Ken Wade — Drawing, Sculpture, Painting, Songster,
I began making art in the early 1960s while living on the Island state of Tasmania; 125 miles off the SE coast of Australia. Four years later, back in the USA, my first American exhibition (1968) was at the Corcoran Museum, Washington DC; I exhibited a series of large Zig-Zag paintings.
The images to follow represent selected work from early 60s (Tasmania/Melbourne), work done in Washington (67-69), ultimately concluding with NYC during the 70s-80s up to the present.
On New Years' day 1970, my family and I moved from Washington, DC into the WestBeth Artist Housing. With us, a huge crate, that had followed us from Melbourne, to London, to Washington DC to New York City. The crate was packed solid with paintings and drawings that I had done in Australia, and weighed nearly 1500 lbs . We gratefully accepted management's offer of storage space in the basement facing the Westside Highway.
Long story short---there was a flood.
'BIRD IN THE BUSH' #9 was one of many dozens of BIRD's & NUDE's in the BUSH I painted during my 2 years in Tasmania. BIRD# 9 is the only painting from the crate that survived Westbeth's first flood.
I hope the *images with w/dates, titles, materials, a few antidotes, will tell the story of my 55 + years of art making.
*Clicking the first image will set up a sharp, full screen of each piece of art with information contained herein. Use the forward right arrow to advance each image. Left to return. By moving cursor away from text takes it out.

Tasmania gave me a world I'd never in my life had seen; The southern hemispheric night sky, all manner of strange animals (marsupials), non-deciduous-gum trees, and wild bush plants. I wanted desperately to draw and paint what I was seeing, especially live animals. After dark, outside my cabin door, the possums and The Tasmanian devil fought madly over the food scraps I tossed out after dinner. The Tassie Devil was far too foul-tempered-and dangerous to risk drawing during his nocturnal prowls.
Dazzled by the brilliantly colored high flying birds, dipping and soaring across the unbelievable deep blue Tasmanian sky. My urged to paint was where it should be...out of control.

During my years away from the States, I saw quite a bit of historys great art, including, the Pyramids of Egypt, The Acropolis, Stone Henge. But the day I had my art head turned upside down was in Washington DC the day in September when I walked from the Corcoran's school of Art into the museum atrium next door.

I was at once confronted and eventually overwhelmed by 2, Black, 40 foot high sculptures; Ronald Bladen's THE X, and Tony Smith's SMOKE. The pieces where being built on site in the museum and for me at stunning first moment I began a long journey to a new reckoning of what art was and could be.

The Smith-Bladen exhibition was up from October 7, 1967 until January 7, 1968.

The 6 Meditations presented here a few of the many Square Meditation drawings done 1968-69

The drawings were done with a Rapidograph ink pen following the snowflake rule; No 2 alike.

Lourdes, a Cuban tango partner, and poet one day stopped by with a bottle of wine to ask if I would play piano while she read her poem at St Marks's annual New Years day poetry reading. I had only just begun playing piano. I thought it might be fun to improv some poetic music and I agreed to play behind her words. What I did'nt know was that the pianist to proceed my shaky keyboard debut was a guy named Phillip Glass.

The Young American Woman series was the result of one rainy day, finding a book of photos floating in the gutter. It contained many hundreds of 1-inch faded black and white photos of young smiling college women. I took the book upstairs to my TriBecca studio, and after drying it out, began cutting out the pictures I liked best. As I selected I became fascinated by the way each woman had framed her face the way she styled her hair.

One day my friend and neighbor Susan Rothenberg stop by and after seeing the smiling young women asked if she could call her dealer at the Willard Gallery. Long story short; that Spring I had my first show in an Upper Eastside gallery.

(Final painting)
The BARGE painting was done the early-morning of July 4, 1990. The night before my new friend Alison Armstrong (our first date) and I were on the Hudson tacking east to west down river. Sometime before midnight around the 90's we were blindsided, colliding with an oil tanker barge. Alison did the right thing and jump into the water, I tried to paddle the kayak out of the flood of water that sucked me, first, into, and ultimately, beneath the bow. I have no idea how long I was trapped under the iron bottom of the barge, but somehow I emerged with air in my lungs from the starboard side of the stern. The tugboat, with its huge and powerful propellor, was pushing the block long barge at an angle on the port side 10 feet away. My head bleeding, I looked around for Alison but couldn't see her and called out and there she was waving frantically with her glasses still on, 15-20 feet towards Jersey. The kayak, upside down and damaged, was still afloat. The 60 degree water was cold and it was important that we get back in the boat because I knew that we were both getting close to hypothermia. We righted the boat and shimmied up and in. I fired off 2 flares which were seen by some Jersey teens out on a joy ride in daddy's cabin cruiser. We were taken to New Jersey, p/up by a waiting ambulance and rushed to St Mary's Hospital's Emergency room. With my head X-rayed, cleaned, stitched and bandaged, we were sent home in a taxi.

For the next few years any attempts to paint ended in depression. Sometimes all I had to do was pick up a brush for my energy to drain away. During these years I had several, of what I now know, were 'trauma triggers'; Sudden abrupt encounters, noises, any thing slightly out of the ordinary could set off fear and or rage.
I saw a doctor and was diagnosed with PTSD.
Over the next 10-12 years, I began to understand that healing whatever I had was going to take much longer than the 10 stitches in my head: In fact, for me to return to that which I had once been, was no longer an option.
There's nothing you can do but wait it out and one way or another, and get past it.
My Argentine neighbor, Coco persuaded me to take up Tango, and for whatever it's worth, I can testify, dancing the tango turned out to be a wonderful and healing, a remedy just what the doctor could not order. For 10 years I danced every night. Thanks Coco!
Then came the day, without thought or reason, I returned to the studio. found a big tin full of still moist clay and started to play...


1. Songs; Scotch and Soda, Dave Guard
2. The Girl From Ipanema, Antonio Carlos Jobim
3. Please click on the below View PDFs to see more.
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212 989-0828
kenwade@me.com