ART ICON JACKSON POLLOCK | THE LEGENDARY AND MISUNDERSTOOD PAINTER ALSO KNOWN AS "JACK THE DRIPPER"

Painter Jackson Pollock (seated R) sitting on the steps of painter Thomas Hart Benton's summer home w. Rita Benton (sitting, in white hat) and author Coburn Gilman (standing). Martha's Vineyard, ca. 1937.

THE ORIGINAL POST ON JACKSON POLLOCK, DONE WITHIN THE FIRST WEEK OF THESELVEDGEYARD's INCEPTION, CONTINUES TO BE ONE OF TSY's TOP POSTS EVER. I THINK IT SPEAKS VOLUMES ABOUT POLLOCK'S RELEVANCE, TIMELESSNESS, AND MYSTIQUE. OBVIOUSLY THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MAN AND HIS LEGENDARY WORK THAT KEEPS PEOPLE COMING BACK DAY AFTER DAY, YEARS AFTER HIS PASSING.

Artist Jackson Pollock painting in his Springs, NY studio, ca. 1949.

ART ICON JACKSON POLLOCK WAS A MAJOR FORCE IN THE ABSTRACT EXPRESSIONISM MOVEMENT, AND KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE ART WORLD AS A DARK AND MOODY MAVERICK. HE WAS UNDENIABLY AN OBSESSED AND INNOVATIVE GENIUS, AND MUCH MORE. POLLOCK'S TECHNIQUE HAS BEEN CAREFULLY STUDIED OVER THE YEARS, AND IT'S THOUGHT BY MANY THAT SOME OF HIS WORKS CONTAIN PROPERTIES SPECIFIC TO MATHEMATIC FRACTALS, AND THAT THE WORKS AS A WHOLE BECOME MORE FRACTAL-LIKE CHRONOLOGICALLY. SOME EVEN GO SO FAR AS TO SPECULATE THAT POLLOCK MAY HAVE BEEN AWARE OF THE NATURE OF CHAOTIC MOTION, AND THROUGH HIS PAINTINGS WAS CREATING WHAT HE PERCEIVED AS PERFECT REPRESENTATIONS OF MATHEMATICAL CHAOS -- AND ALL THIS MORE THAN 10 YEARS BEFORE CHAOS THEORY WAS DISCOVERED. SO I ASK YOU -- IS IT ARTISTIC INSPIRATION, MATHEMATICAL GENIUS, RANDOM DRIPPINGS, OR ALL OF THE ABOVE?

Jackson Pollock's "One: Number 31", painted 1950.

CLICK HERE TO SEE AN AMAZING OLD FILM ON THE ARTIST, STARRING AND NARRATED BY NONE OTHER THAN JACKSON POLLOCK HIMSELF. WATCHING THE FILM, IT STRUCK ME THROUGH HIS STIFF VOICE AND PHRASING THAT THIS WAS DEFINITELY A SOCIALLY AWKWARD MAN, WHO FELT MORE COMFORTABLE IN HIS ART THAN AROUND PEOPLE. ALL THE TALES AND ACCOUNTS THAT SURROUND HIS LIFE, AND THE AMAZING PORTRAYAL IN FILM BY ED HARRIS, DEFINITELY SUPPORT THIS AS WELL.

Painter Jackson Pollock, master of chaos, in his Springs, NY studio.

SADLY IN 1955, THE WORLD LOST A LEGEND. AFTER A LONG AND TUMULTUOUS STRUGGLE WITH ALCOHOLISM, EVER DEEPENED BY THE PRESSURES OF FAME AND HIS AUDIENCE'S EXPECTATIONS, POLLOCK CRASHED HIS CAR LESS THAN A MILE FROM HIS EAST HAMPTON HOME AND WAS KILLED. HIS INFLUENCE LIVES ON TODAY IN ANOTHER WAY, AS HE WAS NOT JUST A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION FOR PAINTERS, ARTISTS AND MUSICIANS WHO EMULATE HIS STYLE -- BUT ALSO THE COUNTLESS FASHION DESIGNERS AND VINTAGE CLOTHING NUTS WHO FOR YEARS HAVE CAREFULLY STUDIED OLD PHOTOS OF POLLOCK. THEY SCRUTINIZE EVERY DETAIL OF HIS WORN & SPLATTERED DENIM AND WORKWEAR -- AN INSPIRATION AND LEGACY THAT EVEN JACKSON POLLOCK HIMSELF CERTAINLY NEVER IMAGINED HE'D HAVE.

Painter Jackson Pollock, also a huge inspiration to men's workwear designers, in his Springs, East Hampton, NY studio.

Jackson Pollock in his Springs, NY painting studio, ca. 1949.

Jackson Pollock with a Long Island neighbor, amateur artist Mary Monteverdi, looking over her works, ca. 1949.

Painter Jackson Pollock, and wife Lee Krasner, talking with a guest at their East Hampton home, ca. 1949.

Husband & wife artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner walking outside on Long Island with their dog, ca. 1949.

Group portrait of American Abstract Expressionists, "The Irascibles." From left, rear: Willem de Kooning, Adolph Gottleib, Ad Reinhardt, Hedda Sterne;(next row) Richard Pousette-Dart, William Baziotes, Jimmy Ernst (w. bow tie), Jackson Pollock (in striped jacket), James Brooks, Clyfford Still (leaning on knee), Robert Motherwell, Bradley Walker Tomlin; (in foreground) Theodoros Stamos (on bench), Barnett Newman (on stool), Mark Rothko (with glasses), NY, NY, ca. 1950.

MAD MAX BUBECK & HIS INDIAN CHOUT | HELL ON HYBRID WHEELS

Max Bubeck (below) sitting on his 135.58mph hybrid Indian Chief/Scout that he rode at Rosamond Dry Lake on June 27th, 1948. The Pop Shunk-built "Chout" is as lean and mean as a straight razor except for two big-assed carburetors that look big enough to pluck poultry. Bubeck's "Chout" still holds the record for the world's fastest unfaired Indian motorcycle.

“Mad Max” Bubeck made a name for himself dominating the enduro scene from the 1930s to the 1970s. Bubeck was also a speed racer & builder who in June of 1948 rode his Indian “Chout” (an Indian Chief 80 c.i. engine jammed into the smaller & lighter Scout frame) to a record speed of 135.58 mph on the Rosamond Dry Lake north of Los Angeles. It’s a record that still stands for an unstreamlined, normally aspirated 80 cubic inch displacement Indian motorycle. After retiring from competition in the late-1970s, Bubeck continued to be active in motorcycling, doing everything from restoring classic Indian motorcycles to sponsoring antique motorcycle meetings.

One of Bubeck’s most popular wins came in 1950 aboard the new Indian Warrior. That year, he won the Cactus Derby, a long-distance desert race and mountain race originated in Riverside, California. The race was unique in that it started at midnight. That year, Bubeck’s bike lost its lighting barely an hour into the race. He managed to continue by riding with other riders and using their lights. A few times he lost touch with the other riders and rode in complete darkness. In that same event, a long, slow-moving freight train was blocking a crossing. Bubeck sped ahead of the train and crossed the tracks so as to not lose too much time. Despite the darkness, the trains and riding a supposedly uncompetitive bike, Bubeck still managed to win the event. It went down as one of the most memorable victories in his career.

Being born in the LA area was a very fortunate happening for me. By 1933 at age 15, I already had my first motorcycle, a 1930 101 Scout. It wasn’t long before I got acquainted with the local “hounds,” as we were known then, and every week end we would be off to some event, usually a TT race, field event, or beer bust.

One of the favorite spots was about 15 miles east of LA at Sam Parriots’ in Puente Ranch. The LA 45 Club put on steak feeds and field meets at least twice a year and one of the big attractions was a straight, blacktop road that ran for a mile, then made a dogleg turn to the right, then left and up a hill. This was known as the Puente Strip.

By 1937, we would convene our motorcycles in “drag outs” or speed runs at least once a month on early Saturday mornings before there was any traffic. By 1939, Frank Christian had built an electric-eye timing clock so we could get accurate times. This was a great help to the local racers and speed-trialers to check their machines for performance. It was in October of 1941 and I left home early Saturday morning on my ‘39 Indian Four, headed for Puente. The route was east on Valley Blvd to Fifth Street, in Puente, a right turn across some railroad tracks, then a left turn onto the strip.

As I came around the corner at about 30mph, I saw three machines just starting on a run. The one on the left was Ed Kretz on his #38 Sport Scout race bike, and the others were a couple of Harleys. I thought, why not see if I could catch them, so I pulled the Four back into second gear and got on it. I was gaining on all three, and soon passed the Harleys but Kretz was still ahead. I was slightly to the left of him and my front wheel was along side his rear wheel, both of us still in second at 75mph. Ed looked over his right shoulder, saw the Harleys behind him, snapped into high gear and laid down on the Scout. I did the same on my Four and the Scout started to pull away at 90mph. So I edged into his draft about three feet behind and managed to stay there at over 100mph. The immediate reaction after clearing the timing traps was to sit up and get on the brakes because that dogleg was pretty sharp at that speed.

So Kretz did the usual and turned around to see how far ahead he was of the Harleys. I still laugh when I think of the look on his face when he saw me three feet behind him! His eyes bugged out and almost pushed his goggles off! As we slowed, I came alongside of him and he said, :Where did you come from?” I said, “I was there all the time.” My speedometer stop-hand read 114mph and when we got back to the timer, we found out we had hit 112.50mph.

I later took the Four through at 108.43mph, without the benefit of the draft—this was just as I rode it on the streets—headlights, fenders, saddlebags, the works. Sam Parriot tried to talk me into talking off the extra garbage and trying again, but I was happy with that speed. Remember—this was 1941, when few machines would clock an honest 100mph.

Kretz asked me to take his Scout through and see what I could get out of it, as I was about 40 pounds lighter. It clocked exactly 112.50mph with me on it, too. This was the week before the big 200 mile race at Oakland. Kretz had the best qualifying time at 94mph on the very rough one mile track, paved with a low bank on the turns. Kretz, of course, had the pole and at the end of the first lap had a 200 foot lead, which kept increasing every lap until he lapped the second-place rider on the 32nd lap.

Soon after that, there was a very bad accident in the south turn, which resulted in two deaths and several others taken out of the race. How Ed didn’t go down is a miracle of some sort. Movies taken of the accident make you shake your head in wonder that Kretz didn’t end up in the pile of motorcycles sliding into the fence. Later, when asked how he got through, Ed said he closed his eyes and held on. Anyway, Ed managed to get through the mess without going down and lead until the 117th lap, when his front chain broke and put him out of the race. Front chains weren’t supposed to break on Indians with the oil bath but his did. I guess Indian must’ve gotten a batch of bad chains, improperly heat-treated.

Those were great days! As well as riding my ‘39 Four on the streets and on trips, I also rode the Four in cross-country events like the Greenhorn 500-miler. I had the privilege of travelling with Ed Kretz, and sometimes Jimmy Kelly another good Indian rider. We usually piled into the car late on Saturday, and drove long, hard, and late at night to make some Sunday racemeet at some distance from LA. Many were the pranks and jokes. The world was our playground and we would never grow old.

–Max Bubeck as told to Jerry Hatfield in 2000.

ROGUES, SAILORS & ANCIENT MARINERS | A HISTORICAL VIEW OF NAUTICAL TATTOOS

In the early 19th century, as more and more sailors returned from distant lands, tattooing had become highly popular in the British Navy. It spread even to the British admiralty, which has for a long time included certain royals who obtained rank. Field Marshal Earl Roberts is rumored to have expressed the opinion that “every officer in the British army should be tattooed with his regimental crest.” It not only boosted morale among the ranks, but it proved useful when identifying casualties. The Prince of Wales was tattooed with a Jerusalem Cross after visiting the Holy Land in 1862. Then, his sons, the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of York (later King George V) were tattooed by the Japanese master tattooist, Hori Chiyo.

Although much of maritime tattooing took place on board ship, sailor to sailor– the craze spawned an industry of tattoo parlors in port cities in Britain and the United States, and indeed, around the world. Many of the proprietors of early tattoo shops were sailors who had come ashore. Famed British tattoo artist George Burchett learned his craft with an early stint in the service. By the end of the 19th century, it was estimated that ninety percent of British and American sailors had tattoos, according to some sources.

The anchor remains the favorite tattoo of sailors, and is still one of the most popular designs worldwide– usually placed on the upper arm, just like Popeye. Tattoos of a sailor’s ship were like a badge of honor that proudly displayed his feelings of patriotism and comradery. Roosters tattooed on the foot were a common motif in the early days– they acted as charms to protect against drowning. And of course, Images of naked women were a major hit too– that is until the brass issued their ‘obscene’ warning. After that, naval applicants could have their hopes dashed by showing up with too much ’skin’ on their skin. Tattoo artists did a booming business covering the scantily-clad hula girls with grass skirts.

NORMAN COLLINS | LEGENDARY TATTOOIST & CLASS-A PIRATE AKA SAILOR JERRY

If you don't know who Sailor Jerry is- you don't know tattoos. Norman "Sailor Jerry" Collins (1911-1973) is considered the foremost American tattoo artist of his time, and defined the craft in two eras-- BSJ and ASJ (before and after Sailor Jerry). Arguably, he did more for the ancient art of tattooing than most any other single person, and is largely responsible for the tattoo becoming part of living American folk art.

Norman Keith Collins was born in Reno, Nevada. As a child he'd hop freight trains across the country and learned tattooing from a man named Tatts Thomas of the Chicago tattoo scene, and one of the greats in the business.

At age 19, Norman Collins enlisted in the US Navy. It was during his travels at sea that he was exposed to the art and imagery of Southeast Asia. Artistically, his influence stems from his union of the roguish attitude of the American sailor with the mysticism and technical prowess of the Far East. Sailor Jerry maintained a close correspondence with Japanese tattoo masters during his career, and is largely credited with bringing the Asian influence to American tattooing.

Sailor Jerry regarded tattoos as "the ultimate rebellion against the Squares". His legendary sense of humor is oft reflected in his work-- but he was never one to compromise his professionalism or take his craft and responsibilities lightly. Originally there were few colors available to tattoo artists-- Sailor Jerry expanded the array by developing his own safe pigments. He also created needle formations that embedded pigment with much less trauma to the skin, and was one of the first to utilize single-use needles and hospital-quality sterilization.

Norman "Sailor Jerry" Collins remained a sailor his entire life. Even during his career as a tattoo artist, he worked as the licensed skipper of a large three-masted schooner, on which he conducted tours of the Hawaiian islands. Sailing and tattooing were Jerry's only two professional endeavors. On the side, he played saxophone in his own dance band for years. Another outlet was hosting his own ultra conservative, and frequently controversial nighttime talk show on KTRG radio, where he was known as "Old Ironsides". He often lectured against the impending (as he saw it) downfall of the American political system by infiltration of liberals. Jerry was also a prolific writer and carried on in-depth communications with many pen-pals around the world.

Sailor Jerry went out of his way to mentor those tattoo artists whose talents and attitude he respected, among them tattoo legends Don Ed Hardy and Mike Malone, to whom he entrusted his legacy of flash designs. He also railed against flashy tattoo artists such as Lyle Tuttle, and what he called "hippie tattoo" culture. From his 20s to his late 50s, he stopped tattooing entirely as a part of a disagreement with the IRS. Believe it or not, Sailor Jerry only tattooed for approximately 12 years altogether.

Sailor Jerry’s first studio was in Honolulu's Chinatown, then the only place on the island where tattoo studios were located. His work was so widely copied, he had to print "The Original Sailor Jerry" on his business cards. There's a guy up in Canada that goes by the same name, but don't be fooled-- although he's good in his own right, he ain't the original Sailor Jerry.

When Norman "Sailor Jerry" Collins passed away in 1973, he had left specific instructions with his wife about the fate of his tattoo shop- and in turn, his legacy. According to Mike Malone, Jerry said it was to be offered to each of his three protégés: Mike Malone, Don Ed Hardy, or Zeke Owen. If those men didn't heed the call, then the shop and all the master's artwork was to be burnt to ashes- no questions asked.

Fortunately, Mike Malone answered the call. After reaching agreement with Jerry's wife, money changed hands, and Mike purchased Jerry's artwork, flash collection and Smith Street shop, keeping the legacy of Sailor Jerry alive for a whole new generation of roughnecks and adventurers who roamed the wild streets of Honolulu's Chinatown.

Enjoy the sampling of Sailor Jerry's iconic tattoo flash below-