About Us When “Us” Is Me
- It makes a great story. Homeless at age four in a land demolished by allied bombing. Three German cities were completely destroyed in the second Great War of the 20th century: Munich, Dresden, and Bremen. A decade after the war's end, there was a thriving trade in displaced and orphaned children. That trade brought me to America, to the home of a schizophrenic adoptive mother and an adoptive father who believed that I could be a buffer between him and his nightmare marriage. My brother came too but was returned like a cheap toy from Walmart, landing finally in an orphanage in Germany.
- There's no resentment, however. I only have gratitude for the life that I've been given as a result of all the early troubles. My schizophrenic adoptive mother had been a painter, and she gave me her paints and brushes from the 1940s. I won an art scholarship and went to the UT School of Fine Art in 1968. I bought new brushes and paints that I used for the next 40 years until a wildfire burned all that we owned: paints, art, brushes, and all. We were out buying socks and underwear the next day.
- The fire came in 2011 after we had bought a home in the woods just two years before. It burned 35,000 acres and almost 1,700 homes. We were far from alone. I had been a home builder and knew all of the building trades intimately. Having little money, the project was my own, with little help in any phase of the construction. However, we're grateful for the help we received.
- But this site is about art. Pablo Picasso once said, "Once art becomes official and open to everyone, then it becomes the new academicism." I despise publicly funded art. I find it odd that street artists like Jean Michel Basquiat, Keith Harring, and the British Banksy all left their belief in aesthetic freedom behind after tasting success and the money that comes with it. Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ" was funded by a federal agency, the NEA. That makes the work irrelevant, at best, and disgusting, not because of the content but because it was made by a dog on a leash.
- I've sold to collectors over the years. The poet Alan Ginsberg bought a drawing back in 1972. One would have expected something avant-garde, but in fact, it was a simple drawing of a quarter horse cutting out a calf. He said he had a goat farm in New Jersey. He called the airport to delay his flight when the framing cut off my signature, and I had to be called in to sign the piece again. The airport folks said, "Alan who?" and the flight was missed. I only made $20 for that drawing, while the gallery made over $200, but it made our Christmas.
- In January of 1973, we were living in an old schoolhouse in Shelby, TX. I was working on restoration projects for the woman who owned the entire town. She had been a prostitute who eventually married well and returned to buy the town that had thrown her out many years before. In my free time, I was making art like a madman. A fire took the house and all of my work.
- Now, here's a story for you. An acolyte, a hopeful who wishes to learn the truth of all things, climbs a mountain to visit the guru who lives in a small hut at the very top where the air is scarce and the whiskey bars are very distant. Finding the guru, the acolyte asks for the secret of all things, for the meaning of the very core of being. The guru says, "I can't tell you." The acolyte begs and pleads for a few words of wisdom, not understanding the meaning of the words he has already heard, "I can't tell you." Without a lifetime of experience, nothing can be truly known. Without true love, true love can't be known. Without pain, pain can't be known, and without joy, joy can't be known. Why does God allow suffering? How else would you know anything worthwhile?
- This brings us to the monkeys. We all have what I like to call a monkey mind. It chatters and screams invective, soused in desire and wasted wishes. I've painted a series of monkeys as family portraits. If you watch reality television, you're watching scenes from the monkey house. The fact of being given the gift of life, of consciousness, in the created universe is lost in that shuffle. But the work isn't a criticism of that phenomenon. Rather, it's a hopeful wish for clarity, for the finding of a way through the fog of the pathetic.
- Most artists' websites give a list of shows, galleries, and collectors. I've added one after the Contact page, hidden in the deep recesses of the site. My list spans over 40 years and is unnecessary to what I have to say. I can't even remember the majority of the exhibitions in which I participated. The work and the words should speak for themselves. Either it speaks to you, or it doesn't. The relationship between the viewer and a work of art is very intimate. The artist cannot and should not try to control that relationship. Once the piece is out in the world, it no longer belongs to the creator. That is, in fact, how free will works. What you see, even if it came from my hand, belongs to you. I can never see through your eyes.
- So, buy some art if you want. I'll make it worth your while because I love people. I've sold hundreds of pieces over the years, and each buyer is also a new friend. Each work has an owner out there somewhere, someone for whom it was made, even though neither of us knew it. It's just a matter of getting them together, kind of like a dating site for art lovers. The Contact page doesn't always work, so just drop me a line at my email address, klauseyting@gmail.com.