The world never stopped moving
I grew up in Queens, a few minutes from some of the best museums and galleries in the world. I always loved art, but it never felt like part of my world. Art was something other people got to make and hang in their homes.
When I was 42, I had a brain bleed. Doctors found a malformation in my cerebellum, and since that day I’ve lived with what I call a visual disturbance. The best way I can describe it: imagine walking through life looking through your phone’s video camera. Nothing ever looks completely still. And when I close my eyes, I see colors and shapes.
A few years later, I went down to my basement and decided to paint. I brought the painting upstairs to show my wife and daughters, and they loved it. It was different from anything I’d made before. It became the second painting I ever sold.
The colors I see with my eyes closed and the constant movement I see with them open are all in the work.
How I paint. I crank up the music and throw, smear, brush and rub paint onto the canvas until I have an abstract I’d be happy with on its own. Then I look for the characters, faces and shapes hiding inside it and bring them to life with markers, ink, spray paint or a brush. Each piece starts out just for fun and ends up with its own meaning.