FOREVER LOST EITEL PAINTINGS & THE ARTBREAK HOETEL

I photographed a lot of these before they were done. They're from the past 10 years or so. When they were done I either sold them for very little through gallery dealers to people I never met, most of whom were outside the country. The others I gave to friends, but most I simply threw away by putting out on the street. Some have turned up years later in friends antique stores in the city. Have never let go of the black face ones of Serena and they are large. Most of my art has ended in destruction or abandonment, literally. I think it stems from the incident I had in high school. Ok... Here goes... I supported this hooker and paid for an apartment for us on E.65th street when I was in 11th grade. When I tried to leave him... He uh... Well, he locked me out of the house in my underwear and socks and slashed all my painting top to bottom with a blade and poured rubbing alcohol on them and set them on fire. When the fire became to overwhelming and threatened the building, he threw them out the window on the street where I clamored around half nude trying to save them. I moved out soon after and I think I sewed one up and painted on one some more, it's all sort of hazy. I went to SVA for fine arts after high school, then 4 years of photography at the same school. But I always had a heavy hand after that horror show. My reluctance to make things has a lot to do with this. I don't know, I don't think about it much. It was a long time ago. A big fear of mine is that I will lose my mind if I ever involve myself in making the brilliant things I can actually make. Besides, art is so messy and I never had any ambition in trying to get anyone to show it in a gallery. So many mediocre and flat out bad artists are famous. I can't perform socially like they must have. Frankly, it makes me sick. Terrible stuff out there. The male hustler? I have no idea what became of him. He was in his early 30's when I was the youngest john he ever had and he was a very troubled man. He's probably dead. I don't say that wishfully, just honestly. Those were rough days and most people I knew like him are indeed gone.




















HEY - You know what? Screwit: The old son of a bitch hustler's name was Lawrence Frantz. If you see him outside of OTB chewing his lower lip give him a napkin.