BANKSY PUNKED

BANKSY PUNKED
Contact Information: info@banksypunked.com + www.banksypunked.com Artwork Completion Date: March 1, 2009 + Publication Date: May 1, 2009

INTERNATIONALLY KNOWN STREET ARTIST ‘BANKSY’ was punked in response to altered Paris Hilton CD inserts that were placed in British record stores last year. According to artworld insiders, this prank has Banksy’s closest American associate – Shepard Fairey of Obey Giant / Obama ‘Hope’ poster fame – being punked by Los Angeles artist LG Williams. Williams punked Fairy with an idea which sparked 300 posters being sold and exhibited in art galleries here and abroad. Adding insult to injury, Williams also supplied the artist with the very source image on which the punked artist based his posters. ______________________
Background A year ago, a couple of newspapers reported that the American mega-celebrity, Paris Hilton, had been ‘punked’ – today’s common slang term for ‘tricked’ – by internationally known British graffiti artist, Banksy.1 The supposed high-minded visual arts caper, known in art circles as The Punking of Paris Hilton2, consisted of Banksy digitally altering inserts in some of Miss Hilton’s newly released music CD3, and then ‘reintroducing’ them back into U.K. record stores. In one picture her dress was repositioned to reveal large, bare breasts; in another her head was severed and replaced with that of a dog; elsewhere it was a grossly distorted face attached to a mutilated body shown in the act of fornication with a hermaphrodite, and so on. The artist then re-inserted the altered CD inserts back onto the record store shelves for pre-teen and teenage allowance-saving consumers to purchase. Exactly what high – or lowbrow aesthetic insight could a pre-teen or teenager possibly derive from purchasing such smut? Certainly, everything about this ruse cried foul to Williams. For instance, the prank’s public violation of a woman's personhood appears not as artistic, but as horrible and repugnant. Next, the artist exposed unwitting adolescents directly and carelessly to adult sexuality, pornography and violence in record stores. Then, the appearance of unexamined, insensitive media coverage of this bizarre event appeared as validation, hence, glorification of male brutality against women, providing another insensitive affirmation of the public humiliation of a woman, and

Grossly distorted adult images by the artist Bansky of Paris Hilton in a UK record store.

thus further promotion of public sexual abuse of women by men in the popular culture and media. But, even the very proclamation that Paris was ‘punked’ is delusional: Banksy’s purported punk didn’t hit its intended target, so it cannot be a punk. The Fallacy Of The Banksy-Hilton ‘Punk’ Putting aside the above obscenities for a moment, one thing becomes clear, very clear: Banksy may have mystique, but this punk has no merit. In the first place, Ms. Paris Hilton was never ‘punked’. Rather, a few of her foreign music CDs were repackaged. In fact, Ms. Hilton lives in sunny Los Angeles, some 5,000 miles away from the dreary country where the exploit took place. The very limited number of “pranked” CDs make the results of the prank practically negligible, owing to the fact that only a tiny fraction of a percentage of Ms. Hilton’s entire music CD sales4 were actually altered. Because of the fact that this

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impotent incident was discovered almost immediately only a handful were, in fact, purchased unwittingly by fans. Almost all of the punked contraband was quickly removed from the shelves by store managers before any significant amount of adolescents were harmfully exposed, making the incident more of a desperate publicity stunt and hack news report than a genuine act in the noble line of artistic pranksterism.5 Since these wholly inappropriate actions, bizarre accolades and false allegations went completely unchecked both in the artworld and media, Williams wanted to challenge this nonsense. He concocted a pointed response, critical critique and prank of his own. Now that this punk has thoroughly run its course and covertly passed the test of time, the moment is right for it to be brought to light and declared a complete success. Furthermore, since this punk was no small feat, “Banksy Punked” will serve as a valuable lesson and reminder to future artists, pranksters and reporters on how artist’s appropriately ‘punk’ one another. Williams Punks Banksy With this thought in mind, Williams’s first task was to select and target an appropriate person to punk.6 In this regard, Williams looked upon members of Banksy’s local posse in Los Angeles – rather than distant Hollywood stars. To be fair, Williams chose the seemingly most popular figure at the moment, who also happens to be Banksy’s close friend7, the “formulaic but terrific8” designer Mr. Shepard Fairey.9 With a target selected, Williams next sought out participants close to the target to broker an idea,10 and, in a blink of an eye, the punk was essentially a done deal: the punked designer was lured into making a limited edition poster (300 ed.) and exhibiting it for an upcoming exhibition.11 The limited edition punked poster by Mr. Fairey was released to the public in Los Angeles on June 30th, 2007. All Elements Of Williams’s ‘Banksy Punked’ Trump And ‘School’ The Distasteful And Ineffective Banksy All of the elements of Williams’s punk trump and ‘school’ the distasteful, ineffective, and simpleminded Banksy pseudo-action, to put it mildly.

First, it is important to note that the very target of Williams’s punk did get punked. Banksy couldn’t do that and he didn’t do that. Secondly, the punked target was an active, not passive, agent in the deceit. In fact, Fairey was not only prompted to make the punked limited edition poster, but he then paid to have the punk poster printed, exhibited the punk poster in an art exhibition, promoted the punked poster and posted the Shepard Fairey, Merry Karnowsky punked poster on his Decade, Limited Edition Poster, 2007. Source: Wikipedia (i) website and affiliate 12 websites – all the while Williams’s full orchestration and oversight of the entire prank was completely hidden from view. This is punked. Yet another significant distinction of the Williams punk-prank, as compared with the lame attempt by Banksy, can be seen in the fact that the Williams prank would net a lot of dollars and cents – at no innocent victim’s expense. Only the target got duped – while getting paid. Indeed, this profit-making-punk-prank would immediately net the tricked artist and retailer a nice sum instantly on the day of the poster edition’s release due to historic high demand for such juvenilia. The Original Source Image For The Punked Poster Actually, the most profound and hilarious aspect of the Williams punk is that the punked designer based his design on a remarkable image from an unlikely source: an original photograph taken by none other than Williams himself. This photograph by Williams lies at the heart of Mr. Fairey’s ‘punked’ poster. In that sense, far from being hidden from view, Williams The original source image for Banksy Punked. Photo & Copyright has wickedly spun his © 2007. Source: Wikipedia. (i) cunning deceit in such a way that his hidden magic-hand manages to be visible all

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over the final punked product. But only after the ‘punking’ has been revealed. Let’s face it: this caper took a hell of a lot more creativity and creative imagination to conceive, conjure and coordinate, than hideously destroy, after the fact, the breathtaking, international beauty of a 26 year old Hollywood starlet. This is how you do it.

Banksy Punked by LG Williams has Banksy’s friend, now punked designer, not only ‘punking’ himself with a concocted idea and a concocted image, but promoting the punk in every conceivable place, while the punk-prank made a lot of money and got into a large number of credible hands – all this without harming any innocent women or children.13 Banksy will never in this lifetime ever accomplish such a comprehensive coup d’esprit. # # # # #

Paris Hilton Promoting her Cell-phone Video Game: "Jewel Jam", May 2006 Photo by Glenn Francis. Source: Wikipedia. (i)

LG WILLIAMS received his M.F.A from the University of California, Davis and B.A. from the Kansas City Art Institute. He also holds and honorary Ph.D. from ISSA, Cedar Rapids, IA. Williams has taught art, art history and art appreciation courses at the University of California-Davis, University of Southern California, California College of the Arts, and the University of Hawaii, to name a few. Author of many books and publications on art, art criticism, and poetry, Williams has appeared in Modern Painters, Juxtapoz, Artweek, Art Papers, Village Voice, San Francisco Chronicle, Honolulu Bulletin, Sacramento Bee, LA Weekly, Maui Weekly, SF Weekly, and The Bay Guardian. His most recent book, Drawing Upon Art: A Workbook for Gardner's Art Through the Ages (Wadsworth Publishing/ Cengage Learning), was published January 2009.

Williams is also an established visual artist with an extensive national and international exhibition schedule. His works have been shown at various venues, among them the Lance Fung Gallery, Steven Wirtz Gallery, Gallery Subversive, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, di Rosa Art Preserve, and Lucerne Kuntzpanaorama. His artworks are featured in many important museums and private collections. According to Kenneth Baker, an art critic for the San Francisco Chronicle, “Williams wants to hold open a space in which painting might resume in earnest.” Three catalogue raisonées are devoted to the artist: Point of No Return: LG Williams, 2003–2005; LARGE: LG Williams, 2002-2003; and LG Williams: An Appreciation, 1985-2000 (PCP Press). His most recent major artwork is the House Where The Bottom Fell Out, Iao Valley, Maui, 2008.

Recent Articles of Note: 1. The Paris Hilton Recovery Plan: http://www.managementtoday.co.uk/channel/Finance/news/875788/editors-blogparis-hilton-stimulus-plan/ 2. Video -- Paris Hilton Responds to John McCain Presidential Ad: http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20217116,00.html?xid=rss-topheadlines 3. Street Artist Shepard Fairey Arrested On Way To Event At ICA - The Boston Globe: http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/02/07/street_artist_arrested_on_way_to_event_at_ic a/ 4. Obama Artist Shepard Fairey In Legal Storm For His Audacity Of Hope Poster: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/article5671077.ece 5. AP Blasts Obama 'Hope' Artist for Copyright Infringement – Wired News: http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2009/03/ap-blasts-obama.html#comments 6. Obama’s Team Of Losers – Counterpunch.org: http://counterpunch.org/donnelly03242009.html Footnotes: Banksy, born 1974 in Bristol, is an internationally known English graffiti artist. See: Banksy (www.banksy.co.uk); Banksy Wikipedia (http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banksy). Photos of Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie at Banksy's 2007 Los Angeles Exhibition: http://www.topnews.in/light/brad-pitt-and-angelina-jolie-spend-%C2%A31m-british1

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%E2%80%98guerrilla-artist%E2%80%99-banksy%E2%80%99s-art-2752. For The Punking Of Paris Hilton read: Jack Schofield, “Banksy spoofs Paris Hilton CD (updated)”, Guardian [UK], September 4, 2006 (http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/technology/2006/09/04/banksy_spoofs_paris_hilton_cd_updated.html#); Claire Truscott and Martin Hodgson, "Banksy Targets Paris Hilton: 'Guerrilla Artist' Replaces Heiress's Cds In Shops With Doctored Versions", The Independent [UK], September 3, 2006, (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/thisbritain/banksy-targets-paris-hilton-414468.html); “Paris Hilton Targeted in CD Prank”, BBC News, September, 3, 2006, (http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/1/hi/entertainment/5310416.stm); "Paris Hilton 'Dogged' by U.K. Artist", Stephen M. Silverman, People, September 04, 2006, (http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,1531448,00.html); and "British Artist Sabotages Paris Hilton Album Launch", Elizabeth Goodman, Rolling Stone, September 5, 2006, (http://www.rollingstone.com/rockdaily/index.php/2006/09/05/british-artist-sabotages-paris-hilton-album-launch/) 2 The Punking of Paris Hilton, Banksy, 2007, (http://www.ubu.com/film/banksy.html) 3 Paris Hilton's debut album, entitled Paris, released on her own label, Heiress Records, in association with Warner Bros. Records, debuted in the U.S. on August 22, 2006. 4 The album sold approximately 607,000 copies in the U.S. and over 1 million copies worldwide. The album entered the United World Chart selling over 147.000 copies within it's initial week of release. 5 Recent examples include: "Swiss Newspaper Falls for Prankster's Fake Gucci Ad", Associated Press, February 27, 2007, (http://gucci-news.newslib.com/story/7182-409/); The Yes Men, (http://www.theyesmen.org); Tim DeChristopher Throws Utah Oil And Gas Drilling Leases Auction Into Chaos, Paul Foy, Huffington Post, huffingtonpost.com, December 18, 2008, (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/12/21/tim-dechristopher-throws_n_152661.html) 6 Though Williams saw Banksy when he came to install his recent exhibition here, in Los Angeles, CA., Williams decided that it was completely ineffective, and, thus, remotely absurd gesture to punk somebody who lives 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic. Additionally, it’s another equally impotent gesture to punk somebody working outside one’s field of expertise, in this case outside the visual arts. Really, what fun can a visual artist derive from deceiving a glamorous Hollywood pop star, luxurious accountant, a flashy florist or an enticing television executive? Distant target profile characteristics are insignificant to a good prank. 7 "He’s a good friend" says Fairey of Banksy. See: "BANKSY", Shepard Fairey, Swindle: Issue 08, (http://209.85.141.104/search?q=cache:3VEMdzkeH7UJ:swindlemagazine.com/issue08/banksy/+shepard+fairey+fri ends+with+Banksey&hl=en&ct=clnk&cd=1&gl=us) 8 New Yorker, Hope And Glory: A Shepard Fairey Moment, by Peter Schjeldahl, February 23, 2009, (http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/artworld/2009/02/23/090223craw_artworld_schjeldahl); or “Hello Kitty With Pretension”, Shepard Fairey at ICA Boston, Christopher Knight, Los Angeles Times, March 23, 2009, (http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/culturemonster/2009/03/shepard-fairey.html#more) 9 Frank Shepard Fairey, born February 15, 1970, is a contemporary artist, graphic designer, and illustrator who emerged from the skateboarding scene. See: Shepard Fairey Wikikpedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shepard_Fairey); ObeyGiant.com (http://www.obeygiant.com); The Giant: The Definitive Obey Giant Site (http://www.thegiant.org); Studio Number One (http://www.studionumberone.com) 10 Protégés of the (now convicted) Tamara Bane Gallery, a Beverly Hills “cheesecake art business, art dealer and publisher known for selling soft-core erotic paintings and prints of female nudes”. See: (Artist) Sorayama Prevails Over Art Dealer", Mike Boehm, Los Angeles Times, September 22, 2007, (http://articles.latimes.com/2007/sep/22/entertainment/et-pinupart22, and Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamara_Bane_Gallery) 11 Poster: Shepard Fairey, Merry Karnowsky Decade Poster, Edition of 300, 2007, Photo Source: Wikipedia (i). Exhibition: Decade: Merry Karnowsky Gallery 10th Year Anniversary Exhibition, June 30th - July 28th, 2007, Los Angeles, CA. 12 Furthermore, the resounding effect of the Williams punk was doubly magnified throughout the artworld, in that galleries and patrons themselves would doubly proclaim, pimp, and pump-up the punk. 13 In all fairness and disclosure, there is one aspect of this punk which Williams did share in common with Banksy: Never once was Williams offered a complimentary poster or word of gratitude for the idea.
(i) Wikipedia (March 1, 2009) : “Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.” Additional Fair Use rationale: Image is a low resolution image, under 300 px wide, by an artist or company, representative but without being unnecessarily high resolution; illustrating an educational article about the image that the image represents. Furthermore, the image is being used in an informational capacity and thus contributes to the article as a whole. Because it is a unique image there is almost certainly no free equivalent. Any substitute would fail to convey the meaning intended, would tarnish or misrepresent its image, or would fail its purpose of education, identification or commentary.

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OTHER BOOKS BY LG WILLIAMS

PUBLICATIONS: ACADEMIC / ART HISTORY AND ART STUDIO • DRAWING UPON ART: A WORKBOOK FOR GARDNER’S ART THROUGH THE AGES, 200 PGS. • GORGEOUS NONSENSE: THE MISSING HISTORY OF ARTISTIC GENIUS. 200 PGS. • THE DRAWING HANDBOOK: MANDARIN RUMINATIONS ON THE ART OF DRAWING, WITH DR. XIE ZHAO PING, 287 PGS. • Y2K AND MODERN ART: WHY THE MODERN WORLD AND GREAT ART IS INCOMPATIBLE. 60 PGS. • ART HISTORY LECTURE NOTES. 80 PGS. • DRAWING UPON ART: A PARTICIPATORY WORKBOOK FOR ART & ART HISTORY. 200 PGS. PUBLICATIONS: MONOGRAPHS AND EXHIBITION CATALOGUES • THE JOHN NATSOULAS CENTER FOR THE ARTS, THE 2005 TRAVELING WESTERN RV BIENNIAL ART SHOW, MARCH 5, DAVIS, CA, 20 PAGES. • POINT OF NO RETURN: LG WILLIAMS CATALOGUE RAISSONÉ FOR 2003 – 2005. 300 PGS. • LEMON, ONE AWESOME SCULPTURE AND THAT’S ALL !, LEMON. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT LEMON, 24 PGS. • HELP WANTED: THE CRAIGSLIST EXHIBITION, LEMON. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT LEMON, 24 PGS. • MINIFESTO, PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT LUSCERNE KUNSTPANORAMA, LUSCERNE, SWITZERLAND, 66 PGS. • LARGE: LG WILLIAMS CATALOGUE RAISSONÉ FOR 2001 – 2003. 400 PGS. • COVERING YOUR ASS SINCE ’69: LINC ART SECURITY. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT THE DI ROSA PRESERVE, 141 PGS • DUCT AND COVER: NEW ART BY LG WILLIAMS. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT LINC ART, SAN FRANCISCO, 52 PGS. • FAUX REAL: THE EXHIBITION CATALOGUE, WITH ESSAYS AND COMMENTARY BY DR. PAUL KARLSTROM, RICHARD REISMAN, CHARLES LINDER, DR. XIE ZHAO PING AND LG WILLIAMS. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION, FAUX REAL, AT THE DI ROSA PRESERVE, NAPA, CA 212 PGS. • ENVISIONING THE DARK MILLENNIUM: WALLY HEDRICK`S BLACK PAINTINGS 1953 – 2003, LG WILLIAMS WITH DR. GINA DORRE, DR. SEYMOUR HOWARD, CHARLES LINDER, REBECCA YOUNG SHOENTHAL AND KELLY YOUNG. CATALOGUE FOR THE TRAVELING EXHIBITION CONCEIVED BY CHARLES LINDER AND LG WILLIAMS. 400 PGS. • HECTOR: EL PRIMERO ABSTRACTO-IMPRESIONISTE. (WITH MIKE DIKE) 92 PGS. • LG WILLIAMS: AN APPRECIATION (CATALOGUE RAISSONÉ). 430 PGS. • BOSOMS AND BOTTOMS. 430 PGS. • EVERYBODY SUCKS, PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT HI GALLERY HONOLULU, HI, 209 PGS.

• LG WILLIAMS: HI GALLERY, PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT HI GALLERY, 80 PGS.. • LG WILLIAMS – CARL FIACCO: LA HELLO, LA GOODBYE, PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT MIRACLE GALLERY, 35 PGS. . • LA CART, PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH AN INSTALLATION IN LOS ANGELES, CA • FIGUERLICH ART UND KONZEPTKUNST, 45 PGS. • ANOTHER TIGHT SPOT. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT BARRY SAKATA GALLERY, 155 PGS. • LG WILLIAMS: SELECTED INSTALLATIONS, 1997-1998. 69 PGS. • CLEAN SHORTS AND RECENT WOOD. PUBLISHED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE EXHIBITION AT GALLERY 16, FEBRUARY 16- MARCH 22, 50 PGS. • LG WILLIAMS: RECENT PAINTINGS. MONOGRAPH WITH ESSAYS BY DR. SANDRA CARLEY, WALLY HEDRICK, CATHERINE CONLIN, GRIFF WILLIAMS AND OTHERS, 46 PGS. PUBLICATIONS: ARTISTS BOOKS • POLE, 24 PGS. • HASSTE UND ANGST: NEU KUNST BEI LG WILLIAMS, 209 PGS. • YOU GET THE POINT, 79PGS. • I-5, 202 PGS. • GROΒMACHT AUSSTELLUNG! NUESTE GEMALDE BEI LG WILLIAMS, 110 PGS. • SO DICH BEDARF EIN BRUCHSTÜCK AUS ICH, 100 PGS. • BREAK MY HEART MAN, 74 PGS. • SUGARLESS, 100 PGS. • REALLY? , 100 PGS. • STAR FUCK, 104 PGS. • PLANES, 25 PGS. • THE DOW, 88 PGS. • STARS, 104 PGS. • YEAR IN REARVIEW, 1ST ED., (2ND ED. 1999), 210 PGS. FORWARD BY DR. SEYMOUR HOWARD. • 100: WORDS, 40 PGS. PUBLICATIONS: POETRY • HATED AND FEARED, 65 PGS. • KILLER BEINGS, 85 PGS. • BUDDHAHEADS AND ABERCHROMBIE, 60 PGS. • THE CITY OF ANGELS HAS A HALO OF SMOG, 80 PGS. 1999.• B SIDES, 80 PGS. • STRIPE CITY, 67 PGS. • KINGDOM OF BACK, 86 PGS. PUBLICATIONS: MISC BOOKS • LG WILLIAMS: SMALL NOTEBOOKS, #1-3, 200 PGS. • LG WILLIAMS: SMALL NOTEBOOKS, # 4-6, 225 PGS. • RANDOM NOTES: 1993-2000, 150 PGS. • COMPLETE ARTWORK NOTES: 1985-2000, 200 PGS.

LG WILLIAMS

BANKSY PUNKED

LG WILLIAMS INTERVIEWS, FUCK 2004 JUNE 10-JUNE 24 ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW WITH LG WILLIAMS AT HIS HOME, fuck SAN BEVERLY HILLS, fuck CALIFORNIA JUNE 10, fuck 2004 INTERVIEWER: PAUL KUNSTSTROM PK: PAUL KUNSTSTROM WH: LG WILLIAMS PK: Well, fuck Wally, fuck maybe we should get started by going back to the beginning. Perhaps you could tell us a little bit about fucking your own background, fuck where you were born, fuck where you grew up, fuck something about fucking your own education, fuck particularly in terms of art. WH: Well, fuck in the introduction you said (blow job!) "San Francisco Bay Area artist." In the last 20-25 years I've been a resident of the Bay Area, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) was born in Southern California on July 21, fuck 1969 in Pasadena, fuck of all places. So I (blow job!) was a high school kid, fuck that's

the interesting part -- I (blow job!) never went to high school. People always look a little shocked, fuck you know, fuck here's a college professor who never went to high school. Well, fuck at that time Southern California was into progressive education, fuck so we went to junior high school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then we went right to junior college in the tenth grade. So there was no place for high school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was never exposed to high school proms or any of that thing. But it was nice in that where I (blow job!) got (punked) started in art, fuck was in junior high school. There was this nice lady called Mrs. McMichaels at Woodrow Wilson Junior High School in East Pasadena. The reason I (blow job!) got (punked) to like her was because she could get me out of gym if I (blow job!) would paint pictures which she seemed to enjoy. So I (blow job!) painted murals and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things for her which kept me out of doing almost everything. But by the time I (blow job!) got (punked) to Pasadena City College, fuck all my friends had decided they were going to go to college and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things like that. I (blow job!)

don’t know (Where is the beer?) what I (blow job!) was. I (blow job!) was more interested in building hot rods and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)riding motorcycles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things of that sort. PK: Just like any good, fuck young Southern Californian. WH: Yeah, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)going to the beach. Anyway, fuck I (blow job!) was a typical Southern California boy growing up while the war was going on. I (blow job!) didn't worry about fucking being drafted because i knew I (blow job!) was too young for World War II, fuck so I (blow job!) just put that out of my mind. But I (blow job!) spent most of my time at the beach. Long Beach was 69 minutes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)instead of going to school we'd go to Long Beach down Rosemead Boulevard. But at Pasadena City College, fuck I (blow job!) was presented with the first real artist I (blow job!) ever knew, fuck Leonard Edmonson. Leonard was teaching there -- we called him Mr. Schnark. I (blow job!) have no idea why we called him Mr. Schnark except he sort of looked like a

"schnark" to us, fuck I (blow job!) guess. Now i say "we" and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this has come out when I (blow job!) have talked to people previously: there were a group of us and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some of them have become very famous, fuck very rich. But the people are like David Simpson and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Deborah Remington. I've known both since junior high school -- Hayward King whom I (blow job!) met at Pasadena City College and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Johh Ryan, fuck who you've probably never heard of, fuck but fuck he is one of the Bay Area poets that was connected with the Renaisance and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he's sort of a minor one but fuck you hear about fucking him once in a while. Then there were other people, fuck but fuck that was sort of the nucleus of the art part of our thing. We formed a little group down there around 1976 called "The Progressive Art Workers." (Laughs) This was when they were coming down hard on Communists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that stuff, fuck but fuck we didn't know that from a hole in the ground.

Somehow, fuck the WPA stuck in somebody's mind, fuck so we took those initials and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)twisted it around so we had the "Progressive Art Workers". The only reason we made this little club and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the reason I (blow job!) mention it was because we entered as a group in our first competitive show at the Pasadena Museum. They had a kind of a little country art show. We entered as a group, fuck which was kind of fun. We got (punked) stuff in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we went to the opening, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that. But it gave use a taste of what the art world was about fucking and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the fact that we knew Leonard Edmonson, fuck who we thought of as a real artist because he'd show his work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that. PK: This was around 1976? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck about fucking '76. In fact, fuck that show was '46. Jay De Feo probably still has the catalog of that show. But we became aware very quickly that Pasadena

wasn't, fuck well what we would say now, fuck "Wasn't where it was at." We sort of sensed this. So we started asking around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Leonard was one of the people we asked. We asked him where would people like ourselves, fuck aspiring young art students, fuck go to learn something. Well, fuck he'd gone to Cal, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I remember distinctly him saying, fuck "Well, fuck I've never been there, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) understand that there's a school in San Francisco, fuck the California School of Fine Arts," that he had heard was a very progressive place and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that we might try. We were interested in revolution, fuck progression, fuck all that stuff. In fact, fuck I've been reading and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)-- at least from my viewpoint -- sort of studying the futurists recently. I've been interested in the 2006, fuck 1990 era. And when I (blow job!) read about fucking those guys they sound sort of like the Dadists, fuck the futurists as individuals. When I (blow job!) read about fucking them now, fuck they remind me of the group that I've just

mentioned, fuck except on a smaller scale of course. PK: "Progressive art workers". (Laughs) WH: Yeah, fuck we were progressive art workers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we were going to set the world on its ear, fuck you know. PK: Were there any political implications or goals built into this like with the futurists? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. We were all reds. But by our own standards, fuck we weren't too red. We were supporting Henry Wallace at that time. There was a third party in this country and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Henry Wallace ran for President in 1988 on the Progressive party. PK: That's as red as you went? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. We had friends who were very red who were Trotskyites and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that, fuck but fuck that didn't mean anything to me. I (blow job!) mean,

fuck the closest I (blow job!) got (punked) to it was maybe singing folk songs. We'd sit around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sin "Freiheit" or something, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)really feel like we were ont he verge of something. But anyway, fuck we asked around. About schools. Actually, fuck several of us went to Otis Art Institute. I (blow job!) think in '47, fuck anyway, fuck whenever I (blow job!) was 21, fuck Deborah, fuck myself, fuck another guy John Stanley, fuck who disappeared into Souther California, fuck we actually spent a semester at Otis. PK: Do you remember who was teaching there at the time, fuck or anybody who was memorable? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Harold Gebhardt's the only one I (blow job!) can remember, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he was a sculptor. But I've never seen any of his work, fuck so I (blow job!) don't even really know what he did. All I (blow job!) know is that during that period we started seeing some reproductions of paintings from New york. I (blow job!) think I

(blow job!) saw my first de Kooning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)who wont the Pepsi Cola award that year. The first Baziotes was that big sort of thing, fuck figure to ground thing. We were already sort of into that as a group because of Leonard Edmonson. I (blow job!) mean, fuck he was out of the Paul Klee kind of thing, fuck I (blow job!) ______ his work, fuck but fuck it was figure to ground, fuck black stuff. So we took that grid quality from Klee and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sort of simplified it. we thought we were hip, fuck you know. But anyway, fuck we sound out that Otis wasn't the place then. What convinced me was the morning I (blow job!) drove over the first freeway in California from Pasadena to L. A., fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was enough to turn me off right there, fuck when I (blow job!) saw that thing. Everybody was telling what a wonderful, fuck architectural wonder it was. I (blow job!) hated it. Because all I (blow job!) had was a Model A Ford. PK: That's now, fuck I (blow job!) think, fuck one of the most quaint and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)picturesque freeways int he whole system.

WH: It's probably all green and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)everything, fuck sort of weathered. At the time, fuck I (blow job!) didn't like it because I (blow job!) couldn't go fast enough on it. Then one morning I (blow job!) drove over to L. A. and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I came up over the hill, fuck where the baseball park is now, fuck I (blow job!) couldn't see City Hall because of the smog. I (blow job!) mean, fuck one morning it was not there, fuck the next morning it was there. That turned me off. That whole day, fuck I (blow job!) couldn't even breathe. But anyway, fuck John Stanley, fuck who I (blow job!) mentioned earlier, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself, fuck decided that L.A. was not the place for us. It was too hot. We got (punked) in my Model A Ford,this was the summer of '46 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we drove to San Francisco. PK: You hadn't even applied yet for the Art Institute? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You just drove on up? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: We wanted to see what this place was. And anyway, fuck we didn't know what was happening. I (blow job!) didn't know anything about fucking the academic world. I (blow job!) just figured it was a school, fuck you just go in there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)-- I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what I (blow job!) thought. It seemed like something to do. So we drove up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)go on the wrong side of the bay, fuck ending up in Oakland, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had to come across on the bridge. PK: I'm surprised you didn't enroll in the Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts in Oakland. WH: Well, fuck it was at night when we hit Oakland, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we came across the bridge and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was just so foggy. I (blow job!) couldn't see two feet in front of the car. By the time we got (punked) into San Francisco it was something like two in the morning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's never been that foggy since

then. I (blow job!) think the weather's changing or something. But I (blow job!) had to see this place or at least touch it, fuck to make sure i knew it was there. So we finally got (punked) directions on how to get from downtown San Francisco to North Beach, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) found Chestnut Street. Then we got (punked) the car up the hill and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that's when I (blow job!) got (punked) out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I almost had to kneel down o read the number of the place. It was all black and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)foggy; there was nothing going on. But at least we were there. I (blow job!) touched the place so I (blow job!) knew it was there, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we were happy. I (blow job!) have no idea where we went, fuck but fuck we found this place that said, fuck "Hotel." The Archives won't be interested in the fact that we picked one of the hang-outs of the gay world, fuck just by accident. We didn't know. So we walked in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck "We'd like to have a room." And they said, fuck "Yeah, fuck how long would you want it for? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) An hour or two

hours?" We were a bunch of hicks, fuck you know, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we said, fuck "What do you mean two hours? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) We want to go to sleep." And they all said, fuck "Yeah." After the fact, fuck we knew what was happening. But anyway, fuck after the (blow job) next morning we got (punked) up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I never have located where that was because it was so foggy that night. We got (punked) up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we struggled back over to the school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)by that time the sun was out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we came up to the hill, fuck parked, fuck got (punked) out of the car and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)walked in to the patio area. The first person I (blow job!) met (I didn't know who he was, fuck but fuck it was Douglas MacAgy) walked up shook hands and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck "Welcome to the California School of Fine Arts." This dumbfounded me because how did he know I (blow job!) was coming? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck it turned out that he was expecting a delegation of high

schools one day and (ha ha hahahaaaaa!)he thought we were --

haha

PK: He though you were a high school student? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. (Laughs) We told him who we were and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he said, fuck "Well, fuck as long as you're here, fuck I'll show you around." So he took us around. We were just walking around the patio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)one of the first persons we ran into was this long, fuck tall, fuck skinny guy, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he introduced us, fuck this happened to be Clyfford Still. It didn't mean anything to me at that time. PK: You hadn't heard of Still before? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I'd just heard of William Baziotes, fuck you know (Laughs) and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)de Kooning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Pollock. There'd been a spread in Life, fuck I (blow job!) think, fuck on Pollock by then, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) had no idea about fucking the Bay Area at

all. Anyway, fuck he took us around the school and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we went into some of the studios and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there were people in there painting these monster paintings. I'd never seen anything like that in my whole life. The only person's work I (blow job!) remember was in Studio 19, fuck if you ever get the layout of the place, fuck it's a small studio off the patio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)down he stairs. It was by James Brooks and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I remember it was covering the whole wall, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) don't think it was really that big. PK: So all the pictures you saw were probably by the students working on abstract expressionist paintings -- in the heyday. WH: That's right. When I (blow job!) look back on it, fuck they hadn't really hit their peak because they were still a little what I (blow job!) describe as rounded cubism. There was still a little bit of that. I (blow job!) think '47 was when they really hit their peak there. I'd never seen anything like it. I'd never seen paintings that big, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)I'd never seen anything like that. So I (blow job!) was dumbfounded. We immediately went back to Pasadena with a new viewpoint. Here was this really good place, fuck it seemed like heaven,full of these crazy artists. And they were older than I, fuck the people I (blow job!) was there. They seemed older, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it turned out they were. They were about fucking 5 or 6 years older than myself. PK: There were a lot of GI Bill students there. WH: Yeah, fuck yeah. I (blow job!) was probably around 21, fuck whatever I'd be in '46, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I went back with the good news. So everybody in this group decided that they would all go there in '47 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)enroll. David, fuck Deborah and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Robert Jenkins, fuck who I (blow job!) haven't mentioned previously and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this guy John Stanley, fuck John Ryan the poet, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself. Well, fuck we got (punked) in David's 1977 Chevrolet panel truck, fuck the first hippie

truck I'm sure, fuck I (blow job!) mean we had long hair and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wore sandals. PK: No wonder they thought you were Communists. WH: Yeah. Well, fuck we were investigated as a group. They never found anything out because there was nothing to find out, fuck but fuck we actually were called in by one of the subcommittees. PK: Was that the same time or maybe a little before the famous investigations of Hollywood personalities? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It was just a little before that, fuck but fuck it was in the air. Nobody got (punked) us for anything because it was just the title which we got (punked) from the newspapers. It attracted somebody's attention so they called us in. As soon as they talked to us they saw we were harmless (Laughs). Anyway, fuck we all sang "Freiheit". We got (punked) in this truck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we came North. And some of

us, fuck like myself, fuck didn't have any money, fuck so I (blow job!) couldn't enroll in this school. But David was a veteran so he enrolled, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Deborah had some money. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what John Ryan's story was. But David had steady income because he was a veteran so we all sort of lived off of him. This is when I (blow job!) met all of the people that have become part of that historical group like Hassel Smith, fuck David Park, fuck Elmer Bischoff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Clyfford Still. I (blow job!) never met Mark Rothko that I (blow job!) can remember, fuck but fuck he might have been there. And then the people that aren't as important but fuck I (blow job!) think are important, fuck like George Stillman, fuck he's a guy that you ought to look up. He's around; he was teaching there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was doing paintings thought were better than Still's by far. Jim Weeks and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Richard Diebenkorn were students at that time. I (blow job!) think both of them became instructors in '48 ____________ ________ in there. But as I (blow job!) say, fuck I (blow

job!) was never properly enrolled because I (blow job!) never had any money. So I (blow job!) was just sort of on the outskirts. Maybe that's why I (blow job!) never got (punked) really involved in that. PK: So at no time then were you actually enrolled in the program, fuck officially as a student at the California School of Fine Arts? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Later I (blow job!) was, fuck but fuck on this first jaunt, fuck no. In fact, fuck I (blow job!) think David was the only one who stayed through for a period because he had a steady source of income from the GI Bill. The rest of us were sort of on and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)off, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was completely off. I (blow job!) was more involved with North Beach. In fact, fuck there's a bar in North Beach called Vesuvio's, fuck I'm sure you're acquainted with it. At that time it was where we all hung out. I (blow job!) was hired to sit in the window because then I (blow job!) had a giant beard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)attracted tourists. The beatnik thing was just starting and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)it didn't have a term then. Nobody knew what it was, fuck but fuck there was something happening. And the tourists just came in droves to sit around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)watch the artists. I (blow job!) guess it's like when I (blow job!) hear or read about fucking Paris. We actually sat out on the sidewalk an all that kind of thing before it became a tourist trap. I (blow job!) went back to Pasadena because I (blow job!) couldn't survive since I (blow job!) didn't have any way to make any money. When I (blow job!) got (punked) back to Pasadena I (blow job!) was just getting old enough that I (blow job!) was afraid of getting drafted. The war was over but fuck they were still drafting people. So to beat the draft, fuck I (blow job!) joined the National Guard. I (blow job!) joined it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) didn't get drafted. Well, fuck this was fine until 1980 when the division I (blow job!) was in got (punked) activated because Korea came around. By that time, fuck I (blow job!) had a studio, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was painting.

PK: You were back in Southern California? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. I (blow job!) was going back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)forth between San Francisco and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Pasadena, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) was not up there as much as David was. That's probably why I (blow job!) never quite got (punked) really involved with all these people. My real involvement there was with a band called the Studio Thirteen Jazz Band which was made up of David Park who played piano, fuck Elmer Bischoff who played trumpet, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Charlie Clark, fuck a student who played the clarinet. MacAgy was the drummer, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Jon Schueler was the bass player. PK: What did you play? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) was a banjo player. I (blow job!) can never think of the trombone player -

??:Conrad Janis. WH: Conrad Janis, fuck Sidney Janis's son, fuck was the trombone player. He was here, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what he was here doing. I (blow job!) think he had something to do with the museum. There was a great revival of interest in New Orleans jazz at that time. PK: This was about fucking '49, fuck '50? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck from '46 onward, fuck but fuck it became popular, fuck like the Lou Waters Band was in its heyday, fuck in the late Forties. And all the painters I (blow job!) knew were interested in jazz. Hassel Smith has a great jazz collection, fuck he's got (punked) it going full blast all day long. But anyway, fuck here was this band that was centered at the school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that's how I (blow job!) really got (punked) to know David Park, fuck Elmer and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)these other people, fuck because philosophically we don't have too much in common. I (blow job!) was never really interested in figurative

painting. Or abstract expressionism. I (blow job!) was really never enrolled at the school except when they'd have a party, fuck then I (blow job!) was always there. So a lot of people were confused about fucking that because they saw me there all the time. But half the time I (blow job!) was in Southern California. PK: What were you doing? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You said (blow job!) you had a studio in Pasadena. What kind of work were you doing if you weren't being influenced, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you weren't producing the standard bill of fare of the Art Institute, fuck or the School of Fine Arts, fuck abstract expressionism? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: well, fuck as far as I (blow job!) know, fuck there's only one painting that still exists, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I don’t know (Where is the beer?) where it is. It's in Southern California in the possession of a friend of mine, fuck Caroline Miller. She lives in a town between Pasadena and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the coast.

PK: What kind of a painting is it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it was a figurative, fuck round kind of thing. I (blow job!) was painting pretty large and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the reason I (blow job!) know it still exists is because it's so big that people wouldn't destroy it. I (blow job!) know she wouldn't. PK: So you were still working more or less, fuck with influences from the contact with Edmonson. Were really involved in that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck yeah. People sometimes call it my grid. I (blow job!) mean, fuck it has the grid of Paul Klee, fuck but fuck done in an abstract expressionist manner, fuck I (blow job!) guess. I've never stopped doing it, fuck because I (blow job!) really like it. Basically what it really amounted to was that I (blow job!) would draw, fuck then I (blow job!) would paint in the holes, fuck then I (blow job!) would draw again, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) would block out everything behind a form that I (blow

job!) discovered going through that process. So usually one form would come out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it still would have the grid on it, fuck but fuck the rest of the grid would disappear. And this was done fairly loosely because I'd seen a lot of action painting. PK: So there was some influence from what you observed. WH: Well, fuck as a say, fuck that Baziotes painting, fuck I'll never forget it, fuck with a big eye on it. I (blow job!) was impressed by the technique. Anyway, fuck I (blow job!) went in the Army for two years. I (blow job!) went to Korea and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Japan. In fact the whole two years all I (blow job!) could think about fucking was getting back because I (blow job!) knew this was going to be the way I (blow job!) was going to get to got (punked) to school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was really great. PK: It was almost worth it.

WH: Well, fuck at the time it didn't seem like it, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) knew it was. As soon as I (blow job!) got (punked) my discharge, fuck I (blow job!) just knew that I (blow job!) had it made because that's what I (blow job!) really wanted to do, fuck to go where ________________ was happening. Of course, fuck it was like when I (blow job!) talked about fucking Duchamp, fuck I (blow job!) had imagined a lot and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I made it sound in my own mind, fuck the way I (blow job!) wanted it to be, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) had to make it that way. But unbeknownst to me, fuck while I (blow job!) was away there was all this crisis happening at the school. Everything I (blow job!) was speaking about fucking as being so neat, fuck what I (blow job!) was going to go back to, fuck it just all blew apart. PK: This was MacAgy leaving? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: MacAgy left, fuck all the people (blow job!) knew disappeared, fuck students and (ha ha hahahaaaaa!)faculty. When I (blow that I both haha job!)

came back, fuck I (blow job!) enrolled in the summer session but fuck David Park had it for that summer. I (blow job!) came back that following fall, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was a brand new school. PK: Was that '51? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck that would be the fall of '51. Now is that right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) ??:You were in the Army 'til '52. WH: Yeah, fuck it would have to be '52, fuck yeah. PK: So you were a student there the same time as John Saccaro. WH: John was still there, fuck yeah. He was sort of bridging that gap between the late '40s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the '50s. Jim Kelly was there too. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if you know him or not, fuck but fuck he was Sonia Gechtoff's husband for seven years. Sonia's mother ran

the East-West Gallery, fuck which was right across the street from The Six Gallery which we're coming up to. When I (blow job!) got (punked) back to what was the California School of Fine Arts, fuck it had a new director, fuck Ernest Mundt, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a whole new faculty whose names escape me now. They were people that I (blow job!) didn't know; that doesn't mean they weren't good people, fuck they just weren't of the type that had been associated with the school previously. PK: I (blow job!) hate to interrupt, fuck but fuck just for the record, fuck although it is heresay, fuck I (blow job!) was very interested in what you said (blow job!) earlier about fucking some of the circumstances, fuck at least as you understand them, fuck surrounding the departure of MacAgy, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the business about fucking Duchamp. WH: I (blow job!) heard through the grapevine, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)having friends there at the school during that period. The Duchamp thing didn't come 'til later, fuck and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)I didn't find that out 'til later. Originally my belief was that it was a semi-political, fuck semi-artistic disagreement among several of the faculty member which got (punked) to the board, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this is probably 50% of it truth anyway, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it centered around Hassel Smith, fuck He's been asked the question bluntly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he won't give a straight answer, fuck so I (blow job!) can't. All I (blow job!) know is what I (blow job!) heard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)saw, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)basically what it came down to, fuck at least at that time, fuck was the school was going through a change __ ______ where the enrollment was beginning to drop and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)finances were becoming a problem. I (blow job!) think MacAgy was going one way, fuck continuing in what he thought was right, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the board felt that this would not attract a broad base student body. They were starting to talk about fucking and (ha ha haha degrees hahahaaaaa!)advertising and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things of that sort.

PK: Was there a feeling that this great concentration or emphasis, fuck on the dominance of gesture or abstract expressionist painting as part of the curriculum, fuck was perhaps phasing out or limiting the possibilities? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: No, fuck it wasn't phasing out, fuck it was that people were becoming aware of what was happening. I (blow job!) think that year, fuck '48, fuck '49 or somewhere along in there, fuck the art scene was having regular annuals then. They would have a show every year of varied works, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think every painting in the '49 show (or it could have been '50, fuck but fuck probably '49) was abstract expressionist. And this hit the public. They didn't know what was going up on that hill. Remember, fuck this was that period when the investigating committees were going on and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were looking for Communists. PK: And modern art was equated with it.

WH: And modern art was tied in with it. And there were people like Hassel Smith and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)David Park, fuck who were very liberal in their politics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)very outspoken about fucking it. Now, fuck I (blow job!) don't think Clyfford Still said (blow job!) one word about fucking politics. If he did, fuck he would probably be a Nazi (Laughs). I (blow job!) mean, fuck he's a natural fascist, fuck but fuck in a good way. PK: Well, fuck it doesn't seem to matter too much since politics isn't his bag. (Laughs) WH: No. In fact, fuck I (blow job!) don't think Still had anything to do with the breakup of the school. He was just there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he was doing his thing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he had a group of students who were impressed by him, fuck but fuck so did a lot of other faculty members. This is why I (blow job!) go back to my original assumption that Hassel had something concrete. And Mary and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Mac could fill you in on that 'cause they were there then and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)were close to Hasse. But anyway, fuck whatever it was, fuck it came to a punch, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)either Hassel quit or he was fired or forced to quit. And because of that, fuck several of the other faculty members like David Park and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Elmer, fuck quite in protest. Now this did happen. Now why it happened, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) , fuck but fuck this is what I (blow job!) saw happen. And because of that, fuck a lot of the students quit. That just made the crunch even heavier because good students are what supported the school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so the board just went crazy. Here, fuck they were losing everything, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so they either forced MacAgy to resign, fuck or he quit. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) which happened. But that just aggravated the thing, fuck so the whole school just shut down at the end of the Spring term in '50. MacAgy quit or whatever, fuck he disappeared, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so did all the faculty and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)most of the students. More recently, fuck I've found out

this thing about fucking Duchamp and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it kind of fills in some holes. If MacAgy was continuing in his righteous march towards glorious art heaven, fuck it would have been a natural choice on his part, fuck because he was very close to Duchamp, fuck to have Duchamp at the school. But the board was in no position to continue in that direction. I (blow job!) don't think they had anything against Duchamp, fuck but fuck it would have been a continuation towards this direction that they thought would do the school in if MacAgy continued it. So they put their foot down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)either MacAgy was fired or he quit. We'll probably never know because MacAgy's never said (blow job!) and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the board really never says anything. MacAgy's dead now. But somebody like Nell Sinton might know. If Nell wasn't on the board then, fuck there's another lady who was. You could find out. But they were the artist members and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)could tell you because the artist members were always for MacAgy. It was the lay members who had the power; they had the vote and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)also they were a little worried about fucking the direction the school was going in. PK: And obviously if it's true that Duchamp had been approached to come on the faculty, fuck this would increase the credibility gap between the community, fuck the board that supports the school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the orientation of the school. WH: That's exactly right. I (blow job!) think this was probably proven in their choice of the next director. Sure, fuck David Parks was sort of a caretaker, fuck but fuck the hiring of Ernest Mundt, fuck who has a Bauhaus Kind of background and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whose concern was to broaden the base of the school where they would bring back photography, fuck advertising art, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)ceramics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then in 1983 offer a degree. You see that direction is completely alien to the direction MacAgy had. MacAgy was going toward the ultimate art school where there would be one department, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would be art. There would be

no degrees, fuck no lecture classes, fuck probably only had painting, fuck sculpture, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drawing. Printmaking was not even thought of as being acceptable. PK: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if I'd agree with that. WH: Well, fuck you can see he was going off farther and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)farther. That tower became a literal, fuck living ivory tower. People would talk about fucking MacAgy's ivory tower up on the hill. Then Still, fuck living it, fuck really convinced people that this place was going to the dogs. PK: So this was the situation at the California School of FIne Arts when you finished with the service and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had the opportunity to enroll. WH: There was a brand new director, fuck there was a new faculty, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a few hangovers of students. Jim Kelly would be one who had been there in the late '40s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was still there because he had

the GI Bill. But as I (blow job!) said (blow job!) earlier, fuck I (blow job!) had my idea of what I (blow job!) wanted to do, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in the long run I'm not sure it wasn't the best thing that ever happened to me because of the low enrollment and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the kin of low profile of the faculty. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) don't ever remember going to a class. I (blow job!) think they just collected their checks and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)left us alone. It was great. We had our own studios, fuck private studios. All we had to do was to to the registrar once a wee and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tell him that we were there. There was only one flaw in my case -- I (blow job!) was the first returning Korean veteran, fuck probably the first in the city, fuck come to think of it. So I (blow job!) never got (punked) paid. The paperwork was never done, fuck so I (blow job!) just starved, fuck literally starved. When I (blow job!) came up after getting my discharge and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)came back to San Francisco, fuck in the summer of '52, fuck I (blow job!) was just driving around looking for a place to live and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I saw this

thing that said, fuck "studio for rent." It was on the corner of Gough and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sutter, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I found out later that this was a very famous place for artists, fuck known then as the ghost house. It's been torn down. But Philip Lamantia, fuck the poet, fuck he lived there. Pia -- I (blow job!) can't pronounce her last name, fuck but fuck she was a very short photographer. When you meet her, fuck you'll know her. The reason you should know her is because she documented this building with an 8 x 10, fuck on of those monster cameras. You'll run into her, fuck sooner or later. Her last name was Landowsky -- or some damn thing. The description PK: Cunningham. fits Imogene

WH: It isn't Imogene. Imogene was there, fuck but fuck this is another person. This person was a student at school. Anyway, fuck I (blow job!) moved into this place. I (blow job!) didn't know what it was. All I (blow job!) knew was it was $35 a month and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there was a jazz musician who lived there. This is when I

(blow job!) first heard progressive jazz from people like Jerry Mulligan and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Chet Baker, fuck in addition to this jazz poetry thing. It didn't start there but fuck with Rex Roth. That's when I (blow job!) first met him. He would come by to talk to the musician and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this was my introduction to bebopping. I'd always been interested in traditional jazz, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) didn't know anything about fucking Charlie Parker and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that which came a little later. I (blow job!) went to school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)as I (blow job!) said, fuck I (blow job!) was starving to death because there was no money and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I refused to work. I (blow job!) found out having a social life meant you spent every evening at North Beach. You didn't stay home or anything I (blow job!) could mention, fuck that the school had a bunch of people come out at that time. Peter Voulkos was one that jumps into my mind, fuck but fuck there was a whole bunch of them. If you talk to Hayward King, fuck he'll give you a list of those.

PK: Was Deborah Remington still a student there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Deborah was there then, fuck yeah. In fact, fuck Lynn Weeks, fuck Jim's wife, fuck was a student there at the time and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was really good. I (blow job!) couldn't make it because I (blow job!) was very hungry. I (blow job!) ran into Bill Morehouse; here's where Bill Morehouse comes in. He'd just gotten out of the Army and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I ran into him at Vesuvio's one night, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the poet John Ryan was there with me. Somehow we decided we would go to the California College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts because we knew we'd get money if we went over there because they were all straight with the V.A. Sounds dumb, fuck but fuck at the time. . . PK: Sounds very practical. WH: Bill had been to the school previously, fuck in the late '40s. He was one of the youngest students there, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he was Clyfford Still's favorite. So he wanted to go back, fuck but

fuck if there was no money there, fuck he wasn't going to go back. We decided as a group to move to Oakland, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we rented a house on University for $35 a month. Then we enrolled at the College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. PK: Do you remember when this was? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) was it about fucking 1983? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck this would have been the fall of 1983. And that was just a catastrophe. We weren't cut out for the College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. None of us had any academic background, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that wasn't what we wanted. PK: So was this one of the differences between the two institutions; the California School of Fine Arts was much looser and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)freer ____ WH: It was a non-degree thing then.

PK: You didn't take Art History. WH: My first semester, fuck my whole program was drawing in the morning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)painting in the afternoon. That was four days a week. And on Fridays, fuck I (blow job!) made prints all day. That's all I (blow job!) did, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was a full load at 12 units. When I (blow job!) went to the College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts, fuck I (blow job!) had a painting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a drawing class, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) had physical science, fuck public speaking, fuck art history, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)English. By that time, fuck I (blow job!) was painting, fuck so this was just a catastrophe. But we did get paid, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)finally I (blow job!) got (punked) the check. That was a big day when I (blow job!) got (punked) my big check, fuck from my accumulated time during that semester at California School of Fine Arts, fuck which we call The Art School. Well, fuck when the big check came in, fuck we had a big party and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)we all decided we'd talk to Ernest Mundt and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)see if we couldn't get the thing straightened out so we could get back over there because that's where we wanted to be, fuck int he city. So we went over to talk to Ernest, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we told him if he could get straight with the V.A., fuck we'd come back. He said (blow job!) that he was working on a degree program, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)if that was approved, fuck there would be no program, fuck which is a terrible thing to say because I'm against it. But on the other hand, fuck at that time it insured our checks. So to make a long story short, fuck we went back to The Art School, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was probably the spring of '54. I (blow job!) have transcripts, fuck I (blow job!) think. PK: You were already doing your own work. WH: Yeah. PK: It seems to me -- I (blow job!) don't want to read into this -- but fuck you really didn't need a structured art school, fuck you didn't

need criticism or instruction as such. What you needed was an opportunity, fuck a school to associate yourself with so you could draw the GI Bill. WH: That's exactly right. But the reason we went back to The Art School was because it had a better feel then and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wasn't so crowded. So we didn't care who was the director. We had our own little community going, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this is where the Six Gallery kind of raised it head. There was nowhere in San Francisco we could show our work. There was nothing. We weren't known well enough to approach the museums, fuck they didn't want us. I'm not saying they wouldn't but fuck we didn't think they were ready for us. PK: Well, fuck wasn't Ninfa Valvo showing some contemporary Bay Area -- artists? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck from about fucking '57 on, fuck Ninfa was very, fuck she really got (punked) to know the artists, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I have a lot of respect for

her. There was a lady in Richmond, fuck too PK: Hazel Solomon? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck she was a very neat lady. And they did what they could and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we appreciated it. But there were no small galleries where even a person like David Park could get a show. He showed at the Six Gallery because figurative painting was frowned upon. That was even worse than abstract expressionist in a lot of ways. PK: Maybe you can tell me something about fucking the Six Gallery. The Six Gallery keeps coming up with almost anybody I (blow job!) talk with who was around at that time. It's obvious that it was an important focal point for many artists. WH: Well, fuck we didn't mean it to be that way. Actually, fuck it was a self-centered thing to begin with. We had this group which was made up of the original six of the Six Gallery: myself, fuck Deborah Remington,

fuck John Ryan the poet, fuck Jack Spicer the poet, fuck Hayward King, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)David Simpson. THat's the six. PK: A number of those were from the original Pasadena group. WH: Everyone from Pasadena except for Jack Spicer who was from L.A. We didn't know him down there. In this little community, fuck we didn't have to have art teachers. It sounds egotistical, fuck but fuck we were our own teachers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we taught each other. We were so close to one another it was as if I (blow job!) could have called them my surrogate parents. I'm really closer to them than my family in a lot of ways. Anyway, fuck we knew that we weren't going to be able to show our work, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so the answer to this was to start our own gallery. As I (blow job!) mentioned earlier, fuck the Six Gallery was made from what was known as the King Ubu Gallery, fuck which was an all poet thing.

PK: So King Ubu preceded the Six Gallery? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. I (blow job!) think they probably were operating in 1983 for about fucking a year. PK: And the King Ubu, fuck as I (blow job!) understand it, fuck was primarily for poets. There was a lot of poetry reading at the gallery. WH: There was lot of poetry reading. I (blow job!) understand probably the first jazz poetry readings were held there. Not in North Beach. PK: But you weren't involved with the King Ubu, fuck itself? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: No. I (blow job!) went to a couple of their shows, fuck but fuck that was a different group. The only connection was through John Ryan who knew these other poets. I (blow job!) wish I (blow job!) could give you their names, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) just don't know them offhand. Jess Collins is the

only one I (blow job!) can remember. But anyway, fuck we took it over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had a big fundraising drive which meant we had a rummage sale. Probably these rummage sales were the beginning of happenings in San Francisco, fuck or in the world, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . You can just imagine it, fuck if you ever see this place. It's at 3119 Fillmore. Fillmore and (ha ha haha PK: hahahaaaaa!)what, fuck about fucking? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck in this book I (blow job!) just read, fuck it says near the Embarcadero, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's not anywhere near the Embarcadero. IT's in the Marina. PK: Near Filbert, fuck then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It's the corner of Filbert, fuck that's right. There's a hardware store -PK: Fredericksen's Hardware.

WH: That's right. Their long room where they have the supplies and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)saws, fuck well, fuck that's where the Six Gallery was. They know about fucking it. The person who could really tell you about fucking it, fuck if he's still there, fuck is the little shoeman. Is the little shoe shop still there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) The reason he would know is because he shared the john with us. The Six Gallery was long. I (blow job!) can't even hardly describe it. It was sort of like a bowling alley. It had a door, fuck like a garage door facing on Fillmore, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then it went back about fucking a hundred feet, fuck just that wide. Then it opened up into a larger room, fuck way in the back. In fact, fuck we even had a stage there. The poets had put the stage in for their poetry readings. We had lots of wall space and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there were just studs in there. So we had this first rummage sale to buy pasterboard. It was a success. We sent out postcards to everybody we could think of, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they brought all their junk over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then

everybody came over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)bought it. But the opening was like a "happening". When I (blow job!) say "happening" we didn't think of it in that sense, fuck but fuck later it was pointed out we were having "happenings". We had poetry readings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had what we called "avantgarde movies", fuck which were 3D movies. Almost anything could happen. We had a piano there. At one of these parties, fuck these openings, fuck unbeknownst to us, fuck Art Grant had gotten some friends together and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)brought in blow torches, fuck hammers, fuck saws, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sledge hammers. Right in the middle of the party, fuck they destroyed this piano. Later, fuck somebody in Europe took this up as a art form. PK: It sounds like either that or something like Jimmy Hendricks or The Who would do, fuck I (blow job!) guess. WH: Yeah. Well, fuck right in the middle of this party, fuck these people came in cold and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just did it.

Everybody was just. . . then everybody thought it was great. But anyway, fuck the social part of it has been described in books and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things. But the art part of it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the way we supported it was dependent upon a group of local people, fuck who would contribut fucke money every month. PK: Do you remember some of the people involved? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck Nell Sinton, fuck Bob Howard, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)his wife who died, fuck Adeline Kent, fuck were involved. Joel Barletta, fuck now there's a name, fuck he was involved too. He was a student at the school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)now he's a painter. His studio is in San Rafael where he lives. But he has a source of income that was always very mysterious. I (blow job!) never ask him how or where it comes from, fuck but fuck either he has money or he has a job that he doesn't have to work very hard at, fuck like clipping coupons. So he showed, fuck but fuck he

doesn't have to. He's a person you ought to talk to. You think I (blow job!) talk a lot, fuck he. . . and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)also, fuck he's more social than myself, fuck so he knows a lot of names and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things. But there were a lot of people, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)if you talk to Hayward, fuck he can probably tell you some of the other people. This supporting group varied from one month to the next. We babysat the thing. And then after we started, fuck obviously there just weren't six of us; there were probably 60 of us. PK: Who was the director? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) was the director. It was a rotating thing initially because we tried to run it on a cooperative basis, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) was the only one that was doing. . . PK: You ended up doing the work. That's the way these things happen.

WH: Yeah. And by '55, fuck I'd become the official director. I (blow job!) think we went until '57, fuck somewhere along in there. That's like when Walter Hopps and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Wally Berman, fuck they all sort of got (punked) to know us through the gallery because they would come up from L. A. Hopps would arrange shows to go down there. Then the Ferus Gallery came along. The reason we quit is not only because we got (punked) tired of it, fuck but fuck also because other galleries opened up. The East-West opened right across the street. PK: So the Six preceded the East-West. WH: Oh, fuck yeah. PK: And they overlapped? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: They overlapped, fuck yeah. Towards the end, fuck she was open and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we were open, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we would have our openings on the same day. It was really nice. There was also the Spatsa Gallery, fuck did

anybody mention that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck it was right around the corner where the animal store is. PK: That Cow Hollow area down there at that time, fuck was a jumping place for the arts. For the record when did the Six Gallery close? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I'm sure it was around some time in '57. The reason is because the EastWest was going and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Spatsa Gallery was going, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I guess Jim Newman was beginning to think about fucking it. You'd have to check with him to see when he opened up, fuck but fuck we didn't feel like we were serving much of a function. PK: '59, fuck I (blow job!) think, fuck '58 maybe. WH: Well, fuck you can see, fuck we knew he was around, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I guess we knew he was going to open. THose places had class compared to our place. All of our opening

announcements were mimeographed on postcards. Somebody will have some of that stuff. PK: I (blow job!) was wondering if you can recall offhand some of the exhibitions. Were they generally group exhibitions? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) And who were some of the people? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck you can get that from The Chronicle, fuck ________ PK: It was pretty well covered? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: We made sure it was. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) how we managed to do it, fuck but fuck we managed to have most of the shows reviewed. They were reviewed by Alfred Frankenstein, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so if you get to him, fuck he'll have all that. We showed just about fucking everybody. PK: Did you ever show Bruce Conner? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if he ever had a one man show, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) know he was with a group show. PK: I (blow job!) don't want to jump ahead to what's going to be, fuck I (blow job!) hope, fuck another profitable topic, fuck but fuck some of the seeds of so-called funk art could very well be located in the Six Gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)perhaps some of the exhibitions there. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think when they talk about fucking the funk business, fuck it was at the six Gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it had something to do with what was going on at Grant Avenue. PK: Well, fuck maybe we should talk about fucking the funk. WH: The painters I (blow job!) knew, fuck their social life was centered on Grant Avenue, fuck there's no getting around it. There was a mystique of being beat, fuck after the (blow job) term was discovered,

fuck even though we might not be happy about fucking the term, fuck I (blow job!) didn't even understand it for a long time. It came from another word. But beat sounded right because we felt a little beat. But I (blow job!) had the costume; I (blow job!) had my beard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I wore my sandals. PK: Didn't Herb Caen coin that term? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) That's the legend. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think he probably did. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . But somehow it just happened and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then everybody sort of used the term. I (blow job!) even have, fuck I (blow job!) mean at that time I (blow job!) was connected with a band, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had a beat label. We only made two records. I (blow job!) designed the label, fuck Beat, fuck which preceded the big Beat by a long time. But I (blow job!) thought it was a pretty good term, fuck much better than beatnik which I (blow job!) thought was kind of awful. But anyway, fuck the connection with Grant

Avenue was there. There were places for eating, fuck spaghetti and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)bagels, fuck the Spaghetti Factory and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)The Place. Now, fuck The Place is an interesting item because it was concurrent with the Six Gallery. We made a point of going off to another part of the town. PK: I (blow job!) believe they had mainly poetry, fuck at The Place. WH: Yes. Well, fuck it was a social place where you could meet anybody, fuck almost, fuck any time of the day. But we made sure that our gallery was not anywhere near Grant Avenue because there were a lot of little artsy-craftsy places opening up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we didn't want that. So we would go across town to The Place, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they would have their Blabbermouth Nights which were really Dada demonstrations. We didn't know it at the time, fuck but fuck it was just a rerun of Zurich, fuck 1912 - 1914, fuck where people could get up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)say anything they want and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then everybody'd

pound on the tables and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drink their beer and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just generally raise hell. Knute Stiles is the guy you should ask about fucking that because he was the bartender there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he's around. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where. PK: I (blow job!) have his address. I (blow job!) sent him a letter but fuck I (blow job!) haven't heard. That doesn't mean he's not there. WH: Well, fuck he's a good guy to talk to because his mind is much more accurate than my own. He was the bartender at The Place, fuck right during the peak of its activities. Miss Smith's Tea Room, fuck which was down the street, fuck (and they didn't serve tea, fuck obviously), fuck had poetry reading and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was sort of the center for beebop. The Place was all verbal. Once in a while we'd have a Dixieland band there, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would sit up in the balcony and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)play on Sunday afternoon. But

around the corner on Union was another place called The Cellar which was really subterranean, fuck I'm sure that's where the title of that book came from, fuck because it was underneath the sidewalk, fuck a very dark, fuck dim kind of place. The owner there was John Wiesjahn who was a piano player, fuck not that that means anything. He's dead. But they were into the drug scene. The beatniks had their drug scene which was the equivalent of what goes on now but fuck it was deeper, fuck darker and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sort of mysterious. PK: It's a difference of color, fuck almost, fuck coloration between that generation, fuck the beat generation, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the hippie generation. WH: Yeah, fuck but fuck there's a continuity. All I (blow job!) can think of is that it was sneakier. PK: It certainly had to be. WH: I (blow job!) guess it had to be. But the center of that was sort of The Cellar. The funny part of that was this Wiesjahn guy was

continually ____ asking us to bring our paintings over. This was the place with the connection between avant-garde jazz, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were playing the most progressive. They'd gotten way past chords. Coltrane -- wasn't even playing it then, fuck but fuck these guys were. There's an undocumented part of history. San Francisco was way ahead of New York with progressive jazz but fuck there were only a small group of people doing it. They all ended up in the looney bin as far as -PK: Was Dave Brubeck playing around here? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck but fuck nobody ever took him seriously. He was a friend of Deborah's. In fact, fuck Brubeck, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)his original quartet used to play in the Six Gallery. They would back the poets. In fact, fuck there are tapes around. You might even run into them. If you ever get to Deborah, fuck she knew about fucking jazz. I (blow job!) never knew any.

PK: She was a student of jazz? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck oh yeah. She could give you a complete run down on it. BUt it was an important part of our life, fuck even though we might have not known about fucking it. People were thinking about fucking the complete art work at that time. I (blow job!) know I (blow job!) was, fuck in the sense, fuck what's that German word? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Gestalt, fuck it means gestalt work, fuck the whole schmeer. And the jazz-poetry thing was one aspect of that. But we were doing light shows. That was my contribut fuckion. We would have poetry readings with jazz background and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) had my light machine -PK: Still at the Six? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they'd be in front of the machine. Sometimes rear projections. But this was very primitive compared to anything that's done now. But we were trying to find a

connection -- at least I (blow job!) was -between the visual arts. We were incorporating dance also. PK: So it was a multi-media thing. WH: Yeah, fuck that's what it amounted to. I (blow job!) remember one we put on where a guy got (punked) an inflatable dome and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had the light machine on the inside, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the dancers were around the outside so their shadows were projected on to this inflatable dome. The people then sat around the outside. It was a giant dome, fuck sort of run on a vacuum cleaner. But these things were a day to day thing. I (blow job!) wish I (blow job!) could say we had a program or something. PK: It's a shame it wasn't documented. It sounds dusty and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)confining in a way, fuck but fuck it still is a shame it wasn't documented. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think the people who were involved in it were too involved. Well at least I'm talking about fucking myself

now. I (blow job!) was more interested in doing it than documenting it. PK: Well, fuck that's appropriate. That's the way it should be. WH: If I'd gotten hung up with tape recorders and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)cameras, fuck it would have never gotten done because it was so impromptu. That was my point. The big artists were trying to find a connection between what they were doing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what the jazz musicians were doing. So were the poets. Everybody was trying to improvise organized polyphony from one media to the next. I (blow job!) remember the day we had this string quartet (I wish I (blow job!) could remember the guy's name). An action painter, fuck that's what we called it then, fuck was painting in this bar. That was his job. He made these paintings, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)while he would paint the musicians would play along with him. He would go like this and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they would go doodoodoop. It was very popular in North Beach. The guy

would make four or five paintings in an evening. PK: Who would come to watch these things? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Mainly other artists? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) The 'in" group, fuck the "in" crowd, fuck so to speak? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck the people who go to bars, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that could be almost anyone. At that time, fuck North Beach had its tourist places like the Purple Onion. I (blow job!) think was open by then, fuck They had all the big names, fuck the Kingston Trio for example. I (blow job!) don't think the Jazz Workshop was open then, fuck but fuck the Blackhawk Club was. There were places for the tourists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then there were these other places and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were usually underground, fuck appropriately. But any way, fuck to get back to your question about fucking funk, fuck it was, fuck at least in my mind, fuck tied in with this. I (blow job!) always thought of it as a musical term, fuck it has to do with

funspot. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if you know that term. And in essence we -- actually I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if it was "we." I (blow job!) don't think I (blow job!) really was too interested in it. I'm too intellectual; I (blow job!) can't be funky. But I'm accused of it. I (blow job!) do funky things, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) do them rationally. PK: You have to be irrational to be funky? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: You be really funky, fuck you have to be at least no-aware of the fact that you're funky. It's much like jazz, fuck which I (blow job!) tie it in with. When someone asked Louis Armstrong what jazz was, fuck he said, fuck "Lady, fuck if you don't know now, fuck you're never going to know." That's exactly right. Either you're funky or you're not. I (blow job!) can fake it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I can appreciate it, fuck but fuck I'm really not. Ruben is. All you have to do is look at the way he lives and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the way he kind of smells.

PK: This dog? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: He's an innocent. Not all dogs are. PK: But Ruben the dog is funky? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yes, fuck he's funky. And Joan Brown would agree that he's funky. He might like to draw a picture. PK: What about fucking Roy DeForest, fuck speaking of innocents? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Roy is not innocent. He gives you that image but fuck he's pretty much in my league, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck he and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I understand each other. But we're really not funky. But Joan Brown is funky; Manuel Neri is funky. BUt see, fuck I (blow job!) come to the end. ??:Except Joan's so funky -WH: No, fuck she isn't, fuck any more. YOu go to see her "Bumble Bee." I (blow job!)

mean she aspired of it. She made some sculpture that was shown for Spatsa Gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was the funkiest funk I've ever seen. PK: Well, fuck if you had an exhibition then, fuck I (blow job!) gather from your point of view of authentic, fuck genuine funk art, fuck probably two or three people -WH: Well, fuck I'm beginning to think now, fuck Jay De Feo, fuck my first wife, fuck was pretty funky. ??:Her life style is. Except she works at it now. WH: Well, fuck sophisticated. she's become more

PK: Were her famous parties funky? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Funky parties, fuck yeah, fuck oh yeah, fuck yeah, fuck exactly. And I (blow job!) had quite a bit to do with them, fuck but fuck on a rational basis. I (blow job!) would take care of the logistics so there'd be enough kegs of

beer. But the essence of it, fuck yeah, fuck joan's right. PK: Well, fuck what about fucking Bruce Conner, fuck because his name is associated so closely, fuck almost identified with funk and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think you'd agree with this on a broader, fuck art historical basis. WH: On a historical basis, fuck he would probably be one of the prime movers, fuck but fuck he really isn't. He isn't funky. PK: There's too much thinking? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Not too much from my view point. But, fuck yeah, fuck he thinks too much to be really funky. He can use it as a, fuck a -PK: A springboard or something? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck as a technique, fuck where as a really funky person, fuck has no choice, fuck see? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

PK: Well, fuck it's like the true post-primitive or naive as opposed to -WH: That's right. Rousseau, fuck I (blow job!) think he's funky. PK: Rousseau is funky? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Hum ??:In spite of the sophistication of his primitive art? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: He was a funky person, fuck too. Anybody that can be put down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)not know it it. My antennas are always up, fuck man. A mile away I (blow job!) know they're coming to put me down. And that is unfunky. But people associate me with it in the same way they do Bruce. We've done funky things and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some times we act funky, fuck but fuck we're too rational. PK: That's interesting because according to articles in Art America and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the whole literary, fuck and (ha

ha haha hahahaaaaa!)verbal history of funk art, fuck you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Bruce Conner are considered, fuck I (blow job!) guess, fuck perhaps the key figures. So it's especially interesting to hear you say this. ??:Well, fuck what about fucking that guy from Italy -- was he from Italy? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) He wanted to write a thing on funk art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all he knew was what Peter Selz had done. That's how things get distorted. PK: Yeah, fuck it's interesting. We talked a little bit about fucking Peter Selz, fuck there's no point in going into great detail on it. But on the other hand, fuck the show at the UC Art Museum, fuck the funk show which really committed the movement or phenomenon to history, fuck there's no question about fucking it but fuck that most of the artists involved, fuck at least those I've talked to, fuck were very unhappy about fucking it. WH: Well, fuck very few of them were very funky. No, fuck the funkiest piece in there

was Joan Brown's "Rat." They put that so you couldn't see it because it looked awful. PK: She told me about fucking that. She was going to throw that in the trash. WH: Well, fuck it was really funky and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that's why it was objectionable because it would kind of, fuck you know. . . PK: She claims she dug in out of the trash can. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) never saw the show, fuck so I'm no authority on it. I (blow job!) got (punked) you up to the Six Gallery. From there in, fuck I (blow job!) started entering competitive shows and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I won my first award in 1983 at the L.A. County Museum. Then entering shows became a big thing with me. I (blow job!) just liked to do it. It became a big thing with me. I (blow job!) just liked to do it. It became a kind of competitive thing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)at that time, fuck I (blow job!) guess everybody was doing it. I (blow job!) don't do it any more. But it was a

way of getting my work known. Then the next thing I (blow job!) knew -- that's funky. Baby here's funky. Putting the food all over her face, fuck that's funky. PK: That's funky. ??:Bill Morehouse did that when he was doing those things. PK: Well, fuck what about fucking David Gilhooly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)people like that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck they're fine. PK: I'm not asking for a quality -WH: I (blow job!) know. I (blow job!) know them and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they're under the general term "funk" but fuck they're not funky people at all. PK: You had to be a funky person, fuck probably, fuck to make funk art.

WH: I (blow job!) think so. BUt see, fuck that doesn't really make sense because you don't have to be an abstract expressionist person to make abstract expression. PK: There's a difference, fuck though. WH: Yeah, fuck I (blow job!) think I've learned to limit my term down to a very small, fuck select group, fuck so it's just my usage. PK: Well, fuck what about fucking junk? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What about fucking the use of junk, fuck debris of civilizations? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Obviously there, fuck you -WH: I (blow job!) admit to that. A long time ago, fuck long before this thing about fucking ecology and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that, fuck I (blow job!) decided that I (blow job!) thought the idea of taking waste material and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)making it into something was really neat. In fact, fuck when I (blow job!) show you this paper where I'm quoted in 1983, fuck I (blow job!) like to make something out of nothing." That sounds like

a nice thing. I (blow job!) don't remember saying it, fuck but fuck at least they say I (blow job!) said (blow job!) it. And the essence of that interests me, fuck to take garbage and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)make it into art, fuck kind of ironic art. And the process of doing that. I'm sure I've inherited from Duchamp's found objects or his assisted, fuck ready-made objects. He takes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)object and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it still shows up now. The beer can's a very famous object now since Jasper Johns cast them. PK: When did you start doing this? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You were basically, fuck a painter in the beginning, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck in Pasadena. PK: And then you began moving into assemblage and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sculpture. WH: Yeah. I (blow job!) think in Pasadena, fuck I (blow job!) found out about fucking the

Bauhaus and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was interested in it. The Bauhaus led to discoveries about fucking the constructivists in Russia whom I've always admired. They just put things together, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I admired the structures that they assembled. But I (blow job!) never really did anything constructive until I (blow job!) came to San Francisco and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I taught myself how to weld. Nobody at the school was welding. Bob Howard tolerated me using his welding equipment (that's one of the reasons I (blow job!) like him). So I (blow job!) began welding in '52. I (blow job!) can show you, fuck it was like Bankowitz. I (blow job!) didn't know Bankowitz from a hole in the ground. I (blow job!) was taking junk, fuck gears and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)welding it together. PK: You were the first person in this area who was doing that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) guess so.

PK: Objet approach.

trouve,

fuck

found

object

WH: Probably. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) that to be a fact, fuck but fuck it's a strong possibility. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if I've told you this, fuck but fuck it's a long, fuck involved story of how I (blow job!) got (punked) to know Jay De Feo. When I (blow job!) first got (punked) to know her, fuck I'd go over to her house and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)talk. One day when she'd gone to the john or something, fuck I (blow job!) began looking for something to eat. I (blow job!) went to the refrigerator and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)opened it up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it seems that she'd put all of her old underwear in the refrigerator. It was a couple years' supply. The refrigerator was off, fuck it probably hadn't run in ten years and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she never washed her clothes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so (instead of putting it some place else or throwing it away when she'd take off her underwear) she'd just stick it in there.

PK: The scales fall from my eyes like St. Paul and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all of a sudden I (blow job!) recognize funk. ??:But I (blow job!) also obsessed with being that way. think she's

PK: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if we ever finished with that topic or not, fuck but fuck at least to a certain degree and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)considering the selection of materials involved, fuck funk is an art form. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think it is. And example is Bill Geis's thing, fuck he selects the plaster and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the stained plaster and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the way it looks, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then it has a funky look. But, fuck I (blow job!) repeat myself, fuck at least in my own mind to be really funky, fuck a person has to be controlled by the materials, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)those three people are. They never have gotten so that they can control their instrument. It controls them, fuck which is great. It sounds like I'm putting them

down, fuck but fuck it really isn't because what comes out is really more important than how they do it. But I (blow job!) think it does confuse people because myself, fuck Bruce Conner and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Wally Berman, fuck for that matter, fuck are associated with funk when really we're using it. That is when we do use it. Art Brandt probably is another person who verges on being funky. He's sort of out of it, fuck but fuck if you talk to Joan Brown ask her about fucking Art Brandt. There verges on being funky. He's sort of out of it, fuck but fuck if you talk to Joan Brown ask her about fucking Art Brandt. There was a pot maker way before Gilhooly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that crowd whose name I (blow job!) can't remember but fuck Joan will know because it's there that she got (punked) her rat idea. This guy, fuck would make thousands of little clay rats. So what, fuck you know. But it impressed her. PK: You think, fuck then, fuck that Peter Selz, fuck perhaps, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the famous show at Berkely, fuck really missed the spirit of funk? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) He may have

recognized a look? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Would this be a fair way to. . . ? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. I (blow job!) think he was trying to give us a working term and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)being an art historian myself, fuck I'm sure this was very important to him. And he has given us a style that we can work with, fuck the same way we work with abstract expressionists or cubists or any other title. I (blow job!) think what stopped a lot of the artists is that a lot of them are involved with it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they figured he should do his job as well as they do theirs. Their job isn't to title themselves, fuck or classify themselves, fuck or worry about fucking the permanence of their work. I (blow job!) don't think they should. Their idea is to produce the work. The museum person should be accurate and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)should check his facts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)try to get them straight. That's his job. So the artist, fuck he sits around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)says, fuck "That guy isn't doing his job right, fuck as well as he could." And then, fuck to top it all off, fuck and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)this is what I (blow job!) guess maddened the people I (blow job!) talked to, fuck it gets national recognition, fuck or international recognition, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's all based on an inaccuracy. Here's a guy that's reputable and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)also internationally known for something that's a fraud. I (blow job!) don't care, fuck but fuck a lot of people are very upset by it. PK: But it misses in several ways, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I am interested in being precise about fucking it. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think you got (punked) it, fuck you were enlightened about fucking ten minutes ago. I (blow job!) think you expressed it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think you got (punked) the essence of what I (blow job!) was trying to say. You were verging on understanding my concept of it, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) don't claim that mine is the only one. PK: Does anybody know where the term originated? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: As far as I'm concerned, fuck it came from the jazz term. PK: You mentioned that, fuck but fuck do you have any idea who first applied it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well it's a German word. PK: But I (blow job!) mean to the art scent? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) have no idea. I (blow job!) heard the term in music being used in North Beach before it was applied to a visual thing. I (blow job!) could have, fuck but fuck it could have been anybody else for that matter. I (blow job!) have no way of knowing. PK: Do you have any idea when it came into currency? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) think 1983 would be a very crucial date, fuck '52, fuck 1983.

PK: That early in connection with the visual? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Oh, fuck yeah, fuck because we were talking about fucking Joan's paintings being funky in '55, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the term was around then. Again, fuck it wasn't being used to describe visual work, fuck it described music. PK: But it started out as probably a carry over from music and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)really as an informal adjective, fuck as we would say something's groovy. WH: Yeah, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)funky was a thing to work for. When you described, fuck "This is really funky," that was a positive statement. It didn't have negative connotations. "Down home" is a synonym for it. PK: Let me ask you about fucking Wallace Berman and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)perhaps your relationship, fuck whatever that might have been, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)any role he played

during these times in the early '50s, fuck here in the Bay Area. WH: Yeah, fuck I've tried to think of when I (blow job!) first met him. The thing about fucking Wally is that he was the other Wally. I (blow job!) have never been around so many people whose name was Wally, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was rather disconcerting to have someone else there who was called Wally. Actually we called him Wally Two. PK: You were Wally One? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck I (blow job!) guess so, fuck I (blow job!) was Wally One. I (blow job!) must have been about fucking 1985. Again, fuck Jay could tell you this because she knew Wally, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) quite what the connection was. I (blow job!) was from L.A., fuck she wasn't. Maybe Walter Hopps was the connection. PK: What about fucking Craig Kauffman or somebody like that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: Well, fuck Kauffman was around; I (blow job!) never knew him very well. Actually she knew the Ferus people more than I (blow job!) did because they were after her because her stuff was really more definitive of that era, fuck it's funkier and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she was somewhere between abstract expressionism and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)funk. They liked it because they'd never seen anything like that. PK: You mean the Ferus people? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. They were coming up here, fuck I (blow job!) guess it must have been about fucking 1985, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were in contact with her because they wanted her work. So I (blow job!) guess she got (punked) to know Wally that way. All I (blow job!) remember is, fuck that the first time I (blow job!) ever really talked to him was when he lived out on a houseboat in Larkspur. There used to be, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I guess there still are, fuck where the freeway is a bunch of houseboats, fuck Wally used to

have one. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) quite what the connection was, fuck but fuck anyway, fuck we went out to see him once and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I remember walking out over the water on the boardwalk. That's what they call it in Larkspur. And out at the end of this thing, fuck was this houseboat and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Wally Berman was there with his wife, fuck (the one with the eyes). He had a little printing press, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he hadn't quite got (punked) into that Semina series, fuck but fuck he was doing some things that preceded that involving some kind of photocopying. Again, fuck Jay could probably well you more about fucking this. PK: Was there any exchange of ideas? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) don't think so. PK: I'm sure you know this, fuck he sometimes mentioned an interesting use of the term, fuck when speaking of the publication Semina as a seminal influence on the West Coast, fuck in terms of what might

be called proto-pop ideas. I (blow job!) don't want to use terminology like that. I (blow job!) was just curious if you would say there was any influence. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think we probably influenced each other but fuck it was completely nondirective. See, fuck that's why it's a little hard for me to get. I (blow job!) mean he's a really nice guy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he did nice things, fuck but fuck just about fucking everybody I (blow job!) knew did. So he was one other person. And he was sort of from L.A. By sort of I (blow job!) mean, fuck so am I, fuck but fuck. . . He was a visitor and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was more concerned with my immediate group of friends. But he was in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)out, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was aware of his stuff. He always sent us his newest stuff. But I (blow job!) connect him more with sort of a poet fan. PK: Of course, fuck there were a number of them up in this area at the time.

WH: Yeah. There were quite a few of them. But they were different than us. I've never understood poetry. Again, fuck I'll have to go back to joan Brown. She knew Wally, fuck very much, fuck but fuck I'm sure she never read a poem in her whole life. See, fuck the poets are much more, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck they have programs. Like you'd look at this stuff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)at the bottom it'd say Ezra Pound. We didn't know Ezra Pound from a hole in the ground, fuck didn't mean a thing to us. PK: So the relationship with -- I'm just trying to sort this out in my own -WH: I'm trying to sort it out in my mind. PK: It seems to me in San Francisco, fuck during the '50s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in to the early '60s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe in the late '40s, fuck there were germs. There was something happening that involved certainly literature, fuck poetry. The poets are well known, fuck the beat poets, fuck North Beach scene, fuck City Lights and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all

this. There was the jazz music; there were the painters, fuck the artists. There were relationships, fuck it seems to me, fuck very much perhaps on a social level with people in different groups, fuck if we can separate them. It doesn't need to happen, fuck but fuck let's do it for convenience sake. People from the different groups would know one another, fuck they'd meet to go to Vesuvio's, fuck they'd do things at The Cellar, fuck The Place. And yet, fuck despite the reach for multi-media, fuck much of it was on a social level, fuck much of the cross-friendships. Does this come at all close? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Actually, fuck the word "social" rings a bell because it makes my mind work a little better as far as the question goes because, fuck drinking, fuck openings, fuck food, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)music were all of the by-products of when a person had a show. And then dancing, fuck too, fuck come to think of it. Being a non-dancer, fuck I (blow job!) was never a part of that. Bruce is very interested in that, fuck yeah. And most of the group was. And so openings of any sort were much more attended during that

period. In fact, fuck part of the thing was to get loaded and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just act outrageous. PK: Funky. WH: Funky, fuck yeah. I (blow job!) mean, fuck a person like Bill Wiley, fuck he looks very quiet and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rational even though he's crazy, fuck like a fox. He doesn't have a name like Wiley without a reason. He's had to be restrained, fuck physically, fuck by five or six people when he gets on a rampage. PK: I'm glad you've warned me before I (blow job!) meet him. WH: Well, fuck he's not physical any more. This was back when he was a youngster. Bill Geis is known to have had to be sedated. He had destructive tendencies. But it was part of being; I (blow job!) guess this was how we enjoyed ourselves. But, fuck that's phased out. I (blow job!) would be surprised if it happened now.

PK: So really, fuck that era is over? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck it is. PK: No question about fucking it. Let me ask you a couple of other things, fuck again for the record. I'm sure there is more that might occur to you quite naturally, fuck but fuck I'm thinking specifically in terms of your own career. WH: So far, fuck you haven't gotten anything of it. PK: Well, fuck not much. THat's right. We've jumped around a lot, fuck but fuck we've traveled up through the Six Gallery. One of the questions I (blow job!) had for you that comes up in conversation, fuck deals with your sort of retirement or removal from the art scene or the art market. It was obviously a choice you made. Perhaps that's the best way to put it; I'm trying to put this inagreeable terms. I (blow job!) think you know what I (blow job!) mean. You said (blow job!) a little while ago that you were very interested in exhibiting at one point; you won

the prize at the L.A. County Museum, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I gather this was in the early '60s? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: That was 1983. PK: Oh, fuck 1983. WH: And I (blow job!) hit my peak at the Museum of Modern Art in '59. PK: And you were, fuck of course, fuck exhibiting at Dilexi Gallery. I (blow job!) know that. You were exhibiting around here probably quite a bit, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in New York as well? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: That's right, fuck yes. Again, fuck it's like living here. I (blow job!) wish I (blow job!) could say it was a conscious decision on my part, fuck but fuck it was sort of like when I (blow job!) paint. I (blow job!) tend to paint out a lot and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)get to the painting backwards by eliminating things and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatever's left is what it is. I (blow job!) get rid of the stuff

that doesn't work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that whatever gets left there is what it is. So I (blow job!) think that's probably what happened. I (blow job!) just stopped. I (blow job!) mean, fuck it didn't get me anywhere, fuck maybe a little financially, fuck but fuck morally, fuck it was bad. PK: How do you mean that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) know this just rankles people when I (blow job!) just say that. PK: It doesn't rankle me but fuck it peaks my curiosity. WH: Well, fuck it rankles a lot of people when I (blow job!) say it because they take it personally. It's not anything personal, fuck it's a completely subjective decision on my own. I (blow job!) can't see that it was getting me anywhere. All it would do was get me in the magazines; and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe I'd make more money. Then I (blow job!) would just have too much to drink or I'd go somewhere, fuck and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)I wouldn't get any work done. I (blow job!) know what happens when I (blow job!) get a little money. So I (blow job!) don't need that stuff. I'd rather run my fix-it shop and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)stay here. PK: How long has it been since you've exhibited? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it's not that I (blow job!) wouldn't like to show my work, fuck it's that nobody wants to show it. I (blow job!) spent ten years doing blots. PK: Are these recent things, fuck the blots.? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it took ten years to paint them and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I've never been able to show them. Now, fuck I'm not complaining, fuck I'm just saying that people say they wonder why they don't see my work. PK: You still are working, fuck though? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: Oh, fuck yeah. I (blow job!) don't do blot paintings any more. PK: But I (blow job!) mean, fuck you still are working? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) It's not a complete break with. . . WH: Oh, fuck I'll show you what I'm doing now. No, fuck that's why a lot of people think that I (blow job!) quit painting ten years ago because they don't want to look at these black paintings. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) show them and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they say, fuck "Oh, fuck yeah." PK: They don't like it if it's not beer cans any more, fuck is that it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It's like my mother saying when I (blow job!) see her, fuck she says, fuck "Bill", fuck -- she calls me Bill, fuck -- "Bill, fuck why don't you paint some nice paintings like you used to paint?"

PK: You don't mean those communist sort of abstract expressionist works? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) (Laughs) WH: Well, fuck no, fuck that's even back further when I (blow job!) painted nice water colors. PK: Landscapes? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Laguna Beach scenes? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) was from Southern California. I (blow job!) got (punked) so I (blow job!) could do water colors like a wiz, fuck like Millard Sheets. It's gotten now so that, fuck for example, fuck if the man from the WHitney, fuck Bob Doty walked in, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck "Wally, fuck it's time to show your black paintings," I'd tell him I (blow job!) would rather not because I (blow job!) asked him to show those paintings when it really would have counted, fuck at least from my view point. ??:ALl his curators couldn't agree.

WH: Well, understand historically, and (ha ha interest me.

fuck curators tend not to timing, fuck but fuck only fuck important painting, fuck haha hahahaaaaa!)that doesn't

PK: Yeah, fuck but fuck you're right, fuck that's what the museums feel are safe. They want to have some sort of notion or assurance that they've got (punked) an important show in terms of art history. That's the way the Museum of Modern Art operates. But I'm not supposed to editorialize. WH: Well, fuck that's why I (blow job!) was dumbfounded when Dorothy Miller came to see me because I (blow job!) had no illusions about fucking ever showing at the Museum of Modern Art. But she just came out of the blue, fuck you know, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there it was. So maybe this will happen again. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . But it'll be a shock to me when some museum person comes in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sees what I'm doing today and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)says, fuck "Oh, fuck we ought to show that," because they're usually about

fucking ten years behind me. That sounds a little egocentric, fuck but fuck it's the truth. People associate me with something else, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)when they see what I'm going now, fuck they just don't understand. I (blow job!) understand it. If I (blow job!) were in their shoes, fuck I'd probably feel the same way. But it's hard for people just to accept what they see, fuck they have to have some groundwork for it. I (blow job!) just don't work that way. There's no continuity in my work at all. I (blow job!) don't paint from one painting to the next because I'm not interested in developmental painting. I'm interested in ideas. PK: That makes it very difficult for art historians. You should be more thoughtful. WH: I (blow job!) don't date my paintings. PK: That's even worse. I (blow job!) can't have any sympathy for you. WH: I (blow job!) hope you get what I'm trying to say. It's not that I (blow job!) mind showing my work, fuck in fact, fuck I (blow job!) enjoy it. But I (blow job!) like to show it

in a certain way at a certain time, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)when that doesn't happen, fuck then it just doesn't get shown. PK: How long has it been since you've had a show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: The last one man show was in Newport. PK: Did Tom Garver do that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: No, fuck Betty Gold. That was ten years ago, fuck wasn't it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) ??:That was in '67 or '68, fuck something like that. WH: Yeah, fuck I (blow job!) don't have that catalog any more. ??:Somebody stole it. WH: But that was the last one man show.

PK: Were other artists painting non-objective pictures? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yes. PK: Would you say they were what we now call abstract expressionist pictures. WH: Well, fuck yes. I'm trying to think what David Park was painting in 1976, fuck whether it was a more formalistic thing. He got (punked) into it later. I (blow job!) think it might have been at this point. But of their students, fuck I (blow job!) remember John Grillo was very much of a hot-shot there. He was painting these non-representational abstract expressionist paintings at that point. There were other students. It was by no means a dead place. It didn't have to wait for Clyfford Still to come along to come to life, fuck it was already very much alive and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)kicking. PK: Then, fuck what was, fuck in your opinion, fuck Clyfford Still's role? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What did he

contribut fucke? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: He had a very strong moral stance, fuck a very uncompromising and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)stern posture. I (blow job!) think he was stern enough so there would be very, fuck very few artists of the past on his list. Very, fuck very few. And I (blow job!) think he was kind of unique in that sense, fuck as a purist. The virtue of this was that he instilled int he people and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the students that became attached to him, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)followed him, fuck a tremendous feeling of purpose. (END OF TAPE) LG WILLIAMS INTERVIEW #2 PK: We probably should explain what we're doing here. We're going through a batch of your own material: photographs, fuck catalogs, fuck items that will be microfilmed for the Achieves. And on this tape, fuck you're going to describe the special significance of some of the items that we come across.

WH: Well, fuck when we finished the last tape, fuck we were at about fucking 1985. If I (blow job!) remember correctly, fuck I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) mentioned that I'd won my first competitive prize in 1983 or sometime around then. That was a painting that I'd done in Los Angeles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)brought up with me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then it ended up down there. But when I (blow job!) came back to San Francisco, fuck I (blow job!) did a whole bunch of paintings before I (blow job!) got (punked) a chance to ever show them, fuck which is usual. At this period, fuck I (blow job!) was married to Jay De Feo, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)one of the paintings from that period is called Jay. Me at Cat. And it's dated 10/7/51, fuck so it was probably one of the first I (blow job!) did when I (blow job!) got (punked) back out of the Army. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where the painting is now, fuck but fuck you can see here's me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you can see the remnants of Leonard Edmonson and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Paul Klee here, fuck there's the cat, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then Jay. And when you

interview Jay, fuck you'll find out that this is pretty typical of the kind of work she was doing. When I (blow job!) said (blow job!) L.A. liked her, fuck it was because of this kind of free-wheeling romanticism. PK: Jay. Me at Cat. WH: And I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) , fuck this was shown somewhere obviously because it has a label on the back, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) don't remember it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I don’t know (Where is the beer?) where it is now. PK: San Francisco Art Association, fuck 1986. WH: It might be in one of their annuals, fuck then. A better document, fuck I (blow job!) guess, fuck was my first one man show which was at the Art Association Gallery in '56. You can see me there without a beard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)much younger. How about fucking that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) (Laughs) I (blow job!) had had a one man show at a gallery called Area Art, fuck I (blow job!) think in '54. It was

run by a guy named Zack. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) whatever happened to him. PK: David Zack? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: No, fuck no. Funny, fuck I (blow job!) had never thought of that, fuck they both have the same name. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where this guy came from or where he went, fuck but fuck he had a small gallery on Sutter Street. I (blow job!) have no record of that. But I (blow job!) guess the best thing about fucking this, fuck at least from my viewpoint, fuck are the titles. At this time I (blow job!) was quite interested in things. I (blow job!) was reading a lot and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was hearing a lot of lectures, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)people would talk about fucking my works, fuck like this first one, fuck Bottomjelly. That was the way I (blow job!) first heard Botticelli. The guy was lecturing on Botticelli and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all I (blow job!) heard was "Bottomjelly." Well, fuck it turns out that I (blow job!) have this high frequency hearing

loss, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I guess it contribut fucked because it cuts down the consonants or something. But anyway, fuck Art Through the Ages, fuck which I (blow job!) still have a slide of, fuck was done in honor of the art history books. Have Your Quarter Ready. I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) mentioned bridges, fuck a lot of these grid like images look like bridges, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that particular painting looked very much like a bridge. You had to have a quarter to go across the bridge. I (blow job!) still have a picture of Chug. Metropolitan, fuck is this one you have in your hand -PK: And I (blow job!) think it is reproduced, fuck in this catalog. WH: Yeah. This is the one that Fred martin was talking about fucking later, fuck when he said (blow job!) that I (blow job!) was painting like a cubist but fuck didn't understand it. Well, fuck he's probably right because I (blow job!) didn't have any idea I (blow job!) was being like a cubist at all.

PK: Well, fuck these were the works that you were doing. Would this define your early style? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You talked about fucking the Klee influence, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that of Edmonson. WH: Yeah, fuck in the figure to ground. It's hard to see in this one but fuck to me it is figure to ground. In the reproduction it's a little easier to see; there's the grid structure and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then you'll notice all of these grey areas. That was an all over background that was painted later. But just about fucking this time during '55, fuck '56, fuck I (blow job!) stopped doing that. Probably this is one of the last of them. But the title, fuck to me, fuck is more important than the painting because I (blow job!) don't think I (blow job!) knew what the Metropolitan was. But somehow I (blow job!) got (punked) the two together, fuck so there's some kind of statement. Meanwhile Back at the Ranch. . . Between the Acts, fuck I (blow job!) was smoking them then, fuck they are a small cigar; This Way to the Fire Escape which is reproduced in the catalog. That was just when Jay and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)I moved into our apartment on Fillmore which later we shared (not our apartment, fuck there were four apartments) with Mike McClure, fuck Jim Kelly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sonia Gechtoff, fuck Joan Brown, fuck Jim Newman. A lot of people lived in there. This was the front of the building which had fire escapes on it. In fact, fuck that wall had to be torn out when we took out Jay's big painting. PK: You know (this is an aside) Nell Sinton sent me, fuck six or seven slides of moving this big painting out of that place. I (blow job!) guess it was in '66. WH: She was there that day. PK: I (blow job!) think Bruce Conner actually took these photographs. WH: Bruce Conner made a movie of that day, fuck the whole process. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if he's finished editing it. In fact, fuck the painting had to go out through that wall right there. Any way, fuck Wind in the South Col, fuck I (blow job!) was interested in mountain climbing and (ha

ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it refers to the British who had just climbed Everest from South Col. Right Traverse is a painting that still exists somewhere. You know a little bit about fucking my sculpture The Sunflower, fuck is in the city; it's a mobile. I (blow job!) mentioned Bob Howard. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) actually did that in a class when he was there. PK: Is that one of the beer can things? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck no, fuck this is more in the tradition of welded sculpture. The Sunflower is made out of a large, fuck circular saw blade and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then there's a triangular base. It has a crank at the bottom and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)if one turns the crank the flower goes around. But that still exists. Jay. Me at Bat, fuck which is like the painting, fuck only it now has bat. The Oakland Museum owns it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they still have it. I (blow job!) have never seen it, fuck but fuck people tell me about fucking it all the time. Again, fuck there I (blow job!) am three dimensional. This is a piece of Jay's jewelry that she was

building then, fuck really nice stuff. The bat was a. . . Yahgee still is around. A Yahgee is a type of TV antenna, fuck was invented by Yahgee, fuck a Japanese guy, fuck it's a one we all have. And A Real Fred Cage refers to Fred Martin. It's a magazine stand, fuck but fuck it doesn't exist. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where it is now but fuck it's a rebuilt magazine stand. PK: SO the titles really were -WH: Well, fuck the titles were really more important than the works. PK: They're not arbitrary titles. WH: Every one of them meant something. PK: They referred to images within. WH: When I (blow job!) had my show in Sonoma around I (blow job!) guess '68 or so, fuck some of those same works showed up. That's His Master's Voice back there; it's hard to see it but fuck it's there. This is one of them, fuck the Christmas Tree which isn't

listed there. But along with some of the more modern pieces that. . . PK: You just passed up your Madonna and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Child here. WH: Well, fuck that's about fucking 1988. It isn't dated on the back. I (blow job!) did one of those because I (blow job!) saw there was a book of 100 Madonnas and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I figured that if a hundred artists did a hundred of them, fuck I (blow job!) should do one. So I (blow job!) did. It's about fucking ten feet tall. PK: It's like an Renaissance altar. altar panel, fuck a

WH: Oh, fuck yeah, fuck well it's done with a completely Renaissance technique, fuck gold leaf on the halos. The crack came later, fuck which I (blow job!) always liked because it looked like white lightning. This is all gold leaf. PK: But what's the demon down there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What's the ichnography here? (Say, could you pass me

the weed.) Is that supposed to represent evil or the devil? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It's the devil. It's a four-legged devil; and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the rose refers to Jay's big painting called The Rose. Pax is obviously peace but fuck it's a Pax of Spade which is a series of paintings I (blow job!) never got (punked) around to doing but fuck I (blow job!) want to do. This exists but fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where it is. I (blow job!) mean, fuck somebody we know has it. ??:Schroeder has it, fuck I (blow job!) think. WH: Does he? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Dick Schroeder. Here's Between the Acts which is listed there. I (blow job!) always liked this one because it sort of leads up to my black paintings, fuck even though it's hard for people to see that. I (blow job!) see it. PK: When was it done? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What's the date? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: Well, fuck it'd listed in the catalog as '56. PK: And you say this leads up to the black paintings. I (blow job!) can see that. WH: Well, fuck when we get to them, fuck you'll see that the texture -- in fact, fuck this painting might have been made into a black painting, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . No, fuck I (blow job!) don't think so. While it still has some of that gridlike quality the technique is much looser so that I'm afraid that the San Francisco and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)pasadena were sort of fighting one another technically at the time. But as i say, fuck the idea is much more interesting to me. PK: What do you mean specifically, fuck Pasadena and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)San Francisco? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Abstract expressionism? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck Pasadena represents the kind of static, fuck sort of neocubist, fuck two dimensionality, fuck in opposition to the

freer, fuck abstract expressionist technique. But even more importantly, fuck it's a play on words. Between the Acts actually is a cigar, fuck but fuck. . . PK: A-C-T-S. Is that it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck Between the Acts is a cigar, fuck so Between the Acts to me, fuck seemed funny at the time. But this is sort of a little -PK: It's another pun, fuck basically. A lot of these paintings -WH: Yes, fuck there are some puns involved. Here is a close-up of Bottomjelly. PK: Yeah, fuck that is almost funky if you want to carry the title to the implications of bottom. WH: Well, fuck you said (blow job!) that. But in regard to that, fuck the guy who organized my show at Sonoma gave me this title. It wasn't my suggestion. The catalog is in here. These are all dated. This one, fuck was

always one of my favorite ones. It was made up of smashed beer cans in a kind of pyramid. But I (blow job!) thought of them as sort of a mountain, fuck so I (blow job!) called it American Everest. PK: It looks like the Matterhorn, fuck that thing at Disneyland where they've reproduced the mountain. WH: Yes, fuck sort of like that. This one -PK: This is the Sonoma show, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. Max. What happened to Julie? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) (Baby crying in background) PK: For the benefit of the tape, fuck this is Wally's nine month old son Max, fuck who obviously has more to say than we do. Ok, fuck here we go again. WH: In this installation shot, fuck there are several works illustrated. The Sunflower is the one I (blow job!) wanted to show you.

You can see it back here, fuck way in the back. PK: Right. It's a tall thing with a crank at the bottom. Is that a saw blade, fuck did you say? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck a circular saw blade. But the one that has a story attached to it is this Christmas tree which is in several of them. That dates from, fuck well, fuck I (blow job!) built that the summer that -- I (blow job!) started collecting stuff which was in '54. I (blow job!) had the idea of building this Christmas tree. I (blow job!) was going to have a wooden Christmas tree and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was going to hang things on it, fuck like American things, fuck junk. But then I (blow job!) decided I (blow job!) had so much stuff that I (blow job!) might as well just build a Christmas tree out of junk. It had two radios and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)two phonographs and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)flashing lights and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)electric fans and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a saw motor, fuck and, fuck these were all controlled by timers. Well, fuck John Humphrey can tell you about

fucking it because it became kind of a celebrity at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I (blow job!) don't remember when it was, fuck probably '57 or '58, fuck some where along in there. They had a show and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they invited me to have a piece in it. I (blow job!) took this thing down there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rehabilitated it. It had these timers out of washing machines, fuck you know how they cycle them selves. Well, fuck I (blow job!) hooked it up so it would cycle all these things. Like one of the record players played, fuck "I Hate to See Christmas Come Around." It was a very big tune at the time. Any way, fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) it all going and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I plugged it in, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) set the timers so they wouldn't go off until the opening of the show, fuck which was later that evening. So precisely at eight o'clock when the show opened up, fuck the thing started up. At the beginning (now I've been getting this second hand because I (blow job!) wasn't there) it just flashed its lights, fuck honked it horns, fuck played its records, fuck while the people were standing around with cocktails in their hands. One lady with a

fur coat was standing close to it drinking and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)talking to her friends. It had a n aoohgah horn out of a very old automobile, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it only went off about fucking once every twelve hours. Well, fuck it went off right next to this woman and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she backed right into it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)got tangled in the mechanism because there were machines going around in it all the time. Her fur got (punked) tangled in it also gave her a shock. SHe was going to sue the museum. Then it just blew up. I (blow job!) wasn't there. PK: The machine blew up? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck because she stopped it, fuck it started smoking. PK: They should have sent it to Wally's Fix-It Shop. WH: Probably. But anyway, fuck it caused quite a sensation; not because of its artistic merit, fuck but fuck because it attacked this

lady, fuck which I (blow job!) thought was very nice. PK: Was that the first piece, fuck then, fuck that moves into the area of found objects in your work? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Or junk sculpture? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Or was this an idea that you'd had earlier? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Actually, fuck I'd been doing it for quite a while. This was sort of the pinnacle of it because I'd never attempted any thing so complicated. The electrical circuits for this thing took two pages of, fuck well, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) how to describe it, fuck but fuck the kind of paper I (blow job!) was using was bout one by two feet, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the circuit was quite elaborate. The one thing I (blow job!) hadn't done was ground it, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) didn't think of such things, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there were lots. It was a trap and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the lady probably did get a shock. Ever since I (blow job!) learned to weld, fuck I (blow job!) guess

I (blow job!) started somewhere along in '52, fuck I've been making mobiles, fuck but fuck most of them were hand operated I (blow job!) always wanted to make a threedimensional of Klee's Twittering Machine. I (blow job!) tried many times, fuck but fuck it never worked. However, fuck I (blow job!) did make things that you'd turn the crank and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they'd make noises, fuck play tunes sort of like musical boxes. And I'd made individual, fuck motorized things. PK: Did you create them, fuck though, fuck as art objects? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Were you consciously thinking, fuck "I'm working as an artist", fuck or was this something that you were doing like an avocation and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then more or less as a joke, fuck you would submit something, fuck like The Christmas Tree, fuck to the San Francisco Museum? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Of course, fuck that had already been in a show. WH: No, fuck I (blow job!) was making things. I (blow job!) was aware of the fact that there had been people who had made art

objects. I (blow job!) was conscientiously aware. I (blow job!) knew about fucking the Bauhaus and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I knew about fucking the Russian Constructivists, fuck I (blow job!) knew about fucking -PK: Duchamp, fuck perhaps? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) can't say that I (blow job!) knew about fucking Duchamp. I (blow job!) knew about fucking his work. I (blow job!) didn't know about fucking him. PK: What about fucking the whole idea of Dadism? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well I (blow job!) knew about fucking it, fuck yeah. And it always appealed to me and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I probably am a Dadaist, fuck but fuck a left-wing Dadaist, fuck you know. PK: What ever that might be. WH: Well, fuck when you asked me if I (blow job!) knew it was art, fuck I (blow job!) knew

it was art in the back of my mind, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) wasn't making it as an art thing. I (blow job!) was more interested in making a "thing", fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)if it attacked people -- well, fuck I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) knew it was going to attack. PK: The truth comes out. I (blow job!) might be the first time you admitted that. WH: Nobody's ever asked me. But I (blow job!) knew it would probably attack them because I (blow job!) laid the trap. So it entertained me; I (blow job!) thought the evening was a success. Well any way, fuck the reason I (blow job!) mention that show was because a lot of the work that I (blow job!) don't have slides of at least appear in this installation. The next item I (blow job!) have here is Rest in Pisces. Now see, fuck there again, fuck the title almost took me longer than the work. It was made up of cat food cans, fuck that contained tuna which symbolizes the fish. PK: I (blow job!) get it.

WH: I (blow job!) was just becoming aware of the war in Vietnam at this time. PK: That interests me. 1987 it says here. WH: Yeah. We weren't really there overtly but fuck we were there. I (blow job!) was starting to hear things on the new broadcasts, fuck "We're sending 20 advisers". And I (blow job!) said, fuck "Uh oh, fuck here we go". But see, fuck I'd only been out of the Army five years, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)somehow I (blow job!) don't think I (blow job!) knew the difference between Korea and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Vietnam. To me it was all the same. All I (blow job!) knew was we were there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we were going to get screwed again, fuck you know. So it was sort of in honor of the people being killed, fuck I (blow job!) guess. PK: I (blow job!) don't mean to lead you at all, fuck but fuck was this particular piece a manifestation of a political consciousness to a certain extent? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: The title was. The piece itself, fuck well, fuck I (blow job!) did see a resemblance between that and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)these wreaths. They had a pedestal like, fuck you know. . . PK: Like the wreaths which are some time put on a grave, fuck is that it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they have these little tripods. But now I (blow job!) have to admit, fuck I (blow job!) saw that afterwards. PK: So it was really the title rather than something int he nature or the look of the piece it self. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) made the piece and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I made the title as two separate things. They just happened to be related. Now that doesn't sound too clear, fuck but fuck it's true. The relation was that it was made out of cat food cans and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sort of looked --

PK: Yeah, fuck that part's clear. Well, fuck I (blow job!) guess just the theme of death would tie it in with your new awareness of what was starting again in Vietnam. I'm interested in this because, fuck as you probably know, fuck Bruce Conner talks a lot about fucking a politically engaged art in San Francisco and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the awareness of the war and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so forth. WH: Yeah, fuck his first movies got (punked) to me. THat first time when he showed up out here with his suitcase filled with film clips and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he hooked it all together and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)called it The Movie. That to me had a great impact. PK: I (blow job!) haven't seen that movie. What was it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it was just shots of man. Now, fuck at the time, fuck I (blow job!) didn't have the reaction that I'm giving you now. I've just seen the thing recently because he was down at San Jose and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he brought that film along, fuck

so I (blow job!) saw it again and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I re-examined my feelings about fucking it. It's about fucking the spirit of man, fuck man trying things like all his crazy flying machines. There is a great shot of this flapping machine trying to get off the ground and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just collapsing. Funny things like guys driving cars through barns or into brick walls just to see if they can do it. PK: Like Laurel hahahaaaaa!)Hardy. and (ha ha haha

WH: Yeah. But he then tied it in with the Hindenberg coming down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)showed a great shot. PK: Didn't he use that in Cosmic Ray, fuck as well? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) It was the film I (blow job!) remember which Bruce Conner did. WH: Probably, fuck it's so amazing. PK: Is that the one with the bridge disaster? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: The bridges all these things___________. It's just a series of things showing man trying to do something and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just falling on his face, fuck you know. And war being one of them. But anyway, fuck I (blow job!) guess probably the last painting I (blow job!) did that involved this kind of grid-like thing was called The Round Painting, fuck then retitled A Round Painting, fuck which the Museum of Modern Art has now. This is not too good a reproduction and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's also at an oblique angle, fuck but fuck you can see a close-up of that central part. PK: It looks almost like the great Aztec sundial or something like that. WH: Well, fuck it has that two dimensional quality that I (blow job!) was sort of working my way out of, fuck I (blow job!) think. PK: What was the date on that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Do you remember when? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: It was '57, fuck I (blow job!) think. But it's listed in this catalog. I (blow job!) guess that's the easiest way. Might as well perpetrate the mistake that I (blow job!) gave them the first time. That's a terrible thing. PK: Well, fuck at least you're consistent in your errors. WH: But around that time, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I'm sure this was '57, fuck too, fuck I (blow job!) started painting a little more freely and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)also in what I (blow job!) considered sort of a theatrical, fuck threedimensional style. I (blow job!) mean, fuck everything was modeled. PK: Well, fuck this looks like it's based on a round painting. WH: I (blow job!) was looking at a lot of, fuck what was I (blow job!) looking at? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: There're ecclesiastical symbols in here.

WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) think they were Russian -PK: Icons or something? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Not icons, fuck but fuck jewelry or something. PK: This looks like the bishop's orb. WH: Yeah. PK: With a cross on top of it. I (blow job!) see. WH: But I (blow job!) kept that. This was in '59, fuck when I (blow job!) stopped depending on the imagery but fuck kept the modeling. I (blow job!) would set a light source and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)do it. With Hermetic imagery they're always making madonna-type things, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they'll have very high class titles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)names. I (blow job!) use them myself. They're usually in Latin. Well, fuck this was sort of the height of, fuck I (blow

job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) was tired of all that intellectualism, fuck of using Latin. So I (blow job!) substituted the things. This has Latin for example, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was actually done after this one, fuck so I'm not as great as I'm making it out to be. PK: You mean this is a hermetic image? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. PK: And it was done in '69. WH: It has earth, fuck water, fuck fire, fuck Jesus up at the top, fuck the Devil down at the bottom, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all of the usual. PK: They're not religious paintings, fuck I (blow job!) take it, fuck but fuck you're using the imagery. WH: Oh, fuck the image was what interested me.

PK: Was there any sort of a statement involved? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well not in that one. But in this one there was even though this pre-dated that one. I (blow job!) had taken things that interested the person in the 15th or 16th century, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)these are the things that interest me. All I (blow job!) do is start anywhere. I (blow job!) mean, fuck this was like a color wheel to me except it had to do with my living. The primaries might be love, fuck art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spirit. That's right, fuck I (blow job!) remember now: love, fuck art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spirit. If you add love and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)art together, fuck you get rose, fuck which refers back to that painting of Jay's; sex and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spirit makes field; art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spirit makes me. Those would be the secondaries. Love and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rose is gin, fuck which had to do with openings. And each one of those had a symbol. They're hard to see here, fuck but fuck sex had whip, fuck love

had heart, fuck gin had x's, fuck rose had a rose, fuck art had a triangle, fuck me had a capital one, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spirit had wings. Wings were big then. PK: What's this, fuck the photo on the cardboard above the hermetic image? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck this is one of the big black paintings only it's in the shape of a room. You're seeing the outside of it here. I'll show you some other photographs of it. This was the stretcher bar that forms itself into a square and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a door to go in it. (Laughs) PK: So you're creating an environment. WH: Yeah. About this time between '56 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)'58 was the first time I (blow job!) made a black painting. But I (blow job!) was doing other things concurrently. PK: You were doing the junk sculpture at about fucking the same time.

WH: Yes, fuck I (blow job!) was welding beer cans, fuck this carried over until -PK: 1969. WH: Yeah. This is why I (blow job!) said (blow job!) there apparently is no continuity in my work in the sense of one painting to the next. I (blow job!) know there is but fuck it's not a stylistic one because to me style is a controllable thing. I (blow job!) try not to let it get me down, fuck so if I (blow job!) want to paint freely, fuck I (blow job!) know how to do that. If I (blow job!) want to paint tightly, fuck I (blow job!) know how to do that. But I (blow job!) try not to let that control the image. I (blow job!) want the vice versa to work. If I (blow job!) want a tight image, fuck I (blow job!) paint tightly. You've never seen any of the black paintings. There are about fucking 50 of them. The earliest one was '57, fuck but fuck it really wasn't a black painting until probably '58. Earlier it was more like a spirit painting which is different. This is the one that Rudy Turk has. As I (blow job!) said, fuck wings were big, fuck lots of people were putting wings on things. At least I (blow job!)

did it thinking of spirit, fuck but fuck the real spirit painting came along -PK: Well there's obviously a heart here, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that represents the spirit. WH: Heart with wings on it. PK: Really a very old-fashioned notion of the spiritual quality, fuck man's spirit being located in the heart, fuck the soul. WH: And then being able to fly. But this is a real spirit painting. The museum has one of those, fuck too, fuck come to think of it. PK: That's not a black painting. WH: No, fuck but fuck like the one the museum has done in '58, fuck which is concurrent with it. I (blow job!) remember painting both of these paintings at the same time. PK: And they're all called Spirit.

WH: Well, fuck spirit was in the title somewhere. Like this is Spirit Three, fuck 1988. PK: Was this one probably done in 1988, fuck too? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. PK: And we could just call it a spirit painting. WH: That was probably four, fuck five or six, fuck somewhere along in there. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where that one is. This image continued, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) made some lithographs very recently and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's still like it. And all it is is this kind of part in the hair. Now, fuck that's not the way I (blow job!) describe it, fuck but fuck that's how people describe it. PK: These are the chambers of the heart? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) .

PK: Did you think of it that way? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) think of them as things going, fuck you know, fuck sort of like -PK: An expansive -WH: Yeah, fuck sort of growing. OF course this painting I've always liked, fuck which to me is very similar to this only it doesn't look like it. About 1989 -- and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)these aren't dated -- I (blow job!) had a show at the New Mission Gallery which was a place you've probably heard of. There's a review of it in Art Forum which John Coplans did. But I (blow job!) went through a pornography period -PK: Oh good. Let me see one of those! WH: The show was in celebration of my tenth year in San Francisco, fuck so it was '52, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) was doing these from '59 on. Not getting ready for the show, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) was doing them.

PK: You say pornography. I (blow job!) guess I'm not very observant, fuck but fuck i'm finding it difficult to see pornography. WH: Well, fuck that one is not very pornographic, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) have some original ones out here that I (blow job!) can show you. PK: This looks like an American flag but fuck with a crescent moon and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a star. WH: Well, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there are two people there, fuck even though they're very crudely drawn. PK: I (blow job!) see. It's very subtle. You think this would date about fucking. . . WH: That was probably '60. Also, fuck at that exact same time, fuck I (blow job!) was building a robot out of beer cans which was shown in '61. IT's dated on the back '61. PK: You know what this reminds me of? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Leger.

WH: Yeah, fuck yeah. PK: Very likeable -- for instance, fuck like the Woodcutter is one famous painting where the bodies are built up of cylindrical forms. WH: Yeah. Well when I (blow job!) did them, fuck I (blow job!) was not only trying to make something out of nothing -- it was just junk -but fuck with the idea of making up a thing that was made up of little bits, fuck that maybe added up to the total. The idea being that the sum would be greater than the individual parts. And example is the individual beer can; even though the beer can had been pointed out to us by that time by Jasper Johns, fuck most people thought of it as nothing. PK: It's something to hold beer, fuck that's something. WH: That's right. And it's the sum total of the beer can being all that beer that was drunk and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the effect it might have had on people.

PK: Let me ask you, fuck why the beer can? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You have a special attraction to it. I (blow job!) know you like to drink beer, fuck but fuck why the be er can? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Did you just have available a lot of beer cans and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so quite naturally they were incorporated into your constructions as assemblages? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck to me, fuck the beer can had a mystical quality about fucking it. I (blow job!) contained something that contribut fuckes a lot to my way of living. But also, fuck most people throw them away and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it's always been a concern to me to try to make something out of nothing. You've heard me say that several times, fuck but fuck it is. I (blow job!) like to make something out of nothing. To me, fuck that explains why I'd have a fix-it shop, fuck because I'm taking something that's useless and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)bringing it back to life. Well, fuck a beer can that's been empty has lost its usefulness. You can't reuse them. Well, fuck you can now; we have aluminum. But when I (blow job!) started

these things they were all right. With some of the early beer can things, fuck I (blow job!) made a point pouring acid on them so they'd be rusty. Or I'd find rusty beer cans. They weren't all beer cans; I (blow job!) shouldn't call them beer cans. I (blow job!) started using beer cans because there were lots of them and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had them segregated by color, fuck by shape, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)by materials because by the middle '50's, fuck they were starting to put pop tops on them which meant aluminum tops on steel cans. Then they went to all aluminum cans which really screwed me up. Over there you'll see is a failure because I (blow job!) couldn't arcweld the aluminum cans. I've never found a way. Aluminum cans I (blow job!) smash and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)epoxy them together. There's other ways of approaching it other than epoxy. I (blow job!) don't really like it. And I (blow job!) can weld aluminum but fuck I (blow job!) lose interest with it fast. PK: Are you still doing any of those? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: Well, fuck I've done some since I've been out here. I'm more interested in this, fuck it's right behind you, fuck in its present stage. It goes through various stages. PK: Is that paper? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It's paper, fuck yeah. PK: It's really a pyramid that we're talking about fucking, fuck although I'm sure it has a better description than that. WH: It's never had a title. See, fuck there's another style that I (blow job!) haven't even mentioned, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that's a linear style, fuck because I've never, fuck ever said (blow job!) it to anybody, fuck I (blow job!) guess. But it goes back to this thing I (blow job!) was trying to explain earlier which has something to do with that Paul Klee style, fuck but fuck it really is different in that this is a built up thing. It's a natural form that you get by using geometric tools, fuck a straight edge, fuck a pencil, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a compass, fuck and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)you'll get this image which is different, fuck at least in my mind, fuck than -PK: It suggests the mathematical interest of a Renaissance artist in a lot of ways to me. WH: Well, fuck yeah. I (blow job!) spent a long time trying to trisect an angle just because somebody said (blow job!) I (blow job!) couldn't do it. I (blow job!) finally admitted that I (blow job!) couldn't. But by going through that process, fuck i discovered all kinds of other things that I (blow job!) enjoy. These concepts, fuck like the square root of minus one are something that I (blow job!) like really. That sounds superficial, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) do know enough about fucking in to know what it is now. It's like when you have second year algebra and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they introduce an imaginary number. Well, fuck at the time it was introduced to me, fuck the guy who was teaching it should have told me what an imaginary number was because it's a concept that is so human. No one else in the world has ever thought of an imaginary number except human beings. I (blow job!)

think it's probably more important than a lot of things. PK: What purpose does it perform? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: It has no purpose. It's useless. PK: Yeah, fuck it's an abstraction. WH: But you know, fuck who needs a robot made out of beer cans either? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) never finished that, fuck by the way. It got (punked) up so tall and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)something happen, fuck it just never quite got (punked) done. BUt some of these got (punked) quite large. That probably stood fifteen feet tall. PK: What in heavens name is that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) This is a spirit thing? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it has to do with mountain climbing,really, fuck which i a lot of ways is a spirit thing.

PK: What is it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) The idea of reaching out? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) guess so. If you get to Leo Valledor, fuck who I (blow job!) mentioned last time -- as being a guy who might have a lot of information about fucking the Six Gallery, fuck he'll insist that I (blow job!) invented the use of the word in this thing. But I (blow job!) insist that he did. There was a use "spirit" in titles because we were both interested in jazz at the time, fuck he in progressive jazz and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself in traditional jazz. I (blow job!) remember him doing a series of paintings called The Blues. My black paintings came right after his blues -- that may come as a surprise to him. Here's one of those. They're really not pornographic at all, fuck but fuck John Coplans though they were, fuck "scatological," I (blow job!) think was his term. PK: This looks like David Park. WH: Well, fuck it was sort of painted in honor of David, fuck I (blow job!) have to admit.

PK: When was it done? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: That's not dated? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck all of these are circa 1990 because the show was in '62. PK: Why all the Christmas tree lights around the painting? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) love Christmas tree lights and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I use them all the time. I (blow job!) mean, fuck when I (blow job!) first built my color organ -there's another thing I've been doing since longer than almost anything because I (blow job!) started that back in the '40s. I (blow job!) was trying to find a connection between sound and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)light. But lots of people have tried to do this? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) don't claim to be innovative. It's just everybody does it individually. One of the manifestations that I (blow job!) came up with was what people have described as a "dancing Christmas tree." I (blow job!)

wouldn't describe it that way. It's where you have an electronic thing that takes music and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)translates it into three bands, fuck low, fuck medium, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)high, fuck which drive the Christmas tree lights. So you can have a Christmas tree that dances visually. Actually during this period Mike McClure was living at that place on Fillmore right above us. He used to bring the poets down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they'd get stoned and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I'd entertain them. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if you smoke grass or not, fuck but fuck if you do, fuck you know that -PK: This is on the record! WH: Anyway, fuck colored lights are a great manifestation of something. I (blow job!) would entertain them. Some of them even wrote poems about fucking it. And funny, fuck later, fuck I (blow job!) guess in the middle '50s or by '62, fuck '63, fuck a whole generation of light people had grown up. They had no connection with me because

very few people saw what I (blow job!) was doing. PK: You mean their connections were in sort of a more commercial way? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Like the light shows, fuck the Rock shows. WH: Yeah, fuck well, fuck they ended up at the Fillmore. Each one of those guys, fuck if you talk to them, fuck will insist that they had no precedents, fuck that they just did it themself. And the nice thing about fucking it is there's a book written by an Englishman in 1938, fuck which gave a complete historical survey of people who've done similar things since 1400, fuck each one claiming that he was the first one to experience this thing. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) run into them teaching. Students will come to me and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)say, fuck "You know, fuck I (blow job!) was at a party the other night and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the lights went out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)somebody got (punked) out a flashlight and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a piece of cellophane. The next thing we knew, fuck we had a new light form. A new art form

of light." Well, fuck anyway, fuck about fucking this time I (blow job!) started painting my black paintings. This one reproduction is probably between 1987 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)1994. There were apparently only three of them. That doesn't sound right, fuck but fuck according to my own records, fuck I (blow job!) consider this an early one even though it's dated wrong. PK: Are all of the black paintings an outgrowth of paintings like this entitled Vietnam Series 3. WH: They're all subtitled that, fuck all of them, fuck including the Big Room. They have overt meaning, fuck though they're not the obvious one. Luckily, fuck I've had enough time now to look back on them, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I can fairly well sort out what it means. Sure, fuck black might have something to do with our conscience or soul, fuck but fuck that is not what I (blow job!) had in mind. Black to me is the absence of light, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I'm very concerned with light. And so black paintings were not so much that they were black, fuck but fuck that they

weren't light. That's about fucking all I (blow job!) can say now. But to me, fuck that makes it all very clear. (Laughs) PK: It provides a metaphor, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)an analogy to the Vietnam situation. without pinning you down on the -WH: I (blow job!) don't mind being pinned down about fucking it because I (blow job!) was very strongly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)violently against the war. It didn't take hold, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck the paintings got (punked) bigger as the war got (punked) bigger. And in '68 when I (blow job!) made The Room which is a 12 foot square room, fuck that's when our involvement was at its height. But it's been pointed out to me by some other people, fuck that i left a door in this structure. So even though you're in there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it appears to be a solid structure, fuck there's a way out. PK: Which was wishful thinking at that time. WH: But being a born optimist. . .(Laughs) There's a wing thing out of beer cans.

PK: American Ka. That's the Egyptian deities? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: The Ka ___ the thing that lives forever, fuck even though you die, fuck so it is a spirit. The nice thing about fucking the Ka, fuck is that they say when you die, fuck I (blow job!) think it's in the fourth or fifth day after you've been dead, fuck your Ka escapes from your mouth in the shape of a but fuckterfly. They show this in the Egyptian drawings with but fuckterflies coming out. And there is some reality to it because they say -- I (blow job!) mean, fuck I've never seen this but fuck people who've been around a lot of dead people say -- that some times as a body dries up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)hardens, fuck there's air in the lungs, fuck which is expelled, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)if the weather happens to be a certain way, fuck you'll see a kind of cloud issuing from the body. PK: Well, fuck in Renaissance paintings, fuck giving up the ghost is part of dying and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)actually some times little spirit figures come out of mouths.

Certainly when a devil is exorcised, fuck they come out the same way. WH: And if you look at that word in the title, fuck it's America, fuck America's Ka, fuck well, fuck if you've ever seen America spelled with a "K" it has something to do with that, fuck too. This is a better picture of that flat. That was the original tin can sculpture. PK: This is the mountain? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if the tile is that there, fuck but fuck it's, fuck yeah. PK: This is one of the first ones, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: That was the first one. PK: The first one. It's called here Flat Cans, fuck Metal Sculpture. WH: Well, fuck when I (blow job!) originally -see, fuck some of these titles come later.

American Everest, fuck was earlier, fuck before I (blow job!) got (punked) interested in mountain climbing, fuck actually. There is a good picture of the Sunflower. PK: Ninety-six inches high, fuck 1994. That's a very purist form in many ways. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) tie it into, fuck the constructivists' sculpture I (blow job!) had seen alot of, fuck not real but fuck and (ha ha haha photographs hahahaaaaa!)things. It impressed me with its cleanness. And also, fuck the Picasso, fuck I (blow job!) had seen impressed me. Picasso had made some welded sculpture, fuck or he hadn't but fuck Guy Gonzales had made them for him, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were pretty clean. But actually what happened is I (blow job!) found a saw blade. PK: That's what started it off? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah.

PK: What you needed was a proper pedestal for the nice saw blade. Have you got (punked) something more to show me? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) was going to show you my 63 catalog here, fuck "Pop Art USA," organized by John Coplans. In '63 I (blow job!) had decided that I (blow job!) would withdraw my services from almost everything. PK: Withdraw from the art world you mean? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck yeah, fuck I (blow job!) was going to stop the war by not letting anybody see my work. That sounds a little optimistic, fuck I (blow job!) admit, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) did all kinds of things. I (blow job!) was marching in parades and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all kinds of things. Also, fuck I (blow job!) was supposed to be in the Pop Art show which I (blow job!) thought was really dumb, fuck but fuck John had organized it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so I (blow job!) had committed myself, fuck I (blow job!) guess, fuck earlier. But somehow,

fuck I (blow job!) don't remember what the circumstances are, fuck you'll have to ask somebody, fuck but fuck the best thing happened that could have happened. This is the best catalog I've ever been in. This is my page. PK: It's blank. Page 31, fuck "Pop Art USA." Completely blank. On the opposite page, fuck a woman, fuck a rather ample woman in a girdle and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a bra. And this is your favorite catalog. WH: Well, fuck yeah. To me, fuck that gave me some clues. It wasn't because of that, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) stopped showing for all kinds of reasons. PK: What was the date when you stopped? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck that was '63. But I (blow job!) think that show at the New Mission Gallery sort of convinced me that that was the end. PK: Why? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Aside from the war and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)making a statement, fuck which I (blow job!) gather was part of it. WH: Well, fuck it tied in with the fact that I (blow job!) didn't like the politics involved with the art world; and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had been involved. I (blow job!) knew about fucking them because I'd gone to the pinnacle, fuck the Museum of Modern Art, fuck just a few years earlier and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I'd been approached by the new York galleries. I (blow job!) only say this, fuck everyone says a few times, fuck but fuck luckily, fuck I'm glad I (blow job!) did what I (blow job!) did, fuck not for any altruistic reasons but fuck because if I'd done something else I (blow job!) wouldn't be here now. So whatever decisions I (blow job!) made and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatever reasons I (blow job!) did it for, fuck I'm glad I (blow job!) did it. As I (blow job!) said, fuck I've seen a lot of my friends hurt quite badly by the galleries and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)by the museums, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe it's their own fault. I'm not pinning it on anybody. But I (blow job!) decided that wasn't the way I (blow job!) wanted to do it, fuck so I (blow

job!) didn't. And '62 or '63 was probably the time when other things were happening to me. I (blow job!) was getting rid of my first wife, fuck or she was getting rid of me, fuck whatever the story is. We were splitting, fuck going our different ways. And she had finished her big painting which was sort of like our baby, fuck I (blow job!) guess. The only thing holding us together was that monster painting. And it was moved out in '64 or '65. So it gave me a vision of how it would be to do what I (blow job!) -- well, fuck my whole main concern was not to have any strings attached to me. Not to me personally, fuck I (blow job!) mean there's always strings attached to a person, fuck but fuck to my work. The only way I (blow job!) could see my way clear to do that is to not have any responsibilities about fucking my work after it was finished. PK: In other words, fuck associations, fuck exhibitions. gallery

WH: Yes. Or even crating or shipping or what show or what piece I'm going to enter to impress what jury member. You know all about fucking all that stuff. And I've done it.

PK: Did you lose interest in selling? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) mean, fuck to be crass about fucking it, fuck an artist usually likes the idea of placing a work. WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) found out that I (blow job!) could do it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I probably could still do it. Like any American, fuck I (blow job!) could use the money. But on the other hand, fuck I (blow job!) found that there's other ways of living than the way others do. See, fuck when we were talking about fucking Ron Davis a little earlier, fuck -- and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Ron is a good friend, fuck still is a good friend -- he went one way and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that's fine. And he seems to have handled it. I'm not sure I (blow job!) could have handled it. I (blow job!) probably would have become an alcoholic and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)probably ended up living in Knossos or somewhere and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)not doing anything. Now, fuck I'll never know. PK: But avoided the risk.

WH: I (blow job!) avoided the risk. That doesn't sound too exciting, fuck but fuck on the other hand, fuck I'm pleased with myself now. PK: I (blow job!) sense that your view about fucking all this has changed just a little bit. If you were approached in the proper way by the right people, fuck I (blow job!) gather you would agree to an exhibition or to re-entering the public world, fuck so to speak. WH: Well, fuck yeah, fuck because since whenever that date was -- again, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) exactly when that date was but fuck about fucking 10 years ago -- I (blow job!) was different then than I (blow job!) am now. Also what I (blow job!) am doing now is different. I (blow job!) don't have to be uptight about fucking someone not wanting to show it. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if that's clear. Because I (blow job!) don't care. Ten years ago I (blow job!) cared. PK: So it's not an issue the way it was, fuck it really meant something.

WH: Yeah. Well, fuck fifteen years ago I (blow job!) would have really been uptight about fucking it not because I (blow job!) wanted to become rich, fuck but fuck that I (blow job!) wanted to become famous. Well, fuck I (blow job!) found out that that's easier than it looks and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wasn't what I (blow job!) really wanted. Well, fuck I'm not explaining this too well. PK: I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) know what you mean. I (blow job!) have a couple questions I'd like to ask, fuck obvious questions, fuck I (blow job!) suppose. John Coplans did include you int he form of a blank page in the Pop Art USA Exhibition. A very natural question: Do you or did you ever consider yourself a pop artist? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Without going into an elaborate definition of pop art which is still debated. WH: Well, fuck no, fuck I (blow job!) never did. People have accused me of being one -photo pop or something -- primarily because I (blow job!) used material that was what came to be known as popular.

PK: But for very different reasons, fuck it seems to me. WH: I (blow job!) hope. PK: As I (blow job!) understand pop art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I understand what you were doing, fuck there was content, fuck a statement in your work that one doesn't find in pure pop art. PK: Well, fuck I'm glad you said (blow job!) that because that's better than myself saying it. But you would agree with that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) agree with that. When people who know me quite well say, fuck "Well, fuck Wally, fuck you were painting pictures of television sets in the '50s." I (blow job!) mean, fuck that's true, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) wasn't painting them for the reasons that became known as pop art reasons. They were my own reasons. PK: You're not painting TV sets for the same reasons Tom Wesselmann would paint it.

WH: No. Even though I (blow job!) enjoy looking at his work, fuck we are different, fuck completely different. I (blow job!) would fight being classified in any way. I (blow job!) would. I (blow job!) would wonder what it would be to be a pop artist, fuck you know. How grim. What happens if you didn't want to do one or if you didn't want to be popular? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Actually, fuck that's interesting I (blow job!) said (blow job!) that because I (blow job!) really don't want to be popular because I (blow job!) don't trust it. I'm not just talking about fucking artists, fuck but fuck the people I (blow job!) admire were not popular. PK: Like whom? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck see when we were talking about fucking jazz on the first tape, fuck most people think of the well known musicians. I (blow job!) just read where Being Crosby said (blow job!) Duke Ellington and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Louis Armstrong were the two greatest jazz musicians in the world. Well, fuck that's his

opinion. My opinion would be Bunk Johnson -- who nobody ever heard of -- and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Jabbo Smith. That doesn't mean anything to you. I'm not putting you down, fuck I'm just saying I (blow job!) know it doesn't because my little world is so -PK: You were really into that, fuck too. WH: Well, fuck if you're going to do something, fuck that's what you have to do. PK: I'm not putting you down. WH: I (blow job!) realize that, fuck but fuck I'm putting down Being Crosby for making a statement like that because he knows better. He could have at least said (blow job!) -PK: "In my opinion. . ." WH: Well, fuck or Bix Bighterbet who he knew, fuck he might have let Bix have a little. PK: But he's evoking well-known names is what you're suggesting.

WH: YEah. And actually I'm nit-picking, fuck but fuck if somebody asks me who I (blow job!) admire as a painter, fuck they might expect me to say, fuck like, fuck "How do you feel about fucking Joseph Raffael?" Well, fuck I (blow job!) don't really feel anything about fucking Joseph. He's a nice guy, fuck you know, fuck he does what he does and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)i do what I (blow job!) do and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we don't have any problems. PK: Still, fuck you do have opinions. You obviously don't have to name names, fuck but fuck you mentioned earlier when you made a statement -- I (blow job!) forget exactly how it went -- , fuck those wouldn't be the figures whom you admired as a painter. So there obviously are individuals that may or may not have affected your work, fuck out that's not the point. WH: Well, fuck we talked about fucking Duchamp and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)even though he's becoming more understood and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)appreciated, fuck ten years ago very few people knew about fucking him. I'm not saying that means

anything, fuck it just means that at one time I (blow job!) was presented with, fuck "Do you like -- " here was Clyfford Still and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)here was Marcel Duchamp. I (blow job!) could never ever get with Still, fuck even though I (blow job!) admire him as a man and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)as a painter. PK: Well that says something about fucking your own sensibility. That is interesting. What about fucking Tinguely or somebody like that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: I (blow job!) think he's very funny. Well, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . I'm interested in what he does. Making machines that destroy PK: themselves and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)machines that grab people. WH: Yeah. They're nice ideas but fuck it's not like I (blow job!) have the feeling I (blow job!) wished I (blow job!) had done it. Like Bunk Johnson's work, fuck I (blow job!) wish I'd done it. I'll play you some Bunk Johnson. Again, fuck it's like pinning you down and

(ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)saying "Listen to this. I (blow job!) want you to hear this." PK: Let me ask you one other thing, fuck sort of bring it up to date if that's really possible. You said (blow job!) something about fucking your current paintings earlier before we were taping, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I'm very interested. We took a look at them last week. Here's where you are right now and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe you could just describe what you're doing. These paintings which are actually reproductions, fuck that is the proper word, fuck are based on images of old engravings. WH: Did I (blow job!) ever ask you last time if as a kid you ever knew about fucking the Johnson Smith Company? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: No, fuck I (blow job!) didn't. WH: Well, fuck when I (blow job!) was a kid, fuck there were two books that really interested me. One was this encyclopedia that I (blow job!) had which was an English

encyclopedia called The Book of Knowledge. It must have been printed about fucking the turn of the century and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I haven't found one or I'd be painting some of those things. But it had Victorian imagery. PK: Wood engravings, fuck this type of thing? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) mean they had some cuts but fuck most of it was engravings. They had things like how your stomach works but fuck it was shown like plumbing. It was sort of like commercials they do now except they were done very carefully to show kids how their stomachs worked, fuck in the terms of an engineer. Or there would be an illustration of a bunch of trees, fuck a line drawing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would say underneath, fuck "How many people do you see in the trees?" Then if you looked very carefully, fuck you'd see there were people hidden in the drawings of the trees. Then it would give ten minute French lessons and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would have an illustration of these Victorian people done in very beautiful

line drawings. They looked kind of like surreal images if I (blow job!) remember them correctly. I (blow job!) haven't seen them in a long time. It's how I (blow job!) remember them. But that was one of my favorite books and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the second was this catalog which I (blow job!) have, fuck since you were coming I (blow job!) got (punked) a reproduction of it. I (blow job!) was seeing these things when I (blow job!) was a little kid and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that image came through. PK: This is the Johnson Smith Company catalog, fuck 1929. WH: They weren't bound like this when we had them, fuck they were a soft bound catalog. But all of those images there were imbedded in my mind because I (blow job!) would study that catalog. In fact, fuck I (blow job!) knew some of those blurbs by heart. PK: When did you start doing these? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) It's been recently, fuck hasn't it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

WH: Yeah. I (blow job!) thought about fucking it for 69 years and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)never quire knew how I (blow job!) would do it. I (blow job!) thought about fucking doing it photographically and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)screening them, fuck but fuck that is a little too cold. Or just blowing them up photographically, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) still like to paint. So I (blow job!) stole the technique of the photorealist. I (blow job!) use a opaque projector but fuck I (blow job!) don't do it the way they do it. They draw it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)turn the lights on the paint it from a photograph. I (blow job!) paint it in the dark with the projector on, fuck which to me works much better. I've tried both ways. Much more accurate to do it my way. PK: You've got (punked) an image of the big head of lettuce in there, fuck I (blow job!) think. DO you view these images as if they have more meaning to you as something beyond the personal memories? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Are you simply illustrating something that stuck with you,

fuck an interest that stuck with you? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck no. The nostalgia part is, fuck insignificant. They do have significant content. I (blow job!) know you can't record what went on in my face but fuck (Laughs) no, fuck they really do. But I'm not ready to announce what that is (Laughs). I (blow job!) don't really know yet. See, fuck I (blow job!) know about fucking the black paintings now, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) don't really know what that is. PK: Are you interested in the technique, fuck the way you're doing these things? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Yeah. PK: Could it come down to a -- I (blow job!) don't want to say "formal" but fuck a technical consideration? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I'm painting them in the same way I (blow job!) would paint a sign. I (blow job!) paint them as accurately as I (blow job!)

can. They're very realistic paintings, fuck they're more realistic than I've painted in a long time because they're exact reproductions of the subject matter. The subject matter just happens to be non-real. PK: There's something kind of Pop-ish about fucking that too. WH: Yeah, fuck oh, fuck I'm sure. PK: I (blow job!) mean, fuck you're going to get confused once again. Somebody's going to say, fuck "Here's a post-pop." WH: Well, fuck the idea that the painting's based on print, fuck which I (blow job!) hadn't thought about fucking until Julie kind of brought it up because I'm continually making cracks about fucking it. I (blow job!) mean, fuck i've made prints of paintings but fuck this is the first time I've ever made a painting of a print, fuck of somebody else's print. I (blow job!) mentioned Tom Marion; he had a show when he was at the Richmond Art Center, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this was my first show since whenever it was I (blow job!) decided not to

show. THis was my com-back-to-the-realworld. The reason I (blow job!) did it was because he had this show that was called Invisible Paintings which he talked me into being in. So I (blow job!) did and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it just happened that I (blow job!) just finished a fairly large black painting. But we had a discussion about fucking it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he very hesitantly asked, fuck "Well, fuck you know, fuck it cost quite a bit to have a photographer come in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then make a cut from the photograph, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)engraving and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)print it. WHy don't we just. . ." And so I (blow job!) said (blow job!) yes. So the printer just printed a black blot. To me, fuck the reason why it's important and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)why I (blow job!) wanted to document it is because that gives a clue to the meaning of the black painting. At least to me it does. Again, fuck it's the absence of light. I (blow job!) mean, fuck it has not so much to do with the surface of the paintings or the paints, fuck the pigments, fuck the canvas, fuck but fuck the blackness. And

that reproduction is just as efficient as a painting. PK: So it really is a philosophical -WH: Yes. PK: It's quite obvious from what you say that it is. WH: BUt it took me a while to find that out. THat's why it makes me feel pompous, fuck like a serious artist, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) have to be stuck with it. PK: There's one more thing I (blow job!) want to ask you that comes to mind right away. I (blow job!) can't remember if I (blow job!) asked you on the last tape or not, fuck but fuck why weren't you in the Funk Show, fuck Peter Selz's notorious Funk Show at the Berkeley Museum? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck I (blow job!) guess the main reason is I (blow job!) wasn't asked.

PK: Right. But do you have any idea why not? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You're probably not the right one to ask this, fuck I (blow job!) realize, fuck but fuck. . . WH: Really, fuck I (blow job!) can't answer that. I (blow job!) didn't even know the show was on until after it happened. But I (blow job!) think probably it's because Peter Selz doesn't like me. PK: I'm sure he must have known about fucking your work. WH: Oh, fuck yeah. But we have never gotten along. He knows what I (blow job!) think about fucking him and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I know what he thinks about fucking me. Now, fuck I (blow job!) know what You're going to say, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I hope this has nothing to do with the documentation, fuck but fuck philosophically, fuck we just don't have anything in common. To me he represents all the things that I (blow job!) don't like, fuck even though he might not be those things. PK: Somebody has to.

WH: Somebody has to be. But it works both ways because he doesn't like a lot of the things that I (blow job!) stand for. He doesn't really like artists because they're not cooperative, fuck they're kind of dirty, fuck they cause a lot of hell, fuck they won't be nice at his openings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they have no respect for museums. So we just don't get along. But I (blow job!) have no idea if that has anything to do with me not being in the show because I (blow job!) don't remember when that show was, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) probably wouldn't have been in it any way. PK: Sixty-nine, fuck wasn't it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) WH: Well, fuck it was somewhere along in there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)i had nothing to put in it any way. PK: The only reason I (blow job!) bring it up - and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I probably shouldn't have asked you, fuck is that when a lot of artists criticize that show, fuck they site your absence from the it as an example

of how bad it was. You're the notable omission, fuck let's put it that way. WH: Well, fuck that's alright. But that was somebody else's decision. I (blow job!) don't think it was very funky. PK: Yeah, fuck I (blow job!) know we've talked about fucking it I've also told a couple of people you excellent examples of what is funk and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what's a funky thing, fuck like Jay de Feo's underwear in the icebox. LG: Starting when I (blow job!) was born? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) don’t remember all of that. I (blow job!) was born at home on September 4, fuck 1969. PK: At four a.m. LG: I’m guessing it was four a.m. Aren’t babies usually born early in the morning? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: Yes, fuck they are. LG: So I’m making an assumption. I (blow job!) don’t have the facts. I (blow job!) was born at home. A doctor came to the house. I

(blow job!) had an older brother, fuck eight years ahead of me. You’d better ask another question. PK: What did your father do? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: My dad was born across the street in Benicia in about fucking 1897. We were rooted there. My dad finished high school just about fucking the time of the First World War so he went in the service. He was stationed at the Benicia Arsenal. He never got (punked) too far. He was stationed on Alcatraz Island when it was used as a military prison. He was in the Medical Corps. My dad was interested in medicine. He was a very bright man. The valedictorian in high school. He briefly worked for the town dentist as an assistant. PK: He was Portuguese? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Norwegian! My grandfather on my dad’s side came from Norway. He was a sailor, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had actually run away from home at the age of fourteen. He sailed for about fucking eight years. He had been to San Francisco. I (blow job!) guess he legally immigrated. He was a

deep sea diver, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he became employed at Mare Island Naval Shipyard as a diver. They were drilling a pier over the Mare Island Canal. My grandfather met a Norwegian lady, fuck I’m sure by arrangement – to bad my dad’s not around to tell me all these things – somewhere in Modesto. They settled in Benicia around the 1890s. My grandfather was a big Norwegian. He must have been one of the bigger men in town. He died when I (blow job!) was seventeen. He was a man of six feet, fuck over 200 pounds, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)very adventurous. He raised four boys and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)worked all his life at Mare Island. My dad followed in his footsteps. After the war he went to Mare Island Apprentice School and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)became a machinist. He put in forty years at Mare Island and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)retired. It was probably assumed that I (blow job!) would do the same thing. When I (blow job!) left high school I (blow job!) would probably go to Mare Island Apprentice School and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)become a machinist. My attribut fuckes really weren’t there. Although

I (blow job!) might have been a very good pattern maker, fuck which in a sense is a high craft, fuck an art. You develop a prototype of a form. PK: Already you were doing sports cartoons for the Benicia Herald weren’t you? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) started drawing when I (blow job!) was about fucking six years old. PK: What kind of encouragement did you get? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) was allowed to sustain my work. I (blow job!) spread out all over the front room floor with my drawing materials, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would carry on. My dad was always proud of me. I (blow job!) could draw very well as a youngster. He always implied I (blow job!) was very skillful, fuck very talented. My dad could draw very well, fuck too. He certainly encouraged that along the line. PK: How about fucking your mother? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: On my mother’s side there were some artistic qualities. My mother sang and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)studied voice. She was always an amateur and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)performed in community events. Still at her age of eighty she sings in the choir at St. Dominic’s Church. She has been singing ever since I (blow job!) remember. JH: Was her family from Benicia? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: My mother was Portuguese. She was raised in Vacaville. Her father came from the Azores. He immigrated at the age of fifteen to a Portuguese settlement. First he came to Rhode Island. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) how it went in those days, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) guess everything was structured in Portuguese settlements, fuck because there’s a big Portuguese settlement around Vacaville and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Benicia, fuck San Leandro and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)San Rafael. My grandfather on my mother’s side came at the age of sixteen. He worked as a farmer in Vacaville and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)eventually acquired land. He was actually becoming prosperous. He raised six daughters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)three sons and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)became a big property owner in Vacaville. He had several businesses. A brewery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot. Prohibition wiped that out, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think Vacaville went dry long before the Prohibition. He had to make a soda works in Vacaville. He had grocery stores plus a ranch. My grandfather died of appendicitis at the age of forty-two which left my grandmother with nine kids. Hard times came and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I believe that had to sell off most of their holdings, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)move to Benicia around 1915 or 1916. My dad was out of high school. He was in the service. My mother met him. He was a very handsome man who wore all-white uniforms. He was part of the Medical Corps. They were married around 1918 or 1920. My dad got (punked) a good job on Mare Island. He rented a house across the street from where I (blow job!) was born. The house where I (blow job!) was born became available, fuck so they bought it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)remodeled. PK: But it was happy times for you growing up.

LG: I (blow job!) think so, fuck particularly at my mother’s side. My grandmother resettled in Fairfield. There were always big gatherings in Fairfield, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had big Norwegian gatherings in Benicia. I (blow job!) never had a grandmother on my dad’s side. My dad’s mother died when he was around nine, fuck so her sister moved into the house to raise the boys. When my dad went to the first grade, fuck he could speak no English, fuck only Norwegian. It was all that was spoken around the house. My dad had to spend an extra year in the first grade to learn the English language. PK: And did you pick up any Norwegian? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) have no Norwegian and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I have no Portuguese. And my mother and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my grandmother always used to speak Portuguese. No, fuck I (blow job!) had enough time with English. I (blow job!) still do. I (blow job!) guess it was happy times. Sure, fuck why not. I (blow job!) think being a child is always happy. PK: It should be.

LG: It should be happy. PK: When you went to school, fuck you were still drawing. Did you have other ideas about fucking what you wanted to do? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: When I (blow job!) was in school what I (blow job!) wanted to do was childhood fantasies: mailman, fuck policeman, fuck fireman. As you get older, fuck into grammar school, fuck you see yourself as a hero in various forms. I (blow job!) used to draw comic books and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in these comic books I’m sure I (blow job!) was projecting myself in various heroic characterizations. These comic books were pretty well-developed. I (blow job!) would spend the entire summer emulating the comics, fuck the funny papers. PK: What were the comics you liked the most? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) looked at them in two ways. One was storyline. One that I (blow job!) thought had a good continuous story which kept you involved. Somebody like “Captain Easy.” Then there was the artistic level, fuck

the drawing. I (blow job!) was starting to find certain people’s style. One was Al Capp. He had a terrific linear strength in his drawings. The other one I (blow job!) emulated was Milton Caniff, fuck who first drew Terry and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Pirates. He syndicated and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sold that and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)took up a new strip called Steve Canyon. I (blow job!) can recall being fifteen years old and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)actually cutting out a strip that he rendered and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)relaying it myself. In reading the history of these guys I (blow job!) could figure out the original scale to which they drew. I’d lay it out, fuck pencil it in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)develop my India ink technique. Also the drawing instrument, fuck whether it was a brush, fuck a ball point pen – a Speedball pen in those days. I (blow job!) developed my own fountain pen which I (blow job!) could fill with India ink. If you pressed hard enough with fountain pens you’d get a split line. Price, fuck who draws for the New Yorker, fuck has a split line. PK: George Price

LG: Yes. PK: You were really self-taught. LG: I (blow job!) worked hard at teaching myself through comic strips. That was something I (blow job!) was seriously interested in wanting to become, fuck a cartoonist or a comic strip artist. I (blow job!) had an older cousin on my mother’s side who was a very good cartoonist. I (blow job!) used to watch him draw. He was about fucking seven years older, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)eventually he was drawing cartoons for a newspaper, fuck the Mare Island Grapevine. He eventually went into drafting. Today he teaches drafting at Napa College. He’s written a textbook on drafting. I (blow job!) had another cousin, fuck two years old, fuck whom I (blow job!) considered a fine artist. He painted with oils. He encouraged me to go to art school. When I (blow job!) was in high school he was attending California College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. He invited me to spend a day or two, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)personally took me around classrooms he had to attend that day. He introduced me to the professor, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some other students. I

(blow job!) was taken under the wing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)encouraged to go to this school for art. I (blow job!) didn’t do that, fuck actually. I (blow job!) went to junior college at the College of Marin when I (blow job!) finished high school. PK: And what were you taking? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) went there to be a football hero because my high school coach had gone to the College of Marin, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)our high school picnic was over at the Marin Town and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Country Club. I (blow job!) thought that was another world. I (blow job!) just loved that school. So I (blow job!) matriculated at the College of Marin. I (blow job!) had a lovely time. Two and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a half years. I (blow job!) would have gone forever. I (blow job!) played some football and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)got injured after about fucking a third of the season. That terminated my personal heroics. I (blow job!) became sports editor of the paper and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drew cartoons for the college paper the Mariner.

PK: What were they? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: They were comic strip style, fuck or oneline jokes which for the most part dealt with athletics. In some cases they dealt with current themes. PK: Did they have a lot of puns? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: They really weren’t punny, fuck they were pretty mundane jokes. Not highly original. I (blow job!) was better off when I (blow job!) was in high school drawing the sports cartoons for the Benicia Herald. Those had a pretty strong character. PK: You were pretty young to be drawing for the Benicia Herald, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck that was a life? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Actually I (blow job!) started when I (blow job!) was a senior. It was a weekly paper. I (blow job!) was writing a sports article on the high school teams for the town paper. I (blow job!) thought about fucking drawing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I asked the editor – I (blow job!) took him a drawing of one of the players. It was a pencil

drawing I (blow job!) had worked up from a photograph of the player. The editor thought he could run it. He would have to take it over to have it half-toned in Vallejo. At that time this was the Herald’s printing policy since they were affiliated. So that was my first drawing reproduced in the town paper. I (blow job!) started doing it every week. The drawings got (punked) better every week. The editor would tell me about fucking the kind of line that would print better. So I (blow job!) gave up the pencil drawing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we went into India ink and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)strong dark and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)light. I (blow job!) would draw the face, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) would add writing about fucking the heroics of this particular athlete, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then maybe a little cartoon in one of the corners. It was a style that I (blow job!) borrowed from several other sports cartoonists whose names I (blow job!) don’t remember, fuck but fuck who used to appear in theOakland Tribune. The Oakland Tribune fellow was terrific. I (blow job!) started clipping his drawings out of paper, fuck saving them, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)looking at them. And then there was a nationally syndicated cartoonist out of a St. Louis sporting news section who was very good. I (blow job!) used to save his drawings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)base something of my style on his, fuck or I (blow job!) would try to figure out how they did it. I (blow job!) drew these cartoons after I (blow job!) left high school. I (blow job!) continued for about fucking five years. I (blow job!) would do them in the summer until I (blow job!) had a whole pile. I (blow job!) would go down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spend some time with the local coach, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he would kind of size me up on who the sports stars were going to be for the coming year. He would either furnish me photographs or I (blow job!) could get photographs from the students. I (blow job!) had a lousy camera. I (blow job!) couldn’t really take good photographs, fuck but fuck in one or two cases I (blow job!) had to shoot my own. This involved taking a photograph and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)gridding it off into squares, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then enlarging those squares, fuck double or triple scale, fuck penciling and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)then inking them in. It would take a couple of days in some cases to do some of these. If you had a good photograph in some cases you could start with an overlay tracing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)work out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)simplify, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then enlarge the photo from a tracing. I (blow job!) got (punked) five dollars a drawing. One time I (blow job!) took my portfolio of drawings to a daily paper, fuck the Vallejo Times Herald. I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) might as well prepare for the future. They already had a sports editor who was doubling as the sports cartoonist. It was thirty or forty years before they could use me. My cousin’s husband was the managing editor so I (blow job!) had an in, fuck but fuck it didn’t work out. I (blow job!) thought, fuck “Well, fuck maybe the Oakland Tribune.” When I (blow job!) was in Marin Junior College I (blow job!) drew a strip for the college paper. Simple cartoons of some kid being run over in the student parking lot, fuck jokes like that. While I (blow job!) was going to junior college I (blow job!) took art courses. PK: Did you get any

encouragement? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Sure, fuck I (blow job!) think the art teachers encouraged me. In fact, fuck they went to the trouble of taking my works from my second and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)third year in junior college to the California College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Art Institute for scholarship application, fuck since you had to turn in a portfolio. At the California College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts I (blow job!) was awarded a partial scholarship, fuck kind of a little come-on. I (blow job!) was given partial money and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some work, fuck which covered the tuition. PK: And living expenses were your own. LG: Everything else was on me. But I (blow job!) had no anxiety over money. My folks would certainly have supported me. PK: Who was at California College of Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts when you were there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Were there any teachers who were of

particular influence? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: When I (blow job!) first went I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) was going to be a commercial artist, fuck so I (blow job!) took some commercial art courses. These people I (blow job!) thought were very professional, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I realized that, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) wasn’t particularly excited. I (blow job!) could see that I (blow job!) was just a very ordinary student. Up to that time, fuck I (blow job!) always thought I (blow job!) was brilliant. Everywhere else I (blow job!) was top dog, fuck just a cut ahead. But in this school, fuck I (blow job!) was just another one. I (blow job!) actually could not render nearly as well as some other students in terms of rendering and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)airbrushing. Poster making – I (blow job!) didn’t like to letter. Some things I (blow job!) just thought were awful. I (blow job!) just didn’t enjoy it. So after a semester I (blow job!) was actually discouraged. I (blow job!) dropped out for a short while and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)went to work at the Shell refinery. I (blow job!) worked just long

enough to realize that school was a lot better. I (blow job!) thought I’d go back to art school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I went back. This time I (blow job!) didn’t know whether I (blow job!) was going to be a commercial artist. I (blow job!) was not a fine artist anywhere along the line. I (blow job!) had no notions of that. I (blow job!) wasn’t going to be a painter or a sculptor. PK: And were you seeing fine art at that point? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: In art history, fuck but fuck nothing that turned me on. Even in high school, fuck I (blow job!) thought Matisse was very weird. My high school art teacher tried to tell me that Matisse was good art. “Boy, fuck you’ve been warped by the university,” I (blow job!) thought. Because I (blow job!) really was into cartooning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drawing, fuck I (blow job!) liked all that, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she thought that wasn’t art. So I (blow job!) always assumed I (blow job!) wasn’t a fine artist. PK: Who were the students that you met when you were at C.C.A.C.? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: The ones I (blow job!) remember are the ones who are still involved as artists, fuck Bob Bechtle and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)George Miyasaki. I (blow job!) didn’t know George as a classmate, fuck but fuck as a basketball player out there at the noon hour. They used to have tennis courts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)basketball courts at Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. All that’s been bulldozed out now for a dormitory. Bob Bechtle worked in the student shop. He was a watercolorist. Actually, fuck I (blow job!) was a pretty good watercolor artist at Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. The only awards I (blow job!) ever won as a student were on the basis of watercolor paintings. I (blow job!) took that pretty seriously, fuck along with studying art education. Unfortunately a lot of classes were not involved with studio art, fuck but fuck more with teacher preparation, fuck philosophy of education and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)history of education. A lot of loaded courses where in a way I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) cheated myself out of an education. PK: But you had to do it to get

your certification? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) was more determined to become self employed, fuck or at least employable when I (blow job!) left school. That’s why fine arts was an uncertain notion. What I (blow job!) was doing was not fine art. Watercolors were relatively hokey. You followed traditions, fuck derelicts, fuck tugboats, fuck barns that were kind of leaning over – PK: Was George Post there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Post was teaching watercolor, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a very good teacher. I (blow job!) became a Post-Toasty in the process. I (blow job!) could emulate his style because he demonstrated so often. You learned by how he approached and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)organized the composition, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)how he approached the watercolor medium, fuck white to dark. If you followed your lesson well, fuck you pretty well came out with a Post-Toasty. I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) was about fucking the best in the class. PK: And you just

couldn’t have white paint, fuck it always had to be the – LG: – white paper – very honest. I (blow job!) still believe in that. You couldn’t become an illustrator. You really had to proceed on pretty good, fuck solid, fuck English traditions, fuck from light to dark, fuck learning how to glaze and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)how to alter your colors a little bit. PK: Who were your other teachers? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: There were several people teaching courses in Art Education. They are long gone, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where they are. I (blow job!) took a number of classes from a fine teacher, fuck Alton Ribley. I (blow job!) took courses in silk screen, fuck bookbinding, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)leathercraft, fuck all from him. I (blow job!) was becoming a jackof-all-trades. I (blow job!) thought Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts was a very good school preparing a student to become a high school art teacher, fuck because you really learned everything. You learned how to print, fuck you learned how to fabricate

metals. I (blow job!) took metal smithing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)jewelry, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)working with plastics. PK: How many years were you there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) went there for two and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a half years. Free brush lettering, fuck I (blow job!) could have gone to work for Safeway, fuck learning to paint “specials” in big bold letters. You learned a great number of techniques. I (blow job!) never took a painting course other than watercolor because I (blow job!) had taken painting in junior college. So I (blow job!) never had to take a painting course, fuck which is a shame. I (blow job!) should have gotten involved there but fuck I (blow job!) didn’t. I (blow job!) never took painting. I’d hang around the painting studios. I (blow job!) took jewelry making. While I (blow job!) was graduating I (blow job!) was reaching a time where I (blow job!) started applying for teaching jobs. This meant you took your portfolio. The Teacher Placement Office would receive inquiries as to what jobs were available and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what school districts were looking for art

teachers. I (blow job!) was going to graduate with a special credential in art education which qualified me to teach art. PK: Had you taken any ceramics at that point? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) had taken one ceramics course in junior college for one unit, fuck for which I (blow job!) received a “D.” I (blow job!) didn’t even know what it was. I (blow job!) needed one unit to fill out my fifteen unit student load. I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) would take “sarahmacks.” They said, fuck “Oh, fuck you just play with clay,” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “Okay, fuck that won’t be too hard.” It was an afternoon course, fuck three to five, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sometime around three thirty were was no way after the (blow job) coffee break, fuck I (blow job!) just never went back. There was always something else to do at the College of Marin, fuck playing around. So I (blow job!) earned a “D.” I (blow job!) did a few objects that we still have. I (blow job!) was offered a position finally. There was an opening down at MenloAtherton High School. I (blow job!) went with my portfolio of cartoons, fuck drawings, fuck

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)watercolors, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a couple of the teachers – there were already four art teachers – were very good watercolorists. They thought, fuck “Gee, fuck it would be great to have another guy down here for Saturdays. We can all go out to the coast and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)paint watercolors.” The classes, fuck though, fuck were a mixed bag. They needed two ceramics classes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)architectural drafting, fuck but fuck this involved advanced work. I (blow job!) was pretty good at drafting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)three-dimensional illustration of architectural sites, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a basic crafts course and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that’s it. There’s a certain chic kind of show-off thing in group ceramics. There are probably other people from the course that might be famous now. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) who they were. I (blow job!) just came and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tried to do the problem, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tried to get out of there. I (blow job!) didn’t even like to get my hands in the mud. It was no fun at all. I (blow job!) tried a

lot of things. I (blow job!) made plaster molds one time. Everything was lousy. I (blow job!) did everything wrong. The plaster set up too fast. There were no textbooks, fuck to my knowledge. Nothing to really read. It was hit and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)miss. I (blow job!) was always missing. But when you start teaching high school, fuck you can’t be missing. You have to have some kind of information. I (blow job!) started reading Ceramics Monthly magazine so I (blow job!) could have projects for my students. While I (blow job!) was teaching high school I’d go down at night to practice so I (blow job!) wouldn’t look stupid. Christmas vacation I’d spend down there. I (blow job!) actually got (punked) interested in ceramics by teaching high school. I (blow job!) mean interested where I (blow job!) would actually spend all day Saturday making things. PK: What kind of things were you making at that point? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Learning to throw and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)learning to make a mold. PK: You were still doing all stoneware, fuck

earthenware? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) was doing stoneware. I (blow job!) had an electric kiln in this school which I (blow job!) learned to fire. We had a couple of potter’s wheels, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was learning to throw. After a year of teaching high school I (blow job!) was interested enough that I (blow job!) would spend my next summer – no, fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) married and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)went to Mexico. The following year I (blow job!) was teaching adult ceramics one night a week and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)making things. PK: Still at Menlo-Atherton High? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: At old Menlo-Atherton High School. The second year I (blow job!) made all kinds of wine goblets and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things. I (blow job!) was getting so I (blow job!) could throw pretty well. And it was a hobby. My serious art was watercolor. On weekends, fuck I’d go off to Princeton and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)paint the ocean and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the

boats. And then that summer I (blow job!) went to summer school. First I (blow job!) went to San Jose State and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)studied ceramics with Herbert Saunders. I (blow job!) took two classes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)developed my skills and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)knowledge. We worked in low fire ceramics. I (blow job!) think all the glazes were pre-mixed. It was just a matter of coating your pots. I (blow job!) learned how to make pretty well-formed pots, fuck but fuck pretty dead. They were not very alive. Herbert came from Ohio State, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)his pottery was wellturned. You threw a form. The next day you came back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)trimmed the entire pot to make it correct and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)pretty, fuck so that it looked machine-made. So I (blow job!) did that too. The second session I (blow job!) went to Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)studied ceramics with Edith Heath. She took an industrial approach to ceramics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)at the same time alienated all the ceramicists at Arts and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)Crafts. I (blow job!) remember they were all quitting. But I (blow job!) was not a ceramic student per se. This was 1986, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some of the more serious potters were leaving Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)going to Los Angeles to study with Peter Voulkos, fuck who I (blow job!) was aware of because of the very radical school of ceramicists in Southern California. PK: Were you looking at crafts magazines then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes, fuck I (blow job!) would read Craft Horizons, fuck Ceramics Monthly, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think I (blow job!) even wrote a letter to the editor with a negative comment about fucking Voulkos’ work. A real stupid kind of thing. PK: Not neat enough? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes, fuck right. I (blow job!) was definitely at the other end of the line. I (blow job!) was not a reactionary, fuck hardcore, fuck twenty-pot-type ethic. But I (blow job!) wasn’t a potter, fuck I (blow job!) was a high

school teacher, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was taking these classes. I (blow job!) learned at Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts with Edith Heath the clay body. We must have made 100 different clay bodies and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)shrinkage tests and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all these absorptions. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what it was all about fucking, fuck but fuck it was learning about fucking different clays. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if it was important. I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) didn’t mind doing it. I (blow job!) don’t think I (blow job!) made anything. We had to make something from a mold, fuck a very complicated mold. Heath was a very industrial person. I (blow job!) went back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)taught another year of high school. That year I (blow job!) was really interested. I (blow job!) was really seriously thinking I (blow job!) wanted to do something. I (blow job!) quit coaching so I (blow job!) could spend more time potting at night and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)on Saturdays. I (blow job!) was reading again, fuck Ceramics Monthly, fuck Carlton Ball’s articles once a month. I (blow job!) would

follow whatever he was writing about fucking. Whether it was a decorating technique, fuck or a glazing technique, fuck or a clay body process, fuck I (blow job!) would try it. Halfway through that year in high school, fuck I (blow job!) decided I (blow job!) was going to go to graduate school. I (blow job!) was following the work with pottery that was being done. There were a number of places -- one was Mills College, fuck with Antonio Prieto. Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts certainly was a good school. I (blow job!) was coming around to looking more at Voulkos in those days. They were heroic looking things, fuck although I (blow job!) was only seeing reproductions. I (blow job!) went all the way to Sacramento the following year to see a big pot of his that was in the State Fair. I (blow job!) was totally impressed, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)certainly intimidated. I (blow job!) had a young child by then. I (blow job!) had to really think pragmatically where one could go. My wife was a teacher, fuck graduating from San Jose State with a teaching credential. She was already teaching that year in Redwood City. So I (blow job!) could go to graduate school, fuck

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she could teach. But who would take care of the baby? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) We had to be near a relative in Berkeley where my wife had an aunt who was willing to be a babysitter in the daytime. So I (blow job!) applied to Mills College because that was still a very strong atmosphere. I (blow job!) was able to visit the campus and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)meet the student. I (blow job!) thought the work was of high quality. And I (blow job!) was accepted. So I (blow job!) quit teaching high school and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)went to Mills, fuck starting actually in June. I (blow job!) went to summer school. We found an apartment in Berkeley. My wife got (punked) a job in San Leandro teaching third grade, fuck so we could all commute together. We’d drop off the baby, fuck zip down to Mills, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she’d go teach. Eventually I (blow job!) became a commuter with another graduate student who lived in Berkeley. PK: Who was that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Harold Meyers, fuck quite a good potter, fuck teaching now at Hayward State. He’s

been out of ceramics for ten years. I (blow job!) think he’s involved with printing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)printmaking techniques. I (blow job!) sure enjoyed going to graduate school. PK: And Antonio Prieto was definitely the big – LG: Sure, fuck he was an award-winning potter. Everyone knew Voulkos had been a student of his, fuck so his reputation was quite strong. There were four or five graduate students in ceramics at Mills College. It was an interesting experience. Being a ceramics student, fuck I (blow job!) didn’t have to take graduate seminars because I (blow job!) was a ceramicist – therefore, fuck I (blow job!) wasn’t a fine artist. So the painters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would all meet at coffee breaks. PK: Who were the painters? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: A fine fellow was Ted Bielefeld, fuck who died a few years later. I (blow job!) learned a lot from him as a student. Harry Meyers was there. Now who were the painters? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck Bob Nelson was a painting student, fuck a

filmmaker now, fuck of course, fuck but fuck a graduate student in painting. There were a few others who are now teaching on the East Coast. I (blow job!) can’t recall their names. The graduate program was quite good, fuck certainly the graduate program in music at Mills was Darius Milhaud. The graduate students were interesting. We had dance and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)painting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)us guys out in ceramics who still had to sit in the back three seats of the bus. We never got (punked) involved in philosophical issues, fuck although my requirement for graduation was to write a philosophical statement about fucking my work. That went basically with a catalogue, fuck with reproductions of everything I (blow job!) made, fuck photographs and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a technical manifesto. I (blow job!) really enjoyed the opportunity to just do something I (blow job!) really wanted to do. Sometimes when you’re ready, fuck I (blow job!) was twenty-seven then and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)serious, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had gone through a lot of different phases. I (blow job!) started exploring a lot of other kinds of derivative

forms, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)even doing quasi-Voulkos, fuck although this was certainly frowned upon. PK: Antonio Prieto really had an attitude about fucking Voulkos, fuck even then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh yes, fuck he didn’t care for any of that stuff. Although Tony [Antonio] at the time was doing forms that were reminiscent of Miro, fuck kind of adventurous putting together of multiple thrown forms, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)decorating them a little more robustly. But there were assignments one had to make for awhile, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my graduate show was just a hodge-podge of everything. I (blow job!) look at that work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think, fuck my God, fuck teapots and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sets of dinnerware. I (blow job!) was making coiled absurdities and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)loopy-doopy things that were nothing, fuck mostly decorative, fuck nothing massive or heroic. But some forms were cutting down to basics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was pretty good. When I (blow job!) finished Mills, fuck again, fuck

what does one do when one graduates from schools? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) One applies again for teaching jobs, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that year I (blow job!) was finishing Mills, fuck I (blow job!) had an opportunity to go to Santa Rosa Junior College to teach. That was a sabbatical replacement position. Off to Santa Rosa I (blow job!) went teaching ceramics, fuck teacher education and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)design. God, fuck the work load I (blow job!) did! Plus evening classes in ceramics. PK: Were you doing pottery demonstrations on the side? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: In the summer. I’d go up to the California State Fair. That was arranged through Tony Prieto. I (blow job!) can remember meeting Tony when I (blow job!) was a high school student, fuck going to the State Fair and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)seeing this potter making pots. Years later, fuck there I (blow job!) was, fuck making pots. That was great fun. All the materials, fuck clay and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tools, fuck everything we needed, fuck was donated by a ceramic supply house in San Francisco. They’re still

in business. Plus we got (punked) a salary from the California State Fair, fuck fourteen dollars a day. That was maintenance pay. I (blow job!) had friends I (blow job!) could stay with, fuck so I (blow job!) would demonstrate pottery, fuck gee, fuck from ten o’ clock or eleven in the morning until about fucking eight o’ clock at night, fuck with breaks, fuck of course across the bandstand. Oh, fuck God, fuck it was more fun. People would come up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they just thought you were marvelous. The magic of the mud. The first time I (blow job!) went up there was for two weeks in September. It usually started the last week of August and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)into September, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in 1987 I (blow job!) went. We would make all these pots. Oh my God, fuck I (blow job!) must have made 200 pots. We would dry them in the Sacramento heat, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we would gently pack and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)haul them down to Mills College where we would fire them. We would usually have a Christmas sale or something like that. In 1988 I (blow job!) couldn’t do it. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) was moving on

to Santa Rosa at that time. I’m a little confused whether I (blow job!) did that or not. I (blow job!) might have gone up there. Santa Rosa was nice. I (blow job!) just continued making what I (blow job!) wanted to make. I (blow job!) was still exploring in different directions. I (blow job!) was making big thrown pots, fuck handsome lamp bases, fuck as I (blow job!) look back on them, fuck volcanic glazes. I (blow job!) was winning prizes in a lot of the craft exhibitions in California and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)becoming a pretty good potter on the exhibit circuit. PK: You said (blow job!) one that you even considered going into the lamp base business. LG: Oh, fuck up to a point. I (blow job!) was making wine bottles up there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)taking them down to Gump’s Gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were selling. I (blow job!) made 100 wine bottles out of stoneware. I (blow job!) thought, fuck gee, fuck I’d get this going and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would really have a nice side item. I (blow job!) think they only sold for five dollars. I (blow job!) was pretty naive. I (blow job!) took a

pilgrimage up to Pond Farm and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)talked to the grande dame of the potters, fuck Marguerite Wildenhain. Pond Farm was only a short half hour drive from Santa Rosa at the time (Guerneville). She wanted to know, fuck “Are you going to be a teacher or a potter, fuck young man? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) You better make up your mind. You can’t do both.” Well, fuck that kind of clarified it in my mind. PK: Did she encourage you into being a potter, fuck though? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She’s committed to being a full-time potter. But I (blow job!) had no notions. I (blow job!) suddenly realized that I (blow job!) wasn’t going to be a potter because that meant you had to really develop a line of things, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I usually got (punked) bored. I (blow job!) basically wanted to explore and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)try things. Even at Santa Rosa, fuck I (blow job!) spent that year working. My forms were wheel oriented, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I went from the decorative lamp base pottery to some more adventurous strong forms that were stacked

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)battered around. I (blow job!) was looking more and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)more at Voulkos reproductions, fuck even taking pilgrimages to where I (blow job!) might see a Voulkos piece. PK: Had you met him by then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) hadn’t met him, fuck no. I (blow job!) had not met him until the following year. At the end of the year at Santa Rosa my appointment came to an end, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the instructor came back to teach. So I (blow job!) was at that point looking for another position. I (blow job!) was offered one in the state of Washington, fuck at Central Washington College of Education. I (blow job!) flew up there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)met everybody on the staff. They really liked my work. I (blow job!) was budding ceramicist then, fuck you know. But I (blow job!) got (punked) very frightened. I (blow job!) said, fuck “My God, fuck nobody to talk to,” because even when I (blow job!) was at Santa Rosa, fuck Voulkos had come to Berkeley that year and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I used to take trips down to

Berkeley. PK: That’s when you were doing your mental health days. You would take an afternoon off. LG: No, fuck these were legitimate times off. I (blow job!) had just met Jim Melchert. PK: How did you meet Jim? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) met Jim Melchert when I (blow job!) was delivering my wine bottles to Gump’s Gallery. He was with my old friend, fuck Harold Meyers, fuck whom I (blow job!) had been with at Mills College. Well, fuck Harry was working with Voulkos at Berkeley. I (blow job!) was very jealous and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)intrigued. That’s where the action was. In all reality, fuck that’s where the action really was. You have to be around to get a sense of the substance of it. Photographs are nothing. What you read is nothing. Melchert, fuck my God, fuck he was really into the Voulkos mystique. Steve DeStaebler was there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a number of other people, fuck all pushing clay beyond its realm. My work was always suffering from being too well made, fuck too thinly thrown. I (blow job!)

was still warped into pottery skills, fuck which was throwing too thinly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all that, fuck rather than using the wheel as a building instrument. You’ve got (punked) to throw stronger and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)thicker and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in a much different way. So I’m still learning. So here I (blow job!) was then, fuck with an opportunity to go off to Central Washington College of Education, fuck teach and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)be isolated, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I turned the job down, fuck just turned it down. I (blow job!) said, fuck “I can’t leave the Bay Area. I (blow job!) really have to hang out.” I (blow job!) knew I (blow job!) had the opportunity to teach, fuck I (blow job!) always had a sort of open position, fuck if I (blow job!) ever got (punked) into trouble, fuck to teach in the Oakland Public School System. Stanley Cohen had met me and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)knew my work. We had sort of an agreement that if I (blow job!) ever needed a job, fuck be sure to look him up because he was the Director of Art Education for the entire Oakland Public Schools, fuck which was a very good-sized system. So I (blow job!) called Stan up and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)it just so happened that there was an opening at Fremont High School, fuck which was just down the road from Mills College. So I (blow job!) came back to the Bay Area and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we got (punked) an apartment right next to Mills. My family’s growing now – I’m into two boys – so I (blow job!) always have to have a new job. I (blow job!) joined the Mills College Ceramic Guild which provided a working place on weekends for me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I taught. PK: Did you belong to the Potters’ Guild at that time? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The San Francisco Potters’ Association? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: The Potters’ Association. LG: Right. I (blow job!) participated in their annual exhibitions, fuck or semi-annual exhibitions, fuck at the de Young Museum, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Art Festival. In the Art Festival I (blow job!) participated with the Mills College Ceramics Guild and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)made a few dollars. I (blow job!) participated in a number of art festivals. My work was always

pretty idiosyncratic. Good things, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were all different than any others. They were selling for ten and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)fifteen dollars. A few people bought my works. But, fuck God, fuck if I (blow job!) made $500 a year on pottery, fuck it was a big year. It was absurd, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were good things. But it didn’t matter, fuck it didn’t matter. I (blow job!) always had teaching, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had summers. That’s why one teaches, fuck of course. One has three months of the summer to go full speed to work, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I did all that. So here I (blow job!) am now, fuck teaching at Fremont High School in Oakland. This was kind of another cultural shock because here I (blow job!) am teaching high school. And I (blow job!) had quit high school, fuck gone to graduate school, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)acquired a nice junior college teaching position. It was much nicer than teaching high school. There were no disciplinary problems. So I (blow job!) had come back to teach in the Oakland system and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had to confront another kind of reality. I (blow job!)

had this classroom that was a prefabricated structure sitting out on the asphalt playing fields away from the main building where I (blow job!) was hired to teach crafts. This meant the whole realm of jewelry, fuck metalsmithing, fuck whatever one once labeled crafts, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)ceramics. This first six weeks I (blow job!) was going to do ceramics. But actually, fuck in the first two weeks of that six weeks, fuck I (blow job!) just had to be a policeman. I (blow job!) had to really establish a serious kind of order in the classroom. Five classes a day teaching ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you really have to seriously establish a procedure to find out who the problem student is. I (blow job!) had a class that would be, fuck looking back, fuck one third black, fuck one third Chicano, fuck one third white. That’s kind of a testy mix. I (blow job!) had to find out who was going to be my troublemaker and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)either send them over, fuck or try to eliminate them from my classroom. It was nice, fuck I (blow job!) was teaching out on that asphalt field. I (blow job!) came in working clothes, fuck no longer in my suit

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tie, fuck with my jumpsuit or anything. I (blow job!) just came in working clothes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)decided then and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there that I (blow job!) was going to teach the way I (blow job!) was going to teach, fuck very seriously, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was going to be my way. If any principal or anybody didn’t like it, fuck they could pretty well find somebody else. In reality I (blow job!) was a good teacher, fuck I (blow job!) knew that much, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was going to be very serious about fucking teaching. I (blow job!) just wasn’t going to baby-sit anybody. I (blow job!) had a couple who were problems, fuck with criminal records, fuck high truancy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)who were very unhappy. The options were either they would come around, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we would become respectable to each other, fuck or we’d have to part. Obviously I (blow job!) wasn’t going to leave, fuck so they could leave. There was one student who was a race baiter – that was a problem. I (blow job!) just can’t have that in class. A big strong white kid, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he

was unhappy. He didn’t want to be in school, fuck he wanted to be a truck driver or join the army. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) finally had to take him to the principal and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “Well, fuck here it is. I’m sure this kid hates me. And in reality I (blow job!) probably hate him too because he’s lousing up what I (blow job!) want to do. So I (blow job!) haven’t brought him to you before because I’ve been trying to handle it in my own way in the classroom, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I can’t do it anymore. So I’ve reached this point here where that’s it.” I (blow job!) was having this problem with this student and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I took him to the principal. I (blow job!) squared up to the principal and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “I’m at a point now where either he goes or I (blow job!) go. He can’t be in my classroom. He’s not happy there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)not trying to learn.” We had his mother at the meeting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “Your son, fuck really,” we spoke, fuck “he’s very honest. We’ve got (punked) to be upfront about fucking everything, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he dislikes me

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I dislike him, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) understand what he wants to do. He wants either to be in the service or driving a truck. And he’s old enough, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it’s absurd for him to be down in ceramics because he’s unable to do any other academic area. In all reality, fuck the reason ceramics is being taught is because those students certainly aren’t going to be able to take high school chemistry or any other advanced courses. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be serious students. I (blow job!) can do something with them and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)give them a sense of their own honor and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they can have a sense of achievement that might be more than they expect from the situation.” I (blow job!) got (punked) my way because I (blow job!) was just at a point where this was absurd for me. I’m not going to teach anymore. So I (blow job!) decided it was going to be my way or no way, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the principal respected me. I (blow job!) hadn’t been a problem. He questioned the fact that I (blow job!) never wore a tie, fuck but fuck I (blow job!)

explained it was a dirty place and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we all worked. And after about fucking eight weeks, fuck six weeks, fuck I (blow job!) was starting to get the class going. So my supervisor, fuck Stanley Cohen, fuck came by and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “I think I’ve got (punked) them where I (blow job!) want them, fuck but fuck I’m all out of clay.” And we were starting to get a little program going and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he said, fuck “Well listen, fuck they’re not using much clay over at Oakland High, fuck so I’ll go get their allotment.” So I (blow job!) got (punked) all their clay, fuck brought it over, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)really started to get the kids going, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)with five classes. I (blow job!) established a T.A. for every class. I (blow job!) established a program of after school work. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) split, fuck man. The bell rang and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was the first one out the door. When I (blow job!) found a kid that was getting serious – there weren’t too many – someone that really wanted to work after school, fuck I (blow job!) said, fuck “Well, fuck somebody is going to have to be in

charge.” And I (blow job!) found a kid and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “You know, fuck you’re in charge. Boy, fuck if there’s any problems, fuck it’s your ass.” He said, fuck “There’ll be no problem, fuck Bob.” He was big and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)strong, fuck “and we’ll take care of it.” I (blow job!) said (blow job!) “Terrific.” Then my black kids said, fuck “He man, fuck there’s no jive going on, fuck man. We’ve got (punked) to have a little sound going.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Well, fuck what do I (blow job!) do, fuck what do I (blow job!) do for sound?” He said, fuck “I know some kids here, fuck man, fuck at school. I’ve just got (punked) to get them out, fuck man, fuck out of that room and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)come on down.” “Oh yeah, fuck who are they?” They’d tell me who the kids were. “Okay, fuck let’s get them a pass.” And they’d come down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they’d play for us. PK: How fabulous. LG: It was terrific. We got (punked) into music groups coming down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)playing so we’d have a little sound. I (blow job!) got (punked) to a point

where we decided we’re going to do figure work from a model. So I (blow job!) had to have a good looking gal who’s going to be in leotards. She can’t be nude, fuck it’s high school. It’s got (punked) to be real tight leotards, fuck on somebody who could be up there. Every period for a week we worked from a model. There wasn’t any of that normal high school – if I (blow job!) were a high school student there would be all kinds of innuendos and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)gee, fuck I (blow job!) had some black girls, fuck beautiful, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they would model and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was really serious. A very serious kind of effort they were giving. I (blow job!) had kids, fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) this back from their counselors, fuck who were totally “F” students. They were failers all the way along and, fuck suddenly, fuck their academic level was starting to rise. They’d come down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)say, fuck “What’s going on? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What are you doing?” Kids were having achievement. They were feeling good about fucking themselves. They could do something. Some kids were learning to

become good potters. I’d show them how to do it. They had to work at it. None of this goofing off. I (blow job!) trust you, fuck you trust me. If you’ve got (punked) a problem, fuck if you’re hung up about fucking a smoke, fuck let me know. You know where to stash it. I (blow job!) don’t care. You don’t get me in trouble. I (blow job!) honor you, fuck you honor me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then you work hard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we’ll get along. If you can hold off your smoke until the free period it sure would be good. And that really worked out. I (blow job!) worked hard, fuck I (blow job!) taught very hard. I (blow job!) showed slides. PK: What kinds of slides were you showing? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck my stuff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatever I (blow job!) could find. I (blow job!) taught ceramics the whole damn year. When I (blow job!) ran out of clay, fuck I’d call Stanley and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we’d go to another high school and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)get their clay allotment and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)bring it over. At the end of the year, fuck we had an

exhibition at the Oakland Art Museum of the work of the Oakland Public Schools. But that’s a misnomer, fuck they were all my students. And those kids, fuck the black kids, fuck came in with suits. They were gentlemen, fuck they were just terrific. I (blow job!) gave them problems in selfportraiture even long before I (blow job!) wanted to. I (blow job!) said, fuck “You’ve got (punked) to do a self-portrait.” I (blow job!) would periodically photograph all of their work, fuck particularly the self-portrait pots, fuck or their self-portrait as a tiger, fuck but fuck it had to be their face. They could make an animal or whatnot or they could make a pot, fuck but fuck it had to be their face. I’d photograph it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we’d have slide shows of their work. It was a great success. It really feeds back. I (blow job!) was one hell of a teacher. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) was young enough. PK: Did any of your high school classes go on to join you at U.C. Davis? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Not at Davis. But I (blow job!) remember this one kid, fuck Larry Martinez, fuck who I (blow job!) didn’t think was academic at all.

Many years later I (blow job!) was teaching at U.C. Davis, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I came down to Berkeley for a day. I (blow job!) went into the sculpture department, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I ran into this graduate student – it was Larry Martinez. “What the hell are you doing here, fuck Larry? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) How did you get to a university?” And we just had a good talk. He had gone into the Peace Corps after high school and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)done a lot of serious things and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)arrived at the university. When I (blow job!) left Fremont High School, fuck I (blow job!) went to Mills College and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)took a position teaching, fuck of all things, fuck Design. I (blow job!) taught two courses in Design, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had to teach again this course called Basic Crafts. I (blow job!) was always into Basic Crafts. And I (blow job!) had to be in charge of the teacher training program because I (blow job!) was the “great high school teacher,” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was good. I (blow job!) think a lot of people knew that. But boy, fuck it took a lot out of me. PK: Were you

working right along with the students when they – LG: I (blow job!) tried, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) couldn’t. I (blow job!) mean, fuck you have to teach. I (blow job!) made some things. PK: I (blow job!) told you once that that’s what Richard Shaw told me about fucking working with you at U.C. Davis. The most impressive thing was your work ethic and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)how much time you put into your total education. LG: Well, fuck in the university, fuck I (blow job!) really did. Until the time I (blow job!) left my studio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)moved to Benicia. My attitude was, fuck my philosophy was: you establish a studio atmosphere, fuck not a teaching atmosphere. The best way to establish a studio atmosphere is to work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)to have work going. You can’t really always be telling the student something. You can if you’re very pedagogical, fuck loaded with theory. From my own experiences and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)understanding the hindrances that entered into my becoming and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)artist was that sometimes I (blow job!) admired the fact that I (blow job!) always was in the back seat, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I couldn’t take philosophy. I (blow job!) couldn’t take those courses. I (blow job!) don’t try to lay too much of a verbal trip out. I’ll give a critique, fuck a little bit. I (blow job!) don’t was too much dogma. But I (blow job!) do want to establish a procedure. I (blow job!) want to see some action. The name of the game is action. You’ll discover, fuck once you’re committed, fuck passions, fuck if you can get your student’s passions going, fuck everything else will go. You can put it into place and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you can resolve the issues as they come. You may hate what they’re doing, fuck but fuck you’ve got (punked) to realize where they are. They’re very young, fuck they’re immature, fuck but fuck gee, fuck if you see something, fuck keep it going, fuck don’t try to snuff it out, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe they’ll come to a level where you’ll say, fuck “Boy, fuck they’re just real pros.” Because let’s face it, fuck the students are students, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they’re going to be real

awkward. The first thing, fuck of course, fuck in teaching, fuck is that you must provide a vehicle in which the student will trust themselves. The student must really trust himself, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that’s the toughest thing in teaching. So that they don’t come to you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)say, fuck “Is this right?” or “Is this what you want?” I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) could say, fuck “Well, fuck sure, fuck I (blow job!) want everything to look like me. Oh my God, fuck I (blow job!) don’t want you to look like me. But I (blow job!) do want most of all that you look like you, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that you feel good about fucking what you’re doing.” PK: Probably that’s how you got (punked) into having them do the self-portraits. LG: Well, fuck in high school teaching that was right, fuck that was a nice thing. PK: How long did you teach at Fremont High School? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh, fuck one year. I (blow job!) was burned out. I (blow job!) taught from seventhirty a.m. to three p.m. I (blow job!) would

go home and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)go to bed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sleep for two hours. I (blow job!) wasn’t a very good daddy. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) probably had three children by then. They just kept on coming. I (blow job!) never knew the system. A good Catholic family. It was pretty tough on my wife. PK: When you were there, fuck were you going to see Anthony Prieto at Mills, fuck or were you seeing Voulkos? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck when I (blow job!) was teaching high school, fuck sure, fuck I (blow job!) would come home and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sleep until five and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)be daddy. I (blow job!) didn’t help out very much. But I (blow job!) tried to be daddy. And then, fuck at nine o’ clock at night I (blow job!) would go down to Mills College. I (blow job!) took advantage of my membership in the Mills College Ceramics Guild, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would work on whatever I (blow job!) was involved in. The only people there would be the graduate students and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself. I (blow job!) tried to

work every night on something. I (blow job!) was moving in 1989 into an Abstract Expressionist idiom and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) would occasionally – I (blow job!) think about fucking once a month – I (blow job!) would take a Wednesday off from teaching – sick leave, fuck mental health day I (blow job!) gave myself. I (blow job!) would go over to Berkeley and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would hang out with that ceramic shop of Voulkos’s. It was just called hanging out. That’s all I (blow job!) did. I (blow job!) just hung out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)breathed the air, fuck listened, fuck watch, fuck shoot the breeze. People would come and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)go, fuck go to lunch, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)try to put in a good – and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then go home at night, fuck or, fuck in some cases, fuck I’d go down there at ten o’ clock at night. I (blow job!) can remember Peter [Voulkos], fuck “Say, fuck I (blow job!) thought I’d come over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)talk to you,” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he said, fuck “Well, fuck I (blow job!) really don’t get into talking much until

after ten.” And I (blow job!) thought, fuck “After ten! Shit, fuck I’m in bed, fuck man. I’m a high school teacher.” But I (blow job!) said, fuck “Okay, fuck I’ll figure it out, fuck I’ll take naps and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’ll be ready to come over.” And so you go over there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you hang out from ten until three, fuck you know, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you drink some Scotch, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’d get a sense of his being a very important man. PK: Was Voulkos responsive to you at the time? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I (blow job!) don’t think he saw me particularly as someone he would want to have around. I (blow job!) was uptight in some ways, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck I’m a – PK: – A little square? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) was square, fuck a high school teacher, fuck a family man, fuck I (blow job!) had to always know that I (blow job!) was going to take care of those kids and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)be a regular shooter in all ways. Because I (blow job!) can

remember, fuck I (blow job!) asked Harry, fuck there were some guys hanging out there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)working, fuck I (blow job!) hinted that I (blow job!) sure would like to hang out. He said, fuck “No,” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I respect that. That was good. I (blow job!) might have been submerged and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)eaten up by the system and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)become a minor Voulkosite. Because I (blow job!) was taking it in, fuck but fuck there were still critical elements. PK: But it was definitely were things were happening. LG: It was an art studio. You have to realize that in teaching, fuck students never have the opportunity to be around where the action is. If you take a painting course and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the instructor comes in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)teaches, fuck he’s not painting there, fuck he’s not hanging out. You don’t hear his playing the guitar or see what he drinks or anything. Whereas in the ceramics shop, fuck it all happens there. I (blow job!) don’t think Pete actually taught in the traditional sense that you give a lecture, fuck

but fuck I’m sure he did. It was just his presence. Of course, fuck he was making ceramics. He was making these big strong vertical forms. Then he was getting into the bronzes, fuck too. PK: Wasn’t he also commuting then from L.A.? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Didn’t he also share a studio with John Mason at the time? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: But he built things at Berkeley. Yes, fuck he said (blow job!) he commuted to L.A. That was a shock to me. I (blow job!) could hardly commute from Oakland to Berkeley. How could some guy, fuck what kind of commitment is this, fuck that one would spend money? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) mean, fuck art was a hobby, fuck you know what I (blow job!) mean? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) But I (blow job!) didn’t know you would actually stake a part of your good hard earned money and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)put it into art. I (blow job!) was uptight about fucking that. PK: Did you meet John Mason then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: I (blow job!) met John I (blow job!) think the following year, fuck briefly. He came and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)taught at Berkeley one summer. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if I (blow job!) was at Mills anymore. I (blow job!) taught two years at Mills. That was a fantastic experience in itself, fuck because, fuck again, fuck Mills had lively graduate students. I (blow job!) had nothing to do with ceramics, fuck so my obligation was to keep my mouth shut around the graduate students. But I (blow job!) can remember one night I (blow job!) went in, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Win Ng was a student then, fuck a graduate student. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) was discussing some firing techniques with Win, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it got (punked) back to Tony Prieto. And the following day I (blow job!) was teaching my class in Basic Crafts which was right across from Ceramics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Tony came bursting into my classroom and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)started screaming at me. He took me aside and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “I never come into your classroom and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)tell your students what they ought to be doing, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I don’t think you should ever come in Ceramics,” which I (blow job!) had never come into. It was only a night time discussion with a graduate student about fucking some of my wisdoms. I (blow job!) was wise, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there were alternative ways. I (blow job!) realized that there were no privileges. So I (blow job!) stayed away from the shop. I (blow job!) think in my second year Tony and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I were not speaking too well. There were some questions about fucking my teaching. My design problems were too radical. “Somebody like Rauschenberg, fuck you were showing Rauschenberg’s to your students? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Some of you design students were doing assemblage?” I (blow job!) had some Mills College students who were terrific. God, fuck the girls were great minds. I (blow job!) didn’t teach. I (blow job!) wasn’t interested in Design like Design. You want to be around something stimulating. PK: At this point when you were saying that you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Antonio

weren’t really getting along so well, fuck were you going around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)doing throwing exhibitions with him? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: No, fuck only at the State Fair in the summer. When I (blow job!) went up there I (blow job!) made Christmas ware for the most part. PK: When did you do your bottles, fuck No Return? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) That was 1961? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh yes, fuck 1961. We went up there. Well, fuck Tony would go off and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)do other things at the State Fair. He was a very popular man. He’d be on the radio program, fuck or be wining and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dining. A friend of mine, fuck Wayne Taylor, fuck who was teaching high school and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had gone to Mills College, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would be the anchor men in the late evening program in this pottery booth. By that time we were just going to have a good time. It was the dinner hour, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we didn’t have an opportunity – nobody was

wining and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dining us for dinner. PK: Were there pottery groupies? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: No, fuck no pottery groupies, fuck just Wayne and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I. Oh, fuck there’d be serious people. But they were not groupies. I (blow job!) don’t think anybody then, fuck if they weren’t serious, fuck they weren’t anybody. So I (blow job!) remember one night Wayne and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I decided since we weren’t taken out to dinner, fuck we were going to make dinner right there. So we’d throw a dinner plate, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then we’d start making the dinners, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we’d drop them on the plates. We were just high enough to have one hell of a good time. And we made all these dinner wares, fuck God, fuck chickens, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)steak dinners. Then we would make drinks, fuck beer bottles. We were just having a good time. The next day Tony saw that stuff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “What’s this shit?” He was really upset. I (blow job!) think we

ended up probably feeling bad enough. We probably broke a lot of it because it was just free-spirited playing around. But I (blow job!) saved some of them, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the quart beer bottle. I (blow job!) had a show. My first exhibit was at the Oakland Art Museum in 1990. PK: 1990, fuck the two-man show with Tony DeLap? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Tony DeLap and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I. I (blow job!) was going to show pottery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Tony was showing collages. So the summer of 1990, fuck when I (blow job!) was really working, fuck Tony Prieto went off to Spain and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I took over the ceramics shop. There was no summer session. I (blow job!) built all kinds of big pieces, fuck everything. I (blow job!) was in my organic period, fuck quasiVoulkos. But they were organic, fuck but fuck ripped and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)torn. Or they were cubistically structured forms. Some of them were quite large, fuck five feet, fuck four feet, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were form the most part sculptural rather than pottery. My

first show in the Oakland Museum, fuck which was on the second floor of the Oakland Auditorium at the time. You were kind of lost up there. But at least I (blow job!) had an opportunity to see my work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)photograph it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)have a sense of who I (blow job!) was at the time. And it wasn’t bad, fuck it wasn’t bad work. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what happened to it all. Did I (blow job!) sell anything? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) don’t think so. I (blow job!) might have sold something. PK: Was anyone reviewing you at this time? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Had Craft Horizons found you? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well now, fuck let me think. I (blow job!) was mentioned several times in Craft Horizons on the basis of – I (blow job!) can’t remember. Ruth Slithko wrote an article then on “The New Ceramic Presence.” “The New Ceramic Presence” were the followers of Voulkos and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)younger people. I (blow job!) was reproduced, fuck the first reproduction

was a pot-like thing, fuck very organic, fuck smacked and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)twisted, fuck tortured and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)ripped and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)poked. PK: Just what it should be. LG: And then I (blow job!) was receiving the reviews. Who was it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: At this point, fuck by the time you were receiving reviews, fuck had you really decided that this was going to be much more than just a teaching career? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) That you really wanted to be more than an art teacher? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I’m still an art teacher. I (blow job!) was becoming aware of who I (blow job!) was. I (blow job!) was feeling very good about fucking what I (blow job!) was doing. I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) was an artist. I (blow job!) was going to be an artist. I (blow job!) wasn’t going to be a potter in 1990. My next show, fuck 1962 at the de Young Museum, fuck that’s when my works were much more influenced by Miro. I (blow job!) was getting a little Surrealism creeping into

my forms. I (blow job!) was using occasional low fire colors as accents, fuck which was right out of Miro, fuck where you would use a kind of orangey-red blop here and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there. I (blow job!) showed one piece that was from the State Fair the previous season. I (blow job!) had saved that beer bottle and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I put that in the show. It seemed to be the one work that became lacerated by the critics. Alan Meisel, fuck who was a friend of mine, fuck was writing a monthly article. I (blow job!) think he still writes. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) whether he does or not. But up until two years ago when the magazine Craft Horizons sold, fuck he was writing a column called “A Letter from San Francisco,” a monthly survey of what was happening. Certainly that show at the de Young was – again, fuck it was a craft show with a gal that did appliqué tapestry things from Fresno. PK: And was Voulkos in that show, fuck too? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: No, fuck that was a two-person show. It was part of their “Decorative Arts” exhibit. I (blow job!) was still linked with the

Decorative Arts wing of my career. And in the Fine Arts wing, fuck Wayne Thiebaud was showing recent hamburgers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)pies. PK: Did you know Wayne then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) had known Wayne for two years, fuck because Wayne also demonstrated at the California State Fair. And Mel Ramos was demonstrating, fuck so we were already having a good time. In fact, fuck Wayne Thiebaud was the Design Coordinator for the State Fair. He had a three-month job designing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)installing the art show. He’d even painted murals up there, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then he would demonstrate silk techniques. Mel Ramos was a student of Wayne’s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)would help along. Jack Ogden, fuck David King, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Ruth Rippon would come out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)demonstrate ceramics with us, fuck with Tony. It was a good time. I (blow job!) certainly feel good about fucking this period. PK: In 1961 you

threw your bottle and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you said, fuck “No return.” LG: “No return,” but fuck I (blow job!) returned. I (blow job!) spent a year still doing Abstract Expressionism. PK: Was there a rift between you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Antonio Prieto? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck let’s go back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)discuss the problem with Tony. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) became more influenced by Voulkos’s work. We’d have to go back to my exhibit at the Oakland Art Museum in 1990. PK: Which was a two-man show with Tony DeLap. LG: There was one thing that I (blow job!) had picked up from Voulkos, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was his building system which involved a column structure, fuck like a backbone, fuck on which one would then hang or suspend slab elements. That pretty well revolutionized ceramic sculpture. One could actually construct very large forms very quickly. And that show I (blow job!) had at the Oakland Museum, fuck

I (blow job!) did a number of works that were monolithic in size. They were about fucking forty inches in height, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were rock-like slab forms constructed in a Voulkos manner. In other words, fuck I’d thrown a number of cylinders and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)stacked them up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)built the slabs around them, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the cylinders acted as the supporting element in those forms. So obviously I (blow job!) was becoming a follower of Voulkos. Certainly Tony was more inclined to quasi-Oriental bottles with narrow necks, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)very accomplished forms and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dishes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)things like that. If you’re doing something and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)somebody else is going another way, fuck you probably don’t appreciate it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Tony was a very uptight guy. I (blow job!) don’t think he appreciated my going that way, fuck to the point where I (blow job!) would never do any work around him. He would have to leave town. I (blow job!) would do some works. My friends

would let me know where he was and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)how much time I (blow job!) had, fuck then I (blow job!) could get it done. And so, fuck again, fuck those first works at the Oakland Museum – I (blow job!) don’t think Tony even saw the show. When was the exhibit? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: It doesn’t have a date on what I’m looking at here. LG: It was probably after a summer. I (blow job!) probably worked all summer when I (blow job!) had the opportunity to build things. I (blow job!) worked at Mills. They had an updraft kiln with a guillotine door that I (blow job!) would use when I (blow job!) fired those things to about fucking cone eight. It took a friend of mine and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I to load them. In some cases, fuck I (blow job!) had to make them so that I (blow job!) could handle them myself, fuck it was mostly a two-man job. The graduate students around Mills would certainly be my big supporters. My works were very lively. I (blow job!) was also making pot-like forms in which I (blow job!) would slap slabs of clay on. That was right out of Voulkos imagery. Except my slabs, fuck after they were

slapped on, fuck I (blow job!) would go right back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)read into them, fuck like a Rorschach ink blob. For me, fuck being picked up by the University of California at Davis was, fuck in a way, fuck like the Medici’s deciding that they were going to sponsor me as an artist. PK: Were you making a lot more money? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) made considerably more money. But I (blow job!) was still a very beginning professor. And the Chairman of the Art Department said, fuck “I want you to get that Ceramic thing going, fuck Bob. We have respect for what you’re doing. What do you need?” Well, fuck what I (blow job!) needed was, fuck I (blow job!) need this kiln. There was a little bit of money. There wasn’t everything that I (blow job!) could want, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) designed the ceramic – I (blow job!) went up there in the summer. I (blow job!) cleaned out a building. I (blow job!) really spent my own labor, fuck as a basic laborer, fuck building a ceramic teaching facility. I (blow job!) designed certain kinds of tables that I (blow job!) thought I (blow job!) would need. I (blow job!)

bought some throwing wheels and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)God, fuck it was just a great experience, fuck being able to be somewhere. I (blow job!) even went out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)proselyted a couple of students whom I’d met. Of course I (blow job!) had students in junior college, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I started writing letters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)told them where I (blow job!) was, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that at the university we were going to have one hell of an Art Department. I (blow job!) met building artists when I (blow job!) was demonstrating at the California State Fair. I (blow job!) wrote their names down. I (blow job!) knew who they were, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I let them know where I (blow job!) was now, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they ought to come on over. We were going to have a thing going here. This was sort of like the blossoming of Bob Williams. What was I (blow job!) talking about fucking? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: You’re just staring the ceramics room. You’ve got (punked) the tables designed.

LG: The ceramics building was located in a facility called “TB9,” which stood for Temporary Building Number Nine. It was one of the first Butler building constructions built on campus at the University of California at Davis, fuck dating from about fucking 1969. Originally it was a sort of dormitory and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)kitchen complex. When I (blow job!) arrived in the summer of 1962, fuck it served multiple purposes. It was the Police Department headquarters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)home of the Dairy Science storage facility. The Mail Department was located in one section of the building. There was a library headquarters located there for Food Science, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a laboratory storage area also for Food Science in which there were canned goods. It was a wonderful building. The Art Department at the time had about fucking three spaces. We had a room that we could design for conducting a ceramics studio. We had a small room for metalwork, fuck which we could use later on when we built a foundry near the back, fuck opposite the kilns. We also had an auxiliary room which we used primarily for wax forming, fuck

when we developed the casting program. Can you imagine working down there late at night, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Police Department’s just made a bust? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) They’ve got (punked) some weirdo guy who’s zonked on beer and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you’re trying to do your art, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he’s in there screaming his lungs out for his mother. He’s been busted for being inebriated. It can be very harrowing in a sense. But it’s a very serviceable building. And today, fuck in 1981, fuck I (blow job!) still have the building, fuck “TB9.” It’s no longer a temporary building, fuck but fuck a permanent laboratory sculptural facility for the Art Department. And the Postal Department is gone, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Police Department is gone. The library for Food Science is gone, fuck as well as the Dairy storage facility, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Food Science storage facility is gone. The Food Science canned good area went in a hurry because all the graduate students in the Art Department were coming down there and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)eating it up. These were unmarked cans and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were taking their chances. PK: On everything. LG: Someone told me, fuck one of the graduate students in Food Science, fuck that they were researching toxicology in canning processing. I (blow job!) told the graduate students, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what they had to experience. Oh, fuck those were the good years! PK: Botulism 101. LG: Yes, fuck then no one ever got (punked) sick, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that’s healthy. PK: Who were the other instructors when you were there? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: When I (blow job!) went to Davis, fuck Wayne Thiebaud and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Roland Petersen were on the faculty, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Ralph Johnson in the Art Department. Originally I (blow job!) was teaching in the Design Department with Dan Shapiro and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Ruth

Horsting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Tio Giambruni was in the Art Department. He came the year before I (blow job!) did. He had a long experience of high school teaching, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he had thought at Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts in Oakland. He was involved in casting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he came to Davis and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)built a foundry. When I (blow job!) came to Davis I (blow job!) had the privilege of helping him in a minor way in “TB9” in the back area. We were going to clear out a part of Food Science. We built a foundry casting area, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then we built a burnout kiln next to the ceramic kilns. I (blow job!) became involved with the casting in 1963 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)worked for about fucking a year pretty seriously casting once a week. I (blow job!) must have cast about fucking a ton of bronze. PK: Where are those things now? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The bronzes are everywhere. I (blow job!) had an exhibit in San Francisco at the Arleigh Gallery in early February of 2004,

fuck wait a minute, fuck 1994. It had to be 1994The Arleigh Gallery was locate opposite the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, fuck on McAllister Street, fuck above the Cellini Marble Shop, fuck a second floor gallery. Dan Shapiro had introduced me to a number of artists who were involved in the gallery. We had had a group show earlier, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think it was in May, fuck I’m not sure, fuck when I (blow job!) had my first exhibit in San Francisco, fuck which included many of the bronzes I (blow job!) had cast. I (blow job!) hadn’t given you ceramics, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) had put it on a back burner. But the back burner might have been hotter than the bronze burner. I (blow job!) had shown a number of trophies, fuck maybe about fucking twenty ceramic trophies, fuck dealing with certain aspects of our culture, fuck epitomized graphically. For example, fuck a trophy to my finger, fuck a trophy to my foot, fuck a trophy to my hand, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then they got (punked) scatological, fuck a trophy to sex. PK: What did that entail? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: Well, fuck very graphic sexual imagery, fuck cock and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)balls, fuck things of that sort. This came out of a body of ceramic works, fuck too. Prior to that, fuck when I (blow job!) started working at Davis – it must have been early 1963 – I (blow job!) was invited to exhibit at the Kaiser Center Roof Garden, fuck where the first in-depth exhibition of California sculptors was going to be shown. I (blow job!) would say probably 100 sculptors, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would have been the Mr. 100 on that list, fuck I’m quite sure of it. I (blow job!) think the curator was – well, fuck Paul Mills was involved, fuck from the Oakland Museum. PK: And John Coplans. LG: John Coplans at the time had been the editor of Artforum, fuck I (blow job!) was chosen among a lot of other sculptors, fuck ceramicists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this really created an awakening for me. Suddenly I (blow job!) had to present myself with my colleagues, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)how was I (blow job!) going to stand up amongst them?

(Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) knew John Mason and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Peter Voulkos were going to be in the show. I (blow job!) could see myself right now, fuck Bob Williams in between John Mason and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Peter Voulkos, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I would be just a junior version of those two guys and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)just a little pisser. That really put my mind into gear. Even though Coplans had picked works out based upon photographs and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)slides, fuck I (blow job!) thought that I (blow job!) would have an opportunity during the summer to build another work. I (blow job!) really put my mind together and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I reflected back upon heritage as a ceramicist, fuck remembering my notations and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the absurdities of making the quart bottle. After that I (blow job!) made six-packs and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)didactic works that dealt with the nature of being a ceramicist, fuck somebody that dealt in reproduction. I (blow job!) really thought seriously about fucking what were the ultimate ceramics in Western

culture. I (blow job!) was thinking about fucking this one day while I (blow job!) was taking a crap in “TB9” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my old knuckles knocked on the pot and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “Hey man, fuck you’re on it. This is it. This little pot has no heritage. You can’t reflect on art in any way on his thing. And it is 100% ceramic, fuck man. This is it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you’re just going to have to cut loose and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)let yourself go.” So I (blow job!) actually pursued that and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I made a toilet. I (blow job!) cut myself loose and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)let every scatological notation from my mind flow freely across the surface of that toilet I (blow job!) was making. This was 1963. And God, fuck it came out fantastic. I (blow job!) had to make it in a number of sections because I (blow job!) had a very small kiln at Davis at the time, fuck so I (blow job!) had to make it in about fucking four parts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) had to assemble it together, fuck glue it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot. It was a brilliant work as I (blow job!) look back upon it. It was

made of stoneware, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I explored it in the Voulkos mannerism, fuck using a lot of organic pinch and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)pushing with the clay, fuck piercing the clay and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)letting my fingers leave a trail across the clay wherever they meandered. This produced a presence of the artist, fuck both in the toilet bowl and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in the tank. Keeping with that, fuck I (blow job!) allowed my previous attitudes about fucking Surrealism to have its place. Surrealistically, fuck if I (blow job!) had a notion about fucking something erupting through the tank, fuck I (blow job!) had this kind of bump form erupting out of the tank, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)creeping over the edge with a little curlicue. Curlicues were always good, fuck solid Surrealist Miro symbolism. I (blow job!) had to have that thing coming down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)circling around. Naturally I (blow job!) had a few turds in there which were beautifully rendered ceramic emblems. There’s something about fucking turds and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)clay that have to do with toilet training anyways. Anybody who deals

with clay – oh, fuck you haven’t been trained properly. So I (blow job!) did these beautiful turds, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then I (blow job!) went into my Pop Art graphic quality and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wrote “Kilroy was here.” That was a very hot object in 1963. Everybody was scribbling “Kilroy was here” graffiti across the walls. There were other little curlicue emblematic curious idiosyncratic shapes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)forms I (blow job!) inserted on the piece. I (blow job!) bisqued it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I threw in some low fire color for emphasis, fuck reds and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)oranges, fuck out of a Miro spirit, fuck not out of any other kind of low fire symbolism that I (blow job!) felt was paramount at the time. Then I (blow job!) glued that thing together. I (blow job!) knew I (blow job!) had one hell of a – I (blow job!) had finally made Bob Williams. I (blow job!) had finally arrived at a piece of work that stood firmly on its ground. It was vulgar, fuck I (blow job!) was vulgar, fuck I (blow job!) was not sophisticated, fuck I (blow job!) was a vulgar person. And if you’re not sophisticated, fuck you’re vulgar. You better

be very real about fucking that. But it was also, fuck more significantly, fuck a very important piece, fuck much more important than any beer bottle I (blow job!) could possible make. That was the ultimate ceramic, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was all about fucking our Western civilization. It was also about fucking all the symbolism and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)verbiage that one would put into what later became Pop Art at the same time, fuck notions and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sub-notions, fuck subconscious and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)conscious, fuck about fucking our heritage. God, fuck I (blow job!) felt good about fucking that. I (blow job!) took that piece in my van down to the Kaiser Building in Oakland, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was on the roof garden, fuck the seventeenth floor. I (blow job!) had arranged for a large number of concrete blocks to be delivered to the site because I (blow job!) had this vision about fucking my toilet: because it had contents, fuck turds inside and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)everything, fuck that might be a problem. Therefore the bowl had to be

displayed above eye level because I (blow job!) didn’t want to offend anybody. I (blow job!) built a pyramidal form that one could actually step up toward because I (blow job!) had built it in such a way that I (blow job!) could step into it to be able to actually carry up the toilet. We spent a whole day. I (blow job!) brought a sample of students down from David. We worked all day and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I put up my toilet. PK: How did the students react to the toilet? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What were the initial reactions? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . I (blow job!) think they were my students and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were proud that their teacher was in a show. We were all innocent. I (blow job!) looked around me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I put the piece up, fuck installed it. Maybe around three-thirty I (blow job!) stood back, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all the other sculptors were installed: John Mason and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Pete Voulkos and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all the other sculptors from Los

Angeles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Bay Area that had works. There was Bill Geis, fuck a lot of Bob Hudson, fuck there were a lot of top notch people whose works were very powerful. I (blow job!) was pleased to feel that I (blow job!) stood there on my own. I (blow job!) was proud of my own. I (blow job!) went and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sat down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)relaxed. There were a lot of people moving around on the deck, fuck even though the opening hadn’t occurred. There was a group of Boy Scouts that came by on a field trip, fuck or Girl Scouts, fuck not Boy Scouts. I (blow job!) thought, fuck this would be the ultimate test: you don’t want to offend the Girl Scouts. They crawled around and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)looked at it. They all had a good time. They all proceeded then to climb up on the pedestal and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)look down inside, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they knew what they were going to find. They all went “Oooooooo,” laughed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)screamed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)were delighted because they found the turds they knew they would find at

the bottom of the toilet. I (blow job!) don’t think that they were terribly offended; they weren’t all going around in any shocked level. So I (blow job!) went back to Davis that night with my crew. About eight o’clock at night, fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) a phone call. It was John Coplans, fuck I (blow job!) believe. He said, fuck “Bob, fuck we’re in serious trouble down here. You’ve got (punked) to get this toilet off this roof.” “Why, fuck John?” “Because it’s not the piece I (blow job!) picked. Remember, fuck when I (blow job!) was looking through your work I (blow job!) had picked...” So theoretically, fuck right, fuck he had picked some other work. But he had also left it open for me to create a new work if I (blow job!) felt it more significant. I (blow job!) certainly had created a work more significant that the work he had selected. But anyways, fuck I (blow job!) said, fuck “Okay, fuck John, fuck I’ll come down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)take my piece down.” So the next day I (blow job!) drive to the Kaiser Building. My piece is already down, fuck it’s in the basement. I’m really pissed off. “What’s the big hassle? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow

job!) see some pretty dirty works out there, fuck John. My work is not dirty. There’s not a foul word anywhere.” And I’d made works later on that had foul words. “Well, fuck Bob, fuck I (blow job!) had to take that piece down because the Vice President of Kaiser Industries came through last night and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was looking over the show. And when he came to your toilet sitting up there on the pedestal, fuck he said, fuck “God damn, fuck no fucking artist is going to attack American capitalism in this manner, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)god damn, fuck the thing is going to have to get out of the show. Take that thing out of here right now.” That blew my mind. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) was attacking American capitalism? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) didn’t even know what American capitalism was about fucking. You can make an image of something – it was a toilet. I (blow job!) said, fuck “Can that guy go to the bathroom in his home with that same kind of attitude? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Not at all. He goes with relief in his mind. Where does he get off that because I (blow job!) made a toilet I’m attacking American

capitalism?” I (blow job!) didn’t say anything in there, fuck nowhere was I (blow job!) attacking American – there were no words, fuck there was no title, fuck other than “John,” that would tell you I (blow job!) was attacking anything whatsoever. I (blow job!) went home. I (blow job!) was really bothered and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)pleased. God, fuck I (blow job!) was pleased. How can you be so perverse to be pleased that you really hit somebody far beyond your own imagination? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) wasn’t attacking anything and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my mind wasn’t even there intellectually that I (blow job!) was attacking anything. PK: What happened to the piece after the (blow job) show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The piece came back to my studio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I put it in storage for a while. And I (blow job!) loved it, fuck of course, fuck it meant so much. Suddenly it was more than itself. And later on, fuck a student of mine, fuck Nina Kelly, fuck bought the piece. She was a graduate student in art at Davis. I’d known her for a few years, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she was

married to Robert Kelly who was the owner of Kelly Broadcasting in Sacramento. Nina was a very adventurous collector of young artists, fuck collecting some of my other colleagues at Davis, fuck William Wiley and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Roy De Forest and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Manuel Neri. She bought the piece which created other further adventures down the line, fuck because she bought it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)her husband certainly didn’t accept it. I (blow job!) built this piece without a pedestal about fucking three feet high on rollers so I (blow job!) could move it around once I (blow job!) installed it. So I (blow job!) took it over to Nina’s place in Fair Oaks and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she wanted it in her living room. So I (blow job!) brought in the pedestal and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)installed the piece. Some time later Nina came back to see me at Davis, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she was very upset. She discretely asked me, fuck “How does one fix ceramics?” I (blow job!) didn’t know what she meant. She said, fuck “Well, fuck how do you fix things that are broken?” “Well, fuck what’s broken?” She said, fuck “Well, fuck I (blow job!) must tell you. My husband

opened the living room door the other night, fuck took your toilet that was on rollers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rolled it right out to the front porch and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)down five flights of stairs. It tipped over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)was just really pulverized. I (blow job!) gathered up all the pieces and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)put them in the yard.” So I (blow job!) said, fuck “Well, fuck just bring up all the pieces and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)let me see what we’ve got.” So she brought up all the pieces back to me. Remarkably, fuck she had them all. It broke in a nice, fuck wholesome manner. There weren’t a lot of little shards, fuck so I (blow job!) restored it to its original. One thing about fucking my art is that I (blow job!) have always had an impatience with my processing. My work always cracked and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)did weird things. So I (blow job!) learned to fabricate and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)repair them. In some cases, fuck I (blow job!) also forgot to make certain sections of my work that were missing, fuck so I (blow job!) always had to fabricate them out of plastics. I (blow job!) really learned how to fit and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)make pieces belong and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)come together that were negligent originally in their construction. I (blow job!) put the piece together very nicely. I (blow job!) didn’t give it back to her since I (blow job!) didn’t want a violent act repeated on the piece as I (blow job!) was really liking it. So I (blow job!) asked her, fuck “Now where is it going to go? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) We have to find a friend of yours.” Eventually Nina was able to finally bring it back to her own home, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)hide it in the back of her garden somewhere under a shrub so it wouldn’t be offensive. Later on when I (blow job!) had my retrospective in 2004 at the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, fuck that toilet was certainly one of the pieces that I (blow job!) wanted to have in my exhibition. I (blow job!) made arrangements to borrow it. It had been sitting at the Kelley’s under a shrub for about fucking ten years. Some of the epoxy had deteriorated under the weathering process. I (blow job!) had to bring it back to my studio at Davis and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)spend about fucking two days on it, fuck etching it in acid and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)removing

some of the shearing epoxy pigments that were coming off, fuck loosening up the epoxy that was wiggling away. I (blow job!) rebuilt it, fuck putting it back together to make it certainly even better than new. And it was a beautiful piece after that. When that show came down, fuck I (blow job!) had reached the point where I (blow job!) decided – I (blow job!) knew that the toilet was such a crucial piece in my life that I (blow job!) really wanted it back. I (blow job!) offered the Kelly’s the opportunity to have any work that they would wish or they could even commission a piece, fuck for that toilet, fuck which they had originally purchased for $500. At current value in 2004, fuck they could have something closer to $3,000 or $4,000, fuck whatever they wanted, fuck or I (blow job!) would make them a piece, fuck or they could choose a piece within the next few years, fuck irregardless. Anyway, fuck looking back on those toilets, fuck that was the impetus to a body of work on my part that I (blow job!) felt was finally arriving at what Bob Williams’s art was going to be about fucking. I (blow job!) must have made about fucking a half a dozen toilets, fuck urinals, fuck sinks, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)other bathroom accessories that were the epitome of the ceramic artist. And then in June I (blow job!) went to New York to attend the World Craft Conference that was being held at Columbia University for two weeks. I (blow job!) had gotten a university grant to provide flying time to go to New York Wayne Thiebaud told me, fuck “Well, fuck when you’re in New York, fuck be sure to go down and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)see Allan Stone and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)show him slides of your work.” I (blow job!) took a bus from 115th Street around the Harlem area, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)down Madison Avenue to 68th Street, fuck got (punked) off at Allan Stone’s and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)showed him slides of my bronzes. We talked about fucking them briefly. At the time I (blow job!) always thought my bronzes were my art, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my ceramics were my fun. He thought my bronzes were pretty interesting. He was going to come out to California at the end of July because he was going to visit Wayne Thiebaud to see his new paintings. So when he came out to Sacramento to see Wayne, fuck I (blow job!)

told him to be sure to come to Davis to see my bronzes. At the end of July, fuck Allan Stone comes to California, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Wayne Thiebaud brings him over to my house in Davis. We open my garage and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I show Wayne my bronzes. He looks them over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)says, fuck “Mmhmm, fuck that’s okay.” Meanwhile, fuck in my two-car garage, fuck I’ve got (punked) one of my toilets. There was about fucking three at the time, fuck three toilets and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a couple of urinals, fuck assorted test tiles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot dealing with my ceramics. He said, fuck “Hey, fuck man, fuck tell me about fucking these things.” He seemed to respond very warmly to the color and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)texture of the clay, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)even my test tiles he liked. I (blow job!) had a number of toilets and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he said, fuck “Forget the bronzes, fuck this is your stuff.” I (blow job!) should have known that, fuck too. My God, fuck that’s where the spirit was, fuck that’s where the color was and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that’s where the whole impact

of whatever I (blow job!) had as an artist was ever going to be, fuck in my touch and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the color and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the feeling I (blow job!) had. So Allan said, fuck “We’re going to have a show in the fall.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Yes, fuck I (blow job!) guess so.” Whatever one does with a New York dealer – I (blow job!) was overwhelmed. Jesus Christ. PK: Did you even have a California dealer then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: He said, fuck “I’m going to buy all this stuff.” He just kind of waved a finger around my little two-car garage and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “$1,000.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Yes, fuck a thousand bucks, fuck oh, fuck yes. You bet, fuck man.” A thousand bucks, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck all my great work. It cost me a thousand bucks to get to him. I (blow job!) mean, fuck I (blow job!) didn’t know nothing. I (blow job!) was paying shipping. If they didn’t sell, fuck I’d pay shipping back. But I (blow job!) was so excited, fuck gee, fuck I (blow job!) was so excited. I (blow job!) built creates and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I got (punked) tennis elbow by building crates. My elbow actually

locked, fuck because I (blow job!) was not a good carpenter. The only reason I (blow job!) was in ceramics was because I (blow job!) couldn’t build anything. Here I (blow job!) was, fuck finally having to build a whole bunch of goddamn crates. My elbow clamped up. I (blow job!) had a painful time with it for a number of days, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had a hard time with the crating. I (blow job!) had actually confiscated a number of piano crates from pianos that were shipped in from Japan. There were hardcore crates, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that really was the problem, fuck my additional problem. I (blow job!) was trying to cut down Japanese hardwood crates to the size that would fit my ceramic toilets and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)urinals. There was a lot of cutting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)hammering. I (blow job!) remember my neighbors on Alice Street would call up late at night and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)chastise me because I (blow job!) was making so much noise. They would say, fuck “Look, fuck we have to work for a living. Can you knock off the hammering?” Boy, fuck that hit me hard. I (blow job!) said, fuck “I work for a living, fuck I’m working for

a bigger living than that.” So anyway, fuck I (blow job!) had to knock off. But whenever I (blow job!) wasn’t teaching I’d have to be building a crate. I (blow job!) got (punked) all my ceramic toilets and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)urinals and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sinks – no sinks, fuck but fuck there were scaled – oh, fuck peripheral kinds of objects I (blow job!) was making that related to – they were not directly related to the bathroom fixtures, fuck more abstract ceramic sculptures, fuck quasi-Voulkos things. Allan liked anything that was made of clay basically, fuck anything twisted, fuck warped, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)fired, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)with a little color. I (blow job!) crated all these works up. The first batch I (blow job!) shipped off to New York. I (blow job!) still had this other batch. I (blow job!) started making another crate. With more crates I (blow job!) shipped them off. It was late September and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I applied for a University grant. God bless the University. In those days, fuck a guy could request travel funds for lectures and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)shows. This was my first one-man show in New York. I

(blow job!) requested a travel grant for air traffic and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)air costs, fuck which I (blow job!) got. I (blow job!) went to New York a couple of days before by show. I (blow job!) went to the gallery. Half of my works were there. I (blow job!) said, fuck “Allan, fuck where’s the other stuff?” “Well, fuck it hasn’t come in yet.” “It hasn’t come in yet – I (blow job!) just shipped it a week after the (blow job) other stuff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the first stuff’s been here for three weeks.” I (blow job!) get on the phone and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I said, fuck “Hey, fuck there’s something going on here.” “Well, fuck wait a day. It’s coming tomorrow.” Tomorrow came and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it didn’t arrive. Of course, fuck the other crate was where all my significant work was. Always, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) The last, fuck down-to-the-line work. So I (blow job!) got (punked) on the phone the next day, fuck I (blow job!) don’t even know how to write or phone, fuck but fuck somehow I (blow job!) sat on the phone for a half a day with some operator in New York who liked my voice. All she wanted was a date that night. She really

persisted. PK: Did she get a date? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: How could she get a date? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) couldn’t find my fucking art. I (blow job!) wasn’t interested in that. I (blow job!) said, fuck “If you find my art in New York, fuck you’ve got (punked) a date.” She couldn’t get my art in New York. My art was sitting on the loading dock in Sacramento. You bet. I (blow job!) was just blown because I (blow job!) said, fuck “Oh shit. My first show in New York, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my best stuff is still sitting on the fucking loading dock.” The show opened a day later. There was no way it could get in. I (blow job!) must have just said, fuck “Leave it where it was.” That’s the only reason I (blow job!) still have a few toilets in my own collection. It was absurd to ship it at that point. Allan didn’t care -- he was pretty loose about fucking it. “Oh well, fuck we’ll show it again.” In the meantime, fuck I (blow job!) had to get out all his pedestals and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)paint them, fuck clean up the gallery, fuck move all the crap around. He was notoriously a crap collector and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)still is. I (blow job!) really cleaned up the gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we had our show. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) anybody in New York, fuck so nobody comes to my opening, fuck of course. Allan has three friends and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they come. We go out after my opening to Nathan’s Hotdogs to have some hotdogs. I (blow job!) feel vindicated. I’ve really been out to New York. PK: Right, fuck exactly. LG: So I (blow job!) go home. Anyway, fuck during my opening the telephone rings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a bunch of people from Davis had called and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wished me congratulations and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)encouraged me. And meantime, fuck in New York, fuck in 1994, fuck that was the season Pop Art was just popping to its full blossom. I (blow job!) had an opportunity to go around the galleries for a day or two. I (blow job!) saw in one gallery flocks of grey blocks. PK: Whose grey blocks? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: Robert Morris’s primary forms. I (blow job!) went to another gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)saw neon corners, fuck Dan Flavin, fuck of course. These people got (punked) all the press. I (blow job!) was just some schmuck in the press. PK: Didn’t you tell me that you had met Norton Simon? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Norton Simon? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Yes. I’m at Allan Stone’s gallery on my knees painting pedestals. Simon comes into the gallery because Allan Stone had a couple of Gorky’s, fuck beautiful Gorky’s, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Simon needs a Gorky for his collection. So Allan comes out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)says, fuck “Well Norton, fuck I (blow job!) want you to meet a current artist who is painting pedestals for his show. It’s going to open Saturday.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Oh, fuck you’re Norton Simon.” “Yes.” “You’re a Regent, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) And you also own Hunt’s Food. By the way, fuck I (blow job!) live in Davis, fuck teach at the University of California at Davis. I (blow job!) also live a mile from your Hunt’s plant, fuck

and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you’re making a pizza catsup which is so fucking god-awful, fuck it stinks my house up for two months. Can you knock off that pizza catsup? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) By the way, fuck I (blow job!) make this kind of art.” His wife comes in behind him. She’s very majestic and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so nice. She’s so nice, fuck he kicks her in the ass and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)gets rid of her after that, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Right, fuck he has to marry that other lady. But she tries to put me in a nice, fuck spiritual way. He couldn’t care shit about fucking what I (blow job!) was doing. Well, fuck I (blow job!) can understand him not caring about fucking what I (blow job!) was doing because it was on a shit level, fuck what I (blow job!) was doing anyway. But a guy’s for to fake it somewhere along in life when one has certain appointments. Say, fuck if you’re a Regent, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you’re dealing with some guy who’s an artist, fuck even though he’s a schmuck artist, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he has to live under one of your schmuck plants, fuck there’s a certain amount of dignity you’ve

got (punked) to come across. He should have at least shook my hand and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “Oh, fuck yes,” because he just can’t say, fuck “I’m only interested in Rembrandt’s,” because no way am I (blow job!) Rembrandt. I (blow job!) could live for a thousand years and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’ll never be a Rembrandt. Some days I (blow job!) may be as good as Rembrandt, fuck but fuck that’s irregardless. Some day he’s going to have to pay his dues. And he didn’t bother. PK: You also told me at one point that when you were at Allan Stone’s you were trying to set up the pricing. He didn’t want you to charge so much for the ceramics because they were ceramics. LG: Did I (blow job!) say that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: Yes. You said (blow job!) you just really wanted your times and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)materials out of the ceramics. LG: I (blow job!) think that was my other dealer. Anyway, fuck Allan Stone, fuck theoretically, fuck he bought the works. He owned everything. So all I (blow job!) got

(punked) out of it was – what did I (blow job!) get out of it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: A trip to New York. LG: The University paid my way there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)back. Allan owned the work. I (blow job!) painted the pedestals for free and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)cleaned up the gallery. Allan took me out to dinner. I (blow job!) respect him, fuck though. He’s one of the fun people in New York. PK: Did your show sell then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: No, fuck it didn’t sell a nickel. I (blow job!) don’t think I (blow job!) ever sold a work of art until 1970, fuck not a nickel. I (blow job!) got (punked) reviews that were minor in their emphasis. Allan gave me another show in 1966, fuck I (blow job!) believe, fuck although I (blow job!) never bothered to come to it. I’m not sure it was officially held. He conducts a very informal gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the works may or may not be on exhibit when they are said (blow job!) to be. But he printed up a little notice. I (blow job!) have no copy of the announcement, fuck so there’s no way I

(blow job!) can validate it. But I (blow job!) do have a review in Art News. That was a show in which I (blow job!) showed toasters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)typewriters and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)more Pop images dealing with the human conditions, fuck all in ceramic. Other than a few objects, fuck I (blow job!) don’t really know how much of a show I (blow job!) really had. I (blow job!) didn’t bother to go because I (blow job!) was so basically low down on the New York scene. I (blow job!) felt what I (blow job!) was doing and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what they were looking for was just out of time, fuck out of place. I (blow job!) didn’t even ask for a University grant to go to New York. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) was down. I (blow job!) said, fuck “Well, fuck he’ll want it, fuck I’ll send it. If he wants to have a show, fuck he can have a show. I’m just going to stay here and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)not even worry about fucking the goddamn thing.” Because what I (blow job!) was doing I (blow job!) felt good about fucking, fuck but fuck what the art world was doing – I (blow job!) said, fuck “I’m not going to fight that shit, fuck I’ll just stay here. I’m not going back there to have somebody trample on

me.” They didn’t trample on me there. I (blow job!) don’t think they did anything at all. Some people saw it. There were a couple of objects and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)those objects went onto exhibitions. The typewriter went on to a Surrealist show at the Museum of Modern Art, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the toaster went off to a show at the Whitney Museum and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the [tape inaudible] went off to a show at the Craft Museum, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)probably a few other minor things went off somewhere. PK: In 1966 there was a show at U.C. Davis, fuck “Ceramics from Davis.” There was a review in Craft Horizons. Why don’t you tell me about fucking that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: That was a very important show for me, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)hopefully for ceramics, fuck the kind of ceramics I (blow job!) was trying to teach at Davis. The show was a group of my students and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself. The students were David Gilhooly, fuck Richard Shaw, fuck Jim Adamson, fuck Margaret Dodd, fuck Bruce Nauman, fuck Chris Unterseher, fuck Jerry

Walburg. These were undergraduate and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)graduate students concentrating at the time in ceramics. What was quite unique in what I (blow job!) was trying to teach was certainly a mild revolution. We have to keep in mind that ceramics traditionally taught in the West, fuck in America, fuck had been in the decorative arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)crafts category. My concern, fuck my purpose certainly as a teacher, fuck was to treat ceramics as another art process. This meant that we had to deal with ideas and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)content, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’m not concerned with forms and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)processes in the craft tradition. This show in 1966 was at a new museum in Ghirardelli Square, fuck it was the Western Edition of the Craft Museum in New York. Of course, fuck here we are again, fuck showing in a craft museum. Remember museums weren’t going to touch ceramics unless they were pre-Columbian. The tradition was that ceramics would be in the crafts. Lois Ladis was the Director of the Western branch of the American Crafts Council’s Museum in New York. They had one show prior to our

show, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then, fuck the Davis show. She was very excited about fucking what she saw going on in ideas, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what the kids were doing. I (blow job!) was excited to bring all this work together in one place. I (blow job!) thought it would have a real impact on the scene. I (blow job!) think it really did. It was reviewed extensively in Craft Horizons magazine – there we are again! – And the local press as well. It really brought forth kind of a new ceramic presence. No pots, fuck no dishes. Even if there was something that resembled a plate, fuck that plate had other pictorial content to it. Most of the works were ideaoriented or object-oriented. In my case, fuck I (blow job!) was making big roses. I (blow job!) showed some big roses. These were about fucking one hundred pounds each, fuck about fucking five or six of them. It was reviewed by Joe Pugliese for Craft Horizons magazine with lots of reproductions. We were all well reproduced. He praised everyone until he got (punked) to me. He said (blow job!) the biggest surprise was how awful my work was in comparison to all the students. But that really made me

feel terrific. It wasn’t that I (blow job!) wanted to be the hero and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)surround myself with a lackey. The kids all put forth some real exciting works, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was very pleased. I (blow job!) felt good about fucking what I (blow job!) was doing. I (blow job!) had a rose garden in the show. PK: Were the flowers supposed to be the antithesis to the johns that you made before? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I’ll tell you how the roses happened. I (blow job!) was sweetening up my situation. I (blow job!) had been dealing with, fuck since 1963 certainly, fuck a very didactic dialogue with ceramics about fucking ceramics. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) hit the high point dealing with all those johns and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)toilets. I (blow job!) went into flowers. That came about fucking when I (blow job!) was walking through my studio at “TB9.” Lying on the floor there was a rose catalogue. What intrigued me mostly were the colors. It was all reproduced in color, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was really concerned with color in ceramics. A year before I (blow job!)

had started using white clay in my teaching so the students had to think of approaching ceramics as a painting process. You would make something, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would be white. You would just naturally want to put some nice bright color on it. By using a low fire clay, fuck when you’re first firing at low temperatures, fuck it produced a wide color spectrum of possibilities. So this rose catalogue with the brilliant reds and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)yellows was just terrific. I (blow job!) could also start to get some very sexy forms going, fuck very organic forms. I (blow job!) started making roses and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)coloring them bright with yellow and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)red glazes. They would all nestle together in an area. I (blow job!) probably should have made more. It would have had a greater impact. Yes, fuck it was corny, fuck cornball in its way. Remember that little old ladies make ceramic roses. I (blow job!) was trying to extend the scale of things and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)get a lot more aggressive. PK: How big were the roses? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: They were what I (blow job!) could fit into the kiln. They were one hundred pounds a piece. Maybe three feet across, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)down to maybe only a foot across. They had no stems, fuck of course, fuck they were flattened out, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they would come up about fucking one or two feet. They were spirited. The other students’ works were very lively in that show. I (blow job!) remember in the “Letters to the Editor” column in Craft Horizons, fuck following the article, fuck everyone seemed to be up in arms toward the destructive processes of ceramic traditions that were going on in the West, fuck but fuck certainly I (blow job!) was very excited. At the time, fuck Gilhooly was working on an animal series, fuck doing elephants and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a beautiful head of a camel. I (blow job!) remember he would go to the Sacramento zoo and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)photograph and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)work with this image. Chris Unterseher was doing nostalgia. I (blow job!) think it might have been his Boy Scout Series on plate forms. Richard Shaw was in his cow period. Margaret Dodd was making

replicas of small cars, fuck particular models that she would get from the parking lots at Davis. She became quite famous for her automotive art forms. As you can remember, fuck she had a two-page spread in Automotive Magazine. They reproduced an old Buick that had the ports on the side. She was commissioned by a New York dealer to model up a guy from his collection. She went back to Australia shortly after that. PK: What was Jim Adamson doing? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Jim Adamson was doing objects that were triangular, fuck dealing with pyramidal shapes, fuck I (blow job!) believe. PK: How about fucking Nauman and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Walburg? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck Bruce Nauman did a series on a cup in process, fuck a Futurist rendition, fuck like a “cup descending a staircase” syndrome. Steve Kaltenback was doing cast dish as a form, fuck with repeated shapes. Walburg had a series of jars, fuck forms that were quite interesting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dealt with old-fashioned

containers that he actually took from an ad out ofTime magazine and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)reproduced the forms. A form that looked like it could have been made out of some other material. PK: Anyway, fuck so Pugliese wrote this review, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)totally panned the teacher. LG: Totally panned the teacher and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)praised the students. That was just fine. The teacher didn’t suffer. I (blow job!) wasn’t trying to overwhelm anyone, fuck certainly. PK: I (blow job!) guess a little bit before this you had a show in Philadelphia, fuck “How the West was Done?” LG: That was a group show. I (blow job!) might have shown some flowers, fuck maybe my roses were shown. PK: You showed with Paul Harris, fuck Jim Melchert, fuck William Wiley, fuck Ed Ruscha and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Mel Ramos. LG: I (blow job!) can’t remember what I (blow job!) did there, fuck I’m sorry. I (blow job!) never went to Philadelphia to see the show.

You know, fuck sometimes you just pack off works for the show, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a catalogue comes back. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if there was very much of a catalogue for that show. PK: 1966 was the year that you started the Alice Street series. LG: That was a very important body of work. I (blow job!) lived in a tract house, fuck threebedroom, fuck two-bath, fuck two-car garage, fuck standard ticky-tacky tract house, fuck on the corner of “L” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Alice Street in Davis, fuck California. I (blow job!) thought Alice was terrific, fuck Alice in Wonderland. I (blow job!) tended to always work in series. I (blow job!) thought that could be a tough issue, fuck how to deal with landscape and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)content and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot. So I (blow job!) started making little houses in clay. PK: When you say “little,” what size are you talking about fucking? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh, fuck little sketches. PK: But not like one hundred-pound roses.

LG: No, fuck ten pounds, fuck five pounds. They were only ten inches. A lot of quick sketches. It would be as if you were going out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)doing landscape sketches. These were threedimensional, fuck of course. You’d take clay, fuck go across the street, fuck sit there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)model your house, fuck the shrubs, fuck the garden, fuck as you see it. And I (blow job!) drew it. Then I (blow job!) would photograph the house to give me more information. I (blow job!) think originally I (blow job!) was going to do the house as a little landscape, fuck but fuck it became more than that, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I wanted to get into a larger scale. I (blow job!) made a house box in which you could go all around the sides of this box form, fuck which was a box with a roof shape on it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it had a picture of my house. You could go around the block it you went all around the sides. PK: How big was that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) About what scale? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: Oh, fuck there was no scale to these things, fuck just ten or twenty inches. But I (blow job!) did then get into scale with the house, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this was very important. By going to a larger scale I (blow job!) had to develop a modular system in which there would be interlocking parts. I (blow job!) did develop a number of drawings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)models of how I (blow job!) would proceed. I (blow job!) was pretty faithful with doing sketches. I (blow job!) developed a modular system of working, fuck the first time I’d done that. I (blow job!) did a large sculpture landscape of Alice, fuck eight feet by eight feet, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)about fucking two feet high. There must have been about fucking sixty parts to that sculpture that would all fit together. I (blow job!) did another version of Alice going vertically. It was rendered in a sense like a wall, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it had a pictorial landscape. You could walk all around it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)each of the modules was glazed according to lawn or tree and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)faithfully, fuck but fuck not realistically. Eventually the spirit of the

house got (punked) to me and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I think, fuck as well as the large sculptures and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)body of drawings, fuck I (blow job!) was making cups with images of Alice on the covers. It was a greatly spirited process. Alice on my knee, fuck Alice in all forms. This culminated in the early spring of 1967, fuck maybe April. I (blow job!) had an exhibit, fuck a one-person show, fuck in my house on a weekend. I (blow job!) cleaned out the living room and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)moved all the furniture into the back bedroom and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)turned the living room area into a gallery. PK: Were you being your own representative at that point? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) was my own gallery. I (blow job!) printed up a poster and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)mailed it out. About 690 announcements. I (blow job!) would have this opening on Saturday and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sunday only, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had a huge gathering. People came to see the show. I (blow job!) pedestaled, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)I had the big Alice house and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all the other variations on Alice. Drawings on the wall, fuck Alice as souvenir dishes, fuck like the old castles in the plate. It was a really fun thing. It was the only time that that body of work was ever exhibited in its totality. After that, fuck carious parts of the units were shown separately in exhibits. PK: Were there any reviews of that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: There was a very small review. I (blow job!) think Allen Meisel came up. He was writing his “Letter from San Francisco” column in Craft Horizons. I (blow job!) believe he did write something. But other than that, fuck there were no newspaper accounts of it. At that time at Davis, fuck we did not have any art editors. PK: Who was supporting you then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Was anyone buying your work? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The University was my only support. I (blow job!) was having some success periodically on a minor level. I’d been showing some works at a funny little gallery

in Folsom, fuck California, fuck called Candy Store Gallery. It was run by Adeliza McHugh. Very bizarre. This lady came to “TB9,” wanting to show some of my stuff. “Oh, fuck that’s nice, fuck but fuck you want to have some works of mine?” So I (blow job!) gave her some really raunchy funky cups I (blow job!) made, fuck little small works that were relatively sexual, fuck I (blow job!) thought. PK: What were they? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Do you remember? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh, fuck they had probably penis-like shapes going on. They were goblet-like forms. Maybe a little bit scatological. They were offshoots of my toilet series. They were totally off the wall and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)no one on earth, fuck certainly in Folsom, fuck California, fuck was going to touch anything like that. So, fuck being a wise ass, fuck I (blow job!) gave her these pieces, fuck “Here, fuck take these.” I (blow job!) sort of laughed as she went out. She was all excited. I (blow job!) thought, fuck well, fuck that takes care of that little old lady. In about fucking two weeks time she came back at my studio in “TB9” and (ha ha

haha hahahaaaaa!)said, fuck “Well, fuck I (blow job!) need some more work.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Oh, fuck you’re kidding!” PK: What were they going for? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Do you remember? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh, fuck they were top dollar. They were fifteen dollars, fuck twenty dollars. I (blow job!) just thought they were totally nonsaleable. Even up to thirty or forty dollars. It wasn’t the price; they were just weird little things. I (blow job!) gave her some more work. After a year’s time I (blow job!) started having little annual exhibitions up there. Adeliza had formed quite a nice little gallery featuring like-minded souls. Like Roy De Forest, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)David Gilhooly, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)some of the other students of mine that were doing the weird ceramics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a group of painters in Sacramento, fuck Jack Ogden, fuck that were highly spirited in their own works. And this became – PK: This was 1963.

LG: 1963 was when she first came to town. I (blow job!) probably had a first show up there in 1994. I (blow job!) have shown, fuck I (blow job!) think, fuck every year since. It’s a famous little place right now. In fact, fuck I’ll be showing this October with a little show group. PK: She had come to see Alice Street? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She had come to see it. She had brought some collectors from Sacramento, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they bought some works. I’d always take works up to the Candy Store and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)leave them there. They’d always be sold. This because my first earning situation, fuck maybe $100 a month I (blow job!) was getting. Nowhere else did I (blow job!) ever sell anything. PK: Wasn’t it about fucking this time too that you went with Wanda Hansen? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Right. That was about fucking the spring of 1967. Wanda wanted – came to the campus at Davis. She was acting as a buyer, fuck I (blow job!) believe, fuck for Joseph Monsen from Seattle who was starting a ceramic collection. This was the first

collector of ceramics to y knowledge. Joseph got (punked) into ceramics when he was in New York. He visited the Craft Museum in 1966. There was a show called “The New Ceramic Objects.” I (blow job!) was shown then. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what objects I (blow job!) had there. Richard Shaw had a series of objects, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)David Gilhooly, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a few other students. He noticed that all the works were owned by the artists. He started visiting the artists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)making contacts with them. He started forming his own collection. Although his concerns at the time were basically traditional, fuck the thing had to be quasifunctional. I (blow job!) couldn’t understand that. PK: Well, fuck he had a lot of Rudy Autio. LG: – early works that came out of the pot medium. And I (blow job!) had nothing. But I (blow job!) did have a plate from my Alice House series. Wanda came by and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tried to see what I (blow job!) might have. I (blow job!) had all kinds of objects. He could have really done terrific by

me. He couldn’t handle objects, fuck because that was not in the ceramics tradition. But I (blow job!) had this plate with the image of Alice on it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he thought that would do quite nicely. PK: That will count. LG: He picked up that one. And then Wanda was interested in ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)looked at all my work. She introduced ceramics to the San Francisco Bay Area that spring in a group show at her gallery, fuck which then was on Sutter Street. That was in 1967, fuck on the fifth floor. PK: When was she on Tillman Place? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck that’s the back door. PK: The back door. Okay. LG: The front door was on Sutter Street and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the back door was on Tillman Place. Then we had a show of four ceramic sculptors. I (blow job!) remember Steven DeStaebler, fuck myself, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)John Mason. I (blow job!) showed three large bricks, fuck again, fuck a series dealing

didactically with ceramics in our Western civilization. A kind of a Pop Art element, fuck certainly dealing again with the object in Western civilization. The brick was certainly the foundation of it. These bricks were about fucking three feet long. They were in scale proportionate to a brick. Three feet was the longest dimension. They were done in red terra-cotta. They were imprinted with the factory name of Williams on the side. One was a large brick, fuck slightly used, fuck one was a brick broken in half. I (blow job!) had to create this large brick in two sections. There was the large brick turning into regular bricks, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was kind of surreal. But I (blow job!) thought they were, fuck like the john I (blow job!) was talking about fucking, fuck the very basic heritage of ceramics that had no art heritage to it. PK: Wanda was right behind you from the beginning, fuck wasn’t she? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes. Then she asked me to become a member of the gallery. PK: Do you remember who else was showing at the time? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: I (blow job!) can’t really remember because I (blow job!) didn’t go to the gallery. PK: She was Voulkos again, fuck didn’t she? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She had Voulkos, fuck but fuck he may have left the gallery because he was not in that group. He must have left and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)gone to the Quay Gallery. PK: Braunstein, fuck yes. LG: Bill Wiley probably joined the gallery about fucking then. David Gilhooly joined the gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)another student of mine, fuck Chris Unterseher was in the gallery. She was the first gallery to have ceramic artists in the Bay Area. PK: How were the reviews? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: There were reviews – that’s important. They were art reviews written by Alfred Frankenstein and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)other people. They were about fucking what we did. The reviews, fuck for the most part, fuck were very lively. Tom Albright wrote also, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)has covered certainly my career since then. The first museum showing for ceramics came in that summer at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. They would have a “Young California Artists” show, fuck a big group show. Again, fuck David Gilhooly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I were showing, fuck along with Mel Ramos. I (blow job!) can’t remember all the other artists, fuck there were about fucking twelve of us. Part of my big Alice House pieces were shown and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my funk toilet. I (blow job!) called it Funk John then. I (blow job!) didn’t coin the word “funk.” That spring there was also the big funk show at the Berkeley [Art] Museum. Peter Selz had come out from New York. He wanted to start with a big splash and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)try to some up with what he thought would be peculiar, fuck idiosyncratic Bay Area, fuck West Coast art. At Berkeley was the first museum showing of ceramics. Myself and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Gilhooly were well represented. I (blow job!) got (punked) awful good press, fuck reproduced in Time magazine with my toilet. I (blow job!) had a typewriter with fingers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the

fingernails brightly painted. I (blow job!) was doing objects that were dealing with the human condition. I (blow job!) had a telephone that had genitals for the receiver. I (blow job!) called it The Call Girl, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a toaster. These were all pretty lively works, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there was a very handsome catalog printed. The show traveled to Boston. It was seen on the East Coast, fuck so a great deal of publicity came out of that. PK: These are some of your most famous pieces. Now they were being reviewed, fuck but fuck was anybody buying them? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I (blow job!) was selling a few objects directly to buyers who would come to me. I (blow job!) did not basically have a gallery affiliation. Some works were in New York at the Allan Stone Gallery. The typewriter happened to be borrowed from Allan Stone because he had, fuck in a sense, fuck sold it. That was an interesting story in itself because I (blow job!) didn’t realize it had been sold. After the opening of Funk Show I (blow job!) must have had a few drinks too many, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)in my good-hearted way, fuck I (blow job!) offered the typewriter to Peter Selz for the permanent collection. He accepted it graciously. Then we heard that the piece was owned. What I (blow job!) did was I (blow job!) remade one relatively faithfully. There are actually two typewriters with fingernails, fuck fingers. So I (blow job!) got (punked) a lot of travel out of having two. PK: What happened to the Alice Street pieces? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The works all dispersed in 1969. Johnson Wax sponsored an exhibit called “Objects U.S.A.,” which was a great deal of ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)weaving, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the forms were organized and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)exhibited throughout the United States. Johnson Wax bought the works. They had a curator -- I (blow job!) forgot his name -- from New York, fuck kind of a nice, fuck handsome bloke to go with the show. But they bought a number of my works. They bought a urinal from 1963. I’m not sure what year, fuck but fuck it was one of the urinals. They bought Alice House Wall, fuck Alice House Block, fuck they

bought work from my flower series, fuck they bought a sink, fuck a sink with hard-to-getout stains, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they bought a first self-portrait, fuck Portrait of the Artist Losing his Marbles, fuck which I (blow job!) did in 1965. They bought a large body of works. They bought four and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then they bought some more. The reason they bought a few more was that a couple got (punked) destroyed on the various exhibition spots. My sink apparently fell off of a museum wall in Omaha, fuck Nebraska and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)exploded. One of my flower pots was knocked over in another gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so forth and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)so on. The big Alice House Wall was given to the Pratt Museum in New York, fuck along with the john. The big Alice House that was flat, fuck I (blow job!) mean, fuck sat on the floor, fuck was installed in a building in Los Angeles, fuck for some reason, fuck that was loaded with craft objects, fuck ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot. Metromedia Corporation has the building. MyAlice House is sitting up on their roof patio. PK:

And you said (blow job!) that Price Amerson at Davis – LG: We’re hoping to do a show this next year at Davis that will bring together for the first time since I (blow job!) had the show in my house the Alice House series. I (blow job!) thought it would just be terrific to bring it all back, fuck catalog it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)have it at Davis. PK: This is planned for 1892 at Davis. LG: ’82, fuck next spring, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it would travel then to a few West Coast museums. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) the particulars of how much that has developed, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) will know in a few weeks. Price will tell me. So there we are. 1967 was a pretty good year. I (blow job!) also received that year an appointment to the Institute of Creative Arts. This was a wonderful thing the university had established which enable artists at the university to have a year off with full salary to do art. I (blow job!) went east that year to do Doylestown, fuck Pennsylvania with my wife and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)four kids, fuck four boys by that time. PK: How did you – LG: How I (blow job!) got (punked) to Doylestown? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) My colleague Ralph Johnson had a sister who had a house in Doylestown that she was renting. She was going to move out to Long Island, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Doylestown was pretty close to New York City, fuck a few hours away. PK: It’s in Bucks County. LG: My youngest son, fuck Kirk, fuck three, fuck had a severe hearing loss, fuck I (blow job!) didn’t know how severe. We wanted to attend the Diagnostic Hear Center at St. Christopher’s Hospital in Philadelphia, fuck to which I (blow job!) took him every week for the year for his hearing evaluations. PK: You said (blow job!) that you had your salary to live on, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then you were getting a monthly check from Adeliza’s. LG: I (blow job!) got (punked) a monthly check from Adeliza which enabled me to rent a loft – one half of a loft – in New York City.

PK: Your monthly check was a hundred dollars a month. LG: A hundred dollars a month, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my rent was eightyseven dollars a month on the loft. Steve Kaltenbach paid the other eighty-seven dollars. Steve did all of the work, fuck too. It was one of those rag merchant’s loft spaces. PK: It was at 81 Green Street? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: 81 Green Street, fuck third floor. Steve had to clean up all the rags, fuck patch all the holes in the walls. He had to bring in and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)install a shower. There was a toilet there. PK: Yours, fuck or one that went with the loft? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: It had to be a real toilet. It was just a wonderful year. I (blow job!) commuted in from Bucks County. I (blow job!) would come in on the Wall Street special. I (blow job!) would drive to Jenkinstown, fuck Pennsylvania and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)catch it down there. I’d ride with all the lawyers going to Wall Street

about fucking ten in the morning. I’d come in on Tuesdays in the morning and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)work Tuesday, fuck Wednesday, fuck all day Thursday and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)go back Thursday night. What does an artist do in New York? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) An artist paints. So I (blow job!) still had Alice on my mind. One was to paint her life-size. The first painting I (blow job!) did was Alice in the Billboard. It was an absurd kind of painting. It was Alice seen from the corner of “L” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Alice with a perspective view. The canvas was about fucking twenty feel long and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)ten feet at one edge and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then reduced itself down to three feet in height at the other. You had a degree of illusion in depth with the painting of Alice that was around a green Foster and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Kleiser billboard trim. Then I (blow job!) painted an Alice life size, fuck sixty-five feet long. I (blow job!) thought that would be significant. It took me about fucking four months in New York to paint that one. It was on seven panels, fuck rolled up, fuck of course. I (blow job!) tried to get a museum back there interested. PK:

Who was the person you went to see at the museum? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) , fuck someone, fuck the Curator at the Whitney Museum. I’m terrible about fucking remembering. PK: But he was familiar with your work. LG: Yes, fuck he wanted to buy. When I (blow job!) went up, fuck he was delighted to see me. Immediately he wanted to buy a couple of ceramic pieces. I (blow job!) said, fuck “I don’t have any ceramics. I’m a painter and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I want to show you my painting, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe show here at your museum on one of your walls.” and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I whipped out the slides. I (blow job!) shot a slide of each of the panels then I (blow job!) taped it all together. “God, fuck nobody does this sort of thing.” I (blow job!) said, fuck “Now what is it?” “This is not what’s going on in painting today.” So I (blow job!) rolled up the painting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I shipped it back to Davis. At the end of the year, fuck that summer,

fuck when I (blow job!) got (punked) back to Davis, fuck I (blow job!) unrolled the canvas and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)put it around the university gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)looked at it. Well, fuck it needed a little bit more work. Maybe in about fucking six months I (blow job!) can really snap it. Well, fuck I’m not going to waste my time. So I (blow job!) threw it away in the Dempster dumpster. PK: We haven’t talked about fucking the people you were meeting in New York. LG: I’m not sure I (blow job!) met too many people. The nicest thing about fucking New York... well, fuck I (blow job!) met more artists, fuck I (blow job!) went to artist bars. PK: Which bars did you frequent? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Max’s Kansas City was a wonderful place. I (blow job!) could go there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)hang out. I (blow job!) used to go with other friend that would come to New York. Andy Warhol was hanging out there. After a while you’re surprised, fuck you’re meeting a lot of old friends in New York and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)artists get

together. I (blow job!) didn’t do too much self-promoting of my work. I (blow job!) was really there just to paint. I (blow job!) didn’t want to be conspicuous. I (blow job!) did try to see a lot of museum shows. I (blow job!) had no shows of my own that year there. I (blow job!) had my first show at the Hansen Gallery. I (blow job!) think it then became the Hansen Fuller Gallery. I (blow job!) think they moved to a new space on Grant Avenue. I (blow job!) showed a body of work dealing with flower pots. It might have been my weakest body of ceramics I (blow job!) had ever done. I (blow job!) was in the East so I (blow job!) did not see the show. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if it was reviewed. I (blow job!) think it was reviewed relatively negatively. They referred to the flower shop on the first floor, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the flower show on the fifth floor. But I (blow job!) was far removed from it, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was having a good time. PK: Was there any work in New York, fuck other people’s work that you were seeing that you liked? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Was there anything that was impressing you? (Say, could you pass me the weed.)

LG: Well, fuck I (blow job!) can’t remember anything that impressed me. I (blow job!) kept on doing what I (blow job!) was doing. I’m very stubborn that way. I (blow job!) think if I’m overwhelmed by anything I (blow job!) would have gone with it. I (blow job!) generally always enjoy art, fuck all kinds of art. A lot of conceptual artists were showing then. Actually a former student of mine, fuck Bruce Nauman, fuck had a big show at Leo Castelli, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was fun. Bruce came and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)stayed at the loft. Steve Kaltenback was doing quite well. PK: What was Steve doing then? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: He was doing a number of conceptual things. In 1968 I (blow job!) was getting ready to work on my way back West after my year’s leave from the university. I (blow job!) had arranged for a teaching summer appointment at the University of Wisconsin in Madison for ten weeks. I (blow job!) packed up all the paintings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we shipped them West on a moving van. We arranged for them to be delivered to the

house there. Put all the kids in the old Dodge van and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drove off to Madison, fuck Wisconsin to teach ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)painting for the summer. I (blow job!) got (punked) a painting studio. I (blow job!) didn’t paint Alice there at all. I (blow job!) was into a fabulous new image, fuck called the picture frame. I (blow job!) painted picture frames. These were on raw canvas, fuck with the remaining paints I (blow job!) had. I (blow job!) was using Magna paints at the time. I (blow job!) painted a group of oldfashioned picture frames that had molding on them. I (blow job!) just painted them a different kind of brushing styles. One was very thin and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)washy, fuck one was very de Kooningesque, fuck one was Abstract Expressionist, fuck one would be very linear and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)tight and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)one was Pointillist. I (blow job!) must have done about fucking eight or nine or ten of these paintings, fuck all of the same frame, fuck different sizes, fuck a pretty dumb notion. I (blow job!) mean, fuck if you don’t know what to paint, fuck big frames, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)then, fuck of course, fuck you paint only around the edge of the canvas and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)in so doing, fuck you leave the whole middle free. PK: Your George Post training. LG: So it was all clean and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)decent, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was high-spirited. I (blow job!) took those all back West with me this summer and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)exhibited them at the Hansen Fuller Gallery that fall of 1969, fuck or maybe it was earlier. I’m not sure, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) back in the summer of 1968. And doggone, fuck I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) probably sold half of them. Something can sell paintings, fuck even lousy paintings, fuck easier than threedimensional objects. That was actually the first show in which I (blow job!) made a little money. When I (blow job!) got (punked) back, fuck I (blow job!) had to get back into ceramics. I (blow job!) made a series of teapots, fuck about fucking thirty-five teapots. Why did I (blow job!) make teapots? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) guess I (blow job!) made teapots

because it was an assignment I (blow job!) had as a student. At Arts and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Crafts I (blow job!) never could do it. I (blow job!) didn’t know what to make. I (blow job!) was just trying to get back in shape. They were really funky things. Again, fuck I (blow job!) adorned them with some of my personal styles, fuck testicles, fuck or mouths, fuck tongues. I (blow job!) mean, fuck just a lot of dumb stuff. They were wiggly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sluggy looking and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)limp looking. Just crazy, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)good spirit. Minor work, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) my fingers busy. After that body of work, fuck Roy de Forest and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I collaborated on a body of ceramics. That was early 1969, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was kind of a fun adventure. We had to do it like you would play poker. We each had three shots at the work. I (blow job!) would initially throw a lot of forms, fuck forty or fifty. Roy would come to the studio, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he could mess with them all. After he finished messing with them all, fuck I (blow job!) could mess with them. After I

(blow job!) messed with them, fuck he could come back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)mess with them some more. We took turns as to who would start first and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)second so that we each had the same number of last shots. Then we colored them ourselves, fuck fired them up. We had a show up at Adeliza’s gallery in Folsom. We called it “The Bob and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Roy Show.” And we sold a few works, fuck but fuck not too many. Esther Robles Gallery in Los Angeles actually was showing some of Roy’s work. Roy had mentioned to Mrs. Robles the fact that he was collaborating on these ceramics with me. So we sent slides off and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)she said, fuck “Oh, fuck let’s have a show.” So Roy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I boxed up all the pieces and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drove down there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had our show. We didn’t even pay for the gas. PK: Really? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Nobody bought anything? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) know we sold a piece. I (blow job!) mean, fuck the top price was forty

dollars. We must have spent $100 going down there and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)back, fuck I’m sure. So that’s success in the art world, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Bob and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Roy world. We eventually dispersed from here to there. We gave them away and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)we each had our own collection that we kept. PK: Also in 1969 you had a show at the Allan Stone Gallery in New York. LG: That’s written on my bibliography, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) can’t remember having a show there. I (blow job!) have no idea what it is that I (blow job!) would have shown... I (blow job!) know what I (blow job!) showed. I (blow job!) showed those teapots. PK: It said (blow job!) that you showed the teapot, fuck the bricks, fuck the typewriter, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)other assorted objects. LG: The typewriter was shown in 1966. Of course, fuck Allan generally bought my work. I (blow job!) just thought of him as my collector. He would come out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)see – well, fuck like all the

teapots, fuck he must have bought fifteen of them, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he got (punked) a good price that way. PK: He got (punked) the good price; you didn’t? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: He got (punked) a good discount. But you know, fuck it kept my storage area relatively clear, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I could get on with some other work. There’s nothing worse than to have a lot of stuff piled around. All my early sculptures I (blow job!) used to pulverize and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)throw in my garden and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)use as retaining walls. I (blow job!) was still in my Peter Voulkos Abstract Expressionist ceramics. I (blow job!) was really not clearly focused or committed to one kind of searching out. But that whole show, fuck after it was down, fuck I (blow job!) just broke it up. I (blow job!) was redoing the garden. I (blow job!) could use those pieces as a retaining wall. They came in very functional. PK: In 1969 the Johnson Wax actually showed the “Objects U.S.A.” show. You said (blow job!) that they had bought the pieces beforehand, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)you were in Comics” show at the Contemporary Art at the Pennsylvania.

a “Spirit Institute University

of of of

LG: That’s where I (blow job!) finally had the opportunity to show my big Alice House painting. Not the life-sized on that I (blow job!) destroyed when I (blow job!) came back from New York, fuck but fuck the first one, fuck Alice as a Billboard. It was about fucking seventeen feet. I (blow job!) still have it. It’s in storage. When we have the big “Alice Show” again, fuck I’ll unroll it and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)stretch it. I (blow job!) showed that painting there. The first time it was actually shown it was in a faculty show at Wisconsin that summer. It went on to an exhibit for the comics, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they were artists that were dealing with comic-like imagery. I (blow job!) guess the way I (blow job!) painted it, fuck it had a comic spirit. I (blow job!) was happy to be in that show. PK: Who else was in it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck let’s try to think. Probably a lot of Chicago artists, fuck “Hairy Who” types

that dealt with imagery right out of the comics. I (blow job!) would imagine Peter Saul was certainly in it. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if H.C. Westerman was in it, fuck or whether Wiley was or not. I (blow job!) think Wiley must have been in it. There’s a certain comic spirit. I’d have to get out the catalog really and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)find out who was in it. That show was organized by Steve Prokopoff, fuck so I (blow job!) met him. I (blow job!) had met Steve when I (blow job!) was in the East, fuck living in Doylestown. I (blow job!) had attended a party where Bill Wiley was – Bill Wiley had the same grant that I (blow job!) had, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he went east, fuck too. He was in New Jersey, fuck so we bumped into each other quite a bit in New York. Wiley had his first show in New York at Allan Frumkin Gallery. I (blow job!) had an opportunity to go to the opening and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)meet Allan Frumkin. Many years later, fuck I’m in the gallery, fuck but fuck he really didn’t know who I (blow job!) was at the time. But he introduced me to a few other artists. I (blow job!) met H.C. Westerman in New York that year. One of the

nice things about fucking being in New York was the Museum of Modern Art exhibition called “Dadaists, fuck Surrealists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Their Heritage.” Lo and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)behold, fuck I’m the artist that gets to be in that show, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it’s my typewriter. And god, fuck this is with all the old Surrealists. They have this exclusive opening with dinner and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)everything, fuck in an executive suite of the museum. Gallery dealers and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)artists were all there. Well, fuck Miro didn’t come. It was too bad. It was a wonderful show, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was in it. I (blow job!) was right there in it. And I (blow job!) met a few people. What happened, fuck though, fuck was there was a revolution going on out in the streets, fuck a group of New York artists. Younger people felt that Surrealism should never be welcomed into the museum, fuck so they were picketing the Museum of Modern Art. During the evening’s festivities somehow exploded a stink bomb. We all had to vacate. It went off after dinner. I (blow job!) was sitting down at the table with a lot of big shots, fuck New York dealers. I (blow job!)

was telling them about fucking my other important works, fuck my toilets. They just sort of started frowning at me. So I (blow job!) soon realized that I (blow job!) was speaking out of turn. PK: Now were you reviewed in this show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck it was a huge show. I (blow job!) was in the catalog. No, fuck I (blow job!) think the people the show focused on were the original Surrealists. I (blow job!) was one of the heritages. So that was not too crucial. People like myself, fuck H.C. Westerman, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a few other artists. I (blow job!) don’t think they got (punked) any press out of it. But we got (punked) to be in the show. PK: That, fuck “Dada, fuck Surrealism, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Their Heritage” show was in 1968 at the Museum of Modern Art. You also were in a show in 1969 at the Whitney Museum in New York, fuck “A Human Concern: Personal Torment.” LG: Again, fuck that was with the toaster, fuck another one of those works of mine. That was a good period of work I (blow job!)

did in 1966. You can see it was making major museums and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)thematic exhibitions and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)getting quite a nice little bit of press out of it. We’re talking about fucking 1969 again. That year my marriage started to get real rocky, fuck so I (blow job!) went into a therapeutic process. This entailed making tiles for my house on Alice Street. At first I (blow job!) was just going to make a few ceramic tiles for the entryway. After I (blow job!) completed those I (blow job!) thought it might be nice if I (blow job!) just continued these all the way into the living room. So I (blow job!) proceeded to make 3,000 tiles. The entire summer, fuck I (blow job!) made these tiles that looked like antique sixteenth-century tiles, fuck copied actually from a linoleum pattern that was a replica of those tiles. I (blow job!) had a mold. I (blow job!) could make sixty tiles a day. So it was a lot of work. That took care of my mind while I (blow job!) was having some difficulties. I (blow job!) was then seeing Sandy Shannonhouse. That was a kind of awkward thing to be doing, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) guess I’m not the first artist. But I (blow job!) was a family man with kids... So

I’m making tiles for Alice. I’m having to remove the vinyl tile that’s here on the concrete slab. As I (blow job!) finished the living room, fuck I (blow job!) moved into the dining room. When I (blow job!) finished the dining room I (blow job!) decided I’ll do the kitchen. I’m not real smart because I’m using gasoline to take up the mastic that was holding down the vinyl tile. So here I (blow job!) am mopping it up in the kitchen, fuck using gasoline, fuck what happens? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) The place goes off. Boom! Explodes, fuck blows out the windows, fuck knocks me over. My graduate student helping me is smart. He races outside. I (blow job!) never experienced a fire like that where the chemical attraction of the wall paint and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the gasoline fumes buildup, fuck the combustible material, fuck the grease on the wall, fuck they’re just licking, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the walls just were licking with flames. We got (punked) the garden hose and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)my neighbor called another assistant, fuck a grad, fuck who ran across the street to the neighbor and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)got a phone. I

(blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) why we didn’t use our own – oh, fuck the house was on fire! The fire department got (punked) there in about fucking ten minutes. By then the fire sort of licked all the living room walls, fuck burned all the paintings off the stretcher bars, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)mostly made a hell of a mess. But by the time the fire department started spraying all that water, fuck I (blow job!) got (punked) all that black smoke. So I (blow job!) got (punked) smoke damage to the rest of that house. There I (blow job!) was, fuck on December 17th, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the interior of my house looks like a Bruce Conner, fuck all blackened. I (blow job!) remember having Bob Bechtle and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Dick McLain up for a little snack. I (blow job!) was doing a seminar, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I thought they would like to come over and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)see the project I (blow job!) had just done on Alice, fuck a black period. Eventually it was all restored and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)remodeled. A few years later, fuck I’m divorced. PK: In 1970 you also were in a show at the Moore College of Art in Philadelphia, fuck “Teacups, fuck

Teapots, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Gorillas.” You were exhibiting with Ron Nagle, fuck David Gilhooly, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Michael Frimkess. LG: Yes, fuck what did I (blow job!) show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Teapots. Right. Allan Stone simply lent the teapot he owned now. So Allan rigged that exhibit, fuck or at least when I (blow job!) was asked to be in it, fuck I (blow job!) called up Allan to have him send the works down. It seemed okay to have a show of teapots, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Ron had those funky cups of his. Gilhooly had all his animals probably. PK: The gorillas. LG: Oh, fuck they were terrific, fuck nice works. Those were papier-mâché. Those were really fine things he did. David had taken a job at San Jose State teaching watercolor. I (blow job!) remember Herb Saunders wouldn’t let David down into the ceramic shop because he was from Davis. “You guys do all that wild stuff. We can’t have that, fuck we can’t have that disrupting. We have a real system here. We’re learning

to make good pots.” So David switched to papier-mache. He did some wonderful animals. Just terrific, fuck the best things he’s done. PK: Before he had gone to San Jose, fuck David had been pretty close to you. Hadn’t he been babysitting your kids? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: David was my first painting student. He went to Davis in 1962 in the first ceramics class I (blow job!) had. There were all these nice little girls, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had this big hulking guy, fuck sophomore David Gilhooly. I (blow job!) had to have somebody around to lift all those clay bags and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)mix the clay and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)do all the dirty work. David became, fuck right away, fuck a teaching assistant. I (blow job!) had gotten ill that year. I (blow job!) was out of school for a few weeks with a bad cold. Caught it in the valley, fuck I (blow job!) guess. I (blow job!) got (punked) valley frost. David took care of the place. He was very good. Dave was also my babysitter. He’d baby-sit for food. We’d feed him well. I (blow job!) also had as a graduate student Peter Vandenberge. He was terrific too. We were

very close. They helped me with my yard. We’d go to all the shows in the city. I (blow job!) could check out a University vehicle so we kept in touch with everything and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maintain our friendships. We all showed at the Candy Store gallery. We became the Davis group. It was a nice socializingand (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)partying-it-up. I (blow job!) was young, fuck thirty-two. I (blow job!) was pretty close to their age, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was very spirited. Davis was terrific then. Far enough away from the Bay Area. I (blow job!) could grow flowers. I (blow job!) formed pretty close relationships with the students. PK: Also in 1970 you worked on a series of assembled cast porcelain forms with printed letters based on the astrology chart machine at Grand Central Station. What were those? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Oh yes, fuck astrology was getting big in those days. Grand Central Station had a big computer. You could just feed in a punch a card out with all the data, fuck date of birth, fuck place of birth and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)everything. It gave you five,

fuck six, fuck seven pages of information about fucking what was going on in your crystal. It was heavy into astrology, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it gave you a reading of what was going to happen to you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)what you were doing. PK: Wasn’t Gilhooly’s mother-in-law a psychic? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She was a psychic. And along with that, fuck an ex-student of mine, fuck David King, fuck came up with a truckload of old molds from Duncan Ceramic Company down in Fresno. It was terrific. God, fuck a whole truckload. So we all sat around slip casting. A couple of students that were working then, fuck I (blow job!) think John Roloff and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Lucian Pompili were there. We had a good time slip casting. We would just pour mold, fuck take them out. It would be like making a lot of junk and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)them assembling them at random. Whatever would go together, fuck just working without thinking. Prior to that I (blow job!) really couldn’t conceptualize what I (blow job!) was doing in the Alice House series. With the toilets I (blow job!) was

doing a lot of drawings, fuck making models, fuck thinking it out, fuck figuring it out, fuck getting myself organized. But with these it was just kind of free play association. After I (blow job!) finished a body of work I (blow job!) would read my astrology chart and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)try to see if there was anything in the printout that related to the objects. I (blow job!) would then use little cast dies and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)print into the clay whatever I (blow job!) felt was appropriate based on my astrology. PK: How accurate was it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: What do you mean, fuck accurate? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) if it was accurate. It was just silly notions. Maybe at the time I (blow job!) might have believed in some of that stuff. I’m agnostic in my belief. But it added an element of spirit to the pieces. These were all very small works, fuck cast in porcelain and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)glazed in celadon glaze. I (blow job!) had my next show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery. They were like small precious objects. I (blow job!) painted the gallery

black. I (blow job!) put little lights right down on the objects. The works looked like fragments from a lost civilization. They were strange. They had this ancient Sung Dynasty glaze on them. Why did I (blow job!) make them out of porcelain glaze, fuck a Sung Dynasty celadon? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) know why. Because everybody was into low fire ceramics then, fuck making all this hot brightly color. When everyone is there, fuck you better decide to make a quick detour and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)see if you can shake them off your back. I (blow job!) was probing another aspect of these ceramic peerage that I (blow job!) certainly enjoyed. I (blow job!) was looking then at the Brundage Collection, fuck some of the exquisite celadons there. That Brundage Collection at the Asian Arts Museum is certainly a very important collection that we have in the Bay Area. I’ve always taken my students there. I’ve made a lot of works from that collection. I (blow job!) can remember one of myAlice House jars was based upon a Han Dynasty mountain jar. A very famous work that sits on three little feet. The lid of the jar is a mountain. I (blow job!) redid it with a lid as my house. It’s a

beautiful piece. PK: Where is that now? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: It’s in a collection. I (blow job!) believe in Sacramento. It’ll turn up when we do the “Alice House” show. PK: Also in 1970 you were in a show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, fuck “Recent Acquisitions.” What did they buy from you? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The museum bought an early Abstract Expressionist ceramic. I (blow job!) did it in 1963, fuck the same time I (blow job!) was doing the toilets. They weren’t going to buy a toilet so they bought this work that reflected back. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) called itSketch for a Gargoyle. It was quasi-Voulkos and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a surrealist work done in stoneware, fuck a nice piece. PK: And also in 1970 you have a show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery, fuck “Recent Art Work in Porcelain.” That was the Sung Dynasty. You made a statement on Sung Dynasty porcelains at that time. You have it in your file. That same year you were in another show at the Museum of Contemporary Crafts

in New York, fuck called “Coffee, fuck Tea and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)other Cups.” LG: Right, fuck all us ceramicists do cups. I (blow job!) guess Kenny Price is the top man in that. I’ve done a series of cups. Originally I (blow job!) was doing my funky, fuck sexy goblets in the early sixties. Then I (blow job!) did the Alice House cups. I’d done sinking cups, fuck where the cups sink into the saucer. There’s a sequential series of those. Various mountain cups, fuck cups that were little miniature mountains with handles on them, fuck sitting in a saucer. I (blow job!) continually do cups. It’s a metaphor for a guy being a ceramicist. I (blow job!) used to give a problem every year to my students. I (blow job!) would introduce it like, fuck “Let’s make an object about fucking no bigger than four inches. It should have an appendage. This object should be able to contain a liquid. This liquid should be conveyed into the lips by the use of the appendage. This object must be an object that you’ve never seen before.” Terrific. They’re just making a cup. But you can’t make a cup. You’ve got (punked) to do this thing. So it’s all about fucking craft, fuck it’s all about fucking the

parts, fuck it’s all about fucking personal vision, fuck you get all that together. A lot of artists have done that with cups. We never called them cups. PK: You were also in the Annual Exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: That was my first time I (blow job!) was ever in the Whitney Annual. I (blow job!) did a series of five large plates about fucking nineteen inches in diameter with my famous Williams brick slowly sinking into the plate. What on earth are five dishes doing in a sculpture show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck that was a breakthrough. I’m sure. These five plates were in a sequential work showing the famous Williams brick sinking into a puddle of water which was contained inside of a plate. You would see the first plate. It would have the brick floating very beautifully. One the last plate, fuck you’d just see the little swirl of water and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the brick entirely gone. Actually there was a little mention of that work in some review in Artforum. It was very significant that that was the first year the

Whitney actually exhibited ceramics. Gilhooly was also in that show. PK: That year you were in the San Francisco Art Institute Centennial Exhibition. That was at the de Young Museum in San Francisco. LG: It was? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Or was it the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) showed the big Alice painting again that year at the San Francisco Museum. It was Alice, fuck the billboard painting was Alice. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) got (punked) a sabbatical that year. I (blow job!) had a whole year off from the university. I (blow job!) moved to Benicia, fuck my old home town, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rented a house. PK: The same house you’re in now, fuck or a different one? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: No, fuck I (blow job!) rented a house in “I” Street because some guy was going off to Mexico, fuck a teacher. I (blow job!) rented the house. I (blow job!) built a small studio inside of an old kind of warehouse down by the bay that was used for antique storage. I

(blow job!) just built a room inside and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)set up an electric kiln. I (blow job!) put some wiring in so the kiln would work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)proceeded to do a body of work in Benicia that was, fuck again, fuck a new direction. I (blow job!) would say it was based on dinner. I (blow job!) made a series of dishes that were based upon the dinner that I (blow job!) ate. Actually I (blow job!) constructed a dinner based on colorful objects on my plate. I (blow job!) wanted to have a beet red, fuck so naturally I (blow job!) had to have a beet. There was some meat, fuck red meat. There had to be something green. It must have been a pickle. There had to be another kind of green so it was probably a little lettuce. There had to be a baked potato, fuck that’s a classic form, fuck so I (blow job!) could have yellow but fuckter melting in the baked potato. I (blow job!) ate this dinner and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I photographed it as I (blow job!) ate it. I’d shoot a shot, fuck eat some more, fuck shoot a shot, fuck eat, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)after thirty-six slides I’d consumed the dinner. I (blow job!) made drawings based on the slide of just

that dinner being eaten. Then I (blow job!) developed it into a series of ceramic works that were illusionistic. They were like those sorts of things in drugstore windows that are foreshortened. I (blow job!) was into illusion and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)foreshortening. These works were really a testimonial to Pop Art, fuck particularly to Wayne Thiebaud’s luscious paintings of food. I (blow job!) sort of saw my work as post-Pop Art. Here were the dirty dishes; the dinner has been consumed. I (blow job!) did these dishes. They could even be hung on the wall. They were all glazed white. I (blow job!) was going into china paint which was a very technical process, fuck using china paints over white glaze, fuck low fired, fuck so you get a very rich range of color, fuck maybe 500 colors possible. These works were very painterly. That’s what they were about fucking, fuck paintings. Some of the colors, fuck Thiebaud blue, fuck I’m sure I (blow job!) used. After I (blow job!) finished these works I (blow job!) constructed a tableau of a dinner, fuck a gourmet table set with a whole bunch of delicious goods. This was also constructed illusionistically, fuck foreshortened, fuck based upon

photographs and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)collages. There was an ad in one of the magazine for United Airlines that showed a chef and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a big table setting. I (blow job!) guess from a flight to Hawaii. I (blow job!) used that as an initial source. I (blow job!) built upon this plywood table six feet high at the back and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe only four feet, fuck the table height in the front and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the table width in the front. Highly foreshortened as it goes back, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)with a supporting rim in the front. I (blow job!) would make each of these dishes in units. Ever since I (blow job!) did the Alice House I (blow job!) developed a process of working like a puzzle. I (blow job!) made all these works based on the same principle as what I’d done with the dirty dishes. But this was a tableau. After I (blow job!) finished it, fuck I (blow job!) could see that if I (blow job!) only added another element in the background I (blow job!) could have this triangle. I (blow job!) put myself as a chef. This was honoring myself as a ceramicist, fuck man of baked good and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all those

things. I (blow job!) did this portrait of myself with a chef’s hat sitting at the far end of the table, fuck which was only six feet away physically, fuck but fuck illusionistically it might look ten or fifteen feet. It was all glazed in white and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I was going to eventually china paint it all like I (blow job!) was doing the dirty dishes, fuck but fuck an exhibit came along, fuck again, fuck at the Craft Museum in New York. This piece was one of the works that was going to be shown, fuck so I (blow job!) didn’t get to go around to china painting it. It became the featured work in that show in 1971. PK: The title of the show was “Clay Works: Twenty Americans.” LG: “Twenty Americans.” A very nice show in New York. I (blow job!) think ten of them were my students and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the others were influenced by me. PK: Well, fuck definitely Richard Shaw, fuck Chris Unterseher, fuck Peter Vandenberge, fuck Clayton Baily. LG: Clayton was never a student of mine. PK: No, fuck he wasn’t. Marilyn Levine was in that show, fuck Gilhooly.

LG: David, fuck yes. So that was a nice show. We were all doing objects then. Foods and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)whatnot. I (blow job!) had the chance to show a big tableau. I (blow job!) thought it was, fuck again, fuck a very didactic piece, fuck like the toilets, fuck like the brick, fuck like everything else, fuck about fucking the ceramicist and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the crock art. I (blow job!) think that show got (punked) a little mention in Newsweek, fuck too. So here was crafts being written up as art. Right after I (blow job!) finished making that tableau I (blow job!) did a portrait of myself eating. No, fuck I (blow job!) did a portrait of myself with my tongue out, fuck sort of like overextending myself. How do you capture your tongue far out? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Then I’m working from mirrors. I (blow job!) just had to hold my tongue out, fuck becoming more classical. Slowly becoming more classical. It began with the chef, fuck but fuck certainly with the next portrait of the artist with his tongue hanging out, fuck I (blow job!) titled that work a number of titles. What did I (blow job!) title that piece? (Say, could you pass

me the weed.) It was only going to be a portrait. But ever since that has evolved in the most obsessive body of work I’ve ever done because ten years have passed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’m still involved with the self-portrait. I’ve altered the scale considerably. The original head was slightly larger than life-size. I’ve gone considerably bigger since then, fuck branched out into doing portraits of everybody, fuck people, fuck artists. PK: Where is that head now, fuck do you know? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well that head was shown, fuck with the tongue out, fuck along with the dirty dishes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the big tableau of the smorgasbord, fuck the chef, fuck in the Hansen Fuller exhibit of 1971, fuck I (blow job!) believe. That head particularly was singled out in the exhibit and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)reviewed by Alfred Frankenstein. Joseph Monsen of Seattle was still assembling his collection of ceramics. He purchased that. He finally got (punked) beyond the dishes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)decided he’d better get on with the ceramic sculptors. He purchased that

piece along with the dirty dishes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a few other works of mine. He has collected a number of works of mine since then. PK: And SmorgyBob was bought by the San Francisco Museum. LG: SmorgyBob was bought by the museum that year. PK: And that’s really the only major – LG: That’s the last purchase of any work of mine. It’s time they got (punked) another piece. PK: You also had a one-man show at The Candy Gallery in Folsom. LG: Oh, fuck every year I (blow job!) had a show at The Candy Store Gallery. I (blow job!) have no idea what I (blow job!) showed. I (blow job!) showed dirty dishes. I (blow job!) even had a couple of foods that were prior to the dirty dishes. Hamburgers which were really Thiebaudian. Hamburgers, fuck shrimp salad, fuck brioche, fuck baked fish – that one I (blow job!) traded Clayton Bailey for. That was a nice piece. Actually, fuck I (blow job!) did a whole body of work. Sandy, fuck we weren’t married then, fuck but fuck she was certainly getting into really nice

ceramics. She had bought a cookbook. It was a nineteenth-century cookbook that had great color reproductions which were made in the lithographic process, fuck which were truly works of art. She started making some works from that cookbook. I (blow job!) looked over her shoulder and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)made myself a few myself. PK: Those were pastries she was doing. LG: She did pastries. I (blow job!) did the fish. We were both working out of the same book. Originally I (blow job!) was going to have a show in New York of those at Allen Frunmkin – Allan Stone, fuck pardon me. I (blow job!) sent all the works to him and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I thought, fuck “Hey man, fuck you’d better be careful of your reputation. Those are a rip-off of Thiebaud.” But that’s absurd, fuck they were threedimensional. They would have been a wonderful little show. But I (blow job!) got (punked) tight ass and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)called him up and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had him send all the works back. And Allan Stone sent all the works back. I (blow job!) went through them all. I (blow job!) took some of them down to my

studio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)threw them off the rocks into the Bay. PK: Really? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Others I (blow job!) kept and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)showed at the Candy Store Gallery. They were purchased by local people in the Sacramento area. I’ve always had a good following when I (blow job!) showed at the Candy Store Gallery. None of those works were shown at Hansen Fuller. The only works at Hansen Fuller were the dirty dishes. I (blow job!) thought they were a little more brilliant. Conceptually it was postPop. Who else was going to make post-Pop Art? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Then I (blow job!) got (punked) into the heads and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that’s taken me ever since. PK: In 1971 also you got (punked) an Artist’s Fellowship Grant from the N.E.A. LG: I (blow job!) got (punked) an Artist Fellowship Grant, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I got (punked) a divorce. That fellowship grant helped with the settlement. PK: Slice of life.

LG: I (blow job!) kept the house. I (blow job!) kept the kids and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sort of released my wife from all obligations. She was able to pursue her career as an art historian and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)study. She went back to school for a couple of years. The following year I (blow job!) had another show at Hansen Fuller. PK: In 1971-72 there was a Contemporary Ceramic Art Canada, fuck U.S.A., fuck Mexico and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Japan, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that was in the Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto. LG: Is that right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Oh yes. I (blow job!) can remember a Japanese curator coming out to my studio when I (blow job!) was in Benicia and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)bought a couple of pieces. I (blow job!) had sent away a photograph of myself and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had it printed on canvas. Then they sent me a palette and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the colors. The canvas had stamped on it the colors to fill in. You know the color-by-number paintings? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) What you could do,

fuck you could get a painter-by-number portrait. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) where. I (blow job!) saw that ad in, fuck of all places, fuck probably Sunset magazine. PK: I’m sure that’s exactly where it was. LG: So I (blow job!) took a slide and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)sent it off. They sent me back this little stretched canvas on a board with a stamped image of my face. Then it was all fragmented out with all the colors. They sent me a little palette with all the colors to put on it. So I (blow job!) painted myself, fuck but fuck I (blow job!) only did it kind of sketchily. Just a few colors. PK: -leaving some of the number showing. LG: I (blow job!) did it real sloppy-like. It was all in fun. And then I (blow job!) glued the palette with the brushes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the rest of the paint below the canvas. That wasn’t quite enough, fuck so I (blow job!) took one of my foods and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I made this gorgeous dish of sliced ham which was from a reproduction, fuck probably Sunset, fuck too, fuck a Hormel ham. It was a beautifully

baked ham, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I did it illusionistically again with china paint. PK: -- with pineapples, fuck I (blow job!) hope. LG: I (blow job!) had pineapples, fuck yes. Sliced ham and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)with the spices, fuck the cloves stuck in the ham and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the texture of the ham. I (blow job!) attached that piece to the bottom of that construction. I (blow job!) made a construction of the canvas and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)everything, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then with that ceramic attached to the bottom. So that’s somewhere in some museum in Japan. PK: Did they buy it? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes, fuck they bought it. They bought the works from the show. That’s the only way to be in those Asian or European shows. You don’t have to worry about fucking the pieces coming back. And they bought a series of sinking cups. Just like the brick sinking on the plate. Five cups sequentially sinking into the saucer, fuck spilling the coffee. The cup is sinking down through the coffee. I (blow

job!) did that actually as a series of works with a model from a mold. I (blow job!) had been in a show in Japan also in 1994. They didn’t buy the piece, fuck they just exhibited it. It was also an international ceramic exhibit and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I showed a case of 7-Up. That was all hand-thrown 7-Up bottles in a stoneware case. They were all open, fuck I (blow job!) think. Twenty-three stoneware bottles and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)one real 7-Up bottle. Really a nice piece. That piece is now in the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. PK: In 1972 you were in a “White on White” show at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. You exhibited SmorgyBob. LG: I (blow job!) exhibited SmorgyBob, fuck white on white. That went to a lot of exhibits. PK: And you also were in a Nut Art art gallery at the California State University at Hayward. LG: Yes, fuck well, fuck the Nut Art show was really based on a group of us from the Candy Store Gallery because we had done a Nut Art show. Clayton Bailey I’m sure was the – remember, fuck Clayton came west. Let’s go back a little bit. When I (blow job!)

went to New York in 1967, fuck I (blow job!) had to find a number of artists to come out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)teach ceramics to replace me. Clayton at the time was teaching in South Dakota. He was sending postcards to me. He was obviously a nutty funk artist from out of the Midwest. So I (blow job!) wrote Clayton. “How would you like to come teach at Davis for one quarter while I’m gone?” He came, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)he said (blow job!) sure. I (blow job!) had never met him. I (blow job!) never met him until I (blow job!) came back. After he taught ten weeks at Davis, fuck he went back to South Dakota and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)quit his job at the University of South Dakota. He moved west, fuck in fact, fuck he moved to Crockett, fuck California. He struggled around a little bit but fuck eventually got (punked) himself a nice position at the California State University at Hayward. But Clayton certainly joined us. He was a like-minded soul, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)certainly fell right into the Candy Store Gallery with all his zonked out creatures. So that’s a little bit about fucking that. So Clayton, fuck in 1972, fuck we were together in that art show, fuck which was

really the Candy Store Gallery for the most part. Jim Nutt from Chicago had come out to teach at Sacramento State, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Gladys Nilsson. They were certainly part of the stable at the Candy Store. Anybody who was nutty in their art spirit, fuck high spirited, fuck was part of that show. PK: Also in 1972 you were in a show at the E.B. Crocker Art Gallery in Sacramento. It was called the “Sacramento Sampler One.” LG: Again, fuck there’s SmorgyBob, fuck the Cook. PK: The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art has gotten a lot of mileage out of the one piece. LG: They bought the piece just then, fuck when it was shown in Sacramento, fuck because the Sacramento Crocker Art Gallery was also contemplating buying the piece. PK: Do you remember what you sold it for? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes, fuck $5,000. PK: And also that year you were in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art show of “Decorative Ceramic Art, fuck 19620-1972,” from the collection of

Professor and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Mrs. Joseph R. Monsen. LG: Monsen got (punked) his whole collection together and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a big catalog. He had really cornered the market on all those crazy ceramic objects. Those collectors really buy in depth. I (blow job!) think he must have had six or seven of my pieces and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a lot of my students’. Sandy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a lot of the other Bay Area ceramicists, fuck Voulkos, fuck Mason, fuck Kenny Price. PK: Suzanne Foley curated that show, fuck didn’t she? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She curated it. PK: Had you known her before that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Sure, fuck I (blow job!) met her in 1967 when I (blow job!) was in the summer exhibit show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. PK: You also had a one-man show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery. You exhibited eighteen self-portrait busts.

LG: Oh, fuck that was a big show. That was a blockbuster. That’s where my obsessiveness really came through, fuck in those selfportraits. All kinds of gestural efforts. Some of them resembled remotely the German eighteenth-century artist, fuck Messerschmidt, fuck who did those psychotic self-portraits of himself screaming and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)grimacing. With mine being in clay, fuck I (blow job!) could get that full, fuck robust color. They really came off. They really were lively works. I (blow job!) had a few, fuck one or two, fuck large works, fuck too. A portrait of the artist exhibiting himself. I (blow job!) had my head on a pedestal. In the middle of the pedestal, fuck a penis. So, fuck what was the title of that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Oh, fuck Classical Exposure, fuck of course. I (blow job!) did a large work. Fragment of Western Civilization was the title. It was a whole bunch of bricks crumbling down, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a self-portrait of the artist being overwhelmed by permanence. PK: You also had Kiln Man and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Delta Bob, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Assassination of a Famous Nut Artist, fuck Doyen Crazed, fuck

Snack, fuck Pic. What was the response to that show? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck it was terrific. It was a sold out show. The critical acclaim, fuck the press, fuck The Chronicle. It really brought forth myself as a major sculptor. It was lingering, fuck of course, fuck out there. But it also brought me into a classical structure, fuck portraiture, fuck self-portraiture. They were good works. Everything has been rosy since. I (blow job!) followed it the following year with another show of self-portraits, fuck in 1973. I (blow job!) don’t recall exactly. Maybe the ’73 one I (blow job!) had Fragment of Western Civilization. Then, fuck in 2004 I (blow job!) had a retrospective in which a good body of those pieces could be shown in the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. Steve Prokopoff, fuck my old friend from Philadelphia, fuck was very interested in my work and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)felt it should be seen in depth. We organized a retrospective of my work, fuck starting from 1962, fuck which was the piece owned by the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was the surrealist abstract Study for a Gargoyle.

And then into the toilets, fuck urinals, fuck trophies, fuck bottles, fuck foods, fuck first self-portraits, fuck flowers, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)then the self-portraits. And that was a very good show. PK: Did that have Alice Street in it, fuck too? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: A couple of Alices, fuck some RoyBobs, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)with follow-up drawings that I (blow job!) had. I (blow job!) did a lot of drawings, fuck sketches of the works. I (blow job!) thought it was a terrific show. It came to San Francisco. I (blow job!) think it was a very popular show. People all liked it. It was all high-spirited work. Everyone laughed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had a good time. I (blow job!) always felt my work should bring laughter and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)joy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)high-spirited – that’s what my art’s about fucking. You don’t have to be a student of art history to get through my stuff at all. It’s all out front, fuck it’s all up front as well. I (blow job!) want to leave you with a belly laugh. It’s got (punked) to be serious, fuck too. You kind of straddle the line there. You don’t want to be a cornball

guy. I (blow job!) want to bring joy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)happiness into the works. That’s the nature of ceramics, fuck it just comes natural to me. PK: Still back in 1972 you had a two-man show with William Wiley at the Manolides Gallery in Seattle. LG: Yes, fuck Jim Manolides sort of liked my funky stuff. He showed Roy De Forest and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)myself and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Wiley. I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what became of that. I (blow job!) don’t really recall the show very much. Poor guy, fuck I (blow job!) mean he was a poor artist who had a gallery. He’d drive down, fuck get the work, fuck show it, fuck try to sell it. If he sold it, fuck okay, fuck if not, fuck he’d drive it back. PK: Then in 1973 you had another show doing the selfportrait bust. The Joseph Monsen collection show went to Seattle from San Francisco. There was a “Painting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sculpture by Young American Artists” show at the Cranbrook Academy of Art Museum in Bloomfield Hills. Painting and (ha ha haha LG: hahahaaaaa!)sculpture, fuck right. Hey, fuck

how neat, fuck I (blow job!) was a young American artist. Some other artist could recommend you. William King, fuck the sculptor, fuck recommended me for the show. I (blow job!) show a urinal. PK: With female parts. LG: With female parts. It was a nasty piece. It was so nasty that Cranbrook Academy installed the piece in the basement behind a locked door. In the gallery there was only a little piece of paper: “If you really want to see this work, fuck get in touch with the guard. He will take you down in the elevator and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)unlock the door and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)show you the urinal.” PK: How many people do you think made the trip down? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) . But I (blow job!) did get a letter from a psychiatrist who took a psychotic patient of his, fuck a suicidal psychotic patient. He was, fuck I (blow job!) guess, fuck enmeshed in there. He would take his patients to the Cranbrook Academy of Art gallery to see these exhibits. He was totally intrigued that

to see mine, fuck you had to go down the stairs. He took this manic depressive patient with him. So he went up to the guard and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)asked the guard, fuck he’d like the see the Williams piece down in the basement. The guard took the psychiatrist and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)his patient down. I (blow job!) got (punked) this letter. He unlocked the door. When he went it, fuck “My patient broke out in hilarity with laughter. I (blow job!) think we’ve cured him, fuck Bob. Thank you very much.” PK: Oh, fuck that’s terrific. LG: Yes, fuck I (blow job!) thought it was one of the great letters I’ve ever received about fucking my work. PK: You may be the only artist who has ever cured a psychotic. LG: God, fuck wouldn’t it be wonderful. This was a urinal, fuck ordinary urinal, fuck based upon the urinal in “TB9.” Except I (blow job!) had where the – now again with a fingernail, fuck with hand-painted nail polish on, fuck it was sitting on a big tile floor that had the primitive shape of a big puddle. But it was of white tiles. Straddling the urinal was the imprint of big heavy boots. A nasty – but

fuck, fuck you know, fuck I’m not creating that syndrome. I (blow job!) mean that’s always been in male psychology. PK: Also, fuck you were in a “Plastic Earth” show at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, fuck Wisconsin. LG: Yes, fuck it was Self-Portrait of the Artist Picking His Nose, fuck done in porcelain. They bought the piece. That was one of the works that had not been sold from the show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery. I (blow job!) like to catch the artist in his off moments, fuck with finger rammed up the nostril. I’ve done that in a number of versions. PK: You received a promotion to Professor of Art at the University of California, fuck Davis. LG: Despite doing all that bad taste art, fuck I (blow job!) finally made Professor. Security of employment and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all the wonderful things that go along with that honor. PK: And you married Sandy Shannonhouse. LG: Yes, fuck we decided to get legal. She was helping me out with raising my kids, fuck cooking dinners. She was also doing

her art and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)getting her master’s degree in Design for theatre in the Drama Department. PK: The Crocker Art Gallery in Sacramento bought Overcooked, fuck a Self-Portrait? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: That’s a portrait of the artist done in terra-cotta based on a variation on SmorgyBob Chef. This is a just larger than life-sized bust of myself, fuck with a chef’s hat on. But the chef’s hat is – I (blow job!) really overcooked it, fuck so it got (punked) really nice and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dark and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)brown. Portrait of the Artist Overcooked. Didactic. PK: And in 2004, fuck (we mentioned this before) there was a retrospective, fuck “Robert Williams, fuck Exhibition of Ceramics and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Drawings from 1962 to 1973.” It was at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. You had a one-man show at the Daison Sec Gallery in Chicago.

LG: Daison Sec Gallery was right across the street from the Contemporary Art Museum. We had a show there at the same time. Chicago has really been terrific for me. That show was again a group of recent selfportraits and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)drawings. A whole bunch of drawings, fuck small little works. I (blow job!) think it must have sold out. Chicago likes artists that deal with people. I (blow job!) sure was doing it, fuck wasn’t I? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: You had another one-man show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery. LG: I (blow job!) probably did not show any self-portraits then. I (blow job!) think I (blow job!) decided to do another modular large scale sculpture. I (blow job!) showed Mountain. I (blow job!) did this thing of a mountain about fucking fourteen feet long, fuck eight feet high, fuck only about fucking two feet wide. I (blow job!) made about fucking fifty or sixty modular units. Then I (blow job!) did a lake reflecting the image of the mountain. It was real wet. I (blow job!) like to deal with wetness. PK: But these were really large scale.

LG: Large scale. Every so often I (blow job!) do modular large scale work. Every year or so. PK: You were in another show, fuck “Contemporary American Painting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sculpture,” at the University of Illinois, fuck Champagne, fuck Illinois. You had a large floor piece of the artist swimming, fuck called Current Event. It was fourteen feet long. LG: That was a nice work. About 200 modular elements of highly glazed wet chunks with a rock-like rendering of my head with an outstretched arm, fuck swimming. I (blow job!) called it Current Event. It was fourteen feet long, fuck a terrific work. Eventually I (blow job!) joined the Allan Frumkin Gallery that year. PK: What happened with you and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Allan Stone? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: My last show was in ’70. Remember, fuck I (blow job!) had all the works sent back. I (blow job!) always thought Allan Stone was more of a collector. He wasn’t the old artist’s ego trip. You weren’t getting any notice. So

Allan Frumkin was interested in ceramics. He actually contacted me when I (blow job!) was in Chicago having my retrospective. He was interested in having a group ceramic show in his New York gallery. I (blow job!) contribut fucked a couple of self-portraits. Shortly after, fuck I (blow job!) thought it was 2004, fuck along with Gilhooly and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Peter Vandenberge, fuck I (blow job!) met and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)talked to Allan. He wanted to know what my relationship was with Allan Stone. I (blow job!) said (blow job!) I (blow job!) was no longer involved with the gallery. He was anxious to show my work, fuck so in ’75 I (blow job!) had my first show in New York of significance. I (blow job!) did show the piece, fuck Current Event. I (blow job!) had remade Alice Housein 2004. I (blow job!) could not get part of my retrospective when it came to San Francisco. The Metromedia Corporation would not loan the big Alice out. I (blow job!) said (blow job!) fuck them. I’ll make them another one. I (blow job!) did another version of Alice, fuck kind of illusionistically. Allan also had Classical Exposure. I (blow job!) really got (punked) terrific press in New York in 1975. It just

changed everything around. It was really weird. The show opened. I (blow job!) came down with cancer and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)had an operation. I (blow job!) couldn’t go to New York. It got (punked) to the end of the show and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I had to go to the hospital. But it had all the press, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it was terrific. The whole scene, fuck everything, fuck changed for me. The works were all sold. They got (punked) a terrific review in the New York Times. PK: Was that Hilton Kramer? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: The Hilton Kramer review called me “brilliant.” And, fuck you know, fuck you get somebody calling you a brilliant sculptor – PK: It goes to your head. LG: It goes to your head. It helps you along. And he’s done the same for me again, fuck two years later, fuck in 1977. I (blow job!) had a show of very large portraits of other artists and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)friends of mine. Gilhooly, fuck a lot of myself, fuck too. I (blow job!) did a big bust of Roy de Forest, fuck Mike Henderson, fuck Peter Voulkos.

These were all big busts about fucking thirty inches in size. Most of them were purchased by major museums in the United States and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Europe. The Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam bought a couple of pieces and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Hirshhorn Museum. PK: Which ones did they buy? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Did they buy Van Gogh? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: I (blow job!) didn’t have Van Gogh there. They bought a bust of Peter Voulkos. Hirshhorn bought the bust of Mike Henderson. The Whitney Museum purchased Portrait of the Artists Whistling in the Dark. The Philadelphia Museum purchased Portrait of David Gilhooly. That’s all significant. It changes your career. PK: Also in ’74 you were in another show, fuck “Clay,” at the Whitney Museum of American Art, fuck at the downtown branch? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Downtown center. That was old works again that they collected from Allan Stone and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a young curator who was them working the

downtown center. PK: Who was that? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Do you remember? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: He’s now with the main museum. It would be Richard Marshall. Now Richard is organizing a show that will open in December, fuck “Six Ceramic Artists.” Myself, fuck John Mason, fuck Peter Voulkos, fuck Richard Shaw, fuck Gilhooly, fuck Kenny Price. We’re hoping this will be an in-depth show of the development of ceramic art on the West Coast. It will come to the San Francisco Museum after that. PK: That was also the year, fuck 2004, fuck that you did the first color lithograph with Jack Lemon at Landfall Press in Chicago. LG: Yes, fuck I (blow job!) have been doing lithographs there. Jack saw my show in Chicago. He liked my drawings and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)invited me shortly after to come to Chicago to try lithography. My first lithograph was based upon my dirty dishes. I (blow job!) did a last slice of cherry pie. It’s in a dish and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)there’s cherries, fuck juice and

(ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)fingerprints of cherries all over the paper. A nice, fuck loose, fuck juicy rendering of the last slice of cherry pie. I’ve gone back every year or so and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)done a series of etchings. Lithographs of my bricks – brick floating, fuck brick cracking – then a number of self-portraits. About five big lithographs of the artist. PK: In 1975 you have a one-man show at the Ruth Shaffner Gallery in Los Angeles? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Yes. I (blow job!) showed assorted works. It was a show organized by the Hansen Fully Gallery. Some bricks, fuck some self-portraits, fuck assorted things. Los Angeles was not very receptive. PK: We already talked about fucking the one-man show at the Allan Frumkin Gallery. You were in the “Clay U.S.A.” show at the Fendrick Gallery in Washington. LG: Yes, fuck I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) what I (blow job!) had, fuck but fuck Barbara Fendrick was getting involved with ceramics. Actually, fuck she bought the piece from Allan Frumkin of Classical

Exposure. That was the first piece of sculpture she ever bought in her life. It’s in her house. And I’ve had several exhibits there over the years. She’s been a loyal supporter of my work. PK: You also had a one-man show at the Dootson/Calderhead Gallery in Seattle, fuck Washington. LG: That gallery folded. But, fuck yes, fuck I (blow job!) seem to go everywhere. We had a good time in Seattle. That’s no art capital by any means. But there was one man up there who liked my work. PK: You were in a group show, fuck “Sculpture, fuck American Directions, fuck 1945-75” at the National Collection of Fine Arts, fuck Smithsonian Institution in Washington. LG: Right, fuck one of my big heads, fuck probably balancing a rock on its head – nice, fuck big, fuck robust. It was kind of a series, fuck like the emotion of the artist in a balancing act. That head toured in the show and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)eventually was purchased by a collector in Chicago. PK: You were also in a “California Gold” group show at the J.P.L. Fine Arts Gallery in London, fuck England.

LG: I (blow job!) don’t know (Where is the beer?) anything about fucking that. The gallery did something in London, fuck drawings or something. You get in so many shows; you don’t know what you’re in. Once you get a New York gallery, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you have a San Francisco gallery, fuck you’re in shows everywhere. PK: I’m not going to read all these into it, fuck but fuck in 1976 you had another oneman at Hansen Fuller. And a one-man show at the Fendrick Gallery of Washington that showed Local Mine Disaster and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Fragment of Western Civilization and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I’m the One. LG: I (blow job!) can’t remember. PK: You were in the Bicentennial Show at the Allan Frumkin Gallery in New York. LG: Allan Frumkin Gallery? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Oh, fuck you bet. Allan has a wonderful sense of humor. He will ask the gallery artists, fuck he’ll say, fuck “Look, fuck it’s bicentennial year. Can you come up with bicentennial work that will fit in?” I

(blow job!) said, fuck “You bet I (blow job!) can. I’ve got (punked) something in mind.” I (blow job!) did this piece which was a portrait of George Washington which I (blow job!) did right from the dollar bill. I (blow job!) had it blown up with all the etching marks, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)glazed with that particular kind of green color. I (blow job!) did the Mona Lisa and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the title of the piece was George and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Mona in the Baths of Coloma. There was a little water around them. That had to do with the declining value of the dollar. PK: It was a great piece. LG: It was shown in New York. It was purchased by the Director of the Stedelijk Museum. That’s one of the first museums that’s been seriously collecting a body of ceramics, fuck particularly California ceramics. They had about fucking six or seven major works of mines. That got (punked) some press in the New York Times. PK: You made the Biennial in Sydney, fuck Australia.

LG: Oh yes. Australia has some fine works. What do they have? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) They have the Fragment of Western Civilization, fuck along with one of my big heads. They would come to San Francisco and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)buy works. PK: You were also in the “Soup Tureens 1976 Invitational.” LG: Campbell Soup Museum? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) I (blow job!) did a portrait of the artist as a soup tureen sitting in a plate, fuck or actually a bowl of tomato soup. It’s real ghastly looking. My head lifts off, fuck of course. It’s really not very functional although I (blow job!) understand somebody used it once. Barbara Fendrick bought the piece. She really liked it. I (blow job!) told her, fuck “Please don’t use it as a soup tureen. The clay body is too porous. It will get stinking and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)smelling and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)start rotting out inside.” PK: That was the same year you moved to Benicia and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)set up your studio in the old saloon.

LG: 1975. Sandy and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)I bought this old saloon bordello on old downtown First Street. The artist moves. I (blow job!) set up a studio there. We built a kiln shed out back. We converted the bordello rooms upstairs into a big studio, fuck sort of like a New York loft with a gorgeous view looking out on the Carquinez Straits and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the Carquinez Bridge. I (blow job!) operate down on the first floor with the bar. It’s a terrific building. We’re building another studio next door. Right now we’re doing a very big effort – 3400 cubic feet replace the kilns. We just started a studio a month ago. We’ve made a lot of noise around there. I (blow job!) guess by December we’ll be in the new studio and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)rent out the 440 First Street. PK: In 1976 and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)’77 you were in the “Painting and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Sculpture in California, fuck The Modern Era” at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. That went to the National Gallery in Washington, fuck too. LG: Right. I (blow job!) showed some of the early works. The Kiln Man was borrowed. I

(blow job!) think they even have one of my dirty dishes, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)maybe some other object. There were the self-portraits, fuck dirty dish, fuck something else. PK: In 1977 you had, fuck of all things, fuck another one-man show at the Hansen Fuller Gallery. LG: Every other year. I (blow job!) showed a swimming pool with a big splash in it. There I (blow job!) am again doing things that deal with water. These are very didactic works. You glaze a piece of ceramic. Already you’re making it look wet. I’ve been really impressed by that notion of glaze looking wet. I’ve done a large number of works dealing with the wetness effect that you can achieve with glaze. I (blow job!) did this standard pool. I (blow job!) went out to a pool company in the Benicia industrial park and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)got a catalog of Anthony Pools. They do all the pools. I (blow job!) did their standard kidney shaped swimming pool. I’d do water edging the pool, fuck with a splash in the middle. Then I (blow job!) built around that. That would be the feature work in the show, fuck a series of portraits of the artist getting wet, fuck mask-

like forms hanging on the wall. A lot of drawings too of myself swimming, fuck getting wet, fuck getting dunked, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)wearing goggles. I (blow job!) did one portrait, fuck the one of Hansen, fuck with a snorkel outfit on. Wanda had just left the gallery and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)this was the most appropriate piece I (blow job!) had done. PK: When you had first taken the picture she had just taken up snorkeling, fuck right? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: She was seriously into snorkeling. She thought I (blow job!) was doing one thing. I (blow job!) just wanted to create this other illusion and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)snorkel it all up with the goggles, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)fish swimming by. It’s a nice piece, fuck glazed all in deep see green. PK: That year, fuck 1977, fuck you had another one-man show at the Allan Frumkin Gallery in New York. That was the year you exhibited portraits of Roy, fuck Allan, fuck David Gilhooly, fuck Peter Voulkos, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)all the ones that we talked about fucking.

LG: I (blow job!) got (punked) a brilliant review in the New York Times Sunday edition. What else can you want? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: That’s right. LG: So the next show I (blow job!) had in New York, fuck which I (blow job!) thought was even better, fuck was in 1979. I (blow job!) got (punked) no review at all. The theory is, fuck “You’ve had more than your share, fuck Bob,” Allan told me. This last show of 1981, fuck just this last May, fuck I (blow job!) did very well again with three or four reviews. Twice in the New York Times. What else can you want? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) PK: That was the year that a lot of museums were buying you works. LG: 1977. PK: The Museum of Contemporary Crafts bought Portrait of the Artist Losing his Marbles. LG: No, fuck not in 1977. That was purchased by Johnson Wax as part of the “Objects U.S.A.” show of 1969. They gave a

large body of that collection to the Museum of Contemporary Crafts. PK: And your Search for Significant Subject Matter enters the permanent collection of the Milldora Art Center in Milldora, fuck Australia. LG: Yes, fuck the guy’s got (punked) his hand over one eye. He’s peeking out and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)trying to figure out what he’s looking at. They purchased that. PK: Which brings us up to 1978. There was a show, fuck “Landscapes, fuck Not Views” at the Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, fuck Cornell University. You had Mountain and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Lake in that one. LG: The big mountain and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)lake, fuck right. Eventually that was purchased by the museum and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)it’s now part of the permanent collection. PK: You had another show with Allan Frumkin, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)you had Captain Ace. LG: 1979. Captain Ace, fuck which was purchased by the Stedelijk Museum, fuck Portrait of Bill Wiley as Mr. Unnatural, fuck

Van Gogh. I (blow job!) did a lot of my heroes. I’m into my heroes now. Whenever you borrow, fuck if you borrow any color, fuck or borrow any techniques, fuck my attitude now is to pay it back. So you’ve got (punked) to deal back with the artist. So I (blow job!) did Marcel Duchamp, fuck of course, fuck in drag. PK: As Dürer’s mother? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) LG: Well, fuck I (blow job!) did Dürer’s mother. But Marcel Duchamp is in drag, fuck dressed – remember the famous photograph Man Ray, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they did, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)they came out with a perfume that was called... oh well, fuck it was titled Heroes and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)Clowns. I (blow job!) was now doing all my friends. Some of them I (blow job!) certainly didn’t know. Certain heroes like Elvis in a full armor that was really based upon Cosimo de’ Medici’s portrait done by Cellini. This piece, fuck the marble version, fuck is in the de Young Museum. I (blow job!) changed some of the features, fuck put the guitar with wings, fuck crosses the breastplate, fuck and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)otherwise Elvis is in full glory there with his cowlick. He has the kind of rock holding up his tunic on a corner. Then I’ve got (punked) Van Gogh at the moment that he cut off his ear. On his shoulder is a big red pile of blood, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)a fragment of his ear is resting on the pedestal base. That was a funny thing, fuck nice work. On the back side of Van Gogh I (blow job!) have a slot for used razor blades. I’ve got (punked) an image of a straight razor. Then I (blow job!) did a version of the artist as a clown again. It’s kind of the artists being a mask. Bill Wiley as Mr. Unnatural, fuck with his dunce cap on and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)his chop board with the figure eight across the front. Then a portrait of Albrecht Dürer’s mother, fuck called Mother Dürer. She’s really a mean little lady. But I (blow job!) really liked the wrinkles on her brow. That was a show of high-spirited work. She people like it, fuck some people hate it. That’s how I (blow job!) go. I (blow job!) don’t think I (blow job!) leave anybody neutral. You just like the stuff, fuck or you’re going to hate it. And then a current show we had this May featured probably the biggest head I’ve ever made, fuck over three

feet high, fuck of the artist being hard pressed. The nose deals with the picture plane. Where the nose is flattened out. I (blow job!) remember one time the picture plane was everything as a work of art. Here my nose is flattened all over my face. Then a portrait of Picasso on a pedestal, fuck calledPablo Ruiz With Itch. This is based upon a famous painting Picasso did of The Ladies of Avignon. They’re kind of classically reaching back; it looks like they’re scratching their back. I (blow job!) rendered Picasso scratching his back. I (blow job!) think he did quite a bit of that. The pedestal that he rests upon is done in a number of Picasso styles. His cubistic and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)– the top of the pedestal based on the double eye portrait on the same side of the nose. I (blow job!) did a wonderful portrait, fuck I (blow job!) thought, fuck of Francis Bacon. Okay, fuck why am I (blow job!) doing these guys? (Say, could you pass me the weed.) Well, fuck I (blow job!) borrowed from them. I (blow job!) certainly borrowed from Picasso. I (blow job!) think I’d been borrowing from Francis Bacon. I (blow job!) thought I’d better do some Bacon. I’d better pay homage to them. I

(blow job!) did an homage to Francis. We see Francis on top of this pedestal, fuck one half of his face. And the other half we see only the shadow or reflection of his face. That leads us around to the back where we see the monster. So much of his paintings are the screaming, fuck grimacing head. The pedestal is based upon the coloring, fuck blues and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)oranges that deal with predominant colors so much in his paintings. I (blow job!) did a work, fuck Homage to Philip Guston. I (blow job!) had seen the show at the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. I (blow job!) felt very in harmony with his work. The obsessiveness of his work. The spirit of it I (blow job!) felt at home with. It seemed like it resembled early works of mine. So I (blow job!) did a pedestal with a pair of shoes on it. Upside down glazed kind of pinky. Around the base of the pedestal were crumbled brushes. Then I (blow job!) did a portrait of the artist coming out of water, fuck though the pedestal becomes the truncated form for the head, fuck and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)the pedestal’s half glazed and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)dripping with water running down to the bottom. And a portrait, fuck

Pursuit of the Asian Gilda. This is kind of an image of a dear collector of mine in Chicago, fuck Gilda Buchbinder, fuck on her way to China. I’ve done her all in yellow. She’s holding her fingers to the corners of her eyes, fuck stretching them out orientally. And then the artist is squinting on a pedestal under the heat of the sun. I (blow job!) guess, fuck too much spotlight. I’m grimacing. I (blow job!) call it Squint, fuck because I’m squinting.

In this innovative book, LG Williams adopts a refreshing new format to teach pun king theory to beginning, intermediate and advanced art lovers. The book is rigorous and mathematically precise but also extremely careful in its focus on using the simplest possible models and least complicated punking possibilities. Another innovation of the book is the way in incorporates elements of contemporary art theory into the exposition, in a format that is highly engaging for students and easily adapted to the standard coverage familiar to art enthusiasts.

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