When I was working in Hollywood I bought a get-away home in Southampton, New York. It was a nice house with a beautiful outside view of a farm field and a stark inside view of empty walls begging for artwork, of which I owned none. I began scouring the New York art galleries and finally found a piece in Soho that grabbed my interest -- a large black and red color field with an intimidating price tag. On move-in day I was disappointed to find that the previous owner had failed to clear out a large stack of plywood in the basement; my first homeowner chore would be hauling huge sheets of junk upstairs and out to the garbage. As I began to haul my mind’s eye realized that these sheets of plywood, four feet by eight feet, were the same size as the painting I liked in Soho. Hmm, I thought, two colors, how hard could that be?
I hopped in my car and drove to an art store. Who knows, maybe it was the same store that supplied local artists Willem de Kooning and Roy Lichtenstein. I bought two tubes of acrylic, one paintbrush, and a pencil and paid the bill of $9.87. Back in the basement I laid out one sheet of plywood on the floor, drew a rectangular shape, and began to fill in the center with red. The phone rang. It was a friend of mine from Los Angeles, “Hey, Gary, what are you doing?” “Painting a picture.” “You?” “Me -- wait -- I’m almost done -- there, finished.” I stepped back to examine my two-color work of art. It seemed very close to what I’d seen in the gallery in Soho. My friend asked, “How’s it look?” I said, “Who cares -- I just saved $18,990.13.”
TOUR THE WAREHOUSE