AF_Art_v3

ALEX FRISHBERG:

Art Collection

1980-2015

© Alex Frishberg 2015

Table of Contents

Summary êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 5
I. St. Louis êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 9

John Lennon (1980) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 13
Valerie (1984) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 15
Pantomime on a Street Corner (1985) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê17
Saxophone Player I (1985) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê19
Predators (1985) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 21
Two Tulips in a Vase (1986) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê23
The Prison Doors (1986) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 25
A Sleeping Face I (1987) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê27
Fashion (1987) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 29
Fruits (1987) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 31
Cherries (1987) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 33
Isolation (1987) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 35
II. Washington, D.C. êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 37
Charlie Chaplin (1988) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 39
The Bicyclist (1990) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 41
The Spider’s Web (1990) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê43
Vodka Martini (1990) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 45
2 Bathroom Humor (1990) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 47

Saxophone Player II (1990) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê49 3
III. Chicago êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 51

Shattered (1997) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 53
Enlargement #1 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 55

Music (1998) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 57
IV. San Francisco êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 59

Business World (1999) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 61
Enlargement #1 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 63
Enlargement #2 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 65

Fish in a Bowl, Part I (1999) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê67
Fish in a Bowl, Part II (1999) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê69
Ants Attack, Part I (2000) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê71
Ants Attack, Part II (2000) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê73
A Serb in Kosovo (2000) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê75
Lena’s Eyes (2001) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 77
My Mother (2001) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 79
My Father’s Eyes (2001) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê81
My Grandmother (2001) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê83

Study #1 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 85
Study #2 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 87
A Nude Body (2003) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 89
Asya (2005)êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 91

V. Miami êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 93
Ice Fishing I (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 95
Enlargement #1 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 97
Enlargement #2 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 99
Enlargement #3 êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 101
Enlargement #4êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 103
Ice Fishing II (2015)êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 105
Enlargement #1êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 107
Enlargement #2êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 109
Street Corner Mime II (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê111
Prison Cell II (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 113
Enlargement #1êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 115
Isolation II (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê 117
A Sleeping Face II (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê119
The Saxophone Player II (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê121
A Very Drunk Girl (2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê123
The Bull Fight (unfinished, 2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê125
A Blues Guitarist (unfinished, 2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê127
A Lady with a Dog (pencil, 2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê129
Self-portrait (pencil, 2015) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê131

4 NYC Skyline (pencil, undated) êêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêêê133

Summary

Once I learned how to hold a paint brush, I never stopped doodling nonsensical sketches on
scratch paper. A few rough drawings, and a week later the image in my head would miraculously
appear on a large canvas. It was quite a thrill when I was young (still is, but to a lesser degree).

And so I continued to paint my odd impressions of life on large canvases, no matter where
I lived (and I’ve lived in quite a few places). Each new city brought fresh experiences, and
since I was relatively young (and quite impressionable), I took every opportunity to learn,
absorb and create. Best of all, I was in complete control of the entire process, from creating
the image on paper to spilling it onto an empty, white canvas, just as I envisioned it.

Below I quickly summarize each of the periods in my life.

5

I. St. Louis (1981–1987)

My life in St. Louis was very ordinary, like any other kid,
and equally happy: I had a wonderful family, a group of great
friends at the BBYO (B’nai B’rith Youth Organization), and
encouraging teachers, especially Lewis Greenberg, who let me do
anything I wanted to in his art class. That’s why most of my early
paintings are rather simple observations of what I saw around
me: The Beatles, my girlfriends, musicians, street performers,
colorful fruits, smiling faces, etc. Several of the paintings I made
especially for my parents and my grandmother, and they actually
hung everything up on the walls! Those were the best years of
my life, but now they’re gone forever. That’s life…

II. Washington, D.C. (1988–1990)
After finishing law school, in the summer of 1988 I moved
to Washington, D.C., to start my career. This experience left
quite an impression on me, which I tried to capture in the
few canvases that I painted about the high-power corporate
6 lifestyle: a huge martini at lunch, a spider that’s patiently

waiting for its victim, and the bicyclist who has the freedom

to spirit away from the corporate world’s enslavement. During

my time in D.C., I could easily see my future, which is why I

decided to move to Kiev, Ukraine, to open my own law firm.

That’s how I ended up in Kiev in October, 1991. To read about

my Kiev adventures during the dangerous 1990’s, please see

www.thesteelbarons.com.

III. Chicago (1997–1998)

By the time I returned to America, my father had passed away

(at home, in my mother’s arms). Fortunately, I saw him on

Thanksgiving, just a few days before he died, but this doesn’t make

things any easier. So when I moved back to America, I painted a

large square canvass called “Shattered,” which is a self-portrait

that shows my face a couple of years after my father’s death (no

more tears; no more emotions whatsoever). The only other painting

I was able to squeeze out of myself during the Chicago years dealt

with music. Both canvases helped me to stay out of trouble during

this difficult transitionary period. 7

IV. San Francisco (1999–2005)
In San Francisco, my paintings reflected two sides of life:
cold business reality of the outside world that I have grown
to despise, and my family, people whom I always loved, but
never appreciated enough. For instance, the paintings called
“Business World” and “Fish in a Bowl” (and to some extent,
“A Serb in Kosovo”) represent what goes on in the “business
world,” where the only goal is making money. The remaining
pictures are of my immediate family that I’ve known and loved
since I was born. And somewhere in there you’ll find a nude
figure of a beautiful woman.
Unexpectedly, in 2005 I had to return to Kiev for business
reasons, which put an end to my art projects for the next ten years.
V. Miami (2015)
On October 19, 2014, I returned to America. Before that, I
would spent my nights taking photos of the Maidan Revolution
as it unfolded before my eyes (see www.frishbergsphotos.
8 com.) It was a very stressful time for everyone in Ukraine.

And after we won the revolution, Russia annexed Crimea and

invaded Eastern Ukraine. As a result of the Maidan revolution

and subsequent war, my business in Kiev stopped producing

money (no foreign investors during times of volatility). Plus,

my wife divorced me and took Danny with her. In the end, I

was emotionally drained, and really needed a break from Kiev

life. And since my mom lives in Miami, it was a logical place

to stop and lick my wounds. Altogether, I stayed in Miami until

September 8, 2015, which gave plenty of time to return to my

old hobby: art.

This time, I came back full circle from where I started: some

of my paintings are re-makes of the canvases I painted in the

younger, happier days (like smiling faces, saxophone players

and pantomimes). The new set of paintings contains bitter social

commentary about very drunk girls, imprisonment and subsequent

isolation, morality in today’s society. My favorite paintings,

however, deal with a sport that Danny and I always loved: fishing

(just like my father taught me). 9

10

St. Louis

(1981-1987)

11

12

John Lennon

“John Lennon” was one my first paintings in high school (Horton Watkins in St. Louis,
Missouri). A truly great art teacher, Lewis Greenberg, was very encouraging: he gave me a
canvas, paints and brushes, and told me that I could paint anything I wanted. So I checked
out a book about John Lennon from the school library and tried to paint his image in
black and white, as if he was Jesus Christ (it was something that John Lennon once wrote:
“Christ you know it ain’t easy/you know how hard it can be/the way things are going/
they’re gonna crucify me”). And with Lennon’s uncompromising moral and political views,
a black-and-white Jesus Christ-like portrait made perfect sense.

After I finished this painting, Mr. Greenberg had a private meeting with my parents,
where he suggested that they enroll me into an art school, because he thought that I held
some promise as a budding artist. Fortunately, my parents ignored his advice, reasoning
that artists are always poor, and they never get to keep their favorite paintings (which
must be sold to the clients to make ends meet). Instead, my parents gave me the following
sage advice: “first, get a diploma so that you can earn a decent living, and then you can do
whatever you want, including art.” That approach made perfect sense to me, so I became
a lawyer with a great hobby: painting. And John Lennon is still my favorite Beatle.

13

14

Valerie

Once upon a time, I dated a beautiful girl whose name was Valerie (yes, it’s her real
name). She was a ballet student, always cheerful and (most important to me at the time)
this girl was absolutely gorgeous (i.e., with a fantastic body). In fact, I always wondered
why she was dating me. Then I realized that Valerie was quietly evaluating me all along to
see what I could do for her before jumping onto the next, more prestigious boyfriend.

In this painting, the eye with a monocle shows Valerie’s careful screening of any potential
mate, almost like you’re under a microscope. The monocle is connected to her ear that’s in
the shape of a question mark, because it’s the key question Valerie always had for the next
suitor: what can you do for me?

I haven’t seen or heard from Valerie since the 1980’s. I wonder where she is today…

(1984)

15

16

Pantomime on
a Street Corner

When I was a student at UMSL (University of Missouri in St. Louis), I would earn cash
on the weekends, along with two other pantomimes.

We worked on the street corner in Central West End, right across the Haagen Daas ice
cream parlor; it was the best spot to catch the tourists. We would paint our faces in white,
and I wore a top hat and a cheap tux, just like Charlie Chaplin. And there I would stand
on Friday and Saturday nights, one leg across the other, leaning on an invisible post, until
some passerby would drop a coin into my hat. And that’s when the show would start; you
really should have been there to see it!

Sure, it’s all fun and games when you’re young, but I pity the older mimes that have to
make a living from the pocket change that the “generous” public throws into their tip jar.

(1985)

17

18

Saxophone
Player I

Music is more than just notes and pretty melodies. It’s the way the musicians sway when
they play those notes. I can still remember when my father and I drove my yellow VW
Beetle to Canada, and in Toronto we saw a Dixieland band in action. The saxophone player
had this large, round stomach that was more appropriate for a woman at least 7 months into
pregnancy, but the way he moved it on stage was enough to keep your eyes and ears glued
to the band. That’s when I fell in love with music and those crazy musicians (especially
large saxophone players, blues guitarists and the back-up singers that shake their booties
all over the stage).

(1985)

19

20

Predators

This painting was an attempt to express an obvious observation about life. Namely, that
predators are everywhere: under the ocean’s waves when you don’t see them, and high
above you in the sky, where you don’t bother to look. A few simple lines with black paint
across a white canvas, and a disturbing, dark image is formed about the basic principles
that have always governed our society (and continue today). Now that I’m older, I can
wholeheartedly confirm my initial impressions of life that we are mere paper boats on top
of ocean-size waves, with predators above and below us. Navigating a clear path under
these circumstances requires wisdom, skill and patience. Otherwise, you’ll lose every-
thing, like I did.

(1985)

21

22

Two Tulips
in a Vase

In 1986, I didn’t know what to buy for my parents on their upcoming wedding anniver-
sary, so I painted a gift for them instead: a delicate vase with two tulips that symbolize my
mom and dad’s life-long commitment to each other. This canvas used to hang on the wall
in our house until my father passed away and my mother moved out. Now, it hangs in her
apartment on the ocean as a memory of those happy times.

(1986)

23

24

The Prison
Doors I

The first time I drove across America was from St. Louis to see California with my buddy,
Fred Levinson, in his white convertible Mustang. That’s when I fell in love with life on the
road. Every night we found ourselves in another town, checking into some cheap motel,
eating in fast-food dives and greasy diners; life just couldn’t get any better.

Eventually, after a month on the road, we ended up in San Francisco, in some motel near
Pier 39. There was a guided tour of Alcatraz, that notorious prison in the middle of the Bay.
The magnitude of misery I witnessed blew me away; I couldn’t imagine a harsher environ-
ment. On our way back to St. Louis, images of dark, damp cells, with iron bars, stuck with
me. That’s why I painted the dreary cell that I saw, but with a sign of optimism: the metal
door was open, and the prisoner (who sat in the dark corner) was finally released, after pay-
ing with his blood for the time he was locked away.

(1986)

25

26

A Sleeping
Face I

One day, my mom commented to my dad in a passing conversation that the painting above
their bed wasn’t really very nice, but she didn’t know what else to hang there. Unfortunately,
I had to agree with her. That’s where the idea came for this painting: I wanted to make sure
that my parents’ dreams were always pleasant. And I believe it actually worked. In fact,
this painting is still hanging over my mom’s bed after all these years, though my father is
no longer there.

(1987)

27

28

Fashion

When I attended law school, I studied in London one lovely summer, where I first saw
punk rockers with their spiking mohawks and all the leather gear. In one night club, I met
a beautiful girl with a fashionable haircut and sunglasses that reflected everything. She
was absolutely stunning: high cheekbones and aristocratic nose, but there was one thing
wrong with her: those thin, almost twisted lips. And that sneer, as if I’m beneath her,
before she walked. Just like the line in John Lennon’s song:

“You can comb your hair and paint your face
You can call yourself the human race
You can wear a collar and a tie
One thing you can’t hide is when you’re crippled inside”

So I painted her exactly as I saw her: a physically stunning specimen of a crippled human
being.

(1987)

29

30

Fruits

To be honest, I don’t like painting reality for two different reasons. First, I was never
trained to perform miracles, like the Dutch masters in the Rijksmuseum, and second, there
are digital photo cameras to depict reality these days (why compete?) Still, at one point or
another, an artist has to paint fruits or vegetables to prove himself, I was told. That’s why
I felt an obligation (not an urge) to check off this old, beat-up topic from my list. Now, no
more fruits or vegetables for me; I’m done.

(1987)

31

32

Cherries

My grandmother, Cherna Feldman, liked my painting with fruits. And in particular, she
liked the cherries, because they were “red and juicy.” Naturally, I painted a cute little
canvas of “red and extra-juicy” cherries for her. This painting was prominently displayed
in my grandmother’s kitchen until she passed away at the age of 94 in St. Louis, Missouri.
Now, it hangs in my kitchen as a memory of my grandmother.

(1987)

33

34

Isolation I

In my three long years at Washington University School of Law, I studied every waking
moment of the day. I locked myself away in the law school’s library and my apartment in
U. City, preparing for the dreaded exams that determined the rest of my life. There was no
time for anything else, except analysis of boring case law and writing briefs (issue, rule,
analysis, conclusion) to compile a detailed outline for those damned exams. This painting
is about the profound isolation most law school students experience during their stretch in
their respective institutions.

(1987)

35

36

Washington, D.C.

(1988-1990)

37

38

Charlie Chaplin

I didn’t get to see any of Charlie Chaplin’s films until my family settled in St. Louis, but
once I discovered this little dynamo, I was addicted. No words were needed when Chaplin
was performing his pantomimes in black and white in my living room. Nobody could measure
up to the hilarity that Charlie produced each time he took the center stage, and the good
man always sided with the poor people, not the rich and powerful (millionaires, cops, and
dictators, whom he often mocked). Later in life, when I earned measly tips from indifferent
public while working as a pantomime on a street corner in St. Louis, I tried to re-create his
magic. This painting is my tribute to a great genius that America kicked out (Mr. Chaplin
lived out the rest of his life in Switzerland).

(1988)

39

40

The Bicyclist

Flying your bike at insane speeds and feeling the wind in your face – that’s what this
painting is all about. Just imagine yourself hunched over, holding tight to the handlebars for
your dear life as you barrel down the pathway at neck-breaking speed, prepared to crash at
any moment. It’s what I always loved, and still do: just two wheels, a pair of pedals under
your feet, and you, without any windshields or helmets for protection. That lovely, crazy
road keeps your attention with each turn, until the very end. And just like your life, it all
runs out too soon, believe me (so enjoy your short ride, because the end sucks).

(1990)

41

42

A Black
Spider’s Web

You can see the darkness in the sky as a thunderstorm approaches the black spider web.
Because of the changes in the light, there is an invisible spot on the web, where the prey
will get caught. And, knowing that, the black spider patiently waits near that blind spot to
pounce on its next victim. That’s life, no?

(1990)

43

44

Vodka Martini

This is a huge canvas that was very difficult to stretch due to its irregular shape. It depicts
a classic Martini (vodka and vermouth) that is shaken, not stirred, with an olive. In my
observation, it is the perfect drink before (and during) any business lunch.

(1990)

45

46

Bathroom
Humor

If Joan Miro (that famous Catalan artist) could spend years perfecting a single line on a
white canvas in the name of simplicity, I figured that I could also try “artistic simplification”
of my own. Thus, in a noble effort to simplify my art a la Miro, I got down to the basics:
I connected two oval canvases with chains and attached a longer chain with an electrical
tape on the end. When viewed together, this rather odd coupling is designed to induce
the visual effect of a toilet, with its seat in an upright position, during the moment of its
flushing (see the colorful swirls in the center of the bowl).

(1990)

47

48

The Saxophone
Player II

The first version of the saxophone player went to my parents, so I decided to paint
another one for myself, but on a larger, vertical canvas. It was a fast job, and this was the
pityful result, which I never really liked. Later, in 2015, I amended some of the mistakes on
this canvas by painting a new saxophone and emphasizing the player’s dominant features.
And adding some color. As a result, this version of the saxophone player no longer exists,
which is a good thing.

(1990)

49

50