Recently, I struggled thru the movie Basquiat, directed by Julian Schnabel.  ( by the way the emperor is truly naked).  The movie, while attempting to elevate jean michel to mythic status as an artist, became for me an indictment of the New York Art Scene of the ’80s.  It is interesting how much I had forgotten of that old struggle.  It was a time when I was attempting to find representation for my master, Antonio Salemme (1892-1995) in the City and I myself had begun to paint.  The movie seen today, helps me to put a perspective on that whole thing by giving a very human face to all the players. 





      It is hard not to have compassion for the young creative Basquiat.  Of course the movie starts out with the obligatory references to Picasso and Van Gogh.  Obviously Basquiat is neither, altho he was inspiring in an odd sort of way.  It appears to me, that the phenomenon of Basquiat was the intelligence he used to enter into the decadence of that aesthetic.  SEEING what was going on around him, it isn’t difficult to see how he could project himself into that aesthetic in a way that would blow the minds of the degenerates that peopled the scene.  There is a certain beauty to the abstract compositions, the free use of color, the largeness of the canvases, the stupidity of the collectors.  (Is this still going on?) Yes.  You are out there.


     It is an instance of people feeding off each other, convincing themselves of their genius while basking in delusions.  Like Warhol having his friend piss on a canvas on the floor after drinking German beer, which was good for the ‘oxidation paintings’ he was making.  Basquiat asks, ‘Why don’t you paint it yourself Andy?’  Andy replies, ‘I don’t like the German Beer.’  Now that is absolutely hilarious.  And really this is the whole movie, funny if it weren’t so pathetic with ego driven absurdity and the need to be sophisticated, in that hip but perverse NY way.






     Anyway, I am nearly finished painting on the walls of the women’s bathroom at Double Adobe Campgrounds, in McNeal, AZ.  Outside Bisbee.  It has been fun, and I am thinking that Basquiat, on the other side, has a stint that he has been doing as the patron saint of true art.  Having died in 1988 of a heroin overdose, obviously dazed and confused and who knows what else as a result of his early undeserved fame and glory as well as whatever demons of creativity and ego possessed him.  I am thinking he may very well be my patron saint.  After watching the movie and Schnabel’s presentation of the  man, I felt a bit more loosened from my mundane moorings, and this in turn allowed me to sail into my mural painting with greater vigor and vision, as well as working more and enjoying greater.  
     Jean Michel, I thank you, for your change of heart and for your creative soul.  I am sorry you became food for the great city, but appreciate your present efforts at making things right! 






   

   I am seeing the humanity of Warhol and his tribe.  How you took care of one another.  How you all loved one another, how misplaced your aesthetic visions are, how destructive you have been on culture and art the world over.  I am of a different tribe, and outwardly WE ARE ENEMIES, while  essentially, and certainly when you are able to appreciate and understand the true nature of painting and culture, ( I could help you with that by the way),  We are united in the common spirit of humanity and love.  Still,  I have been thinking, I just might start going Apache on your ass.  Yours in eternal bliss…