"About
seven years ago, I was facing bankruptcy and foreclosure.
I had started a graphic design/editing business, but my business
model depended on a business partner pimping my work. When
he and I parted ways, I was a design whore with no Johns.
I
lived off of credit cards and savings, trying to pick up
pimping skills. When the cards maxed, I began selling my
possessions: the nice car (of two), the antiques, all the
furniture in the guest bedroom and living room. Finally,
I'd gotten rid of everything of value except the house
itself. And the art.
Years
prior, I'd bought a Sarah Higdon, Judging Venus. She had
quite a following in Austin at the time, and with one phone
call, I found someone there interested in buying it. It was
worth a few thousand - enough to cover the mortgage for a
couple of months and buy me more time to find clients. I
was incredibly grateful. And then I did something shocking.
I
chose to hold onto the painting instead of the house.
Of
course, I didn't see it that way at the time. I couldn't
even admit to what I was doing (or wasn't doing, as the case
may be; I never returned the connect's phone call). How could
I justify not selling item A in order to keep item B, which
was worth over 100 times as much money as stupid item A?
It was insanity.
I
sold the house in a forced sale not too long after that and
I took the painting with me to winter in Joshua Tree. I lived
on two acres in the middle of almost-nowhere in a 300 square
foot homestead cabin with cracked and peeling paint, a leaking
roof, a nonfunctional water heater (for most of my stay),
a small pot-bellied stove for heat and a Sarah Higdon on
the block wall of the living room.
Judging
Zylo
I
remember sitting inside that cabin one night, trying to stay
in the close-enough-to-stay-warm-yet-not-so-close-you-start-sweating
range of the potbellied stove while staring at Judging Venus,
wondering why the hell I kept it. Was it the message? The
humor? The composition - what?
Art
love is as irrational as human love. I loved Judging Venus
from the moment I saw it. But once you live with a painting
for a while you begin to notice its flaws. You either learn
to love the painting despite its flaws, or because of them
or perhaps, you have a falling out. Judging Venus is brash,
whimsical, political. It's also obvious. I love it anyway.
I'd
also kept a couple of Sister Corita prints (despite the fact
that I'd long since fallen out of love with their 'God is
Alive' messages) and a small Pollack (not to be confused
with a Pollock or a Pollock). They weren't worth as much
as the Higdon, but I was selling off tchotchke and pottery
at that point. I also kept pieces by friends of mine.
Why?
I don't know. All I know for certain is that I'm the type
of person who would rather live in a dilapidated 300 square
foot desert shack surrounded by art than in a clean 2,000
square foot McMansion without it.
Awakening
During
my winter in the hinterlands of Joshua Tree, a local artist,
Bret Philpot, took me on a trip to the estate of Noah Purifoy.
It was a complete awakening.
Some
of my favorite artists inspire me to find beauty where I
didn't previously know that it existed. After seeing David
Hockney's A Lawn Being Sprinkled, for example, I was awakened
to the fact that this most mundane and forgettable of events
can actually be beautiful. I've had similar experiences after
seeing works of Warhol, Lichtenstein, and Duchamp. Noah Purifoy
awakened me to the beauty of trash.
I've
always been drawn to damaged, destroyed, weathered, and abandoned
materials. I have always found beauty in decay. Maybe it
has something to do with my alcoholic/addict past or pseudo-punk
adolescence; even before visiting the Purifoy ranch I had
an old, rusted hinge hanging on my wall, right next to the
real art.' In my mind, it was art, too, but the artists were
time, the weather, circumstance, failed plans, forgotten
dreams, and plain carelessness.
I
went to Joshua Tree a collector, and returned a creator of
Trashy Pop. All of my work is made from trash - even the
paint that I use is either abandoned or from the mis-mixed
bin at Home Depot or Lowes. I find much of my material discarded
in the desert.
I’m
just a beginner; forgive me for being bold enough to actually
post pictures online. My art is currently ‘on hold,’ until
I can find a space to work in…and possibly take a
welding class or two.
Thanks
to Darien for all the good photos. (The poor ones I took
myself.)"
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Posted by zylo
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