Why a book?

posted February 6, 2008

As all good life stories seem to feel the need, I will start with how it all came about to write anything in the first place. I admit, I’m known as a big talker. Too big a talker, many would say. My father was somewhat the same but I think he had more to say about far less subjects. I have had many art shows both group and solo. At these people ask me about the meaning of various paintings. I guess all paintings have some sort of story. I seem to end up telling long stories that link together and end up wandering down some disjointed memory lane. When I see a painting, I am often asked to write the story about it and send it on to the buyer. Most of my buyers end up as patrons who keep up with my actions and often will buy more. This almost always includes my being told, “You should write a book!” All this has led over to galleries actually asking me to tell more stories of my past at openings. They say it helps people to not just understand the work but to enjoy the evening. These people must not have much of a life. So, with all this and meeting a publisher who looked over a short outline of my background and saying they would be interested in seeing more has led me here. Right now, my life is simple. I live in Columbus, Ohio, in an area called Clintonville. I have a small apartment where I also work. I make most of my income from painting but do have a small income from web site design and management. A few months ago my model became my girlfriend and moved in with me. She is 22 and very beautiful. I must have done something very right or very very wrong. She arrived with one 2-year-old cat called “Issy” and soon we added a little yellow kitten named “Persy”. She isn’t very interested in my past beyond the stories that make her laugh and allow her to call me a “dork” A term she can’t define for me. But I is one. I’m 63 years old and was born on September-11, yes, 9-11 1944 in a small town in up state NY called Watertown. The town was about 18 thousand when I was growing up but I’m told it became much smaller and more economically depressed in recent years. My mother told me that there was an earthquake when I was born and it is about the only one recorded in up state NY. Not a Mark Twain but I am staying away from any area known for earthquakes. My girlfriend’s name is, Natasha Elletra Moore. Some name, huh? She was born here in Columbus and in an inner city apartment in 85. When I try to tell her about my growing up and how different it was she is polite and listens but I don’t think I can possibly explain it. I might as well be talking about Mars. I often say to people, especially young people, I had probably one of the best growing up life possible. I was lived with my parents and my mother’s parents in a big old farmhouse just outside of town. Where I actually lived, upstairs with my parents was really a very small apartment but the whole house was our domain especially since the only bathroom was downstairs. It was an old farm but we weren’t really farmers. When I was born my grandfather better known as “Gramp” was a co owner of an ice company in town. My father didn’t get back from the Philippines until I was 18 months old. My mother never worked.