I have been influenced by music, as far as my art career goes, for the majority of my life. I always enjoyed the Beatles, but the music, philosophy and humor of John Lennon captured my heart. I've never been partial to painting human portraits, but for some reason I am able to capture John's image in watercolor without much problem.

When I painted "Imagine" back in 1983 it was hailed as one of the best portraits I had ever done. It primarily attracted Beatles fans, and the fans it attracted were absolutely fanatical about it. I even had an offer from one person who told me he didn't care how much it cost-he just had to have it. I didn't feel bad when he never got back to me, though, because the painting meant so much to me I really didn't want to sell it. I did produce 1,300 post cards of Imagine and have only about ten remaining, if that accounts for anything.

Another idea came to mind, though, when I heard that Julian Lennon was on tour and was coming to my area, which was Southern California at the time. The concert was promoting his first album titled Valotte released sometime around the late '80s. I knew I would never meet John because of his tragic murder, but I had a chance to meet his son. I decided in my mind and heart that the painting was worth more to me than anyone could ever afford to pay me, yet I felt overwhelmingly compelled to give it to Julian. I honestly felt that he should have it.

I called the theater and was given a name of someone to ask for when I arrived. I found that person and was given another name, etc, etc, until I found myself backstage. Of course everyone along the way had to see the gift I was bringing, just in case I was a threat of some sort. Who could blame them? His dad had been shot five times. Finally someone of importance said I could give it to him after the concert but that I had to leave it back there during the event, probably because of the glass in the picture. I agreed to that and was very nervous throughout the concert.

After the concert I slowly found my way backstage where I had left the painting. I asked several people about it, and finally a man brought it out to me and told me that Julian was not allowed to receive gifts because he gets so many things that they never know what to do with everything. I was shattered! I should've been happy to keep my prized possession, but I was so emotionally prepared to give it away to someone I thought really deserved it. I must've looked pretty sad, because five minutes later another man came up to me and told me to show it to Julian anyway. I told him I would.

About an hour had passed and a crowd was gathering to meet him. I didn't know where they came from or what reasons they used to get back there, but I was starting to feel like I shouldn't be there. And then Julian came walking toward me with at least five people around him. He walked passed everyone else and came right to me! He kissed me on the cheek and got down on his knees to talk to me, right at my eye level-a rare consideration for an able-bodied person, I believe. We talked about his performance and he told me he had a cold and felt really worn out. I then told him I wanted to show him something and uncovered the painting. He thought it was beautiful, and that's when I said I was told he couldn't accept any gifts. He looked at me and asked almost in surprise and anger which person had told me that. I didn't know who the person had been, and I really didn't want to be in a snitch situation either. Anyway, he said he would love to accept it and he thanked me a thousand times. He autographed a picture for me and we went our separate ways. 

Several years later, a friend of a friend had seen one of the post cards. This person happened to know Julian personally and told my friend he had seen that painting hanging in Julian's bedroom! I was so happy that he didn't just put it away in a stack of things, and that he truly valued it.

"Imagine If..." was created in 1985 as a gift for someone who was once very close to me. This person still has the original, but I managed to make 250 limited edition, hand-signed lithographs before we parted ways.

In August of 1999, Julian was again on tour with a new album titled "Photograph Smile". He was in my city, Las Vegas, and I thought to myself-what are the chances of me meeting him again, almost 10 years later and giving him a lithograph? And what would he think about me always doing portraits of his father? With lithograph in hand, I headed for the Mandalay Bay Hotel to try my luck again.

I went to the concert without any preparation for going backstage other than mentioning the idea to a security type person. He pointed to a door on the other side of the theater from me and said to try over there when the crowd died down. I did just what he said, and with the lithograph in full view of everyone, I was backstage in less than 20 minutes. At first they (security people) offered to take the lithograph backstage and have Julian sign it for me. I explained that I didn't want his autograph, I just wanted to give him a gift. A friend of his walked by and told me to wait, and that he would see what he could do. Suddenly the door swung open and a security guard waved me in! I could only enter about 15 feet because there was a small flight of stairs in front of me. But there I was with one security guard and backstage again, just waiting for Julian to come out.

When I saw him coming from across the room I was so excited! He had just done a fabulous concert, and I was very happy to have a chance to talk with him again. He sat on the steps next to me, and we were virtually alone other than people walking passed us up and down the small staircase. We talked about so many things-I did have to remind him a little about our meeting of 10 years earlier, but once I mentioned the painting of "Imagine" he remembered everything right away. He told me what a great artist I was, and that he still had "Imagine" hanging in his house. I told him how much I enjoyed his performance, and that moving away from Los Angeles was probably the best thing he could've done for his music. I also told him how happy I was that he decided to keep singing in spite of all the critics. I asked him if he thought I was pretty weird to keep painting his dad so much! I promised I wouldn't bring him another one next time--he just laughed and said he loved them anyway.

We spent about 20 minutes together. He offered me an autographed poster or something, and I told him he already gave me a great evening. I told him that I already had his autograph and didn't want anything else from him. He seemed very touched and appreciative. We parted once again for about an hour until he saw me waiting outside for a wheelchair taxi. He ran over to me to say goodbye and to ask me if I was ok. I assured him I was, and he kissed me on the cheek and ran back to his security people. All I could think about for weeks was what a sweet and genuine person he really is.

I heard a rumor that Julian will be coming back next year with an orchestra, and I would love to spend some time with him again. I doubt that I will have another painting of his dad, though. Hopefully I will get yet another chance to say hello to my friend Julian-and maybe he won't mind not getting a painting of his dad. Maybe he'll be happy with me just bringing him my friendship and admiration.