I Didn't Measure Up

Dad tinkered in the basement fixing things. Mostly electric motors which he retrieved from trips to the dump. Mom always considered it a good Saturday when Dad returned from the dump empty handed. Trips to the dump were to get rid of the ashes from our coal burning furnace and finding old burnt-out motors was dad's reward.

With a family of seven, washing machines were in use a lot. While dad tinkered in the basement, mom worked at the sewing machine making our clothes. At first it was a foot-powered machine. I remember how tickled mom was to get the new motor-powered Singer. New dresses and shirts were coming every week. I still got hand-me-downs, but with less wear. Had two older brothers who got the new shirts.

An average evening my older sister, Annie, was in the den playing one of the pianos. My younger sister, Cathy, was doing homework in the girl’s room. Oldest brother, Michael, was at the dining room table doing his homework. Francis, my second older brother, was fixing his bike in the basement. Me? I was laying on the living room floor looking at the illustrations in the magazine "Boys Life,” my textbooks laying next to me. Mom would call out asking if every one was doing their homework. The piano playing would stop and I'd close my magazine and only the clatter of the sewing machine would be heard. I'd do just enough homework to get by then copy a drawing from my Walter Foster Art Book, “How to Draw Horses.” Wore that book out copying those drawings.

When summer came, Mom bought me my second Walter Foster Art Book, “How to Draw Dogs,” and Dad bought a baseball glove for me. At first, I wore the glove only - no one to play with. Michael had a paper route and his books, Francis had his paper route and his bike. I  put the glove away and took my sketchbook out. Drew grasshoppers and cicadas and Mr. Koos, our neighbor, napping in his garden. Took it with me when I went with my Granddad, but was too busy hauling water to the tomato plants to get in any drawing.

Got a lot of drawing in during the school year though. During class I hid my drawing behind Tom Erath, who always sat up straight. Of course I never knew where we were in our textbook when it came my turn to read... All my teachers compared me to my older brother Michael, who all through grade school and high school was the perfect student. I didn’t measure up. I just could not get drawing out of my head.         

Life's Lessons

Wisdom comes from life experiences, and not always one's own. Mr. Welna was the owner of the first gallery I was accepted into, he was also the lettering teacher at the American Academy of Art in Chicago. He saw how bad I was at lettering and had me moved to oil painting class. He also saw how unworldly I was.

Moving to New York was the answer he said. I learned things alright… like the lady on 10th Ave had something else in mind when she asked me for a date. And some ladies in New York weren't ladies at all. A store advertising “artist models” wasn’t prepared for a client who really wanted to draw. I thought it was strange that I had to sign a paper saying I wasn't a police officer. I also learned that adult magazine stores do not carry American Artist Magazine. I was naive, to say the least…

I was learning things just trying to survive in New York. I also learned from my models. It was me being nervous that began my way of working. I could not take the quiet in the studio when I had a model. To relax myself I engaged in conversation all the while they were posing. Lionel taught me the history of Vietnam and why we had no business being there. Kim taught me how different life is in Vietnam. She studied music at Juilliard. She told me how she got by in New York - getting men to buy her a meal then running out on them before they got what they were expecting. Julie persuaded me to visit a retirement home and read to the people living there. Conditions there weren't the best. I got to know my models, and many were good people.

Over the years I have heard some interesting stories, some nice, some not so nice. I have refrained from repeating those stories; they are confidences. Sometimes I just like to make people aware of why ladies pose for me. Raising kids alone, they need the income. Buying textbooks, paying for tuition, and car repairs are a few reasons. One brings sandwiches for the homeless who hang around my building. Another bought a coat for a kid in need of one. Some tell me about the subjects they are studying. The lives my models lead, how they got to where they are and what they do has taught me more about life than I could have learned without them.