first half of the book for free as

The artwork associated with the following true story can be seen
in the color pages on the other side of this book.
Twelve Months to Fame and Fortune in the Art World
( The Story )
Dedication
To my wife Pilar. I met her on a beach in Spain 12 years ago and
had a terrible time getting her to notice me. She was so dignified. Now we have three kids. Meeting her was the luckiest
event of my life.
Contents
Introduction ..................................................................1
Chapter 1
Ron and Maxine .........................................................6
Chapter 2
Garbage on the Roof .............................................22
Chapter 3
Knowledge and Naiveté.............................................38
Chapter 4
Price Tags ..................................................................54
Chapter 5
Empire........................................................................68
Chapter 6
The Work..................................................................118
Chapter 7
Dried Poultry Waste.................................................168
Chapter 8
Trapped and Drowning ............................................188
Chapter 9
Getting Into a Gallery...............................................206
Chapter 10 New York..................................................................238
Chapter 11 The “A List”..............................................................284
Chapter 12 Kinkade – The Painter of Light ..............................304
Chapter 13 Writing This Book ....................................................336
Chapter 14 My First Sale............................................................366
Appendix .................................................................382
Epilogue ..................................................................420
Acknowledgments..................................................422
(opposite: Stacy Barr from Chiaroscuro Gallery strategizing at the author's desk)
Introduction
In August 2001, I committed myself to beginning a career in
modern art and for the subsequent 12 months to do everything
in my power to realize success, even fame. I have poured my
heart and soul into this effort. I began with little knowledge of the
art business and knowing almost nothing about the history of
modern art. At this writing, I have not tried to sell a single piece,
but I do have a written commitment for a one man show
1
Introduction
in the most beautiful gallery in the state, Chiaroscuro, for
October 3, 2002. This book is an account of the last nine
months, how I got my first show and what I did to prepare for it.
My attempt to gain premature entry into the rarefied air of the art
“A List” has been met with both skepticism and, at times, barely concealed disdain. I know of a well established artist who confided to a mutual friend, “I’ll shoot myself if he’s successful.”
Others will have to judge the merit of the work. However, one
thing I don’t buy for a minute is the notion that I haven’t suffered
long enough. My architectural-contracting practice has kept me
in the trenches for 20 years. One conclusion I’ve come to is that
doing good work isn’t enough. Without an audience, you won’t
be successful in the art business. And art is a business. How the
art market works is largely a mystery to me, but I’m fascinated
by it.
3
Introduction
When Brice Marden finishes a painting with a price point of
$1,000,000 (telephone inquiry, Matthew Marks Gallery, June 12,
2002), its visuals are the least important reason the piece is so
collectible. His customers are mostly museums. Private collectors might wait 10 or 15 years for a chance to buy. What “A List”
artists have in common is a recognizable style and a compelling
story. By story I mean a mixture of circumstance, hype and timing. Together style and story make art history. Having said all that
with such a serious voice, I should add that my powers of persuasion haven’t worked on Pilar. For the most part, my wife
doesn’t like my art work and wishes I spent more time with the
kids. She’s wonderful. Perhaps, in the words of Robert PincusWitten, “...so much art is an immense vanity production.”
Art In America, May 2002
5
.
Chapter 1
Ron and Maxine
7
It’s early. Dark out. Our three-year-old daughter Cinta has
crawled into bed between my wife Pilar and I and they’re both
asleep. I am a landscape architect. It’s Saturday, January 5,
2002. Ron and Maxine are coming over and it’s a big deal.
9
It all started when an architect I work with told me that a wealthy,
art collecting couple was considering him for the design of a new
home. Sounded normal. But it wasn’t. Not by light years. On a
scale of 1 to 10 in client unusualness, these people were a hundred. Two numbers capture the strangeness of their one bedroom bungalow. For all of you in real estate or who have purchased a home you may think these numbers are mixed up.
They’re not. Livable 5,000 square feet, air-conditioned 27,000
square feet. The air-conditioned number is so big (about 14
times a normal house) because it has a subterranean art gallery
with four-foot thick walls that is as long as a football field. And
it’s not just talk. At this writing it’s well over halfway built. They
bought four lots and tore down the existing houses. It’s not just
big and expensive. It’s brilliant. They have a second home in
Chicago. Oprah is a neighbor.
11
I first met Ron and Maxine at a pre-construction meeting on site.
They arrived in an off-white 6-year-old Toyota Avalon. They sold
their 11-year-old Toyota Camry in Chicago and do not have a
second car. This is no problem since their new home has a one
car garage. He seemed cordial, clever, and slightly henpecked.
She was thin, birdlike, and rolled her eyes at his jokes. I found
out later that he had been Director of Physical Sciences at the
Stanford Research Institute. She was (literally) a rocket scientist
with NASA who went on to become an attorney. You wouldn’t be
able to pick them out of a crowd of three people at WalMart.
From the beginning I wanted to ask them how they got so rich.
I found out later that they started an engineering company with
$1,800 and diversified. Diversified is one way to put it. When
they sold it, it was a Fortune 500 company selling products in
every country in the world.
13
I suggested they join Spirit of the Senses (an arts club we belong
to) after bragging about how our good friends Thomas and Patty
got us into the home(s) of Rotraut (widow of Yves Klein) to see
her historic collection. Maxine replied, “We don’t attend group
functions.” When museums they support send them complimentary tickets to private dinners and preshow parties, they
decline and view exhibitions the next day with the general public. Their architect, Eddie Jones is a brilliant designer and a very
nice fellow. The combination is working and he’s landing some
plum, high profile jobs. I had been the landscape architect and
landscape contractor on several of his projects and his own
home.
15
They are thrifty. I read Ron and Maxine the last four pages of my
manuscript. As I tossed a piece of paper in the trash Maxine
noticed a paper clip and commented, “That’s wasteful.” “You’re
right; Kim (our indispensible office manager) even uses the other
sides of Xerox copies,” I said self-consciously as I reached in to
retrieve it. “So do we,” she said. They are each other’s favorite
company having spent 99% of the last 30 years within 100 feet
of each other. Ron suggested that figure would have to be
changed to 100 yards given the size of their new house.
17
The house is a fortress with two sets of vehicle entry gates, three
prioritized electronic security zones, and Barraganesque no-toehold fencing sprinkled with cactus. It’s almost impossible to
find, much less get through, the outer gate that secures the front
door. They’re somewhere between private and reclusive. A robot
is being designed that will go out on command to retrieve their
mail.
19
Their take on art world receptions strikes me as dead on:
“People go to network. There’s little opportunity for meaningful
conversation. Frequent interruptions for polite small talk interfere
with serious contemplation of the artwork, often relegating the
art itself to the status of background music.” It’s no small source
of satisfaction that they’ve agreed to be included in this book
and...(drum roll) attend the October 3rd, 2002 opening! “It’s
exciting for us to have been involved from the beginning and see
it all come together so quickly,” Ron added enthusiastically. “We
wouldn’t do it if we didn’t believe in the work,” Maxine said in a
very serious voice.
.
21
Chapter 2
Garbage on the Roof
23
Ron and Maxine’s new house will consolidate their diverse art
collections under one roof. Eddie had asked me about ideas for
the sculpture garden and adjacent roof. It looked like an opportunity. In his office, Matt and Brian talked about a field of electric
bug zappers or glowing orbs. Another idea was a water element,
but with their ancient textile collection planned for immediately
below it sounded risky. My first suggestion was to treat it like a
giant ashtray. We would take a sod roller (a drum with a handle to
flatten newly laid lawns) and weld a design on it that could be
rolled across a bed of sand leaving a pattern. This idea did not fly.
25
On the pretense that it would help my design efforts, I asked to
see the local part of their collection. They said yes.
Their winter home is in a high-rise. Not where I would live if I
were rich but it made sense as I got to know them. The guard let
us into the elevator and Maxine was there to greet us when we
arrived at their floor. Ron was funny. His jokes made me feel welcome. Maxine tried to be patient while he spoke. Their place was
clean. Super-clean in fact, and no maid. Part of the program
requirement for the house was to provide dust-free glass display
cabinets. Good thinking. Dusting could be big if you’re sitting in
a room as long as a football field full of stuff. Did I mention they
have no maid?
27
So anyway… Maxine met us at the door. Looking back I’m not
sure of everything I saw. I’ve been to the Louvre and don’t
remember what I saw there either. Everything they showed us
had a story associated with it.
29
GARBAGE MOSAIC ON THE ROOF
I suggested we collect the garbage from the construction work
and make a mosaic on the roof. I sketched swirling patterns of
what I imagined would be smashed soda cans, pieces of tar
paper bound with wire, and chunks of junk. They gave me a
check and I said I would do some samples. I began the samples
energetically but was unhappy with everything I tried. I realized
the garbage on the roof was a bad idea. As a point of pride I still
wanted to finish a sample I would be happy with. I was looking
for something taken from chaos but presented in an orderly way.
I felt as though all the miscellaneous parts I was looking at needed a unifying element.
31
I needed to simplify. I threw out everything but wire and paper.
First I bunched up the wire in dense chaos like a three-dimensional Jackson Pollock.
33
Then I rolled up the newspapers and bound them with more of
the same wire and burned them. Ross sprayed them both with
latex and I was happy. We had the recycled trash idea and it held
together graphically. These are the two pieces that got this all
started.
35
So when Ron and Maxine came over, I refunded their deposit and
said, “The garbage idea for the roof won’t fly but look what I’ve
ended up with in the process.” They liked the results (or at least
said so) and hinted they’d like to work them into the new house
scheme. What started out as a sample for a much larger idea
looked like a great size to hang on the wall. That was all I needed. From that moment I had visions of a second career in modern art.
.
37
Chapter 3
Knowledge and Naiveté
39
I began collecting art books, studying seriously and immediately fell into a vicarious cliché, “I can do that,” I thought. I felt
encouraged. For me the two giants were James Turrell of Rodin
Crater fame and Richard Serra, whose work I identified with.
Then I thought, there would be me. Good thinking Bill. You are
one smooth operator.
41
From a dead start, I gave myself one year to become a somewhat famous artist. Somewhat famous is being kind. I actually
told our friends Thomas and Patty that my goal was to be the
third most famous artist. They are the directors of an arts club
we belong to called, Spirit of the Senses. Patty said, “Would that
be in the world?” We all laughed and I was glad Pilar hadn’t
heard me. My brain can’t catch my mouth when I get excited.
My wife has a natural dignity and is embarrassed when I talk big.
Looking back I’m amazed at the depth of my naiveté.
43
We went to the Gagosian gallery in New York to see the Serra
show where I bought this catalogue. I sent him a fan letter but he
never answered.
Richard Serra: Torqued Spirals, Toruses and Spheres, (catalogue) © October - December 2001, Gagosian Gallery
45
So I studied. I started with Van Gogh a Retrospective. What a
life! Sold squat, lived on handouts from his brother his entire
adult life, got upset with Gauguin and cut off half his ear, then
shot himself in the stomach and died. He said people would talk
about him after he was gone. You were right Vincent. I’m one
of them. I saw a person that was passionate and had a distinctive style. He was the color man. I’m more like the anti-paint of
any color man. Weren’t the pyramids painted originally?
Van Gogh A Retrospective, ©1986, Hugh Lauter Levin Associates, Inc.
47
As I surveyed the art world there seemed to be a lot of paintings.
Crazy abstract stuff that looked relatively easy to do. (It's strange
reading that line written months ago referring to a De Kooning as
“stuff”.)
Willem de Kooning, “Woman #1”
The Museum of Modern Art/ Licensed by SCALA/ Art Resource, NY
49
Complicated realistic stuff that looked difficult or impossible to
do. Generally, I thought there was a lot of competition in the
paint department so I stuck with my panels and hung them up
like laundry. I liked the idea that they would be in between painting and sculpture. Whichever way I went I knew that materials
would be key. In one sense I was new to the art world but more
and more I was convinced that it was no different than the
design work I had been doing for 20 years.
Art Resource, NY
51
Reading big names in art criticism like Edward Lucie-Smith and
Robert Hughes left me amazed at how much I needed to learn.
The history of modern art (say from 1850) had a vast cast of
characters. I had no clue how the art world worked and why particular artists were the ones in textbooks. Money was missing
from the equation, but seemed to be one of the most interesting
aspects of the art business. Why were paintings, that to my eye
looked similar, selling for laughably divergent prices?
53
.
Chapter 4
Price Tags
55
One Saturday afternoon, Thomas and Patty and I went to a very
high end gallery and looked at paintings with price tags in the
hundreds of thousands of dollars. Thomas was standing in front
of a Milton Avery. His paintings sell for 50 to 600k. Thomas says,
“Beautiful, I love the colors.” Are the colors beautiful? I don’t
know. Is its childlike quality beautiful? I don’t know. It looks nice
but so do my sons’ paintings. What’s interesting to me is that
what looks so simple to my eye is worth so much money.
Milton Avery, “The White Hen and Fantasy Creatures”
Art Resource, NY
57
Then we went to see Kathleen Thomas’ Lo Do Studio gallery
59
with a homeless guy sleeping across the parking lot. We saw
paintings selling for $300. I had an idea.
61
All of the paintings shown on the left are low-resolution images
from the internet. Four are worth $3 each, four $300, four
$30,000 and four $3 million. Can you tell which is which? I can
hear museum directors complaining that I’ve cropped the work
arbitrarily, used only black and white, and reduced them so
much you can’t see them much less appreciate them. So what...
Same question: Can you tell which is which?
63
CHILDREN’S
POSTCARD
$3
AVERY
$30,000
DEKOONING
$3,000,000
ROSENTHAL
$300
No doubt smart art collectors will know right away. The rest of
DIEBENKORN
$3,000,000
JACOBS
$300
POLLOCK
$3,000,000
JOHNS
$3,000,000
you art dummies can look at the price tags. I told Patty this might
be made into a piece. She jumped all over me. “Picturing the
work in black and white and resizing it is arbitrary manipulation.
Are you trying to equate a noted, significant, artist’s work with
provenance to a $300 piece by an amateur? What are you try-
CHILDREN’S
POSTCARD
$3
SCHNABEL
$30,000
DINE
$30,000
CHILDREN’S
POSTCARD
$3
ing to say? I’m not sure I’m following where you want to take
this?” Did I mention that Patty used to work at a gallery in New
York?
MERLIS
$300
CHILDREN’S
POSTCARD
$3
JAMES-CLARKE
$300
HARING
$30,000
65
Some of these paintings are probably more beautiful than others. I’ve been studying art like a maniac for eight months and I
have no clue yet. But isn’t the money side of this interesting?
“No thanks. That Hans Hoffman would look great here by the
fridge, but I don’t think we’ll take it. We’ve decided to buy a huge
house on the lake, a new Mercedes and pay for our three kids’
college educations instead.”
Hans Hofmann, “Pompeii”
Tate Gallery, London/ Art Resource, NY
.
67
Chapter 5
Empire
69
My art work effort is the natural extension of 20 years of drawing. The second career in art began when I was up to my eyeballs on the Empire project. It was so intense that I wasn’t particularly intimidated at the prospect of doing much of anything
much less making a foray into the art world. Empire is a
Caterpillar equipment dealership that sells and services heavyduty earth moving equipment. They have 1,100 employees and
various locations of which the largest, at 40 acres, is a beehive
of activity. Mold in their administration building’s air conditioning
system required a major tearout of wall board, ceilings and ductwork. It’s a family owned and operated company. Its founder and
patriarch, Jack Whiteman (whom I’ve never met) had died about
a year earlier.
71
This place had special irony for me because a couple of years
earlier I had gone with Gary Porter to look over their unusual river
rock floors and got to check out the original building. They wanted a price to tear them out and I was there to suggest other finish options. The young man who met with us was so far from
being a decision maker that I suspected all my advice would be
wasted. I told him firmly, “You go tell the owners (he wasn’t
telling anyone anything) that this should be opened up, the parking and signage aren’t working, and there’s no light in here.”
Gary smiled. The young man said, “I’m just getting information
on replacing this rock floor.” It was one of the few times in my
life that I would be vindicated.
73
Jack’s son, John Whiteman, is now chairman and his grandson,
Jeff Whiteman, is president and chief operating officer. The inference was that John Whiteman was nearing retirement and that
this was a chance for Jeff Whiteman to make his mark. I ran into
John recently while showing a potential client around. He was so
generous in his remarks I felt proud and humbled.
75
I was ostensibly not qualified to head up the design effort of a
major remodel of such a big building. But I was hopeful. My one
chance seemed to be that I was being recommended by their
general contractor, Porter Brothers. Dennis Porter is my best
friend. So it seemed like I had a chance but it didn’t start out
well. They had already interviewed another architectural firm,
DMJM, with whom they had worked previously. It’s a big firm
with offices all over the country. Having only a landscape architect’s professional registration, I showed up at our interview with
an architect I knew who was working alone out of his home and
had only recently gone off on his own.
77
With most of senior management in the conference room, Jeff
Whiteman addressed us with, “Why don’t we get started with
you naming some of the higher profile jobs you’ve done of a similar size that we would recognize?” I thought, “That list would be
nonexistent.” My friend’s old boss was doing the same boring
work almost every architectural office in town was doing. You
could drive through industrial parks endlessly and see lowest
common denominator boxes not worth a second glance. There
was one exception on our side of town. A small office building in
Gilbert. It sang. Its two enthusiastic designers were convinced
that their little building was such a gem that it would open up a
flood of new jobs from appreciative clients.
79
The owner of that building was the general contractor Jeff
Whiteman had hired early on, Dennis Porter. One of those enthusiastic designers was me. My friend and project partner Nelson
Boren and I had turned out a strong design and I had been on
site every day throughout construction fussing over details.
Nelson left architecture years ago for a very successful career
doing western paintings.
81
So there we are and Jeff Whiteman wants to know what we’ve
done. My friend says he was with another company and could
put something together and send it over… ouch. I felt like an
imposter. What to do? After a pregnant pause I said, “Everything
out there is terrible. It’s all paint, boring and predictable. It’s all
the same! Let us redo your building and it’ll be great!” Jeff
Whiteman said, “If we’re tearing everything up this is a chance
to make some significant improvements. I want to change the
furniture and floors and window coverings. Who decides, for
instance, what our new chairs will look like?” I immediately
thought, “That would be me.” But not having picked out chairs
for anyone before I thought it prudent to remain silent. Dennis
Porter came to my rescue and said, “That would be Bill.” I said,
“If you want to know what your building will look like if I design
it, go look at Dennis’ office.”
83
Word came back to my surprise that they had marched over to
the Porter Brothers building. Jeff liked it and I was in. Once in a
while the stars cross and by accident a little bit of justice falls to
Earth. It just doesn’t happen very often. I needed to team up with
a good-sized architectural firm. Now, however, I was in the driver’s seat and able to joint venture with my former competitor
DMJM. I secured the role of design lead and we were off. The
whole thing would have been impossible without Dennis. Porter
Brothers brought tremendous skill and knowledge to the table.
With so many projects coming out of the ground, you might
imagine them to be hard driving, aggressive personalities. You
would be wrong. More thoughtful, modest and conscience-driven men are not to be found. A confrontation with them is inconceivable. The tiny improvements I have made as a father and
husband are the result of their influence. So Porter Brothers gutted the building.
85
These are among the first presentation drawings I did. Jeff’s
message was, “When our customers visit us, they should know
that we eat, sleep, and breathe tractors and engines. This
shouldn’t look like a bank or an attorney’s office.” I had seen a
small antique dozer in the original lobby. I wanted to put it under
a glass floor in the boardroom.
87
We did.
89
It looks great but the glass floor is a pain to keep clean. When it
was done, I brought over an armature and hung two of the six
artwork panels I had completed at that point. I was hoping the
executives would fall in love with the work. They didn’t.
91
My first idea for the lobby was to permanently incorporate a big
track drive excavator. I wanted the bucket to reach out and
hover like a scorpion over the head of the receptionist. That idea
was a go until I suggested we change it for a big bulldozer
mounted to a concrete wedge like it was ready for take off.
Sadly, this did not happen.
93
Many drawings later we went with a big hydraulic hammer used
to break up rock and concrete.
95
The original lobby was tired Sixties.
97
For the new version I snagged a 16-cylinder engine block for the
receptionist and used eight of the pistons to support a glass
transaction counter.
99
CAT makes great die cast scale models of its equipment. I
thought it would be especially interesting if we could put the
equipment in super realistic work environments. After an unsuccessful experience with a model maker, we started over and
made all the model display environments ourselves in my
garage. Does that rock look real or what? We did the water with
tinted resin. It was the beginning of what would later emerge in
the artwork. At this writing, we’re pouring the same blue epoxy
around the legs of the 36 dolls in the white Sano-lite circle.
101
I used dozer stabilizer arms for column supports on new awnings
that almost didn’t get built. I lost the second story shading but
begged (on my knees) and got these done.
103
Dennis and I found a sheep’s-foot compacting drum in Empire’s
holding yard and it was beautiful. I used them to mark the entry
axis.
105
In memory of the D-9 that never made it into the lobby, I put
stainless steel dozer stencils in the floors of the water features
that flank the entry.
107
The boardroom table was a huge technical challenge. I wanted
to tell the history of something they used that had a lot of small
parts. Fuel injection was it. With some difficulty we found a justretired guy, Don Lindquist, who has a lifetime of working with
resins under his belt. He knew how to suspend stuff in bar
counter tops and didn’t want to take it to his grave. He and Ross
became friends.
109
We walled in an area and made it into an equipment sculpture
garden. Scrounging around their used parts department was
productive and fun.
111
The finished building turned out great. Flip back to page 72 to
see the before. Many people made the project successful.
113
John and Jeff Whiteman, owners with ethics. Gale Plummer, vice
president and the owner’s representative, an uncannily knowledgeable executive. And Randy Lamb, their trusted Empire properties
manager.
Pat O’Keeffe, DMJM architect and gracious collaborator. Nathan
Morey, DMJM designer and a huge talent. He never got the credit
he deserved. While I was grabbing the spotlight, he did much of the
grunt work. Dawson Stewart, Porter Brothers’ construction manager. Smart, competent and trusted. Leads by example. Glen
Washburn, 15 years ago when I thought I knew everything about
construction we butted heads. A man of action for whom I have
great respect.
Luis Mejia, Ross Burkhardt, Tom Richard and Federico Saenz, our
dedicated Tonnesen foremen. Ross’ fine craftsmanship has become
indispensable to the art effort. I called Dennis to talk over whose picture I’d have to drop to get everyone in. He said to drop him.
115
Okay, Mr. Porter.
.
117
Chapter 6
The Work
119
As far as I can see, the difference between art and architecture
is that art is easier. No clients, no meetings, no life-safety issues,
and you’re not constantly focused on cost. Ironically, I brought
my own constraints to the table and the tighter and simpler the
work became, the happier I was with it. Years before I had laid
out the colonnade (a covered walkway leading to the studio) with
121
a rhythm of openings exactly eight feet wide. The panels fit
beautifully. As the studio filled up I was on the prowl for places
to hang the work. I was overwhelmed with ideas and was having
trouble prioritizing.
123
From day one, I limited myself to a panel size of four feet by
four feet, but it took five months of work and study to sort
everything out.
125
My habit is to take notes and sketch ideas on the 3x5 index
cards I always have with me. I had drawn over 70 pieces that
were waiting to be realized but they lacked a unifying theme.
They were largely visual attractions.
127
I walked around the rat maze that the studio had become and an
insight came to me:
129
I had too much inspiration. I was going in too many directions.
My art book collection was growing. Everyone I knew had ideas
for pieces. Aside from John’s, I didn’t like any of them. I was
visiting galleries and museums.
I had subscribed to Art in
America, ARTnews, Art Forum and at Patty’s insistence,
131
the Sunday edition of The New York Times. I tell students not to
put so much weight and worry on deciding what they should do.
Just do what’s in front of you passionately. Acquire skill and
knowledge in any area and it will transfer gracefully to other
fields even if you don’t see connections between them at the
time. I’m fascinated with the existential notion that our acts of
discrimination, simple decisions really, are what bring meaning
to chaos. Sound wordy and vague? I can’t stand “artist statements”. Trying to sound profound they all end up with boring
mumbo jumbo. Have you ever seen an artist’s statement you
could remember even five minutes after you read it? When is the
last time you read a funny artist statement?
133
If you meet me, at say Chiaroscuro in October or the Armory
Show in February, I will be wearing a white shirt. This is easy to
predict because I only wear white shirts. Doesn’t matter why, but
this affect could be viewed as fashion stifling or liberating. Are
fewer choices liberating? Plato had an interesting take on the
“yes” answer. Democracy, he thought, left people burdened with
too many choices, choices which they were ill-equipped to discriminate between.
So, I looked at the 50 pieces I had done with a fresh eye, essentially looking for the white shirt.
135
It took five months for me to see it, but the panels were sorting
themselves out into informal categories.
Plagiarism
I scanned a famous Van Gogh self portrait from a text book. We
posterized it in black and white in photoshop and floated the
images in resin. By combining them with black and white brushes (respectively) I thought I’d come up with something conceptual. At the time they seemed, like the Mona Lisa, within the public domain. Now it looks like plagiarism. I still like the brushes,
but the faces are candidates for destruction.
137
Dead Ends
The photos of plaster casts of my face look like posters from a
rock album. After seeing them in the studio for a month or two
they looked more and more commercial and self-conscious. So
an expert comes over. Susan Crane, Director of the Scottsdale
Museum of Contemporary Art and her architect husband Chuck.
Her take is different. “They’re less burdened with preconceptions. I wouldn’t discount these pieces. You can’t know now how
they’ll fit into whole body of work later on.” she says. More discouraging is another comment she makes to the effect that you
can’t know how your work really stacks up until after you’re
dead. Talking with her heightens my awareness of the relatively
disparate roles of galleries (essentially merchants) and museums
(academic custodians).
139
Bound, Burned and Preserved Periodicals
Simple, iconic, and to my eye, beautiful. This body of work takes
the publications that strike me as culturally significant and stops
their creation and destruction cycle. So far I’ve subscribed to
JAMA, Scientific American, The New Yorker, Mad, Smithsonian,
Reader's Digest, the Economist, National Geographic, Vogue, Vanity
Fair, Time, Harper's Bazaar, Cosmo, Architectural Digest and
Arizona Highways with more to follow.
141
I wrote to ArtForum, Art in America, and ARTnews explaining how
I was using newspapers and magazines like theirs in an art project and asking for back issues. Only the last wrote back. Remind
me not to advertise in the other two.
143
We hand-delivered a similar letter to Martha Stewart’s mail room
in Tribecca during our first New York trip. She never wrote back
either, but it was fun visiting Martha world. The men’s room was
the most brightly lit I’ve ever been in. I asked Pilar if I could have
her old Martha Stewart's Living magazines and she replied, “No.”
145
News flash: Two months after getting the ARTnews letter, I
received this cordial carta from Art in America. Better late than
never. Thanks Sandra!
147
Chaos and Order
The ready-made assemblages of New Realism. In this body of
work the pattern is the message. The message is always the
same. These pairs should be kept together. The tea cups and
spoons (steady now) have reached out to guess who? Yes, Pilar
likes the tea cups. Is there a Martha connection here?
149
Structured Panels
They are material-based and a natural extension of my DesignBuild practice. The latex nipples in the black neoprene field are
placed at two inches on center and can be lit from behind.
151
I laid out a matrix with the 10 materials I wanted to work with:
asphalt, lead, mud, concrete, gold, silver, San-O Lite (a white
plastic material used for cutting boards), aluminum, steel, and
neoprene. I wanted to see the same patterns repeated in everything. I began drawing the details for the first pattern—a 32”
diameter circle.
153
The thorns of the mud circle are placed at 10˚ on center. We used
dirt from the Empire site because it had more clay content and I
liked the way it cracked.
155
When I went to an auto parts store to get the tire pressure
gauges for the asphalt circle, they were all plastic. To get the
chromed brass gauges I remembered as a teenager, we had to
order them.
157
I thought about using rebar for the concrete circle, but settled on
smooth rod.
159
The lead sheet has been left unfinished as shipped from the
manufacturer. The surface has an uneven quality I like. The bullets are stationed at 10˚ on center.
161
Drapery
The lead is polished with automotive rubbing compound. It gives
it a rich, dark luster. For me these pieces are beautiful. We’re
doing more with liquid rubber, white plaster, beeswax and epoxy.
I’m so excited I (almost) can’t think of anything else.
163
Flat Work
At this writing, just an idea. My version of oil, watercolor, encaustic, acrylic, charcoal or ketchup. Still 4 x 4’s, but all images are
of the same simple branch. Size, shape, position, angle all
exactly the same forever. The pattern is always the same. The
message is always changing. If this sounds vague, picture the
MTV logo permutations from (what was it?) the Eighties.
165
Social Commentary
The most complicated work to pull together, hopefully, removed
from the marketplace. More in the Dried Poultry Waste chapter.
167
.
Chapter 7
Dried Poultry Waste
169
I had always preferred fish and never eat red meat. I knew from
T.V. that the mechanical butchering of little chicken corpses had
number two (to use my kids terminology) contamination problems. Here’s one you may not have known. Farmers feed chicken feces back to the chickens in a kind of perpetual motion circle. How much is mixed with non-number two feed I don’t know,
but Ross went undercover to our state’s largest egg producer
and from one good ol’ boy to another found out that, “If you’re
feeding ‘em DPW straight, put molasses on it.”
171
Recycled animal waste has been used as a feed ingredient for almost 40 years. This animal waste contains large amounts of protein, fiber, and minerals.
While the practice of feeding animal waste to animals seems unpleasant, the use of this product is safe
as long as it meets certain specifications required by
the Association of American Feed Control Officials.
AAFCO has established “Standard Names and
Definitions” for processed waste products as follows.
74.1 – Dried Poultry Waste – (DPW) – a processed
animal waste product composed primarily of feces
from commercial poultry, which has been thermally
dehydrated to a moisture content not in excess of
15.0%. It must contain not less than 18.0% crude
protein, and not more than 15.0% crude fiber,
30.0% ash, and 1.0% feathers.
If this seems unsavory to you vegetarian sympathizers, don’t be
concerned. We checked with the Food and Drug Administration’s
Daryl Fleming, Communications Staff, at the FDA Center for
Veterinary Medicine for guidelines.
173
You want your teriyaki sauce to marinate the birds who ate these
tidy pellets, which are actually food, as in grain.
175
not these messy morsels which are sprouting from a field of
feces. I’m off chicken for good.
177
Although I’ve only got the chicken pieces done, there are four
more social commentary diptychs planned.
Smoking
A sad black and white picture of a man near death from lung
cancer on the left, his lungs in formaldehyde surrounded by
thousands of cigarettes on the right.
179
Alcohol
Sober girl on the left with a gruesome crash photo behind lockable doors on the right surrounded by asphalt.
181
Drugs
Pre-overdose guy on the left, a tiny morgue image on the right
surrounded by pills under glass.
Heart Disease (not pictured)
Not sure yet how to use them, but I’d like to get the blockages
surgeons remove from veins and arteries. Got any ideas? Better
yet, if you’re a heart surgeon, let’s talk...
183
Parallel to the Chaos and Order, Periodicals, Drapery, Structured
Panels and Social Commentary work, I’m developing three
sculpture groups. Trapped, Drowning and four-foot cube masses of steel Assemblage starting with pick heads. I’ve gotten
them thanks to the generosity of Desierto Verde, a large tree-salvage company that goes through picks by the bushel. The nicest
tree I ever planted, a blue palo verde (page 112) is from them.
Thanks Tina.
185
After several prototypes I’ve settled on this design for the armature the panels will hang from. It breaks down into four pieces
and uses adjustable neoprene machine mounts as feet. The twoinch alcove in the mast contains a bull’s eye liquid level that confirms plumb in four compass directions. This design allows for
adjustment of the feet after the panels are hung.
187
.
Chapter 8
Trapped and Drowning
189
It’s Memorial Day morning and I’m poised to write this chapter
on figures trapped in concrete and drowning in something
translucent. The steel form to pour the concrete is made and
we’re ready to cast the bronze. The inside of the box is six feet
tall. I am not. This bad fit is no accident.
191
“This work references, in its macabre isolation,
a claustrophobic containment,
the challenge of overcoming the...”
What I wrote initially sounds like a typical, vague, artist’s statement.
193
I've been trying to incorporate the human figure into my work
forever. Total number of custom figurative pieces placed to date
would be, like all the other pieces, zero.
195
“Nothing’s easy,” pretty much sums up my world view.
Buddhism’s middle path through a life of suffering could be a
major cartographic assist if the world wasn’t so full of idiots and
impatient persons. (I may be impatient, but I’m just. If I were
king, before locking all the smokers up I’d give them a chance to
quit.) So I try to talk this over with Pilar and she says, “You only
care about the people you like. You’re not careful with the feelings of anybody else.” She hasn’t had enough philosophy in
school to appreciate the complexity of these issues.
197
When we were building my office/studio, I remember thinking I’d
get my chance... I drew a four by four foot shaft about eight feet
deep with a glass plate positioned so that you’d have to walk
over it every time you came in or left. In the bottom I had a figure crawling towards a light in a side tunnel, legs just visible.
Pilar hated the idea and we were so over budget (she claims I
didn't have a budget) that it never happened.
199
Sometimes I feel as though I’m in a constant struggle to get anything to turn out right. We did some tests. I wanted to push as
much light as possible up into the torso of the translucent figure
that appears to be trapped in an invisible box. I’m excited about
these glowing figures. Getting the whole thing right is intense
and the light glowing out of the figure represents that intensity.
Kim said I was creating a stressful work place. I said, “but look
at what we’re trying to accomplish. This is a special situation. It
takes an intense effort. Later we can rest.” She said, “But you're
always like this.” ...Ouch.
201
I kept an image I saw in the April, 2002 issue of ARTnews clipped
open and out on my desk for over a month. It's an ad for the
Bernardi Roig Show at the Claire Oliver Fine Art Gallery in New
York. I love this image. The black suits, scarred but realistic
faces, their pairing and the fire. The fire brought another dimension to the piece.
ARTnews, © April 2002
203
In a way I find it very similar to the prosthetic eyes I saw in my
Kiki Smith book. It’s a fascinating book, but not for family viewing. If the gallery will go along with it, I’d like to isolate one of my
drowning figures in a blackout room illuminated solely by its
glow with a voice-over breaking down my “everything is a
headache” theory into its complaining parts.
Kiki Smith, ©1998, Helaine Posner
205
.
Chapter 9
Getting Into a Gallery
Gallery Guide, ©2002, Art Now, Inc.
207
So I started to check out galleries with John Ball. At first it was
almost at random looking for contemporary, avoiding the ubiquitous Indian and western. John is an architect and came to us
from Habitat, a large design/build firm, where he was VicePresident of Architecture. I’ve never worked day-to-day with
anyone like him. Very likable, better than I am with clients, and
able to do so many of the things that no one else but I could do
before. I’m not sure I could have pulled everything together on
the art side without him covering for me. Randy Chamberlain, his
previous employer at Habitat, was a tough act to follow. He had
given John a white Miata sports car as a present the previous
Christmas. Thanks Randy.
209
John knew about art. Early on I had a list of maybe a dozen
artists, I’m not sure where I got them, that I asked him to look up
on the internet. No need. He tells me about each of them off the
top of his head. He’s been painting for years (his art looks like
early Diebenkorn) and he worked in a museum during college.
211
John knew a local artist, Bill Barnhart, who once had a gallery of
his own in Scottsdale. His work
213
had a macabre Francis Bacon quality. I was surprised to find out
he was Mormon. We invited him over to see the work and have
lunch. He was the first person I’d talked to with real experience.
I had been working for about two months, had 20 pieces done
and was hanging on his every word. He thought my work was
“cutting edge” and should be in a very exclusive gallery. Kind
remarks, but I expected it would be tough getting a show with a
really good dealer.
History of Modern Art, Painting-Sculpture-Architecture, ©1968, Prentice-Hall, Inc. and Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
215
Five contemporary galleries struck me as possible venues. I
checked them out without divulging my intentions.
Udinotti Gallery
The second I walked in I spotted some huge silvery images I’d
seen at a stylish restaurant. Agnese Udinotti had provided most
of the art work. It was bold, but not colorful; it looked great. The
gallery is cozy. The work is brooding–even dark. Agnese looks
like a wild librarian. I like the place, and feel sure she’d like my
work, but the gallery is too small.
217
Riva Yares Gallery
She’s done salons for Spirit of the Senses. Thomas thinks she
may be one of the most powerful dealers in the country. “If she
likes the work, she can make an unknown artist famous,” he
says. I go to two shows, meet her briefly. The ambience is intimidating. I decide asking her to look at the work is not worth the
emotional stress. Thomas and Patty were invited to attend an
Architectural Digest party there and asked me to tag along. It was
my first chance to check out her upstairs, “inner sanctum”. If
things go well and I’m able to build a gallery, I want to follow her
example and have an elegant private space for family, friends
and collectors.
219
Vanier Gallery
It’s a large gallery in a great location. Their exhibitions seem to
coincide with the Phoenix Art Museum’s. At this writing they’re
both showing Dale Chihuly, the glass guy. They have another
gallery in Tucson in a handsome, exposed, adobe-block, strip
center with good places to eat on either side. Gerre Lynn Vanier
is charming. She has a daughter Cinta’s age. Tall and dressed to
the nines, she comes across as gracious and welcoming. This
would be a prestigious venue for a show. Architecturally the
space is chopped up and the building is far from cutting edge.
221
Bentley Gallery (Materia)
The director, Glen Lineberry, did a salon for Spirit of the Senses,
previewing their Warhol exhibition. I’m impressed. Maybe this is
the guy who’ll teach me about the art business. He sounds wellread. When he’s done I bound up and say, “I want to hire you as
a consultant; I’m going into the art business. I’m not trying to sell
you anything, I just want information.” The neon sign above my
head that says, “I’m not a collector and won’t buy anything,”
began flashing. I’m disappointed; I handled that badly.
223
I found out later that the Bentley Gallery controls the large gallery
materia across the street. It’s all ceramics and sculpture. Inside
I’m thinking, “My stuff would look great there.” From the street,
the building has zero curb appeal. The open area between the
curb and the building looks under-utilized. I wished I owned this
property.
225
Chiaroscuro
For many years it was the prestigious Suzanne Brown Gallery. Its
long time director, Bill Lykins, was approached by Stephan and
Ursula Gebert to open a gallery they wanted to buy in Santa Fe.
He accepts. They buy another one; he opens that. He finds out
that his old boss might be willing to sell. The Geberts buy the
Suzanne Brown building and remodel it completely. Ironically, I
know the architect Doyle Hostetler. He’s good; the space is
beautiful; and my heart is pounding, “Please, please let things
work out to get me into this gallery.” This would be the deluxe
place to be. Architecturally it is my first choice.
227
One night after a salon, Thomas, Patty and I go to a restaurant,
AZ’88. The original building was nothing special but it is now
beautiful and seems to be in a perpetual state of transformation.
Janis Leonard has found in Karl (the owner) a great client and
collaborator. She is one of the few interior design people I’ve met
with hardcore architectural skills. She is not the person to help
you match your pillows with your drapes.
229
Both Karl and Janis are very enthusiastic about the art work. She
suggests I go see their place in Soho, “Bar 89”. It has no separate men’s and women’s restrooms. Only unisex toilet stalls with
clear glass doors that fog when you enter. The toilet paper left on
the seat and people giggling outside added to the theater of the
place. Very memorable.
231
We’re on the patio at “AZ ‘88” eating dinner and Bill Lykins, the
gallery director from Chiaroscuro comes out, recognizes Thomas
and Patty, and to my surprise, remembers me from years before
when I had stopped by the gallery (Suzanne Brown at that time)
to show him some pottery designs I had done. I had no recollection of this until he reminded me. Lykins is now a key player
in my world. I know by reputation that despite his smooth bedside manner, he’s tough to corral. In a few days, Pilar and I were
leaving with Spirit of the Senses to New York.
233
So I call him.
I: “I'd like you to come down to the studio and see my work.”
Lykins: “Sounds good; why don't you call me in a couple of weeks
and we'll set something up?”
I: Weeks? “I want you to come over tonight. I'm going to New York
and I need a consultant. I have so many questions about the art business. Could you please come over even if it's just for a quick visit?”
Lykins: “Well, I've got a six o'clock, maybe I could stop by for a few
minutes after that?”
I had about 20 panels to show. His feedback would have a big
impact, negatively or positively.
235
Lykins is looking at the work. I’m doing most of the talking. He’s
deliberate, taking it all in. We sit down at my desk. Pilar is all
ears; she almost never sits in on a meeting but she knew this
was a big moment. We’re waiting for him to pronounce judgment
and when he doesn’t, I say, “Well, what do you think?”
He rolls his chair back, turns to look over his shoulder, then says,
“I think it will sell.” “Really!”, I’m ecstatic. “Did you hear that my
wife?” Thank goodness she was there. He said he wanted to
bring the Geberts over and I was in Heaven. I had worked
intensely with little objective encouragement. This was just what
the doctor ordered.
.
237
Chapter 9
New York
239
Since the end of World War II, say 1950ish, New York has been
the center of the art world. So off we went (nervously after 9/11)
with Spirit of the Senses.
Thomas and Patty are New York
obsessed. My coat pockets and Pilar’s purse were stuffed with
pictures of the work mounted on post card size pieces of chipboard thinking I would discreetly leave a packet with each gallery
we visited. Wrong. In New York, the trick was going to be getting
into just one good gallery, and ironically I decided that showing
photos of my work was a hopeless way to connect with a good
dealer.
241
We had just spent the afternoon at the amazing home-studio of
Arman.
photo, Pilar Tonnesen–Artonnesen
243
Lauri Lundquist, a local sculptor, had looked at my stuff and
said, “You should check out Arman’s work.” He was unknown to
me. “Arman who?” “Just Arman,” she said. A gallery had misprinted “Armand” in the 1960s and after recovering from his irritation he kept it that way and dropped his last name altogether.
Thomas and Patty, famous for getting their members into exclusive venues (like backstage at The Producers) had contacted him
to do a salon. He owns a four-story building in Tribecca. He is, I
came to learn, an historic figure. I felt as though I was meeting
Picasso. He had a retrospective in Florida, a show in Taipei and
was leaving for one man shows in Tehran and St. Petersburg. He
was represented in New York by the Marlborough Gallery, which
I resolved to check out on my next trip.
Arman, ©1987, E.L.A. La Différence, 103, rue La Fayette, Paris
Arman, ©1987, Auteur d’un livre consacré a Arman paru aux Éditions De La Différence
Arman, ©1991, E.L.A. La Différence
Arman, ©1994, E.L.A. La Différence
245
In the Metropolitan Museum of Art book store, moments before
closing, I spotted this book on Yves Klein. Fate or luck would
later find his widow, Rotraut Moquay Klein, autographing it. In
the 1950s, Arman, Claude Pascal and Yves Klein met through
judo in Nice, France and became best friends. When I was born
in 1953, Klein was studying judo in Japan where he earned the
rank of fourth dan black belt. Yves Klein’s stature as a pivotal figure in the history of modern art seems, if anything, to be increasing with the passage of time.
Yves Klein, ©2000, Société Nouvelle Adam Biro
247
In 1958, three thousand people showed up at the Iris Clert
Gallery in Paris for a one man show. It was completely empty. He
painted the gallery all white, essentially a gigantic monochrome.
His nude women slathered with paint were precursors to the
happenings in the 1960s and 1970s. His death in 1962 at age 34
cut short a meteoric career.
Yves Klein, ©2000, Société Nouvelle Adam Biro
249
His widow, Rotraut,is an artist in her own right. She and her art
promoter husband, Daniel Moquay, have a fabulous collection.
He seems to know everyone in the New York/Paris art worlds.
My impression is that he thinks I lack a “spiritual” connection to
my work, haven’t suffered enough and am essentially producing
commercial craft rather than art. He is very opinionated about
what is and is not art, an area where I am reluctant to go.
Yves Klein, ©2000, Société Nouvelle Adam Biro
251
Patty had C&M Arts on our New York art itinerary. It didn’t really
look like a gallery. More like an old fancy townhouse with a selfimportant security guard in the lobby. It was exciting. A huge
Hopper, Picasso, and Freud hung with many of the other major
figures I had been studying. This was exactly what I had come
to New York for. The show was, for me, surprisingly edgy. I
snagged a price list but almost nothing seemed to be for sale. I
was confused. I asked a guy about pricing and before I could
stop him, off he went to get what turned out to be the Director
of Exhibitions, Robert Pincus-Witten.
photo, Pilar Tonnesen–Artonnesen
253
He explained that the Jenny Saville paintings were selling at auction for two to four hundred thousand. “Why?” I asked. He said,
“Her work is a fetishized commodity today. There’s a very strong
demand among a small group of collectors. Her work is highly
sought after.” Before my brain could disengage my mouth I blurted out, “That’s what I will be.” He laughed and offered me a book
that went with the show. I had already bought one. He was the
author. We had just left the studio of Arman, an artist about
whom I thought I was now an authority. “Do you know his
work?” I asked smartly. “I was the assistant to Iris Clert, his first
dealer in Paris,” he replied. What is a dealer anyway?
Catalog Copyright, ©2001, C&M Arts, Inc.
“Naked Since 1950”, ©2001, by Robert Pincus-Witten
Jenny Saville, Brace, 1999, oil on canvas, 119 x 71 1/2 inches, Gagosian Gallery
Photo by Robert McKeever
255
After C&M, our next stop was a building where every time you
get out of the elevator you’re in a different gallery. One of my
most memorable experiences of that first trip to New York was
seeing a 10" x 10" piece of white matte board with a scrap of
burlap stapled to it and a few dabs of whitish paint. No frame, no
craft, and from what I could see, no nothing. Price, can you hear
the punch line coming? $250,000. $250k! It looked like something you’d throw out before having a garage sale. Later, I asked
Patty if she could figure out which gallery we had seen it in.
Richard Gray Gallery, 1018 Madison Ave., New York, NY 10021
257
Three months pass and we’re back in New York walking into the
Art Dealers show. First thing on the left is the Richard Gray
gallery and the very first piece as you enter is (can you guess?)
the little burlap piece! I checked and the price was still $250,000.
There’s 600 galleries in New York. I can’t believe we stumbled
onto the same piece. There’s a bigger piece (literally all white) by
the same artist for $585,000. This time, however, my read on the
work is quite different.
Richard Gray Gallery, The Art Show, February 21-25, 2002
259
The artist, who I had never heard of on the first trip, is Robert
Ryman. His is a familiar name now. His paintings are so minimal,
essentially all white since the 1960s, they out monochrome the
likes of Agnes Martin, the early Brice Marden, and Barnett
Newman. So... Do I like his all-white paintings? If you ask me if I
like the evening news, I would say yes, but it’s not Tom Brokaw’s
hair style that I like, it’s the program’s content. The more you
know about foreign affairs the more interesting the news is.
Ryman’s work is interesting. He had, whether you like it or not,
an identifiable style that was his own. He stuck to the white on
white with such resolution for so long that he carved out a niche
for himself in the history of modern art. It’s expensive because
it’s not derivative.
The Art Book, ©1994, Phaidon Press Limited
261
I knew C&M would have a booth at the “Art Dealer’s Show”. If
Pincus-Witten didn’t look too busy I wanted to say hi and tell him
I was writing a book. What I didn’t expect was C&M to be on the
prime real estate directly in front of everyone who came in. The
piece behind him is a Bruce Nauman. Like the “Naked Since
1950 Show”, all the works in their booth looked pedigreed and
pricey.
263
His follow-up fax to Thomas and Patty.
265
Fast forward two months. I sent him an early draft of this book.
His first response, while not entirely enthusiastic, was quotable.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of taking his personal remarks
out of context. His response (which is not the one to the left) to
my subsequent letter of apology was incredibly unkind.
267
The “Art Dealer’s Show” was not for me at all. Very formal, dignified, lots of modern masters, i.e. dead painters like Hoffman,
Avery, Dubuffet, De Kooning and the ubiquitous Warhol and
Lichtenstein. The dealers struck me generally as haughty and
imperious. The occasional not-rich-looking browsers had “artist”
tattooed on their foreheads.
269
One gallery looked different. Unlike the others who seemed to
have one of everything, the Allan Stone booth had only one artist
and he wasn’t dead.
271
Kurt Trampedach is apparently Denmark’s most famous painter.
I bought the big coffee table book of his work they were selling.
He lives in a gorgeous place in the Pyrenées. From the photo on
the cover he looked to be about 35 or 40. Later, I saw a browser who didn’t fit in: white hair, not dressed fancy. He looked like
he was pushing 60. I said, “Hey, who are you?” I had a hunch
and was right. It was the Dane. We went back to look at his
paintings and talked about stone work.
Kurt Trampedach, ©2001, Mikael Wivel, Aschehoug Dansk Forlag A/S in collaboration with Allan Stone Gallery
273
Our conversation was punctuated with laughing interruptions
from a guy in tennis shoes lounging in their booth. He seemed
successful with houses on both coasts. He turned out to be the
owner of the gallery, Allan Stone. I thought maybe he was new
to the art trade. Maybe the gallery was just a hobby. Our conversation was about tennis and back pain, not art. That night we
went out to dinner with Patty’s uncle, Symon Cowles. He had
retired from ABC and, to my surprise, had known Allan Stone for
30-plus years. He told me that the network had hired Stone in
the Sixties to negotiate the purchase of corporate art work. He
had the insight to buy the likes of Pollock and De Kooning, the
value of which skyrocketed. This picture of Symon with a Pollock
was taken about 1968.
275
Symon is also an artist. This photo of him with one of his paintings was taken about 1978. Some of the executives weren’t
enthusiastic about the abstract paintings and requested
Symon’s work, which ABC paid $100 each for. Later, when the
network changed hands, the art collection was sold off, the
Pollock fetching a bit more than $100.
277
“The Armory Show” was a different event altogether. This was
the place for me. 170 galleries were represented, about 80 from
Europe. These were not the gray beards.
279
My two favorite pieces were a cast iron figure by Antony
Gormley (right) at the White Cube gallery booth, and the Dirt Man
by James Croak (left) at the Stefan Stux gallery booth. I resolved
that I had to be there next year. I didn’t want to say what I was
thinking but it turned out that Patty was thinking the same thing.
She said that if we were there my booth would dominate the
show. (It sounds so smug and presumptuous I’ll be surprised if I
don’t edit this out.) The reason the thought came to me is that
our booth, if I could get a gallery to cooperate, would be themed
rather than like all the others that I saw as collecting relatively
disparate objects that tended to blend together visually with the
other booths. It is, I suppose, understandable that they want to
include as many of their artists as possible but the overall effect
is homogenizing.
281
If you go to the New York Armory show in February 2003, look
for me or Thomas or Patty and say “Hi”. If you see Pilar, please
be super nice. It means I’ve talked her into leaving the kids with
a sitter for a couple of days. If you are a rich art collector, don’t
say or insinuate it. She will likely read you as foolish. I don’t know
yet with whom we’ll work and be there; Chiaroscuro, or
Marlborough, or Luhring Augustine or whomever, but I’m committed.
.
283
Chapter 11
The “A List”
285
I read someone else’s version of how to promote an art career.
In, Taking the Leap, Building a Career as a Visual Artist the
approach is essentially, take great photos of your work and
send’em out. The book struck me as practical, traditional, and
very thorough in the bases it covered. Having already done my
own scheming before I saw the book, it was a luxury to read. It
left me feeling like a maniac after seeing what a normal plan
looked like. Cay Lang, the author, quotes Robert Hughes as saying, “the annual output of all American art schools is probably
around 35,000 graduates.” Multiply that times other countries
and even if only a small percentage tried to make a mortgage
payment by painting pictures, that’s a lot of canvas. The art market economist, David Kusin, told me that 90,000 IRS forms say
“Fulll Time Artist”.
Taking the Leap, @ 1998, Cay Lang, Chronicle Books
287
So, of all these people, (Ok. Artists. How do you feel about self
appointed titles?), who is at the top of the heap today?
Contemplating who the most collectible living contemporary
artists are fascinates me. I resolved to create my own top twenty “A List”. The top ten, A+ the next ten, A.
Collectibility is affected by an artist’s presence in museums and
print media, but first is price. The only price information that’s
readily available is auction results, which makes ranking Jaspar
Johns number one easy, but probably doesn’t provide a good
measure of what Gagosian can command for Richard Serra’s
work. My next homework assignment was to study each artist’s
biography more thoroughly. Among my favorite art books is this
Artists at Work volume.
Artists at Work, © 1999, Rizzoli International Publications, Inc.
289
In 1992, Jenny Saville sold a painting, “Branded”, from her
degree show at Glasgow School of Art to Charles Saatchi for
$1,427. On June 27, 2001 the same painting sold at Christies’
auction for $476,357. Some people have stressed the importance of “who you know” and the Saatchi connection might be
an example. I just don’t know. She has a very distinctive style.
291
Number three on my “A+ List”, Cy Twombly, is the quintessential modern artist. So modern his canvases look literally like a
child’s scribbling. At first it’s easy to be dismissive, but I found
myself lingering longer at a Twombly at MoMA than any single
Richter. Dismissive is probably too mild. No one looks at his
work without becoming an instant art expert. The, “My kid
could...” line is inevitable. My opinion? I just don’t know. From
what I’ve learned, this is far, far from a gimmick. He’s had the
same identifiable style forever. Think the person who did this
painting (Seostris) is a slob? Try a modest southern gentleman
from an important political family in Virginia who spends most of
his time in Italy.
CY TWOMBLY Coronation of Sesostris, 2000 GAGOSIAN GALLERY
293
I am writing a book (hardcover, 600 pages, September, 2002
publication) which will include an “A List” of the top twenty living
contemporary artists. A first pass at the list is on the reverse side of
this card. While auction results are readily available, I have found
primary market information with respect to the collectibility of
specific artists to be a secret. Would you be kind enough to add
any names you think appropriate, proportional to the number you
cross out and, if you like, assign a number to each. Please include
living artists only. You may be cited as a generic source, but any
opinion you render as to who should or should not be on this list will
be kept strictly confidential. If you are able to respond promptly,
I will send you a Book Store Edition as a thank you. Please mail this
card or a copy of both sides to the attention of Kim Wentzel at
Artonnesen, 105 E. 15th St., Tempe, Arizona 85281.
To get info from dealers I sent out this postcard to what I think
are the top 500 contemporary galleries. When I get data back, I’ll
Bill Tonnesen
(For more information on the book, go to artonnesen.com )
GALLERY EDITION
BOOK STORE EDITION
modify my list and post it. Click on “A List” at artonnesen.com. I
GMH Fine Art
1234 W. Elm Street
Phoenix. AZ 85432
want to see if the bigshot insiders agree with my choices.
295
A+ List
A List
Jaspar Johns
Lucian Freud
Cy Twombly
Gerhard Richter
David Hockney
Brice Marden
Wayne Thiebaud
Frank Stella
Jeff Koons
Richard Serra
Bruce Nauman
Robert Ryman
Chuck Close
James Rosenquist
Kenneth Noland
Agnes Martin
Antoni Tapies
Robert Gober
Ellsworth Kelly
Anselm Kiefer
______________________________
______________________________
______________________________
______________________________
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______________________________
Other Candidates
Carl Andre
Louise Bourgeois
Francesco Clemente
John Currin
Jim Dine
Eric Fischl
Helen Frankenthaler
Roni Horn
Robert Longo
Roberto Matta
Ron Mueck
Claes Oldenburg
Philip Pearlstein
Larry Rivers
Ed Ruscha
Lucas Samaras
Jenny Saville
Cindy Sherman
Kiki Smith
Tom Wesselman
If the dealers think I’ve left someone out, it’ll be interesting to see
whom they remove from the list to make room. Saying my “A
List” includes 20 people, not 10 or 100 might seem arbitrary but
from where I’m sitting that’s the fun of writing a book. I can do
whatever I want.
297
It’s interesting that despite huge money changing hands (Ed
Ruscha’s painting of the word “Noise” sold for $2,532,000).
These artists are all completely off the popular culture horizon
(read zero T.V. coverage).
299
Pilar word processed the first draft of this “A List” chapter last
night. It’s Sunday morning. She went to Saturday Mass so it’s
more relaxed than usual at the kitchen table. The kids are putting
on swimsuits while the following dialogue occurs:
301
I: “What did you think of the latest stuff I wrote?”
Pilar: “I think you are talking about money too much. You mention
so many famous artists but don't talk about their work. It’s just how
much money they get. It seems to me that that's all you pay attention to. And then when I tell you this, you don’t change the book,
you just write down what I say.”
I: “Have I distorted your comments?”
Pilar: “No, but I'm embarrassed at your being so, so...not humble.”
303
.
Chapter 12
Kinkade – The Painter of Light
305
If you saw the “Sixty Minutes” segment on Kinkade, this chapter
will resonate. I saw it in October 2001 and was floored. You can
buy it from the CBS store at 1-888-227-7999 for $29.95 plus
shipping. It’s television at its best.
307
The Hallmark soul mate of fine art, purveyor of some 300 permanent, one-man-show galleries, Thomas Kinkade, was signing
the backs of mountains of prints of his original oils. He was signing without looking, with a fistful of pens at the ready and minions pulling and stacking.
309
His paintings have it all—flowers, golden light, a biblical reference, his wife’s initials and most of all, cottages. Cottages with
at least four chimneys and a trail of smoke whispering from
each. This was home and hearth, Barney, and Teletubbies, silk
flowers, and drapes that coordinate, and he was richer than
Rockefeller. That’s my picture (before we cut it up) on Ross’
mantel.
311
My wife wouldn't go. She was against it all from the beginning
and admonished me as I left, “Don't get in trouble.” Thomas and
Patty went but didn't want their pictures taken. I was disappointed but not surprised. Thomas thought that what I was planning was unethical, and I was defensive. Patty liked my plan but
thought it would be prudent to lay low as well. We met in front of
the “Thomas Kinkade Painter of Light Gallery” in Scottsdale. I
had arrived 15 minutes early to check it out. When I walked in
everything felt right. What an operation. This was holistic merchandising. The store/gallery had a wood and stone façade, very
“cottagey”. Inside it was dark and welcoming. The paintings
were all in magnificent gold or polished wood frames. Everything
glowed and was hung in intimate viewing rooms. Dani, our sales
girl, was cordial. Pretty, but more on the sultry-side than Little Bo
Peep. She knew something was up, but it was also a sale.
313
My plan for the Kinkade and a mall Van Gogh was to neatly cut
up each and isolate a piece of it under glass in a 16-inch square
to be surrounded by shredded Enquirers in the case of the
Kinkade, and shredded national art magazines around the Van
Gogh.
315
I chose a classic cottage scene entitled, A Perfect Summer Day.
Horses on the lawn, a bench on the porch, apples in the tree, a
garden, impossibly colorful blossoms and beautiful light. The
sunlight through the trees on the thatched roof, sun on distant
mountains, highlights on the backs of the horses and his signature lamplight through the windows. Dani explained that
although a computer signs Kinkade’s name, the ink has his DNA
profile so the piece can be authenticated.
317
She used a chart to show us what a gallery proof was. The originals, which are not for sale, are at the top of the pyramid. At the
bottom are “standard numbered” copies of which there are
many. Of the total number of copies (i.e. lithographic transfers)
35% are gallery proofs, 20% artist proofs, 18% publisher’s
proofs, 8% renaissance editions and 4% are studio proofs.
Mine was a gallery proof. It had dabs of real paint over the flowers. The closer you get to a studio proof the more sophisticated
the artist assistant who applies the painted highlights.
319
It absolutely boggles my mind how successful the painter of light
has become. Try these numbers on for size. The original Perfect
Summer Day oil painting is not for sale. It was copied in three
sizes, mine at 18 x 27 is the smallest. My cost of $1,173.93 was
$150 more than the lowest price you could pay for a lowly
Standard Numbered edition. So let’s say that all the thousands
and thousands of much more expensive copies than mine were
magically also available for a mere $1,000. Hearing this you who
think a Perfect Summer Day is a perfect painting for your wall,
wouldn’t want anybody to have any copies. Guess how much
that fire sale lump sum purchase would cost you (that is to buy
up all the prints), and remember they’re all copies. A million? Try
$37,653,000. They are organized like McDonald’s wishes they
were.
321
my cousin Tim, who I never see, was in town and saw the studio. He ignored the fact that the picture was cut up and said,
“Oh, you have a Kinkade, I have one in my bedroom.” A coworker who was with him said, “Tim gave out Kinkade calendars
for Christmas.” Randy Lamb, from Empire, (pictured on page
114) came over, looked at The Perfect Summer Day in pieces and
said, “I got my wife a Kinkade for Christmas.” I am surrounded.
323
Anyway, he (Kinkade) had a formula that was working on a mind
boggling level and I was fascinated. He claimed to sell a million
dollars worth of product on QVC in one hour. After 20 years of
battling clients and feeling frustrated, here was someone who
was rolling with the flow, working the breadth of America, and his
customers were thrilled.
I was slipping into art history lectures, going to galleries and
museums and reading serious art criticism for hours every day.
But if measured by memory all of it didn’t pack the emotional
wallop that that one T.V. piece did. He had a jet and a subdivision and a huge factory. What a story! And the work looked like
the kitschiest Elvis paintings I ever saw.
325
In the beginning the artist that dominated my thoughts was Van
Gogh. I had two big coffee table tomes on him bristling with
Post It notes. I would always read his biography information first
in other art history books. What a life. What a story. I knew I
would do pieces inspired by him.
(left) Vincent Van Gogh, ©1969, Viking Press, Inc.
(right) Van Gogh A Retrospective, ©1986, Hugh Lauter Levin Associates, Inc.
327
We headed to the Painted With Oil store. It was a week after
Christmas and everything was 25% off. I asked the owner if he
had a Van Gogh self-portrait. He said yes, and found it instantly. It looked terrible. These copies were all hand-painted by art
students he said. Starry Night was impasto thick. The picture
was $74.25 and a fancy gold frame was an additional $96.75.
329
Two days have passed. Pilar is still upset. I’ve explained and
explained that I’m also cutting up a copy of Van Gogh’s Starry
Night and nobody’s concerned, but she’s still not buying it. I’m
not an angry young radical chopping it up with a machete.
We've glued in a black gator board backer to protect the canvas
as it’s cut. I’ve carefully worked out a 9" layout for both pieces
so that they coordinate. We didn’t steal it or photograph it or try
to paint a copy of it. We bought it. Besides, Kinkade is famous.
Don’t public figures have to accept a measure of mockery, mimicry and mudslinging as coming with their celebrity real estate?
So... What to do? The Kinkade looks great cut up. Not in a kooky
abstract-art-trying-to-be-controversial way, just graphically.
keep it laid out on (what else?) black velvet.
331
I
There are two issues to resolve. First, are there legal problems
with using pieces of his paintings in my work? Second, can I
deal with all his angry fans who see my piece as sacrilegious?
Did I mention one of his cottages has Jesus on the front porch?
My rebellious side would welcome the angry fan controversy but
I couldn’t bear an untoward remark reaching Pilar.
333
Legal-wise, Thomas suggested I talk to the former dean of the
ASU Law School, who’s done salons for Spirit of the Senses. We
got together for dinner and I emerged with new terms and the
uneasy feeling that it would be no fun getting sued even if I
thought I could win. And this is just the legal side, Pilar thinks it’s
wrong. So I decided to write Thomas (the rich one). At this writing, I’ve received a call from a cordial Director of Marketing, Nina
Wilcox, but the promised follow-up response from their attorneys has not been forthcoming.
Update...Today (April 29) I called and spoke to Nina’s boss’s
executive assistant Alexis who answered the phone with,
“Thanks for sharing the light.” Nina is no longer with the company. Update...I’m about two weeks from going to press (June 17)
and still no responses. Spoke to the raspy voiced Alexis two
more times and faxed the letter again. Nothing.
335
.
Chapter 13
Writing This Book
337
What you’re reading now began as more of a catalog than a
“book” book. I was at a Christmas party with many architects
and showed a small hand drawn mock-up of this book to
Melissa Farling, one of the owners of Volumes, an architectural
bookstore. She had been over and seen some of the art work. I
had only hoped the book might be sold in galleries and museum
bookstores. When she said she thought it would sell in regular
bookstores I began thinking of a non-art-audience.
339
When I was building sets for car catalogs and T.V. commercials
I did a very clean chipboard promotional piece. It was mostly a
picture book with almost no text, but a book none the less. You
can just see Pilar and I holding our oldest son Pau who was a
baby at the time. The long thin window held a Philips screwdriver to open the chipboard shipping box.
341
My next brochure for the set work was even more book-like. I
wanted it to have an industrial/motorcycle feel, so I used neoprene with snaps on the cover. It was expensive to produce, but
effective. Among the jobs it brought in was the Citroen catalogue
photography sets all the way from France. I knew that if I did a
book about my art experience, getting the binding and graphics
right would be important. I wasn’t sure how hard it would be to
write.
343
Pilar had some women over for brunch and brought them back
to see the studio. She told me that one of them was interested
in the art work and had invited us to have lunch at her house.
When the Sunday came I wished I didn’t have to go. It was a distraction. Her husband was a black man from Zimbabwe. That
was interesting. He turned out to have been a Rhodes scholar at
Oxford and was working as a project manager for the city. She
taught college English. Her mom had been a teacher and her
dad, Jack Evans, was a Milton scholar with a PhD who cofounded a respected prep school. He looked smart, distinguished, and very much what I thought a big shot professor
should look like. I told him I was writing a book and I thought it
would be a best seller. He laughed. I said I wanted to find the
best editor in the country to look over my shoulder and make
suggestions.
345
After lunch, we had everyone over to our place for dessert. I
knew they would be impressed. It’s not so much whether people
like the art work; it’s more that there’s a lot of it, and the studio,
for people who haven’t been there before, can be exciting all by
itself. I read a few paragraphs from the book, concentrating on
my voice, hoping they’d like it.
It started awkwardly. As I read, something else was going on.
There was giggling, then laughter. I hate being interrupted. I
paused and realized they were laughing with delight. When I
stopped reading, Jack’s comments hit me hard. He said, “Bill,
we’re academics and readers, essentially a tough audience. You
don’t need an editor. You have a voice. You’re keeping us interested and giving us the right amount of detail.” The others had
more nice things to say and I was in Heaven.
347
From the beginning, I saw getting this book printed, bound, marketed and distributed as entirely my responsibility. I thought writing the book would be easier than finding a publisher. I bought
six books on the subject and they confirmed my suspicions.
Getting someone else to put up the money would be difficult and
if they do, one can easily lose control of decisions such as cover
design, content, title, and how it will be promoted. Essentially my
reading convinced me that the big publishers will only promote
authors aggressively if they’re already famous. I will promote my
own book. Will I find an audience? I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be
like pictures of your kids, interesting to a very limited audience–you.
349
To promote the book myself, I needed publicity (free editorial
coverage because the media think the viewers or readers would
be interested) and advertising (very not-free advertisements,
potentially a bottomless pit). A magazine, Sources and Design,
did a story on the Empire project. They paid for the photography
and gave us the cover.
351
I called the publisher, Naomi Anderson, to ask about getting
more copies. 30 was the most she could spare, four free, the
rest at $4 each. She said she could have them delivered.
Wonderful. “Naomi,” I said, “What a great job you did on the
Empire article. We want you to deliver those copies yourself so
we can meet you and (I was thinking more and more about marketing) show you some art work.” Once again the stars crossed.
She came over and said she’d do an article on the art work to
come out September 15, if I’d give her a local exclusive on the
story. “This is exactly what we’re looking for editorially.
Something new. The work is great,” she said.
353
Naomi was nice. Not only did she never pressure me to buy ad
space, when I mentioned that possibility she demurred. So I
decided I definitely should. The obvious work to show was
Empire. I checked out their ad rates. They were charging $2,100
for a full-page ad. We got the cover plus three pages free, and
now they were going to do another article? So I explain all this
to John and he drops a bomb in my lap. “You should skip the work
and just run a picture of you,” he says. “No copy, no phone number. You’re involved in so many different things, anything you show
will be confusing. Is it going to be architecture, landscaping, contracting, or art?” I’m not on board, “What? Are you serious? How
embarrassing. Just me? No way. I’m going to pay for an ad that’s
just a picture of me with no work because I’m so cool?
355
John responds, “Okay, you could show work, run pictures of
Empire, or whatever. That’s what everyone does. Everyone is trying to create a memorable ad. Do you remember any of them?
Have any of the magazine ads you’ve run gotten you a job? The
art business is the business of branding. You are the commodity, not Empire or the art work. If they buy one of your panels it
will be because they want a piece of you. Why are your kids’
drawings precious only to you and a Picasso worth millions?
The problem is that people who shouldn’t be featuring themselves (like car dealership owners) are, and others that should
(like architects) aren’t. When you go to Richard Meier’s web site
the first thing you see is a picture of him.” I’m still uneasy but
pretty much convinced. John is right.
357
John took my picture and we glued it into the magazine. I looked
at it for over a week and thought I’d go ahead, until Pilar said
she’d be embarrassed. I decided to drop the whole idea and just
put in a picture of the book.
359
This is the ad we ended up sending in.
360
361
The satisfaction I dream of if this book were to become a bestseller isn’t money. I don’t see a way to make a penny on a book
that retails for $30. I have to be able to print, bind, publicize, and
ship it for $12. If printing is $7, binding $4 and the display and
shipping are $2, I’m already losing money and I haven’t put a
penny towards photography, Gary doing the page layouts,
advertising, distribution, and shipping. What I do expect is exposure for the work and a chance at vindication. I hope for success
despite all the people who didn’t write me back or return my
phone calls, and despite all the galleries that were condescending. Oliver mentioned the Beatles getting turned down early on
by a big British record label. That’s justice!
363
At the moment I’m feeling good about the layout of this book.
Text reversed out of a black field on the right, and photos on the
left with an underlined word acting as the caption. It’s 600
pages, but takes less than two hours to read cover-to-cover.
Pilar looks it over and says, “Putting the white letters on black is
bad. You need to change it. My eyes are getting dizzy. Have you
tried to read more than one page?” To you dizzy reader...If
you’ve read this far and like the book, I’d welcome a letter if you
feel like writing (Bill Tonnesen, c/o Artonnesen, P.O. Box 28580,
Tempe, AZ 85282). If you didn’t like it, tear out this page and
burn it in protest.
.
365
Chapter 14
My First Sale
367
May 4, 2002
Pilar: “Are you letting grow a goatee?” (English is a second language)
Bill: “Yeah.”
Pilar: “I don't like it. Your face is not shaped to have that.”
After saying how interesting the price tags of other artists’ works
are, how much am I asking for mine? Good question. Don’t know.
Should my prices be low enough to try to sell out the show so
that other galleries will want to show the work too? Whatever I
work out, It’ll be on the website, so go to www.artonnesen.com
if you’re interested.
369
I had seen this happen for a different reason at the big daddy of
New York galleries, Gagosian, with Cy Twombly’s “Le Panto”
show. “Price?” the guy at the desk answered to the question you
know I asked. “Nothing is available. It was sold before the show
opened,” he said. “All the work?”, I asked like the tourist I was.
“Do you know, even about how much they cost?”, I continued.
“Oh, I would have no idea,” he said. Bill the simpleton. I guess I
need to learn some gallery etiquette.
370
Art in America, February 2002
371
Yesterday, I met with Ron and Maxine to show them the latest art
work and discuss landscaping issues at their new house. I presented a plan to make a storm water retention basin into a
“Clock Monolith” with a ring of trees and rain water channeled (I
thought) cleverly. It was expensive but I was convinced it was
the right thing to do. The meeting was cordial but the idea went
nowhere.
373
This morning Ron called. I grabbed a pad of paper to take notes.
If he said something interesting, I wanted to get it on paper
before I forgot. Writing this book has left me identifying with the
writer’s expression, “everything is material.” So, guess what? I
just sold my first piece to Ron and Maxine! Two panels on a diptych armature.
375
I ran back to the house to tell Pilar and she said, “I can’t believe
they wanted the armature too.” Did I mention that my wife not
only doesn’t like the art work, she doesn’t like the way I hang the
art work? Sounds like the divorce train is headed into the station? Won’t happen, ever.
377
I said on page one, “I have not tried to sell a single piece.” Nine
months later I still haven't, but it happened anyway! I am very,
very grateful to all the people who have made kind, even passionate remarks about the art work on the other side of this
book, but...
I can’t tell you how happy I am that these major, sophisticated
art collectors (without being asked) stepped up to the plate and
are willing to pay real money for the work. The fact that they’re
not my relatives and are serious collectors makes it seem even
more important.
379
So...fame and fortune? Famous I’m not, and sometimes I feel
discouraged, but on this happy day I feel like no single thing can
stop me. Thank you Pilar and thank you Ron and Maxine.
381
.
Appendix
Hawaiian Boy
383
(A friend and neighbor I run with, Jeff Andelora, teaches creative writing and Shakespeare at a huge community college near us. I asked him
to read the nearly completed manuscript. At the start of this chapter he
wrote, “Hmmm...Digression–” in the margin. At the end of the chapter he wrote, “This section is at various times fascinating and beautiful, and as your friend and neighbor, I love it. But, as a reader, I’m
wondering how it fits–”. As I again read the whole thing, I think he’s
right. But, it’s all written and all the pictures are in place and I never
said I was a professional writer and I don’t have a publisher to say no,
so it’s staying, albiet in last place as an appendix.)
385
When I was young I lived in Hawaii.
387
I was christened William Barry Keliihoolulahui Napoleon.
389
My mom had married a local Hawaiian. He was a wannabe football player and a beach bum with an aggressive-compulsive personality.
391
When I was a baby, she remarried a WWII veteran named Bud
Tonnesen and we moved to the mainland when I was about ten.
He was careful with money and had a handsome scar on his
thumb where the lawn mower had split it open. Its shape was
completely normal but the scar ran right through the nail and
never went away.
393
My kindergarten through 12th grade experience was troubled. I
refused to get out of the car my first day of school, then would
not eat my lunch unless I was served in a barrel away from the
other kids. Marbles were popular and I remember longing to
increase my tiny stash of “clearies”. When my mom bought me
a whole bag of them, not on a birthday or Christmas, but for no
apparent reason; I thought I had hit the jackpot. Even at sixyears-old my social skills were screwed up. To ensure that my
classmates would like me I tossed all my new marbles up in the
air and watched everyone scramble after my generosity. My
judgment became worse in high school.
395
A high school guidance counselor described me as socially
immature. I was sent to another school for problem kids and
later permanently expelled altogether. I went back to Hawaii at
19 to track down my biological father and found an egocentric
skirt chaser. I saw my dark side looking back at me.
Nature/nurture.
397
The move away from home was not pretty. My parents saw me
stealing my bedspread and a bunch of canned food so they
called the police. For some reason my troubles never included
substance abuse and to date I’ve never had marijuana, tobacco,
or a sip of beer, wine, hard liquor, or even coffee. I suspect some
people might think I’ve abstained because I’m so interested in
the Mormon church. Not true. I was not religious and didn’t know
anything about Mormons as an adolescent. I’m not sure why in
those hippie heydays I wasn’t a drug guy. My high school was
full of it. The only reason that I wasn’t was maybe fear of being
out of control.
399
So this high school drop-out began trimming palm trees door-todoor. Soon it was a G.E.D. and on to college to become a trial
attorney. Perfect. Speak in front of an audience and be a big
shot. I took two public speaking classes and thought I was great.
Both teachers disagreed. I discovered Ayn Rand and switched
to philosophy. Six years later and without a degree, I concentrated on my tree trimming business, which was becoming a
landscaping company.
401
Years passed and I prospered but never felt particularly secure
professionally. A photographer that a local magazine hired years
before to shoot one of my jobs saw two white houses I had
designed and hired me to go to Spain to design sets for a BMW
car shoot.
403
I was scouting a beach location and spotted what I took to be (I
know not why) an American girl walking by the water. I called out
to her. She was local, not American, and spoke no English.
Luckily I had José, a professional translator, with me. The girl
was tall, composed, and hard to make eye contact with. I invited her to come back in a few days to see the shoot. I found out
later that she wasn’t going to come but for her brother’s encouragement.
405
Pilar and her girlfriend, Asun, showed up with her brother and
sister-in-law. This photo was taken the following winter in the
same area.
407
I went to meet her father who, like her brother, was a medical
doctor. After I returned home I studied Spanish like a maniac and
drew “I love you” cards every day for about nine months.
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Maria Pilar Ricart Hernandez became Pilar Tonnesen.
411
We were married in the Capilla De La Cinta, the cathedral of her
town, Tortosa. She has no interest in the business and little in art.
She measures my stature by how much time I spend with our
kids. If you ever meet her don’t talk big. It will backfire on you.
She is the second least pretentious person I know. The least is
Dennis’ brother Gary.
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My boys are drawing, and I suspect, much better than I was able
to at their age. Pau Tonnesen, age nine
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and Gaspar Tonnesen, age seven.
417
If you’re upset that I cut up the Kinkade, join the club. My wife
said she wouldn’t give anyone in Spain a copy unless I took that
part out. Nevertheless, I think she’s impressed that I’ve gotten
this far. The phrase I’ve heard repeatedly is, “I don’t know how
you have the nerve to do all this.” This is our family, Pilar, Cinta,
Gaspar, Pau, and myself (clockwise order and grammar).
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.
Epilogue
There’s an odd disconnect between the writing and reading of a
book. I naively imagine people buying this when the ink's still
moist. But you might not read these words for months or years
when everything has changed. Things are moving so fast. Each
www.artonnesen.com
week new developments seem integral to the story but I have to
stop writing to get it printed. John and I were talking about this
and he had a great idea. We'll post interesting things that come
up on the web site. So that's the plan. If you want to read the latest, click on "What's New".
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Acknowledgment
To our great friends Thomas Houlon and Patty Barnes, directors
of Spirit of the Senses, the arts club to which we are enthusiastic
members, for their wit and encouragement. I now button my top
button too.
423
Acknowledgment
Gary Hill (left), long time friend and colleague. Graphics-wise the
only person I can collaborate with on anything, much less a big
project like this book turned out to be. Ross Burkhardt (middle);
amazingly versatile master craftsman. “Key person” would be
an understatement. And John Ball (right); architect, artist and
colleague. Always my first choice to talk with about the work
and a truly gifted teacher.
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Acknowledgement
Kim Popple. Knows little about art, quiet as a mouse, perches
on the very edge of her chair all day typing a million words per
minute and answering the phone with the sweetest voice.
Someday she’ll leave to have kids and we’ll crash and burn. It’s
conceivable someone else could handle all the things she
does—but also get along with me? Impossible…
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