He is called LayercakNY but not really because his work is often in overlays one atop the other creating time warp and event specific references that drop kick nostalgia out of the octagon of depression. The experience of his art reminds me of shaving.
He’s an asshole, a bully, a hustler. “Everything you’ve heard about me is true,” Sullivan grinned. “And I’m worse than that.”
I don't mean the actual process of dragging a razor over my face, but in the meditative state the mind runs free -- or perhaps leisurely strolls...images and snippets of recollections arise from the mind's own recycle bin -- instances and conversations pile up on each other from the heavy "portable" Philco TV upon which I watched JOHNNY JUPITOR, SUPERMAN, CPN CY AND POPEYE, THE LATE SHOW, SHOCK THEATER ...Howdy Doody -- omg-- Buffalo Bob had a heart attack live from the NBC studio in NYC
His father was a detective in the bomb squad. and his mother the superintendent for a tenant building. They lived on 71st Street, near Lincoln Center Theater. The Amsterdam projects were down the block, along with poverty and crime. On the weekends, his mother sent him to stay with his grandmother near Gun Hill Road & Fordham in the Bronx.
and my brother's girlfriend comes out of his bedroom angry as hell, grabs a piece of fried chicken off the table and throws it at him....she misses and the chicken breast lands in my toy box .. not the big toy box that Uncle Phil made for me, but the smaller carboard one where I keep my little guys -- plastic and rubber cowboys... and hand puppets ...
"What British protectorate are you from, Mr. Barer?"
My mother.