Hired4Genius, my butt… What’s your credentials? Hmmm?

This is so informal, that I’ll just start at the beginning! So, here goes;

Allow me to introduce myself…

Born to a nomadic American Military family, I began my education in Japan and from an early age I was encouraged to travel!

(Look… will you PLEASE just go away!) LOL!

Bringing home new languages, guitars, a variety of strays, strange objects, strays, paintings, (did I mention strays?) and photographs from the cameras and paintbrushes (that have rarely left my hands since I was old enough to pick them up), neither friends nor family were surprised at my decision to make a career in the world of “the arts, ” all the while craftily scheming to fulfill my obsession and take my rightful place as “Supreme Emperor of the Planet.”

(Hell, most of my friends are surprised that I’m not rotting away in some gawd-forsaken prison!)

A few decades later I still run my life, play, and work from what’s left of my studios.

(A hurricane ate them, honest!)

I am not there often, however.

(I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to avoid all the process servers, the authorities, and outraged parents/uncles/cousins/assassins!)

The Feds call it “flight to avoid prosecution,” I call it “the travel bug.” Whatever it is, it  has truly taken hold. My passion for great music, outstanding photography, intense artwork, breathtaking travel, incredibly interesting literature and literary exploits into sheer genius, biting social and political commentary  and intoxicating landscape art have knitted well with commissions from all over the globe.

I know what you’re thinking… this guy is a card-carrying dumbass. Well, that’s been said a time or two, usually by people who lack vision, and passion. And you’re not one of those, are you?

Here are some of my qualifications;

My parents wanted me to be either a (a) Military Dictator, (b) an architect, (c) a doctor, or (d) to inherit fabulous wealth, that I’d naturally share with them. I never listened to my parents. They were “war-mongering jarheads.” Hello? Anybody in there? I mean, really… What in the world can you learn from a pair of planet-maiming miscreants bent on destruction? I learned how to take a punch, and how to drink.

(Well, I ain’t mastered the “drinking part, yet… Sometimes I puke. There, I said it. You satisfied now? Huh?)

You see, my parents were creatures of the “world is coming to an end tomorrow, because of those damned Russian Commies!” mindset. Survival was everything. So, social skills, trendy clothes, and just generally fitting in with all the other kids, was discouraged. My father wanted “killers.”

(My mother wanted “killers… who didn’t get caught.” She was worried about what the neighbors might think!)

And, what’s the best way to influence an impressionable mind, hmmm? Well, since we lived in Southern California (Dad had returned to the USA to kill new recruits, instead of “the enemy…”), and it was “The Seventies,”  naturally they dressed us like “narcs.” All the other kids wore bell-bottoms,  polyester shirts with big lapels, and sneakers. We wore bluejeans, white t-shirts, and black spit-shined “Wellington” boots, with metal plates on the heels. You know, the ones with the straps and the big metal buckles on them? Remember? If that wasn’t enough, while other kids listened to “rock n’ roll,” we were forced to listen to  GOO (“the Grand Old Opry”). Our friends never came over, because we lived on base, and that was NOT cool.

Like we had any friends. According to our parents, all the kids we knew were parented by “dope-smoking hippie type commie bastards.” Talk about being outcasts!

Thus, in our house, those below the age of 18 yearned and pined for only one thing…  We just wanted to grow up enough to flee the nest, like our butts were being chased by “Death.” So, we did just that…

(Confidentially, “Death” can run pretty damned fast, but if you wrap yourself around a Kawasaki 175, and head for the hills, you’ll leave him in the dust…)

Let’s leap ahead, shall we? You can imagine what my puberty was like, dressed like that…

I’ve flapped from the handlebars all over the rock! And, I’ve done it in some of the most incredible places you can imagine, too! Like where, you ask? Well, I’ve mountain-biked down glaciers in Patagonia, I have! And I’ve been known to visit the Berbers in the Atlas Mountains for a cup of tea, and I love photographing fossil dinosaurs on the edge of the Sahara, and watching the Samburu dancers in the deserts of northern Kenya, while dreaming of the Mayans in the shadows of Chichen Itza, Flamenco dancers in Andalucia, and polo players in the Hindu Kush, for instance…

(That was one heck of a messed-up dream! No more applesauce and Tabasco before bedtime, I tell you!)

Anyway, these all seem to demonstrate the diversity of my work, my dimensia, and my life experience, depending on who you ask, I suppose.

“Bu-bu-bu-tttttt…” you ask, “why should I throw in my lot with the likes of you?”

Well, Virginia, I suspect it’s because…

You can identify with me! You know you can…

You see, I don’t really care about being “popular,” I care about being happy. I’m not really a a genius, I just play one on TV.

Okay, okay, actually, I’ve taken every IQ test on the planet, and it turns out that I AM a genius. It seems that schools are paid extra, for students that are (gasp!) smart. I’ve evidentally used my IQ to furnish a few teacher’s lounges, in my day, I’m thinking… And any test that makes me a “genius,” well… Man, talk about “low standards!”

But, in my “daytime” gig, I’m just an “architectural consultant,” and sometimes a  modern artist, suffering the world right along with everyone else. I blend right in. except when I have a camera in tow. And then, I’m “paparazzi!”

(That’s just what I tell the cops, when they catch me taking “candid photos” of the girl next door, through her bedroom window… Turns out that cops hate celebrities even more than peeping toms! Who knew?)

Every once in  while, I actually build a building to house all my accumulated legal papers and other crap, just to piss off the neighbors. Sometimes people ask my opinion. Sometimes I share it with them.

(If, and only if, they pay “good.”  If not, usually a hand gesture will suffice!)

FYI: “Good” is better than “well,” to anyone in the “trades.”

I’m a middle-aged guy, with more than a little world travel, who records and chronicles the world, one canvas or one curb-view, at a time. I guess I’m the “plastering poet of the profoundly lost!” Yeah, that’s it! Heh-heh!

You see, it’s like this. I’m on a mission. To grow my craft, to grow my art, I have to grow my life experience. I know, I’ve done just about everything once, but… real growth takes stimulation… muses, new sources of inspiration, some excitement, and some “new blood” upon which to build a new fire.

(Besides, burning destroys most of the evidence… LOL!)

And contrary to what you might read about me, I don’t have “many” delusions of grandeur.

(Okay, I have a few. Alright, there are several, you satisfied now? Gawd, you’re a pain… LOL!)

Now where was I? Oh yeah…

And unless you’re (a) stupid, (b) envious, (c) jealous, or (d) prejudiced… one day you’ll look back at my body of work, and go; “Man, that guy was dialed in!” I do hope that someday my buildings will be considered “landmarks,” and my artwork will be considered “visionary,” and far too valuable to be put out by the curb.

(By the “monument,” waiting for the wrecking ball! I know, I know…)

I wanna leave my mark, because I’d like to be thought of as an “original,” a guy who lived life, shared his experiences and lived decently…

(in a house, not the “other” one… That “decent” yardstick is a tough one…)

Maybe they’ll say I painted a piece or two worthy of gratitude and respect.

(Maybe not. Bastards! Everybody’s a critic!)

I read, write, and thirst for stimulation, experience, and growth. I’m a whore, that way! And, if that means a little pleasure along the way, well… not all art has to come from suffering! I’m looking for conspirators, um… er… kindred spirits… cohorts… partners in crime.

That’s where you come in. You are the necessary ingredients, to help focus this madness!

Let’s be honest for a minute, okay? If you’re here, you’re either a glutton for punishment, or you’re bold, you know what you want, and you’re not afraid to reach out and grab it. You hunger for life, and you’re not caught up in celebrity. You’re caught up in passion, and you possess a zeal for life that carries you past most people. You’re not a felon, but you understand conspiracy. You’re not a patient, but you understand thinking out of the box, and abstract thought. You’re attractive in ways that count at the end of the day, and you like who you are and who you see in the mirror…

And most importantly, you’re open-minded, and looking for new experiences to broaden your horizons… Because even an idiot knows that life is about opportunity.

Let’s face it, I’m interesting. Admit it. C’mon, you know you want to…. Nobody’s looking… just mutter it aloud quietly, under your breath.

And then, just dive in. C’mon in, the water’s fine!