of the observable tensions that exist between the natural world and the human manipulation of it. This is more compelling for me than any landscape or portraiture found in representational art which I did for many years. It is the compelling drama of our time which has found its way into my resent sculptures in which found natural materials play against manufactured materials or found objects, and in my paintings by imposing arbitrary hard-edge elements against loose gestural painting. There is no intention to reconcile them on my part. My art simply abhors a well-conceived plan, though I do not mind if a certain degree of visual seductiveness occurs. At their heart they are simply a response to the Jinyang condition of the world that we live in, much as John Constable’s landscape painting of nineteenth century England was a response to his world of uncluttered time and place. I am not concerned with easy accessibility or beauty. If there is any state in which beauty exists in my work, it is in how successful the Form-and-Content are in arguing with each other. That is where the journey depicted in the biography below has brought me.
Born in Paterson, New Jersey on February 24, 1939
After completing graduate school for an MFA at Rutgers University in 1970, I worked in a variety of three dimensional forms which included site specific works, installations and performance pieces. The site-specific works were often created out of doors from materials found on site (earth, stones, plants) in combination with manufactured materials. There were also site-specific works constructed in galleries that responded to that particular space. One such work was a quarter scale replica of the gallery centered in the gallery space, which required that a visitor climb a step ladder to peer down into the scale model or crawl through the quarter scale entry door to see the work. Most did. What absurd fun.
Installation pieces, more conceptual in their nature, were constructed in gallery spaces rather than in a studio. One such show took place over a three week period and consisted of a fifteen-foot-tall live birch tree, taken from a suburban New Jersey lawn, suspended root end up, by a block and tackle from the ceiling, like a steer, in order to be butchered and transformed, section by section, into various visually seductive sculptures that were free for the taking.
Many of my works at that time were Performance Pieces. These took place in time – at the least a few minutes, or in one such work, three weeks. That piece was a collaborative effort with the artist Alex Nicolesque. It took place at 112 Green Street where we lived for the entire period on a cable suspension bridge that we never left, during which it was converted into an unstable suspended tower structure that required we counter balance each other’s movements at all times in order to not topple the fifteen-foot-tall structure. All of the above and other like activities took place in NYC and environs at such alternative spaces as Apple Gallery, 112 Green Street in Soho and the Avant Garde Festivals organized by the cellist Charlotte Moorman. In the main, my content during this period was concerned with the juxtaposition of the natural world against the intrusion of human activities. The impetus for my work had its origins in the mad briliance of early twentieth century Dadaism and Surrealism, who’s art originated as a reaction to the angst of dehumanizing societal conditions, conditions that in my opinion, have only increased since then.
From the mid-eighties to the mid-nineties my work transitioned from the experimental to more traditional art forms of abstract painting, landscape painting and sculpture. The reasons for this drastic change are complex, but generally reflected a need for a more personal aesthetic, a moving away from the alternative art associated with avant-garde forms toward a growing desire to make more tangible, permanent objects. At the same time, with the usual artist dilemma of survival requirements looming, I started an architectural restoration business, which dovetailed perfectly with my new inclination for object making.
This personal evolution coincided with, and to a large degree, occurred because of visits to the magical island of Monhegan in Maine. It was on that island, beginning in the summer of 1978, that I began to do graphite landscape drawings. Eventually oil pastels, water color, and collage elements were added to my work. By the late eighties I’d resumed artwork full time by committing all my efforts to sculpture, drawing and painting. This led to a series of landscape paintings based upon Monhegan images as well as sculptures of house forms, often whimsical in character, and iconographic landscapes in wood.
Over the last several years I have reintroduced some of my avant-garde concerns from the seventies, with a return to sculptural works that incorporate found natural materials with discordant constructed elements.
My most recent efforts are focused on a body of color saturated abstract acrylic paintings (48” x 48”) that are composed of freely painted areas juxtaposed with arbitrary hard geometric elements.
While my work has varied greatly in form and choice of materials over the years, the content, which is drawn from the tensions between the natural world and the seeming disharmony of contemporary life, has been consistent throughout. It is at the heart of all my work as an art making human being. My concern has never been for the creation of beautiful or decorative works, although I do wander into that sphere from time to time, but rather, I am compelled by my inner demon, to search, not for terminal answers, but ever better questions. The possible implication being, I may need to live forever.
Within the last few years I have put fingers to MacBook Air and written a two-part memoir that describes the journey made from bassinet to artist. The first book, Paterson Boy, has been published by Dragonfly Books & Media in association with Rare Bird Books. The next book, I’m Not Here, was published by Rivercliff Books and Media.
