The Art and The Passion: Frank Frazetta

Master comic artist Frank Frazetta passed away Monday, May 10^th, 2010, at the age of 82. As I read the news notice of his death, I was struck not only by the sudden embarassing realization that I didn’t even know that one of the artists I idolized in my youth had still been living, but I was also struck with a flood of memories of Frazetta’s work, and the impact it had on my life as an aspiring young artist. I was also taken back to the first time I was exposed to Frazetta’s work.

Because television was still in its relative youth when I was growing up on Chicago’s south side, and personal computers were little more than the subject of science fiction stories, I entertained myself by reading, mostly with comic books or heavily illustrated books like the Mother Goose and Brothers Grimm tales, or Maurice Sendak’s “Where the Wild Things Are.” As I got a little older, I found both an imaginative outlet and artistic inspiration in the comic books of DC and Marvel, and the brilliant artists that illustrated them- Jack Kirby, Neal Adams, Joe Ordway, Steve Ditko, and many others. I began to use these masters as guidelines to self teach and hone my artistic skills. Simply by studying the exceptional use of lines, shadow, contrast and color that these artists employed, I found my skill level, and my sheer enthusiasm for drawing growing rapidly. I could even actually envision the day that I might even match or exceed the talent of these great illustrators. What I didn’t see at the time was where I might flesh out my visions and stories, which were ones of horror, not heroism, inspired more by magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland, and the legendary EC horror comics from the 1950s (that were by then no longer being made).

Then one day, after showing some of my artwork and some of the comic books that inspired it to the girl next door that I had a mild crush on, she took me to the magazine stand at our local grocery store and pointed out a magazine called Creepy. It wasn’t technically a comic book (it was a “magazine” put out by Warren Publishing, the same company that put out Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine), but everything about it appealed to me the same way that conventional comic books did. I took to it immediately and bought the magazine, ignoring the fact that it cost several times what regular comic books cost. I had begun to stop collecting comic books and saved all my spare money to buy not only the new Creepy magazine each month, but its companion magzine, Eerie. I relished in the dark tales and even greater variety of expert illustrators found in these magazines- people like Wally Wood, Reed Crandall, Angelo Torres, and many others that I later came to find were once some of the core artists for the EC comic books that I cherished.

Several months into building my new collection, I came upon the new Creepy magazine at my trusty grocery store magazine section- Creepy #32. The cover was different from anything I had seen on the previous issues….or on any comic or magazine cover, for that matter. It was a very simple scene- a hulking demon or ape like creature overlooking a distant town from a high cliff on a gloomy night- but it was visually striking, a true painting with rich textures and colors that created subtle but dynamic light and shadow contrasts that themselves suggested motion and activity. The picture seemed alive, and I found myself studying the magazine cover as much as I was reading the contents. When I saw that the cover artist was a man named Frank Frazetta, I looked for other issues of Creepy and Eerie (and Warren’s recently launched sister magazine to them, Vampirella) that featured Frazetta art covers. When I found that Frazetta had painted a number of the early issues of Creepy and Eerie, I began ordering as many as I could afford. Not suprisingly, most of those issues were no longer available from the publisher, but I was fortunate to find many of them at the annual Chicago Comicon (now known as Wizard World), and snatched them up as quickly as I could.

Suddenly, I began to notice Frazetta’s work on other publications- covers of Tarzan paperback novels, compilations of renowned comic book artists and the like. I marveled at Frazetta’s depiction of the human form, especially the female form, at once voluptuous and athletic. His ability to make warriors like Conan the Barbarian look like they themselves were chiseled from stone, slaughtering opponents as if the lead dancer in a bloody ballet. His scenes had a way of compelling me to imagine what must have come before, and what might occur after. I could sense his passion for all of these things in his work. Frazetta’s paintings attracted me in a way that no other pop culture artist’s work did- not (Boris) Vallejo’s, not (Gil) Elvgren’s, not even (Norman) Rockwell’s. From studying Frazetta’s work, I not only developed a passion for acrylic and oil painting, but I learned about picture composition and how to use light and shadow, foreground and brilliant color contrast to guide, and hold the viewer’s attention. Most importantly, I learned about how those qualities could give the illusion of complexity and detail to an otherwise simple painting when applied effectively.

I spent countless hours teaching myself how to paint with acrylics and oil, trying in vain to capture what Frazetta seemed to be able to capture so effortlessly. My work and skill improved, and my love of the creative process was never stronger, but I was missing that certain “magic” that Frazetta seemed to be able to instill in his work. The quality of my paintings never seemed to be able to even approach his, and I eventually trashed numerous uncompleted paintings out of frustration. What I had not yet learned at that still early stage in my artistic development was the reason that Frank Frazetta appeared to be the only one able to do what he did- it was, simply, his uniquely personal style. Frazetta could almost certainly have done what Rockwell and his other contemporaries did, and vice versa. But it simply wouldn’t have been Frazetta. If I worked at it long and hard enough, I could eventually do what Frazetta and the other comic book masters did. But I would only be imitating him, and them. And that was perhaps the most important, and liberating thing I ever learned as an artist….to seek and find my own uniquely personal style, not try to be the latest version of someone else- granted, a thing easier said than done. It is almost certainly what other comic book masters, and cover painters, already knew.

I learned these things primarily from studying Frazetta’s work. As I got older, and life’s curveballs detoured me away from my artistic ambitions, the memory of Frazetta, his work, how it affected me and what I was able to learn from it as an artist, remained. And as I now embark on my long overdue quest to finally fulfill my artistic promise, I am saddened to know I will never get to meet one of my artistic idols in person, let alone share with him what he would have inspired me to create. But I remain inspired to continue to reach for the magic that Frank Frazetta showed us could be achieved with an artist’s passion, some sound basic skills, a bit of imaginative vision and dedication to one’s own personal style.

A Sober Viewpoint- Derek Jeter, Ron Santo and Respect

Last week, New York Yankees all star infielder Derek Jeter passed Yankee, and baseball legend Lou Gehrig to become the all time base hits leader in New York Yankees history. Although Yankees fans and hardcore baseball fans are probably the only ones that will really care, this particular achievement can serve as an object lesson in respect, and the lengths to which some people in sports will sometimes go to not give great athletes their due, for whatever reasons.

On Friday night, September 11th (the 8th anniversary of the infamous 9/11 terrorist attacks, by the way), Jeter got his 2,722nd base hit, supassing Gehrig as the all time hits leader of the New York Yankees. Apparent detractors of Jeter’s accomplishment quickly and eagerly pointed out that Jeter as a whole is nowhere near the caliber player that Gehrig was. Thank them for pointing out the painfully obvious- there probably aren’t 20 players in all of baseball history that rate with Gehrig (who accumulated over 2,700 hits, 493 home runs and a lifetime batting average well over .300 during a 15 year career in which he played 2,130 straight games, earning him the nickname “Iron Horse”). MSNBC’s Keith Olbermann pointed out that if Gehrig’s career had not been cut short by the disease that eventually killed him and now bears him name, Gehrig wold certainly have ended up with even more staggering career numbers. Gee Keith, really? Such comments assume, among other things, that Gehrig wouldn’t have had his career cut short some other way- like via injury, or simply ending it himself the way Jim Brown ended his football career at its peak.

Then, there are those that, while conceding Jeter’s surpassing of Gehrig in anything is quite an achievement, still cite that Jeter has not (yet) reached the hallowed 3,000 hit mark that many consider the standard by which we judge the true offensive greatness of baseball’s all time greats. Never mind that some of the game’s greatest players- Gehrig, Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Reggie Jackson, Joe DiMaggio- fell short of 3,000 career hits….and that’s just the Yankee players in the Hall of Fame. In getting his 2,722nd base hit, Derek Jeter ascended to no. 53 on the all time base hits list.

What exactly does that mean? Quite frankly, it means that the still relatively young (35) Jeter has outhit all but 52 other players in the recorded history of a game that has been played professionally for nearly 135 years, and been played by tens of thousands of men at the professional level. At his current hitting pace, Jeter will have ascended into the top 50 all time by the end of this current baseball season. And, barring career ending injury or incident, there is every reason to believe that Jeter will surpass that 3,000 hit milestone within another few years.

Derek Jeter, however, is no larger than life romantic figure, like Gehrig and other legends of the game. Jeter doesn’t strike fear into the hearts of pitchers and hit monstrously long home runs the way Ruth, Mantle and Reggie Jackson did. He doesn’t make incredible defensive plays the way Brooks Robinson and Ozzie Smith did. He doesn’t steal bases at will the way Lou Brock and Rickey Henderson did. Unlike Gehrig and Cal Ripken, Jeter has actually missed some games during his career. Jeter is simply a very reliable and productive top notch player with matinee idol looks. Though clearly a great player, he isn’t exactly the stuff of which baseball legends are made. So it seems to come down to a matter of respect….or rather, the lack of it for what Jeter has achieved. Would Jeter make it to the Hall of Fame if he stopped playing today? Probably- he is, after all, an all star player with the most storied franchise in the game’s history. But what if Jeter weren’t a Yankee? What if he didn’t play for a World Series champion? Would his accomplishments to date be enough?

Quite probably not, when you consider the many players with better personal stats than Jeter currently has that have yet to be enshrined in baseball’s Hall of Fame, or that might never get in. Players that didn’t play for the Yankees, or some other mythicized east coast ball club, or didn’t play for a World Series champion. When you consider some of the individuals still not in the Hall of Fame, it begins to beg the question; just what criteria do sports writers (who comprise most of the individuals that vote players into the Hall of Fame) consider for enshrinement into the hall? Do they consider any criteria at all, other than their own gut feelings, childhood memories or recollections of some outstanding single incident or incident(s)?

Former Los Angeles Dodgers great Steve Garvey didn’t just play for a World Series champion, he was their Most Valuable Player, as well as the record holder for consecutive games played in baseball’s National League (Gehrig and Cal Ripken played in the American League), not to mention one of the highest fielding percentages at his position (first base) in the game’s history. If being the National League’s “Iron Man” doesn’t merit Hall of Fame enshrinement, what then does? Is it that Garvey fell short of 3,000 hits by a few hundred himself? Or he wasn’t a 400-500 home run hitter? Or was it something more personal- he didn’t make the right impression on Hall of Fame voters- sports writers, or was the center of too much scandal in his personal and/or post game life? What then of Andre Dawson- a prolific power switch hitter with nearly 2,800 career hits and nearly 440 home runs? Considering that every single hitter ahead of Dawson on the all time list is already in the Hall (with the sole exceptions of steroid suspects Barry Bonds and Rafael Palmeiro, and Craig Biggio, who only just retired), shouldn’t Dawson have already been voted in, despite having played for such doormats as Montreal, Florida and the Chicago Cubs? Dawson did actually win league MVP as a Chicago Cub- what more is needed to earn membership in the Hall? There are many others like Garvey and Dawson who are clearly not getting their due respect (Bert Blyleven, Gil Hodges, Harold Baines, etc., etc.), but as a lifelong Chicago baseball fan, my thoughts inevitably end up on baseball’s poster boy for Hall of Fame disrespect, Ron Santo.

The very debate over what makes a player deserving of Hall of Fame enshrinement began (and continues to this day) with Santo, the all star third baseman of the Chicago Cubs during the 1960s, and current radio color commentator for today’s Cubs.  Even though Santo is among my personal favorite ballplayers, you don’t have to be biased to see why his absence from the Hall is not only a personal disrespect to Santo, but a diminishment of the credibility of the Hall itself. Most of the people with genuine knowledge of the game have already lobbied for his inclusion. Many of them have even painstakingly outlined Santo’s career achievements, compared them to existing Hall of Famers, particularly the 13 (that’s right, just 13) third basemen in the Hall. Apparently, the career stats that Ron Santo compiled as a whole make him (statistically) the 7th best overall third baseman in baseball history.

Now, let’s absord that for a moment while I recall an earlier line in this blog. In a game that has been played professionally for nearly 135 years, and been played by tens of thousands of men at the professional level, Ron Santo is, statistically, one of the 10 best at his position in the game’s recorded history. Now, if that doesn’t sound impressive enough for those so called baseball fans that label Santo’s career accomplishments not impressive enough for the Hall, maybe my own comparison might jar some sense into whatever these people use for brains. Since Santo’s detractors are always knocking his offensive career production, let’s compare his production in the 3 main offensive categories to some fellow players that are already in the Hall of Fame:

Santo has 2,254 career base hits. This places him 145th on the all time list, ahead of Hall of Famers Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Bench, Willie McCovey, Mike Schmidt, Willie Stargell, Gary Carter, Harmon Killebrew, Duke Snider, Yogi Berra and Pee Wee Reese.

Santo has 342 career home runs. This places him 81st on the all time list, well ahead of Hall of Famers Kirby Puckett, George Brett, Gary Carter, Rogers Hornsby, Ryne Sandberg, Brooks Robinson, Robin Yount, Roberto Clemente, Hank Greenberg and Joe Morgan.

Santo has 1,331 career RBIs (runs batted in). This places him 84th on the all time list, ahead of Hall of Famers Gary Carter, Carlton Fisk, Roberto Clemente, Paul Molitor, Hank Greenburg, George Sisler, Tony Gwynn, Joe Morgan, Rickey Henderson and Kirby Puckett.

There are actually many more Hall of Famers that Santo’s numbers surpass in addition to the ones mentioned above, but I have chosen these particular players because of the seemingly endless reverence that so many sports writers have for them. Sports writers nearly wet their pants when they speak of Brooks Robinson, Bench and Schmidt. They deify Clemente (rightly, in my opinion), Hornsby and DiMaggio, and they attribute the kind of nearly surreal expertise to Gwynn and Morgan that the lay scientific community attributes to Steven Hawking. 

Santo has outproduced all of these players- particularly Clemente, Morgan, Puckett and Greenburg, whom he outproduced in 2 of the 3 main offensive categrories, and Gary Carter, whom Santo outproduced in all 3 main offensive categories (in fairness to Clemente, his sudden death cut short by at least a few years a career that I believe would have eventually resulted in his far outdistancing Santo in RBIs, but not home runs).

So after digesting the many different analyses of Santo’s production over his relatively short (15 seasons) career, the circumstances under which he played (with diabetes), the records he set for third basemen (27, including the National League home run record for his position until Mike Schmidt passed him), the question is no longer whether or not Santo belongs in baseball’s Hall of Fame. The question isn’t even why Santo has not been given the recognition due him for his career achievements with induction in the Hall. The question becomes…why is induction into baseball’s Hall of Fame left to men that clearly have demonstrated no real respect for the very position of third base, let alone one of its greatest players, and apparently make their decisions based on something other than empirical evidence?

The fact that there are only 13 third basemen (3 of them from the old Negro leagues) in the Hall of Fame is itself a serious disrespect of the very position. I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but in a game that has been played professionally for nearly 135 years, and been played by tens of thousands of men at the professional level, sports writers have seen fit to honor only 13 third basemen with induction into the Hall of Fame? And what about Ken Boyer, that other great third baseman from the 60s that actually did win an MVP award? Where is the respect for his career? 

Apparently, playing third base is not nearly as difficult as being an outfielder. When former Boston Red Sox slugger and outfielder Jim Rice’s induction into the Hall of Fame was being lobbied for- notably, by a number of east coast based sports writers- I saw very little hard statistical evidence being presented on his behalf. What I did read and hear alot of was some of these very same east coast writers waxing nostolgic about Rice’s power, how intimidating he was at the plate and his leadership qualities on the storied Boston Red Sox. Rice only had 382 career home runs (just 40 more than Santo’s 342 career total), he had no gold glove awards for his position (Santo had 5) and 8 all star appearances (Santo had 9). So what really distinguished Rice, the fact that he won an MVP award? That he actually played in the postseason (Santo didn’t)? That he played for more winning teams?

Rice was a big, powerful looking man at the plate. Maybe he captured the imagination of alot of sports writers who like players like that, especially if they’re sporting a uniform with a mythicized – and winning- franchise like Boston. Santo and Jeter? Just regular guys that happen to be among the best ever at what they do, not mighty Casey types. Jeter is still playing, and he is a Yankee, so he has plenty of time to silence his detractors come Hall of Fame voting time for him, and he no doubt will silence them. Santo is not so fortunate. Since his very position has gotten little or no respect throughout the Hall’s history, and he is one of the most famous players for a franchise known for  futility instead of wins or titles, Santo’s chances of entering the Hall of Fame are slim, at best.

As a real fan of the game, and in particular, players that consistently execute their role in the game at the highest level over a long period of time, what saddens me is the realization that being among the best doesn’t guarantee entry into baseball’s Hall of Fame, so truly deserving players will continue to be slighted by people that shouldn’t have the power to decide such things in the first place. And baseball’s Hall of Fame suffers mightily, as it not only doesn’t house all of the true all time greats in its sport, it houses some whose worthiness is questionable. Its very credibility now shadowed by such quesions, the Hall stands, persistently incomplete.

A Sober Viewpoint- Pro Wrestling and Mixed Martial Arts

I have watched, and been a fan of, professional wrestling since I was a child. I always enjoyed the variety of characters that seemed like caricatures in a scripted distillation of everyday life: the buzz cut bully, the nazi, the bleach blonde narcissist, the crazy arab, the suave and acrobatic Englishman- or Frenchman, the fiendish oriental martial artist, the hulking norwegian or polish strongman, the noble indian, the villainous cowboy, etc., etc. It always seemed to me like comic books coming to life, but with slightly more human- and therefore slightly more believable- superhero figures. Every weekend morning, I would glue myself in front of the television to watch the stars of the AWA (the dominant wrestling promotion in the midwest at the time): Dick the Bruiser, The Crusher, Nick Bockwinkle, The Blackjacks, Baron Von Raschke, Bobby Hennan, Dusty Rhodes, Hulk Hogan and (future governor of Minnesota) Jesse “The Body” Ventura. It was, for me, as close to pure fun as I felt television could provide at the time.

However, as a form of sport, pro wrestling always bore the stigma of  phoniness. Non fans would ridicule what they saw as obviously phony fighting, not even believing the blood flow or real life injuries sustained by the wrestlers on a fairly regular basis. As I got older and learned that pro wrestling had, in fact, been staged since the 1940s, I remained fascinated by the very culture of it, the way many people are fascinated with the circus. Pro Wrestling is, in a way, akin to the circus, especially since it no longer pretends to be real, and the many documentaries and programs about this form of entertainment have made it only more interesting to me. But I never stopped feeling strongly that these were very tough, very athletic men and women to do what they do. Not only has that not changed, but I feel that professional wrestlers are probably among the toughest individuals, period. While the matches are staged, the injuries these performers sustain, and the way they go on with the show often while suffering such things as broken bones, torn muscles and genuine gashes has always amazed me. In some ways, staging a fight can be as risky as actually engaging in one.

So it has always puzzled me that detractors of pro wrestling would think wrestlers are not legitimate tough guys or athletes, just because they stage their violence with choreographed moves and pre determined outcomes. After all, many pro wrestlers were collegiate or world class wrestling champions before turning pro- (state and collegiate champion) Jim “Baron Von” Raschke, (collegiate champion) Brock Lesnar,  or (1996 Olympic Gold Medalist) Kurt Angle, to name a few. Suggesting that pro wrestlers are not legitimately tough or athletic just because they stage their contests is almost like saying that martial arts film stars aren’t really martial arts experts because they are acting. How do you think Bruce Lee would have reacted if you said something like that to him?

This negative perception has only intensified with the emergence of MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) as a legitimate sport. MMA stars exude an aura of toughness that make many of them seem invincibile, even though they are often knocking each other out or submitting each other in mere minutes. And because MMA fighters have far fewer restrictions on what they can do than collegiate wrestlers, pro boxers and even kick boxers, they are often presumed to be the toughest men in the world. Their fights are absolutely legitimate, so the injuries they sustain during such fights are obviously real.

Which brings me to the aforementioned Mr. Lesnar. I first heard of 2000 NCAA wrestling champion Lesnar several years ago, when he was introduced to fans of pro wrestling’s WWE- World Wrestling Entertainment as “the next big thing.” Over the next several months, Lesnar was built up into a major WWE star,  ”defeating” some of of the biggest stars in pro wrestling history en route to becoming the youngest WWE heavyweight champion ever to that point. Then Lesnar abruptly left pro wrestling altogether for an ill fated attempt at pro football, before returning to pro wrestling in Japan.

When Lesnar embarked on a MMA career, alot of people, including yours truly, thought he was making a big mistake, and setting himself up for some embarassment. After all, his wrestling achievements, while impressive, were only at the collegiate level, and he had spent the past several years acting out fights, not actually engaging in them (MMA legend Ken Shamrock, by contrast, fought legitimately throughout his career, pausing only briefly to dabble in pro wrestling). How could Lesnar compete with the likes of seasoned mixed martial arts champions like Chuck Liddell, Randy Coutures or Frank Mir? How would his large frame (6’3″ close to 270 lbs) not be a liability for him against smaller, quicker people more skilled in martial arts?

What I, and apparently most of the MMA fan base failed to recognize, was that Lesnar’s pro wrestling tough guy persona may have been acted out, but it was by no means phony. The same drive that helped Lesnar to win the NCAA wrestling championship, helped him become a star in pro wrestling’s WWE, and earned him tryouts with the Minnesota Vikings pro football team has also underscored his meteoric rise to the top of the MMA ranks. After losing to Frank Mir via submission in just his second outing, Lesnar focused training on improving his brazilian jiu jitsu skills, sharpening his wrestling skills and utilizing his superior size, strength and power to overwhelm his opponent.

Lesnar’s focus paid off handsomely only a few fights later when he knocked out living legend Randy Couture out for the MMA heavyweight title. Even though Couture, at age 45, was well past his prime, the victory showed MMA fans that this former professional wrestler was no phony when it came to real fighting, and there would be more to come.

Of course there were still die hard wrestling detractors that cited Couture’s advanced age and diminished skills. Much of those slights were put to rest, however in Lesnar’s latest match a few weeks ago- his rematch against Frank Mir, the man that submitted Lesnar in his second MMA match. Lesnar won that match handily- against a man who is not past his fighting prime- by doing the very things he focused his MMA training on. Lesnar even displayed some of the bad guy gamesmanship that characterized him as a villian during his WWE days, an unfortunate residue from that career.

Lesnar is not the only former pro wrestler to make a splash in the real fighting of MMA. Bobby Lashley, another star from the WWE wrestling promotion, has gone undefeated in his first few matches, including a convincing win over 6’5″ 300 lb. Bob Sapp. Lashley and Lesnar, though still young in MMA, are the biggest news in that sport right now. And both have served notice to the entire MMA world that they are only going to get better. 

And what does this say for pro wrestling? Is it possible that the real toughest men in the world are, in fact, they guys that usually play at it? Pro wrestling as a whole may in fact get a significant boost of credibility as a result of this, a small twist of irony for a form of entertainment that spent so many years yearning for credibility then so many years disregarding it.

I’ve always suspected that many professional wrestling stars would more than hold their own against anyone in a real contest. The quick success of Brock Lesnar and Bobby Lashley not only serves to validate my suspicions, it may even give new weight to the claims of pro wrestlers that have always contended they are the equal of any other athlete. Fans of pro wrestling can enjoy their favorite stars and wrestling programs even more, comfortable in the knowledge that these guys probably really are as tough as they pretend to be. And detractors of pro wrestling have to eat a little crow, and (perhaps begrudgingly) give pro wrestlers the respect that they so casually denied them in the past. If Lesnar and Lashley continue to improve as MMA fighters at the rate they have been, they could end up making the rest of the MMA competition look like the phonies.

The Art and The Passion- Roger Federer

As a staunch lifelong fan of the game of tennis, I’ve had the pleasure to have seen some of the greatest and most memorable athletic performances ever given on a tennis court: Virginia Wade’s Wimbledon victory, Athur Ashe’s victory over Jimmy Connors to become the first male Wimbledon champion of color, the classic Bjorn Borg / John McEnroe match that Borg won for his record fifth straight Wimbledon title, Michael Chang’s improbable French Open championship win, the emergence of the Williams sisters in general (and Serena’s first Grand Slam championship at the U.S. Open in particular), and most of all, Pete Sampras defeating Andre Agassi for his first U.S. Open championship. I remember that one distinctly- a pleasant September summer day that I stayed in so I could watch that match, and the then unknown (to me) Sampras, with my lady friend at the time. I distinctly remember the absolute beat down that Sampras administered to Agassi, who was at the time the game’s marquee mens star. The way Sampras absolutely mopped up the court with Agassi stunned me, and the shots he made while doing it not only stunned the crowd into near silence at that match, it compelled me to turn to my lady friend and say to her, matter of factly: “remember this guy, and remember you heard it from me- we are looking at the greatest player in tennis history.”

When I made that statement to my lady friend (who was herself no great fan of the game), I paused for a moment to consider the gravity of what I had just said- I was dead serious about my statement, I really believed I was seeing the next step in the evolution of the tennis player. What actually surprised me was how correct I was in the decade to follow, how high Sampras ended up raising the level of the game at large. But I also remember thinking to myself in time, “will we see anyone like this anytime in the near future, and if so, who will be the man that eventually surpasses what Sampras has achieved….and when will that man arrive?”

Again, I was, in time, stunned. Not that someone eventually came along to surpass Sampras (such things, are, after all inevitable) , and not even that I didn’t recognize the man when he came along (I didn’t, at all)….but that he came along before Pete was even retired, and himself handed Sampras an epic defeat that I’m sure contributed to Sampras’s decision to retire.

Roger Federer was still only a teenager (19) when he faced Sampras on Centre Court in the round of sixteen at the 2001 Wimbledon championships. Even though Sampras was, by that time, past his prime and limiting his play to the biggest tournaments, he was still the greatest player in the world and could beat anyone at any time. However, he faced, in Federer, an essentially younger version of himself- an opponent with the kind of skill and power that Sampras once had, but with one distinct difference. The young Swiss player displayed a fluidity of movement and economy of energy that I had not seen before- not in Sampras, not in anyone. Agassi had great economy of movement, but no great fluidity to his game. Perrenial clay court champion Gustavo Kuerten had remarkable fluidity to his game, but after three sets, he was usually running on will power. Sampras himself was the epitome of the power game and the pure tennis athlete, and though he had great physical and mental endurance, you could see the effort on his face. He was not the “ice man” player that Bjorn Borg was. 

Federer was very reminiscent of Borg in that respect. One was really hard pressed to tell if, let alone when, he felt pressure or fatigue. And when he defeated Sampras in that five set round of sixteen match, I though to myself that this young Swiss player was going to be someone to reckon with. But I did not think to myself “this is the future greatest player in the game’s history.”

Nine years and 15 grand slam titles later, I am faced with the inescapable conclusion that Roger Federer is the natural and logical “consequence” of Pete Sampras. Most of the aspects of Federer’s game are founded in things that, quite simply, didn’t really exist in the men’s game before Sampras- Pete’s level of power combined with an unusually high rate of accuracy and consistently good movement on all parts of the court. After all, isn’t that accuracy / movement combination just about the only thing that Pete Sampras didn’t have to a great degree? The very thing that so many clay court champions rely on to counter he power game of players like Sampras.

Athletes like Federer (and Sampras, and for that matter, Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Lance Armstrong and other legendary multiple champions) always seem to have one thing in abundance that most other pros don’t have: a seemingly superhuman singleminded focus on winning, not merely excelling. Nearly all of these legendary winners will let nothing stand in their way of winning consistently- Sampras battled cramps and nausea to win one of his U.S. Open championships, Jordan played with the flu to help lead the Chicago Bulls to their last NBA title, Armstrong overcame cancer- CANCER- to win seven- SEVEN- straight Tour de France cycling crowns.

This paranormal focus reminds me of a scene from the movie “City Slickers” in which a bemused Billy Crystal asks cowboy Curly (Jack Palance) his secret to happiness. (Palance) merely holds one finger up and states “one thing,” the simple suggestion that a person can find their highest purpose and truest happiness by focusing on one thing to excel at, one thing to center their life around….a singular purpose.

It is that sense of singular purpose that often prompts us to associate our sports heroes with their sport, no matter what else they may accomplish in life outside of their sport (and also other professionals, like actors- try picturing Leonard Nimoy as anything other than Mr. Spock on Star Trek). It is that very thing that makes it inconceivable for us to see Michael Jordan or Magic Johnson doing anything other than play basketball, though they are both successful businessmen. There are a number of sports legends that have had lengthy successful careers outside of acting- Jim Brown (acting), Dan Marino, Terry Bradshaw and Howie Long (sportscasting), Mike Ditka (restaurants), Gale Sayers (computers). The sole exception to this might be O.J. Simpson, whose murder trial all but ensured that his remarkable athletic career and modestly successful acting career would be lost in its wake.

Roger Federer, however, appears to be a different breed. Not merely an intensely focused individual, but an individual that seems to exist almost singularly to do what he does- play tennis at a level not previously thought possible….by anyone. As with Jordan or Magic Johnson, it seems inconceivable to picture Federer doing anything else, ever. But again, there is a difference with Federer. Magic Johnson contracted AIDS and had to retire while in his basketball prime. Michael Jordan’s father was murdered, and Jordan retired from basketball in his prime to pursue a pro baseball career (though he ultimately returned to basketball to win three more championships). Barring those kinds of trauma’s in Federer’s life, he appears to show no sign of slowing down, even a little, let alone stopping, and at the age of 27, could conceivably win several more tennis grand slam titles before talk of retirement even becomes relevant.

One cannot achieve anything near such success in this, or any other endeavor, without holding an all consuming passion for what they do. To do something so consistently well usually involves a degree of time and preparation that ends up making the endeavor not merely a part of one’s life, but the very essence of it. Seemingly endless hours, days, weeks, months, years in solitude spent fine tuning one’s skills, honing one’s craft, drawing only on the power of the imagination to picture oneself in the very situation being trained for. To take a basic sporting event and make it look literally like a form of art, is something most of us can only dream of…..something most of us will never get any closer to than dreaming of. But nonetheless, something that all of us can draw some measure of motivation from. After all, Federer is a relatively plain looking guy. Other than his performance on the tennis court, nothing about him particularly suggests that he is what he indeed is- he isn’t an unusual physical specimen like Usain Bolt, Randy Johnson or Yao Ming. His demeanor and output doesn’t ebb and flow like Agassi and John McEnroe did. He doesn’t rely on psychological prowess to gain the upper hand on his oppenent the way many of the greatest fighters (Ali, etc.) would. Federer is just an ordinary looking guy that happens to be the very best at what he does, and is so consistent at it that he makes it look easy.

After Federer won Wimbledon for his record 15th slam title, Pete Sampras himself declared Federer “the best to ever play the game.” Coming from the man I myself once said was the best to ever play the game, such a statement borders on gospel for me. In 2001 I didn’t think we would see the likes of Sampras again anytime soon. In 2009, I’m not sure we will see the likes of Federer again anytime…..ever.

Life and Death- Michael Jackson

Typically, when someone extremely famous dies, a few weeks of near hysteria ensues, with memorials ad nauseam, “breaking” news about trivial details surrounding the individuals death, quotes from fellow celebrities, heart wrenching human interest stories from devoted (sometimes obsessed) fans, etc. Now that some of the hysteria surrounding Michael Jackson has leveled off just a little, I want to add what I believe to be my very objective two cents worth.

I first heard about Jackson’s passing last week as it occured from one of Chicago’s top local radio stations, while I was driving north along Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive toward my girlfriend’s place. The radio newscaster announced that Jackson had been taken to the hospital while in cardiac arrest, & punctuated his newscast by stating “this is no joke!” By the time I reached my girlfriend’s place, 15 minutes or so later, Chicago’s ABC affiliate was already confirming Jackson’s death.

My girlfriend immediately excused herself to the bathroom, where she spent the next several minutes crying over Jackson’s death. I was trying to understand why she was so distraught over the death of an entertainer that she not only didn’t know personally, but, given Jackson’s bizarre behavior over the past decade, probably didn’t even know anymore in any real sense. After thinking about it for a little while, & chatting with her about it after she came out of the bathroom, I came to realize that the tears were for the profound way that Jackson’s seemingly innocent & good spirit touched her as a human being, & the way in which she felt she actually could relate to him on a personal level.

Although I was never really a fan of Michael Jackson, I always appreciated the very unique type of star quality he radiated- a quality that I have personally seen in only a handful of celebrities, let alone musicians, in my lifetime. Elvis & Miles Davis did not have it, but John Lennon& Bob Marley did. It is a rare ability to be both omnipresent and approachable- not literally approachable, but approachable in demeanor & in spirit, as if happy to meet people & connect with them (the way Marley, & Lennon in particular, were renown for). Jackson was that type of presence, an individual that made you feel that, but for the small army of security surrounding him, he would happily extend his hand out to shake yours & interact with you, & maybe, just maybe, even be interested in you. I have found that entertainers at that level (& let’s be sure we understand we’re talking genuine cultural icons, folks, not the popular pop star of the day) tend to be, & often have to be, very guarded against their own legions of fans & the many disturbed individuals populating those legions. After all, one of those disturbed individuals, Mark David Chapman, shot John Lennon to death.

Jackson- slight of build, soft of voice & painfully shy in demeanor- did not come across in person as the godlike rock star he was exalted to be. He came across more like a child prodigy constantly seeking t0 capture & share life’s pleasures with anyone that would join him, all the while perplexed at his own popularity, though very aware of it.

There are plenty of gifted entertainers that have such a quality, to be sure, but literally only a handful in our recent history that have ascended to the heights that Jackson had. There were better dancers (Michael wasn’t even considered the best dancer among his own brothers- Marlon was), there were better song writers (Jackson even faced allegations of plagiarism once), there were better singers, but almost no one ever combined their talents to radiate more pure charisma on stage, often with little more than a few select moves & gestures.

There were also certainly less controversial figures- Jackson’s scandals, & the increasingly bizarre behavior & acts that ultimately overshadowed even his Thriller musical triumphs, made people like Madonna look downright conventional by comparison. Was he actually a pedophile? Perhaps- after all, whenever you find smoke, there is usually some kind of fire burning.

Did he really bleach his skin despite claiming that he had a rare skin condition that inflicted his skin pigment with whitish blotches? Let me put it this way- I once knew a woman of color that actually did have the very condition Jackson claimed to have. Not only were her blotches nowhere near as light as the ones Jackson claimed, the cosmetic cover up she chose was of her original skin tone, not the paler one.

Did he really grotesquely alter his entire face with plastic surgery, despite claiming he had only two procedures to fix a broken nose? What do you think?

Clearly Michael Jackson was a pretty disturbed individual for anyone with eyes to see. But he was also a surrealistically brilliant, charismatic performer that always reached for higher plateaus with his craft. As an artist, I can tell you that pushing the envelope of our chosen craft, dancing the fine line between brilliance & madness, & keeping it interesting for people as well as ourselves, is one of the very things that, as artists, we seek to define ourselves by. If the boundaries to which we push ourselves as artists, & the accolades we often hope will result from our efforts, don’t drive us at least a little insane, chances are we probably haven’t done anything particularly special. Clearly, then, Michael Jackson was a special human being.

Will the passing of the King of Pop create the same kind of self perpetuating industry that the passing of the King of Rock did? Probably not- the seemingly eternal & infinite fervor surrounding the very idea of Elvis remains inexplicable, at least to me, anyway. Liken the long term effect of Jackson’s passing more to that of John Lennon’s- they were, after all, both very pro peace & love. There will be worldwide vigils, endless tributes, renewed interest in the Jackson family & possibly even a few stage shows dedicated to the Jackson Five & Michael’s ascent. But most importantly, in my opinion, there will eventually be an end to the kind of tabloid fodder that has continued to dog, & ultimately only served to tarnish, Elvis’s memory & legacy.

That is my hope, in any case. Because someone as dedicated to good will as Jackson obviously was, but as deeply troubled as he clearly had to be, should be allowed to, at long last, rest in peace.

The Art and The Passion

Recently, I found myself reflecting on the state of my life at this stage in my life- what many people refer to as “mid” life. In returning to my original profession as a visual artist, after spending over 20 years in the conventional corporate world of the hotel industry, I found myself faced with a very curious challenge that I did not anticipate having to confront: laziness. Not so much the typical kind that I suspect many people suffer occasionally, the total lack of desire to do something that we know we need to do, but something slightly different. I still have the strong desire to produce art, but I find I have fallen out of love with the actual process of creation.

Let’s call it impatience, something that probably grew out of the deadline oriented, time constrained, results driven executive roles I held in the conventional corporate world. I became much more concerned with the outcome, less & less concerned with the process producing the outcome. Many of the “amateur” artists I know relish that actual process of creation, not unlike the old world craftsmen that actually enjoy constructing a watch or sowing a pair of shoes, & their desire to produce a quality product is no less intense. But how did I come to lose something that I had come to take for granted was simply a part of me? And more troubling, had to reclaim something that seems to be so intangible as to often defy adequate description?

In trying to solve that puzzle, I recalled that as a young artist, I drew heavily on inspiration from the masterful comic artists I often followed, people like Frank Frazetta, Rich Corben, Estaban Moroto, Neal Adams, etc. I would draw from sunrise to sundown on a given day, breaking only to enjoy their work in the comics or magazines of the day.  So surely that must be the answer, right? Just return to the well of inspiration that those & similar artists provided- easy, right?

Apparently, not so easy. As a young man, part of what inspired me about those artists was their excellence at their craft, & my desire to match that level (if not their commercial success). As I got older, & more expert at my own art style, I realized I was indeed reaching & matching their level of expertise at my craft (thought clearly not their commercial success or renown). Comfortable in the belief that I possess an equal skill level as those artist idols of my youth, they no longer inspired my drive to actually produce art, despite the fact that I still enjoy their work & idolize their skill.

But I’m an artist, why should I even need such inspiration? Why is it not enough to simply want to produce art? Was I never self driven? And if I’m not actually self driven, I am any less a true artist regardless of my skills?

I suppose there are alot of you out there that grapple with those, & so many other questions, about your own desire, drive, ambition, dedication, attention, faithfulness, etc. to your craft, as I did for quite some time since moving to return to a life as an artist. What I have found is that, apparently, not all of us (artists) have that innate drive to actually do the work of art, no matter how promising the reward. We are the ones that need an ever present source of inspiration, something that helps drive us when our own personal drive proves insufficient.

Where to find such a reliable source? In my case, I found it in what I confess was a very unexpected place- a younger aspiring artist. I am a member of some of the art groups in www.meetup.com, a useful resource for finding, & networking with, like minded individuals. Last summer, I met a young lady named Marina Rios at a meetup of one of the art groups I’m a member of. Along with the other artists in attendance at the restaurant we met at, we discussed our art, & a multitude of things relevant to it. As pleasant as it was, the gathering itself was nothing out of the ordinary. I did, however, have a chance to get to know Marina better as we were heading in the same direction home on the same train. And while Marina was certainly a very pleasant person to converse with & get to know, what struck me about her was the look in her eye & the tone of her voice as she told me how badly she needs to do art. I was reminded a little of the Gene Kelly number “Gotta Dance” from “Singin in The Rain” as Marina described a drive that seemed to border on addiction.

As we said our goodbyes, exchange web sites / email addresses & promised to stay in touch, I was left greatly envious of the obvious burning desire in her to simply do art, regardless of whether she could do it for a living or merely a hobby. Marina loves the actual act of producing art. I began to see all too well that I had somehow lost that love, & must know labor to rediscover it.

I have no doubt but that I will find that love again- I enjoy the end result & its rewards far too much not to. But I now think back on my conversation with Marina to inspire me during those most inconvenient moments when my laziness threatens to compete with my drive. There are many artists out there like her: their work might never see the cover of a publication, the inside of a gallery or the wall(s) of some wealthy patron. But they offer an even more valuable gift to us all: their sheer love of making art. As an artist, I am the better for having met Marina & knowing that there are many others like her out there to inspire us all.

View Marina’s art work @ www.marinarios.etsy.com

Life and Death #2- Natasha Richardson

During the past few days reading about the tragic skiing accident that ended up taking the life of acclaimed actress Natasha Richardson, I was compelled to reminisce about the bygone eras of cinema, when the most famous actors and actresses represented some kind of higher lifestyle standard for us to aspire to, whether it be fashion, behavior, personal style, eloquence, whatever. Then I lamented how scarce such performers are today, where pretty much anyone can become a celebrity if they’re willing to do attention grabbing things, regardless of whether any talent, class, ethics or intelligence are involved, and how indeed those qualities have seemed to fall into low demand in today’s culture.

That made it all the more saddening to me to learn of Ms. Richardson’s death. As the elder daughter of acting legend Vanessa Redgrave (daughter of Sir Michael) and acclaimed Director/Producer Tony Richardson, Natasha Richardson was as close to acting royalty as Britain could produce- not so much because of her obvious pedigree, but because she exuded the very qualities and talents that made legends of actresses like Bette Davis, Katherine Hepburn, Deborah Kerr, Wendy Hiller, Glenda Jackson and her mother-the kind of poise, class, eloquence, style and (sometimes) subtle strength that she could incorporate into any of her roles to distinguish her from the average film actress. Although she didn’t devote that much of her career to films (most of her critical acclaim was for her stage work), Ms. Richardson was always a refreshing departure from the rather bland, and ultimately short on talent, youthful looks that have populating cinema in recent years. She carried herself with a quiet dignity and class sorely lacking in most film performers today. Ultimately, Ms. Richardson was, like her mother, a true actress. In today’s image hyped culture, that has become distinctive in and of itself. She will be sorely missed.

The Mind of The Astral Artist

After months of gentle prodding from many of my friends & associates that felt I should pour my mind out onto the blogosphere (like, apparently, everyone else) & mulling over what I would have to blog about that anyone should be interested in, I have finally arrived on the blogosphere with what I hope is something relevant enough to contribute to the world wide mental fray: myself.

And why should anyone be interested in anything I have to say? What I hope to do in this blog is express a sober & logical perspective on things that is balanced by passion & tempered by compassion, & do it in an engaging way that will in turn compel you, my reader, to think in ways that perhaps you wouldn’t have considered before. What I intend to do is to comment on a very broad variety of topics, tapping whatever happens to cross my mind at the time, whether it be current events, art, relationships, individuals, etc.

As an artist that is both passionate about the artistic process and the mind that engages it, and a staunch advocate for higher disciplines (i.e. science, etc.),  I will draw on both that & my very diverse background & experience to offer what I feel is wisdom, above all else.

Ultimately, what my blog should end up doing is giving you, my reader, a unique insight into me as a person & what exactly it is that I’m thinking…..in a more interesting way than this first blog of mine is reading, I’m sure. In time, we might even become….friends. But here’s to my contribution to shrinking our world just a little bit more….Stay Engaged, Stay in Touch, & Shine ON

Jamie