A charcoal on canvas from 1979. Print 17. 5" X 23"

This painting is from a series of like minded paintings. Individual works, but focused on painting. I've entitled the grouping “ Painting about Painting”.The series explores the realm of painting through the medium of painting. This particular work makes a symbolic connection between hot rods and art, and vise versa. Hot Rod culture is rich with myth making. Cartoons for one, and other happy things like sculls, shrunken heads, car plaques, and club logos, to mention just a few. This series spans over 30 years, and explores everything from starving artists, competing categories of art, to creation's final showdown with nuclear annihilation.

This particular work focuses on a ritual from back in the day. The night we cruised, which was actually 3 nights, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Cruise Night was the way we referred to it back in high school. Today, Cruise Night is a location where hot rodders gather, hangout in the parking lot, and talk cars. Here is Southern California they are generally sponsored by restaurants who are either trying to stir up business, or restaurants that are in trouble, as my car buddies and I have sadly closed many.

Cornucopia of Cool is a collection of Car Culture iconography. We often seem mesmerized by ancient culture and their capacity for creating symbols, and myth making, while not recognizing we are still doing so in the here and now. It is something we are actually quite good at. Sports mascots are a good example for one.

For anyone who lived in southern California during the 1950’s, 60’s, and 70s, it was no secret that the worlds largest and most packed cruise strip was Van Nuys Boulevard in Van Nuys California. Its reputation became internationally recognized. It was no secret that most of this traffic had a destination, which was the Van Nuys Bob's Drive-in. It all began in 1951 when Bob’s Big Boy Drive-in opened in Van Nuys. There were few if any places that young people were welcome, as Bob Wian liked young people, and viewed them as our future. So it’s no wonder that all the Bob's Drive-ins were popular with young people, and of course as a cruise night location.

"Cruising Main Street” is a representation of the almost comical ritual of cruising, people leisurely driving their automobiles. A ritual that has been with us since the dawn of the automobile. The term Cruising has been most commonly associated with young people parading back and forth what they consider to be the local hot spots of activity, to see, and be seen. As a youngster, I fantasized being either an automobile artist, or cartoonist, but eventually became more interested is the larger world of art, and became far more interested the art of expression. Yet, I suspect my earliest fantasies of becoming a cartoonist still have some impact on the way I paint, and see things.

This rather distorted, and comical painting was meant to be a characterization of Cruising Van Nuys boulevard once it became impossible to use the boulevard for domestic things like going store, or even leaving your house if you lived in the surrounding neighborhoods, as it was for me, having my studio and residence on Ventura Boulevard within walking distance of Van Nuys Boulevard. For those who were not witness to Van Nuys Boulevard during its heyday, the scale of it grew until the size of it simply boggled the mind. It was only about 4 miles of an ultra-wide boulevard jammed with every conceivable kind of cool car imaginable, parading back and forth. The parking spaces that lined the street were packed with hot rods, customs, street machines, sports cars and muscle cars. Every parking space filled with kids and their cars. At it’s peak, the neighborhoods adjacent to the boulevard were bound with bumper to bumper traffic, kids circling through the neighborhoods to turn around and rejoin the cruise. By now, the cruising ritual was alive all around Southern California. The phenomenon of cruising was unique to it’s time, not only to Van Nuys Boulevard, but, the entire Southern California area, and eventually, the rest of the country. While cruising Bob’s and Van Nuys Boulevard was only part of a much larger venue, it was the place among places, the heart of cruising. The lore of Van Nuys Boulevard became legendary with all who who love their cars, and like to cruise.

The Sentinel A.K.A. "Dragons of Spring Place” The boarder beyond the red line on print is actually gray, and the cover art date on print is incorrect, the cover art was for February 1997 (From the Pulp Art Collection) This pulp art cover was painted for the magazine of "Fantasy & Science Fiction", for a story by Robert Reed, Entitled "The Dragons Of Spring Place." It was for February issue of 1997. (oil on canvas 1996)

Gearhead is one of 3 symbolistic paintings in this collection.

This odd little gas station was built in 1910, when automobiles were about the size of a carriage, in later years the gravity gas pumps were replaced, but there was little room for the later model automobiles such as this 1935 Ford 3 Window Coupe, to gas up. As a consequence it eventually became a garage, but the gas pumps remained in place. These early gas stations had much more character than the uninteresting mass produced uninteresting cheese boxes built today.

A 1939 chopped Lincoln Zephyr, accompanied by a chopped 1930 Ford Model A Coupe at rest in front of a redecorated portion of a strip mall in hopes of attracting customers. San Fernando Valley landscape in background. Painted in 2007

24” X 36"

If I had a dime for every time my father drug me cross country down some remote road, or highway in the middle of nowhere, I’d be a rich man, I’d say to myself. There never seemed to be anything to look at worth looking at. We always traveled in some broken down clunker, or beater, that he had purchased just for the trip. He didn't want to drive the good car with air conditioning. And of course it would be in the middle of summer. It would be so hot I would hallucinate, and my imagination would paint the roadside with with interesting places to stop, as I embellished the country side with trees, scrubs and sights I would prefer to see. He taught me how to drive as soon as my feet could reach the foot pedals. I was about 12. He was hoping that would keep me occupied, and busy enough, so he could sleep, but also likely to keep me from strangling him. He knew I hated these trips and that I saw them as torture, they were. Yet, one of the things I do recall however, was the occasional age old motor lodge with individual little houses, the very first motels, and road side mom and pop eateries, that either still stood, was still in business, or abandon and in ruin. It was like a drive through time. These same kinds of places also existed in the big cities, and back at home if one bothered to look carefully. Sometimes it took some concentrated looking. This taught me something of the art of observation, And as you might imagine, they eventually found their way into my paintings in later years. Likely because I viewed them as a kind of road side art, that captured the feel of yesterday, and a time gone by. Such as the Last Chance Gas n Dine. Located along the scenic route, cruising back through the portal of time. Because painting is often an expression, not a documentary.

Admittedly the title is somewhat ambiguous. I was thinking more of "the last of the hot spots”, but also a story by Roger Zelazny I read in Omin, a science fiction magazine from years that went out of print a couple of years prior to painting this. This painting was my reaction to watching the destruction of the San Fernando Bob's, the Van Nuys Bob's, and the Canoga Parks Bob's Big Boy Drive-ins. It's hard to imagine Cruising without Bob's Big Boy Drive-ins as they, like other Bob's were the heratbeat of Cruising Culture, friendly towards young people. I recall the feeling of seeing the last standing part of the Canoga Park Bob's, a lone standing Canopy standing like a sentinel, protecting the memories all who love their cars and shared the experiene of coming Bob's when Cruising was king. The canopy is accompanied by a 27 T roadster, running a 327 Chevy engine

Science has determined that modern man, all people living on earth today are one, and that there really is no such thing as race. Skin color and other differences are the consequence of such things as ultraviolet light , latitude, and climate, and ultimately modern humans all came from Africa. Interestingly, archeologist continue to make discoveries, and have found a number of human variants that date back to the ice age, and perhaps further. Some with skeletons measuring ten feet tall like ones discovered in South America. Among other interesting discoveries are some of the oldest shelters, or dwelling constructed from mammoth bones dating back to the ice age. It is unknown why human variants such as the Neanderthals became extinct, but the search continues.

Marty’s diner was a small metal 10 stool diner manufactured by the Valentine diner company out of Wichita, Kansas. These prefab little diners were loaded on to the back of a flatbed truck and delivered to the customer nearly ready to go. All the pots, pans, dishes, glasses, coffee cups, and silver were packed inside. All that was needed was to have the diner attached to the concrete foundation, and the gas, plumbing, and electricity hooked up. Considering these diners were small, they were also well designed and seemed rather roomy. To me the whole ready to go package was rather amazing. My first job was in such a place This particular one had a reverse floor plan from the one I worked at. Otherwise it was identical.

No addiction to motor vehicles would be complete without a stint with motorcycles, I had some, I liked them, rode "em, and painted them. The motorcycle paintings from my early days as an artist are rather raw and crude, yet they had passion. The early work reveals much, first, that my desire to paint exceeded my technical ability. Whether intended or not, these early works capture a measure of the psychedelic 1960s. Learning to paint over a life time is a journey, and these early works are from back at the beginning of learning about using paint, canvas board, and canvas.. This particular painting was my response to seeing "Easy Rider". The slow transition from painting on plywood, to poster board on to illustration board, and eventually canvas board and then to stretched canvas was quite a leap in a short time. I wasn’t exactly rolling in cash, nor was I exactly fixed on the perfect art materials , so when I wanted to paint, any blank surface might be a candidate. In this case it was canvas board, and the medium: acrylics.

If you ever owned an old flathead Ford, and had to stop for a signal, you would probably put your foot on the clutch, put your other foot on the break, and leave it in gear. However when you popped the clutch, meaning you took your foot off the clutch, there was a fair chance you would leap forward and stall the engine. Then when you tried to start it you might find you flood the engine. This could be a death wish in this circumstance. As I managed to have this experience, and then had nightmares about it.

A 1948 Chevy Fleetline is the central vehicle parked at the A&W Drive- In. The Inspiration for this painting came about as a result of attending the West Coast Customs car show in Paso Robles, California. This small town drive-in is exactly like my after school hang out in high school. It burned down before I graduated and was replaced with a parking lot. By the time the 1960's rolled around the fashion in fast food restaurants was beginning to change. The drive-in car service and carhop Idea was starting to fade as a choice for dining out. The replacement was either the drive through or to take the leap and actually go out to dinner in a restaurant or coffee shop which required you to get out of the car. Perhaps the novelty just wore off or the drive-in had become such a teen hang out it was driving the regular customers away. In-any-event, drive-In's from coast to coast began to close down due to a lack of customers. Never-the-less, the A&W in Paso Robles still stood, back in 1989. But I understand it was finally torn down.

Back in the In1950s, 60s, and 70s, there was a standing joke, if you needed a Cop, call the Donut Shop. Police gathering at the donut shop was a noticeable phenomenon, so it became the subject this painting. Perhaps the best example was the Wenchells Donut Shop in Reseda, California, where on occasion there were so many police cars, it seemed like a police substation, and that struck me as funny, so the painting was on. It was first published as a limited edition print where it gained a kind of cult following, and it was popular with the police as well. It was then printed as a poster to celebrate 1976 Bicentennial, but it was printed out of register on cheap paper and Bicentennial was spelled incorrectly. A number of years later a police officer friend of mine asked me while at the local cruise night, how my clocks were selling down at the Police Academy. Apparently someone had stole Image and was selling clocks with tis painting on it. So I went down there to investigate, took a witness, and bought a couple of samples as evidence. When I confronted them, they got nasty, and the manager left treating phone calls on my message machine. It was an interesting situation, the police breaking the law. My art work had been gleaning a lot of press back then, and a major new paper wanted to run a front page article on it, but I knew there was only one or two people involved, not the entire police department. But, I still had to file suite to put an end to it. Oddly, I had just republished the the work and the police academy could have purchased some legitimate prints to sell, for far less than the cheesy clocks. It’s not everyone who works hard all week, and has someone else receives their pay check, but that’s what this kind of thing amounts to. Today there are new thieves to sue on the internet. While the police, and others still enjoy the light hearted painting.

For as long as there’s been automobiles there have been car clubs, and a time and a place when those clubs would meet up. And; while a great many clubs gather for all kinds of occasions on the weekends, Club Night has become a midweek tradition for one simple reason, a need for a midweek escape to breakup the monotony of the work week. What better cure for the midweek doldrums than hangin’ out with your pals for a few hours chowin’ down and talking cars. There are also practical reasons for the midweek get together, like having time to make plans for up coming car shows, club activities, searching out car parts, finding a hot deal on a new rod, or to get some much needed help and advice on a getting that ol’ jalopy back on the road. It is easy to underestimate the value and importance of club night. Perhaps because it is a reoccurring event; we take it for granted, as we are not trying to measure, weigh, or analyze it. This is likely why we take so many of these prized experiences for granted only to miss them later as they become part of our personal history.

Creating humorous fictional magazine covers has been a favorite since my days in high schools, here’s one from the 1990s; Like always, usually something ridicules. Here a Hot Rod Monster poses next to his Chevy V-9 powered T, featuring a five 3-barrel manifold plus carburators. Interestingly the fictional magazine title became the inspiration for an actual magazine, Rod & Kulture Magazine when the magazine was in formation, and we were looking for a name for the new magazine, born out of the ashes of the original Car Kulture Deluxe magazine.

This was the second of 3 fictional Rod Cult magazine cover paintings featuring a car guy dealing with Murphy’s Law as it pertains to the complications of a simple installation of a cigarette lighter, when easy simple things take a turn and Murphy’s is applied. Both Rod Cult fictional magazine cover paintings became the inspiration for an actual magazine, Rod & Kulture Magazine when the magazine was in formation, and we were looking for a name for the new magazine, born out of the ashes of the original Car Kulture Deluxe magazine.

Every time I drive by one of these little independent used car lots. It reminds me of my early child hood. When my father and uncle Palmer were in the car, truck and farm vehicle business. In Kansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Texas. I was much too young to understand much about this business, but I remember I wanted to be part of it somehow. The lot boys that worked at the various car lots were all teenagers, and it looked to me like they were having a lot of fun. So one summer, when I was about fourteen, I applied for a job as a lot boy for a used car dealership on Van Nuys Blvd.in Van Nuys, California. At the time I was excited about my new job, because I got to be around cars all day. At home I built models and drew pictures of them, and outside I worked on my 1937 Ford. I was still 2 years from illegal driving age, even though I had a special drivers license that allowed me to drive to work. It only made those 2 years seem like centuries. I guess I had cars on the brain, but I was pleased that I had something to do to keep me busy and out of trouble. My job consisted of starting all the cars in the morning to warm them up, so they would start for the customers. next up was to wash, vacuum and generally keep them clean. But It was a shady operation at best. The guy that owned the place, well, his favorite suit seemed to say It for me. It was a green and beige plaid, and he wore a straw hat that some how made me think of Bob Hope. He chewed on a big nasty cigar that left stains on his shirt and he looked like a carnie. I began to realize that all these cars were just a bunch of tired wrecks that were spit shined just good enough so that some day dreaming sucker would buy them. They tried all the tricks, turning back speedometers, filling the crankcase with oil as thick honey, cheap paint and seat covers. These were all the common ploys. The pitchmen sat perched waiting for suckers while the plastic flags slapped in the breeze. It all seemed kind of surreal, I knew when started painting these car paintings that I just had to paint one of these little car dealerships.

I do not recall traveling Route 66 as a great joy. If anything Route 66 is a reminder of just how harsh and foreboding a trip across country can be. I remember driving for days and days and days through an unchanged desert landscape where the mountains in the distance remained in the distance and never grew any closer. Traveling in an old car without air conditioning across the desert in the middle of the summer you get to experience all the aspects of hot as hell. Of the million or so times we traveled 66 every single trip was in the summer. You could always wait and wait and wait for the sun to go down and the cool of evening when the temperature would drop to a chilly 105 degrees. I sometimes wonder if the roadside novelties I remember from along 66 were actually there or simply a mirage or desert heat hallucinations. The billboards were a constant reminder that there was always someplace to stop just ahead, always just ahead, only 325 miles to Flying- C - Gas and Cafe. There were those. Burma-Shave signs each with a word or two that would eventually add up to a slogan: Does Your Husband - Misbehave - Grunt And Grumble, Rant And Rave? - Shoot The Brute Some - Burma-Shave. You almost needed them to keep you from nodding off altogether. Of course there were the hot spots like the Painted Desert. I remember thinking I'm glad somebody's finally doing something with it and there was the Petrified Forest. It only figured that the only trees you would find on route 66 would be petrified. The Grand Canyon and Barringer's Meteorite Crater help fill the desert palette with a majestic harsh quality that was somehow magically captivating. The Route was also like a carnival of cheesy attractions all designed to turn a fast buck. Animal attractions, outlandish zoos, curio shops, Indian trading post and places like Two Guns, Arizona, that promoted an Apache Death Cave where as the Legend goes Apaches killed 40 Navajo men, women and children. This was in a time when no thought was given to exploiting stereotypes. If your head wasn't still reeling from all the excitement, you were still conscious and you hadn't had your fill. You could saw some logs in one of the many Tee Pees at Wigwam Motel on Route 66.

The Mallicoat Twins defeat Stone, Woods & Cook twice in Long Beach California, in 1963, once in class, and once in eliminator bracket, after being challenged by Fred Stone to a 2 out of 3 match race after being accused of cheating by running a 370 cubic inch engine instead of a legal 327. After the cars were verified by officals, the Mallicoat Brothers beat them twice at Lions Dragstrip.

In the stillness of a summer morning, the city slowly wakes up. Ready for a leisurely drive, a 1967 Corvette, and 1960 Chevy, while their owners grab the supplies for trip ahead. The last vestiges of. peace, and innocents before their owners would be shipped off to the horrors of a war they did not create under the guise of protecting freedom. Their prized possessions sit on blocks in their parents garage, for their sons who would never return. Their fathers and mothers would one day drive them, to in some way feel close to the sons they so dearly loved.I was fortunate to come home, but so many of my friends did not, and I was witness to their parents grief. And, it would always bring me to tears. This is why art is an expression, not simply the painting of things.

Some years ago I took a drive to down town Los Angeles, the reason escapes me now, but I had my camera. When I past what seemed to be vast open area, I noticed the Pan Pacific building and I just had to stop and admire it. But, before I got out of the car, I realized I had my camera so I proceeded to take photographs of it before some greedy land developer destroyed it, to put in a parking lot, or strip mall. It was surrounded by a park, and no one seemed to be there, except two young men spray painting graffiti on a wall next to the park. One noticed me, and lifted his shirt so show me his firearm. I pointed at my hand painted car, and made a gesture like I was painting. He understood, noticed the car, and gave me a thumbs up. Before I was done taking photographs of the Pan Pacific they were gone, so I walked down to investigate. There was lots of hate painted on that wall, and this stuck in my memory, and became the inspiration for this dark painting.

The Auschwitz Circus (From the "Pulp Art Collection”) This pulp art cover painting for the magazine Fantasy & Science Fiction was for a story by Matthew Wells was for the June issue 1996. This print actually has a gray boarder beyond the red line. This is a very interesting and imaginative story, well worth reading.

A 1929 Model A Roadster, High Boy and a 1939 Merc Custom share space at the neighborhood A&W root beer stand and drive-in.The setting in this particular painting was located in Paso Robles, California, however this could have been most any where, as A&W used the same architecture for many of their locations, like we had in my town. This rather beat up old Model A roadster was of the type my brothers and their pals put together in the early 1950's. Because they had Little money to work with, the hot rods they built were quite often very rough to begin with. Mis-match tires and wheels, worn through paint revealing 12 previous paint jobs and an Indian blanket for a seat cover. This variety of hot rod in it's rough early stages was referred to by a number of handles, the heap, junker, clunker, pile, and most commonly the beater, or jalopy.

Along with our disappearing yesterdays, and vintage automobiles, are some of the ways we once enjoyed doing most everything in our cars. Meaning period architecture that was created for people and their automobiles to enjoy going to the movies without leaving their cars behind. Sadly most of these iconic examples have been torn down as the the interest in doing so faded, because people discovered they could actually get out of their cars, or the romance of doing near everything in the car began to fade. Many of these drive-ins featured fabulous murals, such as the Van Nuys Drive-in, and of course the El Monte. Both reflecting the Mexican influence, and heritage of early California. Both are represented in this collection.

Amusement parks have always had a hypnotic effect on me. When I was a kid I use to go to P.O.P., Pacific Ocean Park, it seemed like most every day during the summer. In later years I worked at the Del Mar Fair, where I operated a plastic toy vending machine that molded toys out of a kind of hot wax and plastic. I use to think of it as the kind of vending machine that Doctor Frankenstein would have come up with, if he were in the vending machine business. The machine made these hideous little figures that were as cheesy as they were crappy, the fascination was in watching the machine make the toy under a plastic bubble, like a magnet, this attracted kids to try and stop the molds coming together, by sticking their hand up the trap door where the toy would be deposited at the completion of the coin op cycle. Once they managed to get their hand up inside and disrupt the molds coming together, the hot plastic wax would be injected in, covering the hand and arm of its screaming victims. The arm and hand were easier to get in, than to get out, so you would have to wait for the cycle to complete it’s run. Vincent Price would have loved to have one of these babies in “The House Of Wax. Next to my torture pit at the Del Mar Fair was the Freak Show, staring Burtha the two headed cow, which only helped complete the twisted little picture. In following years I worked for a carnival, a circus, and then back to the vending machines at Marine Land and Disney Land. After hours at an amusement park is like a giant monster that has fallen asleep, knowing, in the back of your mind, that at any moment it might spring back to life and get you, like in some B movie thriller.

If you travel much you have likely seen the still standing ruins, of yesterday that still stand like beacons in the countryside reminding us our ancestors once traveled this way long ago. This was out on route 99 back in the 90s, maybe it still is.

When I first made prints of this painting, and posted it on my website, I also posted a bit about it’s history and location, but it was incorrect. I then received this email from Mike Johnson who gave me a heads up, and the correct information. Thanks Mike. Hello Kent, I love your work, but think you may have been given some bad information regarding the Toed Inn. "The Toed," as we called it, first existed on Channel Rd. in Santa Monica Canyon. This restaurant was literally "washed to the sea" in the torrential rains and flood of 1938. It was not re-opened at this location. No '40 or '41 Willys here. Sometime afterwards, owner Ben Rosenthal re-opened the business on the S/W corner of Wilshire Blvd. and Saltair in West L.A (12008 Wilshire Blvd.). This is the one that is represented in your artwork and it existed only until the early '50's, when it was remodeled and became Ben's, a popular restaurant for some years. To be real picky, both Toed Inns were long gone by the time a Willys was considered acceptable for anything other than cheap transportation. The only photos of the Toed Inn I have recently seen are in the book CALIFORNIA CRAZY and one caption is incorrect. The one addressed 12008 is the "second" Toed Inn (Wilshire Blvd.). Surprisingly, the building is still there and it is still a restaurant (California Wok). At least one of the background buildings in the photo is still there too. Gotta look carefully, but it's there. I well remember the hamburgers from the "second" Toed Inn. Everything (meat, buns, onions) was cooked or toasted together on the griddle, a standard treatment of the day. All then wrapped in wax paper. Smokey, moist, unhealthy, and GREAT !! My friend Doug often walked his dog to the back door and would get a handout "for the dog". He says the ribs were delicious. Keep up the good work and Best Wishes, Mike Johnson

“The Van Nuys Drive-in, was actually located slightly outside of the city of Van Nuys, in Southern California, but perhaps not when it was first constructed as many cities have redrawn their boarders over the years. In their day, these well lit drive-ins stood out in the darkness of night like beacons to draw attention in the rural night sky. Many featured enormous beautifully painted murals such as both the Van Nuys, and the El Monte in this collection. A number of San Fernando Valley Drive-ins including the Van Nuys, helped feed the growing amount of young people Cruising Van Nuys Boulevard. Sadly these historic monuments from yesterday have all been torn down, and replaced by such interesting things such as strip malls, and parking lots.

On July 20, 1969 we first landed on the moon, and it was televised all over the world, and it was rerun over and over all day and night, and each time they showed people from different parts of the world watching it including our enemies. I had left the TV on, but with the sound turned down, as I listened to music while I was painting. At some point, I looked up to see our then enemy, the North Vietnamese watching the landing, as they cheered taking pride in that human beings had made such a great accomplishment, just as like the entire rest of the world. The irony of this struck me in a most profound way, which inspired a painting I did on that day, and several others versions. It had shook something loose, an observation that I couldn’t put into words There is a common thread that runs through human history showing our ability to create. An absolutely barbaric, and wild animal, that has both the ability to create and to destroy, and does both exceedingly well. To me it seemed most ironic, that we were killing one another in Vietnam while also landing on the moon. The human Paradox, doing our best, and our worst in the same painting. Today, this painting seems nostalgic, as we have successfully created a number of other ways to destroy ourselves, pollution and climate change are leading pack. Considering 90% of all life that evolved here on earth has gone extinct, and science gives us about 30 years to complete the task, there is no indication we will resolve the human paradox.