Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man

The NY Times article on gentrification and race from a few weeks back identified me as an artist. This is true, even though I haven't made a "living" from being an artist since 2001 (Im in IT now). Back in 1995, lots of artists were moving to Harlem--drawn by the more space for less money thing--but it was in Harlem that I underwent my transformation from just a visually focused person, to one who understood the gravitas of process. Starting with drawing and oil painting, I transitioned from canvas and stretchers to cardboard and plastics. Creating art from the available materials, I broke down my scavenging to a science: Thursdays was recycling on the Upper West Side, on the Upper East, Tuesdays. On Monday mornings I would scour the Parks for crack vial stoppers, lighters, glassine baggies, syringes and the occasional shell casing from the weekends activities. All this detritus was to then be carefully collected, washed, sorted and filed. Over the years I've amassed a huge collection: nearly 2000 crack vial stoppers, 500 lighters, 1000 cigarette boxes, 500 liquor bottles and thousands of weed, pcp and heroin baggies. I drew the line at anything with bodily fluid and actual drugs, having found crack on about 1/2 occasions. All of this "disposable" material became the metaphor for the "disposable" people of Harlem, who were caught up in this destructive cycle. I then used this material to express my own feelings of victimization in an effort to re-gain control over my environment. Here's the result of some of that obsessive-compulsive behavior:

Cracking Up (1996)
This I made from cardboard glued to wood. I then gessoed the two and glued crack vial stoppers, hypodermic syringes and lighters to it. All in all, the street value of the crack is about $5000.
This next work, Hands On, 1997, was a result of all of the collection notices, bills, tickets, summonses and other paper detritus that I received due to financial hardship. I then glued all of that to a canvas and painted 11th C. Japanese mudras in a rotating square pattern. In the center is a buddha--Amitabyha--the Buddha of the Pure Land.

Amitabhya lives in a state of bliss that is just shy of Samdhi (enlightenment), but through Art, creates a plane from which Enlightenment is achievable. Art became this plane for me and this is how I dealt with my pain during those years, by transforming it into something positive!
I began to used elements from the subway, like signs and Metrocards...
Wet Paint, 1998

Train of Thought, 1999

Craftsman, 2000

and combined them in ways which were meaningful to me. I had the fortune of meeting up with James de la Vega--who shared similar sentiment--and in 2002, we collaborated on a few projects about Harlem.
De La Vega's Art Show, 103rd and Lexington Ave., (2002)

I also began using IDs, credit cards, phone cards and and other forms of electronic commerce mechanisms including packaging.
Yellow Jacket, Metrocards, glue. (2000)


Organ Donor, 2002

Fenex, 2001

NYMonarch, 2002

Eavesdrop (2003)

False Profit, 2003
US currency, magazines, advertisements, packaging on gessoed cardboard.

Queztalcoatl, (in progress)
phonecards on gessoed foam core.

Across 110th St.

"I was the third brother of five,
doing whatever I had to do to survive.
Now Im not saying what I did was alright,
trying to break out of the ghetto is a day-to-day fight."
--Bobby Womack, "Across 110th St."
Living across from Central Park for eight years, I saw a lot of things go down. On more than one occasion I found crack either just in the Park or in front of my lobby. Alot has changed since then, but the spectre of drugs lies still lies just below the surface. Much of the recent violence in the area is due to rival drug gangs. Such activity seems at odds with the new crop of million dollar lofts. This cognitive dissonance can be hard to get one's head around, but I vividly remember the day that this neighborhood forever tilted in the direction of gentrification. It was a rainy night early 2002 and I had to get up before sunrise to go to my shitty job. I noticed the chicken place on 111th and Lennox was taped off with yellow police tape, as I ducked into the 2,3 station. Later that day I read that two dealers where shot by undercover DTs when they pulled out on them during an undercover buy. One of the dealers died, and the wounded one was tried and convicted of attempted murder of a police officer. After that, this block chilled way out, and paved the way for this next and second wave of gentrification...culminating in 111 Central Park North.
Breaking all records for apartments sold above 96th St., 111 CPN stridently boasted on its barricades, "Condos starting at 1.5 Million." I heard more that one derisive comment regarding that phrase while waiting for the bus.
Still, it is a purty buidling...
a little to shiny for my taste. Im sure the views are killer.
Here's a spot that about to be developed next to the one remaining SRO on the block.
And the venerable Lincoln Correctional Facility!
I think this traffic circle is still 1 year from completion!
Now people only sell fresh produce in Morningside Park!
Avalon Bay...rents starting at $3000
The views are amazing!
My current buidling, The Dwyer, from Avalon Bay 14th floor.
Crazy amenities too...great life if you can afford it!

The Healing Power of Art (The 9/11 Edition)

They say that time heals all wounds. But I dont think this is true. I once saw a clip of a soldier who fought in WWI and was hella old, but still got choked up when recounting how his buddy died some 70 years earlier. No, the only thing that heals wounds is Art. Im glad I had the chance to witness this piece in person before it was destroyed, but I would like it creators to know it brought me joy and peace when I saw it.