Traci and JR - Old City Collectors

Okay, I only have time for a quickie. Things have been hectic. But I am in the mood to tell a story. Traci and JR are some Old City Dwellers that make running an art gallery all worth the effort. Now friends as well as collectors, these guys bring awesome energy where ever they go. I am blessed to know them as friends. As collectors, they are shrewd! I can say that, right? That’s all I’m saying.

My short stay here in Old City, Philadelphia has been awesome, in part because of the remarkable people I get to meet. Everyone does not want relationship; I’ll give you all the room you want. I’ll willingly engage with those desiring discourse. Ask me about the art, I’ll share.

JR came through a few months back. We hit it off well. Things went well until we got into a fight, a verbal argument over art. We didn’t talk for two months. Acknowledging the foolishness of our tiff, we made up one day when JR was trying to hide behind a menu at a prominent neighborhood outdoor restaurant. Neither of us remembers the nature of the disagreement. Traci will tell you the problem stems from JR and I liking the same art. The bottom line, we enjoy getting together talking, selling and buying art. I doubt we’ll fight anymore.

From what I understand, JR has a remarkable collection of art, including a Warhol and a Dali. I don’t know a lot about JR, none of that stuff matters. In my mind, he is some eccentric millionaire that wanders the streets, doing whatever he wants whenever he wants. One never knows what to expect from JR. However, if you are in a jam in need of assistance, you can count on him to help. He has even helped me move 4 large truckloads of precious milled hardwoods into my shop, up in Bucks County. He’s only let me down once. I called him to have him bring me a cup of coffee to the gallery. He texted me an hour later saying he was in New York visiting a painting he had donated to an art show.

Beware of return favors. The best part of being JR’s friend is that we never know what will be asked of us in return. JR has a unique sense for fun. An avid videographer, JR develops and films eccentric themes that are part of a project, the direction of which, save for Traci, is known by him alone. On one occasion I was asked to participate, as an actor in one of his films. As all things are a mystery with JR, I am not at liberty to share the nature of my role in the video. You are going to have to wait for the release of his film.

Okay, in talking about JR and his love for film, I’ll share my favorite line from the Basquiat movie filmed by Julian Schnabel. Here’s the set up - over a plate of spaghetti, Jean Michel Basquiat is complaining about the press and how they have hit pit him against Warhol. The Julian Schnabel character, played by Gary Oldman, in response to this rant about the press, says something like …”Jean Michel, go and see Andy; you are all he cares about. And besides, it’s hard to get good conversation in this town.” It is like that with JR; not your garden variety of conversation. Time spent with JR is never boring. On the ground level he’s the consummate artist and life is his art.

The pictures show Traci and JR celebrating their latest acquisition, “Night Bathers 2, a waterfall painting, by Christopher Callahan. These young Old City Collectors know a good thing when they see it. They also bought “Making Friends” a few weeks later. The Duo, as I call them, shares my vision of supporting Philadelphia painters. They also purchased a few Ashley Flynn Paintings, back when Flynn showed in the summer.

JR will play cat and mouse with you, but in the end, he knows what he likes and wants.

JR’s got his own thing going on. Don’t see a lot of that going around; proper respect given to that. He’s about believing in what you do as the sole motivator for everything else –with no excuses. As a personal trainer, I have only known JR through a limited lens. He berated me for taking a left turn off a monster hill, on my bicycle, to shift to a lower gear. From then on there have been no left turns. No excuses. He’s demanding in his perspective and position on things, but at the same time demonstrates he knows the road ahead that will set you free.

Okay, I said this was going to be a quickie. I Gotta rap this up. It’s been real.

Guess what gang? My friends and customers are real special. No, this is not your traditional gallery. Yet, what you see is what you get; great art, great friends and fresh perspective.

Traci calls me Uncle Karl. Man, life is good.

Thanks guys. I love what you bring to the Gallery.

Diane Russo - Young Gun

Long before I was a painter, I studied photography. Despite my choice of painting, as my primary art form, my affinity for the craft of Photography has never waned. A difficult path to trod, present day fine art photographers must struggle against the overwhelming barrage of visual commercial traffic so common in our daily lives. During my Ashley Flynn show, I was introduced to world renown Philadelphia –based Zoe Strauss http://www.zoestrauss.com/oestrauss.com/ . Zoe’s work is piercing cutting through the “stuff” of the façade baring the essence of her subjects. Like pure voltage, she connects the viewer to the source of power; nothing is lost in getting the image from the lens to our eye. It is clearly understandable why Zoe is one of the industry’s hottest and most respected shooters.

Young shooter Diane Russo http://www.dianerusso.com/ got my attention this past week with a handful of striking images. Exhibiting a naïve savvy and a Straussian punch, Diane’s introspection unveils the space that resides between the simple and the complex. Garnished in nuance, Dianne’s gentle hand takes the hard edge out of vulnerability exposing the soft under belly of circumstance. These images are intimate relational gestures offering a sensitive and sensual glimpse of form and figure.

I’m taken in by the mature and developed quality of Diane’s Images. So far beyond orchestration, there exists an organic sensibility. A male viewer, caught up in a unique perspective shift, I am mindful of the totality of the female form, its sexual orientation and the dramatic difference from male musculature and genitalia. These situational vignettes lend themselves to our exploration and participation. Masterfully, Diane slices through time, halting meter, giving us palatable chunks to savor. Intrinsically, the power of the form and figure as we know it transcends the moment, becoming art in its symmetry and flow. The captured and unfolding drama begs our investigation.

If we test the work and ask “so what” – “why is this good photography?” we can quickly reconcile the value and success of the work by its ability to elicit a genuine emotional response. Repeatedly, I’ve gone back for another look. Everyone that I’ve shown the work to agrees, beyond daring, the work is insightful, sensitive and honest. Diane gets my thumbs up and Young Artist of the Week Award.

You are what you eat.

We are products of our environments. Try as we may, we cannot outrun the variables interwoven into the fabric of our character. Shaped by time, experience and events, we are tethered to the “story “of our lives. Such is the human condition that we are buffeted and bruised by unpredictable external conditions. The nuance of our stories, while the flavor of individualism, divide us into groups of similar ilk. Many of these distinctions are governed by race, sex and the age we are born into history. We talk of people as products of an era; the 70s, 60s, from the “baby boomer” generation. Ascribing values based on specific characteristics of an era, helps us to understand individual perspective.

At every turn, we are gathering data, trying to make sense out it all. Element by element we dissect life’s minutia, breaking down the whole into bite size chunks; synthesizing processed data into new perspective and beliefs. Our imprinted beliefs, perspective and personal codes are largely based on demographics and economics; our social, educational and cultural orientation. Long has been the debate of nature vs. nurture; so many contradictions are wrapped up in the flesh. These are but a few of the controlling strings of the puppet artist that wield the brush. Our response, as artists, to the story of our lives becomes the flavor and power of our art. Stroke by stroke we pour out the by product, the purified solid matter of our experience. Anna Belle Loeb, true to this formula, paints her way free of life’s inequitable entanglements.

A product of the 40’s, reared on the heels of a recovering post depression economy; Anna Belle was born into an era of upheaval and unrest. A teen ager, Anna Belle was an eye witness to the integration of Little Rock Central High School, in Little Rock, Arkansas; she was in New Orleans when Kennedy was shot. Anna Belle Loeb, a white Southerner, whose youth was tainted by ugliness of segregation, has lived to see a Black man voted into the Presidency of the United States. She has seen a lot. Trained in ethics, a lawyer turned painter, Anna Belle’s art plays out years of anguish, resistance and dedication as a social and political activist. Wanting the wrongs of history righted, calling out for equity, justice and truth, she paints away at the dross of life exposing the limitless possibilities that come with freedom.

Painting the moment, documenting events, she is a chronicler - a present day Griot, a title normally reserved and ascribed to an African Tribal storyteller, always a man. The Griot's role was to preserve the genealogies and oral traditions of the tribe. Anna Belle’s paintings, like pages of time, are set apart as documents and declarations; parchments. A voracious reader, Loeb’s bold colorful in your face artistic world is oftentimes driven by words. Her most recent show, “Rabbit Years,” held at the Pagus Gallery, in Norristown, PA was dedicated to famous Pennsylvania born, American novelist/poet John Updike. She too is a poet with a brush.

Tim Hawkesworth, Loeb’s teacher and mentor, says of her paintings; “Anna Belle is a Southerner and her art flows from a Southern consciousness. It is quick, Laconic, comedic and tragic. It does not stand still. It is full of contradictions and the complexity of good conversation. They have the bite of graffiti and the ferocity of an uncompromised stare. They are street tough and sharp. While they seduce and engage our senses they can at times tear at our consciousness. They can break our hearts.”

Laser sharp is her scapel, slicing through bone and marrow. Titles including The Disappearing White Guy, Mudslide of Politics, Big Bucks, Thou Shalt not break my Heart, Inherit the Wind, affirm the intensity of her message. Visually, with an equaled tenacity, she wields an assertive brush. She is not timid. The paintings by nature are edgy screaming with texture, bright color and raw energy; having weighty souls. Yet, in all this there are significant contradictions. Anna Belle is not just all bite, her paintings - Cry Baby, Ochre lambs, young woman and Rabbit in the Hat tell us otherwise. A counter-balancing compassion metes out hope and love for her neighbor. We are caught up in the story of her craft. She gets inside and breaks down our barriers.

Reviewed on Friday, May 15, 2009, by Victoria Donohoe, of the Philadelphia inquirer, Rabbit Years, Loeb’s maiden voyage, got noticeable attention:
http://www.philly.com/inquirer/local/pa/chester/20090515__Group_of_two__exhibit_together.html?text=reg&c=yc=y
“Although some contain recognizable images, they're more about the feeling in each that's experienced at some remove from nature, yet not really removed from it. Thus, they draw us in and carry us along, the best examples being authentically civilized experiences.”

Beyond all the rest, Anna Belle is a painter; loving discovery in the Studio, liking the paint as well as the medium. The paintings stand on their own; emotional and honest; a dynamic and pivotal pure body of work with significant historical significance. As the viewer, we are moved in and out of her soulful vignettes, a quick pace poking at us, the painting is assertive. Raw and intriguing, bold in their progressiveness, the paintings demand acknowledgement. Protesting as when she was an adolescent, the paintings march on the Washington DCs of our hearts crying out “Let freedom ring from every village and every hamlet...” She is masterful in her naiveté at getting us back to ground zero. She is relentless. She is a preacher.

Anna Belle Loeb

She’s got a lot on her Mind

6 November thru 30 November ‘09

Once is not enough!

There are costs associated with being successful; the demands on our time and talents escalate exponentially. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not complaining. It is great being in demand and acknowledged. Right about now, though, I’m thinking about the benefits of cloning. By the way, where are we in the debate to legitimize cloning?

It’s nice to believe that if we put something in we’ll get something back out; the larger the deposit the greater potential for a larger withdrawal. Teaching this concept to my daughter was a difficult task. “Daddy, if you don’t have any money, just go to the MAC machine and get some.” We all know there is so much more to the “deposit-withdrawal” equation. How we go about getting “it” so we can deposit “it” is truly what’s at issue here. Fundamentally, we must all ask, from whence commeth the substance of our deposits? Dealing art is risky; no risk-no reward. High risk - high yield.

The Knapp Gallery’s investment in Christopher Callahan is paying off with large dividends. Am I saying that taking on Chris Callahan was risky? No, but holding to my overall platform of supporting and promoting Philadelphia artists is. While, my competitors continue to show painters from New York, London and around the world, relying on an address to promote sales, I’m committed to my mission of promoting emerging Philadelphia talent; kudos by the way to Richard Rosenfeld, of The Rosenfeld Gallery who has a great show up by Philadelphia artist Richard Ranck, a Philadelphia Academy graduate. As a cog in a seemingly broken wheel, I’m paying my dues into resurrecting a worthy machine; a sustainable Philadelphia Art Community.

A nagging voice says “if you build it they will come.” And building we are. Suring up the old and laying new foundation, we a readying for a new improved edifice. In response to this visible effort, The Knapp Gallery has been written up by The Broad Street Review:

http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/main/article/christopher_callahans_and_the_barnes_legacy

In my mind, however, this is but a taste of success. I am rarely satisfied, wanting so much more for my painters and Philadelphia. There are varying degrees of success. As a result, measuring success gets a bit tricky. Empirical data, the stuff one can count, beyond sales, the calls (both from in and out of state), queries, requests for additional information, is what I’m really talking about. The Callahan show has caused lot’s of buzz; so much so that we are extending the Callahan exhibit through October 31st. We will however be swapping out the remainder of the current show with an extensive look at his impressionistic work.

It is becoming readily apparent; I am not alone in my efforts to create awareness of the latent wealth found in Philadelphia’s art history and present day remnant. Known as the countries’ largest mural arts program, in my mind, diminishes the collective value of Philadelphia’s vast “high-end” art resources. Recently asked by a friend, from New York, "Why would the culture vultures turn their gaze to Philadelphia?" I’m compelled to respond; only briefly though. For starters, The Barnes Foundation, considered by many as the world’s greatest private collection of French impressionism and post-impressionism works, affords Philadelphia a significant place of notoriety. Beyond “the collection,” though lacking formal accreditation, the decades of Barnesian teaching distinguishes Philadelphia as a cultural center.

The truth be told, I’m not surprised by the overwhelming response to the Callahan exhibit. The stars were aligned; timing is everything. I stepped out on faith and followed up with my best efforts. Increased traffic and visibility necessitates a commensurate response. To accommodate the increased weekend “traffic”, Chris set up his easel and has been painting here at the gallery. The authenticity of Callahan’s art bolsters his resolve and creativity before an audience. He is neither intimidated nor is his stream of consciousness interrupted; he actually enjoys the conversation.

Looking around, I see a plethora of acknowledgeable work; it is not so simple isolating our mission from the hard and fast reality of making the rent. Fortunately, The Knapp Gallery owners share my vision of contributing towards a sustainable Philadelphia Art Community.

VIP King Confirms Callahan Collection

All good things come to those that wait. A VIP visit from Nicholas King, former Executive Director of the Philadelphia based Barnes Foundation, validates The Knapp Gallery’s collection of Christopher Callahan’s paintings. The Barnes Foundation collection, considered by many as the world’s foremost private collection of impressionist and post impressionist paintings, includes 180 Renoirs, 69 Cezannes, 60 Matisses and 44 Picassos.

In the mid 70s, at the early age of 21, Callahan began working at the Barnes Foundation in a custodial capacity under Nicholas King, then Superintendent. Soon recognized as an artistic prodigy, Callahan became the protégé of now deceased and infamous former foundation Director, Violette de Mazia. During the mid nineties, after the death of Miss de Mazia, King having been appointed to the Directorship called Christopher back to the foundation as a docent lecturer! The extensive history/story of the Callahan - King - Barnes Foundation troika is book worthy. The overall influence of this history rings true throughout Callahan’s extensive body of work.

Having known Callahan in varied capacities, it’s been 10 years since Nicholas King has seen Christopher’s paintings. Thrilled at the direction and progression of Callahan’s work, King keenly isolated Chris’ most recent work. “This must be Chris’s latest work,” pointing to the lone untitled painting hanging on the back wall of the gallery. “It’s a thrill to see where he’s come in the past ten years.”

I’ve suggested a reunion between the two and asked if the gallery could facilitate. Before leaving, King signed the register; “Chris, very very proud of your work. Congratulation! “

Christopher Callahan’s paintings will hang until September 27th.

All Guns Down

There is still talk of revolution. Each generation puts their twist on it. Ernesto and Gabrielle, present day road warriors remind us there is a lot more going on at street level than just exercising one’s right to free enterprise.

I first noticed him across the street on First Friday. He and his partner were selling jewelry out of their Ford Escort wagon. His chiseled Peruvian facial features and tussled black mane stood out amidst the crowd. Beyond that, my sixth sense detected more going on than what appeared on the surface. I watched a bit then went over to investigate. There were a few velvet covered boards of handcrafted earrings, necklaces, anklets and bracelets - unique stuff - marketable. Many stopped. They both worked on new designs as I poked around. I listened and watched. There was something refreshing about how they worked together. Amidst my second divorce, I’m sensitive to such things, wanting to experience the same for myself. They shared ideas on their designs pointing intimately to the others’ current work. With deftness, each wielded jeweler’s pliers.

I told them I worked across the street in the art gallery. We talked a bit about opportunity, free enterprise, and responsibility as citizens. Clearly, Ernesto liked that I engaged him. Excitedly, he preached of love, equality, a fair wage for a day’s work, collectivism. From Montreal, they were proponents of socialized medicine. We debated the pros and cons of capitalism, citizenship, misuse of power and our depraved nature as Homo sapiens. Ernesto was big on honesty and loyalty amongst brothers and lashed out at man’s propensity to abrogate their role in collective responsibility. Gabrielle came to life passionately espousing her position on a green economy; Pacha Mama – Mother Earth having only limited resources to sustain the creation.

Unencumbered by concern for means, living day to day out of their car, bending wire into jewelry, Ernesto and Gabrielle travel city to city. I could appreciate their journey, knowing myself the rigors of the road. If by chance you have forgotten what freedom looked like, this pair was art in action; walking art. I had been right; there was something about this guy and his gal. They were revolutionaries, itinerants preaching peace, unity and One Love.

Back in the gallery, I laughed to myself, thinking back on my days of radicalism. I didn’t realize how much I missed engaging at that level, being in that conversation. I was still hungry, I wanted more. I went back across the street and offered to make them dinner; they would think about it. An hour later Ernesto came back to see if the invite was for real; I prepared simple faire – fresh greens, red snapper over a Chinese noodles, seared broccoli florets with balsamic vinegar. Interestingly, as a young boy, even as an adult, I was often reprimanded for bringing strangers home for dinner. There is something about feeding the hungry. I once brought a homeless man home named Al Joseph Trueblood, an ex-felon. He stayed with me and my family for a week. My first wife, Valerie, was none too happy with this arrangement; our children were young, 3 and 5. My actions were considered reckless.

At 10:30, it became clear that it was too late to send the dynamic duo back out into the streets. I told them to spend the night in my bed. Gabrielle nearly cried out of joy. We talked well into the morning. Eventually the conversation turned to Communism. Ernesto was determined to convince me of what he considered the true meaning and ideal behind a communistic society. “Americans are brainwashed. True communism, the communism preached by che’Guevara, from the Cuban Revolution benefits us all. There is enough for all.” Passionately, as if life and the world depended on it, back and forth, like a tennis match, baseline to baseline, forehand to backhand, we voiced our positions; neither willing to let the other gain an inch. Gabrielle stretched across the bed enjoying the banter and the comfort of a dwelling.

Ernesto was an Idealist and I told him so. I reminded him of how many messengers of this same message had been killed. He didn’t bat an eye. “You can’t kill an idea! They can kill me, but my message will live on. They killed Malcolm X, Martin, Lennon and the Kennedy’s but their messages and ideals live on. I’m not afraid to die. I’m about peace and love. Love God above all things first and love your brothers and neighbors as you would love yourself.” And then he would raise his peace sign, always the peace sign.

The love between Ernesto and Gabrielle was clear. They wore each other like familiar garments. I envisioned them dying in each others’ arms, riddled with bullets having been hunted down by fundamentalist right wingers. I warned Ernesto that the American Capitalist would never lay down his weapon of choice. “We have exhausted our time of choice. The last minute comes soon! Like the spark of the revolution chasing after the powder, an awakening comes amidst the explosion. All will see that we must be one or we will perish as humankind; no unity - no life.” Like water over a waterfall, the oil of Ernesto’s poetry flowed never ending. I warned Gabrielle; against such charisma she was powerless. She only smiled that Gabrielle smile.

And then, in an instant, the light bulb of clarity shone brightly. I heard my own words – “lay down his weapon of choice.” Off and on, throughout the day and evening, I had wondered why these two had shown up, for what purpose had my Creator sent them across my path? I had only to be patient and remain open. It was clear; the appearance of Ernesto and Gabrielle was a reminder of what’s real and what’s not. Love and life is real. Choice is real. Art is real!

Back in February, Jon Eckel and I showed 23 paintings, in Princeton, New Jersey. Painted jointly as a collaboration, the body of work entitled All Guns Down, touted a message not too dissimilar from the one preached by che’Ernesto. Jon and I were convinced, we need only lay aside our weapons of defense, our selfishness, self interests, self indulgence and we could paint an epic body of work. This doctrine holds true across the board, in all venues, from government through to our personal relationships. Prioritizing a mutually beneficial goal, seeking the best interest of another and putting all available resources behind your efforts are paramount to a successful equation. Like the notion of equality, unity and oneness preached by che’Ernesto, All Guns Down, requires of humankind a higher way of being.

In October ’09 Jon moved temporarily from Philadelphia to Princeton. We had been given the use of a monster house to live in, with a carriage house in the back that served as our studio. For 3 1/2 months, we painted night and day; some days 14 and 16 hours. Throwing caution to the wind, we challenged ourselves to a higher order, painting beyond our comfort zones desiring a third emerging signature from our divergent painting styles; Jon a figurist - myself an abstractionist. We were two very different cats with a similar goal - wanting desperately to get to the finish line; like our very lives depended on it. That was the goal. Twenty three paintings later, we set our brushes down. When the dust settled, we knew we had stumbled on a truth: Prioritize the goal, set aside the differences and all things are possible.

In our collaboration exercise bridging generation and culture, we overcame age differences, ethnicity, differences in religion and demographics. Jon is a trained painter graduating from Tyler School of Art, myself an untrained outsider artist. Trusting the others commitment to the task, believing in all that is good, we were able to overcome the stumbling blocks that have historically shipwrecked the best altruistic efforts. There are no safety nets, no excuses and no short cuts, just the task at hand. There must be a point where our beliefs and convictions fuel the intent and purpose behind our actions. What are you willing to lay down for the greater good?

“The paintings writhe with vibrant jolts of color, line, texture, and bold restive figures. Intimate and provocative themes are by turns poignant, comical, dark and mysterious. Despite strong content and an “in your face” palette, the imagery is approachable and inviting. Musically, the paintings strike a complex, soulful and “saxy” note; with an aggressive tenor and persistent “bottom.” Overcoming initial concerns of clashing independent styles, melding form and abstraction, a confident and resolute harmony prevails; the two painters have become one in these paintings” Ebet Dudley, Writer-Critic


Click the link to see the remaining paintings http://www.knappgallery.com/artists-eckel-slocum.php

Christopher Callahan - For such a time as this

The Knapp Gallery is excited about introducing Christopher Callahan in his first solo exhibition this coming “First Friday” Sept ’09.


We always hear about somebody who was in the right place at the right time, made the right investment and the story of their remarkable find. Every time we hear one of these stories we say “why doesn’t that happen to me” or “that not’s real.” Well, in my mind, I’m about to tell one of those stories. As my grandfather, Osceola Slocum, would have said, “Christopher Callahan is the real McCoy.” Well acquainted with good painters, I represent a couple of phenom artists that I believe will be recognized down through the corridor of time, namely Tom Brady and Jon Eckel. Today, this story is about Christopher Callahan, a painter from Narberth, PA. Beyond believing right place-right time, I believe I was meant/sent to be in a particular place at an appointed time.

It was a few months ago, I had closed the gallery. The door was locked. I was turning away with my bike, heading home. “Are you closed for the day?” a voice asked. “I’ve brought a friend downtown to see you. He has had a bit of a rough time and I’m trying to get him to engage.” Chris stood off to the side and was holding a book. From where I was standing, I could see the title said Christopher Callahan. I asked him if that was him. Nonchalantly, he said “yes.” I leaned my bike against the building, walked over and took the book out of his hands, flipped through about twenty pages and realized we needed to go back into the gallery and sit down.

Back inside, sitting at my desk, Chris shared about what he’d been going through. The loss of his stepson Asher had devastated him. Depressed and not painting, a friend’s love had bought him back out into the streets. I asked about his book, if he had brought it for me. “Oh no, this is the only copy. My sister had this book made for me as a Christmas present; she has always supported me in my painting.” I replied that knew a similar love of a sister. I became overwhelmed thinking back on my sister’s support. Tears welled up and ran down my cheeks. Chris responded in kind. It was in that moment that my relationship with Chris was sealed.

Looking more closely at the book it became clear that Callahan was the genuine article, a painter’s painter. His work showed a maturity, exacted remarkable freedom yet with a definitive direction. He evidenced diversity, painting form, figure and abstraction. Further subdivisions of his work included folk art, impressionism, and structuralism; I asked him what his plans and goals were. I asked him if I could visit him at his studio and see his work. Surprisingly, he said he would like that. A week later I called and we set a date and time.

Arriving at his home in Narberth, it was evident that Chris was in much better spirits. He was excited at having someone come to see him and his work; outside of family and a few select friends, I was a first. Inside his studio, on a table close by his easel, I saw a bible. Sharing our love for our Creator, we prayed, cried and thanked God for his presence and guidance. “I knew God would show up and reveal the right guy that I could trust to represent my work.” We agreed that our meeting was fortuitous and towards a greater end; not just for the two of us. I spent 5 hours looking at work and barely made a dent. “Karl, at the rate you’re going it will take a week to get through all the work!” Despite a second visit, I still haven’t gotten through all the work.

Christopher Callahan, 56, has been painting and drawing for nearly thirty-five years. Different than most painters, lacking trust in galleries and dealers, he has not sought representation. With the exception of his paintings posted on Flickr, he has never shown his work. A tradesman, Chris, has supported himself as a carpenter and electrician’s helper. He is a pensive man; economical with his words. Despite a soft spoken persona, Chris has a profound and settled presence. He talks little of his work believing good art should stand on its own, that a painter's experience is separate from the viewer. “What they walk away with is for them, my words shouldn’t influence their experience.”