Point of View
Tom Foral
A Rambling Appreciation

I can't remember exactly when it was, but it must have been in the late 60's. An exhibition was advertised and reviewed and I had to see it. It was called "Homosexual Art." "Homosexual Art," one reviewer said, "was it art by homosexuals, for homosexuals, or were they just paintings that liked each other?

The gallery was uptown, 96th or 103rd Street, somewhere around Park Avenue and I had the feeling there was going to be a raid. The show was wonderful. All sorts of work for every taste and proclivity. Small, finely done pencil drawings by Colt (one called "Previews of Coming Attractions"), imagine, five-plaster casts in splendid sizes and variations, and a piece of living art: a nude guy facing, unfortunately, a cross on the wall. There was no raid.

Who were all those artists? What ever happened to them and their art? Did they create more? And what of the gallery? Was there a market for the work?

That show was an awakening for me; it gave me stimulation, inspiration and hope. I wanted to see more, to be a part of a group like that. It took thirty years before I truly dealt with my sexuality in my work. All through tons of paintings it never dawned on me that the value of a painting is its connection to the soul and spirit of the painter. Sanford Meisner said, "The only thing you have to offer the theater is your uniqueness." To act like someone else, or to paint like someone else - to meet someone else's expectations or desires produces, at best, counterfeit acting and decorative art.

The theater has been called, "The Fabulous Invalid"; I think of the art world as the twin, and equally feeble. A friend said, "Painting is an archaic medium, you should be working in neon, lazers or plastic.

"We don't have time to paint, or even to look at paintings. We have so many distractions: television, movies, our lives. It's all crowding around us, fighting for our attention, a moment of our time, like the quick editing of commercials. We are on sensory overload. How can painting compete" During the Renaissance, painting was their movies and televisions, it was thrilling - painting gave them what we get from the film Fargo.

But what can we do? We who paint, who draw ? those of us who do have a passion to confront paper and canvas? It doesn't matter what is in style, what's being done, or that we are working at an unprofitable occupation. There is some thing within us that forces us to work, that will not let us rest. The pleasure and rewards are felt long before a piece of work is shown or ever sold. The satisfaction is in the creating, and that's enough. I wonder if that might not be why so many artists are such bad business people; the energy was spent in the creation and the reward was immediate - why go farther?

The Leslie-Lohman Gay Art Foundation gave me my first opportunity to show my - dare I say - erotic work. After a lifetime of portraiture, I took my own breath away when I painted my first expanse of sunbaked pectoral muscles, nipples, sweat and a nipple ring. I knew what Andrew Wyeth meant when he said he was knocked across the room after he painted the dress pink in Christina's World. I had to live with the pectoral painting awhile, to come to terms with it and me. I took it to SoHo where it was accepted for a group show at LLGAF in 1993. There was no going back to portraits.

The following year a solo show, also at Leslie-Lohman, was my big break, actually, my breakthrough. It was my coming out in my work - another barrier had fallen, another freedom savored. An uptown gallery owner, uninterested in my painting because it was "gay," and his gallery was definitely not, conceded, "The market for gay art is growing." Pleasant news. Perhaps the market is growing because collectors are learning that gay art exists.

The Leslie-Lohman Gay Art Foundation is already an historic landmark in gay and lesbian art. The exhibition, the permanent collection, the plays and the poetry reading series, this newsletter, and the social functions are all gifts to our community.

For artists who nurture a vision, a dream, it gives us a lot of reasons to keep going. The Leslie-Lohman Foundation is a bit of a miracle.

Tom Foral is a gay New York City artist. He painted portraiture most of his life, however, in 1991 he had his first homoerotic show at LLGAF and has since been in over twenty homoerotic group and solo shows in various New York City venues.