SELL OUT

I know there's been no talk of hunting or pics of supermodels for a long time in a blog dedicated to such. Patience. Bow season opens Oct. 1 and I have promises from my photog. friends that long legged, scantily clad supermodels are coming. Can't hurry these things. In the meanwhile it's art, religion, money and boredom that seem to be most on my mind. This summer has been a watershed. Both parents now gone, turning 70, a drained bank account, a small toe dipped back into the NYC art scene, and 7 churches now under our belt, from the Glen Wild sanctuary, finds me searching for a way to entertain myself, for how ever much time I have left. As always, in order to go forward, I look back.
    I started my career in SF in the late 70's. Frustrated with the limited opportunities available to me, as a young artist, I started to search out spaces within which I could reach the public directly. These were the days where this was a possibility for those of us on a shoe string budget. With a little digging you could get a billionaire on the phone and negotiate rent for a unique public space. Case in point were the large display windows of the old JC Penney building on Market St. Bob Lurie (owner of the SF Giants) owned the empty building. I made a deal with him (over the phone) for renting those big windows for $100 per month. I then curated a small group of artists to do pieces in the windows. Everything went well, until Karen Finley cracked one during a naked, lunch time rant. Years later, in NY, I got art mogul/billionaire Peter Brant on the phone and pitched an idea for "World's Smallest Museum" in an old Newsstand he owned, attached to the Downtown Guggenheim on Broadway and Spring. It took 6 months of meetings for him to say no. The point being, I still was able to get him on the phone and take me seriously, as late as 1992.

That was probably the last time I tried to rent someone else's venue for a public showing. From then on I knew I could never afford it. Rental real estate had gone through the roof in the city and I'd had enough. If one couldn't interest another in promoting one's work in an existing space, then good luck. Since then I've been in Glen Wild. At first it was just me and beefalo farmer Ray Gilkey. But over the years, by no effort of my own, a little artsy community has evolved. Even the "farmers" have big bank accounts and degrees from Yale. Famous artists live down the road and one would think that this, with emerging "foundations" and boutique operations, would be encouraging enough to keep me going. I'm sorry to say it is not.
   I am in the (local) public eye. I place billboards in my front of the church for the drive-by and Shewho and I re-opened MO David as MO David North. The churches are packed, youthful and chaotic. MO North openings are well attended. From time to time we get a little press. This should be enough for anyone, no? It would be, if not for one little issue.......money. I may have spent a career doing work that some would categorize as "difficult", yet there it is, stacked up canvases and sculptures ready for acknowledgement, appreciation.....and dare I say- sale. This is the bottom line, the words I dare not speak. Because as everyone knows you can't count on selling your work. But wait. Why the fuck not? Is this not the bottom line? How much time do you think I have left?
   So now I'm pondering a move back to the city. Recently I was in a NYTimes review of a summertime group show. To paraphrase the critic- "Mike Osterhout showed two 4'x7' billboards. One said GOD LOVES FAGS. The other stated "God Loves Dykes"." With art criticism like this, so perceptive and didactic, I feel I should strike while the iron is hot. This could be my big break- my come back. I have a suit and an old pair of black shoes. Maybe it's time to make the scene again. I bet I could find a little store front in the EV and set up shop. How bad could rents be?