I was given TO PHILOSOPHICAL ideas and day dreaming as a child. My mother encouraged me to be me which I found very helpful along life's way. My father used to call me the professor even when I was in grade school. Sort of disparaging name as in the famous film The Blue Angel where "the professor" becomes a clown chasing after Marlena Dietrich .. European working class people like my Dad see professor as someone whose a sophist and a minor authority figure, an academic. Of course I just had a very active mind and imagination and I was very visual.
Babyface is a blessing and a bit of a curse. Indeed the whole idea of good looking people having a leg up in the workplace. When I first taught at the art college I was 24 years old and looking much younger than that, my sense of things was my destiny was with the students, since the core faculty was rather older. I was used for photo ops to make the school look younger more of the times, at the time I didn't realize the degree to which advertising and promotion occupied the minds of the administrators.
Suffice it to say your blogger Herr Franz Lars Gaard nee Kivala - Prince of Finland has a bit of gout one might say a terminal affliction chronic at best he never seems to get ill he is rather instead ill in many different ways. Starting with his sick mind where someone turned up the color on the television set and left it there til the tv was dead in the alley smoldering after a small fire @ 3131 First Avenue South when Max was asleep on the couch, sweet Maxie almost a little bear so cute adorable beloved.
The portrait of Khadra painted by my spouse Pamela has inspired me lately. It's painted using a technique by which the tan paper becomes the color of the model's skin. It's Asian in practice but Lautrec copied it the technique in both lithography and painting. It lends a theatre like mood to a piece. It's a cheap trick when done badly but when done well it's magical as here in Khadra a Somali friend of Pamela. The pursuit of the exotic was a big idea in the Romantic painting in France at the time of Delacroix. He and his comrades went to Tangiers and North Afrika.
How I escaped an artless world. Of course no one escapes this artless world completely myself included.
1st jpg/pic pony saved from destructive impulse.
2nd Portrait of Kristen 1999 through frame glass.
Artpolicecomics was a shared fantasy, it began in the art school and overtime spread about a considerable space. I think a desire existed for an art journal that was more flexible more funny and darker than what existed at the time . It failed to live up to the fantasies it evinced, it was simply not enough to contain the richness of that fantasy. Some of this was money we simply never had enough to improve the publications, we never found a publisher or even a donor patron type. So like self pubs everywhere we depended on our own resources.
No. 1 The Anti-Sculpture League Philosophy Faves
No 2. View of 1979 collage ( Collection G Zimmer)
No. 3. Day-Glo Sephiroth 1976-8 acrylic Collection MIA
N0.4 - half page ad for Poison and Candy Artforum Feb. 2012
Where it maybe said that yes nothing works quite as well as persuasion with yummies.
If the world was about to vanish I'd be the one to do an art show. But the world dies slowly like everything on this planet.
Saw Chris Karcher and his son Friday at Walker Art Center. The boy is a fan. And it was fun to show them the exhibit. Chris had a drawing in the show a very fabulous old Artpolice piece in pen and ink from 1980. It is truely one of my great works of youthful Frankie Gaard. The painting is there too and it looks good but for me the drawing has a cathetic charge like bolt of inspirations.
I was writing about my notebooks and the turning of mere paper and ink into dinero. I'm going to shoot some more from the notebooks now that they are here. The books were on loan to Walker for 2 years. So I have been looking at them and thinking what I want to shoot. Some early books are already yellow. It's easy to tell when I'm broke by the materials and wild contents. The whole of the notebooks is thousands of pages. Going back to the early 1970's or before. A sort of incoherent diary, written and drawn by a part-time madman and professor.
My father spoke with an accent from his native country, it reminded me that their was a world beyond the shores of our red white and blue land. Indeed it wasn't all that unusual my playmates across the alley Magnus and Erik were also born in Norway like my dad. Many immigrant parents were anxious for their children to be as American as possible because they understood being a foreigner was not good in the post war days of the red scare. The administration of Dwight Eisenhower was fraught with passive aggressive realities.