“When I was 20 I lived in Mexico for a while, and loved the fearless artwork I saw there. The daring colors and the often violent scenes. Seemed life like to me. Back in Cleveland I was a journalist . I had to be. I graduated from CSU and I didn’t like working in the factory, because the men became animals of drink, who often abused the “touched in the head” sweep up guys. I became a police reporter during the 70’s, AKA “A mortician’s wet dream.” Later living in Los Angeles, I started pastels, because L.A. is pastel. A year in Berlin just after The Wall fell taught me of the glamor of evil. Dublin gave me the musical language of pubs and tea and soda bread, kindness and madness in even measure.
I was always making pictures. I didn’t ask any permission. I never intended to show anybody anything.”