...and That's How Seagull Shit Wound Up On Alpha Centari Painting

I was always haunted by The American Dream that loomed elusive, reserved seemingly for others. Growing up in rural Nebraska is like having the cheat codes and you still can't win because you don't have enough tokens. I grew up on the middle of the farm crises in a troubled community rife with alcoholism and abuse where I was brutally bullied and physically assaulted daily at school. Against this backdrop, my early love for painting and drawing emerged as a lifeline. Watercolors were my preferred medium when I was young and spoke a language that transcended the hardships of the shit reality of where I lived. A self-taught artist, I didn't seriously delve into painting until I turned fifty. Prior pursuits led me down varied paths – several failed marriages, a useless Master's degree in Literature, a couple of unpublished books, roles in low-budget horror films, and eventually a soul crushing series of jobs as a web developer that provided a modest but often unsteady income. After the turn of the century one such soul crushing job lead me to Houston. The roots of my artistic journey delve into a Houston saturated with student loan debt, ironically leading to the exploration of renowned and free museums like the Menil and the Rothko Chapel. The Menil in particular lead to an immersion into the works of surrealists like Magritte and Ernst, the pop art of Warhol and Basquiat, and the impactful American collections. This informal education, akin to a free graduate degree in American art, percolated within me for two decades before I dared pick up a paintbrush. The catalyst for my return to painting was a traumatic encounter with law enforcement – a gun pulled on me by a police officer. The canvas became my sanctuary from PTSD, a thread connecting me to sanity in a turbulent period. Physical therapy after a severe bicycle accident in Colorado became financially untenable, prompting my return to the artistic realm. From color field abstract expressionism reminiscent of Rothko to magical realism inspired by Beksiński and hints of pop-art à la Lichtenstein, my work defies conventions. This eclectic mix, blended with landscapes from Bob Ross ultimately coalesces into what I term 'Americana'. The asking prices for my artwork may seem unrealistic for an unknown artist, a self-proclaimed outsider. Yet, understand that these prices are deliberate, a reflection of my desire to keep the originals - I'm really only interested in selling prints of my work.