Alias Houdini (The Making of an Artist)

The Meowing of an Artist

Can't help it, I've always liked aliases. Here's the story behind two of my aliases, "Henri Tupperson" and "Alex d'Angelo":

A friend owns 2 cats. One, King Henry Houdini, is a black longhair who purrs as passionately as a Latin lover and triumphs as an escape-artist who squeezes through slits in pursuit of tasty plump mice. The other, tubby Tuppy, is an orange-haired fat boy who likes to mimic sofa cushions. From the 2 names, Henri Tupperson was born - a round-bellied Victorian banker with a secret life as an artist.

The same friend provided 2 dogs for my pseudonymn addiction. One (now deceased) was a a terrier named "Angel"; Angel's favorite pasttime was snoring. The other, "Alex", is a senile, eccentric, incontinent and nearly bald bichon frise with extreme separation anxiety. He's talented at begging and scrounging for treats in the trash; in a prior life, he might have taught the homeless the finer points of dumpster diving. Whenever humans leave him alone, Alex yaps and pees; when humans eat, he limps on his 2 good legs (while dragging the other two, mole-spotted ones along) to the table and cries "Maw, Maw", or perhaps "More, more, Mama". The pseudonym "Alex d'Angelo" was borne of their fused identities. The name suggests a darkly handsome young man with the blood of exiled Russian nobility on the distaff side. Or a master chef from a long lineage of chefs, ready to turn piss into vinegrette and poop into succulent sausage. Or perhaps, he's a stooped old woodworker who merely looks "in pain" when he attempts the Brad Pitt smirk that once worked such charms on the ladies. The name hardly suggests a balding dog who knocks over trash cans to devour gravy-spattered wrappers.

When I wanted to exhibit more than the allotted number of pieces at a local co-op art show, I simply introduced the gallery to the work of two previously inactive members - Henri Tupperson and Alex d'Angelo. Both received official "membership cards" and welcome letters. Who says that cats don't paint, or that dogs can't draw with their nimble tongues?

Here's the email I sent to my friend, after I'd signed her cats and dogs up for the artist's life:


"Hello!
"Artplace has just gained 2 new members: Henri Tupperson and Alex d'Angelo, who live together in a notorious blue cottage on M. Street. Both are multi-media artists and will be contributing pieces to upcoming Artplace shows.

"Yep, it's me playing with aliases again....But this means that I can really enter *more* pieces in each show (There's usually a limit per person), albeit under brush-names. And, it's one way of clearing some of the crap out of my house. If someone notes similarities in color choice and style among 3 Artplace artists - ah, well, Henri, Alex and I live near each other, often critique each other's work, and have markedly influence each other aesthetically.

"If anyone calls from Artplace about the work of Henri Tupperson or Alex d'Angelo, you'll know what's going on. Of course, neither chap can "speak on the phone right now"; both are too prone to snarl, yap or yowl with minimal provocation. But, if Artplace calls to say that a whatchamacallit fell off the back of one of their works, making it impossible to hang, you'll know to call the usual imp.

"Take care and don't lose it,
art-agent, agent provocateur

As artists, Alex d'Angelo and Henri Tupperson were prolific:
My friend's elderly Bichon Frise, capitalizing on his episodes of fecal and urinary incontinence, now uses poop to create impasto textures and pee for thin "washes"; painting with brushes made from only a few fine hairs plucked from the tip of his curling tail, he's emerged as a leading member of the Canine Expressionism school. Of the cat's work, critic's have written "Thousands of short and long, fine and course, orange and black hairs embedded in the paint add a dimension to the work rarely seen anywhere other than an unvacuumed rug"; Henri Tupperson, famished for realism in a world of the "virtual" that lacks both taste and smell, has depicted fish scales, fish grins, Purina nuggets and mouse entrails in his series "A Cat's Eye View".

My friend responded ecstatically to my news:
"You are the BEST artist's rep in the world. Henri and Alex A. have been fretting and fretting about how to get their work into galleries. Alex...well--do you remember that artist who decorated his painting of the Madonna with elephant dung? (I believe that was when Rudy Giuliano threw a hissy fit and wanted it removed from the Brooklyn Museum.) Anyway, Alex D' A. has some magnificent works composed ENTIRELY of dog poop--and he's so glad that he'll have a good venue in which to show them. As for Henri--who can deny that his "Portrait of a Mackerel Resting" is a masterpiece, not to mention, "Mixed Grill at Twilight."-- a thought provoking work which takes some daring risks in its use of color and medium (I believe that the addition of anchovy paste to the paint is truly innovative and will start a trend.) Anyway....they are delighted and they'll be eagerly awaiting word of the critics and gallery-goers response."

And that's the scoop (about poop) - dog-it-all, doggerel from the straight from the cat's mouth.