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Throw in some German and Irish, and I guess you could say I'm your typical American mutt... |
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As for my upbringing, my dad was a machinist for Grumman Aerospace , my mom a smartass housewife from Brooklyn who worked on and off as a waitress over the years. |
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BTW, she had four older brothers, which meant I had a bunch of wiseass Uncles to show me the ropes as I grew up, too. |
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And so, I learned the mystic arts of both the New York City Putdown and Long Island Sarcasm from a group of Wise(ass) Ancient Masters. How cool is that? |
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Now I'm no psychologist, but I think my parents proved to be the perfect combination, and from a young age both sides of my brain were well-nurtured... |
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Want proof? My dad taught me tools, cars, building things, bikes, sports, drawing, that kind of stuff. |
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From my mom I got words, writing, how to use language and humor, most importantly, using them to defend yourself or attack when you need to. |
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My dad solved problems analytically, my mom solved them emotionally, which I realize is your basic Venus/Mars kind of thing. Still, I'd like to think I do a bit of both... |
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And so, I write, draw, and paint with my left hand, but throw, bowl, bat, hammer, swordfight, and play racket sports with my right. |
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For what it's worth, I can punch, pinch, tickle, scratch, give the finger, or pound my fist on the table with either, and when I clap my hands, swim, play bongos or harmonica, try to strangle someone, or dig a hole in the yard like a dog, I usually use both... |
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Speaking of drawing, my early creativity was channeled entirely through drawing. Well ok, that and coloring Easter eggs once a year... |
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As far back as I can remember, I would draw anytime and anywhere. Mostly soldiers, tanks, battleships, helicopters, submarines, and fighter planes all engaged in fierce combat. |
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Now, before you go reading anything unusually violent into any of this, keep in mind they were almost always defending the Earth (and Mankind) from terrrible alien space ships shooting death rays down on us, or other assorted scary monsters... |
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As my airplane drawings got better, my dad started taking them in to work with him, and showing them to his friends and some of the the execs at the plant. |
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The biggest thrill I ever got from this was one time when I was home from school sick for a couple of days. I was bored, so I drew a bunch of pictures of the famous US Navy fighter jets, The Blue Angels. |
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Grumman provided the fighter planes for The Blue Angels at the time, and our family went to see them perform at least once a year at air shows on Long Island. My brothers and I all loved them. |
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Anyway, my dad brought the drawings in to work as usual, and someone who was someone at Grumman liked them so much, they gave my dad some really cool Blue Angel scale models to give to me. |
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Not kits, but already built and on stands. Needless to say, I felt better in a hurry... |
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My drawing eventually evolved into a more figurative and more realistic style. While the other kids always accused me of tracing my pictures, my teachers could spot the flaws and imperfections, which was a good thing, as they knew I was really drawing by sight... |
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The only reason I even mention any of this (as there are tons of folks that draw way better than I do) is that to this day, people I know seem suprised when they find out I can draw pretty well. |
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If you knew how many times I've been told, "Wow. I mean, I knew you were a good photographer. I just never knew you had real artistic ability..." |
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That used to bother me (backhanded compliment at its best, eh?), but now it just makes me smile. Truth is, I don't see much distinction between the two. To be good at either, you need to be able to see... |
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Speaking of photography, you may be wondering how early on I became aware of and interested in it. |
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Hard to say, but I do recall a class trip in elementary school to the Museum of Natural History in New York City, and while all the other kids bought dumb stuff in the gift shop, I had just enough money to purchase a small glass prism. |
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The entire train ride home, I was totally absorbed and facsinated with the way light shone through the glass. |
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Hmmm...shape of things to come? |
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BTW, that reminds me of a joke I made up as a kid. One day in school, the teacher asked the class, "Does anyone know what a prism is?" |
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To which I quickly replied, "Sure. That's where they keep the convex..." |
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Ah, lens humor... |
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I guess I took the usual amount of snapshots growing up, but I didn't begin to get serious about photography until I became a student at The University of Buffalo. |
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What's odd is that I started out there as an Architecture major. A few weeks into my first semester, I met with their Academic Advising Department, only to find out (quite surprisingly) that Buffalo didn't have an Architecture Program. |
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That's right, boys and girls. In one of the great career boners of all time, my high school Guidance Counselor helped me choose a college that didn't even offer the degree progam I wanted to study. |
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Well, I learned a life lesson very quickly, and took a situation that could have potentially been devistating and turned it into one of the best career choices I ever made. |
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Still awake? Go to page two... |
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| Hey, don't blame me! It's their fault... |
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Age 2: future smartass New Yorker. Yeah, like we need another one...
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| Age 4: a quiet, clean-cut little gentleman. Probably the last time in my life I'd be all three at the same time... |
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| Me is smart. Here's proof. |
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| Elementary school: the good guys... |
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| The bad guys... |
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| One of my "Blue Angel" drawings... |
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| Getting better? Middle school. Can I "shade" a winged horse's butt, or what?... |
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| Good enough? Barely. One of the pieces I submitted that got me accepted into the Art Department at the University of Buffalo. |
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