Art History.....Chip's
It all began when I was 5 years old. The Philadelphia Sunday Inquirer issued poster-size
prints of all of the characters in the Comics section. I was nuts over Peanuts at the time.
Imagine how thrilled I was when I unfolded the pages to find none other than Snoopy. I
immediately grabbed an unused manila book cover and drew a frame around the edges.
Holding a No. 2 pencil and 3 Crayola crayons, I set to work. I produced a likeness that
wowed the entire family. That drawing hung in my father’s lab space for the remainder of
his life.
It was during that kindergarten year that I was introduced to carpentry by my grandfather.
He’d invited me to work alongside him as he built a kitchen pantry. He taught me to use a
saw and a square and the importance of “measure twice, cut once”. For Christmas that
year, I was given my first real tool kit and so began a series of woodworking projects and
lost afternoons tackling unnecessary, but tolerated, home “improvements”. All of my
hammering, sawing, banged thumbs, and splinters eventually led to being a nail man on a
home-building project in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania.
I honestly did not draw with any kind of regularity until I was around 16. There were
random endeavors when the mood would strike: a charcoal rendering of the cover of “My
Side of the Mountain”, oil on plywood of a frontiersman, the face of Jesus, Roberto
Clemente, and a Sinatra portrait for my girlfriend’s father. I got to be known as “the kid
who draws good”.
It wasn't until my love for Music consumed me that I was inspired enough to sit still and
paint the “Rock and Roll” that was constantly blaring through my midnight headphones. I
guess you could call it the beginning of some sort of discipline, but for hours on end I
would brush oil paint, push powdery pastels, and practice calligraphy. I was at it enough to
earn a place in my high school Art class where I redesigned album covers and experimented
with all kinds of graphic media. As a senior, I was encouraged to gather a portfolio and
go to an interview at the Philadelphia College of Art. That portfolio earned me a
scholarship to begin the summer before freshman year. I was thinking, all the while, that I
would go into Graphic Design and do Art for the likes of Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin.
On the initial walk-through tour, something clicked for me when I entered the wood shop in
the Fine Woodworking Department. This seemed to be the place to combine my artistic
talent and my love of building, carving, and shaping things. I felt at Home. I would have to
reconsider my major.
Foundation year was all about drawing, 2D and 3D design. I delved into “life drawing”
for the first time, sketching nude models and still-lifes. It frustrated many students who
were paying thousands of dollars to not be practicing anywhere near their chosen major.
However, in the middle of the second semester, we all began to “get it”. We were learning
how to see, how to look at things artistically.
I began sophomore year as a Fine Woodworking major. I was finding myself, and finding
myself thrilled at the prospect of becoming a craftsman. I took elective courses in
metalsmithing and glass blowing. On the side, I continued to do portraits of my Rock and
Roll heroes. I earned a little money painting people’s jackets with whatever band or artist
they were into. Mostly, I was immersed in the Expressive Arts.
By chance I came upon a book in the library entitled “Drawings by Troubled
Adolescents”. I sat on the floor in the aisle and read it for over two hours. I was
completely blown away and immediately went to the registrar’s office and doubled my
major. I was now a craft major with a specialization in Art Therapy. I was even more
Home.
I dove into my schoolwork and tried to deal with all the wild things that a college in Center
City Philadelphia had to offer. I was a Resident Advisor in the dorms while juggling the
trials and tribulations of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.
I made it through just fine. I went to work in a cabinet shop, restoring antiques and
building custom installations. A few years later, I moved to the San Francisco Bay area
and enrolled as a graduate student at JFK University, majoring in Clinical Psychology
with a specialization in Expressive Arts Therapy. Having already acquired a BFA in
Psychoanalytic Art Therapy, I chose to pursue Music Therapy. Moving 3000 miles from
home and finding myself surrounded by an amazing natural and social environment, I was
“drawn to painting”. I bought canvas boards and completed about fifty paintings over the
next few years. It was a bold effort, the ideas were far better than the actual paintings. It
trickled down to a random few before I stopped altogether.
I traveled to Paris some years later and chased down the works of my favorite sculptor,
Rodin. It was in the Louvre that I became deeply inspired and made a conscious choice
that upon my return, I would buy a stretched canvas and paint a human figure posed
dramatically in a surreal atmosphere. I worked hard at it, perhaps too hard. I had gone
about it all wrong. I’d put the product in front of the process. I wanted to have
accomplished something that was beyond my ability. When the product fell short of my
unrealistic expectations, the inspiration vanished as quickly as it came. It was truly a false
start.
A few years later, as fate would have it, I relocated back to Philadelphia. I found myself
alone in a big, empty house with lots of time on my hands. I put them to work and haven’t
stopped since. I’ve literally filled the entire space with my paintings. When I ran out of wall
space, I took to the ceiling. It’s The Artcave. It’s my Home.
So there you have it. Take a look around.