I moved to San Antonio after living in Edmonton, Alberta where I was still riding high after being given a one-man show of my work at the University of Alberta. (few photos survive of this eclectic collection which emulated the styles of  a number of well-known artists). An "artist" in search of meaning? I remember doing a lot of palette-knife work, all of them were oils, I mixed many of my own paints, and was given my own studio space after the paintings began piling up.  

In San Antonio, I dug into art classes at Trinity University and soon found myself swept into the current wave of  finding "meaning - oneself" through abstract expressionism. It was the only game in town, and I began to have fun with it after realizing that my facility for realism wasn't garnering any respect. I began to create a series of large paintings which became known as "Figures in Motion", since they had developed from life drawings of models who continually moved while we drew them. I was shortly given my own studio space after the collection began growing, and was given an unending supply of masonite panels to paint on. Later, the paintings were strip framed by a local gallery owner for a show they decided to set up for me.

I began to feel increased pressure, having simultaneously been offered the mural opportunity and a one-man show. As well, I felt a loss of control and felt prematurely channeled into continuing in the direction being handed to me, exciting as it was.  It was all too new, and it wasn't a part of me yet The one-man show was in a prominent local gallery for the "Figures in Motion" series and the mural opportunity was completed within the week's deadline given. For the mural I received jars of paint, huge brushes, a scaffold to use, and a time limit to complete it. The gallery show opening was greeted with torrential rainfall brought on by a hurricane that had hit the gulf and moved inland, so it was astonishing that people actually showed up for it.

A need for humor was my means to deflect the mounting sense of pressure, so I did a painting titled "Teddy Bears in Motion" shortly before the gallery opening which horrified those personally invested into launching me as an artist. It was argued that I couldn't demean my work with the satirical piece even if I had no intention of showing it; so I fell in line, painted over it, and cranked out several more acceptable pieces. "Teddy Bears in Motion" served my own purpose to make fun of myself for playing the art game I didn't really understand and was growing to dislike. It was also an effort to regain control of rapidly changing events, but I was in too deep to do anything but go ahead with it all and then leave town after the dust settled. (Only one photo from the gallery show survives and what remains of the original paintings are probably somewhere in Texas).

I left San Antonio with an irrevocable dislike for the art game in general, but an enduring love and appreciation for what I was given there and the people who gave it to me. I felt very much like a fraud among some very talented and generous people who understood and embraced  the art marketing game, played it successfully, were passionate about their own work, and were comfortable enough with the way it all works to stay with it and mentor others. Through my short experience there, I learned that I'm not built to be a part of that world. Soon afterwards,  possibly motivated to push back, I became a sort of realist, making the decision that being one of so many of us in doing what we love and what we find interesting and challenging is better for the soul than succeeding at something which feels counterfeit or calculating.

Decades later, I realize that most artists like myself do art simply because they can't not do it. It takes many forms and finds inspiration everywhere, but particularly for me it easily becomes monotonous when the same approach or idea is repeated too often. As a result, what I have produced has left an array of unrelated stuff, highly derivative of whatever inspired the effort, and produced, for the most part, simply for the sheer joy of getting lost in the process