AbouT BOB

I view painting as a craft as if I was building a boat or house. Each painting starts with such hope. Eventually there is a moment the painting grabs the brush & paints itself. I was that kid in school that a teacher found a prominent place to display his art on parents-teachers night. In hindsight it had to be hard on the other parents. I’m pretty sure the other kids could care less. As time went on I became annoyed with the childless drawings. In college I signed up for art classes. The 1st class the teacher said “draw what you feel” & left the room. That went on for 3 weeks. The teacher came in said paint what you feel & leaves. I was glad my parents weren’t paying my tuition. Moving globs of paint around the canvas was considered art. In my eyes it might be therapy, but it wasn’t art. Through luck I was introduced to good teachers such as Marvin Werlin. He was self-taught. The oils just flowed out of his brushes. Marvin was like a carpenter. The good ones always make it look easy.

Other 6 week classes came & went. Mostly the purpose of the class was to support an artist that couldn’t support themselves by painting & had to teach. They resented any time spent teaching. What an awkward arrangement.

The next real teacher was Sadie Valeri. I learned about underpainting, direction of light, cool & warm & so many more things. I learned a whole new vocabulary. I learned a good painting wasn’t good luck.