A few months ago I hung out in the French Quarter on warm evening nursing a beer and checking out some art. Two types of art down here, stuff for the tourists and really good art. Most of the galleries on Royal Street were closed by the time that I got over there. I prefer to just look in the windows anyway. Ironically the only time I'm ever comfortable in an art gallery is if it's my work on the wall. Other than that I don't belong in one.
One gallery's art stopped me dead in my tracks. The interior looked more like an English pub than an art gallery. Moody lights highlighted some inspiring artwork. Great cityscapes with taxis and buses. Beautiful scantily clad female figures done with taste and grace. Really cool work. I stood in front of the gallery somewhat melancholy as my buzz was fading. About four doors down, a scruffy street performer strummed on an equally weathered guitar. He picked away at "Margaretaville" as I took my last looks before I cruised on back home.
Out of all of the artist's work I saw that night, this was the only work I googled upon returning home. Turned out that he was a fellow New Jersian. Peter O'Niell.
Visit him on FaceBook: Peter O'Niell