Dream Lover

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Pan

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Junkie

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My First Three Pieces

SEAQUEEN

WOMAN WARRIOR

MARYLINE'S NIGHTMARE

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Making Art With Found Objects

How many times have you wandered through a museum of modern art and looked at the various pieces on display and say, "Pshaw! I could do that!" But you didn't do that. Art. I didn't either until recently, four days ago to be precise.

My creative juices began flowing heavily earlier this month when I decided to "do a painting" for my best friend, Mark, after not having done anything art-like for many years. Mark is a very successful attorney who can buy just about whatever he wants or needs (but in fact, he's a very modest guy, drove the same beat-up pick-up for umpteen years until he began to think that it looked strange for a successful attorney to drive around in such a beater), so buying him another singing Billy big-Mouth Bass just seemed vapid and wasteful. So I messed around with a canvas and paints. I even appropriated my girlfriend's glitter glue she'd bought to make her daughter a design on a tee-shirt. Anyhow, I was instantly struck by that sort of manic happiness that I used to get as a child and young man while doing similar type art. I sent Mark the painting with the message, "I bet nobody got you one of these!"

I loved doing the painting and can tell you that it was very therapeutic for me. I so wanted to get back that rush of creating art but wasn't sure what to do. I then remembered that I used to make toy soldiers from wood scraps when I was a kid. They were very rudimentary, blocky, but I got great pleasure from making them, painting them, playing with them. So I set out on foot to find some suitable chunks of wood with which to make figures. As I walked along the streets and intersections around my home, I saw lots of cool stuff on the shoulders of the roads, the detrius of commerce and commuters. So I decided to incorporate whatever cool stuff I found, stuff that had emotive value into my pieces. And as I walked along the streets and roads, looking for treasures, the stuff I had jangling in my pockets began to speak to me. The piece I would make began to coalesce and congeal in my unconscious mind. So when I got home, the general idea was fixed. That's not to say that happy accidents did not happen and I'd have to change my design. I did. A lot. And the changes made the pieces, I think, that much more evocative.

Combien de fois vous etes-vous ballades dans un musee d'art moderne, regardant les differentes pieces exposees, en vous disant

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