Some notes from the show…
I went to the drive thru window of TD Bank to collect change before the con. Being a city person – working, living or both – for the entirety of my adult life, I have never gone to a bank drive thru before. I wonder if anyone has ever tried to rob a drive thru bank window before. I feel like someone in England would do this. I don’t know why I think that.
Found an incredible free parking space two blocks from the show thanks to my friend and assistant-for-a-day, Rick. Right there on the corner, outside of the evil, DON’T PARK HERE yellow line marking the personal space of a fire hydrant, but close enough that every chud on the road would be too scared to risk a ticket. (I did not get one.)
We were on the second floor of the Berkeley Hotel, and did a full lap around the room – vendor spaces were against the wall and some were located back-to-back in the center of the room – when I realized my table was front and center, the first thing anyone would see when they climbed the stairs or exited the elevator. It was the perfect spot and I plopped my Joker painting in full view of everything.
Chris Claremont sat across from me. I got a nice tan from his star power.
Mike and Ming of Comic Book Men were also in my room, at the back wall. I’m assuming a lot of people wanted to see them, and they also generated traffic for me. Big thanks to Cliff Galbraith and Rob Bruce for giving me such prime real estate at their show.
Right off the bat a guy in a wheelchair commented on the Joker, and then proceeded to tell me my name (it was not printed ANYWHERE) and talk about my IMDB page, which consists of a single credit. It kinda creeped me out how he knew so much about me, but it all made sense when he told me that I was in HIS movie, too, when I was interviewed by a man in a naked suit at last year’s Asbury Park Comic Con. He gave me a copy of the DVD (100 minutes), and then dug into his bag to hand off another copy, the 90 minute “family version.” I’m so afraid of what I’m going to see in this documentary.
Here’s the biggest problem with my work and these conventions that I’ve noticed. I’ve got original canvas artwork in various sizes, from 12×12″ up to 30×40″. A single six-foot table isn’t gonna cut it, and there aren’t enough people ready to plunk down a couple bills for a painting to justify me buying a larger space. I need to develop some sort of hanging system, maybe a metal shelf I can build and break down at every show. My parents suggested easels, but how many easels can I possibly fit in that nook? So as a result, I’ve just got this sloppy display where you really gotta work to see everything. Maybe that’s part of the charm, and maybe that makes me more endearing, a true artist, disheveled and messy. Or maybe its all annoying and I’m a fucking slob.
Sold the Stop! collage to a guy I chatted with for about a half-hour. He thought it was a print, and even after I assured him it wasn’t, he was afraid to touch the piece. I told him I have a daughter who spits on everything, so he shouldn’t worry. We’re gonna grab lunch this week, and he wants to get me an Asian.
22″ x 22″
It was loud in the room, and I misheard the guy. He wants to get me an AGENT. Agent. Not Asian.
It was also five million degrees in that room. I’m a little surprised the glue holding my collages together didn’t get sticky again, and thankfully, no Muppet faces melted off the page.
People love the New Jersey Badasses, and they sold at a decent clip, but not nearly as fast as I anticipated. Maybe people don’t love Jersey as much as I thought they did. One lady asked,”Why are they all so fat?” I wish Movie Squirrel was with me; she also wondered why I was painting “all these potbellies.”
I met a girl from a bar called Roxy and Duke’s. I’ll be participating in their 3rd annual Psycho Sunday, September 7th. I’m thinking it’s gonna be collages all day, all the way.
The Power Rangers painting I created last year was by far my most talked-about piece, but it remained in my possession all day. I sometimes wonder if my prices are crazy, but then I stumble across equally unknown talents, and they’re rally charging astronomical prices for half the size, half the work. So I tell myself that I don’t need 100 people to buy a painting, it just takes one, and to hold fast.
A guy who said he had the 1966 Batmobile outside asked if I would pose with the painting next to the car and Batman after the show. Uh, freaking duh, man.
I don’t give a shit if any of my work is ever in a museum. Suck a nut, The Louvre, my painting was in THE BATMOBILE.
We finished off an 11-hour day in which I was only fueled by two bananas, an apple (and its core), and two granola bars with sliders (meatball, pulled pork, Buffalo chicken) and “Irish nachos,” a sloppy/delicious plate with all the typical fixins’ of a regular nacho platter, plus pulled pork, and substituting chips with thinly sliced potatoes. Incredible.