NEWS PRESS, MR. BILL AND THE BILL COSBY EFFECT

The Mustache Man By Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo

CHAPTER FOUR

If what’s alleged about Bill Cosby is less sweet than a pudding pop, watchdog journalists, like Mark Whitaker, won’t investigate thoroughly; so too when it comes to Mr. Bill in the news press. In 1914, Walter Williams wrote “The Journalist’s Creed”. Essentially, it reads:

I believe in the profession of journalism.

I believe that the public journal is a public trust, that all connected with it are, to the full measure of responsibility, trustees for the public, that all acceptance of lesser service than the public service is a betrayal of trust.

I believe that clear thinking, clear statement, accuracy and fairness are fundamental to good journalism.

I believe that a journalist should write only what he holds in his heart to be true.

I believe that suppression of the news, for any consideration other than the welfare of society, is indefensible.

I believe that no one should write as a journalist what he would not say as a gentleman, that bribery by one’s own pocket book is as much to be avoided as bribery by the pocketbook of another, that individual responsibility may not be escaped by pleading another’s instructions or another’s dividends.

I believe that advertising, news and editorial columns should alike serve the best interests of readers; that a single standard of helpful truth and cleanness should prevail for all; that supreme test of good journalism is the measure of its public service.

I believe that the journalism which succeeds the best and best deserves success fears God and honors man; is stoutly independent; unmoved by pride of opinion or greed of power; constructive, tolerant but never careless, self-controlled, patient, always respectful of it’s readers but always unafraid, is quickly indignant at injustice; is unswayed by the appeal of the privilege or the clamor of the mob; seeks to give every man a chance, and as far as law, an honest wage and recognition of human brotherhood can make it so, an equal chance is profoundly patriotic while sincerely promoting international good will and cementing world-comradeship, is a journalism of humanity, of and for today’s world.

 Well, that was then and this is now. In the internet age of NBC News Director, Brian Williams, being everywhere but in reality, journalist’s hide behind clips of kittens, puppies and laughing babies trending online, while wiping their asses with the Journalist’s Creed, which is why, I fused Hunter S. Thompson’s gonzo journalism with Salvador Dali’s style of impregnating subliminal messages into psychedelically-poetic-cryptic works of art, to create modern art gonzo journalism for The Lied To Generation through the Modern Art Music Movement (MAMM). 

The twenty-four hour news cycle is brimming with cross-legged beauties wearing little more than big smiles while flashing their stately pair of gams for the camera’s voyeuristic gaze as teleprompters feed them the horrific news of the day, before thanking rainbow colored pundits tripping over themselves to avoid saying, “You’re welcome”, in response to the inviting news anchors gratitude for joining the staged broadcast. Instead, we as audience witness talking heads state, with great inflection intimating courteous one-upmanship, “No! Thank you, for having me, on your program.”

One can only imagine the number of viewers who masturbate while watching the news, in a world where titillation has replaced fact and, on that note, with a long, hard stroke of my thick, wet brush I finished painting “Boston Strong” in front of an open-mouthed audience in Fort Myers, Florida, that was begging for more. Alas, there was no encore from the All-Star Band, at the Boston Red Sox Spring Training Home-Opener. The eager crowd got what they deserved and from the satisfied look on their faces, they loved every moment of the MAMM Jam experience.

“What the hell was that?” Mr. Bill asked, when I got off stage.

“Modern art gonzo journalism.” I answered, nonplussed. “I paint the news.”

“Thank God it wasn’t one of your DNA Series.” Mr. Bill shook his head in disgust and walked away muttering. “Sperm painting.”

“Hey Bill, where am I staying tonight? I don’t have a place to rest and last night cost me three hundred bucks out of pocket. What’s up?” I asked the back of Mr. Bill’s head.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Mr. Bill answered, without turning around. “I’m busy.”

At that moment, I remembered a rumor about a friend of mine who plays with The Cars, J Geils Band and The Bellevue Cadillac. Allegedly, Mr. Bill had asked the beloved musician to join the All Star Band for a gig on Wall Street to raise money for wounded veterans but when it came time to reimburse the artist for travel expenses and accommodations, as promised, Mr. Bill failed to honor his word and left the well-respected performer in the red.

It’s a small world and news travels fast about a person’s reputation but all I knew about Mr. Bill at that point was, that like Bill Cosby, both men were highly regarded, well-liked and doted on by those who did not wish to disturb the Natural Order of Things in the entertainment world, so bad press was hard to come by for either man and uttering anything negative about Mr. Bill or Bill Cosby, was simply taboo in the entertainment industry.

I chose to reserve judgment as I stared at Mr. Bill ignoring my concerns in favor of being fawned by fans, backstage, in front of his girlfriend, Melissa. The truth is hard to swallow, so I buried my instinct and threw myself into the only thing that made sense to me at that point; the steady process of cleaning brushes, packing paint cans and breaking down my easel after an exhausting MAMM Jam performance. 

Hypocrisy Of Philanthropy

 THE HYPOCRISY OF PHILANTHROPY By Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo

CHAPTER THREE 

Philanthropy is great but some charities are a sham whose only purpose is to make money for the producer of the fundraiser. Most charities are legitimate but others exploit children, veterans or the handicapped by using paid fundraisers whose fees eat up most of a donation through loopholes, so very little money is actually shared with those most in need. 

In 2013, total giving to charitable organizations was $335.17 billion. Hundreds of charities claim to help the disadvantaged but how much of the money raised actually goes to the cause being donated to and how much cash goes to the fundraiser?

The answer, unfortunately, is almost nothing goes to the motive. Even if regulators try to shut down unscrupulous fundraisers for fooling donors, most operate without fear of reckoning because mainstream media, that survives on the public trust of its audience, has accepted exploitation of the underprivileged as status quo and therefore under reports the fact that very little money makes it to those who need it most when it comes to fundraising.

Case in point, the story of Charles Runnells, who covers arts and entertainment for The News Press in Fort Myers, Florida. When asked to research allegations of fraud by an alleged scammer in his community, focusing on specific causes like handicapped children and disabled veterans to play on the generosity of his readership, Mr. Runnells dismissed the accusation, as not worthy of his time for a thorough, in-depth investigation.

If you are thinking about giving to a charity, beware of fundraisers who: refuse to provide detailed information about identity, mission, costs and how donations will be used; won’t provide proof that a contribution is tax deductible; use high-pressure tactics in shaming you to donate; refuse to provide proof of percentage of donation actually going to the charity; refuse to provide forensic accounting of how much money will be going to the fundraiser, after expenses; are not registered with the state as a charity or fundraiser.

If you think you’ve been the victim of a charity scam, file a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission or contact your State Attorney. There is no glory in being a stooge. Stand strong in the face of adversity. Your action can help detect patterns of unscrupulousness that may lead to investigations and prosecutions.

I wrote some of what you just read on canvas, in front of Red Sox fans, during my performance at the Boston Strong Modern Art Music Movement (MAMM) Jam in Fort Myers, FL. When I’m on stage, I enter a trance, filling the void with colorful letters that swirl into words that dance in syncopation to the wavelengths and frequencies of sounds that surround me, manifesting sentences that educate audiences in a cacophony of coloring that provides a foundation, for the work of art created to serve as a historical document of the event, for future generations to consider, and digest, in light of the fact that, if you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything, because truth is imprinted on the canvas of life.    

BOSTON STRONG

M O D E R N   A R T  G O N Z O   J O U R N A L I S M 

CHAPTER TWO - BOSTON STRONG 

Created by The Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo

                                 

Boston Strong Created Live at the Opening Game of  Spring Training for the World Series Champions,  Boston Red Sox at Jet Blue Stadium, Fort Myers, Florida, March 2014

“All interesting artists are autodidacts.” – Massimiliano Gioni

In some Italian provinces, the word ‘artist’ is a synonym for dunce.  An artist must walk a tightrope between being perceived as  an  illustrious nobody or a famous intellectual by critics disguised as cultural sycophants in an arena filled with smoke and mirrors. Being a creator is not a career for fragile egos, so to be a virtuoso, one must have thick skin. 

I have been called all sorts of things by critics, not all of them complimentary, but I survive and my work will live on, long after my corporal being exits this plane of existence, in the expanding multi-universe.

In 2005, after performing a MAMM Jam with Rhythmm Epkins, drummer for “The English Beat”, and founder of  the R&B  funk  group, “Mind, Body & Soul”,  to  raise  money  for  the  mentally handicapped, at a sold-out show in Bakersfield, California, where the first five rows were reserved for the mentally challenged, who were the most appreciative audience I have ever had the pleasure of performing  in  front  of, I became known, by some critics, as, “Victor-Hugo: The Artist of Retards”.

When I performed MAMM Jams during 2009 Art Basel Week in Miami, Florida to sold-out, standing room only crowds attending the infamous, “Crackhead Jesus: The Second Coming Art Exhibition”, at the  “Buck 15 Gallery Lounge”  on  Lincoln Road,  a large group of women from Weight Watchers joined me onstage while I painted the unique moment on canvas, at which point, I became known, by some critics, as, “Victor-Hugo: The Artist of Fat Chicks and Retards”.

Some  call  me,  “The Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo” others  call  me,  “The Maverick Meatball”. Whatever  the  case,  I’m  happy.  However, as I am an artist/activist birthed from a business background,  I've  come  to  notice  that artists are often treated like “The-Retards-of-the-Business-World” instead of sober-entrepreneurs,  by  some  ignorant  top  brass. Though, thankfully, not all influence makers exploit an artists’ passion, those who choose to dim the light instead of fueling the soul, manifest dark energy that fills the multi-universe, all this, in spite of knowing that entertainment is, in fact, like any other business, an industry that must flow perpetually, in balance of soul currency, to exist infinitely.

Art is not cheap to create.  It  takes  effort,  ingenuity and time and since time is money, if I had a Bitcoin, for every time someone, like Mr. Bill, told me,  “Why don’t you perform for free, it’ll be good exposure?” or, “How about giving me one of your paintings, for free, to hang in my mansion, so all my filthy-rich friends can see your work, while smoking weed?”  I’d be a tycoon of Rothschild proportions.

Do these unenlightened moguls ask Doctors to perform surgery for free or ask lawyers to satisfy their legal issues, free of charge, because it’s good practice?

I  don’t  think  so.  An  artist  must  always  risk  failure,  for failure  is  part  of  the  process  but that doesn't mean creators should accept the status quo of double-dealing in business matters or any other affairs. An artist has class mobility, for that reason, particularly in a disturbed society, a virtuoso must ask the right questions, open consciousness, raise awareness and elevate minds.

An artist should serve mankind, for that reason, humanity should not become complacent with the profiteering of an artist because a true artist can be childlike forever and the exploitation of children is  detrimental  to  any  culture  pursuing  Enlightenment.  Some muddled  people  feel  the world doesn't need artists because art doesn't meet our basic needs to survive but that’s bogus; art fuels the soul currency of human capital that trumps any banknote or material treasure.

These thoughts raced through my aching head, as I prepared to meet my audience of special children at The Able Academy in Naples, Florida, hours before my gig with the All Stars at the Boston Red Sox Spring Training Opener in Fort Myers, Florida, to honor victims of the Boston Marathon bombing. As if taunting my choice of career, the outstretched, blank canvas, measuring 36 x 71, clipped to the front of a long table turned on it’s side, resting atop another elongated table, stared back at me, screaming, “Fail! Fail! Fail!”

I’ve heard people say that animals can sense fear and weakness. I don’t know what experts say about children with autism but I can tell you this, the moment the Able Academy director opened the door, to let kids into the room where I stood vulnerable, feeling helpless and alone in a cruel world, a beautiful boy ran to me, clasped my knees lovingly and looked up at me like a cherub in a chapel. I felt such overwhelming affection from the pint-sized angel holding a tight grip on me that, in an instant, all the negativity and cynicism inside of me washed away like the Great Flood. I fought back tears in that abstract moment that seemed to last a lifetime because I did not want to break down in front of the celestial beings surrounding me.

One by one, frail angels entered the room, coalescing in the ecstasy of colors, dancing freely with paint and brushes in their tiny hands as they guided me through the purity of love being expressed on canvas without shame, guilt or remorse.  I noticed one child slumped in the corner with his face in his hands. He beckoned me with magnificent eyes that stared at me through the cracks in his fingers.

“”Would you like to paint with us?” I asked, as I knelt down before him.

“Art has power.” He said, letting his guard down.

“Yes, it does.” I said as I placed a brush in his hand. “Show me what you can do.”

“Believe in your greatness and it will be the death of your creativity.” He said, taking my hand in his and leading me to the canvas where we melted into the void of color alongside the other offspring.

The joy was so intense, time flew by the way magic moments do and before I knew it the unique experience was over. I said goodbye to the kids, packed my equipment, called Todd, who was patiently waiting outside the hotel after having checked out and assured him I was on my way to get him for the hour-long journey to Fort Myers.

He reminded me that we were running late.

Before leaving, the stunned school director asked me how I had managed to get the catatonic child to speak.  She  said  it  was  a  miracle  because  the  juvenile  never  spoke  to  anyone.  I  told  her  I communicated with respect and dignity. The innocent confided in me that the adults didn't understand them and didn't pay attention, which frankly, was no surprise to me, since out of the mouth of babes comes truth and most adults can’t handle the truth, which is why some adolescents choose to stay silent.

Traffic was at a crawl, leading up to the stadium in Fort Myers.  It seemed all of creation had come to cheer for the World Series Champions at the Spring Training Opener. My manager had coordinated for the Boston Red Sox to sign the painting created with the Able Academy children, for the artwork to be auctioned off in their benefit but when I got to the stadium,  Mr.  Bill  chastised  me  for  my manager doing so, claiming she had overstepped her bounds, “It’s my show, damn it!”  He stated indefatigably before adding, “Hurry up, you’re late! The band goes on stage in 10 minutes.”

“This is your friend?” Todd said, looking at Mr. Bill with disgust and me with sympathy, as Mr. Bill’s girlfriend Melissa approached me with open arms and a huge smile.

“Oh my God! I heard you got my son to speak, I wish I could have been there.” She said holding back tears.

“Why weren't you?” I thought to myself, sinking into her warm embrace while Mr. Bill stared back at me with contempt that I could not explain.

One by one, the All Stars embraced me before going on stage. I was reunited with members of Bon Jovi, Boston, The Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan, The Wailers, Third World, The James Brown Band and Foster Child, none of which were aware of the harrowing experience that had preceded our moment in time before the Boston Red Sox fans in Fort Myers. Like the victims of the Boston bombing, I was determined to carry on, undaunted by adversity, and so I did, creating “Boston Strong” alongside music industry titans, in front of a live audience on February 28, 2014.

The painting, “Boston Strong”, is signed by Bon Jovi’s bass player, Hugh McDonald; Fran Sheehan, the former bassist and original member of the band Boston; Barry Goudreau, guitarist and original member of the band Boston; Leroy Romans, former keyboard player for Third World and The Wailers; Robert “Mousey” Thompson, drummer for the late James Brown; Danny Beissel of the band Foster Child; B.A.M. (Bad Ass Musician) and Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo.