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Everhart in his Venice, California studio, 1999.
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Why is it that we are only aware of a profound influence through its retrospection, or, at best, during its evolution? In other words, it seems to be only with time, looking back, that one can clearly see what has taken place and to what affect it has had. Just imagine how helpful it would be if, along the motorways of one’s consciousness, there were signs that read, “Slow – Immense Influence Ahead” or “Yield To Oncoming Influence”. I do realize that influence will not knock upon the door to give notice of its arrival, but a doorbell would be nice – maybe chimes. Is part of its charm derived from unexpectedness? How do we explain to the children, eager for knowledge, that it will require all of their intuitive abilities to recognize it? If not, it may go undiscovered and undeveloped, unless and until we choose to focus on its importance. Maybe influence is so difficult to see at first, because its vitality has swept us along with irresistible momentum. Without a doubt, this is a very special time, and in its current is an inspirational wave that carries one period to an end as another period magically begins.
So, how does it happen?
Of course, it was a dark and stormy night (what else would one expect) with all of the usual suspects at play acting out their award winning roles of the famous unsavory east coast winters. The rusted buckets were activating a strong rhythm as they swallowed each intermittent raindrop as they fell from the ceiling, pretending to be waterfalls. But, not to be outdone, the hot water pipes, running horizontally underneath the old nineteenth century floor, were steaming away as if to be the mist rising from the waterfall. All of this was perfectly complemented by rattling shocked and determined windows moving to the beat of the argument between the freezing cold external air and the defending, hot internal air.
It was about 25 years ago, and I was standing barefoot in my east coast studio. Facing me was a large 20 X 25 foot white wall, with the exception of some splattered evidence of past works in progress. On this wall I was preparing to use an opaque projector to enlarge some Charles M. Schulz drawings. I was attempting to make them the familiar scale of my 20 foot skeleton paintings, of the past few years, for a deeper investigation. I was about to work on some presentation drawings, involving Peanuts, for a design group requiring them for a meeting at Charles Schulz' studio.
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