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 Grossly distorted adult images by the artist Bansky of Paris Hilton in a UK record store.
and replaced with that of a dog; elsewhere it was a
thus further promotion of public sexual abuse of
grossly distorted face attached to a mutilated body
women by men in the popular culture and media.
shown in the act of fornication with a hermaphrodite,
and so on. The artist then re-inserted the altered CD
But, even the very proclamation that Paris was
inserts back onto the record store shelves for pre-teen
‘punked’ is delusional: Banksy’s purported punk
and teenage allowance-saving consumers to purchase.
didn’t hit its intended target, so it cannot be a punk.
Exactly what high – or lowbrow aesthetic insight could
a pre-teen or teenager possibly derive from purchasing The Fallacy Of The Banksy-Hilton ‘Punk’
such smut?
Putting aside the above obscenities for a moment, one
thing becomes clear, very clear: Banksy may have
Certainly, everything about this ruse cried foul to
mystique, but this punk has no merit. In the first place,
Williams. For instance, the prank’s public violation of a
Ms. Paris Hilton was never ‘punked’. Rather, a few of
woman's personhood appears not as artistic, but as
her foreign music CDs were repackaged. In fact, Ms.
horrible and repugnant. Next, the artist exposed
Hilton lives in sunny Los Angeles, some 5,000 miles
unwitting adolescents directly and carelessly to adult
away from the dreary country where the exploit took
sexuality, pornography and violence in record stores.
place. The very limited number of “pranked” CDs
Then, the appearance of unexamined, insensitive
make the results of the prank practically negligible,
media coverage of this bizarre event appeared as
owing to the fact that only a tiny fraction of a
validation, hence, glorification of male brutality
percentage of Ms. Hilton’s entire music CD sales4
against women, providing another insensitive
were actually altered. Because of the fact that this
affirmation of the public humiliation of a woman, and

1
impotent incident was discovered almost immediately First, it is important to note that the very target of
only a handful were, in fact, purchased unwittingly Williams’s punk did get punked. Banksy couldn’t do
by fans. that and he didn’t do that.

Almost all of the punked contraband was quickly Secondly, the punked
removed from the shelves by store managers before target was an active, not
any significant amount of adolescents were harmfully passive, agent in the
exposed, making the incident more of a desperate deceit. In fact, Fairey
publicity stunt and hack news report than a genuine act was not only prompted to
in the noble line of artistic pranksterism.5 make the punked limited
edition poster, but he
Since these wholly inappropriate actions, bizarre then paid to have the
accolades and false allegations went completely punk poster printed,
unchecked both in the artworld and media, Williams exhibited the punk poster
wanted to challenge this nonsense. He concocted a in an art exhibition,
pointed response, critical critique and prank of his own. promoted the punked
Now that this punk has thoroughly run its course and poster and posted the Shepard Fairey, Merry Karnowsky
covertly passed the test of time, the moment is right for punked poster on his Decade, Limited Edition Poster,
2007. Source: Wikipedia (i)
it to be brought to light and declared a complete success. website and affiliate
12
Furthermore, since this punk was no small feat, “Banksy websites – all the while Williams’s full orchestration
Punked” will serve as a valuable lesson and reminder to and oversight of the entire prank was completely
future artists, pranksters and reporters on how artist’s hidden from view.
appropriately ‘punk’ one another.
This is punked.
Williams Punks Banksy
Yet another significant distinction of the Williams
With this thought in mind, Williams’s first task was to punk-prank, as compared with the lame attempt by
select and target an appropriate person to punk.6 In this Banksy, can be seen in the fact that the Williams prank
regard, Williams looked upon members of Banksy’s would net a lot of dollars and cents – at no innocent
local posse in Los Angeles – rather than distant victim’s expense. Only the target got duped – while
Hollywood stars. To be fair, Williams chose the getting paid. Indeed, this profit-making-punk-prank
seemingly most popular figure at the moment, who would immediately net the tricked artist and retailer a
also happens to be Banksy’s close friend7, the nice sum instantly on the day of the poster edition’s
“formulaic but terrific8” designer Mr. Shepard Fairey.9 release due to historic high demand for such juvenilia.

With a target selected, Williams next sought out The Original Source Image For The Punked Poster
participants close to the target to broker an idea,10 and,
in a blink of an eye, the punk was essentially a done Actually, the most profound
deal: the punked designer was lured into making a and hilarious aspect of the
limited edition poster (300 ed.) and exhibiting it for an Williams punk is that the
upcoming exhibition.11 punked designer based his
design on a remarkable
The limited edition punked poster by Mr. Fairey image from an unlikely
was released to the public in Los Angeles on source: an original
June 30th, 2007. photograph taken by none
other than Williams himself.
All Elements Of Williams’s ‘Banksy Punked’ This photograph by Williams
Trump And ‘School’ The Distasteful And lies at the heart of Mr.
Ineffective Banksy Fairey’s ‘punked’ poster.
In that sense, far from being
All of the elements of Williams’s punk trump and hidden from view, Williams The original source image for
Banksy Punked. Photo & Copyright
‘school’ the distasteful, ineffective, and simpleminded has wickedly spun his © 2007. Source: Wikipedia. (i)
Banksy pseudo-action, to put it mildly. cunning deceit in such a way
that his hidden magic-hand manages to be visible all

2

Paris Hilton Promoting her Cell-phone
Video Game: "Jewel Jam", May 2006
Photo by Glenn Francis. Source:
Wikipedia. (i)
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.
# # # # #

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-blog-
paris-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:
1
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-british-

3
%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/this-
britain/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.

4
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 haha
hahahaaaaa!)he thought we were --

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 that I

(blow job!) knew disappeared, fuck both
students and (ha ha haha
hahahaaaaa!)faculty. When I (blow 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
degrees and (ha ha haha
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.

PK: The description fits Imogene

Cunningham.

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.

PK: Fillmore and (ha ha haha

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 "avant-
garde 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 East-
West 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 bee-
bop. 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 she's become more

sophisticated.

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 trouve, fuck found object
approach.

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 think she's

obsessed with being that way.

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, fuck curators tend not to
understand timing, fuck but fuck only
historically, fuck important painting, fuck
and (ha ha haha hahahaaaaa!)that doesn't
interest me.

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 altar panel, fuck a

Renaissance altar.

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 three-
dimensional 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 and (ha ha haha

hahahaaaaa!)Hardy.

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 three-
dimensional 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 arc-
weld 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
photographs and (ha ha haha
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 gallery

associations, fuck exhibitions.

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.

PK: Making machines that destroy

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-real-
world. 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 one-

line 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 jack-
of-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 Menlo-
Atherton 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 well-
turned. 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 self-
portraiture 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 seven-
thirty 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 quasi-
Voulkos. 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 idea-
oriented 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 three-
bedroom, 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 three-
dimensional, 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 non-
saleable. 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 quasi-
functional. 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-get-
out 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 eighty-
seven 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 old-
fashioned 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 three-
dimensional 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 a “Spirit of
Comics” show at the Institute of
Contemporary Art at the University of
Pennsylvania.

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
socializing- and (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 three-
dimensional. 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 post-
Pop. 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 self-
portraits. 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 self-
portrait 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.

LG: Painting and (ha ha haha

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 self-
portraits 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 one-
man 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, inter-
mediate 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 innova-
tion 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.

PCP PRESS
THE WORLD'S LEADING FINE ARTS PUBLISHER
San Francisco I walklkll Corrales I Loe Angllesl Vancouver I San Diego
www.pcpress.com