About my art    What can I say about my work that you can't see for yourself? My art is all over the board: illustration, photography, painting, printmaking, and digital manipulation. Typically, artists are defined by their medium and style of work (expressionism, impressionism, cubism, etc). The problem with me is that I can't be contained. I allow the idea to dictate its own embodiment. Though you are able to see specific bodies of work within my entire collection, certain characteristics of the pieces within those bodies may have evolved. This isn't meant to keep you guessing. It's a result of the continuous evaluation and exploration of the creative processes.

So, the final verdict is that I have no style and that the way I do what I do constantly changes. And in my book, change isnˆt always bad. It represents growth and adaptation. Fluidity. Weˆre all changing, even as these words are being written and read. Itˆs a constant bartering with the world around you—taking this in exchange for that, a tangible expression of the intangible.
 
Show me the money!   An artists' rep made this statement to me not long ago: "Why are your prices so cheap? You've got to raise your prices!" While I was flattered by his belief that I should ask a higher price for my work, at present I'm grounded in my beliefs and realities. I create out of the love for my craft - showing work in local art fairs and galleries. Iˆm not represented by an agent or publishing house. Until recently, my studio was my home. My supplies are purchased with money earmarked for utility bills, earned from my day job. I am in direct competition with dollar stores and department stores that sell "bulk art." But more importantly, I believe that my art should be within the financial reach of the people in my community.
 
Inspiration for growth    As a young man growing up in East St. Louis, Illinois, I never gave much thought to my surroundings. I lived on the sixth floor of an eight-story building in the Orr Weathers Housing Projects until 1979, the year in which the building I lived was condemned. Seven of us lived in E-4 Orr Weathers Apartment 614: my mother, my aunt, three of my sisters, my nephew, and myself. It was a three-bedroom, concrete-walled apartment with speckled tile floors and steel doors that hung half an inch short of the floor-which allowed roaches and mice to come and go at their leisure. There was a stairwell at each end of the building. The elevator and the trash chute ran through the center of the building. In all, there were over 400 units in 4 buildings that made up the Orr Weathers, and more people than anyone could count. This community was the center of my world, and would later become the springboard for my creativity.
 
Learning to see    Although I was considered one of the top creative talents in high school, the feeble resources of East St. Louis School District 189 did not prepare me to compete with students outside the city limits. We designed with drafting boards and t-squares, while students at other schools used computers and graphics software. I had no awareness of the technology and design resources that were available. But I'm sure that our school board administrators were aware of these disadvantages. I'm also sure that, when they had to choose between art supplies and sports equipment, creativity got benched.

In 1985, I enrolled in Illinois State University's College of Fine Art. I took a job in the dorm cafeteria to help offset some of the expenses of college, but still found myself living hand-to-mouth at times. There was no such thing as extra money as far as they were concerned, but every now and then my mother and other family members managed to send me a little cash. Sometimes desperate, I did whatever I had to do to survive. My actions were not always smart, but they got me through the rough times and thatˆs all that mattered.

My attendance at ISU marked the beginning of a valuable lesson, that being a formal art education can be a powerful thing. I studied art history, graphic design, sculpture, architecture, printmaking, and film. I was exposed to many new forms of self-expression. In practice, they remained unrelated until I discovered my passion for photography. I quickly became addicted to this new art. Somehow, this new drug opened my eyes and made me more cognizant of the design principles that unified the other art forms. Photography made me a better artist. Despite this new clarity of vision, there were still a few things I couldn't predict. They would be revealed soon after graduation.

Art Appreciation   In 1991, I learned that a college degree is, sometimes, only worth the paper on which it's printed. Why? Because it©ˆs not a voucher that gives you the right to succeed. Itˆs a voucher that gives you the right to play the game on a slightly different level. A level with both elevated benefits and expectations. But you have to be aware of the things that you don't know. You also have to take every opportunity to learn those things. And what I didn't know was that my education was sub-par. I didn't know that in order to get a job as a photographer at Vogue magazine, I'd have to have a working knowledge of professional studio equipment, lighting theory, experience as a photo stylist, and a portfolio filled with images that would justify my enormous creative ego. I had none of the above. So, my degree remained packed away while I went back to school.

This time, it was St. Louis Community College at Forest Park. I was determined to get what I had previously been denied. Oh, yes! Things would be different this time around. I'd already looked at the magazines and professional journals. I was well aware of the specific skills I lacked. Playtime was over. It was time to get down to some serious business. I sat at the front of every class, asked and answered as many questions as I could, and put the lessons into practice outside the classroom. After a year of additional instruction, I was ready for the world.

Along the path to self-improvement, I realized something very important: When preparation and opportunity cross paths, the results are life-altering. Case in point: While working in the basement of Famous-Barr as a sign maker for the visual merchandising department, I heard of a job opening in the advertising department. An art director, whom I would later recognize as one of the most influential people in my career, was in dire need of a layout artist. The job required the ability to create fashion illustrations and computerized magazine layouts. The job seemed like a perfect fit for me—so I asked her for an interview. Every couple of days thereafter, I'd leave work samples under her office door. I'm not sure if my persistence or her desperation got me the job, but it was the break I needed.

From that humble beginning filled with triumphs, failures and hard-learned lessons, I've gone on to become Art Director for The May Merchandising Company, A-Magazine, The St. Louis American newspaper, and The Electrical Distributor Magazine. I've even spread my entrepreneurial wings, going on to publish The Industry Magazine and producer a public-access cable program of the same name. For more than 15 years, I've worked as a freelance photographer—accepting creative assignments at my own discretion. In the 9-to-5 world, I've served as marketing manager for a trade association and a local community college—further enhancing my creative and business skills.
 
Full circle   As I return to the core disciplines that set me on this path, painting and drawing, I walk with a more clear understanding of art's power. It gives the ability to influence the thoughts and actions of others—allowing them to appreciate the simple things they've somehow managed to overlook, or desire things they simply cannot have. Art speaks with words for which there are no definitions, providing inspiration to procreate or march in protest. Its' subjects matter—and it subjects matter to infinite forms of creative expression.
 
Selfishly, I hope to become a famous artist—my work recognized and valued by the communities from which it has come. Honestly, I'm just thankful to be able to use the gift that God has given me. Not many people have been blessed with that opportunity. I'm glad to be one who has.