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"Fritz Durien Hall Of Fame Warehouse" By: The GYPSY

The Artists Life: Fritz Durien’s Hall Of Fame Warehouse

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THE ARTISTS LIFE: “FRITZ DURIEN HALL OF FAME WAREHOUSE”

Water Color on 9“ x 12” Cold Press Paper By Romani American Artist J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY

What Carry Nation did to keep Kansas dry, Fritz Durien did to keep Kansas wet. From his Hall of Fame Saloon Topeka Barkeep Fritz Durien kept stashes of the good stuff at various locations under the floor boards of his Saloon. Not one to go down easy Ol’ Fritz fought the battle against Kansas Prohibition all the way to the high court.

The photo that this painting is based on struck me for it’s stark simplicity of an act of defiance. Fritz is not making a grand gesture rather the gesture is simple and speaks volumes. You can almost hear Fritz thoughts as he stashes his treasure; My customer’s will not go thirsty. But more importantly neither will I. 

Fritz’s battle with the government hit’s close to home for me. I also had a battle with church people and a city government that wanted to close down my little neighborhood tavern in Baxter Springs, Kansas because of the evilness of liqueur and beer. I fought the good fight but eventually grew tired and moved on. Fritz also eventually gave up the good fight, closed his Saloon and headed off to Germany. In a strange twist of ironic fate the “Hall of Fame” Saloon went from selling hard liqueur to selling soda pop after Fritz had left the building.

-The GYPSY- July 7, 2021

“Art must evoke an emotion in order to be art. If it only creates indifference then it is not art, it is garbage!”

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Sealion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things While The Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On - Oil Painting By The GYPSY

The Artists Life: Sea Lion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things as the Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On.

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The Artists Life

“Sean Lion Women and Mermaids Doing Autopsies on Things as the Bad Ass in the Corner Looks On.” By: J. A. George AKA; The GYPSY was inspired by the writings of artist Baroness Ampersand and the sinking of the Titanic.
 
Inspirations From A Baroness
 
My friend, artist Jana Jones AKA; The Baroness Ampersand has a way with not only the tip of a brush but with the written word. She paints with vivid color in both mediums visual and literary. I sit fascinated and enthralled by all she writes because she writes of The Artists Life, as she calls it and which we now carry on with our art blogs. I understand her ramblings and can relate to the depth of the soul from which they pour for I live the Artists Life daily.
 
Understanding her metaphors and similes (is that redundant?), is like deciphering a foreign language for the beginning student unless of course you are fluent in that language. Which I am! For so long I did not use that language, then one day I discovered Jana and rediscovered my artists tongue. So long unused I, at first, stumbled over the phrases, words and inflections. But I am again becoming fluent with that language of cryptic images and layered meanings.
 
I slowly fell out of use with the language during my relationship with my first wife. She could not understand and thought that it was crazy that I insisted that she not talk with me when I was creating. My concentration was such at the time that any disturbance killed the soul of my work. She was not an artist, she did not understand. Over time my art took a back seat to the desires of my penis. My brushes and pencils laid virtually untouched for years. Once in awhile I would pick them up, brushing off the dust and cobwebs but the passion was gone and I had forgot the language and they would, before long lay again untouched.
 
Oh if she had just understood and had not suppressed the language what art I could have made. She was an exotic dancer and was art in motion what paintings I could have created, what magic would have been revealed upon the canvas. But alas she had no understanding and I allowed her to engulf me in her desires instead of my own. After twelve years her needs became more than I could fulfill and she, like the Succubus she is, left me to drain a new victim.
 
As I began to recover and was starting to rediscover the language I fell prey to another Succubus. This one envisioned herself an artist, a decorator if you will, but never understood that lime green and burgundy are not complimentary colors. She continued the draining the first demon had begun and I started to shrivel and my soul started to wane. She drank and drank until I had no more to give. She drained my emotion, she drained my passion, she drained my bank account and when all was drained that she could drain she left me, as the first one had, for her new victim.
 
Oh, I fought her, I strived in numerous ways to regain the language, I did not succumb easily but in the end I lost the battle. I knew I had lost the battle the day she said, I feel nothing when you touch me. Her draining was complete. She left me with, I was looking for a good father for my children and I at least accomplished that. Used, abused and thrown away I lay crumpled, broken, drained. The language was, or so it seemed, forever lost to me.
 
Enter the next moment in my Artist Life; Debbie. One day Debbie said to me, I wish I could paint. With those words the lock was turned within the door that held her artists soul. That door was flung wide and Debbie discovered, more and more, her own artists soul. Yet the day came when Debbie had no more use for me and tossed me aside like an old rag used to clean the paint off your brush. I was old, worn, tattered and of no further use to her.
 
I was crushed, my artist soul wounded and in danger of being lost forever then into my life stepped a true artist that had suffered similar triumphs and defeats as I had, someone that understood the Artist Life struggle; Raychel AKA; Mad Hatter. Being a caring beautiful Native Queen she took pity upon this poor peasant nursed and healed me at a time when I felt I was forever lost. Though neither her nor I knew it at the time, she as an artist, nourished me with her artistic soul. She fed me small amounts so that I would not become greedy and engorge myself and slowly I gained strength and started to again understand the passion and language I had lost.
 
As Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artists soul Jana reminded me of my native tongue. And in reminding me of that language so long forgotten she has struck up, within me, inspiration with her words. One example has already come to fruition and started with this phrase;
 
“A series of narrow doors, painted green, still line the side of the building, and if you don’t look too closely you can see the whores leaning on the door frames, smoking Lucky Strikes, back lit by the dim light of the interiors, calling out into what was an alleyway.”
 
This phrase from a writing of Jana’s inspired my painting “Whores In The Alley Smoking Their Lucky Strikes.”
 
Musings by Jana are the inspiration for two works I will be completing in the near future and one already completed derived from the same writing;
 
“Miss America contest, circa 1950, when it actually meant something and I thought about Mermaids and Sea Lion Women, and wondered where they must live, in the ocean. – I also thought of my father he is the bad ass sitting in the corner, waiting for somebody to fuck up. – And I imagined two Sea Lion Women, pecking at the drama because they like to perform autopsies on things.”
 
These phrases led to a work that I had, within my mind, “Sea Lion Women and Mermaids Performing Autopsies On Things As The Bad Ass In The Corner Looks On.” It took over a year to complete the painting. I kept getting blocked; my mind would not communicate with my hand and I could proceed no further. Outside of Jana’s phrases of inspiration I was missing the key element that would bring the work together. That element was found when I visited the Titanic Museum in Branson, Missouri.
 
The next inspiration came from one of Jana’s writings in which she states;
 
“The local Madame DeFarge laughs and knits.”
 
When I show off my knowledge of Dickens Literature with a follow-up comment soaked in metaphors from “A Tale of Two Cities” Jana shoots back with;
 
“GYPSY I wonder if you will paint a Madame DeFarge, knitting and laughing wickedly. Don’t give her red hair. But hopefully, you’ll paint black tights with a little hole in them, on her legs.”
 
This has inspired a future work which is bouncing around in my head as “Madame DeFarge Laughs and Knits as Madame Guillotine Sings.” I find black tattered tights sexy so they will somehow be included in the work and whether or not the antagonistic Madame DeFarge has red hair remains to be seen.
 
Last at the moment, but certainly not least is a inspiration derived from a quote in one of Jana’s writings today. It seems as though the Baroness Ampersand has lost a very dear friend whose pleasant memory is a piece of her artistic soul. The memory and force of the loss is evident within the writing as you read the cryptic passage from her past;
 
“I’d read a book during that time that talked about The Third Reich’s entry into France . The title to the book was, Is Paris Burning? I don’t remember the contents of the book, except for one particular fact. Hitler called his general every day and asked the same question, until he got the answer yes. Is Paris burning? And I linked the three questions in my head, at the time. Every day when The Art Teacher asked, Are you still a virgin? Have you been in his bed? I would answer, Is Paris burning?”
 
The work that is even now germinating in my head will simply be called, “Is Paris Burning.”
 
Mad Hatter breathed life back into my artistic soul and Jana breathed life back into my work. Neither of these women set out to intentionally help me to rediscover my artists tongue but just by their words and actions both have helped me to rediscover the passion that lies within the language of the “Artists Life.”
 
Who knows what future inspiration they will give birth to within my fertile soul but I anxiously await that next rush of creative erection that will climax in what I refer to as “A Mental Ejaculation Spewing Forth Creative Juices.” Thank you for the artistic ménage trios Ladies you both leave me spent and satisfied!
 
-The GYPSY-
“Art must evoke an emotion in order to be art. If it only creates indifference then it is not art, it is garbage!”
 

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Landscape Commissions

Landscape Commissions Available

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LANDSCAPE COMMISSIONS AVAILABLE

Redecorating Your Office or Home? Have A Favorite Landscape Photo That You Would Like As A Painting? Do You Have A Vision Of Your Perfect Place? Then Allow One Of America’s Favorite Artists J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY To Bring Your Vison To Life By Creating A One Of A Kind Landscape Painting For You.
CONTACT THE GYPSY TODAY FOR MORE INFO:
(785) 571-9500 – ArtistAlleyStudio@gmail.com
Mespelbrunn Water Castle

Anatomy Of A Painting: Mespelbrunn Water Castle (Rework) – Part One

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ANATOMY OF A PAINTING: MESPELBRUNN WATER CASTLE (REWORK) PART ONE.

My wife was learning to paint and had wanted to do an Art Fusion Project with me. Art Fusion is when two or more artists collaborate on and create a work of art together. The painting pictured above was the result of our efforts. I was never really satisfied with this particular painting and in truth there were a lot of parts about it that bothered me. Since my wife was not familiar with architecture I tried to guide her but to no avail.

When we divorced in 2018 I inherited the painting which is on a 24″ x 36″ Gallery Stretched Canvas. The painting sat in storage for a few years and in 2021 I decided to start a rework of the painting. Not to take anything from my ex-wife Debbie Peck because she has her own volume of solitary art that she has done. Some areas that my ex-wife did will remain and her contribution to the finished rework will be acknowledge as to not take anything from her.

This piece of art has my name attached to it and I am not happy with it. There are areas on it that I did that I was never really happy with either. I will rework the art into something I can be happy with.  In this first part of a multi-part series I start on the rework of the painting. The series will follow the creation process as I do a  complete rework of the painting. There will be strong focus on the parts I was not satisfied with.

Paint On Print

Paint On Print

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Paint On Print By J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY

Paint On Print is a hybrid between an original oil or acrylic artwork and a canvas print. I order one of my oil or acrylic based prints on gallery stretched canvas. I then paint over sections of it with a lot of paint.

Each one of these Limited Editions Print On Paint pieces becomes a variation of the original work of art. It is my way to offer you an Acrylic or Oil variation of my original painting after the original has sold.

Paint On Print is not available for hand drawn art or watercolors. As a piece of Art comes available for Paint On Print it will be listed. Each Paint On Print is unique and comes with a certificate of authenticity.

-The GYPSY-

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Madam Thorney: She Told Fortunes - Acrylic Painting By The GYPSY

The Artist Life: Madam Thorney: She Told Fortunes

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“MADAM THORNEY: SHE TOLD FORTUNES” By: J.A. George AKA; The GYPSY

Acrylic On 16” x 20” Gallery Stretched Canvas
 
“SHE TOLD FORTUNES, This English Gypsy called Madam Thorney, and she held my right hand tight. I expected her to study my open palm; instead, she searched my face.” – Bart McDowell, National Geographic Senior Editor-
 

THE STORY OF “MADAM THORNEY: SHE TOLD FORTUNES”

So what inspired “Madam Thorney: She Told Fortunes”? That is a long story…

When I was 15 years old my mother, Shirley Elizabeth Hummel, gave me a hard cover book she had ordered from National Geographic; ‘GYPSIES WANDERERS OF THE WORLD’. “Read this”, she said as she handed it to me, “it should answer most of your questions.” I had grown up knowing we were Gypsy and as I got older I had more and more questions. My mother suffered from mental illness and my endless questions must have been taxing on her. She smiled as she handed me the book, “It will fill in the gaps after you read this.”
I was an avid reader, I still am when I can find the time to do it, so reading this marvelous hard cover edition was no problem for me. I quickly read it cover to cover. My mother was wise in giving the book to me because it answered most of my questions. As I closed the book for the last time the only questions, I was left with were those that concerned my own family.
I found the history and life of my people contained in this volume fascinating and intriguing. The book made me even prouder of my heritage but the thing that captivated me the most was the photographs by Bruce Dale, a National Geographic Photographer. What author Bart McDowell had captured in words Bruce Dale had captured in his photographs. It was the perfect blending of words and images in this one book that started me on my own path of combining my words with the images I create.
As I looked at the marvelous photographs that documented the life of my people in the late 1960’s, I could see my own face within their faces. I told my mother, “Someday I will paint the people in the book.” My mother had always been encouraging of my artistic endeavors. “I know you will”, she said. Life moved on and I was well into adulthood before I did my first painting based on a photo from the book; ‘Romani Messiah: Tattered Canvas’.

LOST AND FOUND

The flood of 1993 robbed me of the cherished book my mother had given me in 1971 and I thought it was gone forever. Until one day in 2001 I received a package in the mail that contained a first edition copy of ‘GYPSIES WANDERERS OF THE WORLD’. Scrawled on the face page was, “To Gypsy, the only real Gypsy I know, (first name illegible) Dempsay. I wish I knew who this person was so I could thank them, but alas, I never found out. I was overjoyed to have the book again and I re-read it. I renewed my commitment to paint my version of the photographs in the book.
When I painted my first version of ‘Romani Messiah: Tattered Canvas’ in 2007 and I was not happy with it. There was a time I would destroy things I created I was not happy with but this painting I gave away to someone that liked it. I tackled ‘Romani Messiah: Tattered Canvas’ again in 2020 and was happier with the result which encouraged me to tackle the next photograph that had inspired me to paint my versions of them; ‘Madam Thorney: She Told Fortunes’.

ART CANNOT BE MEASURED IN TIME

At this point you may be looking at the large gaps in time between my first commitment to paint the photographs that inspired me to the point that I am doing it. Any artist can tell you that distraction is our curse. It is way to easy for us to get distracted with other projects and put other things on the back burner. The other curse for an artist is that when they are dissatisfied with a project, they walk away from it. There are projects an artist will walk away from and never come back to; there are projects that take a while to come back to. So, it is with this project. But with my satisfaction with ‘Romani Messiah: Tattered Canvas’ and now ‘Madam Thorney: She Told Fortunes’ I am encouraged to create more of my versions of the photographs from the book.
The photograph of Madam Thorney and her description intrigued me:
 
“I studied this fortune-teller with puzzled respect: her arresting, heavy lidded eyes and her strong, gentle features – a face suggesting nose-jewels and saris.”
As I set about to capture Madam Thorney, I took quite a few artistic liberties with my rendition of the photo. Those things in my painting that remain unchanged are her sign, her posture, general features and eyes. Notice that I said, “General Features”. As I looked at the photograph of Madam Thorney by Bruce Dale and Bart McDowell’s description of her, I saw all her ancestors that had made her who she was. As I painted, I did not even try to copy the photograph, that was not my intent. My goal was to capture the spirit of what the photograph had captured, her heritage, her history and her bloodline.
Madam Thorney, in the photo, appears to be in her late sixties or maybe early seventies. The photo was taken at her wagon where she was telling fortunes at Epsom Downs for Derby Days in 1968. I am sure that Madam Thorney left to meet her ancestors an exceptionally long time ago. But here she is, still smiling and reading fortunes within the pages of this book and her essence now captured upon my canvas.
The day that Bart McDowell met Madam Thorney she told him, “You are writing something, a book perhaps. And you are planning a journey. Yes, a very long journey. Where are you going?” Bart McDowell took his journey to trace the history of my people, the Romani people; he wrote our story.
For a one pound note Madam Thorney pulled out a small crystal ball and gave Mr. McDowell this final warning: “Be careful. Beware of things others may write down or tell you. Write only what you find for yourself.” I would like to believe that Madam Thorney would be pleased if she knew that her insights and warning had reached across time to touch me. For I too am taking a journey, a journey to capture in paint upon my canvas the essence of the Gypsies, my people. I will always write only what I find for myself but more that that I will only paint what I see with my heart and soul.
 
-The GYPSY: January 24, 2021 – Topeka, Kansas-
 
This painting is for sale at https://Artist-Alley.net
Mad Hatter and The GYPSY

Welcome To Artist Alley Studio

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OUR MISSION AT ARTIST ALLEY STUDIO

We believe that no matter what type of Art You want Body, Portrait, Fine or Craft that you deserve to receive nothing less than the best we can offer. Our personal guarantee to you is that whether visiting our Artist Alley Studio & Gallery or our Online Gallery you will always be greeted and serviced in a clean, safe and friendly environment. This has been our mission since 1976 and will continue to be so into the future.

 

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The Contract

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THE CONTRACT

I sat in the chair in front of the enormous desk holding the contract in my hands. Across from me, hands folded in front of him, sat the man in the suit and the tie with the Windsor knot that had handed me the contract.
I had just read article 15, which stated to wit; any and all work that I did over the next 15 years belonged to the greeting card company that was wanting to hire me as an artist. I looked at the man and thought how ridiculous his blue and red striped tie looked against the dark green of his suit. His eye glasses reflected the light, he looked like a Christmas tree with a sparkling tree topper.
The date was January 5th 1976 and I had just graduated midterm from my high school. I was taking college art classes and was not really sure what direction I wanted to go in life. The one thing I was sure of and the one thing I had always been sure of ever since I was a young child was that I would be an artist. Nothing else in the world interested me more than art. To spend my life creating art was my idea of a life well spent.
I laid the contract on the man’s desk and set back in my chair. He studied me and I studied him. “Well, what do you think?” he asked. What I thought was, “How did you get my portfolio?” I suspected that I knew how he had got my portfolio. My well-meaning mother, whose dream it was for me go to work for this well-known and well-respected greeting card company had probably sent it to them. That is what I wanted to ask the living Christmas decoration sitting across from me but what I said was, “Let me get this straight, any and all work I do over the next 15 years belongs exclusively to your company. So does that mean that if I paint a mural and hang it over my fireplace that you can come into my home and take that painting?”
He stammered, “Well technically…” I cut him off, “This is a simple yes or no question yes you can, no you can’t.” The human Christmas tree shook off some loose needles, cleared its throat and said, “Well theoretically…” I cut him off with a wave of my hand as I stood up, “Well theoretically”, I said turning towards the door, “I’m going to have to think about it.” Mr. Xmas jumped to his feet. “We are really interested in signing you; the contract will be here when you are ready to sign.” He pointed at his desk indicating the stack of neatly typed papers that lay upon it.
Over the years I have thought about that contract laying on his desk and I have wondered to myself; I wonder how dusty that contract is? Because I knew when I stepped out that door and it closed behind me that I would never be back.
I was 19 years old at the time and as I rode down in the glass enshrouded elevator all I could think to myself was if I had signed that contract I would be an old man of 34 years old by the time it expired. Now there are some people that would say I was crazy for not signing on with the greeting card company, I mean after all with the progressive salary raises that the contract offered by the time it expired in 1989 I would be pulling down $50,000 a year, not to mention accumulated bonus’, benefits and a fat pension package. At that time that was a chunk of cash, even in this day and age it is nothing to sneeze at, yet to me it wasn’t enough to sign my soul away. There is never enough money for that.
As I walked out of the large center that held the offices that I would never be returning to the chill wind sent a shiver up my spine. I stood and let the sunshine try to warm my face as I wondered; is it the wind that makes me cold or is it the thought of what I just turned down that leaves me chilled. There was one thing I knew for sure I wasn’t in a big hurry to return home. My mother’s dream for me had always been for me to go to work for that particular card company but it wasn’t my dream. No I would have to return home and tell my mother that her hopes, plans and aspirations for me were not the hopes, plans and aspirations I had for myself.
As I drove down Main Street in Kansas City, Missouri I looked to my right and my left for some distraction, for something that would allow me to kill some time so that I could delay the inevitable scene that would occur when I told my mother what I had decided. That is when I saw it, the tattoo parlor, I turned the corner and pulled into the parking lot behind the building.
I had never been inside a tattoo parlor, the thought of going into a tattoo parlor had never even crossed my mind let alone the thought of getting a tattoo. On this day my only thought was; let’s go in and check this out and see if it’s just like it is on TV and in the movies. Besides I was looking for a way to kill time and this was as good a way as any.
As I walked into the building the smell of alcohol, soap and cigarette smoke assailed my nostrils. The walls were filled with a mirade of cartoonish looking designs on large cardboard sheets; I would later learn that these were called “Flash”. The only sound inside the building was the music playing from an old radio up on a shelf and ithe nsisted buzzing of the tattoo gun.
In this time and place the terms “parlor” and “gun” were appropriate; that would not be the case in the future when those terms would become archaic and be replaced with studio and machine. But the tattooist who sat behind the counter in this “parlor” tattooing the arm of a man with his “gun” was not only appropriate but descriptive of the atmosphere of this place and the individual whose imposing presence ruled this domain.
I swallowed hard, cleared my throat and then in a voice meeker than I had intended said, “Excuse me sir, do you mind if I watch you work?” Without looking up from the bicep that he was tattooing a peacock onto the tattooist barked out, “Yeah, but don’t talk to me.”
I will not bore you with the details of my long time standing there watching this man tattoo. To go into detail about what he tattooed that day who he tattoo that day and where those tattoos were placed on the numerous bodies that walked in and out of his shop would do nothing but put you to sleep and cause you to stop reading this narrative. What is important to note was that 14 hours after I had first asked Gene if I could watch him and he locked those doors to his parlor for the day I was still there.
“So”, he asked as he locked the door, “when are you going to start learning how to tattoo?” I laughed, “What makes you think I want to learn how to tattoo?” Gene eyed me up and down and shook his head. “Boy let me tell you something I have been tattooing for twenty eight years, I am third generation, my daddy tattooed before me and his daddy before him. Nobody, and I mean nobody stands for 14 hours straight with their mouth closed watching me work that doesn’t want to learn.”
I was a 19 year old kid who thought he had all the answers, who believed that no one knew what was going on in this whole wide world any better than he did. I looked at Gene smirked and said, “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Yeah right”, he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The drive home between Kansas City and St Joe that morning seem to take longer than usual. My mind was working overtime weighing, balancing, determining, and desperately trying to see into my murky, crowded and unknown future.
Around 4 a.m. I walked in the door of the apartment that I shared with my mother and sister. My mother sat on the couch waiting for me a stack of magazines and newspapers next to her. She jumped up as I entered the apartment and almost, no doubt in her excitement, screamed, “Where have you been? Where have you been? What did they say? When do you start work for them?”
I took off my coat and dropped it over the back of the chair by my mom’s priced piano. I turned around and faced her; you could not miss the look of excited anticipation on her face. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m not going to work for them.” The look of excitement left my mother’s face and was instantly replaced by a look of confusion. “What do you mean you’re not going to work for them? If you don’t go to work for the greeting card company what on earth are you going to do?” Mustering up as much of my manly nineteen-year-old fortitude as I possibly could I looked my mother dead in the eye and said, “I’m going to be a tattoo artist.” She promptly screamed and fainted.
My grandmother took it a little better then my mother did. When I phoned her to give her the news and I told her what I had decided. There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, I heard her exhale and then she asked, “Will it make you happy?” I said, “Yes ma’am it will.” My grandmother said, “Well then that is all that matters.”
In my 40 year career I have had many milestones, many accomplishments and many let downs. I have always chosen to not dwell up on the downside of my career but rather on the upside and what I have been able to give back to a profession that has given so much to me.
I have three associates degrees; forestry / wildlife management, technical illustration / mechanical drafting and psychiatric technician.
I have had the first tattoo studios in St Joseph Missouri, Abilene Texas, Midland Texas, San Angelo Texas, Baxter Springs, Kansas, Iola Kansas and Independence, Kansas. I also had the first legally registered tattoo studio in the state of Oklahoma and from 1995 – 2010 I was the officially recognized tattoo authority for the Osage Nation.
I was the first person in the state of Kansas to actually go to school to learn how to pierce and learn how to do microdermal implantation, what is commonly referred to as cosmetic tattooing.
At one time it was believed that you couldn’t tattoo over scars. In 1977 I was allowed the opportunity to practice scar cover up on a gentleman that had been burnt over three quarters of his body. I spent a year working on his arm and taking notes. I developed a procedure that worked for covering up his heavy scar tissue with tattoos and I wrote a paper on it in 1978. Tattoo artists that cover up scar tissue today may not know where the technique came from that they have learned to do but that’s okay. Because it gives me satisfaction to know how many people have been helped because of work I did in 1977 and 1978. Recently I heard of a tattoo artist in Ohio who is donating their time to cover the scars of victims of severe trauma. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to hear of other people in my profession giving back with something that I helped develop.
I promoted, organized and sponsored the very first ever tattoo convention in Kansas which ran from 1993 – 1997.
I have been a senior zookeeper, a soldier, a truck driver, a bar owner and a school bus driver. I have driven ice cream vans, been an art teacher, actor and common laborer.
Together with my wife I founded Artist Alley and American Ghost Riders (a paranormal research group). I am an artist, an author, an illustrator, and a psychic.
I ran for the Kansas State House of Representatives in 2006 and I am the creator and executive director of Topcon Geek Expo.
I have donated of my time, my energies, my talents and my self to numerous civic and charitable causes. I was the Chairman of the Baxter Springs Joint Historic and Beautification Committee. I have sat on the board of Directors of the Baxter Springs Chamber of Commerce, Southeast Kansas Tourism Region and 4 State Tattoo Association. I was an Explorer Scout Adviser and a Children’s Art Teacher. And through all these things I have done and been I continued my Body Art career practicing my love of Tattooing and Piercing.
In 2008 I became one of only 27 people worldwide that had taken and passed the Alliance of Professional Tattooist Tattoo Mastery test.
In 2009 I was appointment to the Kansas Board of Cosmetology, by Governor Mark Brown, as the representative for the body art industry in the state of Kansas.
I have one of the first websites ever on the Internet dedicated to tattooing and piercing I have owned the www.ubtat2d.com domain since 1994. I am a resident expert on body art on www.allexperts.com and I have written numerous articles about tattooing and piercing as well as doing the lecture circuit disgussing body art safety and ethics.
From 1988 through 2010 I owned several different state of the art mobile facilities and worked the show and event circuit during the summer months. Arizona to Kansas to Oklahoma to Missouri to Ohio I traveled, I tattooed, I pierced. South Dakota to Arkansas to New Hampshire to Iowa to Texas I did the miles and I did the art. Pennsylvania to South Carolina to Nebraska to Wyoming to New Mexico I left no road untraveled and no client unmarked.
I have given countless television and radio interviews as well as appearing and starring in movies and television documentaries about tattooing, piercing and the paranormal. I even share top billing in a movie with Peter Fonda, Jim Dandy, Greg Alman, Willie Davidson, Slaughter and Paul Revere.
I have won numerous awards and accolades for the tattoo art I create both nationally and internationally.
I have artwork in the Smithsonian institution as well as in museums in Kansas and elsewhere in the United States. I am even part of an exhibit about American art that is featured in a traveling Museum in Australia.
My art and the career that I chose to follow have put food on my family’s table, clothes on my children’s back and a roof over my family’s head.
I am an old school tattoo artist and proud of that fact; I make no apologies to anyone for the art I create nor the style of that art. I do not compare my work to others and I do not appreciate it when others compare their work to mine.
All artists no matter what medium they work in have their style. You cannot compare Van Gogh to Renoir, you cannot compare Michelangelo to Rodan and you can not compare Sailor Jerry to The Gypsy. All have their styles, all have their niche and all have they’re separate following. The type of art I like is not the type of art that another person may like and vice a versa.
I have been practicing my tattoo art 40 years now and truthfully I am tired. It is not that I am tired of tattooing because I’m not. It’s not that I am tired of creating art because I am NOT. What I am tired of is ignorance; ignorance that comes from rudeness and the rudeness that comes from disrespect.
For 40 years I have dealt with the truly ignorant, the truly Rude, the truly disrespectful and and with the widespread popularity of social networking the trolls have become even more ignorant, rude and disrespectful and I am just tired of it.
It is an unfortunate statement on our society that you cannot educate those who refuse to be educated. I know, I have tried to educate people but while some learn others close their eyes, they close their ears, and they close their minds. Those are barriers that you just cannot pass through and I am done trying.
That is why I have decided to pass on the torch to younger and more enthusiastic members of the body art community.
In the near future I will be retiring from body art. I will go back to where it all started; I will lay down my tattoo machine and pick up a paintbrush and my art will have come full circle. So it is with life everything comes full circle and there is no beginning and there is no end.
In my career I have apprenticed 18 people; out of those 18 people 3 proved their worth. It is to those three that I will leave my legacy my hopes and my dreams to. My final chapter will never be wrote because within all those I have taught, touched and loved in my life and in my career my story will continue.
They will take all that they have learned from me and they will expand it, they will improve upon it and pass it on to those who want ti learn and will further expand on and improve the world of Body Art just like I did with what I learned. I will live on from generation to generation and the ethics and passion I contributed to Tattooing and Piercing will live on also. Because just as I drank from the spring that formed me so too did they drink from the spring that formed them and those who come after them will drink from their spring.
So when that day comes that I do announce my retirement do not mourn for what has ended rather rejoice with me in what has begun. Because baby you ain’t seen nothing yet.
-The GYPSY: Master Tattoo Artist–