Full Moon, White Light by Cavin-Morris Gallery

FULL MOON, WHITE LIGHT CAVIN-MORRIS GALLERY

EXHIBITION GREGORY VAN MAANEN - NEW WORK

SEPTEMBER 9 – OCTOBER 16, 2010

SPECIAL THANKS TO: THE KOHLER FOUNDATION TATIANA OUDINE ALLISON TEPPER LESLIE UMBERGER SENIOR CURATOR, JOHN MICHAEL KOHLER ARTS CENTER

JEFF WOLF

Reproduction of any text, illustration, in whole or in part is forbidden without the publisher’s prior written permission.

Untitled, 07/15/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1649

THE WOLF SURVIVES BY RANDALL MORRIS

In the restless violent ethers between death‐consciousness and life‐consciousness swim memories, memories stained microscopic blue, memories full and pregnant, prescient with unhappy knowledge. There is a war forever on and sometimes in order to transcend oblivion and a long lagging death, one must swim above the bottom‐feeders to correctly survive and in his art and life combined Gregory Van Maanen has done this. Small images of tremendous force, laid out in secret yet universally iconographic images. Large images laid out like occult maps with heir languages reworked into spare images that instantly spray the viewer with their urgencies. Van Maanen was tuned into the Mysteries. I knew nothing about him other than that he was a Vietnam Vet. I could see the war images in the earlier work but could also see that before too long he had gotten away from that. The sensibility of living with and having seen what he had seen and the wound he received had been dealt with in much the only way he had open to him: an exploration into the journey of Spirit seeking to survive in a hostile universe. All of it was open; Science, Tantrism, Australian and New Guinea mysticism, world wide birth images of the splayed female, the Kali Yuga, the hovering ancestral power of the charged skull. Our first meetings with Van Maanen were easy. He was driven; we had expected him to be. He was gaunt and chain‐smoked and held our gazes with an intensity that challenged and knew better at the same time. We understood each other’s paranoias immediately. The formalities were embarrassing.

He invited us out to Paterson, where he lived in his studio. It was hot and the Jersey highways stank. Paterson was the strangest town. Angry. Paterson was so angry; here where the pure product of America had gone crazy for William Carlos Williams so many years before. Here where Ginsberg had come to grips with America’s insecure unpredictabilities. Here where Van Maanen has taken America to her logical next step. Finding the acculturation of Native American blood in his selves. The stalker who has stopped stalking on the edge of the minefield of over‐industrialization. Van Maanen whose name means of two moons. He can never be called a real shaman because he has no tribe. Unlike most of his people he has died and returned but he never burnt out. He grew delirious with ideas and went on a bender into a night of painful white light and returned from Southeast Asia drunk on pigment, maintenance of spirit, and women. He lives in what looks like a red ruined version of a much more romanticized Riker’s Island. There are used spikes in the steaming puddles beside the building, one building among many in the neighborhood which have been frozen into a permanent state of halted renovation. We met him waiting by a fence in front of the Salvation Army and he guided us around the corner to his fortress. Always, always in downtown Paterson I hear that haunted bass line in Apocalypse Now; those two repeated notes as the boat cuts through the silty.

America is hell when the mix does not happen. Above it all, the flying wolf hovers weeping in full appreciation of the ultimate irony of the flesh’s inherent struggles. Hell when the ethnicity goes fascist on itself and stays aloof and guilty of false pride. This is not about direct racial memory. It is about species memory. Often the streets when they are not tawdry and suburban have that rancid sheen that only misused drugs and slaves and lower chakra existence bring about. New York City’s got it. But it is much stranger to feel these things in a smaller city, especially strange cities that are extremely urban in the center and suburban everywhere else. Those August days when dead pigeons bake on the sidewalks with the smell of putrid meat and drunks break bottles over each other’s heads in compulsive frenzies. I’ve seen it in downtown LA where derelict armies build fires in the stifling heat of the night and crucify each other against the buildings pounding in nails made of broken shards of glass. In the center of this heat lurks an anger, an unforgiving ugly sneer of an anger that has as the center of its need an unquenchable violence.

But above it all licks a clear sensual wind. There are waterfalls and lakes near Van Maanen’s house, out of time and haunted but still containing something of the sacred power of place. It is here he finds the raw materials for the amulets and fetishes that line his walls. Too noisy for quiet meditation, the falls are deep and threaten to whisper of suicide. Here he has watched the once plentiful fish turn into used condoms, the floating leaves become crack vials, and the once lush shores lapse into bastions of pollution. Yet hawks still float on the air currents and migrating birds fill the skies with noisy restless tangos. Van Maanen celebrates the Indian ghosts here, the geniuses of

rootless‐ness driven from ancestral grounds by the insatiable ego of encroaching civilization. With any artist, but most especially with a self‐taught artist one finds that there is most often created an ecology that the outsider (dealer, collector, curator, academic, pure on‐looker) must learn to understand and respect. An ecology that combines survival and place and holding down existence on a planet where you are not necessarily always winning. The survivor learns to meld reality and dream into a workable combination. The survivor learns the prayers that work; that cause a trick in time and spit in the face of darkness in order to heal. The only way to fight death, despair, and the angry pressures of solitude is to heal, to cause healing. To heal flesh, to heal soul, to heal mind, to heal time becomes the ultimate quest of the true artist, trained or untrained. Art then becomes the amulet, the gri‐gri, the charm that takes the hurt body or the soul and cajoles, screams or seduces it back to life. In some parts of Mexico there is rumored to be a legendary beetle which, grows about four to five inches long and feeds exclusively on the leaves of a plant in the Mint Family called Saliva Divinorum. Shamans are said to have eaten this plant for centuries in order to strengthen, maintain and perfect psionic powers. It was also rumored to strengthen telepathic reception and transmission. In this last information resides its fatal flaws. You must spend half your lifetime learning to control these powers, not to turn them on but to turn them off. If there have been no teachings connected the user will go completely mad the first time he or she walks on a crowded street. Your mind will never be alone again. The imprint of Babel shrieks forth and never leaves.

In Viet Nam many got tapped in too early, too fast. Unlike any other war white people have fought, Viet Nam was a war where the cross‐eyed schizophrenia of America was exported by thousands of young men and women into an ancient occult culture. Like in any of our wars many of us left our more traditional American lives, even if they were traditional suburban and went to a place where we were suddenly in possession of tremendous powers of the will and at the same time tremendous weaknesses. We went from a country that spends a good deal of its time terrified of the edge to a country that spends all of its time in acceptance of the edge. We were never taught to turn it off and the confrontation with those ancient voices took many of our survivors into darkness. There are many whose minds will never be alone again. Van Maanen’s art is also about how one confronts thinking about death. For most of us death is a church funeral or a sudden collapse in the street and a small crowd. Death is a filmic slumpover and then experts come in and take care of everything. You pick the plot and box and hope for the best. Or death is slow emaciation by disease. Inner systems stop functioning. The closest we get to death by war is a drunken driver in a maniac car. Or as innocent bystanders in a prolonged adolescent machine gun jam session.

Van Maanen confronts death head on. Eye to eye and eye for an eye and ultimately eye for an eye for an eye. If you get close enough to hear death’s chuckle then you will be cautious in the future, but never blindly terrified. He’s gone further, gone transcendent with it. Van Maanen has come to death without fear and searched behind it, finding the door into that mysterious room behind death, that room where death becomes a functional part of the everyday, a base for enlightenment, a place beyond the organic manifestation; a place where death dons the traditional robes of spirit and soul. We carry our species in our skulls. There is no more universal symbol in the world. A single image that at the same time means age, defiance, transcendence, life after death, death, prowess, as a warrior, keeper of the cemetery, protector of the living and of the dead, magic, sorcery, shamanism etc. Van Maanen taps into this slipstream of meaning. His skulls are boats racing through time’s ethereal vapors. He has explored new meanings; most notably as the gatekeeper of dream, the acolyte, the teacher of magic. It would be too easy to glance at the paintings superficially and dismiss the artists’ vision as too harsh or too bloody. Ultimately every human, no matter how sheltered becomes dislodged in some way from the protective shell of skin and well‐ being and suddenly rediscovers the primal rhythms of blood, piss and excrement. It is then the holiest feat in the world to offer healing. The vision is balanced. Something comes through in Van Maanen beyond the mere emblematic language of the works themselves; and that is the symmetrical‐ness of the vision; of the balancing act of sickness and wellbeing, war and peace, silence and thunder, male and female. For every Lobo there is a Loba, for every phallus there is a vulva, for every killing a rebirth. His is an insight that the nitty gritty of survival is predicated on these wet, organic visions. Ultimately the universe does not make love. Making love is a sensual option left to humankind. These are not paintings of human beings they are paintings of the universe writhing in primordial lustings and procreative copulations. A major idea in the works then is that of a hovering, wiser consciousness; not extraterrestrial but right up and out of the miasma of earth. The benevolent disembodied intelligence manifested as a skull, or a wolf’s ears and eyes. To understand spiritual survival you are tapped into an alchemical solution to eternity. Thought coats the earth like a skin; the artist has never lost his irrational beliefs that the world clicks with an innate beautiful order. A major part of this order is a rediscovery of the dignity of contemplative solitude. All our lives we live in the midst of a struggle to be comfortable with our solitudes. The artist has always made art of this one on one dialogue with the gods. The skull that lives becomes the presence of an omniscient reality buzzing over humanity; the presence that can be sensed but never seen.

Gregory Van Maanen’s paintings rediscuss the amulet possessing powers of pure art. He finds and separates out the occult integrities of symbols long considered cliched and useless and raises them from their impotency. His outlook is tough. His is a feral forgiveness. The veteran has survived his anger, gone through the questions with no answers, and has become old enough and wise enough to crack through the fear and loathing with answers of his own. The dead have become buried in the kinder shrouds of memories and the bitter mists they died in have begun to dissipate. The new paintings forgive as they dare us to forgive. They do not promise sweetness but they do sing of healing. 03/03/1990 NEW YORK CITY

FULL MOON, WHITE LIGHT: NEW PAINTINGS BY

GREGORY VAN MAANEN I’ve known Gregory Van Maanen twenty‐five years now and my awe of who he is and what he does to keep living has never changed in all that time. In fact, the older I get and the more my own concept of the romantic center of the world shifts the more my respect for his vision grows. Van Maanen has always been my cornerstone of authenticity in the art world. I have watched the art whores court him when his work was “in style” and watched him resist the perfume, and then take no bullets when the “look” swung the other way. I have watched people from the Caribbean, Africa and Mexico grin in pleasure at his imagery while the more Eurocentric backed off from the skulls and sexuality. I have seen him use the pictorial language he made up for himself and change the words around, make new sentences of dark and cosmic musicality, and never for a moment waver or shy away from the hard truths of the songs he has chosen to sing, the indigo poetry of the heart, the body, death and the surreal shapeshifting required to move around in the afterworld. The major body of his past work, with the visionary help of Leslie Umberger, is now in the collection of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center. He moved and his physical life changed. His studio, his charms, his amulets, his memories, his imprint on the ghost world of Paterson was shifted to another place and he took it in stride, accompanied by his wife, and went to this new empty place, thought, paced, smoked, bit the ennui bloodily by its throat, and slowly, then faster and faster began to fill that space with his visual stories again. I read the introductory essay again and I am amazed at how relevant it still is. He is the same wolf, although now there is more silver on his back. He and his wife have a feral fierce love, which protects and supports his vision without changing it. His paintings still refuse compromise. His medicine search still moves restlessly through the forest of the soul. RANDALL MORRIS 07/16/2010 NEW YORK CITY

Untitled, 10/9/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1768

Untitled, 2008, Mixed media/paper, 5 x 5 inches, 12.7 x 12.7 cm, GVM 1627

Untitled, 8/29/08, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 4 inches, 8.9 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1717

Untitled, 3/25/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1678

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1828

INTERVIEW

WITH THE ARTIST by Randall Morris RANDALL MORRIS Have you always made art? GREGORY VAN MAANEN Yep, as far back as I remember. RM How old were you when you first started? GVM Aaah…three. I remember enjoying making things. RM How old were you when you first started thinking of it as art and that as being something you wanted to do? GVM As far as I can remember back, I always enjoyed it. As far as knowing it‐‐I guess I always felt it. RM So before you went to Vietnam, you were making art? GVM Yeah, it felt safe. RM Did you draw in Vietnam? GVM Yeah, I used to make things out of feathers and rocks, and tiny, tiny objects.

RM You have Native American blood, what people? GVM The Iroquois. RM How old were you when you went to Vietnam? GVM Going to Vietnam, I think I was nineteen...nineteen years old. I upped my draft. It was either going to jail or going into the army. RM Returning to the Native American subject, were there people in your family that took it very seriously or was it, oh, we have Native American blood? GVM Nobody ever took it seriously. I didn’t even know it ‘til I was an adult, nobody ever told me. I didn’t even know what my name meant until somebody in the gallery actually told me. RM Which name? GVM Van Maanen, ‘From more than one Moon’. And I told my aunt, I said, why didn’t you tell me that my name meant that, and she said she wanted me to find out for myself. RM Junior said that you hunted when you were young. GVM Avid hunter, yeah, used to hunt everything. RM Did that have any connection in your mind with the Native American thing? GVM No, just liked it.

RM What sort of animals? GVM Everything. Anything that moved. RM What did you feel about what you killed? GVM At that time, I didn’t care at all‐‐it was the rush. But after ‘Nam, that was all gone, that was over. RM So, Vietnam for you after you were wounded, was sort of a major, major life change. GVM Instant. Changed my life, and I’ve never been the same. RM Would you be interested in saying anything about the day you were wounded, or should we get into that a little later? GVM Yeah, it was ah…I was shot into a different dimension, and I still don’t know what it is. I probably never will till I’m dead, but I’m thankful for the experience because it opened my life up to everything…to new dimensions. RM What happened to you? Because, I know I’ve seen it on your paintings, where basically you were shot out of this body and, what happened, you floated above the battle field and… GVM Yeah, I went into a world of light, white light, and it was off the battlefield, total silence, and I heard a male voice‐‐this is during a major battle right‐‐mortars, small‐arms everything, right on me. And I disappeared off Earth into a world of white light, and I heard a male voice, very calmly say to me, “Don’t worry, you’ll talk about this tomorrow,” and then I was back. I’ve never been the same, ever since.

Untitled, 2007, Mixed media/paper, 3.75 x 4 inches, 9.5 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1599

RM Obviously then, Vietnam, and afterwards you ran into some major themes in your life: death, forgiveness, guilt, karma. Do you feel that the painting becomes a way of confronting and dealing with those ideas? GVM Every one. RM Want to elaborate on that? Okay, you wake up‐‐take me through a Van Maanen day. Time, place… GVM Yeah, yeah… Wake up, be very, very happy that we’re here, number one, right? It’s a blessing to be. Wake up, number one: you’re happy you’re here. Try to use it‐‐the day, creatively, of course. Try not to waste any time, and try to get into the target zone of what you’re talking about. Try to zone into that and try to create something, and have a record for it to share with others. Painting, sculpture‐‐ something to make a record of the experience of what you’re talking about. To have a record, ‘cause words, ya know, you see the painting and it says it. Then you’ve done it, you did good, you’ve done alright, you had a good day. It doesn’t happen every day, but you have to try. RM What time of the day do you usually paint? GVM Ah, I don’t know. Whenever‐‐if it’s here, if the spirits are here, I use them. Could be at night, could be morning, could be afternoon, you never know, but when it comes, its strong‐‐use it. RM What makes you write on the back of paintings? Because, each one I know, is a whole different time and a different place. So let’s say you’re gonna start painting, what makes you turn the painting over? GVM Well, first I date it, that’s when it starts. And then any thoughts I have during the piece or afterwards, I keep a record of it, of my own thoughts and sometimes some other people too, if I like a title or something. But just to have a record of it

‘cause I’ll forget, ya know? I knew it would be as important, they’re very important, ‘cause I forget too, so I look at them and I know. Plus they all turned into one, which is interesting. They all have the same titles, there’s hundreds of paintings, and that’s interesting‐‐they all turned from individual pieces‐‐I think the whole thing turned into one tribe. RM So the writing unifies them. GVM I think so. Yeah, I think so. RM I know your work is very personal, but I’m wondering, when you make a painting, do you have an audience in mind? GVM I hope there’s an audience ‘cause I want to share this stuff, because it’s medicine. For me it’s medicine and I’m hoping that an audience will get help by it also. I’ve always had an audience in mind; it was for me and others, always. RM Do you feel the paintings talk to vets? GVM I’ve seen them talk to Veterans. Talks to everybody. Not everyone, but a lot and it works, it works. In a gallery I’ve seen it work, and in here I’ve seen it work. RM Talk more about the veteran thing, ‘cause I feel like, I feel you feel you have a responsibility, that you have a karmic payback to the veterans and you sort of do that with the work in a sense. Can you elaborate on that? GVM All veterans from any war, both sides. Just the… the horror of the situation, it’s not stopping. I was hoping to help stop that, ya know, peace in the universe, but it’s just too out of hand. But if I can help veterans, that’s great, and they do, it does help them. They can relate to it. RM So you feel a responsibility to them that drives the work.

GVM Well, for myself first and then, it seems to work that way, yeah‐ it’s a beautiful thing, beautiful thing. RM So what happened to you right after Vietnam. I know you went to the hospital, you got out of the hospital, then what happened? GVM Then I went to Korea for seven months. And ah, then I got out of the army. That was it. RM Then you traveled around. Where’d you go? GVM Well, I came back here, and then…everything was different, but that doesn’t matter. Where’d I go? Went all over the United States, went to Mexico, used to live in Mexico. Canada, went all over Canada. Couldn’t stop moving‐‐still can’t. But here, this here held me here for 20 years in one spot, that’s amazing, that’s the longest I’ve ever been anywhere, because this is a good, creative spot, in Patterson, it’s a good place to hide out, ya know? You can be invisible here, plus New York’s right here, plus you. I’m still traveling, ya know…I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I hope to one day, to relax a little bit, but I’m better than I used to be, I’m more relaxed. RM And, you went to Mexico because of the G.I. Bill? GVM Yeah, the G.I. Bill, they sent me down there to chill out and it was a great experience. RM Tell me about school there. GVM Magic place, magic place. It was an old monastery… Skeletons in the ground, Mexico at its finest. Ah good time, interesting people, international space. You know Mexico, filled with magic…I tried taking some regular college courses, but

that didn’t work‐‐I took independent studies, ‘cause, again, I couldn’t sit still, ya know, and I would study the culture, the people, the magic of Mexico, plus, make art‐‐it was beautiful. I did some great stuff, met great people, met some great spirits. Very nice place, very good place. RM What part of Mexico do you use in your paintings? GVM Good question. I don’t know. The spirits of Mexico that I ran into down there stayed with me, and ah, they’re my friends. Spirits, or energies…vibrations, ancestors down there, ya know, all kinds of good stuff. RM Take me through in a sense, what you mean by death. I notice in your paintings it’s not static. Your pieces seem also to have a way of looking at death that’s actually positive in a sense. How do you actually come to that? GVM It was just natural for me to do that and as I was growing, I learned of other cultures that used death like that, like Mexicans‐‐I wasn’t even aware of that, and I was so happy to learn that, because it helped me to be, ya know‐‐I was on the right track of something, I never knew what, probably never will, ya know the whole thing’s a mystery, but chasing the mystery is the game. If I knew what it was, I’d probably stop. But death, it’s a time…a time zone. We have so much time, and ah…it’s nothing to fear by the way, ‘cause that night of light I was talking about, ya know, I got a little taste of it, and its nothing to fear, it’s a good thing. RM Another thing I noticed, along with that, is a theme of forgiveness, of forgiving your enemies. You know that painting that you told me about and I saw, if you could talk a little bit about that, where you actually forgive the bullet that hit you. GVM Oh that small painting. I don’t know, I just did it; in fact I didn’t even realize it until I think, you, mentioned it. I know there were titles on the back; was there forgiveness titles and stuff on that? Yeah? Must have been thinking in that direction, but I don’t remember. It was just a natural flow to get rid of it; ‘cause I can’t carry it‐‐it’s a way of getting rid of the energies that are fuckin’ ya up, ya know?

RM And that bullet’s still in you? GVM Part of it, yeah. RM So you are carrying it, literally? GVM Carrying it, yeah. ‘Forgiveness of the Bullet’. Like a Hindu type thing, with a bullet. I remember it, yeah, yeah, sure. I’m trying to think if there’s something like that here, I can show you, but I don’t think so. It’s the only one like that. It’s like that bullet right behind you, right, on that little stick there? That shape? See it? Like that, right? With like a Hindu flames or something‐‐yeah I remember that, it’s a good one. Cool. RM It was like an altarpiece, which brings me to the next thing: When did you start making altars? GVM All my life, just did it naturally. RM So you were always into nature? GVM Always. RM And collecting? GVM Always. I’d find stuff, I’d find stuff. RM That situation with nature was there when you were a kid‐‐where’d you live by? GVM I was lucky, I had some woods and stuff pretty close…wildlife. Used to go back

there. It was very cosmic too. Even as a little kid, alone, like six in the morning, I’d go catch toads, crawlin’ around the swamps. It was fabulous. All kinds of birds, turtles, snakes‐‐small woods, ya know, suburban town. Very fortunate as a kid to have that. Ah, nature, nature. I’d catch a lot of wild animals and enjoy them, and I’d let them go. Always a collector of bones, feathers, stones…magic stuff. I found a dead skunk, cut its foot off, and I stuffed it with cotton. I stuck that in my pocket and I’d carry it around with me. Once I was in school and they started smelling the thing, they said, well ya know, what is that, and I took it out and they took it away. Magic skunk foot. RM Alright, going back to the Vietnam period: there were people who avoided the draft and there were people who went into it. Given your relationship with nature and freedom, what made you decide to join the army? Or were you drafted? GVM Well, a part of the reason I went was because of the attraction to nature. It was a jungle. Ya know, when’s a kid from a New Jersey suburban town gonna get into a real jungle? This was exciting. Plus the hunt‐‐I was a hunter as a kid, I thought I’d go on the big hunt…ya know, hunt in the V.C? Changed my mind in the first two seconds I was there, I fucked up, I had to get out. Didn’t belong there, the energy was wrong. The jungle was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, fabulous, saw things; spiders man, they were this big‐‐amazing stuff, stuff you hear about, not even hear about; snakes, ya know jungle, real jungle—cosmic. But the energy was so nasty, I just thought this is wrong, I gotta get out of here, we all have to get out of here. But I was attracted to the nature. I’m glad I saw it, but the war was ridiculous, not good. The negativity was overwhelming, the ah…but the beauty of the jungle saved me. Nature saved me in that situation. I’m a pacifist; I don’t want to hurt anything if possible, but sometimes, ya know, it’s too much, you have to. I hate to say it, but ya know, they push you to a point…they need to be hurt, I don’t want to do that, and I haven’t. I’d like to be a pacifist and stay a pacifist, but sometimes they really push you too far. RM Well you live in a tough neighborhood. GVM Yeah, well, the tough people are fine, it’s the people that don’t think that are the ones, ya know? Brainless, or jealous, envious, the green monster people that I can’t tolerate. But, we’ll let them go too, we don’t want to hurt them…

RM Your earliest paintings seem to be almost by a different artist than the paintings that you’re doing now and the paintings you’ve been doing for 20, 25 years, however long you’ve been painting. What brought you to the idea of the skull? GVM Again, since I was a little kid, I’d always be fascinated with skulls. I would collect bird skulls, ya know, all animal skulls, I had a fake human skull—I was always fascinated, it always drew me. But after the war, I think, and Mexico, dealing with real skulls, opened some doors and kind of things, fell into place as far as the paintings, just had to be, ya know? Just, that’s what works for me. That’s the only thing that’s interesting. And the feedback I get from them gets me through the day, like you said, what’s my day, and that’s a key. On the back of the paintings has a whole bunch of keys, ah, ya know, maps. It’s ah… it’s the skull, that’s what it is. RM What makes you put a third eye on? GVM Ah, well, all‐seeing, all‐knowing, trying to keep up there. Probably got that in Vietnam, I don’t know where the physical part of it got‐‐but I like the concept of, all‐seeing, all‐knowing. Plus, it puts it on a different level. Without it‐‐doesn’t seem right, needs that, and more, I want to go for more. That’s why they’re changing, they’re speaking to me more and I’m glad to be able to share that, that advancement. RM I noticed the skulls change over time also; their shape, the way they are, I mean you work with this one theme‐‐what made you decide just to stick with that, to work with it the way you do? GVM That’s a very good question and I wonder about that myself, but that just seems to be how it’s going, like I just go with it. I don’t know, I don’t know the answer, just, that’s how it goes. I can’t fight it. It’s the only thing that’s interesting. RM Do they come to you in dreams?

Untitled, 2008, Mixed media/paper, 3 x 3.75 inches, 7.6 x 9.5 cm, GVM 1603

GVM All the time, all the time. In dreams and in ah, visions. They just come. It’s my brother, brother‐sister tribe. All this stuff is a tribe and everything’s a tribal member. RM When I first met you, you told me that the altars and the amulets that you put on the altars, were for healing, and for healing people; when did that start? After Vietnam… GVM Ah, I would always make shrines‐‐like I told ya as a kid, I probably didn’t even know why. Then as you learn, everything’s for healing, prayers, blessing, medicine, every one. Paintings too, ya know, sculpture, everything, just to help heal and help, help the universe. RM The place you’re living now, this place…it’s artist housing. How did that come about? GVM Um, well I was living in a place I had to get out of, and ah… RM Where was that? GVM In Ramsey, New Jersey. And a buddy of mine from Patterson said come with me today because this thing is going to happen, where there’s going to be housing for artists, for a third of your income. So I just went along with him, it was right out there actually, and there was a trailer set up in a vacant lot and this building was all destroyed, ya know it wasn’t fixed yet. And there was a line of people there and I got online, I got an application, filled it out, ya know, brought it back and as they built this thing, a couple‐‐ a year or two went by, and they called me up and said, your room is ready. And I said great, so I went down‐‐you had to show that you were an artist, ya know, so I brought them slides and stuff. And at first they said I couldn’t get in, ‘cause as usual, they said my stuff was not art, I don’t know who the hell these people were but that’s what, ya know… So I went to the congresswoman, Marge Rukamin, in Ridgewood, New Jersey and I told her what

was going on, I showed her the slides, she goes, ‘you’re an artist.’ She had her, ya know, her guy call them up, the next day I was in. I was the second guy in here. RM What was Patterson like at that time? GVM Ah, a little…it changes all the time, Patterson, and I knew it as a kid ‘cause I lived right across the river. And it was a nutty‐‐it was a great town, it was three times as big, the city part, and it’s been shrinking ever since. But the magic is still here, always was. Watch your step a little bit, ya know, anywhere you are. But it’s ah, well, changed to the point where I very rarely leave the room, is what happened. RM How do you get your materials? GVM Um, I find most of it…Patterson’s a treasure chest of finding treasures for making art. Ah, frames, canvases, old cabinets‐‐you break the drawers out, you have a beautiful piece of Masonite, you can cut it or do what you want to do. The paint, people give me or I buy a can of this and that. Probably find 85 percent of the stuff. It’s like a gift, it’s just there, it’s beautiful. RM What about the falls. What part do the falls play in your life? In terms of finding stuff and… GVM Oh, spots, one of the ebb tide areas where things wash up from the river coming down, yeah, all kinds of great stuff; bones, amazing shapes of wood. Incredible find, magic spot. Magic spot. Found lots of stuff there. Yeah. I can’t get there now, it’s under water. Yeah, because when it rains a lot, the river goes up and washes everything away. Every time you go there’s whole ‘nother story. The old stuff’s replaced by the new. Amazing. RM Do you paint specific things? I mean, I know the language is the skull, but what prompts that? GVM It’s a need, it’s something that just, I have to do it or I’ll explode or implode. Before

Untitled, 12/23/08, Acrylic/board, 4.5 x 4 inches, 11.4 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1682

you asked about the dreams. The other day I woke up with a dream and I think it was related to Vietnam, it probably was ‘cause it was in a jungle type setting, and I walked up‐‐there were some kids around and there was a skeleton there, and when I walked up, the skull fell off the body and it rolled, and it sat there and it looked right at me and it told me something, I don’t know what it said. And I’ve been sitting here a week, two weeks doing nothing, just meditating and I got up, and I ah, just had a coffee or whatever and I just grabbed a little buddy of mine had given me and I just worked, non‐thought, just hit it. But it’ll be back, I hope it does come back. I never know, I never know but… it’s my family. I don’t want to sound like a wacko but the spirits are your family. RM Tell me about the holidays you celebrate, the personal holidays or occasions. What are important occasions to you? I know like, the Night of White Light is a holiday… GVM That’s a holiday, that’s a special day, yeah. I just go with them, they’re okay, but Night of White Light day is February 27th, that’s a biggie for me. That’s a big day. But every day is a thankful day for me, every day. RM Do you do anything special on that day? GVM I used to really push, even if I had nothing to do on that day, to thank that time. A painting, or an object of some sort. Always have some kind of record so I could write it down so I could remember that I was happy, to thank that day. I still try to do that but I try to do that, like I said, every day. So every day is blending into that thankfulness. RM Gregory, an issue that a lot of Vets deal with when they come back, that I see in your early paintings, is anger. And yet, in your later paintings, I see a feeling of peace and something that’s transcended anger. How did you deal with this anger? GVM Um, yeah, well hell of a situation to be in, over there, and for what? Ya know? For what reason? How did I deal with it? I went into the paintings as again, medicine and I’m glad that that came out in it because that’s ah, that’s cathartic in the cleansing process, I’m really happy that shows in the work. As far as how did I deal

with it‐‐I guess I dealt with it by doing it. Plus again, to have a record so we can look at it to have the record, we can think about, it’s a great thing. RM ‘The Wolf.’ How’d you become ‘The Wolf’? It’s in your signature and… GVM I don’t know I guess when the moon’s full and ya howl you’re a wolf. My mother used to howl at the moon like a wolf, we’d both howl like a wolf, me and my mother at the full moon. RM Where did ‘assume nothing, fear nothing, respect everything’ come from? GVM Assume nothing; fear nothing, respect everything‐‐can’t go wrong. What a nice philosophy to live by. RM When did you start writing that? GVM Fairly recently, actually. I thought that was important for the paintings too ‘cause that went along with what we’re doing here. Assume nothing, you assume nothing, you’re here, you’re there. Fear nothing, you don’t need fear; fear slows you down, right? Respect everything. Beautiful. RM Were you afraid in Vietnam? GVM Scared to death. Stone cold, many times. RM What made you change in Vietnam from making you think you were doing the right thing to realizing you were outside the indoctrination? GVM Ah, it didn’t take long. Just the energy of what was going on, ah, seeing the people. The Vietnamese people and us, the big green machine…just, I could tell, something wasn’t right‐‐for me. Other guys were fine with it but I just couldn’t

swallow it, I just said, something’s wrong here. And some of my own guys got angry, ya know, with me thinking like that, I’d be quiet. Some did, like a small minority, were saying something’s wrong here. But what could you do? You were stuck. The only way out was getting killed or wounded, or do your time. RM You feel you killed? GVM I probably did, yeah. Never saw the bodies. But I did see bodies disappear in front of me. And yeah, I probably did. And they used to come and haunt me too, those spirits, yeah. But they’ve forgiven me too, because, like I just said to Jeff, I didn’t want‐‐at first, when I first got there, I wanted to do the hunt, but I quickly was so‐‐I learned so fast, ya know, it was crazy, I didn’t want to do that, but if somebody’s shooting at you, trying to kill you, just self‐preservation, you had to take them out, ya know? Ya had to… you had to take them out or they’d kill you. But that’s a tricky question, and a very tricky situation to be in ‘cause you don’t know what’s going to happen at any time, you have to be very fluid. And just to‐‐I’m so honored to survive, to be here after such a situation, that I have to help the universe, I have to. If I didn’t, I’d drop dead, right here in the chair. I’d just slump over, dead. RM What was your life before you went into the army? Were you in trouble with the law? GVM Light stuff, ya know, I was fighting with kids and it starting getting‐‐compounding into bigger problems. And it came down to the judge saying, you’re gonna go to jail. And I said, well I’ll go to the army. He says, as long as you’re out of town in 30 days, you could do it. That’s why I went, ‘cause I was 4‐F, ‘cause I had a little bit of a criminal record. So rather than go to jail, I upped my draft and I went. Yeah. I had it beat, had it beat. Plus these guys were coming back, telling me these stories about war and I was intrigued. Was a kid, ya know? But, like I said, I learned real fast, like, nah‐uh, not for me. RM What was the name of your unit? GVM Was the 82nd airborne. The first in the 5‐0 5th, light weapons infantry. I think a

battalion was there. My company was 200 guys, and then they broke it down into platoons and into squads of like seven guys. A lot of the guys didn’t come back; lot of the guys didn’t come back. All the guys I was with, most of them were wounded, or out. RM Did you know something was going to happen that day? The day of the ‘White Light.’ GVM I could smell it, yeah, I knew it, I knew it. I knew it was on, I could smell the enemy. Plus it was in an area where they’re very active. In fact, it’s interesting you should say that because, before the ‘White Light’ incident, that night, I was ah‐‐another voice. I think there was an inner voice, that was an outer voice, an inner voice told me to move, to give another guy a little bit of cover, because I had like a little mortar hole, and I was in there and I said okay I gotta little bit of cover. And an inner voice said, get out of the hole and let this other guy, who was newer than me, into the hole, ‘cause he was very nervous. So, he got into the hole, and I got out of the hole. He got it that night. So I had like a double, inner‐outer voice thing happening. It was night ambush. Night ambush, we’d go out at night and like ya know wait for… RM Were you on patrol? GVM Just laying, hiding, waiting for the enemy to come and, that’s what we did. We would ambush them, hopefully. Or they could ambush you, going to the ambush, ya know, it was a madhouse. But that night, we were waiting for them, and they came. Sure, came big time. RM You saw Apocalypse Now, was it sort of a chaotic feeling like that, or worse? GVM That was a good movie. I don’t think you could ever capture real war, but they did a pretty good job with that, the chaotic, yeah. Not knowing‐‐minute to minute; you lived heartbeat‐to‐heartbeat in that war, step‐to‐step.

RM You’re there. You roll out of the hole, guy rolls in, you know he gets hit, then the bullet catches you, or, what kind of time was that? And then, bang, you’re in the air. How long was the whole thing? GVM The whole thing…he‐‐God bless him by the way‐‐he was a nice guy. Um…how long was the whole thing? It was a fire fight, the whole thing, maybe ah, 20 minutes, okay and plus our own stuff was comin’ in on top of us and their stuff and small arms, claymores, the whole deal. And then, I got hit, and another guy on the other side of the one in the hole, got hit, and when he got hit, the guy in the hole got hit; put a hole in his chest that big, bam. And then, mortars came in and they were right on top of us, which actually saved our life. They had I think, some RPG’s and small arms comin’, I could see them. And ah, when a mortar hits, it blows like this. An RPG, a rocket propel grenade, comes in and hits like this and blows out that way. So actually, with the closeness of our own mortars, there were‐‐some of them hit four feet around me, it was like the moon. So actually, that protected me and the two other guys from them, we got overrun basically, but they couldn’t get us because the mortars were comin’ in. They had a reaction force, they called it, and they couldn’t ah, they couldn’t find us, I was wondering where the hell they were because we all‐‐I ran out of ammunition, had nothing, and I shot a flare up to help them find us, I had the radio, I said, come get us, help us out here, my god, all your people are dead here, we’re wounded. Four other guys ran away, they thought we were gone because of this mortar thing, they took off, you figure, they’re gone, we’re gone. Plus I’m laying there, no ammunition, shooting a flare, like, here I am, come and get me, I’m laying here, I’m wondering, where are they? They could walk up and kill me, but they went away. It took a while, it took about an hour I think, for those guys‐‐I saw them coming with a tank, ah APC, and the guys came… Boy that was‐‐I was happy to see them. Boy oh boy was I happy to see them. And then they called in some cobra‐gun ships that would go around, fly around and ya know, clean up the area. This guy came in so fast and so strong, my medic jumped on me and said, they’re gonna kill us with this. Those mini‐guns, came two feet over our heads, cleaning up the area, ya know, getting the VC out of there. Threw us on a chopper, chopper comes down in the middle of this stuff, I get on, we put the guy that was killed on, and my buddy on. I remember, I was smoking a Kool cigarette, cupping it and looking out the window, and watching this thing happening, and I’m like, plucked out of the middle of it, on a Medevac, and brought to Kuchi Hospital. Boom. Into the medics, and cleaned us up, helped us…

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1827

RM How long were you in the hospital? GVM They put me back in the field actually, the next day, with my arm in a sling. But then I got dismissed that night, and I went back to the unit and I drove right by, going back to the unit, the place where it happened the night before, like I could see the mortar holes and I could see the battle. I had a weapon with me with no ammunition, I’m thinking, this is crazy, what am I doing? So I went back to the unit, and then back to the rear area, ‘cause I had to see surgeons and stuff. And then after a couple of weeks in the rear they sent me to Okinawa, Japan, where I spent two months, I think. And then I went to Korea because I wanted to get out of the army. If you had 180 days or less when you return back to the United States, you’d get out, if you had any more than that you had to do duty here, in the states. Plus I loved the Orient, so I figured, alright, let me go to Korea, there was a skirmish or something, they needed some guys, I talked to the doctor, I said, let me go over there, he said, sure, boom. Went over there, and it was another learning experience. Korea was very interesting. RM Why? GVM ‘Cause it was a war zone but not happening like ‘Nam. They had the DMZ, and we were right up by there, 10 miles from the Z, so you had that war energy, but not as violent as ‘Nam. It was happening, but secretive. I never saw the enemy there. Ah, plus I had fun; I could come down a little bit and relax a little bit and then basically get out of the army. RM What about the first drawing that had to do with what happened? GVM I’m still doin’ it. My first one? I don’t remember. RM Because it would seem to me at that point, that became a translation, right? Before that you’d been making art. But then suddenly, you’ve been through this shit and the art began to relate to that in some way, and I’m curious about that sort of transition, like the big paintings in the bedroom and things like that. There was a point where suddenly the art became, of use.

GVM I found a mouse, in a mousetrap in one of the places I was living, alright. And it was a‐‐it was a mummified mouse in the trap, caught him right in the head. And I painted the mousetrap like an American flag, and I painted the mouse army green and I glued it onto a board. Kind of an anti‐war statement. That, plus I did do another thing; I found a big piece of metal once, like a piece of car hood or something, all bent up. Someone had been using it for target practice and there was bullet holes in it. It was up by Ramapo College, and I dragged it over there to use it in a piece and I got pissed off one day and I smashed the piece, but I took that part of it, painted it kind of camouflage, and I took that famous photograph of the My Lai incident in Vietnam, of the woman carrying her dead baby and I glued it on there and poured like red, ah, resin blood‐type stuff and stuck it on there, not thinking, what it was. And it was in my mother’s garage once and a buddy of mine came in and he said, ‘that’s Vietnam’, and I didn’t even know it. RM And then you kept on? See, because at that point, from what you’re telling me, the art became different. GVM I don’t think of it‐‐it is art, but I don’t think of it as art anymore, I think of it as medicine. It’s an ongoing mystery of medicine and blessing and prayers. RM A lot of people say Patterson’s haunted. Why? GVM Yeah it is. You know the Indians had ceremonies and things by the falls. Ah, the industrial; there’s been a lot of, ya know, trouble here, murders; these spirits are all over the place. Some people see them, some don’t, I see them, I feel them. Always was haunted, but I think everywhere’s haunted, everywhere I’ve been. Ya know, everywhere I’ve been, there’s a certain haunt to it, ‘cause it’s old. We’re new people here. Patterson’s very haunted, yeah, New York City too, it’s got the haunt goin’, Newark. Certain places more so than others but I feel it everywhere. Everywhere I go I can feel something, some… RM What about this block? GVM Yeah, this is very haunted, but I like it though, it’s a good thing. They’ve been

pullin’ bodies out next door, ah…some nasty murder trips happening, occasionally. I feel them, I felt them‐‐when I was a kid I knew this place was haunted, but now living here for twenty‐something years… Yeah, there was one killed over here, ah, some kind of crack scene happening where they had killed her, she stole the crack, they killed her, cut her open to get the crack out of her stomach, ya know this kind of deal? I knew the girl, and I see her spirit everyday… RM Have you painted her? GVM Not her, but her spirit, yeah, all of them, all of them, yeah. That’s just part of what it is. Like I said, everywhere I go, there’s something; Patterson, there’s a lot, there’s probably a vortex of spirit, something’s goin’ on here, that’s for sure. But yeah, the murder, the violent, I don’t‐‐it’s not a good thing. Unhappy spirits, a lot of unhappy spirits. RM How did you arrive at your signature? See, that’s where I got ‘the wolf’ from. GVM Well that’s‐‐you mean the ‘VM’ thing? The symbol? Well, that’s Van Maanen with a blessing medicine prayer with it‐‐it’s a prayer thing. Yeah, it’s like the paintings in symbol form. RM There’s a word‐‐there are a couple of words that come up a lot in the paintings. I wonder if I just say the words, you could sort of free associate off it‐‐‘Bruja.’ GVM ‘Bruja’…female, ah, female witch, Mexican witch. I dated one in Mexico, scared the living shit out of me she was so powerful. Cuban, saw her hair stand up one time like this. She was putting like a curse or something‐‐she was pissed off at something, her hair stood up like this. I liked her though, she was very cool. Yeah, and I wonder what happened to her, I liked her. RM So you believe in witchcraft? GVM It can work, yeah, it can work. They say you have to believe it to make it work, but

Untitled, 3/2/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1696

anybody that puts some kind of energy on you, if you’re sensitive, you’re gonna feel it. If it’s part of your upbringing and belief, ya know you’re gonna get zapped. But there is a power there, yeah, there’s a power there. Positive, negative, ya know? RM ‘Spirit catcher.’ GVM ‘Spirit catcher’…Um well, American Indian, New Guinea, ah… When I put the titles on the back of the paintings, I usually start off with female, spirit catcher ‘cause that’s what it is, it’s catchin’ a spirit, or giving a spirit. I guess that tunes it into the spirit. Not even thinking, I just put that on there ‘cause that’s what it is, number one. So it’s a spirit catcher or spirit giver, whether it’s giving us a spirit or catching us a spirit, but that’s number one what it is. All of them. Yeah, ‘cause they’re catching a spirit. RM ‘Full moon’…what does a ‘full moon’ mean to you, cause it comes up a lot. GVM Yeah, yeah, I like the full moon period. I feel full with the full moon. I watch the moon; I study the moon all the time. And full moon is like a good time for me. It’s ah…it’s a peaceful time and it’s an open time for thought. RM ‘Reliquary.’ GVM …Female, reliquary, spirit…Spirits, the dead, ya know, being around and sayin’ hello, letting themselves be known. I used to be freaked out by it but now they’re friends, I’m cool; we’re all good with it. Yeah, I’m not hurtin’ anybody, ya know, I’m trying to help. I spent a lot of times in the graveyard, in Mexico. I used to go study the spirits at night, ya know; boy I learned a lot. At the time‐‐I was frightened half the time, but later on, it came to me, very interesting what a study‐ ‐beautiful. They’re here and they’re good, they’re good. RM What do you think about ‘outsider art’? Do you see yourself as an ‘outsider’?

GVM I don’t know what that is, ya know. It’s a label. I know the stuff that’s in that category, I find it very interesting. ‘Outsider’ because it’s not, what do they say, not in the public trend, or something. I don’t see any categories; if it’s got the energy, if it’s got the spirit‐‐it’s good, if it doesn’t, ya know, keep workin’ on it and they’ll get it. RM Are you fully on this Earth? GVM I’d like to think I am, but no, I don’t think so. I mean we’re here but…I guess I am and I’m not, I am and I’m not and I like it. I’m on Earth and I’m not on Earth, I’m kinda both. I think that’s where you have to be to find the mystery. RM Do you feel like painting is a way of biding time while you’re here, or it’s a natural part of your connection to the Earth? GVM Both, both. Biding time and connection to Earth with the painting, yeah. RM In the Patterson area, what place that you lived here, what place had the most effect on you? GVM I’ve lived in a lot around here and I don’t think any had any one effect on me, I think I just was being and just was opened to everything all the time. I get bored, everywhere and I don’t‐‐no I don’t think any one had any strong influence more than the other. RM What about your mother’s house? GVM I remember one time, it was weird what happened; they cut a tree down‐‐a little tiny, a dogwood in the front, and ah, talking about the skulls and stuff, the spirits? In that tree, ya know you see the lines and the age of the tree, there was a skull head, a spirit‐head, in the cut. It was there. And I saw it, and I said to my mom, I

was a kid, I said, “look at this.” She went, “oh yeah, man, that’s what it is,” Even in the trees it’s there‐‐ that was a very spiritual house. RM Where was it? GVM I was very lucky. Glenn Rock, right across the river from here, it was a good place to be, good place to grow up, very lucky. But there were spirits there; there were spirits in that house. I remember as a little, tiny kid, a little boy, my bed would be here, and I could see out in the hallway‐‐it was funny I just saw this the other night too‐‐and I would look into that hallway, even in the dark, and I would see a liquid environment, with almost eel‐like humans, floating around. And I still remember it to this day. And I’d tell my mom, ya know, “Mom, there’s something floating around out there.” She’d go, “you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming.” I saw it a lot though, in that hallway. They were there; spirits were there, sure. Spirits are everywhere. RM I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your father. GVM Cool guy, very cool guy. Fred, good guy. Yeah, Fred, Fredrick Van Maanen. Fabulous man. Behind ya, whatever you wanted to do, go for it, ya know? ‘I’m with ya, anything I can do to help you, I’m with ya.’ Great guy, great guy. RM Your parents ever say anything about making art? GVM Well, they thought ah, wished I’d got into something where I could make some money, as a kid. And some of the art used to freak my mother out, actually. I had some paintings in her basement and I’d go down there, and she’d have them covered with sheets ‘cause she didn’t want the gas guy to see the paintings ‘cause they were too weird. In fact, one time, she brought a friend in there to see them, and my mom said, “oh I don’t know what Gregory’s doing, what he’s doing”‐‐and her friend said, “no, they’re like Greek paintings,” ‘cause she could hook into the Greek thing. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about but my mom goes, “okay, Greek paintings,” so she kinda learned along with it. But my mom never…she was an artist, there’s some of her paintings right there actually. She

was a painter. Great painter. She was always doing‐‐making things‐‐my grandma too was a painter. Great stuff, self‐taught, all of them are self‐taught. RM I’m curious a little more about this spirit thing, are they physical manifestations you see or are they something that’s felt. What is it that you sense? How would you describe it? GVM That’s a good question ‘cause some of them you sense, some of them you see… I think there’s several different types of spirits; some you see, some you don’t, some you sense, some you feel. I’ve seen‐‐I sense them all the time, ah, some I’ve seen. Ghost‐types‐‐I’ve seen a lot of different types of ghosts; I think there’s ghosts and there’s spirits. The spirits you don’t see; they’re a sense, but the ghosts‐‐It was pouring rain, I was in the car with Junie, coming over by the post office over here, pouring rain, a deluge of water, and I looked over to the right, and there was, in a parking lot, through a fence, was an old, like a…like a pilgrim‐type looking man, with a carriage and two mules, with shiny boots and a hat, but they were dry. And he was just walking. That was, I think a ghost. A buddy of mine saw another carriage thing over here. I’ve seen ghosts after funerals of people that have passed. Some I’ve seen that look like a typical ghost‐‐foggy‐type, phantom‐ type of thing. Others I’ve seen with just like, displacement of air in their form, you can’t see it but it’s like in a heat, you see the heat on a hot road, but it’s like a human form. That would be I think, a ghost. But the spirits, especially the benevolent kind, I think you see in visions or dreams or with your eyes shut, I don’t think you see them floating around. I think there’s different types of spirits, and it’s an honor, to tune into these things. It’s a reward and it’s very helpful, to me. Nothing to be afraid of. RM Did you see them before‐‐were you conscious of this before Vietnam? GVM I always was, but not to the level I am now. Now I’m looking for them. Then, I would just see them, ya know, ya see something, you feel it, I didn’t know what it was. RM You mentioned before, that there was a time your earlier paintings were much more colorful. And your whole thing has been, as you said before, narrowing it down, focusing in, eliminating…

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 3.5 inches, 8.9 x 8.9 cm, GVM 1837

GVM Color, I don’t need it, you don’t need it. I guess because I did that‐‐I had experience with that. I think now, the primary subject is the is the spirit, I don’t really need color. With the newer paintings it’s all ephemeral, it’s not even on earth, it’s a different dimension where there isn’t a lot of color, like a night sky, with a cloud and a moon so it’s still attached to earth. Color’s a beautiful thing, and I love color but, it’s telling me what to do and that’s just where it’s gone so far. But black and white‐‐it’s good, it’s all it needs at this time. Then again it could change tomorrow, I don’t know. RM Speaking of tomorrow, what point in your career do you think you’re at? Beginning, middle? GVM I’m a beginner. And I hope to stay a beginner because that’s how you learn, keep becoming is a good thing, a good place to be. I’m honored to have all this stuff and it was hard work but enjoyable, what a learning experience. And I want to keep learning. RM Where are you moving? You’re moving and in a sense, everything you’ve built, your process of 20 years is about to change in a sense. Are you going recreate this place in your new place? GVM I would like to create the space that I have of freedom of thought. I want to keep freedom of thought. As far as the work, who knows, I don’t know. I never know from day to day, I’m amazed at anything that comes out of here. RM How long do you usually work at a time. Do you work till a painting’s finished or… When you start a painting do you paint till it’s finished, or do you stop, or there’s no set way? GVM Today they usually happen pretty quickly. I’m happy with that too, it happens quite rapidly, ‘cause I pretty much know what’s happening with it but I’m still amazed at what happens. I mean I know where I’m going but it changes and again, it’s just the mystery that’s just incredibly amazing. ‘Cause like I say, then tomorrow it’ll be different, so there’s really no answer.

RM Tell me about ‘brush‐cleaner’ paintings. GVM Brush‐cleaner paintings…those are little paintings that, I don’t like to waste paint, so you work on your main piece, and then instead of wiping the bush on a rag or something, you have another piece or smaller piece next to it. So you just nonchalantly or unconsciously make a mark and use that paint. So as you go along, you create things, from basically your unconscious, that turn into great paintings ‘cause you don’t know what the hell they are. And then you can work, and then it starts another painting, which is great and you don’t even know what the hell it is, so it’s more of a surprise. And some of them come out pretty good too. They have a different type of energy. Ah, again the mystery and fun, nice, good deal. RM But you don’t regard those as secondary, they’re just as important as… GVM They turn, even more important than the other ones sometimes. Sometimes they’re fast too, other times they take a while, ‘cause you gotta work with them more ‘cause you don’t know what you’re doing. They go into designs mainly…and to symbols. RM What do you do when you have a dry period? GVM Go crazy, you go crazy. Like a writer’s block, you go nuts, ‘cause you want to do something, but you can’t. You might as well just go for a walk ‘cause it’s not happening. I have to wait; I have to wait till it comes. Like I said, when the spirits are here, you’re on, when they’re not, forget it, you might as well listen to music or do something that makes you happy. RM So the spirits actually guide the painting? GVM I think so… we work together. ‘Cause when I’m doing something here, I’m lucky, I go into a different dimension that’s a natural high that’s ah, that’s fabulous. It’s like an act of meditation. A wonderful place to be.

RM Are you painting right now? Blank board, blank canvas. Where do you start? GVM Where do ya start? In the head, start in the head. Ah, maybe sometimes fill it in, maybe not, depends, never know. Blank canvas, lucky man, you have something to do, you can find something new. RM So would you say you start a painting in the beginning, middle, end? GVM Oh, with found material? Yeah it’s fabulous ‘cause it has an energy already. And it’s like alchemy ‘cause you’re taking stuff from, literally, the garbage and turning it into a thing of beauty‐‐this is good, ya know? Plus, it’s free. All ya gotta do is look like a monkey breakin’ it up on the side of the street and they think, there’s one, but who cares, you bring it here and paint the damn thing, ya know? RM What about the natural material? Like, say, the carcasses‐‐the turtle stuff, the fish stuff? GVM Endowed with energy. Endowed with super energy to add to that, what an honor, ya know? And again, it tells you, like a stone, it tells you. I was thinkin’ the other day about ‘manna’, the energy within things, ah, manmade magic with nature? Boy, if you can tune into that and see that, what a lucky place to be. To have any part of that, what a beautiful thing. And then to share it with others. You know how those pieces are, it’s like, my god, it’s unbelievable. To be affiliated with that in any way is wonderful. RM I’m gonna throw you some words off your own paintings, it’s like being hit with your own jokes. ‘Cruciform’. GVM Cruciform‐‐a cross‐like symbol. That’s a good one too because in a lot of my work, I have invisible cruciforms as well as regular cruciforms. And if you connect the invisible lines, like the one, ‘Hourglass Time’, if you make a cruciform and you connect the invisible lines, you have, magic symbols. And one’s an hourglass, which is time, it fits with the painting. Yeah, cruciform, magic symbol.

Untitled, 9/16/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1707

RM ‘Blood eyes’. GVM Blood eyes…the eyes of experience. You get splashed with blood, you learn something. Look at Christianity…blood, everything’s blood. War: blood. In the paintings, the blood eyes are the eyes of experience. RM ‘White feather’. GVM White feather…ah, always a magical feather. I’ve always had a strong feeling for white‐‐all feathers, but white ones are special. RM ‘Map’. GVM Map…the images are maps of consciousness, it’s just like, where are we, and they help to find out where we are. RM ‘Mojo’. GVM Mojo… magic, just keep it going, ya know? Keep your mojo rising. RM But you’re consistent with these, I mean, these repeat. GVM All of those and more. Yeah, they all fit and ah, as we go along, find more. RM You were born in Patterson? GVM Patterson General Hospital, it’s a parking lot now. Grew up in Glenn Rock, right across the river, like I said, a lucky kid. I had nature to play in, plus access to New York City, ya know, it was a great place; Patterson was a happening place at the

time. Good bunch of kids I knew, good bunch of pals, I still have a bunch of them that are alive. First 15 years, pretty much of a blur. RM So, what got you in trouble with the law? GVM Ah, just being a bored kid, when we had nothing to do. Didn’t…wasn’t tuned into making things. They should have, someone should’ve hooked onto the whole group that I was with and tuned us into some kind of creativity, ‘cause it would have helped. ‘Cause we all loved art class, we made great stuff. But they didn’t, they didn’t help us with that. But they helped us in their own way, whatever they did. RM So what’d you do, shoplift? GVM Ah, yeah, sure I shoplifted but I just liked to beat people up for some weird reason, I don’t know why‐‐I’m sorry for all the black eyes and all the people I hurt‐‐I got hurt too. Plus, they’d get us for loitering and the usual ‘kid on the block’ stuff. And like I said, it all added up to, what’d I have, atrocious assault and battery on a police officer; this wasn’t good, this was not a good one. And then another, I think, assault charge and it wasn’t lookin’ like I was a happy boy in the town like that, so went in the army. I think I was going, they were gonna put me in, and I said wait, I think I told the lawyer, I’ll go in the army, I’ll get the hell out of here and they went for it, as long as I get out of town. RM So you were like a typical, racist, white, New Jerseyan? GVM Not racist, I wasn’t racist, never racist, I was just a kid who was bored and getting into trouble. I got caught, a lot of guys didn’t. Van Maanen, now I didn’t know until Peter, that worked in the Cavin‐ Morris Gallery, he was Dutch, told me, Van Maanen means, ‘from more than one moon.’ I never knew this, until they told me. Then I asked my aunt‐‐Aunt Millie, ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ that’s amazing, that the name means that. She said, ‘no I know that, I just wanted you to find out for yourself.’

RM Any siblings or aunts, uncles, mother, any of those things; who…was there someone who was a kindred spirit in the sense that you could say, ‘did you see that?’ GVM Aunt Millie used to see things, she would tell me it was spirits, it’s spirits. They all understood and were tolerant of what I was seeing‐‐they seemed to understand; they never told me…that’s a good question. They never went into it, but they understood. They seemed to understand, all of them actually. Good question, never thought of it before. RM Even your friends…? GVM Oh, they thought I was nuts. But I wish they were around now so I could find out more about that, but they’re gone, but that’s a very good question. RM And, have you ever been back to Vietnam since you left? Can you imagine yourself going back and visiting? GVM I would probably see‐‐meet old friends there that I knew, their spirits. Ah, a buddy of mine was murdered down in Mexico and I know where he was and I know the house he was in, in El Central San Miguel Allende, and I know that his spirit is waiting for me to go down there to free him or see him. I know that, and one day I’ll probably do that. Vietnam, I might go back there, for the jungle, the people were beautiful, I might do that. Not first on the list but that’d be fascinating. I’d probably step on a landmine though, boom, it would all be over. Ya know? RM You said before, which is a good segue to ‘stepping’…your experience there seemed to have such a profound impact on you that it sounds like when you step off a bus, or you step into a village in Mexico, or if you have a cup of coffee at a diner, you sometimes get these images of your experience there. GVM Yeah, it’s always there, all the time. Sometimes more prevalent than others, but

it’s always there, yeah. You have to kind of learn to live with it. The whole experience, the whole thing. You have to learn to manage, that’s why the paintings and the sculpture help me so much, ‘cause like I said, it’s medicine. And then, somebody once said, ‘what does your art mean to you?’ And I said, just off the cuff, it was on the phone, she had a little show going and she said, ya know, I have to have something; what does your art mean to you? And I just thought of it, and I think it’s true today; art is self‐preservation, sometimes shared with others. And that kind of answers your question. Medicine, it’s all medicine. RM That night, ‘the Night of White Light’, it just seems to have such huge impact, if you looked up, do you remember what the weather was like that day. Do you remember? GVM It was a rebirth. Ya know, instant‐‐it’s another birthday of learning and of advancement. Puts me into a different dimension and I’ve never been the same ‐‐I use it every day or it uses me. And it gives me a philosophy of existence that you can’t buy it, where’re you gonna buy it? You have to live it, it’s a real‐life experience. And I would like to talk to some people, I don’t know any, that have a similar experience, because it would be quite a club, I think, probably, pretty positive people. RM Well you said in the hospital after you got hit, you started talking to people and you were surprised. GVM Yeah they didn’t know….I still haven’t talked to anyone that’s had the exact same experience. Some have those near‐death things, but mine was a little different, it was personal. I didn’t see anything, but I heard the voice, it was a very calm voice. I didn’t know who it was, Jesus, God, angels‐‐guardian angels, spirits. I’ll never know who it was ‘til I’m dead, I think then I’ll meet them and it’ll be a nice hello. RM Since that time, is there any other profound moments, meeting a person, seeing an event? GVM I think with something like that, an experience like that, you live it every day. You

have no choice. And it’s a strength you’ve been given, to help the universe, that’s my job, I do the best I can with it, some work, some don’t. But it’s a power and a thankfulness of being alive that can be used to benefit myself and others. Ah, it’s a beautiful position to be in. And I’m honored. RM What do you feel about 9/11 and this whole thing that’s going on, in relation to the ‘Nam experience? GVM What’d they say, war is hell. War is war, it’s a horrendous, horrible situation, I hate it. I wish so much for peace in the universe, but I guess humans just can’t get along. And with all the medicine paintings and everything I’m trying hard to bring a unity to humanity and spirits and I hope it works, I’m still workin’ on it.

2007 PATERSON, NEW JERSEY THIS IS AN ABBREVIATED INTERVIEW INTERVIEW BY RANDALL MORRIS FILM BY JEFF WOLF COURTESY OF THE JOHN MICHAEL KOHLER ARTS CENTER

WATCH THE FULL INTERVIEW

Untitled, 3/13/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1686

Untitled, 11/22/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1676

Untitled, 3/7/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1683

Untitled, 11/2308, Acrylic/board, 4 x 5 inches, 10.2 x 12.7 cm, GVM 1667

Untitled, 3/16/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1687

Untitled, 8/4/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1713

Untitled, 3/2/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1694

Untitled, 10/18/08, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 4 inches, 8.9 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1779

Untitled, 11/13/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1766

Untitled, 10/23/08, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 4 inches, 8.9 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1739

Untitled, 1/9/09, Acrylic/board, 3.75 x 5 inches, 9.5 x 12.7 cm, GVM 1692

Untitled, 11/5/08, Acrylic/board, 3.25 x 4 inches, 8.3 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1740

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1824

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1820

Untitled, 10/232/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1728

Untitled, 11/8/08, Acrylic/board, 4.5 x 4.5 inches, 11.4 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1725

Untitled, 10/23/08, Acrylic/board, 4.5 x 4.5 inches, 11.4 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1724

Untitled I, 9/24/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1789

Untitled, 5/18/08, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 3.75 inches, 8.9 x 9.5 cm, GVM 1660

Untitled, 9/12/09, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1703

Untitled, 11/21/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1770

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4.25 x 4.5 inches, 10.28 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1843

Untitled, 11/11/06, Acrylic/board, 3.5 x 4.5 inches, 8.9 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1759

Untitled, 11/17/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1730

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 1831

Untitled, 5/14/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4 inches, 10.2 x 10.2 cm, GVM 1648

Untitled, 5/21/09, Acrylic/board, 4.125 x 5 inches, 10.5 x 12.7 cm, GVM 1752

Untitled, 8/25/08, Acrylic/board, 4 x 4.5 inches, 10.2 x 11.4 cm, GVM 17701

Untitled, 7/5/09, Acrylic/board, 3.75 x 5.75 inches, 9.5 x 14.6 cm, GVM 1750

Untitled, 2009, Acrylic/canvas, 4x 4.5 inches, 10.2x 50.8 cm, GVM 1765

GREGORY VAN MAANEN BORN: November 3, 1947 in Paterson, New Jersey

EDUCATION:

Independent Studies at Ramapo College in New Jersey on G.I. Bill Independent Studies at Instituto San Miguel Allende in Mexico

SOLO EXHIBITIONS:

2009: The Happy Survivor, Memorial Arts Gallery, Rochester, NY 2002: Spirit Windows and The Void: Paintings by Gregory Van Maanen, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1998: Head/Spirit/Sky: Paintings by Gregory Van Maanen, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1994: Mason Gross School of the Arts, Rutgers University, Princeton, NJ 1991: Gregory Van Maanen, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1990: Gregory Van‐Maanen, Janet Fleisher Gallery, Philadelphia, PA 1989: Gregory Van‐Maanen, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1988: Spirit Paintings by Gregory Van Maanan, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS: 2009: American Story, Kohler Arts Center, Sheboygan, WI Essentially Us, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 2008: Chtonic Youth, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

New Views, Re‐Views, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

2006: Where We Come From, Inaugural Exhibition, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

Outsider Art Fair, Puck Building, New York, NY 2005: Chthonic: Works by Neuve Invention Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

Important Works by Self‐Taught Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 2003: High on Life, American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore, MD Outsider Art: The Inner Worlds of Self‐Taught Artists, The Gallery at Bristol‐Meyers Squibb, Princeton, NJ

Insights: Self‐taught Artists for the 21 Century, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 2002: On Going Home Again, Paterson Museum, Paterson, NJ Movement: Naif, Galeria La Sirena, Tucson, AZ Hard‐Core Visionary: Beyond Pathological, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 2000: Ignoring Borders; New Artists, New Works, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

Man‐ifest: Visions of Masculinity by Self‐Taught Men, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1999: Eclectic Selections: Art in Paterson at the End of the Twentieth Century, Organized by Giovanna Cecchetti (catalog) E‐scapes: Passion of Place, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1998: From the Heart to the Hand: New Ancient Ideas by Self‐Taught Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Sixth International Outsider Art Fair, New York, NY 1997: Het Format, Museum de Stadshof, Zwolle, The Netherlands Abstractions by Self‐Taught Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Fifth International Outsider Art Fair, New York, NY Outsider Art: Four Artists, Westminster Arts Center, Bloomfield College, Bloomfield, NJ 1996: The Widening Gyre, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Art and Soul, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Fourth International Outsider Art Fair, New York, NY 1995: Tree of Life: The Inaugural Exhibition of the American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore, MD

Aesthetic Mystic, Gallery of Living Artists, New York, NY Outside the Canon, Cavin‐Morris Galley, New York, NY Third International Outsider Art Fair, NY, NY Hotel Triton Contemporary Art Fair, San Francisco, CA 1994: Amulets, Dreams, and the Voices of Gods, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1993: Pure: Gregory Van Maanen, Jon Serl, Brian Rutenberg, Bernard Maisner, Diane Green, Forrest Bess, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1992: Tenth Anniversary Show/Self‐Taught Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY

Reflexes & Reflections: National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum, Chicago, IL

1991: Group Show, Delaware Museum for Contemporary Arts, Wilmington, DE Praise Songs For The Numinous, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Group Show, Randall Gallery, St.Louis, MO 1990: Group Show, Marquardt Gallery, Venice, CA Group Show, Elaine Benson Gallery, Long Island, NY American Mysteries: 10 Gallery Artists, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY 1989: Group Show, Helander Gallery, Palm Beach, FL A Density of Passions, The New Jersey State Museum, Trenton, NJ 1988: Shape‐Shifting, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY The Old and The Ancient, Cavin‐Morris Gallery, New York, NY Spark, Paterson Museum, Paterson, NJ Summer Show, Janet Fleisher Gallery, Philadelphia, PA Universal Expression, Janet Fleisher Gallery, Philadelphia, PA

PUBLICATIONS: 2009: Umberger, Leslie. “American Story,” John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2009. Low, Stuart. “Spirit of an Artist: Vietnam War veteran paints the healing forces that have guided his life”, Democrat and Chronicle, February 1, 2009.

Finkel, Jori. “Way off the Beaten Path, Letting the Outsiders In,” The New York Times, July 12, 2009.

1999: Cechitti, Giovanna. “Eclectic Selections: Art in Paterson at the End of the Twentieth Century, “ The Patterson, Museum, 2009. Zimmer, William. “A City’s Artists on the Cusp Between the Past and the Future,” The New York Times, Jersey Edition, August 8, 1999.

1995: Hoffberger, Rebecca, Roger Manly and Colin Wilson. Tree of Life: The Inaugural Exhibition of the American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore, MD, 1995. 1992: Eliel, Carol and Barbara Freeman. Parallel Visions, Exhibiton Catalgoue, Los Angeles & Princeton: Los Angeles County Museum of Art and Princeton University, 1992. 1990: Sozanski, Edward. “Gregory Van Maanen At Janet Fleisher Gallery,” Philadelphia Inquirer, November 22, 1990.

Morris, Randall. Gregory Van Maanen; The Wolf Survives, Chemical Imbalance Magazine, Vol. 2, No. 2, 1990. 1989: Brenson, Michael. “A Density of Passions,” The New York Times, August 8, 1989. Raynor, Vivian. “Exercising The Mind As Well As The Eye,” The New York Times, August 13, 1989. Russell, John. “Along Suburban Byways,” Cosmopolitan Artways, August 4, 1989. “Time Off: Diversions and Excursions Oct. 17‐30,” The Wall Street Journal, October 17, 1989. Weld, Allison. A Density of Passions, Exhibition Cataogue, Trenton: New Jersey State Museum, 1989. 1988: DuBois, Peter C. “Self‐Taught Art at Cavin‐Morris,” Art/World, October 20, 1988.

PUBLIC COLLECTIONS: New Jersey State Council of the Arts, Trenton ,NJ Jersey City Museum, Jersey City, NJ Newark Public Library, Newark, NJ Montclair Art Museum, Montclair, NJ Morris Museum. Morristown, NJ Noyes Museum, Oceanville, NJ

New Orleans Museum of Art, New Orleans, LA First Bank Of Minneapolis, Minneapolis, MN New Jersey State Museum, Trenton, NJ

National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum, Chicago IL Zimmerli Art Museum, New Brunswick, NJ

FOR FURTHER INQUIRES PLEASE CONTACT: CAVIN-MORRIS GALLERY 210 ELEVENTH AVENUE, SUITE 201 NEW YORK, NY 10001 T 212 226 3768 F 212 226 0155 INFO@CAVINMORRIS.COM WWW.CAVINMORRIS.COM