My Ego
When did you first feel the urge to paint bums on sidewalks?
The seed of the idea was planted at one of the moonlight jobs I did in the past. It was an art gallery catering to tourists at South Street Seaport, in New York. It didn't pay much, but it was good experience, and I enjoyed talking to the customers. Mixed-in with the bland works-of-art sold in the store was one item which obviously did not fit. In a selection of assorted prints and drawings depicting popular sightseeing places in New York City, was a charcoal sketch of a vagrant picking through a garbage can. I thought it didn't belong in the gallery at all, much less with scenes of New York City. It was an item which, I assumed, no one would even touch. It came as a shock when, on a day I was at work, it was bought by a couple from England visiting New York! They thought it was a great "find." I thought to myself this is what a true connoisseur looks like. I took it for an omen that I had been arrogant when, in fact, I was but a store clerk, and not an arbiter of taste in art. As a gratuity, it suggested to me possibilities for art. It was a moment I will never forget. It induced a long, deep search of conscience, both concerning social relations, as well as my own artistic aspirations.