ABOUT
Making clay figures, heads,
busts, masks, and often running away to
watch and talk to a master painter at the
seaside is how I recall the beginning. Fascination
with clay was unwelcome by my Primary school
teachers and provided my first experience
with consequences for going outside the
boundaries of established curriculum or
conventional wisdom. Working in clay was
taboo, though my Primary school work was
admired. Getting caught making and hiding
clay figures under the school was my misfortune
leading to punitive action before my Primary
school body.
The master painter remains a vivid and
profound impression on me as though only
hours have passed. Recalling some details
from our encounters; black bicycle with
a finger bell and metal basket, scruffy
loose black attire, short black nappy head
and facial hair, glistening waves at the
sunny seaside with beautiful sailboats and
ships, portable easel, doing impressionist
paintings depicting the landscape while
under the shaded canopy of breadfruit and
almond trees, sun rays beaming through,
life lessons, and a two-dimensional face
lacking any features as if looking into
a black hole. My family often talked about
my being returned home by strangers, and
occasionally in baskets on their heads.
This is a glimpse into about the first six
years of my life which included Origami,
Chinese carving, map, and kite making.
Nearing the age of ten, my father recognized
my fascination with his art collection from
various corners of the globe, and gave me
my first oil painting supplies. His paintings
from France and Haiti along with crafts
from Africa were the most influential. Also,
his childhood Native American Indian artifacts,
crafts and cultural influences from India,
China, South America, and Japan made an impression.
I began with landscape and portrait paintings,
and was often called upon to participate
in school exhibits and art fairs with tempera
paintings and linoleum prints. An SAIC student
introduced me to nudes and fashion design.
Portraits of two United States Presidents
are the only remaining work done before
teen years.
I later returned to carving while in the
scouts pursuing a merit badge to become
an Eagle Scout, and carved my fisted hand
in wood. A neighboring troop member influenced
me to dye the fist black and wear it as
customary in scout arts and crafts ritual.
My hand would in time serve as a motif in
my paintings. In high school I submitted
a design for which i was honored with an
award for architecture.
Years later, when both men were in the
same hospital, my father introduced me to
a professor from our state university. Among
the many topics they discussed, one was
their hopes for my architectural future.During
my final visit, I stood daydreaming in front
of a painting outside of my father’s door.
Weeks later, I received a gift of paint
supplies. After a period of creative drought,
I did nude, still life, and landscape paintings.
With the exception of one painting I gifted
to my sister, a large number of my paintings
mysteriously disappeared, all within a matter
of days. A priest advised, avoiding or painting
by whims was not the best option. It wasn’t
long after that I painted my crowning achievement
depicting motion.
