A friend called me excitedly last year out of the blue. “I have an idea for one of your spiral paintings. What if you did all of Trump’s craziest tweets?” Reading every one of Trump’s tweets was the equivalent of being ball-gagged at a punishingly loud speed metal concert where all the musicians are naked junkie hookers screaming renditions of the Star Spangled Banner through terrifying face tattoos. Your sense of balance, humanity, decency and the future is destroyed and yet
To know my immigrant story, watch Fiddler On The Roof. My ancestors, peasants in Poland, died in Auschwitz and arrived thru Ellis Island to begin again. I imagine, as their ships entered New York harbor, they wept seeing the Statue of Liberty, just like in the movies. Which is why I felt so touched when my oldest friend, Mark, visited my studio with his grandfather’s precious stamp collection. Mark handed me a stack of baby blue notebooks, each filled with a colorful trove be
Burnt, Acrylic, American flag and inkjet book cover on canvas, 35″ x 19″ 2017. AVAILABLE. “I’m jus’ pain covered with skin.”
John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath My Beautiful America …
What has come of our utopian experiment?
Our chorus of voices? New paintings sing old songs.
Shocking songs. Each a wish.
A soft light
In a dark corner. Easy on the eyes
Robust, complex, yet
Grieving, burnt and forlorn. Dystopian American novels.
Shorn of novelty.
“Stuart Sheldon created one of the billboards, an American flag posing spiralized questions about freedom. To him, it’s about urging people “at a granular level” to start over, with less fear and more optimism.” LA Times Find this 100-ft mural next to Panther Coffee in the center of the Wynwood Arts District The day after Thanksgiving and I’m swimming far from shore in a warm yet turbulent sea of gratitude and angst, as the world implodes and my art career explodes. Next week
“How does a lie come to be widely taken as the truth? The answer is disturbingly simple: Repeat it over and over again. When faced with facts that contradict the lie, repeat it louder.” This NYT editorial from earlier this week discussed the remarkable success of the voter fraud myth. Despite being statistically non-existent (31 cases in over a billion ballots), this false narrative has convinced nearly half of registered voters that voter fraud is a problem that justifies ma
“Prince was no taller than me, yet he was larger than life. He had his own style,” my 5’2″ wife told our boys on the drive to school last week. “He’d even wear shoes with high heels.” Our 8-yr-old leaned forward from the back seat and giggled, “Why would he do that?” Without missing a beat, his 6-yr-old brother chimed, “I know … because he was the boss of himself!” Are you the boss of yourself? Prince was born different. Hyper-musical. Uber-sexual. Unquestionably self-confide
The first step in The Best Books Ever Written, my largest work ever. See it at Art Basel! I just finished my first book (for the fifth time). A Lonely Fool’s Masterpiece took 7 years and countless edits to complete, but it is really done. And it will be a New York Times bestseller. I have already seen to that with my just-finished painting, The Best Books Ever Written, in which the most wonderful books of all time engulf the title page of my manuscript, infusing it with their
“You’re amazing. I loved it. Wouldn’t change a thing!” Unless you’re talking to Stevie Wonder, this is not legitimate feedback. It’s applause. We all need applause every now and again. BUT, without substance, your well-meaning commentary is the barking of a seal. To paraphrase marketing guru, Seth Godin, if you want to improve, actively seek feedback that clearly and generously identifies ways you can more effectively delight your customers and create a more remarkable experi
We all need to escape our lives and disconnect every now and then. Change the scenery and the pace. The color blue alone made it all worth it. The Kingdom of Tonga sits far from everything, awash in turquoise lagoons, aquamarine shallows and cobalt reefs care-taken by the bluest eye sky. It is the only monarchy never colonized in the South Pacific, populated by a gentle people, notwithstanding their club-wielding, brain-bashing, cannibal lineage. One tranquil sunset, in one o
A fellow painter invited me last week to be one of four artists at a South Beach corporate event. Live painting feels a bit like being a monkey with a brush, but there are worse ways to earn $500 in 3 hours. Each artist was asked to create a 5’x3′ S. Beach themed canvas which convention guests could enhance as their hearts desired. My cocktail glass filled with ice had the working title $20 With a Straight Face, which is what the shameless bastards charge around here for a vo
I waited alone to be seated in a Thai restaurant on Boulder’s Pearl Street Mall. In front of me a beefy frat boy and his pom-pom girlfriend touched one another like kittens. I was 29 and bummed to be without a date on Valentine’s Day. My romantic dinner for one was to include pad thai and a frosty Singha with my nose in Hemingway’s Islands In The Stream. But I was OK with it. Until, out of nowhere, the big lug turned to me and said, “No date for Valentines Day, huh?”
I have always loved elephants The gentle soulfulness Rough-hewn nobility They cannot hide Must be as they are in the world Lumbering Yet determined Many consider them good luck I see inspiration For they love to play Yet know sadness And fight for what they cherish Without hesitation Share this: Tweet Share on Tumblr Email #art #painting #studio #loyalty #poetry #stuartsheldon #elephants
Excerpted from my upcoming book, A Lonely Fools Masterpiece: I’d painted my wife into my life. Time to paint us a child. We still had seven long months ahead of us. BRING US A HEALTHY BABY, AND BRING IT NOW was the message I sought to ring in the ears of the collective unconscious. This message was no longer a request. It was a demand. Time to storm into God’s office and tell him to quit fucking around and give us our child. Share this: Tweet Share on Tumblr Email #art #paint
Excerpted from my upcoming book, A Lonely Fool’s Masterpiece: “So, I’m telling you, if it doesn’t happen next time, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” my wife said. If it doesn’t happen next time… I had never allowed that notion to take hold in my mind, because I found it ridiculous. Of course we would have a child. But the idea that we might not succeed was beginning to register. All of a sudden, my wife was putting the barrel of a gun in my mouth and saying, if it doesn’