Crane Motel, oil 22“x30” Collection of Ms. Anne Sacks, Pac Pal, CA

Motel, Air Conditioned, TV, Swimming Pool: These words, lit up in glowing neon, welcomed a generation of Americans to a good night’s rest just off the two-​lane highway. I was one of those kids happy to tumble out of the station wagon and into the pool. In my last post I addressed the question of “Why paint diners?” In this edition I’ll try to shed some light on why I paint motels. Allow me to take you on an American road trip.

Back in the late 1970’s I decided not to paint diners. I recently changed my mind about that decision. The West Taghkanic Diner, painted in 2011, is my first diner painting. To those that are familiar with my work this may come as a surprise. In describing my work or attempting to understand it, people often say things like, “Oh, I get it, you paint Route 66, 1950’s type stuff, diners and the like.” True enough, but until now, I had not painted a single diner.

Millers Dog House, oil on canvas 22“x30” collection of Dan Williams

Research in psychology has documented the fact that certain areas of the brain’s prefrontal cortex, specifically the ones that affect good judgment, are not fully developed until around age 25 or later. My escape from the Minneapolis winter of ’74 to the sun and fun of Florida was one of a few things I did in my young life that “seemed like a good idea at the time” but it definitely had two sides.

My artwork is about, among other things, the dual nature of the American experience. The exciting adventure and romance of the open road is a part of it, but the emptiness and creeping melancholy of the lonesome traveler is also in there. If an artist attempts to capture the soul of America there has to be a yin and a yang to it. The second painting from my Florida experience, “Miller’s Dog House,” contains a little of both.

People often say things that strike me as odd when viewing my paintings. Perhaps because most people have very little art education beyond high school. How can I blame them when they struggle for something to say about my work? Even so, I still find it surprising that people frequently ask me “Are these paintings of real places?” My standard response is that; “I can’t make this stuff up.” The question of whether or not these places are REAL, however, is actually not that strange when I think about it. A more accurate answer might be; “The subjects I paint come from real places, but the paintings are created through a combination of observation and imagination.” The Grapefruit Truck painting is an example.

The story behind this painting, entitled “Grapefruit Truck,” begins a long time ago. Ready Mr. Peabody, we’re going to set the Way-​back-​machine to February of 1974. It had been below zero in Minneapolis for weeks on end and I had just finished my second semester at Minneapolis College of Art and Design. Suffering from a bad case of freshman stress syndrome, and miserable with acute eczema exacerbated by the arctic conditions of that Minnesota winter, I was definitely ready for a change.

My college roommate Darrell Poore, was from Anderson South Carolina. The meat locker weather and the Foundation Studies program at MCAD had not been agreeing with Darrell’s southern disposition either. We were both looking for a way out. We found it, however it wasn’t exactly Spring Break.