How Not to Get into a Gallery

I don’t think I was quite 20 years old when I “hit the pavement.” I had no clue as to how to get into a gallery. Completely ignorant, I walked all over Los Angeles to each gallery, door to door, annoying everyone in my path.

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Animal, Mineral, Vegatable

I’ve always had a hard time fitting into boxes. Am I an abstract expressionist painter? Not quite and not consistently. Am I in the category of the Outsider artist or a self-taught artist? Not really. Neither of those titles describes art. They more or less describe an artist’s story. I’ve come to learn those are useless terms. 

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Words and Art and Thoughts and Stuff

The other day I got a really great review posted on Amazon from writer Peter Clothier. I was going to quote some parts of it, which I will for promotion sake, but for the love of god and the sake of my blog, I had to post it here in full:

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People Get Ready: SATURDAY IS NEAR!

Yesterday, after spending Monday and Tuesday prepping, wrapping, and packing up my work into two cars, Michael and I drove through the the famous Los Angeles traffic into Santa Monica: the extreme East Side to the West, 14 paintings on canvas in my car, and 15 framed drawings in his.

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