My life as an artist:


This is it!   This is what all this hoopla is about.   Right here!   Yep. . . right here.   Um, here's where this entire web page was heading.   The big, dramatic life story / artistic biography for ME, James Kelsey.



Yep. . .



this is the place.


I'm not sure where to begin though.   You already know the sad, sad story of the art establishment quashing my artistic muse at age two.   I used to be a perfectionist too.  Remember that huge news print paper from elementary school?   The kind with the large area above for drawing a picture and the three-lined bottom half so you could practice your big letters and your small ones.   (Do they still use that in the 1st grade?)

Oh yeah... I was a perfectionist.   Every time I made a mistake with one of my letters on that paper, I had to throw away the entire sheet and start over.   Remember how horrible it was to erase that news print?   I couldn't take the carnage of it, so erasing wasn't an option for me.

I grew up very poor in Renton, Washington.  We lived in the Renton Housing Authority project.   It was nice childhood for what is was-- lots of kids in the neighborhood, no abuse, and no rats (other than my brother's pet rat named Ben).   I remember my mother used to baby sit to help with the bills and stuff.   Once, we made these butterflies out of dyed macaroni.   We used Elmer's Glue to stick the colored pasta to some plywood boards in the shape of butterflies.   It was the Coolest thing.   Very artistic.   If I hadn't eaten all the macaroni off if it a week later, I'd ask one of my galleries to exhibit it now.

Elementary school was sort of a blur for me.   Okay. . . I've mentally blocked it out.   Something about the school burning down and rioting in the hallways because they took away chilidog Wednesday.   I do remember one thing though, in the 5th grade.

Remember I said we were poor?   Oh yeah. . . poor.   Not quite eating-raw-glue-covered-macaroni-off-a-plywood-board poor, but poor.   (I'm still not sure why I ate my butterfly.)   Anyway, in the 5th grade my brother and I came home from school one day and our parents announced that there was a chance that we could be moving to Africa.   You heard right, the Dark Continent, the motherland for us All.   Lions, and Tigers, and big-ass Insects!

I guess my father was looking at a company that might relocate us there, and little ol' me had never left the Seattle area in my life!   For the next month or so I read up on Everything African, the people, the language, all the animals, and the big-ass insects.   The one thing that Really appealed to me though was the art, especially the carved sculpture.   We ended up not going, but another adventure was just a paragraph away.

See? It didn't take long to get to this paragraph.   5th grade faded into a memory as I entered the 7th grade.   Middle School.   The big time.   7th grade was most excellent for me.   I took photography, ceramics, and woodshop.   In woodshop, there was one project in particular that captured my attention.   We got to cast something from Aluminum!   (I know... a weird project for woodshop, but it was great).  I carve "JK" out of a block of Styrofoam.   It's lost now, but if I still had it, yep, you guessed it, I would have one of my galleries exhibit it!

That really wasn't the big adventure though.   The BIG adventure came near the end of 7th grade.   My parents informed us that my father had gotten a job with the company he had tried to years earlier, but instead of Africa, we were now heading for Tehran, Iran!

Living in Iran changed my life forever.   Not only did it force me to see outside my little world, it showed me incredible things beyond my 14 year old imagination.   The images of the people, their music and art are burned into my mind, and I hope I never forget the experience.   I learned that Muslims don't use any sort of literal figures in their art, but are experts of the abstract.   I didn't even really know what that was before Iran, but fell in love with the idea of 'abstract' while living there.

Fast forward:   We had to leave Iran 3 years early because of the Revolution in 1979.   (Waking up to gun fire in the distance was an interesting, experience in itself).   We came back to Renton and 1/2 way through the 10th grade (16 years old) I fell in love, dropped out of high school, ran away from home with the woman of my dreams (I was young and oh-so foolish), got my G.E.D., and got a Job cleaning a McDonalds on the graveyard shift.

Oh, since it's such a big part of my life, I'll include this little tidbit here.   All my life I have been enthralled with flying.   As a little kid, I used to stand waving at the small planes flying over me.   Living near an airport made this activity never ending.   In the 9th grade I wrote a huge report on hang gliding and announced the amazement of my classmates that, given the choice, I would rather have my pilot's license than, GASP, my driver's license.   They knew I was insane from that moment on.

So anyway, I'm working at the McDonalds and decide to take flying lessons.   There's a town near us, Issaquah, which used to have the best airfield.   It was a grass strip that supported sky divers and sailplanes.   While learning to fly gliders, I decided that cleaning up the kitchen and bathrooms at McDonalds was a poor career decision, so I joined the United States Air Force a couple of months after turning 18.   (Oh, forgot to mention, I got married at 17, but no kids...every always presumes a baby was the reason; it wasn't (stupidity was).

I join the air force and find myself a as Fire Fighter living in Northern Italy.   ITALY!!!!!  Even a blind, deaf, mute can't avoid the art in Italy!   My downstairs neighbor was a painter, but at that time, I didn't consider myself very artistic, but I did love all the local art.   I used to take a 30 minute train down to Venice whenever I could and just wonder around the city.

Fast forward:   We had a son in Italy, but he died.   It was the Air Force doctors' fault that he died, but we couldn't do anything about it.   (The military is pretty much immune from being sued or prosecuted for anything.)   Came back to the USA and ended up in Spokane, Washington to finish up my air force career.   Got divorced.   Got engaged.   Went to college and became a commercial pilot.   Went on to Eastern Washington University and graduated top of my class in Communications Studies.   (I was the first person in my family tree to EVER get a college degree.)   Somewhere in my college career, I split up with my fiancée, and promptly found the third woman of my life.

Somewhere in all of this I moved back to Seattle and bought a home in Port Orchard, Washington.   (For those of you not from here, that's across the Puget Sound from Seattle.)   A few years back I thought, 'you know, I've always wanted to learn how to weld.   What if I become a sculptor?'   It's something I've ALWAYS wanted to do, but had always been told not to give up my day job. . .




UPDATE: 15 May 2005

As all my die-hard friends know, my studio has been built for nearly two years now. My artistic career is really doing nicely.   I've recently become an artist with Tri-Art Gallery in Eastern Washington; I've just completed my largest (18+ feet) public commission to date; and I am turning my little 3 1/2 acre plot of the Earth into a sculpture garden. 

If things go as I'd like, I will create a Not-for-profit sculpture center where I can invite artists from around the world.   I want them to have the chance to create and SHOW (and sell) sculpture here in the USA without having to incur the expenses of shipping large art, or, hopefully, even have to pay for room & board.   I will need funding to purchase adjoining property in order to have the space for such an endeavor, but it will happen.   If you'd like to be involved in this project from an artistic, administrative, or financial position, please contact me.

UPDATE: 15 September 2007

Holy crap.   (Can a professional artist say 'crap' on his website?)   It was recently pointed out to me that I had TYPOS in this rant and, as I corrected them, I came to the 'end', May 2005. . .  Has it really been two years since I updated this?   Well, let's see, I'm not with Tri-Art Gallery any long due to a difference of opinion on key issues.   My studio is still humming with activity, although now I'm working solo since my (now ex) wife needed to follow a new path in her life.  I have three cats, and friends, and love, and new commissions to keep me moving towards my goals in life.   I visited Italy this year and I'm planning a trip to North Africa in the near future. I have new, hopeful connections appearing in my life - Hospitals, Credit Unions, and Manhattan (yes, it's true, ALL of Manhattan wants me!), so my next update could be wildly exciting or soul-crushingly depressing. (please-- stand by. . . . .)

This Biography is a work in progress, and I'll be revisiting it from time to time, not that I expect YOU to ever come back and read it again.   If you've gotten this far, I'm very impressed!   Thank you.



If you have questions, E-Mail me and I will respond to you personally.

Thank You,

--James Kelsey

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