The Watercolors of Alan Andrews

Although I've painted all sorts of different subjects, it became obvious to me that my paintings of New York cityscapes stood apart from the rest. These paintings are bound together not just by the fact that they are cityscapes. They are bound by the fact that in each one of them, I felt free enough to be unconcerned about attaining artistic accuracy. But why New York ?

To answer that I find myself thinking back to my first memories of the city. Drifting back to when I was a small child, still living in Brooklyn. I remember being excited when my father announced at dinner one night that I would accompany him to work in New York City's garment center the following morning.

The D-train stopped at 34th Street, and my father, with a firm grip on hand, led me from the darkness and dreariness of the underground, up to the street. To me it was a street not of buildings, but a maze of shapes and colors. It was as if I left the real world and entered a giant erector set.

Returning home to the flatlands of Brooklyn left me cold and indifferent to my suburban surroundings. And because trips to Manhattan with my father were infrequent, I welcomed any other opportunity to go there. In my early teens I developed a fascination with magic, and if you wanted to learn about, or buy, magic tricks New York City was were to find it. I'd save my money and transport myself to 1540 Broadway, the home of Louis Tannen Magic Supply. Tannen's was the elite amongst magic shops, not only in New York, but throughout the world. I would spend hours (not to mention very little money) Learning tricks, and watching some of the best magicians of the day.

Although my interest in magic did not last, the memories of those trips did. Eventually, music became my passion, seeing every show I could at Howard Stein's Academy of Music on 14th street (later to become the Palladium). I also spent a great deal of time traveling back and forth to 48th Street (known as "the music block") looking in the windows of the musical instrument stores. I'd salivate at, and covet the guitars and drums. During this time I visited Manhattan often, commuting via subway from Brooklyn.

In 1983, I finally moved to the city. I got a tiny railroad flat on the upper eastside. At that time the upper eastside was booming with construction. Now I was not only waking to a maze of shapes and colors, but I was watching them being created. It wasn't until I was working in the photo trade that I first began experimenting with watercolors. Mostly just hand coloring photographs. Soon after, I got my first glimpse at the work of John Marin. His Watercolors led me to the work of other artists like, George Groz, Fairfield Porter, Abraham Walkowitz and many others. It was as though these artists were speaking in a clear and unfiltered voice. They were painting the world and in many cases, New York City.

After moving to the upper westside several years later, I began painting obsessively in the isolation of my apartment.

Then I came across an ad in the local newspaper: "Watercolor Lessons. Call Joseph Hintersteiner." With a healthy dose of New York cynicism, I called the number. "May I speak with Mr. Hintersteiner?" "Speaking" I'm calling about your watercolor classes." "Alright," he said "Be on Dykman Street at 9AM Saturday morning.

As I spoke with him on the phone, I first heard an older man with a European accent. But after a few moments, I realized that I was hearing the same unfiltered voice that spoke so loudly to me in the work of the artists I admired. Joe took me on as a student, for which I will always be grateful. For the paltry sum of five dollars each Saturday we worked together for the next two years in the sun room of a old church on Bainbridge Avenue in the Bronx.

Joe died a few years back. I miss him. He was truly the greatest man I have ever known. If you find yourself near Columbia Presbyterian Hospital You can find a little Street named "Hintersteiner Way". Joe's contribution to his community (Washington Heights) was legendary. The opportunity he gave to local artists to show their work for the first time was his first love. But the fact that he served on every conceivable board and committee makes the word philanthropic seem to small.

So here it is. My New York. As it might be an ought to be. And sometimes is.