FOR YEARS I HAVE BEEN REGARDED AS A FREAK to the art community. I have faced every kind of smear and rejection imaginable. I have endured years toiling away in obscurity and poverty while abstract painters and modernists in general—those who are identified as untalented--have had every honor and recognition showered upon them. Yes, it was their lack of talent that was being recognized and celebrated. Men, who would have otherwise happily employed me, have rejected me upon learning that I have been severely criticized by the art guardians---the self-appointed elitists.
I have seen commissions vanish that properly should have been mine, but was instead handed to the untalented in the name of ‘open-mindedness.’ Does this make me angry? Sure. Of course. What are my views on abstract and representational painting? I loath art that is all technique and no emotion. I don’t care for representationalism if nothing is really being represented but masterly technique. And I loathe purported art that is all emotion where nothing is represented to carry the emotion, and that is devoid, arguably, of any real technique. I have been vocal about my views. Naturally, I have been criticized as being “closed-minded” and too dogmatically wedded to the so-called "stale paradigms of traditional art"--whatever the fuck that means.
I have, in the minds of some, committed a sin against the Holy Ghost: I have failed to see the legitimacy and value of modernist and postmodernist art. I have failed to conform to the dictates to the established vanguard. This is, perhaps, where I came into trouble. Newton had taught us that for every action there is an equal opposite reaction, so it could be argued that the enormity of the establishment’s hysterical animosity toward me had its own logic. I have paid price for the sins I have committed against the established order we see in the art world today: I have been relegated to the bottom of the food chain as caricaturing doodling plankton. Cruel is the society to those who do not bow down to its freakish fetishes.Today, however, critics fall over each other lavishing my art with praise---now that the upper echelons of the art community have officially endorsed me. Ever since the art guardians bestowed their canned odes to me, I have become a Toronto celebrity of sorts. It’s now fashionable to heap flattering adjectives and accolades upon me. I’m the new fad. This damn culture! Man, I need to ask myself as an artist: is it ridiculous or brilliant, beautiful or ugly? I now realize that it is all of these things!
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I have always thrived on ambivalence and complexity, and I believe that ambivalence and complexity is reflected in my art. In my art, I am praising popular culture while simultaneously ridiculing it. Is it any wonder that I speak of so-called ‘the dark side of caricature’ and the ‘light side of caricature? Talk about complex and perhaps contradictory.
There are many who sum up my work as being nothing other than ennui, a permanent sneer, a contemptuous dismissal of idealism—but they don’t realize that it is really outraged idealism. This is - at once - dark and light. Our culture is a vast Cecil B. Demille portrait, a grotesque tragicomedy, as it is a heroic drama. It is brilliant as it is bizarre! The fractions of an inspired and insipid culture are scattered all about like a shattered mirror: some of the fragments reflect a beautiful glitter, but most of it will cut you. It is this mixture that you will see in my paintings and drawings. Like a culture, a personality can be complex and it can even contain contradictory elements. I do think my art is a reflection of my own contradictory personality. As there are degrees of visual acuity, so there are degrees of awareness: I have an active mind intent on understanding the world and the people in it. I am prepared to summon every conscious resource that will enable me to grasp the things of my concern. Part of what makes art ‘good’ is the artist’s skill at capturing his worldview and “essential concerns” in his art. A work of art embodies a viewpoint about human nature and humankind’s place in the world. There is a 'point of view' in my art. My caricatures cannot come out beautifully detached; they must be charged with fear, horror, anger, humor, and irreverence. They are also inspired by love, passion and good-natured humor.
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It is believed that the art of any period is a faithful mirror of that culture’s philosophy. So when you see some of the monstrous and grotesque caricatures I create—the composite picture that emerges is merely a microcosm of our culture. In view of the responses I have received, my effort to achieve a highly stylized representation has succeeded with flying colors. I am confirmed in my conclusions about popular culture. I find that there are scores of people who agree with my artistic interpretation and who share my sense of humor. They have exercised their own independent judgment and saw the merit of my work. The critics and media commentators, juggling its shrill adjectives like a movie review of the latest blockbuster movie---‘daring,’ ‘hilarious,’ ‘brilliant” ‘spectacular’---among other ballyhoo---have done nothing. Their praise means nothing to me whatsoever.
An artist friend of mine once said: “love the artist, for he gives you his soul”. Truer words have never been spoken. Sadly, they were spoken as a bromide to people who did not understand their profundity. Yes, I have given my soul---contradictory as it is. I have satirized this culture and made a mockery of it. I have reflected in caricature what I considered to be frightfully bizarre and inverted. Yes, I have done all of these things, but I have nonetheless paid the culture a homage. Still, I know just how ridiculous and nihilistic this culture can be. I'm torn! I have underestimated the degree of insanity people are capable of. Now I don't. I look at the state of the culture, at the state of modern art, and I feel as if I have landed on a truly bizarre planet. It is this angst (and my attempt to laugh with a heart of healthy mirth) that will always find itself in everything where my art is concerned. Am I preachy and condescending? No, I want to be honest. Could I ever be a "monolithic unchanging singular artist"--to quote another artist. No, never. Is art a spiritual autobiography—as that one artist has coined the term. And I applaud that designation.
This artist said once: "I recognize that I am at times confused, lost, chaotic--that my world and my self can be mysterious to me--and that out of these apparently negative states, artistic riches can be forged"
He spoke right to my heart.
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