Alessandro di Canedo
Male Head
Red Conte on paper
15" x 14"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

Touko Laaksonen
(aka Tom of Finland)
Bruno, 1974
Pencil on paper
14.5" x 11.5"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

Elliot Hessayon
(aka Zack)
CC Construction Company
Ink on paper
24" x 18"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

George Stavrinos
Study for Bather
Pencil and watercolor on paper
12.75" x 11.5"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

Jim French
(aka Colt, Lugar)
Seated Caress, c. 1980
Pencil on paper
14" x 17"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

George Stavrinos
Life Guard
Colored pencil on paper
20" x 14"
Promised gift of Len Paoletti

Douglas Simonson
Brazilian Beach Boy
Oil on paper
17" x 10"
Gift of Len Paoletti

The Haphazard Collector
Len Paoletti and his Art: Part 2
by Len Paoletti

Longing to escape the cold gray winter days of Provincetown, I eagerly looked forward to my twice yearly trips to New York. For me, the discovery of a new artist and his work was even more exciting if I could actually track down the artist and meet him. By now I had met Rex, Adam, and Tom of Finland. After buying Bruno by Tom of Finland through Target Studios I asked Lou Thomas to put me in touch with Tom. He did and one afternoon in New York I had lunch with this diminutive shy man and commissioned a piece from him. My friend Jim Cuzytek had had to work that day but he wanted to hear all about him. But there was little to tell. Tom¹s work were wonderful fantasy. Reality was dull. Unlike Rex who wanted to be his fantasy, Tom was happy to put his fantasies down on paper for others to enjoy. Jim was shocked at the orgy that I asked Tom to draw for me. But I explained that when we were old and gray, it would be a wonderful souvenir of our nights of crazy youthful adventure. Jim and I had a great time urging each other on in spending sprees that neither of us could afford. But we were young and had credit cards, and felt the future would take care of itself. Little did we, or anyone, know what was lurking in the shadows of those clubs where were we blissfully cavorted. But without Jim¹s pressing me on in my purchases and the cheap lodging he provided, a few dinners in exchange for sleeping on his sofa, I doubt that I would have acquired many of those early pieces.

By the mid 1980¹s, my brother and his wife had settled near Laguna Beach, California and my parents had retired to the desert near Palm Springs. A longer respite from the dark cold isolated Provincetown winters now beckoned. California was my escape for a few of those months. When my father once jokingly remarked that he and my mother saw more of me now than when they lived in Boston, I quickly explained that they now had a heated swimming pool and January temperatures in the 70¹s. My mother¹s health was failing so my dad was glad to have the company to share the burden for caring for her. Although my parents were unaware of my growing art collection, they knew I was painting and that most of the images at that time were of men. By then I had been published in The Advocate, Blueboy, and In Touch. My mother¹s funniest comment about it all was, "Could you get in a magazine that I can leave on the coffee table?"

During this time, I also continued my interest in purchasing male art. Twice I drove across country with my two closest Provincetown friends Dexter Ross and Marc Belair who had been my first nude model. We all owned guest houses in P-town and were eager to leave for a couple of months. On one such drive we stopped in New Orleans and I sought out the artist George Dureau. Living in a mansion straight out of Anne Rice, George gave me a private view of much of his art. Photography was his passion by then. But it was his drawings I preferred and I bought another one from a New Orleans gallery. When I mentioned the drawing I had acquired from Sam, he said that he had signed it with his first and last name, rather than just his last, as it was one of his favorites.

Drummer magazine had been very helpful in supplying me with information about various West Coast artists. Each California trip, I sought out more art and hopefully an artist or two. While in Laguna, I flipped through a phone book and looked up the name of Harry Bush. I had always thought the name was a pseudonym, but there it was with a San Juan Capistrano address. I called him and visited. For years I had admired Harry¹s work first in Physique Pictorial published by Athletic Model Guild and then in Drummer and In Touch. So I eagerly looked forward to meeting him and seeing originals of his work. Like Tom of Finland, he was an ordinary fellow, but he whined and complained about the many publishers and gallery owners he had known. Basically he felt they had never treated him well. But the longer I talked with him, the more I realized that Harry was a very difficult person to deal with. He was very insecure about himself and his art and he needed constant reassurance that his art was good.

Drawings were scattered almost haphazardly about the room, but when I wanted to look closely at any one he would stuff it in a drawer saying it was not finished or not good enough to be seen. Finally after much praise he would show me a piece. Those I did see were superb. He would not sell me any pieces but after much cajoling he eventually gave me a small drawing based upon Christopher Atkins. Harry was entranced with athletic youth and for him Christopher was an ideal. Six months later he sent me a better piece and asked for the first drawing back. He now felt it was not good enough and he wanted to destroy it. Considering the handstands I had had to go through to get it, I declined to return it, but offered to send him a check for both pieces. As I feared this led to an ending of any relationship we had. Later I was to hear that shortly before he died, he had destroyed many of his originals. So in retrospect, I feel I made the right decision.

My relationships with other West Coast artists were more pleasant and rewarding. On an earlier trip to San Francisco, I had bought a drawing by Bill Schmeling, The Hun. The grotesqueness of the cartoon figures were not really to my liking, but the drawing was very well done. Shortly thereafter I learned that he was then living in Los Angeles. A very pleasant affable man, he was delighted to show me his work. I bought a sketch and the following winter, Bill asked me to show a few of my paintings at his house in a joint show he was having with Tom of Finland. This was the first time that Tom had seen any of my work. He was impressed with my realism and especially with my use of color. At the time, Tom had just begun to do some colored pencil work so he was intrigued by the blending I was able to achieve using acrylic paint. This was the last time I was to see Tom. But I renewed my acquaintanceship with Bill last Fall when I ran into him at the Tom of Finland Erotic Art Show in Los Angeles.

Elliot Hessayon, aka Zack, another artist, was also living in Los Angeles at that time. In the 80¹s, the art of Zack could be seen in many clubs and shops of Southern California. While at my parents place in the desert, I often partied at a well known Palm Springs disco, C.C. Construction Company. Zack had done the poster for this club. His image of a hunky construction worker/truck driver personified the ideal man for many gay men. Zack had also done a number of posters for bath houses, but his most famous poster was for a brand of inhalant called Pig Poppers. The startling image of a muscle man with his flexed arm lathered in crisco about to plunge into the willing rear of another man graced the walls of s/m clubs and sex boutiques. One evening I visited Zack at his home in the Silverlake area of Los Angeles. I was greeted by a short, muscular bearded man wearing jeans and a white tank top. He was the epitome of the gay clone of his day and far sexier than any of the images he portrayed. He knew this and some of his stationery actually carried a small self portrait. He was an active participant in the sexual scene he so knowingly portrayed. That first time we met I bought the original for the CC (Cathedral City) Construction Company. Zack was justly proud of this piece. The fine subtle shading in the blue night sky of the original is lost in the black on silver poster created for the club. Other finished pieces as well as works in progress were also on display. The following winter I acquired the Pig Popper original. While I was very impressed with the painting skill that went into crafting this image, the large yellow bottle of poppers so prominently displayed was always a distraction for me and I never hung it. Elliot used the pseudonym for the simple reason that he worked for a famous movie studio. Once I received an item from him in a Universal Studios envelope, but I suspected he might have worked for Disney. All he would state was that his company with its family image would not be too pleased if they knew of his outside endeavors.

Richard Etts was basically a New York sculptor who had a brief spurt of fame in the late 70¹s early 80¹s. Much of his art consisted of plaster casts of various anatomical parts. He had made a series of lamps from castings of the hands of friends. The lamps were popular on both coasts and were sold through many high end lighting stores as well as Bloomingdale¹s. But it was in places as the Pleasure Chest that Richard showed his many castings of his friends' penises.

In the mid 80's through a friend of Dexter Ross, I learned that Richard was also living in the desert not far from my parents. For three winters I would drop in and see what he was working on. Usually, he was doing castings of bronze pieces that other artist had created. But scattered about his home and studio were moldings of his own work, images that he had rarely made casts off. At my prodding, he did create a few items The casting of the ass he made for me is the only one which included the model¹s genitalia. Others, later made for shops, were smaller and eliminated that aspect. Another piece of a hand holding a large leather encased dick was likely the only one made to stand alone. Most pieces were made to hang on a wall.

There were many moldings of the faces of friends. Some he had cast, but as the eyes were always closed, I was not as interested in them. The last time I saw Richard Etts, he told me that he was thinking of moving up to the High Desert to Yucca Valley. I knew he was ill, and the following year I tried to track him down but never found out what had become of him and his many pieces of art.

By the early 90's many of the artists prominent in the gay art scene had died. Although I was still interested in buying pieces, finding such art was becoming more difficult. Galleries in New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles were closing. Stompers and Physique Memorabilia were both gone. The art once so openly displayed was disappearing. There was little available to buy. Then, within a nine month period, my friend Jim Cuzytek in New York, my mother in California, and my best friend in P-town, Marc Belair, died. For ten years I did not return to New York. In California, I saw my dad but no longer sought out artists. The theme of many of my Provincetown paintings switched from males to those landscapes I had so long avoided.

There had long been one artist, George Stavrinos, whose work I had greatly admired but had never been able to afford. In the early mid 70¹s, when I had my first guest house and was looking for items to decorate the walls, I had toyed with the idea of framing advertising illustrations by Stavrinos. On the back page of the first section of the Sunday New York Times, there would be a full page Stavrinos illustration for Barney¹s, or Bergdorf¹s. George had revived the art of fashion illustration. His portrayal of clothes transcended the actual items. He created a world of beauty and elegance, of mystery and intrigue. The illustrations were works of art and I was always tempted to frame those newspaper ads.

In 1981 George had a show at the Tatistcheff Gallery in New York. The reality of the drawings far surpassed the newspaper reproductions which I had seen. But at that time, their prices were out of my reach. But I never forgot them. George also did the occasional illustration for Blueboy and the covers of a number of gay novels. Later I was to learn that many of these novelists were friends of his and after he died he was mentioned in one of the works. So in the 90¹s when a friend of mine, David Jarrett, mentioned to me that he had seen an illustration by Stavrinos at a Sotheby sponsored auction to benefit Gay Games IV and Cultural Festival, and Stonewall 25, I inquired if it had been sold. It had not so I bought it. An illustration of a large boot atop of a diminutive crouching man, the drawing had appeared in Gay Source: a Catalog for Men, published in 1977.

After that I wondered how many other original drawing might be available.The search for more was not easy. George had exhibited in two New York Galleries and neither was especially helpful. Other sources had heard of him, but had no idea what had become of his art. I did learn that George had died in 1992 and eventually was able to locate the remainder of his art. It had been left to his siblings. A sister in New Hampshire was holding it for the family. One afternoon she graciously let me visit to see many of the pieces. She was well aware of their value both monetarily and historically and had carefully seen to preserving them and George¹s memory

Many of the marvelous fashion illustrations had been sold, but she had a number of the gay book covers as well as some unfinished male pieces. My budget went out the window as over the next two years I bought nearly a dozen drawings.

My admiration for George has only grown since I have acquired these pieces, many of which are hanging in my Florida home. Recently, I read a small piece profiling Jim French of Colt Studio fame. In it Jim extols the work of George Stavrinos and it is obvious that they must have become friends as the huge Leyendecker original that George had hanging in his studio was bequeathed to Jim when he died. The techniques of these two artists are similar but the approach is different. The results in both instances are superb.

For nearly 15 years, I had not seen another Colt, Jim French, drawing for sale. I had two and had always wondered where others might be. Jim French had always maintained an air of mystery. His art stood for itself and he was not interested in saying anything about it. So I was surprised one day to see an original for sale on ebay. I was the high bidder. then another from the same seller appeared. So I wrote and inquired just how many they had as I might be interested in one or two more. The second one on ebay did not reach it¹s reserve price. So the seller contacted me. There were 14 other pieces and they would only sell them to me as a block. An opportunity like this does not occur very often. Since I have always regretted not buying the painting by Quaintance, I agreed to buy them and paid for them over a three year period. Eventually I was to learn that the drawings came from the estate of the famous male photographer Roy Dean. A number of them now hang alongside the Stavrinos pieces.

The internet, in particular Ebay, has proven to be a new source for finding male art from old, often forgotten artists as well as from emerging artists. Once a week I generally spend an hour or so browsing through the various listings. The vast majority of the items are very amateurish or even worse, mass produced items which are being palmed off as being "original hand painted" paintings. But among the dross it is is possible to find the occasional treasure. Beside the Colt drawings, I recently purchased the original Dale Hall drawing for the Lion Pub poster in San Francisco. In the late eighties, this image of a male lion mounting a handsome goateed man was a very famous bar poster. Ads for the bar appeared in most gay magazines and a limited edition printing of the poster was offered. However, I have never been able to find another piece of art by that artist nor any information about him.

Another unknown artist of whom I bought a drawing is Jeffrey Chiebert. The image of the young man is skillfully executed and could easily have been an illustration for any one of the numerous gay publications in the nineties. But again I known nothing about the artist nor have I seen other pieces by him. Alessandro di Canedo, who was most noted for his landscapes and female nudes in the 50¹s and 60¹s, has also been represented by a few male nudes. The first piece of his which I bought, a portrait head, reminded me very much of portraits done by Tom of Finland. The signature was difficult to decipher and only later when other identified pieces appeared was I able to discover who the artist was.

Occasionally, I have seen pieces on Ebay which have totally fascinated me. Recently there was a drawing listed as being from the "Eames" period. It had a curving matt like an Eames chair. But the drawing was a sketchy male nude. The great show of the work of John Singer Sargent had just closed at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. To me, this drawing looked like a Sargent. I was the high bidder at $130.00; and it is a Sargent. I discovered a reproduction in a book on the artist. But this is likely a full size heliograph, a type of lithograph, and not an original drawing. But for a few moments, I felt like I had won the lottery. That, for me, has been part of the fun of collecting the many pieces which I have. Some are junk, but a few are masterpieces of their genre. Having them displayed on my walls has given me both a sense of accomplishment as well as a connection to the artists. In 2003, I sold my place in Provincetown and moved full time to Fort Lauderdale. I no longer had the space to display so much art nor did some of those early outrageous pieces have the same appeal for me. So I am delighted that many of them, and eventually most of them, have found a home at the Leslie-Lohman Gay Art Foundation.

Even with my limited display space, I still buy more pieces. Three drawings by Todd Yeager from the LLGAF store are among my recent acquisitions. Maybe it is a disease, or an addiction, but I suspect that it is one that will last a lifetime. I am a very visual person and so long as I can seek out art, I will likely continue to collect as well at to create it. Male nudes have dominated my own art in recent years, and with the wide availability of models available in Southern Florida, they will likely do so for many more years. Fort Lauderdale and Miami also abound with numerous second hand shops, so it is with a curious eye that I browse through them looking for one more treasure amidst the trash.