Another North Beach Artist Faces Eviction
Betsey Culp interviews Redo
Walk
by Caffè Trieste any morning, and
you’re likely to see a man with a graying ponytail sitting at a table
outside, engaged in animated conversation, greeting passersby. His name
is Redo. He’s an artist, until recently one of San Francisco’s
"successful" ones. When his work sells, the paintings fetch four
figures, and sculptures five. But these days, collectors are hanging onto their dollars and
– it’s a familiar story – Redo finds himself on the verge of eviction
from the apartment he occupies just above the café.
BC: You probably don’t remember, but the first time
I met you, you had just gotten back from India. Tell me what you did in
India.
Redo: Well, I went there to paint and sculpt, and
that’s just what I did. I did a lot of drawing. And I almost died of
typhoid fever.
BC: What?
Redo: I had to take my holy dip in the Ganges River.
And you know, you can’t help getting it inside you when you’re swimming.
BC: So did you really get typhoid fever?
Redo: I sure did. I’d gone to Rishikesh, which is a
holy city near the headwaters of the Ganges, in the foothills of the
Himalayas. And I thought, well, it should be safe enough to swim. So
that’s just what I did. I swam. For a couple of days I went to the same
spot with two friends of mine and spent hours each day swimming in the
river.
The next day I went up in the north of India, right
below the snow peaks. I woke up in the morning and I passed out. And I
woke up and got up again and passed out. I didn’t get diarrhea or the
flux or anything wrong with my stomach. You know, with typhoid you lose
your appetite and you don’t want to drink water. That’s what really gets
you. But my friend was giving me tea. I think what saved my life before
my friend got a doctor to me was goldenseal and Echinacea tea.
When the doctor finally got to me, he said, “I think I
know what you have.” His wife was a pathologist, luckily enough, so he
took my blood sample and she confirmed it.
He came back, and he said, “You know, you’re about
twelve hours from going home in a box.”
I said, “Hey, doc, I feel great.” The nature of the
illness is that the fever is really intense at night, and then the next
day you feel like you’re getting better. And of course, you don’t have
any appetite. Then the next night, the fever almost doubles. The fever
gets worse and worse.
But for me the fever… I really enjoyed it. Because I’ve
done so many psychedelics, maybe. It was a very hallucinatory fever, and
I really enjoyed it. I was really resigned. It was OK if I was going to
die then. I felt great. I’ve had a pretty good life. I’ve created a lot
of beautiful things, had some wonderful experiences. So I was ready to
go.
Anyway the doctor put me on a regimen of antibiotics. It
took me a month to recover.
BC: You must have been really weak then.
Redo: I was very weak. But I learned lots of things
while I was recovering. I had taken some binoculars with me, and I got
into bird watching. And I drew all the snow peaks. In the east I could
see Nepal. In the west I could see China.
It was very quiet there. All you would hear was the men
with the oxen in the fields and the women in their saris working in the
rice paddies. It was very pastoral. Lots of beautiful birds. I’ll show
you the drawings sometime, of all the snow peaks going across the
horizon. Over there each snow peak is revered and sacred to a certain
deity. I don’t know why, but it seems to give them personalities. What
more beautiful view could you have than the Himalayas as you were
recovering? And really quiet.
The only noise you would hear would be twice a day,
early in the morning and near sundown, the Indian Air Force would send a
couple of their old MIGs to patrol the border. So they’d just fly over.
Other than that, all you’d hear was nature. Just beautiful.
BC: You went to some place where you got a bunch of
stones, right?
Redo: I found out where they got the stones that the
Taj Mahal was built from. And I carved three of those stones.
BC: Did you bring them back?
Redo: No. I sold one to an expatriate who lives in
London, and I left a couple there. I’m slowly having my stuff sent back
here. I just got a box lately from India. Because I’m so prolific, I’ve
got a ton of stuff there, so I’m gradually having it sent back, a box at
a time. The box I just got contained a whole bunch of drawings, framed
drawings, framed there because it’s really cheaper. Only two of the
framed pieces were broken… the glass.
BC: Are you going to have a drawing show?
Redo: Well, that’s another one of my books – “The
Artist’s Life, in India.” It contains drawings done in the Himalayas,
and the Deccan Plateau – haystacks and such – and southwest India.
I
stayed in Goa for a while, four to six months, I don’t know. That’s
where I carved the stones. I had a house in the jungle for $35 a month.
I could afford to hire two quarrymen there, to work next to me for eight
hours a day. I would chip out the design and then have them carve from
it. I paid them twice what they made in the quarry. At the end of the
day I would clean up what they had carved from my design and then I’d
carve more for them to work on the next day. They worked right next to
me, and I’d feed them. It was great. It allowed me to carve and finish
three marble sculptures.
BC: And then when you came back, you came back to
North Beach?
Redo: Well, my father had died recently, so I went
up and spent six months with my mother, up in Washington State. She’s
since moved to Wisconsin, where some of my siblings have families. One
of my brothers has a wife who’s a nurse, so she can watch her and get
her to walk every day and let the grandkids harass her. Keeps her on her
toes.
India was very productive for me. But then everywhere I
go, I’m productive. That’s what I do.
BC: You decided at an early age that you were going
to support yourself by your art.
Redo: Well, it was never really a conscious choice.
I was gifted, so I was a natural. And what else was I going to do?
BC: But you must have also had a business sense of
some sort.
Redo: Well, I suppose. Minimally. Because it’s
lasted this long. But I never had a doubt about what I was going to do,
or what I was going to be, or why I was here, what my work was. It was
always obvious to me. Of course, when I was younger, it was very cute.
As I got older, it wasn’t so cute.
I made sure, also, that I couldn’t do anything
practical, so there was no choice but to live by my work.
BC: So how did you start making it a business?
That’s the thing that artists have trouble with.
Redo: Well, I think it’s because I like people, and
so I can talk to people. I like to talk to people. And that helps one
facilitate any kind of business, right? So that’s how I could support
myself, by networking with people. I’m self-taught. I’ve never been in
any institutions, so I’ve always been an outsider. I’ve done it that
way.
BC: Your paintings sell for – what? – about $5,000?
Redo: Yes, now. I’m 60 years old, almost, and so I’m
a master painter. And I charge for my skill. I sell a painting every
several months or so. Because I don’t have any expensive habits, it’s
allowed me to flourish. I’m not very interested in distractions, so all
my time pretty much goes into my work.
BC: I remember a while ago you told me about what a
day was like, how you’d get up, and come here…
Redo: I go to sleep about three in the morning. I
get up automatically about 8:30, and I come down to the café and wake up
very slowly. And then I like to spend the daylight carving stone
outside. When I come back from that, I take a shower, have something to
eat, and do some drawing and then paint, and after I’ve painted for a
while, either in water colors or oils, I’ll get into my drawing again,
which is my main discipline. Everything comes out of the drawing. And
then I go to sleep again about three in the morning.
BC: That’s a nice day.
Redo: Yeah, really full. I usually take a siesta for
about an hour, not necessarily to sleep, just to turn everything off.
Lie down and shut it all off. I like to take my siesta around five in
the afternoon, and that way I have a whole night of energized time and I
can really concentrate again. It’s a great way to do things.
BC: Tell me about the black rock.
Redo: The one I’m working on now? Well, it’s from
India. There’s a guy in Oakland who brings in stone from all over the
world, and he lets me know when there’s something I might like to carve.
I’ve known him for years. He got this load of stone from India and it
all smelled like curry, because evidently in the same container that
they sent the rock, they sent a bunch of curry.
BC: Does it still smell of curry?
Redo: No, no, no. I’ve skinned it pretty well. It’s
a black stone. It’s become a stone flier – that’s the title of the
sculpture. A stone flier is a guardian angel of the earth spirits, so
I’m carving a home for the stone flier.
BC: So is it concave?
Redo: It’s carved in the round. It’s 150 pounds or
so. I can’t lift it, but I can muscle it around the table so I can get
to all the angles of it.
I’ve been working on it all year. I can usually do a
couple of stones a year, because I’m consistent, I’m always at it. It’s
not a question of deciding what to do one day to the next; it’s just a
continuation of yesterday. I’m always tuned in to it.
BC: What happened that you’re so behind on your
rent?
Redo: Well, I haven’t sold anything for a while. For
several months. I don’t know if it’s the economy or what, but I suppose
that has something to do with it. We’re all affected by that.
BC: Art is a luxury, and when people start
scrimping…
Redo: Art is a luxury and on the other hand, it’s a
necessity for anyone who wants their consciousness raised. I feel like
I’m needed here.
BC: You are, but it would be nice if they would pay
you to be useful.
Redo: Although it’s difficult living from your art
at the best of times.
BC: Have you ever had this kind of down period
before?
Redo: Oh yeah, it goes up and down. I don’t have a
gallery or an agent. That makes it more difficult. I just haven’t been
able to find anyone that I could work with.
BC: It sounds like you’ve done pretty well without
it.
Redo: Yeah, I like being independent. I like not
depending on anyone to sell my work but me. But it’s difficult when you
spend most of your time doing the art. If you’re going to be selling
your work, you have to be talking to people. Like I said, I like talking
to people, but I just don’t have all the time in the world to do it. So
I tend to pass up a lot of opportunities that I would otherwise have
had.
My work is very pure because I’ve never done it for
commercial purposes.
BC: Which is interesting, because I can see some of
your paintings being used commercially.
Redo: And that’s fine, too. If it’s after the fact,
it’s OK. But I don’t feel right – I don’t know, it’s a quirk in my
personality, I suppose – I just can’t do the art for commercial
purposes, although it can be applied to commercial purposes. That’s
fine.
BC: It gets diluted, I think, if you’re thinking
half commercially and half artistically.
Redo:
Well, it depends on the artist. For some artists, this is not the
case at all. Some artists I know are purely commercial artists. And
they’re motivated by the money. That’s them. And that’s fine. That’s
what gets them going. But for me, I guess I’m idealistic and art for me
is a spiritual process.
[Portrait at the top of the page is by Ed Brooks.]