If you don't know who Tom Fritz is, please get out from under that rock. Tom is licensed by Harley-Davidson, and has been featured in The Robb Report Collection, American Iron, Easyriders -- just about every other big magazine in the free world. And rightfully so. His work just hints at what 's there. It's not about getting every letter on each tire correct. It's the emotion that it represents. We all get too caught up in the numbers and details without looking at the big picture. Tom knows just how much to show and when to hold back.I finally caught up to him and had a chance to talk to the man himself, and this is what he had to say.
What are your first memories of motorcycles?
My earliest memory is kind of painful. When I was about 3 or 4 years old, I took my first-ever ride on the back of Pop's Cushman scooter. It was a hot summer evening, I was wearing cut-offs and the pillion was just a rectangle of freshly sawn plywood. Well, I can tell you ya jus' don't forget plywood splinters on the inside of your thighs.
Over time, I've become aware that I must have spent a great deal of my childhood quietly "observing"; making mental notes of neat sensory stuff about the experience and environment encapsulated by a bike – you know – that which surrounds it. Stuff like: the smell of exhaust on a cold morning, with the steam condensing out the end of the pipe, the short hop taken before following through when kicking over the bike. The smell of ethyl, new rubber, cleaning solvent, and grease. The gorgeous variations of blue, gray, and orange on a chromed pipe near the manifold. Slicing in and out of the microclimates on an evening run through the canyons. The smell of Dad's leather jacket, and plunging my hands deep into his jacket pockets to keep warm.
Some special memories –Waiting for Dad to nod when it was time to mount, riding with him in the evenings to fire lookouts in the Angeles forest. The time Dad took me on the back of the bike to Cal Automotive to look at their fiberglass '23 T buckets destined for my hot rod. Cigarette ashes coming over Dad's shoulder. Cutting through Goler Wash and heading on toward Death Valley, just days after Manson's arrest at Barker ranch. Bubble shields. Having a snowstorms chase you out of the southern Sierras. Helplessly watching as the hubcap launches off the front wheel of a vehicle that just smacked a pothole two lanes over on the 5 – and slicing across your line of travel, neck level, like a UFO. Lifting a bike into a truck and wrapping my wrist around the hot exhaust pipe. Spills aplenty. Dodging vermin, rattlesnakes, quail. Riding shirtless on a hundred degree-plus day and getting walloped in the left nipple by a dragonfly at 70 mph. Watching the sun go down while patching a tube in the Mojave Desert… experiences you just can't get sitting behind a wheel.
When did you realize you had the ability to draw?
At maybe 3 years old… you know, when your memory is just forming. I remember responding to visual conventions describing depth – like overlapping forms, varying scale, and one point perspective way before I could draw a figure that wasn't a round head with stick arms and legs. It was fascinating. It was like TV, except I was in control. And people responded. I started to develop my brain-to-hand coordination everywhere. I drew on the underside of chairs and tables, on my PF Flyers, on my Red Ball Jets. On two by fours in the garage. On remnants of butcher paper, on the inside of game box lids, and on newspaper. Once I discovered this cool thing I could do, I couldn't put it down. Coloring books were a mixed bag – I got to explore with my crayons, but being forced to work within the bounds of black lines was boring.
You attended Cal State Northridge and earned a Bachelor of Arts in Illustration. A lot of artists say art school looked down on "drawing bikes and hot rods" What was your experience there and how did it help your artwork?
Tough, but good question. I understand the statement you presented. Education is what you bring into it, and what you get out of it. Art school for me was a searing experience. A compressed, arduous journey that created its own logic and its own enlightenment. Having run the gauntlet, I discovered what is occurring on the other side of the equation. Art schools don't look down on any particular subject matter per se, but rather on students who are self-limiting. By that, I mean those who lock into responding to only one subject, be it bikes, hot rods, Muppet characters, rock stars, door stops… what-have-you. And for good reason. Whatever is your own definable self-interest, one has to get away from one's private cesspool for no other reason but to maybe obtain some perspective. It's what you don't know that becomes the challenge. In school, you broaden your understanding and allow yourself to perceive things you haven't yet thought of or already combined in your own mind, then lock-in and focus. By all means, get the best education you can afford – heck, there's really no excuse… the library is free and certainly was an important adjunct to my education.
What was your experience there?
Here's what my experience taught me. It taught me about maintaining sanity. Perseverance. That a diploma is a sheet of paper given in bright daylight and later consigned to a dark drawer. That the illusion demanded by the art world that creative people spring from the head of Zeus is a fallacy.
My art school experience did teach me about art, but more importantly, it taught me how to learn. Development. Absorption. There's a fundamental difference. Education is powerful. It is continuing; it becomes an art in itself. It is life long; I pursue it daily. The sheer magnitude of its application is awesome. Seize what the masters left for you and go for the jugular. In art school, you put yourself in the position of having judgments rendered on you by a value system that is pretty sophisticated, which makes you reach deeply within yourself and come up with tough stuff.
How did it help your art?
Art school showed me the wheel and forced to me accept that it had already been invented. My task becomes rolling that wheel on down the road, reconstituting what I've learned, applying it to my needs, translating my vision outward, and seeing if there is a resonance of response. It prepared me for a plow, painful evolution of image and style within the constraints and skills I have. Not having to invent the wheel everyday helped my immensely. It frees me to more easily get in touch with the greatest power I could ever feel, my own.
Do you do thumbnails or sketches of when you start a new piece?
Yes. Inspiration hits anytime, anywhere. The thumbnail is me plumbing my personal depths to make a tangible record of the vision as I perceive it… distilling and getting the ideas down… downloading the information and freeing up mental RAM to accept additional incoming. If I didn't get these images out, my head would explode – kripes… imagine the mess in the studio…
The sketches are exploratory. Starting with the thumbnail and working up a composition considering balance, form, shape, movement, dynamics, color, expression – all that good stuff. It's part of my process; I can't just sit down and hang on to the handle of the brush and watch it flow – the sketch is the foundation; it keeps me from destroying a lot of otherwise perfectly good, white, expensive canvas. I just have to work through the underlying structure of the painting first.
What medium do you enjoy working in and why?
I was staff artist for a major defense firm for 25 years, and freelanced since high school, so I've been exposed to all the commercial media – graphite, inks, dyes, colored pencils, markers, dry pastel, gouache, airbrush, acrylic, watercolor – even digital. I enjoy working with oils. There is a range of tactile qualities inherent in the medium, and chemistry that I can alter to my advantage. But the main reason I work in oils? Sounds simplistic, but I dig the smell – even better than markers.
What is it like to display your art?
Drop your drawers and hope folks don't point and laugh.
What is the oddest thing someone has ever said about your art?
"Nice shot" or, "This shit makes my dick hard!"
What do you use as reference material?
Anything. Whatever works. I build props if I need to. Historical photos lend indications for model stature and dress – offering strange nuances not seen today. As far as the vehicle reference goes, it gets horrendously difficult to ship them across country. And if I have to wheel them into my studio, I'll have to chase the band out. Then, having to spend two weeks squinting past my outstretched arm with my thumb at them would wear me out. So I photograph them. I attend shows, museums, and collections, network my needs, and try to scare up hardware. Dig up my landscapes. My models are friends, neighbor's dogs, cohorts, pizza deliverymen – whoever fits at the moment. I've maintained a morgue file for years and am always adding to it.
Who are some of your favorite artists and who influenced your art the most?
Names have never stuck well in my head – sometimes I call my son the dog's name, and vice versa. Images are easier to recall – check my grades in Art History… I'm gonna miss some, but here goes: Renoir, Daumier, the fluidity of Tiepolo's line, Manet, (especially his later works where he was influenced by the avante garde Impressionists), Degas, Monet (his color contrasts), Delacroix (for his expressive use of juxtaposing complementary colors), Morisot, Sargent (esp. for his highly economical, confident, and accurate brushwork). Van Gogh. American Illustrators: Remington, Howard Pyle, N. C. Wyeth, Leyendecker (composition and awareness of contour and silhouette). Rockwell (narrative). Hard to say who influenced me most, though.
What does your wife and kids think about your art?
Molly gives me balance. She's my partner; she keeps me straight; she understands. I hope anyone who attempts a journey into something as indefinable as art should find a true friend like her. She's my first set of fresh eyeballs when mine are blasted, and she won't hesitate to tell me when "that wheel ain't round".
For the kids, it's simply what Pop does. I don't think they can grasp the intensity of the act. I believe they find it fascinating to watch the images appear, but they also get to experience the traumas of producing satisfying results first hand. They get to see their silly artist father thrashing and slashing and slowly developing his aesthetic.
What do you want people to come away with after viewing your art?
I guess I could launch into some flowery art-speak here – but I won't lie to you. I want them to come away with that painting. I want them to buy it from me, and hang it on their wall because they experience transference; a reflection of my passion, and feel so strongly about it that they can't deny its impact. I have to make a living doing this; otherwise I'll go back to fixing vacuum cleaners.
Any advice to aspiring artists?
Commit. Stop aspiring and start perspiring.
Learn as much as you can about your art – and the business. There's no recipe for success, no 12-step process, no rulebook. You can create all day, but you also have to know how to market your work.
Plug anything you want.
Honestly, I'd like to drop the names of the folks, their products, and their services that have treated me right. But if I missed just one of you, it might somehow be construed that you didn't make the cut. And then I'd feel lousy. And that would affect my mindset. And in this burning pustule of misery, I'd probably cut off my left ear… so, you know who you are… just keep passing the positive energy on.
www.fritzart.com
