For some reason this painting took forever for the gallery to sell. I would have thought otherwise. Only 2 are still in my possession, and I understand why those never sold (Floodplain and Noah Forgotten). Just now, as I’m typing this, the image above is cut in half. I can only see the bottom part, and it looks very pleasant: sleeping man, books, and water. When I isolate the top half, the feeling is entirely different: parched, with that evil looking kid. I guess he overwhelms the rest.

Thanks, Terry (for some reason I’m just discovering your post now). The Hours showed twice (OCMA in 2001, and Laband Gallery in 2002), and I doubt they will ever come back together again. They are spread across the country. One was damaged in shipping, and I don’t think that collector will ever let it travel again.
The magazine cover was a surprise to me. They’d asked for studio shots for the article, and I sent two, one normal, and the other posing as an art world bad-boy with a giant brush. Guess which one made the cover!

Maybe they will be brought together again when you have your retrospective at LACMA. The post was in response to somthing else and ended up under this painting! Also have really been enjoying your interview, which I have been listening to in stages. Thank you so much for sharing all of this!

Thanks, Kenny. I’ve really enjoyed posting it. I feel it gives a pretty good idea of how I put a painting together, and that there will be a few artists that will find it useful. For many it is probably way too much information, but for that very few…

Hi Judith. There is a catalogue of the show, from the Orange County Museum of Art in 2000. It didn’t have the drawings, but did have short fiction from me under each image, and a 23 page essay on the Hours of the Day from Richard Vine. There might still be some available from OCMA, and there are usually some to be found on Amazon, but used. The book was really beautiful, in a cloth slip-cover, designed by Liz Finger.
I’d love to get it published with the drawings and commentary. What I need is a business manager to take care of this kind of thing!

Hah! It is so funny you should say that, Ashley. When my eldest daughter was three we traveled through Spain. I’d given her a book on Goya, and as soon as we got inside the door of the Prado Museum she started chanting, “Goya, Goya, Goya!” I wanted to look through the paintings on the first floor, but she’d have none of it. We had to go upstairs to look at the Goyas before she would quiet down.