the artist-
voter diary 


by Larry Litt




Outside again, the fear and self-doubt of 

art hit me hard. Why am I doing this voter 

registration drive? Do I believe in the 

American electoral system? Do I love these 

candidates? Do I really believe in 

democracy? Or am I another art world 

networker willing to endure both the 

weather and humiliation for a shot at, 

at...what?


How could I go back to the table in front 

of Ron Feldman's gallery now that I'd been 

rejected by him for the Campaign '96

exhibition? 


"You haven't been rejected," the incredibly 

wise and mature inner guide whispered into 

my puzzled mind, "it's just that your art 

work wasn't right for this show. Be 

positive or you'll lose it right here on 

the street."


"But I am my artwork," I answered with my 

own wisdom and sincerity," it comes out of 

my mind and hands like a child out of the 

womb. If anything, that's who I am."


"Then you better change your mind or you'll 

ruin it thinking about all the rejection 

you have yet to face. Galleries ain't 

maternity wards," she whispered back at me 

with a bit of a hiss.


"You're right, I guess. But I feel it 

anyhow," I whimpered.


"Forget it. You need a double espresso. 

That always perks you up," she advised 

sagely. 


So I closed the table and stashed it in the 

truck. I walked over to Space Untitled 

espresso bar, the Seoul food cafe on Greene 

Street. I bought a double and sat down at a 

wall table to think.


Unable to focus on the future, I looked 

around at the other tables. I spotted a 

woman at the next table furiously drawing 

images from an open New York Times. Being a 

naturally curious person I leaned over to 

get a better peek. I was amazed. She was 

recreating portraits of campaigning 

politicians pictured in the papers. I 

pondered a conversation with her, but 

decided I'd had enough rejection for one 

day. 


Suddenly she turned and noticed me. She had 

a worried look, as if she wasn't doing her 

best work, I thought.


"They look pretty good to me," I ventured 

an opening gambit.


"Yes, of course they're good, but I still 

can't decide."


"What can't you decide? Maybe I can help," 

I said.


"I can't decide who to vote for. You just 

can't trust anything about politics 

anymore. The only thing I trust is myself. 

So I draw the candidates and whichever 

gives me the better image, the better 

feeling, the right flow, that's who 

I vote for."


"That's a very personal decision."


"That's the only kind I can make. I don't 

want to vote for someone who's going to 

disappoint me again. So I vote based on my 

own interpretations, through my drawings."


"Do you always draw the winner?"


"I can't tell you that. I'm sworn to 

secrecy."


"What? Why not?"


"Because my shrink said that pollsters 

would follow me around to discover who I 

voted for, so I shouldn't tell anyone the 

results of the drawings. Instead I sell 

them to magazines as illustrations. That's 

my business."


"So you're really an illustrator?"


"No, I'm a psychic visionary who has to 

make a living as an illustrator," she said.


"Hmmm. Well, thanks for letting me see your 

work. I still say they're very good."


"Goodness doesn't count with me, it's all 

feeling. I want to know what the candidates 

are really like, who they really are. It's 

the only way."


I sat down to finish my now-cold espresso. 

Sitting next to me, I thought, is someone 

who has found a way, her personal way, to 

make decisions, to see through all the hype 

and spin. I have to do the same. But what 

do I really want to know, what would help 

me make the big choice?


How do other people do it? For instance, 

how does Ron Feldman's Campaign '96 know 

which candidates are for the arts and 

freedom of expression? I reached in my 

pocket and pulled out a quarter. I went to 

the telephone next to the restrooms. I got 

Feldman's number from information and 

dialed. A female voice answered, "Ronald 

Feldman Fine Art."


"This is an artist who wants to know how 

Mr. Feldman decides which candidates to 

give money to. I'm in a phone booth so I 

need the answer right away. Is that 

possible?" 


"Just a minute. I'll transfer you."


In a matter of seconds I was talking to 

another female voice. "Can I help you?" 


I repeated my question. 


"We call candidates and ask them."
 

"That's all?"
 

"There's no other way. Except if they're 

incumbents, then there's their voting 

record. It's a public record, anyone can 

get it."


"You mean I can just call and ask if they 

support the arts?"


"Is there anything else I can do for you?" 

she asked in that ready to hang up tone.


"No," I said meekly, "I have to get some 

more quarters. Thanks for the information."


"Anytime."


"Great. By the way, who am I talking to?"


"Anyone who answers will refer you to the 

right person. Good-bye."


Click and she was gone. Now the pieces were 

coming together. All I have to do is call 

the candidates, ask them their position on 

the arts, and if they give me a positive 

answer I'll give them one of my "Artists 

Are Voters, Too" paintings.


Fortunately I had a copy of the League of 

Women Voters government directory for just 

such emergencies. Who's my congressman? 

What's his number? How should I phrase the 

question? I dialed the number of the 

congressman's district office. "Congressman 

N____'s office. Can I help you?"


"Yes. I'm a voter in his district and I'd 

like to ask him a question."


"About what."


"About his position on the arts."


"Please call his Advisor for Culture and 

the Arts at 212-___-____."


"But I want to ask him personally."


"Then send a letter, fax or e-mail and 

we'll send you a reply as soon as possible. 

Thank you."


"But I want to give him something."


"Please include that in the letter, fax or 

e-mail. Thank you."


I could tell she wanted to get off the 

phone as soon as possible. "I will. Thank 

you."


"Will that be all? Have I answered your 

question?"


"Yes."


"Then thank you. I have three calls on 

hold. Good-bye."


"Yes. Good-bye." Click. 


I dial the cultural advisor's number. "This is the voice 

that goes with the number you've dialed. 

Please leave a message and I'll get back to 

you as soon as possible. Make sure it's 

complete with time, date, your name, phone, 

fax and e-mail numbers. Thank you. Oh, and 

wait for the beep, sometimes it's a long 

one."


I waited a mini-eternity meditating on the 

need to memorize one's own communicating 

numbers for all occasions. After the beep I 

told the machine what it wanted to know. 


Suddenly the voice that goes with the 

machine spoke. "I'm sorry, but I have to 

screen all my calls. I'm in the arts too. 

I'm an actress. There are people out there 

trying to do horrible things to me. I have 

a stalker who saw me on a soap last year. 

He's been calling me ever since. Says he 

needs a nurse just like me to help him 

recover from his divorce and prevent his 

suicide. I keep telling him I'm an actress, 

not a nurse. I'm just very convincing." 


"25 cents more for three minutes," a 

mechanical voice said. I dropped another 

quarter in. 


"Anyway, I'm also Congressman N_____'s 

cultural advisor. Can I help you?"


"I want to know what the Congressman has 

done for the arts."


"Everything. He's the leading figure in 

arts causes. He's for funding the NEA and 

NEH. He's the head of the campaigns for 

intellectual freedom and copyright 

revision. He the main fighter against 

censorship," she ended on an upbeat note, 

"is that enough information for you to vote 

for him?"


"It seems to be. But is there a contest? Is 

the other candidate against all the things 

the congressman is for?"


"You'll have to find that out for yourself. 

I have no information on the opposition."


"By the way, I'd like to give the 

congressman a small painting as a gift for 

his support," I said.


"Is it a campaign contribution?" she asked. 


"If it is it has to be reported."


"No, it's a reminder that artist are 

voters, too."


"Does it come with a campaign 

contribution?"


"I hadn't thought about that," I said.


"If it doesn't have a campaign contribution 

you can give it to him after the election. 

Before the election we have to put a price 

on it and report it to the auditors. How 

much is it worth?"


"Well, " I hmmmed, "If you bought it in a 

gallery I'd say $1,000."


"Then it has to be donated by a PAC. Are 

you a PAC?"


"No, I'm an artist trying to discover who 

to vote for."


"Well. Vote for the congressman and give 

him the art afterwards," she said. "Saves 

everybody a lot of trouble."


"Thanks for the advice. Good-bye."


"And tell your friends what the congressman 

has done for the arts. He's the right man 

to vote for. Good-bye."


How could the opposition be any better than 

that? Still, I had to know before I made up 

my mind, that's the American way. Question 

is, who's the opposition?


I was out of quarters. The galleries and 

shops were closing. I left the espresso bar 

and went to my studio. At the downstairs 

landing I opened the mailbox. A bunch of 

stuff fell into my hands. I looked at my 

watch: six p.m. 


In the studio I stared at my little 

painting's boxes and checks. I fantasized 

them in the offices of powerful decision-

makers. Influencing decisions in the Oval 

Office. In the Smithsonian's National 

Gallery. No, anything but that. The 

Hirshhorn, that's better.


In the mail: openings, bills, museum 

calendars and an envelope that said 

OFFICIAL SURVEY ENCLOSED. I always like a 

survey, especially if they give you a few 

bucks for answering questions about which 

television shows you watch. 


Damned or damned lucky, I thought. It was 

from the Christian Voter Mobilization 

Campaign. The first paragraph said "I have 

reason to believe that you are a Christian 

who deeply cares about the future." Major 

error over there at Computers for 

Christianity. 


In the same envelope was a Christian 

Coalition of New York "State & Federal 

Legislative Scorecard." The candidates were 

rated on how they voted on specific issues, 

everything from abortion to balancing the

budget, promoting homosexuality and drugs 

in schools, pornography on the Internet, 

welfare, outcome-based education (whatever 

that is), etc. The candidates were rated 

from 100 to 0. 


I looked for Congressman N_______ on this 

list. He scored 0. He hadn't voted even 

once with the Christian Coalition. I looked 

up Senator D'_________, he scored 73. 

Senator M________ scored, you guessed it: 

0!


I smacked my head with my palm. I got it! 0 

means opposition. This survey is a message 

from whomever it is that creates paradoxes 

and loves to laugh at bizarre human 

politics. Could it be...?



Of course! This voter guide should be read 

like a golf scorecard, ironically the 

official Republican game. Rules say the 

lower the score the better the player. 


After the senators and congresspeople, all 

New York's senators and assemblypeople were 

rated the same way on state issues. This 

was better than I ever could have expected. 

Real advice right from the source.


Now get this! On the back cover of this 

scorecard they ask in huge type: Q. How do 

I know who to vote for in this year's 

elections? 


Guess what? If you want a free copy of this 

neat and easy to read contradiction, the 

Christian Coalition will send you their 

1996 Voter Guide free, free, free. Don't 

let them talk you into a donation. Tell 

them you're a starving artist. Tell them you 

tithed your last penny to the church of the 

immaculate deception. Tell them you have

to pay your online server or you'll be using 

the mails again. Besides, they have more money than 

god, donated by the televangelists 

themselves. 


The number for the Artist-Voter "reverse" 

voter's guide and scorecard (or the 

Christian Coalition's guide to whom not to 

vote for) is 1-800-705-4709. Write it down 

now if you can't figure out how to download 

this story.


And when you call, tell them the 

Artist-Voter Diary from ArtNet sent you...


Be sure to go to the Second Annual

Election Vigil Party at Thread

Waxing Space, 476 Broadway, 2nd floor,

New York, N.Y. 10013, on Nov.5, 1996,

from 8:30 p.m. until the election returns

are in. Featuring refreshments, drinks, music 

and voter registration !

Sponsored by the Artist-Voter Project,

Eleanor Heartney and Larry Litt, 

coordinates; ArtNet Worldwide; and

Thread Waxing Space. For more info

call (212) 966-9774.
 




Larry Litt is a New York-based arts 

activist, writer and performer.