JERRY FOSTER seldom grants interviews and avoids any kind of publicity. But since, as he said, he’s “beginning to feel his own mortality,” he made an exception in our case and actually stopped painting long enough to answer some questions. He’s been an artist all his life, self taught, and for the past 38 years has made his living from his work. And although he has lived in Santa Cruz for the past 30 years, few people here are familiar with his bright, happy, funny, and often sardonic paintings because…well, let’s be honest…he’s sort of a misanthrope!
He put down his paints and brushes—something hard for him to do—and met us out on the brick and redwood patio he built in his back yard…a slice from Brazil, one of his favorite haunts, where he has spent many years living, traveling, painting and goofing off. He has also lived for extensive periods in Argentina and Spain, and has traveled extensively here, there, and everywhere. His paintings reflect his travels as well.
Jerry holds a PhD from the University of California in Latin American Studies, but says it was the result of a misspent youth. He’s conversant in 5 languages and speaks 3 of them fluently. The rest of the time he spends here with his girlfriend, 2 cats, living, painting and goofing off. Jerry just turned 70, has long white hair and beard, three earrings in his left ear and two in his right and looks every bit the bohemian artist he is. Women find him scary but intriguing. Men simply find him scary. He is a man at peace with himself if not the world.
CAM:
The first question should be, I guess, who or what influenced you and your art and when did you start doing it? Or can you remember that far back?
Jerry Foster:
Very funny! My first influence was my mom, of course, because she was very artistic herself. She was a kindergarten teacher and always had tons of art supplies around—watercolors, crayons, paper, pencils, finger paints etc. She always encouraged us to play with them and do stuff. It kept us busy and out of her hair, too, I suppose. So by the time I was 3 or 4 or something, I had a real interest in painting and drawing and was always doing something or other. It was really fun for me. Still is. I was always fascinated by the different colors, too. I remember we used to buy little squares of bubble gum which came in bright pinks, blues, purples, greens, yellows, and I would unwrap them and put them together in neat color combinations. I think I learned a lot about color by playing with those little bubble gum squares.
CAM:
Really? That seems like a funny way to learn about color!
Jerry Foster:
Well, I remember not wanting to chew them because I just liked to look at them and play with them. The colors really were fun. They were probably carcinogenic or something, too, which is why you can’t buy them any more. Then I remember finding a book about Arizona, when I was 8 or 9, written by a cartoonist named Reg Manning who worked for the Arizona Sun. I really loved that book because it was funny and interesting and had lots of little cartoons in it which I would copy. Also, there was some guy on TV that would give kids lessons in drawing cartoons. I don’t remember his name but I still have some of the things he taught us. Those are really the only influences I can think of. So, putting it all together created my style and technique which is essentially the pen and ink drawings and humor of the cartoonist together with neato bubble gum colors. It is a true mirror to my soul. No kidding!
CAM:
A bubble gum soul, eh? How sweet!
Jerry Foster:
Sweet and bubbly.
CAM:
What kinds of images did you start out with and what mediums did you use?
Jerry Foster:
When I was in 1st grade there was a big picture of a deer on the wall. It was the one used by the Hartford Insurance Co. as their logo. I remember copying that picture over and over again, trying to get my deer to look like the one in the picture. Then one time another student said, “You think you’re smart always drawing deer, don’t you”? So I stopped. Peer pressure and all that, you know. Later I remember doing a whole scrapbook of birds which I drew and colored with crayon. I chose the birds that were the brightest colors and had the most interesting designs—cockatoos, toucans, parrots, quetzales. Then I got interested in horses and cows, also some people. When I was in 5th grade our teacher was an artist so he really encouraged all of us to paint and draw. He got us into still life and other things I had never thought about. Every week he would put all our work up on the board and we would choose which piece we thot best. I now have grave reservations about art competitions of any kind, but at the time it seemed only mildly embarrassing. It often came down to my work and the work of Myrna Calloway. Myrna was really cute and sat at the desk across from mine. She was a great artist and we drew hearts on each other’s arm with our initials and an arrow running thru and all the neat stuff that 10 year olds do. I’m not sure whether or not she was even in school for the whole year or just part of it. Whatever the case, I remember that suddenly, one day, she just wasn’t there any more and I never saw or heard from her again. I’ve wondered a million times over the years whatever happened to her and how her life has gone and if she’s still an artist and what kind of work she does now etc. So that 5th grade class was an important time for me…all having to do with art and love. I suspect they’re the same thing. But I digress…
CAM:
Yeah, stick to the subject. I’m sure little Myrna was just darling and all, but I have more important questions to ask. Like, how has your work progressed as to style, subjects, medium, etc. and why?
Jerry Foster:
My style is essentially the same as when I began as a child, I think, it’s just more sophisticated now. But not a whole lot more sophisticated. All the essential components are there. At first, when I was a kid, I would usually use crayons with a black outline or watercolors with pen and ink. Later, when acrylics came out in the 60s, I got really serious about painting and started using them because the colors are so bright and intense can go on flat for inking over. They dry fast and you can use pen and ink over the colors and get the same effect as with the watercolors but with greater intensity. I still do watercolors from time to time but the saturation of the acrylics is very compelling. However, they’re more stiff, not as free as watercolor. It’s a trade off. About the time acrylics came out I got interested in drawing and painting architecture and street scenes and cars and that has stayed with me. I still like to do them. I went for many years never doing any people. Just inanimate things. But I did them in a way so that they were animated, full of life. The cartoon thing again. For the past few years I’ve been doing more people and have really become interested in the possibilities they offer.
CAM:
That’s strange. Most artists seem to start out with people and then progress to other things. Anyway, this next question may be a bit lame, but how long does it take you to paint one of your paintings.
Jerry Foster::
It is a lame question but fascinating. It’s one I always want to know the answer to as well. Silly, huh? At any rate, I’m what good old dead Miguel de Unamuno calls a vivípero artist. According to him, artists are generally of two kinds: ovípero or vivípero. Essentially, an ovípero lays an egg and waits for it to develop into something. A vivípero gives live birth to a finished work. With me, for instance, an idea comes into my head and I work on it there until I have it all planned out, all conceptualized. Then I merely copy it onto the canvas from my head. It comes out whole. I seldom need to change anything from what it was. Maybe I need to adjust certain spatial relationships, or color combinations, or the split between reality and irreality to assure balance. I can’t do those things totally in my head because they’re all intuitive, emotional at the time of painting. But most of the work pretty much goes on in my head before the fact. A priori. Sometimes this process takes years to germinate and mature, bring to fruition. My painting of Broadway in San Francisco, for example, took about 5 years of rolling around in my brain before it was ready. Other times it’s only a question of seconds. The good thing about being a vivípero is that you can carry your canvas around in your head and work on the painting anytime you like. It’s totally portable. The actual painting itself, the applying paint to surface, usually takes anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks. Working pretty much constantly, as you know. I build up the color using anywhere from 3 to 6 or more thin layers of paint. This gives the work its brilliance, its saturation, and smooth surface.
I have a friend who works just the opposite. Rather, I should say, I had a friend. Steve, (for thus he was called) was my artistic soul brother, my twin, my co-conspirator in crime. I loved him. He was a special, wonderful spirit. Unfortunately, he converted to Scientology, changed his personality, and just vanished into some vacant space, leaving behind his uninhibited body to wander about. He became surly and impatient. Dogmatic. His art became calculatedly commercial and lost its soul. When you looked into his eyes, no one was home.
But that’s another story. His painting style was ovípero. He would start with a blank canvas, without prior vision, with no preconceived idea, place his pen or whatever onto the canvas and just let the muse take over and direct the outcome. There was no beginning idea for him to process. There was no idea at all. His creations were wonderfully insane. At least before he got religion, that is.
CAM:
How does what you said about your artistic style, your vivíperoness, affect your life in general? Do you live it the same, live-birth way?
Jerry Foster:
Hmmm…I’ve actually never thought about it before, but now that you bring it up, unlike my painting process my life process develops in the ovípero mode. Like some sort of surreal wandering, some demented automatic writing, I let my life just develop on its own terms, with little conscious direction from me or view to the future. Consequently, my life seems to have some unconscious muse of its own. I just go along for the ride. I am not goal oriented. Bad currency in today’s world. But of all the people I know, I’m the happiest, the most free.
CAM:
You do always seem happy and free. And how about your painting? Do you have some personal philosophy about art or what it is that guides you?
Jerry Foster:
Definitely! It’s something I’ve thought a lot about.
CAM:
I was sure you had and that your ideas would be whacked out, as usual.
Jerry Foster:
Well, I don’t believe art is a thing. I think it’s more an event or a precess. Art is the creation of an artist. Pure and simple. This, of course, leads to the obvious question of what an artist is, and in my view an artist is someone who works out of love for what he is doing, someone who puts her soul, his being, all their attention into the work. Someone who works authentically, honestly, trying to do the best she is capable of, to give a true view of what is loved. Anyone who puts this authentic effort, this joy, this honesty into their work is an artist. It can’t be faked. Ultimately, of course, the artist is really the only one who knows for sure if he is working from love or is working from other motives such as fame or fortune or whatever. The artist is the final judge.
By the way, the Portuguese and Spanish word amador, the Italian amatore, and the French and English word amateur all come from the Latin word amatorem and get at this concept of working or doing ones art out of love. Unfortunately, the meaning has become corrupted, a pejorative, to mean someone who doesn’t make money doing what they do—an amateur as opposed to a professional— so the idea of working from love has been lost. I think that’s too bad because love is really at the root of all art.
I also think that great artists are great because they do work from love for the work. When that happens, because they love what they are doing, they spend lots of time and energy and effort working at their thing and they just keep getting better and better, greater and greater. Obviously, then, anyone can be an artist—it’s not limited to painters or sculptors or writers or actors etc.— teaching, garbage collecting, land appraisal, child rearing, can be done by putting the best you have inside you into what you do, working from joy, happiness, fun, games. It’s serious stuff! In other words, an artist is someone who establishes a special relationship between him/herself and the work. In my case, the work comes out of my emotional and intellectual turn-ons, my passions. (I almost hate to use the word “passion” here because it has become a mantra for art students and schools to recite, and as such, has lost any real meaning beyond a badge of approval from their teachers and peers.)
CAM:
Tell me about it! That’s all anybody talks about at school. It’s really depressing.
Jerry Foster:
Well, I think passion and love is generated out of doing things you really find fun and interesting. Things you really like. School is all about doing things that the teachers and other authority figures want you to do. School is about pleasing the teacher. It can be very depressing. Being an artist is all about pleasing yourself. I can only paint something if I’m really interested in the subject or whatever— subjects that have an impact—either emotionally or intellectually. Things I see or ideas I get or just things I imagine. Nostalgia, satire, fantasy, humor are the concepts that turn me on the most. I like to poke fun at sacred cows, cast a warped or suspicious eye on everyday objects and events, paint something that has touched me in some way. The painting itself—the mechanical process of creating the image—is something that has to be done, from my point of view, with the greatest skill, care, attention to detail, the greatest degree of love that I can muster. It sounds heavy but it’s not. It’s fun. Full of joy for me. When I do a painting of something that has piqued my interest, it only stands to reason that all the ingredients need to be the best that I can come up with to create the rendering in the best way I know how, with the most honesty, skill, insight, joy, etc. It’s all very intuitive. To me, the love for the work and the attitude this love engenders is what distinguishes an artist from someone who’s just doing a job or trying to impress others or just wants to make money. If someone is working only to garner fame, to astound or impress, or for any ulterior motive other than love for the work, then that work will be dull and lifeless, devoid of the spark that gives it force. And when you do work that you really like and that you think is really neat, then it’s easy to put the kind of energy into it that makes it art. And other people recognize that too. Love gets infused into the work for all to see, or at least for those tuned in to see. Many times people tell me, “Even if we didn’t see you here with your work we would know you were the one who did it.” My work is a reflection of who and what I am. This is why, I think, it is really hard for me to sell my original paintings. After you put so much of yourself into something, it’s hard to let go of it. If it weren’t for the fact that I can make prints of the paintings to sell, I would probably starve to death. Weird, huh?
CAM:
Very! I remember you stopped selling your originals except in very special cases. At the time I thot it very strange, but now I can understand it more. Sort of. I guess they become like your children so you don’t want to sell them, no?
Jerry Foster:
Well, actually, I tried to sell my kids a couple of times during their teen years, but I got no takers.
CAM:
Very funny! Well, that’s about all the questions I have for now. Is there anyway for people to contact you should they care to purchase any of your work? How about an address or website or something. Telephone?
Jerry Foster:
NO! No telephone. People who want to contact me can visit my website at http://www.jerryfoster.com and email me from there. That’s the best I can do.
CAM:
OK, thanks for the interview. But next time I want you to tell us what you really think!
