Art sustains me and keeps me connected to people & places through time.
back story:
Here we go, back into it…short story…long…
I was born on the Gold Coast of Connecticut in the most un-Gold Coast-like part - that being the city of Bridgeport. The youngest in a classic nuclear family that lived in various parts of Fairfield County. These collective towns are recognized as part of the New York City Metropolitan Area.
This outer rim of NYC is stitched into the mythos of the American Dream. I consider this area to be my true home. I have many fond memories of the time and place that was my early childhood; including the notable ties and trips to the City.
My Dad worked in finance in New York City and commuted every day on the Metro-North line to Grand Central Station. My Mom often visited the City, mostly as I recall to attend est seminars. Looking back and adding up all the positives; my family seemed on track to a good life.
We had just built a new home in a respectable zip code.
We always had two cars.
We were enrolled in the best schools.
Our future job connections were seemingly in place.
We were surrounded by loving family & friends in the neighboring towns.
However, for some reason - it all ended one night early in my kindergarten year.
I don't recall being told what was happening as it all happened quite suddenly. There were no “goodbyes” to neighbors or friends. I vividly recall my older sister and I being abruptly relocated to a Holiday Inn off exit 14 on I-89. We were subsequently transported away again but this time to a small isolated Mountain Village ski resort. Our lives would never be the same.
In this place - skiing was the only option for escape. Fortunately, I was not alone in this pursuit.
The break and separation of being whisked away to a seemingly enchanted place for that year was profound for me. Skiing Magazine described my new home as “not a place to bring children” and whose review hailed it as “Splendid Isolation”.
Personal crisis was further escalated by the timing and implosion of my parents' marriage which resulted in a messy divorce. This was compounded by being physically isolated and separated from my family in Connecticut with no schooling to keep me in check. All these events scripted a splendid recipe for a little kid to get lost into something that would effectively keep away the pain.
For me - there was no escape into the normal things like TV or books or the obvious regular kid stuff found in the suburbs. I was clearly de-railed from reality and trapped in a snow globe bubble with hardly any reception or connection to the outer world of things.
However, skiing happened to be available from 9am until 10pm every day during the season and our new home was perched on the side of the trails.
Through my writings and reflection upon that time - I’ve learned that my worldview really begins with my relationship to that village and to the Mountain itself. In the village - the priorities were skiing, finding fun, and stirring up trouble - usually in that order. Some of the benefits of running with the BV Village Gang of kids were:
having year-round access to the hotel hallways to play chase or do whatever
access to a complete video arcade/pizzeria during the season
swimming pool and unoccupied condo access during the off-season
Needless to say, I took to it and it took to me while bonding these questionable and fun-filled ideals fast to my impressionable child-self.
The Mountain taught me a lot about myself as an independent person while either wandering the woods off-season or skiing solo through potentially dangerous terrain and conditions. The Mountain was both a teacher and baby-sitter of sorts and connected me to something greater in its own way.
Within that year, the Mountain + Village had effectively filled the void from my lost life in Connecticut - but it could not heal the fracture.
At the time Freestyle or Hot Dog Skiing was the cool thing to do. Most of the kids residing in the BV village just so happened to be on the Bolton Valley Freestyle Ski Team. I knew about Freestyle from watching a lot of television in Connecticut and was therefore well aware that it had big stars, respectable sums of prize money, and allowed free artistic interpretation while not being beholden to a timing device.
My early artistic inclinations and expressions were actually presented on the slopes as performance.
Keep in mind that lots of other kids were willingly participating in this activity. This was a normal accepted thing at the time - especially in an isolated and safe space (the bullying would surface in the years to come).
There wasn’t an aerials event at that time due to insurance claim issues within the snow sports industry. The replacement for this third contest in Vermont’s AFA (Amateur Freestyle Association) circuit was something called The Free Event. It was something very special and something very time sensitive.
Much like a vaudeville style variety show revue - this event allowed the competitors to pretty much do whatever they wanted as either a solo act or in a team oriented collaboration.
This freeform creative approach to life, athletics, and its collective social dynamics bled into other aspects of daily existence and for me. I remember I particularly loved drawing as a pastime.
Drawing became another form of escape and eventually became a means for me to improve my gamesmanship by learning body mechanics of skiing tricks and discovering figurative drawing by pausing our VCR and sketching it.
During the early ‘80’s; Freestyle Skiing (no longer called Hot Dogging) - was taking steps to gain Olympic status and be “respectable”. Air quotes be damned. I went all-in on Freestyle as a career path for myself after watching the 1984 Sarajevo Winter Olympics.
What would Bill Johnson do?
The anti-establishment Alpine racer Bill Johnson won the first ever USA Gold medal in the Downhill event. What was so endearing about the guy was he had no qualms about thumbing his nose at both the Austrian elites and the machinations of the political bureaucrats in the sport.
For me and many others at the time - he was the embodiment of cool. His triumphs and actions imprinted him as the role model for me - especially after watching his made for TV movie “Going for the Gold”.
The rifts created in my life cultivated me into a hyper-focused ski monster.
During my participation as a competitor from the tail-end of the Hot Dog Era (1979) and right up to the end point of its existence as a FIS (Federation Internationale de Ski) recognized sport (2000) - I feel comfortable stating that I took everything as far as I could.
My drive to be the best was aided and abetted by my indifference to what was happening socially in my academic life. Ultimately - as I tear off the proverbial band-aids; I understand that this attitude stemmed from losing my old life in Connecticut, acquiring multiple step-parents, and frequently changing schools.
That was how I got really good/really fast in high school which quite honestly helped me cope with the worst parts of that experience.
Getting good and heeding my artistic inclinations led me to my decision to abandon the Freestyle Combined events (aerials & moguls). Like many other competitors of that time - specializing in your strongest event offered better odds in the likelihood of punching a ticket to the Olympic Games.
My strongest event is the much-maligned Ballet event and I went all in on it. Looking back, I admit that I was not the best at arriving at logical life decisions at all.
In my defense, art is a mysterious process that requires a risky leap of faith.
It was my last year of high school and shortly before the 1992 Olympics - when I qualified for the United States Freestyle Ski Team (USFST). The best thing about attaining this goal was that it happened sooner than I projected. Here is an insightful laundry list of my future goals taken from a journal entry of my teenage self:
Participate and aim to win an Olympic gold medal in either the 1998 Nagano or the 2002 Salt Lake City Games.
Retire at the latest possible moment
Manage and coach my own ski school program .
Get married and have kids and grow old.
Sounds like a solid and attainable plan considering all that I had achieved so far. A lot of other successful competitors had pulled it off. Alas, it was never meant to play out this way.
Sacrifices were made by me and my family so I could compete with the best in the world and help innovate the sport. Others will attest and I can freely admit that I was never the most talented competitor out there. What gave me an edge was my intense work ethic, focus, and creativity. The secret weapon that helped me to truly stand apart was always taking risks through my artistic merit.
I don’t have to kid myself when I know that it was not an injury or not being of caliber that ultimately dashed my dream. There were forces at work outside my control that unravelled all the hard work of me and my peers.
Pressured by the celebrated Swiss lawyer Marc Hodler - Olympic status for the Ballet event was denied by the underling cast of characters and cronies involved in the political bribery scandals of the day. Despite blips of hope with thin promises during years of a drawn-out lobbying process - my dream was literally obliterated.
The most difficult part to endure for me was losing all opportunity to teach everything I learned. This was due to the way in which the situation transpired in that time period with its social climate and lack of mass technological communication.
The skills in tumbling and methods of artististic expression in skiing were ridiculed by the industry and collectively swept under the rug as if it never happened.
My instilled sense of integrity would not allow the mishandling by political figures in control of the sport to have final say over the main thing that carried me through my life so far. No flipping way!
Basically stated, the sport and my beloved peers who participated in it were effectively ghosted.
My gut reaction to all this was to play the long game and play it hard. I made a pact with myself in my journals to keep these teachings alive and find a new purpose for them when the timing was right. The goal was to prevent it all from being lost to time. I am still playing this long game to this day.
Soon after this period - I observed that the International Olympic Committee (IOC) allowed status to everything under the sun. They effectively have control over snowboarding and many in the sport would agree that they have taken away most of the joy in it. The IOC currently has Breakdancing coming soon on the schedule and I hear that they are reviewing and considering burlesque-derived pole-dancing too. Hmmm.
My identity in skiing represented the replacement for the biggest void in my life so far. Forced retirement from skiing left an even bigger one.
Near the end of my competitive ski career and while on a year hiatus from FIS World Cup competition - I enrolled as a student at the University of Vermont. I took a drawing course on a whim and was given encouragement under professors Christine Campbell and Sean Dye to become a Studio Art Major.
Obviously, my forced retirement from freestyle was not by my choice. What particularly stings about it is that it coincided with the exact moment when I was nearing my peak as an athlete. All my creative urges and competitive fire had nowhere to go at this point. What kept me strong during my existential crisis as I finished my time as a competitive skier was my conscientious shift into directing these energies into becoming the best artist I could be
The first day of the FIS World Cup Freestyle weekend was given to the Ballet event. The downside of going first was having significantly smaller crowds. The upside was taking off-the-cuff day trips to museums in nearby cities of Europe. This was a frequent matter of importance that fed into my expanding creative inquiries while the political hopes for the sport dwindled.
I was fascinated by Da Vinci and the ancient cultures from where he learned the secrets that unlocked his creativity. The underlying structure and patterns found in nature and great art were found in studying Sacred Geometry. I spent part of my free time learning and practicing it through videos and manuals. Ultimately, it was a two week trip to Egypt during that time period that factored heavily into fusing geometry into my own personal style.
Another influential excursion came in March of 2001 as a week-long trip to study art in Paris. This one week became the prime mover in my style, technique, and motivations.
It just so happened that a worker’s strike in Paris (big surprise there) at the Louvre that week forced me to give my attention to everything else in the City of Lights.
Musee d’Orsay, Centre Pompidou, Musee Picasso, and the Pantheon were highlighted stops on the map during my stay. The artists Paul Klee, Frantisek Kupka, and Gustave Moreau all spoke to me in Paris. So much so that I could sense their presence working through me upon returning to my coffeehouse haunts and studio in Vermont.
A series of drawing exercises that I call the Geometric Formulas were definitely given to me by my journal explorations with Paulie & Frankie. My earlier practices in Sacred Geometry also fed into the process.
All together this gave me a practical foundation to be able to use with consistency and accuracy in drawing arcs, diagonals, and lines. I found that my pen or brush could readily bring order out of chaos (or chaos out of order) by following specified designated rules.
There has always been degree of wiggle room in switching modalities and rules by employing a “freestyle” approach with pen and paper.
I've been persistent in keeping journals over the years and this to me has been the real secret to building a diverse body of work. Specifically, the act of producing written or sketched journal entries would allow influences to mingle and speak to me.
The journal collection with their accumulated depth of material facilitated flexibility in tending to multiple projects over the passage of time. In avoiding the inevitable effects of burnout - I could simply step away from painting and work on writing a book or continue refining my peer to peer skiing teaching application. The reflexive nature of journaling always made it obvious to me as to when to step away from a project and come back to it.
The timing of my art education at UVM was on the cusp of integrating digital art instruction into the curriculum. The graphic design course I took at UVM consisted of old school methods of archaic processes. One year later it would be updated to embrace Photoshop and modern methods and of course taught in a way that would instill a pride in craftsmanship.
At the time and for some time - I was of the mindset of strictly being a Studio artist-painter in the manner of those who came before me. Integrity be damned - I was very competitive and single-minded and not so much interested in a digital graphic design career. I never fully embraced the possibilities of digital until later.
I strive to experience art without any cerebral predilections so as to allow the pieces or spaces to imprint their data into my conscious and/or subconscious mind.
After finishing school and eventually becoming a single dad I made yet another leap of faith that I estimated would benefit me and my family. Having experienced success with a solid run of high-end sales and a couple of small showings in exhibitions, I began my New York City residency with momentum and promise. The challenges and complexities of living in the City began to show me that managing a persistent level of output in my art would prove to be taxing.
Working in the service industry in New York City as an artist and staying consistent in my role as a single dad with designated out of state visitation times became a constant balancing act.
Rather than play the gallery game - I decided to focus on production and development of the methods I employed in order to capture my artistic voice. Obscurity, lack of peer critique, fatigue, and a diluted output were frequent obstacles to overcome in keeping my resolve in being a working NYC artist.
Another issue that became real for me was my reluctance to change my plotted course by succumbing to accepting a position that was contrary to my intended field of study. The City and the Industry had a track record of flipping many other artists towards a career of convenience. Not me.
Being open to the influence of the City along with my desire to grow by staying the course had led to a new dominant influence for me as a New York City artist. That was Andy Warhol. He changed the world through his heightened artistic awareness and will power. Commerce, design for the masses, while owning a bold artistic license were key concepts to embrace in navigating the City.
Walking the City and absorbing all the signage and window displays made me feel vital as an artist and a human.
Being a part of that place and time made me hyper-aware that art is what truly sustains me. I never truly appreciated this until I lived in New York City.
Whenever I needed a boost of creativity - I would take a day or an afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. For a few fortunate years I actually had an apartment only five blocks away and it became a constant for me.
To me - these fervent visits were like attending a church mass. It was an adventure every time and made me feel connected in the same way as the mountain did for me when skiing at high performance.
I recall having the most unbelievable experiences at the Met. One time and for only a brief moment when all the people cleared away - the architecture of the Temple of Dendur became audible to me. Weird, right?
Oftentimes, but especially if I was open to it - different pieces or collections would call out to me. Having no set agenda - I typically wended through halls of the structure randomly. This always resulted in unique experiences that I treasure to this day.
artist
My recent move to California has been amusingly questioned by some. My quick response is that while everyone is moving away from something I tend to move toward it. Kinda like moving to post 9/11 New York City turned out to be a unique and special experience for a lot of people. This is what California embodies to me at this point in time. It represents the rise and fall and rise of the American Dream.
They say it takes 10 years to become a “Made New Yorker”. I believe this to be a true statement. To me - the City is a living entity that has its own consciousness and personality with supreme power over its subjects.
The City is very particular and it doesn't let people in who don't belong there. Those it does let in are definitely on notice that they are only there on a probationary trial period.
This means the City will arrange people on the game board and insert them and you into a series of situations and emergencies that will challenge all that you know and believe about yourself.
How you react and adapt and most of all your willingness to see and accept yourself anew will determine your place in the world moving forward as part of a special collective bunch of brutally honest misfits and lovers.
The price for all this is that you don’t ever get to really leave. The City doesn't let go of its own so easily and even if you are allowed to physically leave - the City will continue to test you in ways you never imagined.
You have to earn your release and it comes with another price. The people in the world outside the City will never really get you. However, there will always be a few New Yorkers who got away wherever you go.