A friend of mine who had stored a bunch of my student art in Chicago moved to New York and threw this work in a dumpster. I didn't mind this as it was work that wasn't relevant anymore but it does remind us that art can have a less than lovely destiny at the landfill. I've heard many artists lament the destiny of their art; that the art is destined to the dumpster. I mean people do give up and get rid of the stuff they made. I've saved alot with some just giving way to life's destructive realities. I start my professional career in 1967 which means I've been active for 47 years. Some of the work is dispersed all over the U.S. and some is outside the country but because of health and career troubles I didn't penetrate the world the way a more successful artist do. But I don't think I'm unsuccessful as much as I tried to do things a different way in particular I made political and sexual concerns central to my practice. Artpolice however it maybe seen in the long run was an attempt to reach beyond the local scene towards a sort of global audience. The fact that the art zine is still traded and collected points to it's uniqueness and it's continuing relevance as an artwork. And the Artpolice Exhibitions really gave all the collective members a chance to be seen in several different cities and venues in the U.S. and Europe. Even with the attendant controversies these exhibitions were critical to keeping the project vibrant. The solidarity we felt as a group was enhanced by these spectacles. We created a new way for artists to address an audience and participate in art as a more open and mystical experience. As for myself I began to rethink my artistic practice partly because of poverty and because my sense of political justice pointed in the direction of a harsher presentation of my ideas. Many of my generation felt war was not an appropriate way for nations to act in the world and it was becoming more clear that we were at odds with the politics of the times maybe with the politics of all times. As well the HIV-AIDS issue was all the time on our minds, so our little art comic grew balls and called them as we saw them. But always in an artful way. My life was tough moving frequently and often penniless selling my best work at discount if at all. I survived but lost alot of teeth and comrades and friends along the way.It's a curious thing that paintings, quite large paintings are in ice cold garages whilst others are in way cozy museums amusing the lovers of art. What becomes of art is often what becomes of the artist.
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