One of my most true passions is to surround myself with great art. Lately, I’ve been doing just that. In fact, because I’ve spent the last several months providing art for corporate clients with prestigious Manhattan addresses, I’ve been totally immersed.
I’ve been prowling through galleries, searching online, ferreting out emerging talent, and getting to know gifted artists I had only recently come to admire. Even riding on the Long Island Railroad, I’ve seen creativity flourish in the graffitied walls alongside equipment yards and railroad tracks. (Pic #2)
But still — until last Monday — I was feeling unfulfilled. Like the line from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner: “Water, Water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” I realized I needed to paint. Something. Anything. NOW. So here we go: a sketch I made in the bathroom of my New York hotel (Pic #1) and a photo I quickly took (angry about the dirty window) on a hustling commuter train last week. (Pic#3)
My inner critic could spend a month telling you what’s wrong with these hasty little pieces, while my inner-child could spend a lifetime telling you what’s right about it. John Lennon had it right: “If art were to redeem man, it could do so only by saving him from the seriousness of life, and restoring him to an unexpected boyishness.”