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w h a t :: r e m a i n s . . .
After the loss of Artemis, I realized the only way I could ever successfully do a pig project was to buy a house in the country and keep the pigs myself. After trusting people twice with my tattooed pigs, I resolved never to do it again. I realize now that most people simply do not think of pigs the same way I do. It's still difficult for me to understand how the personalities of Artemis and Minnesota did not shine through to the humans who promised to be responsible for them. A photograph of Artemis taken by Mark Green was published as a postcard in 1985 and distributed world-wide for several years by Fotofolio, Inc. in New York. I got a few letters from people about her. Nobody ever seemed upset about the tattoos. Most people just wanted to know where Artemis was now, how big she was, that sort of thing. I always wrote back and said she was a fat, happy pig who lived in Hollywood, thought she was a dog, and had been trained to go get the newspaper every morning.
Hot Dog and Featus lived with me until the late 1980's, when they both died of old age. Each was of indeterminant age when we bought him. Neither had papers, so I think the kennels who originally had them fudged a little about their ages. Hot Dog and Featus are buried underneath a big ash tree in my back yard.
Today I still have mixed feelings about the way things turned out. Obviously, I regret the premature death of both of my pigs. I am grateful to Stanley Marsh for having had the sense of humor to sponsor the tattooed dog projects. My gratitude is tempered, however, by memories of Stanley who often, when discussing either Minnesota or Hot Dog, didn't bother to mention me as the artist.

Besides the article in Sports Illustrated, the most egregious omission was on network television. In 1979, the Today show ran a fairly substantial story on Stanley and his eccentric ways. Part of those eccentricities included Minnesota, who by then was dead and stuffed, and Hot Dog, who was very much alive. In addition, prominently featured were four or five of my drawings, with Stanley narrating over them, explaining my ideas for future dog tattoos. The reporter, in an overdub, referred to me simply as "one man...with a whole lot of plans..." Hmmm. At least they got my gender right.

I never knew in that case whether it was just sloppy journalism or Stanley's deliberate omission of my name. Common courtesy and common sense would suggest that whenever a work of art is mentioned, the name of the artist is also included. It's actually part of of the copyright law as well. I don't believe I should ever have been put in the position of insisting that this courtesy be extended to me when my work was mentioned in the press. More often than not, my objections were ignored. I often felt that the issue of authorship was a problem for Stanley, and I regret our friction over something that didn't have to happen in the first place.

That was years ago, however, and I have forgiven Stanley and all other parties concerned. I welcome the chance here and now to simply state my own chronology and history of these projects. Over the years, the tattooed animals, especially the pigs, have more or less become folkloric or anonymously ubiquitous . That's OK, but I still want people to know the story as I choose to tell it now.

I was happy to have been interviewed about the pigs by Susie Kalil in the Spring, 2000 edition of ArtLies, and that interview prompted me to consider publishing the whole story. It was then that I decided to add this story to my website.

Thank you for visiting,:::


Summer 2002::::::::::::

  
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