WHAT INSPIRED ME

When I was very small, I used to drag a cat around with me wherever I went. Where other small people used well-worn flannels to drag through leaves, dirt, peanut butter and jam, I had my cats. Suffice it to say that they were the best-loved critters on the block, if not the ‘best dressed’. While plastic and porcelain dolls sat gathering dust on the shelves, my parents and their colleagues determined that I was to be a “veterinarian in training” as they observed me bundling small furry mewing things in bandages, blankets, bibs and cribs. The companionship of the cats seemed to fill my emotional needs as well as my imagination. They passed the time while the new baby brother addition kept mother, dad and my grandmother occupied. My main human cohort was my grandfather who contributed greatly to my ever-blossoming imagination. His grandfatherly yarns contained some of the all time greatest grampa fibs ever fabricated. This widened my eyes and prepared me for my own yarn spinning abilities later as I began to find trouble to get into. A good imagination can be one’s best friend when one is busy enjoying life in a manner that mother would not approve. I also learned that the old folks were the ones that were full of tall tales, comfy laps, warm cookies, and magic. I’ve loved the seniors ever since.

As a rather loquacious preschooler, I was often plopped in the rear of the station wagon, given some paper and a pencil and told to “Shut up and draw”. This kept me occupied as well as my parents sane on most family trips. It also kept me from yanking my little brother’s hair when the folks weren’t looking. I spent a lot of time day dreaming on those trips. I dreamed about one day becoming a famous artist and running away to France where I would paint to eat.

Growing up in San Diego, California in an area of upper middle class professionals was not what one would expect from the average starving artist. My parents were never really poor, yet they weren’t as wealthy as our neighbors or as well off as mother would have liked. She spent much of her time dreaming, scheming and trying to figure ways for Dad to claw his way up that corporate structure. This met with a little difficulty for a meat cutter for a large chain grocery. His occupation suited me fine, though as it meant that we would have steak at least once a week. That was my absolute favorite. I could have eaten cow morning, noon and night. I was a card carryin’ meat and potatoes kid. While other kids were developing craters in their teeth from candy and junk, I was building a case for concrete arteries… Until I reached my thirties and I discovered red wine. Eventually the trips for annual checkups showed that I had evened out my LDL with my HDL, so the stuff they say in medical journals must be true.

HOW I DID IT

Drawing and painting were always only my ‘hobby’. I dabbled in it whenever I had some spare time that was not already reserved for my family, my job, my house or my yard. My art encompassed painting on walls as I decorated my home to fashioning things out of seashells and driftwood to hang in my patio.

My first real job in art was in the medical field where I did some freelance medical illustration for a few publications. My work had always been tight-handed making me a good candidate for an illustrator. I suppose it was all that work in the back seat of the station wagon with a 5”x7” pad of paper.

Unfortunately, as the family grew along with their needs, I had to do other things to pay those bills. Usually my biggest dilemma was finding the time to do what I enjoyed. It seemed that my day job always took precedence thereby eliminating the time I needed to pound out the artwork I loved. Working as a Planner/Scheduler in various industries from utilities to aerospace kept me in paint, canvases, sketchpads and an occasional bottle of wine, but rarely presented me the time to create.

As a contractor, I moved about the country and saw many beautiful spots. Vermont was breathtaking as were parts of Connecticut. Living in San Luis Obispo County in the late eighties offered the scenic beauty that eventually heralded my desire to once again take up the paintbrush. The rolling hills were fluorescent green in the winter and spring (which gave the locals reason to refer to them as the “Irish Hills”). In the summer, they turn to shades of gold enhanced by the live oaks and lovely vineyards dotting the hillsides. We lived in the Los Osos/Morro Bay area on California’s Central Coast. This afforded us the luxury of a fog bank that crept in each evening and lingered. Our area was kept cool when other spots in the county were feeling the sweltering heat. The fog bank also laced fingers out to the hills and settled in the small valleys below. This frequently changing mood touches the artist in most people and I was not spared. I knew I had to drag out the easel when I moved there.

Over the years, my tight handed illustrations had kept most of my images small and confined to the 8 x 11 reams of copy machine paper or small sketch pads. Many of my quick designs, drawings and cartoons went straight to recycle bins. College soon changed all that.

While on a sabbatical from my contract job, I enrolled in a local college in San Luis Obispo to get some “art culture”. I chose a mixture of classes to get a feel of the different types of media to find my true niche. My instructors seemed bent on turning me into a neo-expressionist and continually persuaded me to use my entire arm and body to make one brush stroke. Working my way from cramped 5”x7” paintings and illustrations to 4’x 6’ canvases was difficult at best. I had dug a groove in the way I put pencil to pad over all those years and no teacher who was almost young enough to date my kid was going to tell me any different. Nevertheless, I succumbed to peer pressure and managed to pull A’s in all of my classes despite my grumbling.

My cartoons have always seemed to command the most attention. Cartooning may be my first love even over my painting. For many years I longed to become a political cartoonist. Perhaps it’s because of my desire to portray people as others see them and not as they would have you see them. I always said that in my business, (my day job), one had to maintain a sense of humor to survive. Well, I’ve survived thus far and no one has gotten too offended by my portrayals. Many friends, family members and (yes, my cats) have become characters that have skittered across the paper and found lives of their own.

I have dabbled in many mediums and tried out many subjects. I have determined that I will never have exactly what I’m looking for as long as new mediums are introduced and new subject matter raises it’s head for me to have fun with. I seem to be destined to do my ‘own thing’, I’m afraid. I have given up the serious and launched into the whimsical, coupling my love for cartoons with my love for painting. The results, I hope, will make you smile.