About the Artist

My Story: 30 Days to Become an Artist

My father was an artist his whole life. Our house was filled with art from the basement to the attic. Dad encouraged me to attend an art high school in Newark. I danced for the Garden State Ballet for two years, then took a break and traveled to Israel for a year. When I returned to the states, I studied photography but decided against launching a career in commercial photography so I went back to ballet. I danced and worked as a stagehand for five more years. Then, I met the love of my life and we married.

For thirty years I tried different jobs. While on a dinner break for a long-haul trucking company, I sprained my ankle. Swelling hid the bad fracture from doctors for two months. It took a few years for insurance to cover the required surgery; I had plenty of time to think about my direction.

I gave myself thirty days to see if there was any gift for art still left. I used our 4X6́ laundry room to paint a new painting every day. And every day, they were crap.

On the evening of the 29th day Lauren and I watched a movie called El Norte. The story was about people living in such a poor environment they virtually had nothing but love and color. Their clothes, and the walls of their homes were infused with rich color. I admired these people for making the most of their lives through the use of vivid color.

On the 30th day, I painted a picture that was also crap. But it had color. And that was my beginning.

I went through a phase where all the pain and anguish of my life poured out in the form of grotesque gargoyles, much to my wife’s unhappiness. There was no composition or direction, other than the knowledge that I knew what I wanted to do now.

During the following months I got a color wheel, and looked at the artists that I most admired: Matisse, Picasso, Van Gogh, and my father, George Tarr. Each of these artists taught me how to see color, shapes and composition. My father taught me the last important lesson, perseverance; he painted to the age of 99.

The work I am doing now started to pour out one day when I was driving home from the city. I saw Dexter Lake and pulled into the parking lot. Nobody was there, except a flock of geese. I saw the beautiful rhythm in their necks and in the way they walked. I jumped back into my car, raced home, and made a quick sketch.

From there, my work has evolved to the utopian landscapes and city scenes I paint today.