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Community Corner

The Art of Fame

Warhol sat for him while Bill Gates complained about him—Philip Burke's career has been an artistic study in fame, rebellion and humanity.

Living in Southern California, we’re constantly surrounded by the allure of fame, with every billboard, movie, and TV commercial. Our politicians are stars, musicians are considered godlike, and the personal lives of film actors are followed religiously. Looking at the glamorized representations of celebrities that grace every magazine, it’s difficult to shed the perception that their cult is not impermeable, and sometimes it’s hard to realize that their iconic and myth-like image is only an illusion.

The Philip Burke art collection at Old Town Gallery on Main Street obliterates the contrived image of celebrity. His illustrations are a penetrating and intimate exploration of their humanity.

“My goal is to create images where you see something of yourself in the subject. Where you can see the inside of a person,” said Burke.

Chances are you’ve already seen his caricatures of famous rock stars, actors and politicians flipping through the New York Observer, Rolling Stone, Vogue, or Time magazine, among others.

As the featured artist of Rolling Stone for 10 years, it’s no surprise that Burke’s caricatures of rock stars are his most compelling, deeply reflective and intense pieces. “Rock stars tend to have such wild personalities, and I listen to loud rock music while I'm painting,” he said.

Burke breathes rock and roll in his art, and he documents music history in the making. Burke’s empathic rendition of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, painted shortly after the singer’s suicide, is a prime example. Burke paints Cobain as taut and wide-eyed. Cobain’s hands are frail and clenched. His demeanor is uncomfortable. This wasn't the voice of a generation, but a reluctant deer caught in fame’s headlights.

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 Burke’s portrait of Jimi Hendrix, however, tells a different story. The influences of Van Gogh are hinted by the swirling brushstrokes that morph Hendrix and his guitar into one surreal being. Burke’s Hendrix isn't a darling of Woodstock or a nostalgic symbol of the 60s. Rather, it’s a portrait of a man who can hypnotize you with a couple of riffs of “Purple Haze.”

Missing Woodstock by nearly a decade, Burke came of age at a time when the sentiments of peace and love transformed into Anarchy in the UK. Burke was first introduced to an emerging music presence in New York City as a naive and sheltered 21-year-old. It was 1977, and punk rock had just burst onto the music scene.

“The whole punk scene was kind of my musical awakening,” he said. A regular at the infamous punk hangout CBGB, Burke describes the New York-bred band Ramones as a major influence. “What I look for in music is something that gets my blood moving. That type of energy I like to have in my studio.”

But it was his encounter with sophisticated punk rockers The Clash that Burke describes as one of his greatest experiences during the late 70s. Somehow, he found out where The Clash’s manager was staying. Keeping with the brash punk rock spirit, Burke knocked on the manager’s door at the Gramercy Hotel with a bunch of Clash paintings. The manager was impressed. He offered Burke backstage passes to their show and a promised meeting with the lead singer.

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“[The manager] said nobody ever gives us anything; this is so strange and great,’” said Burke. Idolizing the band during his youth, his meeting with singer Joe Strummer was a turning point in his life. “When I met him, he was full of himself,” said Burke matter-of-factly. It was an eye-opener. For the very first time, Burke realized that the “media image of someone is very different than the actual personality of the person.”

It was his greatest lesson personally and in terms of his work, said Burke.

By the time the 80s hit, Burke was a regular contributor of Vanity Fair and the Village Voice. “I was stubborn in the early days of my career,” he said. “I felt like this was do or die, and I wasn't going to do another job on the side.”

After repeated rejection for being too wild in his art, Burke finally gained recognition for this work. Challenging conservative mindsets, Burke riled the offices of Vanity Fair during the first Gulf War.

“I turned the CNN Newsroom into [Picasso’s] Guernica,” said Burke. “The new art director said, ‘How am I supposed to print a picture where the producer is raping the women?’ That was a lot of fun.”

Thanks to Vanity Fair, Burke’s art was recognized by America's leading pop culture icon. Burke bumped into Andy Warhol on a New York street. It’s only fitting that the commentator of “15 minutes of fame” was a fan of Burke’s art after seeing his illustrations in Vanity Fair, and the two began a friendship. It took Burke a year to get the courage to ask Warhol if he could paint him. “He sat for four hours. He was hard to figure out. I was a nervous wreck. At the time, I thought it was terrible. [Now] I love it,” said Burke.

Though Warhol appreciated Burke’s daring style, Bill Gates spurned the artist after seeing Burke’s rendition of Gates in Fortune magazine. “Bill Gates was very upset and wrote a memo to the editor saying, ‘How do you expect to sell magazines if you put this in it?’ That made me feel like I got a rise,” said Burke. “At the time I was going for the jugular, but my opinion of him has changed over the years.”

Yet it was Rolling Stone, instead of Vanity Fair, which allowed Burke to express his unrestrained creativity by giving him full artistic control in the 90s. As a teenager, Burke was influenced by the magazine’s satirical artists and drew cartoons of imaginary bands. “I always felt like it would be my goal to work in Rolling Stone.” For 10 years, Burke brought his work to the magazine until an art director finally hired him.

“The [new] art director was very excited to get work that he didn't know what he was getting. There was an element of surprise, they didn’t need to see any sketches, and I didn't have to redo my work always,” Burke said. “Everything changed after 9/11. Everything has gotten conservative. Now it’s really unusual to do what you want.”

Burke’s an intuitive rebel, an observer of the times, who speaks harsh truth through his caricatures. Compare his illustration of George W. Bush to the complicated and meaningful portrayal of Kurt Cobain. Bush is simple, gun-toting and bloated. He's a reckless cowboy.

“I am definitely left when it comes to voting,” said Burke. “I just love screwing with the Republicans.”

But it is his portrait of Miles Davis, rather than any politician or rock star, that Burke describes as his favorite subject.

“Miles, Miles, Miles: There is something about his fiercely independent spirit and look in his eyes that really inspired me,” he said. Though Davis is long dead, Burke still manages to find the essence of the artist by analyzing videos. “My preparation involves studying a person that I’m doing. Between Google and YouTube, I have a lot of possibilities.”

The very nature of caricatures is comedic exaggeration, but Burke desires to understand and learn about his subjects in an effort to infuse his work with authentic social commentary.

“There’s a spiritual aspect. My goal is for you to see what it means to be human,” he said.
A collection of Philip Burke’s art can be seen at the Old Town Gallery on 130 Main St. in Seal Beach.

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