INTERVIEW

Interview by Harryet Candee

How did you get into oil paints.?

         One of the first things I remember was the fragrance of linseed oil. My father was a fresco muralist and easel painter, so there were always brushes and paint tubes around the house.

         When I was older, eighteen or so, I started studying painting with my uncle, Alfred Crimi, also a fresco muralist and easel painter.

 How did having family in the arts affect you?

         I was awed by their accomplishments. This awe also spilled over to another painter who was a major influence, Willem de Kooning. I was totally impressed by what he was doing with paint. As with my family, his beginnings were European. He was also able to get into the American groove, as well as contribute to it.

         I found myself caught between the blatant power of the Abstract Expressionism tidal wave and the long-standing calm and exquisiteness of Old World painting. A lot of painters did at the time.

         Alfred instructed me in the European approach of development while everyone around me was slapping, dripping, and plopping paint. Knowing that de Kooning studied academic drawing in Holland, underlined what Alfred was encouraging me to do…charcoal drawings from the antique; the time proven method of developing an informed hand and discerning eye.

         What I didn’t have in my paint box, at the time, was the understanding that any manner of applying paint to canvas requires a strong foundation as well as a directed intuition.

 You mentioned a directed intuition. What does that mean for you.

         Intuition is our built-in GPS system. It always does us well. I go to it when I pick up a brush; like Zen and archery, keeping the intellect out of it, becoming the bow and arrow and, similarly, becoming the brush—sounds like David Carradine. 

 Did you ever give attention, in that seminal period, to other disciplines?

          Along with my studies with Alfred, there were my visits to jazz clubs that were close to my studio: The Half Note, The Five Spot, and the Village Vanguard. Hearing the brilliant ideas and artistry of the jazz musicians Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, and Charles Mingus, who appeared frequently in these clubs, was an essential part of my development. They were some of the most courageous, individualistic, innovative thinkers that I ever met.

         It was spontaneous combustion in all the arts in New York City of the late 1950s and early 60s—very exciting, very compelling. Fabulous things were happening in painting, dance, music, prose, poetry and sculpture. It was a renaissance without patrons; no singular message was being enforced. It was truly an uprising of the creative spirit, most incredible. Those times still live in me.

 Does your focus on a style include an ongoing challenge?

         I let the style come out of the moment. It’s important for me to pay attention to what the colors are saying, to be intuitive with them and not try to bend them to my will or squeeze them into a formula. It’s keeping my ego out of the process that’s the real challenge. The process is more one of revelation.         

 Looking at your colors, the widespread areas of pure color and shape, I feel that they bring together a world of joy and excitement. What do you feel?

         I’m delighted that they do that for you. The use of oil paint is a major part of the impact. Pigments suspended in oil allow for a luminosity that isn’t achieved elsewhere. A layer of oil paint enhances the reflection of colors beneath by allowing light rays to reflect through…it doesn’t block them out.

         Alterations create additional layers which add to the luminosity. Moving the forms around only enhances the surface effect.

 Do you ever want to move far, far away?

         Do you mean getting away from one’s spectrum of emotions, relentless flow of thoughts, doubts and constant decisions? You know that you carry all that with you? I like where I am, being steeped in what we call “Nature,” understanding that I’m not an entity separate from it.

         Reason doesn’t exist in Nature and that suits me just fine. Nature isn’t trying to get to anything. It has no objective. It just is. Isn’t that great? You know when you love someone so much you just want to hug them and break through, right? That’s the feeling.

 How does your environment affect your persistence in painting?

         That’s very astute of you to notice that I paint persistently. The impulse to paint…that has been with me for a long time. It’s still a mystery to me. My present environment allows for that impulse to flow, along with harmonic diet, resistance training, hiking, dancing, and love-making.

 How does one get around the survival / struggle with making money?

         That’s not an easy question to answer. I guess by being conscious, staying on one’s toes, being agile.

 I love the freshness and brilliance in your paintings, Bob. Do you ever get bored of using color, and just break down to black and white?

         Once in a while, I’ll use white and black house paint. It’s an excellent way of honing a compositional sense while implying color. 

 The excitement of a new discovery, no matter how minor it may be, can be the key to allowing the whole painting experience to continue. What have you discovered?

         That I know less than I think I do. 

 I know your studio is open for people to visit; are you learning simple, powerful ways to get people to respond to seeing your work?

         The open studio idea has always been around. It's a viable alternative to galleries and museums. Each venue has its place. Galleries and museums also seek responses but I don’t think there’s any simple way.

 How would you describe your work?

         Lovingly.