The UAP Stamps

In December, 2017, a ground-shaking article appeared in the New York Times authored by Leslie Kean, Ralph Blumenthal, and Helene Cooper that almost no one I know noticed. People who view themselves as informed, interested and concerned about current events simply ignored the piece. In what should have caused the entire planet to to come to a standstill, the story somehow avoided being one of the most dramatic and fascinating mysteries that everyone was talking about due to the nature of the subject, which has been ridiculed and demeaned and relegated to the fringes of serious discussion. The piece, accompanied by stark and strange videos taken by Navy aviators (later authenticated by the Pentagon), which showed craft of unknown origin exhibiting remarkable flight characteristics well beyond anything known to exist within the bounds of human technology interacting with and outperforming the Navy F-18’s. The craft, recorded by FLIR cameras, have not yet been adequately explained. How they operate and under who’s control they are guided remains unknown. Why this hasn’t received greater attention is likely a consequence of decades of enforced stigma attached to the subject of UFO’s, now referred to as UAP. This revelation has implications across every aspect of life on earth, yet aside from new congressional investigations and the formation of a data collecting effort within the defense establishment, humanity goes on as blithely as ever.

The UAP stamps are an effort to broaden exposure of this topic, and a an opportunity to ponder what might an official U.S. postage stamp commemorating these interactions look like if the government were more candid and forthcoming. The images are based on stills captured from the FLIR footage, and are presented in a no-nonsense, almost mundane way. The titles of the stamps refer to the various Navy videos, Gimbal, Tic-Tac, Go-Fast, etc, as well as the names of the carriers the pilots were attached to. The denominations indicate either the year the events took place or relate to the year the Times article appeared.

The Times article hit me with such persuasive force, my view of this entire topic switched from skepticism or even antagonism to a hunger to know more and digest the history of this mystery which has decades (some would say centuries), of precedent.

The Lost Buildings of New York

This series began as an exploration in story telling, and to see if I could communicate an idea that had a certain emotional resonance, apparent to anyone viewing the work. My hope is that a sense of beautiful melancholy will be stirred, without the images being explicit or morose. The project was inspired by an old book I found at Scrap, in San Francisco, called “King’s Views of New York”, by Moses King (1906), a pictorial celebration of all the magnificent new office buildings, mansions, bridges, tunnels, and other infrastructure that had recently appeared or were underway in New York City that year. It enthusiastically described how many tons of steel such and such new building used, or how many miles of copper wire was expended. It acted as a sort of time capsule: an exuberant glimpse into a different country, one that could without hesitation champion a kind of imperial project that was the city being built.

Given the period, the Beaux Arts & Classical Revival styles were in full swing, and architecture both public and private, was influenced by the prevailing trend for ornamentation and ostentation. At the same time, steel frame curtain wall construction and the invention of the elevator had engendered a new building type: the skyscraper. The leading manufacturing, banking, and insurance companies all needed to have a presence in New York, and wanted their buildings to embody a sense of solidity, wealth, and nobility. The builders understood they were making the new Rome, and spared no expense. Architecture was seen as a way of communicating the American ideals of Greek democracy and Roman law, and the belief that they were constructing greatness, for the ages. To do otherwise was viewed as undeserving for such an important city, and beneath the reputation of the owners. A building was seen not just as a symbol of the occupants, but as a contribution to civic life…an improvement for all citizens to enjoy. These soaring, elegant towers were a source of pride and made the city the undisputed capital of our nation’s commerce.

Being a frequent visitor to New York in recent years, I decided to see how many of the unbelievably beautiful buildings shown in “King’s Views”, survived, and was quite heartbroken to find that many had been demolished (it’s still happening), and was appalled by the abysmal, soulless, ugly things that have arisen in their place. In my view, something had changed, not just stylistically (I don’t believe we need to still build in the Classical manner, and there are stunning, innovative modern towers), but that a change of attitude had occurred. Buildings had become cheap, uniform, and anonymous. A certain coldness has enveloped Manhattan, with generic glass boxes reflecting each other without any sense of scale, warmth, or wonder. They are totally unconcerned with contributing to the aesthetic enhancement of the city, and speak only to themselves. They don’t seem to have emerged organically, calling to mind a specific place, but are more like ominous spores masquerading as a style. They appear to be in a hurry, indifferent to their surroundings and feel oddly temporary. They are simply deals, and places to park money, wrapped within a glazed curtain wall. It would be as if Florence allowed the demolition of the Medici Palaces, and erected shiny, sterile, featureless high-rises, each with a Chase Bank and perhaps a Duane Reade or a KFC occupying the bland and uninviting ground level.

It seems a sensibility has died, and urban life is all the poorer as result.

Unprintable Material

"We would love to produce all designs submitted, however Z***** prides itself on upholding all intellectual property rights as well as our own content guidelines and copyright policies. In this instance, your order contained products with copyright-protected content related to US postage Stamps, which Z***** is not currently licensed to produce on merchandise whether or not it is a real postage stamp.  Your order has been cancelled in full."

The above came in response to my attempt to produce a business card with an on-line custom printing company using one of my fictitious postage stamps as a design element (El Capitan 5¢).   After the rejection, I wrote back to them pleading my case informing them that I am in fact the holder of the copyright and that the stamp is entirely a creation of my imagination.   There never has been a U.S. Postage stamps like this one, and likely never will be.  I implored them to reinstate the order as designed.  Again it was rejected.  Two more times.

Finally I called their customer service number to speak with someone from the design review team asking exactly which copyright was being violated.   Was it the stamp shape, with a perforated edge?   Was it the words USA?  5¢? El Capitan?   The increasingly flustered rep could only say that my work looked like a stamp, and that postage stamps couldn't be printed, period.    

I'm tempted to submit my design again, this time with a stamp that is completely black, with no text, then incrementally submit orders that gradually add text and imagery, just to see at what point the copyright violation panic is triggered.

The Myth of the Single-Haired Brush

The question people most often ask me about my stamp paintings is whether or not I use a single-haired brush to accomplish the minute detail. The answer is no, and that  even surprisingly large, good quality sable brushes (2-6 Rounds), can deliver fine detail if handled properly.  A magnifying glass comes in handy too.

People also wonder if I have a background in stamp collecting.   Sorry to disappoint, but  this is not the case.  As a young boy I did have a box of stamps with a special fascination for foreign ones and always loved the beautiful designs and the quality of the printing, but a dedicated philatelist I was not.  What got me started painting postage stamps was when a good friend gave me an antique French postcard with an old stamp and postmark on back.   As a thank you, I did a watercolor of the backside of the postcard replicating the stamp, and became intrigued with the notion of imitating printed material through painting.  I then started doing stamps for every occasion, and found that given my penchant for realism, the postage stamp was the perfect self-limiting art form.  What I mean is that due to the small scale, I could get in and get out without worrying about how to finish the painting.  There's only so much information you can add in something that small.   Working out a plausible design is also appealing, and I like to think that any one of my stamps could really have existed.  

Typically my imaginary U.S. stamps are monochromatic, and reflect the coloration of stamps from the golden age of American stamp production which in my opinion is the 1930's-1950's. After that, it was mostly downhill for U.S. stamp design, and I almost have to hold my nose to use the ugly self-adhesive things that pass for postage these days.   Achieving a realistic effect is also a priority and I want anyone viewing the work to think there's actually a stamp mounted to the paper.  I can't tell you how many times people have picked up my paintings and attempted to find the edge of the stamp by using their fingernail, much to my alarm.