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I was eight years old and the boat had broken down again, Dad cursed beneath the open engine hatch, the air smelled of ether from the starter spray. The boat bobbed up and down like a cork in the choppy bay. My brothers and I huddled together on the salty cushions to avoid the salt spray of the white caps and our father’s ire. I looked up to see a sunset so spectacular that it became clear to me why they call the strip of land beyond the bay Fire Island. The sky was on fire with luminous oranges, splashes of gold and streaks of crimson flowing into purple. It was perhaps the first time that I was really aware of the magnificent beauty of our planet and it took my breath away.
The wind was picking up and so were the waves, whipping up my father’s temper. And though things were tense on board, I was so enraptured by my first experience of aesthetic arrest that I stood up and announced to my family that I was going to be an artist so I could keep this sunset forever. My mother shushed, my brothers laughed and my father growled that I should sit down and shut up, that artists are beatniks. And while I still had a lot to learn about timing, on that day I found my enthusiasm, that welling up of passion that I feel for what is beautiful, evocative and compelling on this blue planet. That is what I try to convey in my work." ...
Welcome to ART IMAGE MAGAZINE, a Visual and Performing Arts Online Showcase Publication.
It was on my Dad’s old wooden boat in the middle of the Great South Bay off New York’s Long Island that I first knew that I wanted to be an artist.