Putting our best foot forward

Necessity is the mother of invention. Who said that? Props to that cat. We do the best we can with what we have in the moment.

Feedback is a wonderful thing. Well, that’s if you care what others think, believe or care about. Feedback isn’t always about us. Through what others say about us, in their feedback, they are affirming who they are, their needs, that which is important to them. Translating feedback is a developed artform of mine. Dialogue is costly. It is the exception not the norm. Everybody that comes through the door of the gallery does not want to engage. Rare is the opportunity of being fully engaged with a “Walk-in”. Most of my conversations are with artists. Weekend walk-ins are different though. During the week, it’s a bit tougher to get with someone about the art.

When everything is right, when we meet someone that wants engage, there is perfection in the conversation; sharing how the painted image affects us. Rarely do I run into an enthusiasm level equal to my own. That’s okay. I know my place. I love when a visitor lets me run, like a rider giving the horse its head and letting him run flat out. On Saturday, I ran into a decent cat that was about the art.

He comes in with a friend and likes what he sees. “Do you have more?” he asks? Yes, I have more. Down in the basement he’s excited about being near the inventory. I can appreciate that. I am an inventory guy myself. I give him an impromptu show, pulling out paintings by the different artists I represent: Brady, Eckel , Callahan, Pappallas, Silvert, E.F. Halbert, Oechsli, Farrell… When we get to the paintings from Jon Eckel’s most recent show, he’s plugged in. Initially he had been looking for a Trip-tik; a three paneled painting. One by one I pulled out Jon’s last show. Quickly, I ran out of room downstairs and begin bringing them up into the Gallery. After adding eight 48” x 60” paintings into the gallery, things got a bit crowded, but we enjoyed a maze of sorts that was created; walking through the paintings standing on end had an eerie but enjoyable sensation to it.

The guy says he thrilled at my engagement. Said he hadn’t gotten similar hospitality in other galleries before making it to Knapp that day. Needless to say, I have mixed feelings about this comment.

So, collectively, as a group of Old City galleries, our joint report card, for that individual, was below par. A fast paced and bizarre ‘010 lifestyle doesn’t afford us many opportunities to build lasting relationships. Truth be known, art is about relationship. I’m just saying. Times are hard enough without having to fend off a bad "rep" to boot. We might want to put our best foot forward, engage and develop relationship within the community? The Art Community, a sub category within the community at large, provides a significant service. We are the vehicle through which culture is maintained; the portal through which your neighbor keeps rhythm with life. Today, I did not sell a painting. However, I did engage and hopefully planted the seeds of a lasting relationship, while possibly changing one person’s tainted perspective of “Old City” galleries.

My Brother's Brushes

The reality is death affects the living. My Brother Michael’s death from AIDS turned my life upside down. Like the first mark of an epic painting, I can trace my beginnings to a single significant event. While he was yet living, Michael gave me his paint brushes. Those brushes, Isabey-Specials, 6086, 6087 and 6088 made in France have long since been retired. Though I am still an Isabey patron, I have my own brushes now. Michael’s brushes served their purpose; his death was not in vain.

Lots of ground has been covered on the way to the Director’s chair. On the job training flavored with multiple side dishes of miracles might best describe my diet along the way. If predestination and providence co-exist, know that I have tasted of their fruit. Untrained as a painter, a divine hand has guided me through the darkness out into the light. To many, even to me, it’s a mystery how I’ve come to sit in the Director’s chair of a prominent Philadelphia Art Gallery.

Michael’s art was different than mine. He painted form and figure while I cut my teeth on abstraction. Finding voice apart from my brother’s was paramount to my journey. Yet in this exploration I found comfort knowing we had both trodden a similar path. Over time my “found” voice has been massaged, tempered and flavored with lots of help from others sent across my path. Interestingly, much of that voice was cultured long before I began my tenure as a painter.

Back in Bethel, Connecticut, I grew up around photography. My father did work with Edward Steichen. In the late seventies, in Piscataway, New Jersey, I studied photography under Nathan Farb http://www.nathanfarb.com/. Spot toning print blemishes in his “Russians” series taught me about attention to detail. And while I was still taking pictures in the mid to late eighties, in Trenton, New Jersey, I met Matt Baumgardner a magnificent painter on his way to the “show” in New York http://www.baumgardnerart.com/.

Unbeknownst to me, my friendship and relationship with Matt was nurturing a definitive painting voice as Michael’s heroic bout with HIV/AIDS was ushering him to the afterlife. Interestingly, Michael, on a final visit from New York to my Trenton home, got to meet Matt in his studio just across the street. Unlimited time in Matt’s studio, watching him paint and talking about his craft would pay multiple dividends. Looking back it becomes clear, by the time Michael’s brushes made it into my hands the underpinnings of a new career path had been set.