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 painting was executed shortly after my return from Florida. Here’s how it came to be: While I lived in Florida my primary means of transportation was my Humber ten-speed, which I rode everywhere. Riding US Highway 1 from our little cinder block rental house in Ormond Beach into Daytona Beach was a daily event for me. US 1 was always an inspiration with all its neon-lit motels and pre-interstate commercial history. At the Flagler County line, the highway still remains west of Interstate 95. Before an overpass, it passes through a mobile home park, and enters the city of Ormond Beach. This section in the city is known as Younge Street. One day as I was riding along, this scene hit me like a ton of bricks, or grapefruits, to be more precise.
As was often the case, I had my trusty Fujica ST-701 35mm SLR with me; wide strap around the left side of my neck and under my right arm with the camera riding on my back was the way I rolled. I squeezed the brakes hard and skidded to a stop when I saw the flatbed truck with plywood sides bursting with shining yellow fruit. I knew instantly that this was going to be a painting. I don’t always know when I’m taking reference shots that the image will eventually turn into a good painting. Not the case here. I was blown away by the visual power and the iconic nature of this image. Here before me was my chance to say so much about my Florida experience all in one almost perfect image. The clear blue sky and sun drenched fruit, the Winn-Dixie supermarket in the back ground, the old truck with the Sunshine State license plate parked along the legendary two-lane highway. I had been thinking a great deal about trying to paint subjects that were uniquely and quintessentially American, here was my almost perfect quintessential Florida image. Almost perfect, however I imagined it in a way that it could be even more powerful.
As mentioned previously, I had been influenced by the Photorealists, but while their work was often a slick, emotionally detached, literal representation of a photograph, with no brushstrokes or evidence of the human hand, this is not what I was interested in doing with my paintings. I did not have the technical skill to paint like that, but I never really wanted to anyway. I want the emotion I feel about a subject to come through. Neumannism: all great art is personal. My paintings are based on my photographs and my style of work would not be possible without photography; however I do not consider myself a Photorealist. The Grapefruit Truck painting is very large; 54“x60.” Reducing this image to the size of your computer screen makes it look almost photographic but, like all of my work, seeing the actual painting is a whole different experience. I am also profoundly influenced by Hopper and the Old Masters. Upon seeing their work in person I have always been struck by how loose some of their brushwork is.
I usually don’t share the source photographs for my work because I want the images to stand on their own and not be compared to a photo but to illustrate my point I’ll do it here. As you can see from the original photo, I have changed the composition a bit to enhance the 
effectiveness of the painting. I opened up the background on the right side of the truck to help with a sense of depth, for one thing. This background is simply invented. I remember that I put in a factory-like building in the distance to suggest where the fruit might be processed, and a couple of palm trees just to reinforce the Florida-ness of the scene. I had seen Andy Warhol’s image of a pistol pointed straight at you and Roy Lichtenstein’s “BAM” “POW” word balloons and liked the power of Warhol’s bull’s-eye composition and Lichtenstein’s big yellow shapes that come right at you. My changes to the composition were calculated decisions and influenced by Pop Art sensibilities.
So is this a painting of a real place? Yes and no. I have never felt a need to make any literal transcription or record of what I observe. It is a “realistic” painting based on something I experienced. The grapefruits are not real. They are an imaginary creation made from cadmium yellow, Winsor Yellow, flake white in the highlights, burnt umber and ultramarine blue in the shadows. It is an illusion captured by photography, imagination, memory, and the limits of paint and my hand. A still life with five-hundred grapefruits, it is a real place only in the mind of the artist and the viewer.
