Beep Beep Honk Honk Motherfucker (and the bird)

2012o0004 Hacked Memory: Saturday Night FDR oil on linen 12 x 16 inches

2012o0004 Hacked Memory: Saturday Night FDR Michael Hanley and Old Holland Beligian oil on linen 12 x 16 inches

 
Is anybody sober aside from me?

Hacked Memory: East New York

Hacked Memory: East New York

Hacked Memory: East New York Tires 12o8 Oil, RF Stick and charcoal on Belgian Linen 14 x 11 inches

HACKED MEMORIES: West Village Passage (12o_3)

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Hacked Memories: Passage (12o_3) 9 x 12 inches oil on linen

iphone temporary image; hot off the press

Nota Bene: For the remainder of this blog, Views from a Yellow Cab will be referred to asĀ  VFAYC and the new body of work HACKED MEMORIES will be referred to asHM.

Got blow? Get blown. VIEWS FROM A YELLOW CAB 1980 oil

Views From a Yellow Cab VFAYC Boys' Night Out 80o9 Oil on Linen Jonathan Herbert
VFAYC Boys’ Night Out 80o9 16 x 20 inches Oil on linen

Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?

Homage to the "Ladies' Room" at the Mudd Club. 1980 VFAYC

1980o_0008: [views from a yellow cab] MUDD CLUB LADIES ROOM 80o8

VFAYC Mudd Club Ladies Room 80o8 oil on linen 16 x 20 inches

I was often in the ladies’ at the Mudd Club. The place was crowded all the time: people snorting coke; people fucking; people shooting dope. It certainly wasn’t segregated along gender lines. I can’t remember if I ever even pissed in the mens’ room.

Homage to the “Ladies’ Room” at the Mudd Club. 1980 VFAYC

1980o_0008: [views from a yellow cab] MUDD CLUB LADIES ROOM 80o8

VFAYC Mudd Club Ladies Room 80o8 oil on linen 16 x 20 inches

I was often in the ladies’ at the Mudd Club. The place was crowded all the time: people snorting coke; people fucking; people shooting dope. It certainly wasn’t segregated along gender lines. I can’t remember if I ever even pissed in the mens’ room.

Four Hundred NYC Cab Drivers Nicknamed Me "MADMAN"

It’s true, I was. Back in the late 70’s and early 80’s, during the days when New York was metamorphosing from a broke and dangerous town to a rich and dangerous town, I drove the night shift for Metro Cab. We had four hundred drivers working there. I was making money in order to art supplies (well, actually to buy drugs and booze), while dreaming of an art career and failing to show up for some very big opportunities, most memorably Robert Miller personally inviting me to bring work to him at his now AAA-list gallery. I don’t even know if he’s alive, but the gallery sure is.

Night Driver selfportrait oil on linen 24 inch square 1985

Night Driver (SelfPortrait) 85o01 oil on linen 24 x 24 inches

As you can see, at least by the title, this painting is a self-portrait. It is a temporary insert, shot with my iPhone4, until I can shoot it properly with the high-end equipment and strobes that I usually use. I dug the piece out of my 93-year old Mom’s basement when I was visiting the other day. I drove my cab drunk, stoned and crazed. I also painted simultaneously while driving. Not oils, but rather pencil, ink or watercolor in special nearly square sketchbooks that I carried with me always. Now and again I will be posting more Views from a Yellow Cab which I have been scanning from those old notebooks.

This painting is a special form of realism; I am grateful that I have not had a drink or a self-prescribed drug in over 24 years. I’m in love with whom I have become; while my work may still be gut-wrenching at times, it is never such a clear view of the interior of Hell.