In the middle of my latest attempt to bring my office back from chaos into order, I actually began looking at all the stuff I’ve collected. Out-of-print books, a couple of original paintings from an artist I consulted for, framed posters, a neon sign I’d been given by a friend that spells ZACH’S (the name I planned to use whenever I fantasized about opening a bar), and many deco pieces along with a fine gathering of Bakelite radios. Nice things, mostly hunted and gathered years ago.

Now I collect art. Sue collects art, but in a very different way. She looks for paintings, small sculptures, and photographs created by as-yet-unknown artists. Sue, like me, has gone through different collecting obsessions but for the most part has stuck with her holy trinity. For quite a while she also had her “junking” friends keep an eye out for different body part sculptures but that’s seem to have (no pun intended—right) petered out.

I’m different. I want the masters. I want what museums have. And I get ’em. I bring a notepad and pen whenever we visit an exhibit or gallery to write down artists’ names that I like, then return home and turn on my computer The Google is my personal art repository.

Then I collect. Some connoisseurs specialize and curate, I am eclectic with enough resources (hard drive memory) to indulge my fancies. My private gallery: my desktop image.

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes I need a calming influence so I might choose one of my Rothko’s.

 

If I’m feeling playful I spend some time with Pop Art:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometime I enjoy a dose of sophisticated irony and turn to Christian Schad:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

or jump to one of my go-tos, Max Beckmann,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and of course, Otto Dix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For politics my Mexican muralists often fill the bill: Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco, and my favorite David Alfaro Siqueiros.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many moods, many great pictures. But in truth, for me the rubber meets the road with Photorealism. Yes I enjoy Picasso and Modern, the great masters, street art, and pretty much any school that speaks to me. But give me Audrey Flack,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ralph Goings,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and especially Richard Estes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess I’m wedded to reality and it shows.

 

Okay, I can’t actually afford to buy anything by these artists, but I don’t have to. My laptop has the world’s greatest art collection and it’s free!

(Did I mention my naked celebrity folder?)

Every act of perception, is to some degree an act of creation, and every act of memory is to some degree an act of imagination. ~ Oliver Sacks