You need good friends...

I went to High School (sometimes) with my friend Mark Waldman. He and I and a small group of others were the Punks at Redondo High. It was the early 80's and hardcore was getting started and we loved it. Mark often had his skateboard, a boom box with a cassette that had Social Unrest on one side and the debut of Suicidal Tendencies on the other and usually a pack of smokes he always shared with me. He was dependable, very loyal and we both were on the Road to Ruin. Years passed and I was headed away from the road I was on. On the way out I saw Mark on a friends couch and wondered if he would ever make it off that road alive. More time went by and I left my once sleepy beach town that had become a yuppie haven for the cozy new home of San Pedro (which now is in danger of becoming a high rent area too.) I worked as an Illustrator for a few companies and met my wife and settled down. I had a few art shows locally now and then and was still part of the punk community (and still am). I did not know Mark had found his way to an art career and had taught art too and after many years my former boss was showing at The Gasoline Gallery with some of the artists I was inspired by, so I went to El Segundo to check it out. I met the owner and guess who it was? Yep, Mark Waldman. Some of our old friends were working for him too. We had both found new paths and were fine tuning our lives. He was about to become a dad (twice) and was now sober as was I. We had talks about getting older and our health. We still had the same bond after all this time. He welcome myself and many others and gave us the opportunity to show at a legit art gallery. It was a blast. He often closed down Main street and lined it with custom cars and motorcycles and all the punks and outsiders you could handle every sunny summer beach city weekend, cranked up the tunes and made sure those who still drank had a cold beer. The party lasted almost 10 years. Many of us found fame and recognition for our art. Mark gave us a soap box to let out our sorrows, but his world in the end was getting out of control, but this time it was just the kind of life troubles that find us now and then. He got the wind knocked out of his sails of a bit, but he held strong and became the great dad he is now. He is dedicated to his two sons Ford and Cole. He had the number 3 tattooed for them to remember that no one can take their bond away. For the last show at Gasoline I had done a real personal painting for the show and did not want to sell it so I put a real high price on it. I left it in Mark's care for a few months. Gasoline had closed and Mark had formed Sweatbox, his new company for his return to art. I had started my own shop too (Aicher's Pop Kustom Shoppe at Crafted, San Pedro, CA) and we both have found that even though the road may change we still have a bond. So I went over to see his new studio space at his home and saw his new Grenade Heart limited editions and it struck and emotional chord. We both could have had heart attacks from our bad health at any given time. This piece really had me thinking of how fragile and great the journey of life is and the power and pain of love. This story is proof that the past will find you. I traded with Mark my emotionally personal painting for one of his hearts and I hope I will never take for granted the things he gave me and helped me live through. Here's to our new paths. Don't let the pin fall out. Find out more about Mark here: http://pinsta.me/sweatboxstudios