Ok so all that intentional work paid off. Every morning for three months, after doing my meditation, I would sit and speak with my dad (who left this earthly plain a few years ago). I thank him for everything I have (I say thank you, thank me, thank us, thank we) - for my health and my creativity, my home and my friends, my family and my livelihood. Then I ask for help. I say “Hey - y’know - I could really use a place to paint. I have been painting in my apartment since I lost the Crane Street spot and its all cute in a nostalgic sorta way - memories of the olden days when I had nowhere else to run… but I’m kinda over it at this point. So hows about hookin your old pal ME up with a new space?”
I still do this every day. Thats how I get what I want in my life. I ask for it. I believe I can have it. Then I let it go knowing that I will be ok no matter if I get it or not. If I do fully let go then I get what I want. If I get hung up on needing what I ask for - I get nada. Thats the way it works. You can have anything you want as long as you don’t “need” it. And you have to be coming from a good place. Where am I coming from? I want to spread beauty and consciousness around the world. I figure there are worse things I could be doing with my time. (We won’t get into my past…)

So - out of the blue (from whence I had asked actually) comes this beautiful, amazing, huge and delicious studio space. Bing! Just like that. Thanks papa. Thank you. Thank me. Thank us. Thank we.

So I’m in heaven. I go there as much as I can. I’m well aware that - as with every space in a town like NYC - I can be out on my ass tomorrow. That is the best part. You don’t take it for granted! You don’t get attached. You keep a healthy sense of presence and appreciation for the moment and for your current blessings. Things change all the time. I know how to roll with the tide. I love change. I am change. I fear no change for I fear not that which I am.

An old pal - a writer named Tim Hall - dropped by today. We sat and shot the shingles and I asked him if he’d like a new portrait to add to his budding Zito museum of a home in rural Illinois. He said he thought he would so I sat him down in some nice light near one of the huge 10 foot tall windows in my unbelievable new studio and banged out a quick portrait in acrylic on plywood of my witty old pal.

The first series I completed in my new studio was a group of 4 paintings on glass for Two Boots Restaurant on Avenue A in the East Village. I painted Mr. Pink from Reservoir Dogs, The Dude from Big Lebowski, Charlie Parker and Big Maybelle - four of the cultural icons after which they have named their slices. Here is a shot of the paintings after I installed them… you have to see em in person to really appreciate them. Go have a slice of Mr. Pink and gaze upon his creepy visage as you do…

I went to my mom’s new house on Easter Sunday - not because we are good catholics or even because we like jellybeans but because my family has always gotten together on at least 3 days every year - Easter, Thanksgiving and X-mas. It was nice to see her all nested into her new little house. She loves it. My bro was there with his wife and SIX kids! My sis was there with her hubby and three kids. I took this shot of her daughter - my niece Alexa. She was just about to shoot a rocket out of a slingshot that I was holding…

And here’s a shot of my super-star nephew, Johnny, with the deer skull he found in my mom’s back yard. It was an odd find to be sure - really beautiful though - and no one of us would have found it than our own gothic punk - Johnny.

Everybody’s looking for studio space. Its become like a refrain with the artists I know.
“Hey, How ya doin?”
“I’m ok. I’m looking for a new studio. Know of anything?”
“No. I’m lookin for one, too.”
Every opening I go to, I hear the same thing over and over. And I’m one of them.
My roommate left town for 4 days last night. With nowhere else to paint since I fell out of the Crane Street spot, I’ve been painting in my bedroom. And that makes you feel like you’re living all over yourself. So when she left I moved out into the living room. Feels like the old days when this little LES crib was all mine and I did whatever I wanted all the time. I painted until 3 in the morning then woke up at nine and got right back to the brushes. What a feeling! You can’t do that when you have to get dressed, go out, get on a train, go up the stairs, turn the key, drop your bag, take off yer coat - cuz by the time you’ve done all that you just want to sit and stare. Here I wake from my dreamlife - the sizzling essence of my alternate reality still ripe fruit heavy on the bows of my morning - and without a debilitating series of decisions and processes I step to the easel and just play.

And some of my friends are doing the same thing. Here’s Nicole Laemmle (my best pal) working at home.


There are studio spaces I’m looking into and I know I’ll score something great because I’ve been putting a lot of intentional energy in that direction. But I’ve got half a mind to ask my friend and roommate to kindly pack her bags so I can get to work for real!
Here’s a few shots from the recent opening at Jonathan Shorr Gallery in Soho where I debuted a few pieces from my “Venus series”. I also did some live painting there in the gallery on found objects. I painted 3 pieces that night - valentines Day 2008 - one I kept, one I sold and one I gave away.



And here’s me driving my pumpkin around town. she’s my new girlfriend. She is not fat! She’s big boned.

So here it is - 2008. A new number if you believe in the Gregorian calendar - and I don’t know if I do or I don’t but I do know its the one we need to use if we want to get along in this society at this moment in this place. Either way its a new day - that much I know - and I can agree its the start of a new year (why not). The numerologists are saying this is a “1″ year - the start of a new 9-year cycle - since 2+0+0+8=10 and 1+0=1. So regardless of how its dissected - this is a new beginning.

My friend Roman and I decided we would do something symbolic and meaningful this New Year’s Eve so we split from the hooting and hollering of the crazed revelers on the New York streets and hit the snowy road to the Berkshires in Massachusetts. We arrived well after nightfall to a dark and snowbound cabin deep in the Northeastern wilderness. A large TP off to the side glowed with the orange of the fire within. We were really out in the middle of nowhere. A small part of me longed for the madness of the Manhattan New Years parties but a deeper truer part of me felt secure that we had made a smart decision.
We walked up to the tiny little house where a few people were hanging around and we met the friend of Roman’s who would be leading the evening’s ceremony. He was an elder of the Navajo tribe and the night would be spent in a TP celebrating a prayer for his 4-yr old grandson. Before the ceremony began someone shouted and pointed up to the sky where we saw a giant comet streaking across the sky leaving a long glowing green tail behind it. A beautiful event to behold, it seemed like a good omen - a New Years blessing.

We helped by gathering wood out of the snow and bringing it into the TP - a much larger structure than I had envisioned it would be. The simple geometry and ancient innovation of it struck me as so incredible and powerful. Eventually the smoke flaps were secured in place and the fire started as we all took our seats around it.

The chief spoke a bit about the intention of this evening’s prayer and thanked us all for coming to give blessing to his grandson. He also thanked us for coming for ourselves and for all people everywhere. He rolled several tobaccos in corn husks and passed them to each of us individually. I wasn’t so crazy about smoking it but I gave it a try. The bulk of the tobacco had fallen out of mine and I kinda knew it wasn’t gonna light. They passed me the lighting stick from the fire and as I put the tobacco to the ember on the end I just knew it wasn’t gonna light. I sucked a ton of wood smoke into my lungs trying in vain to light the damn thing but it just wouldn’t. The chief grew a little impatient with me and asked someone else to light it. They tried and handed it to me half lit - but as soon as they handed it to me it went out again. The chief told someone to give me a bic lighter and I tried lighting it again. “Its not a cigarette,” he said “its a prayer.” Prayer or not I was smoked out from the thick air in the TP and from sucking on that damn smoking ember. I began to grow frustrated with the whole scene. The peyote we had taken was not as strong as I’d hoped it would be and I felt as though I was being singled out as the stupid white man. I was tired and full of smoke and seeing a long long night ahead of us, I started to feel very resistant to the whole scene.

“What if I just left?” I thought. “I could just go up to the house and go to sleep - I’m already the embarrassment of the ceremony so what have I got to lose?” I wondered how long before I could just roll over and go to sleep. “Here I am,” I thought, “in the first few moments of 2008 and I’m taking orders from someone I don’t even know. I’m tired and thirsty and I just want to relax - but here I am committed to this situation for the next several hours.” My brain started to go into deep resistance. I didn’t want to be there and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I could tell that the resistant energy I held could be felt by others in the ceremony and I hated to be such a grump. But one thing was for sure - its what I was feeling and it was real. I wondered why the universe would put me in this situation on such a significant day. What was I meant to learn here? Was it simply that things don’t always work out the way I want them to and sometimes I just have to deal with what is happening? Well, that was for sure. But what was the deeper lesson here?

I stared into the fire and observed the way I was feeling. I recognized the hurt I felt in being singled out for not being able to light the tobacco. I knew I had sort of insulted the family by not smoking it but I didn’t want to smoke it and it would not light anyways! But this was not the time to make excuses or explanations to anyone. This was a time to sit and quietly commune with the cosmos and in doing so sort out the BS in my mind. As I stared deep into the embers I felt the attachment to this hurt and resistance begin to fade. The chief said a few kind words to me, sensing that I needed a little help in letting go. His apologetic effort eased my mind, as I again felt accepted into his circle and began to see the resistance I was experiencing for what it was. I soon recognized that this resistance was part of me and part of the way I sometimes need to experience and process things. I gave thanks to these feelings for leading me into the deeper openness that I now began to experience.

During the ceremony we asked permission to step out of the TP for a moment and we saw the land that we had approached shrouded in darkness now illuminated by the bright pink and orange sunrise. All around in every direction stretched miles and miles of snow-covered acreage. Our friend lived there on 85 acres and had an incredible view of three lakes and several mountains. It was breath-taking and incredibly inspiring.

Back in the TP, the chief handed out a little more peyote and we all drank peyote tea. His son, a beautiful Navajo man with long black hair and a round proud indigenous face, went from person to person around the fire with his water-drum and the singing staff. Everyone sang beautiful native songs that resonated deep in my soul. I thought of my father - how much he worshiped and respected the native peoples and how he would have loved to have been there with us. And I knew he was there.

I could feel the fog of my resistance lifting completely and beneath it I discovered an clearing of open space - of understanding and peace. From there we went on to have a beautiful night full of incredible songs and discussions and personal revelations. As the ceremony drew to a close with the bright pink sunrise shining through the open door of the TP, casting a vibrant glow around the chief, the women brought in the food to be blessed. Bowls of corn, berries and venison were passed around. I ate from the first two and respectfully passed on the meat. I knew that in the deep space I now inhabited it would be impossible for me to eat the flesh of an animal and I wondered how others could. Roman told me when he took his first bite of meat he almost got sick.

The ceremony closed with everyone adjourning back to the house for a full meal. The sun was fully up and none of us had slept a wink.
We hung around a few more hours and talked and I had a chance to play with the beautiful little grandson for a while. The snow was really starting to come down so we decided to split before it got too thick to go anywhere.
We said our goodbyes and thanked everyone for an amazing evening.

Out at the truck I noticed my rear tire was a little flat. On closer inspection I found it was completely flat. This might have bothered me in the past but today it just made me laugh. What a gift the cosmos had bestowed upon me this New Years Day! A flat tire in a foot of fresh snow in the midst of a growing blizzard. I didn’t care. I knew the snow was soft enough that it wouldn’t hurt the rim too much to ride on it for a while so we warmed her up and got going. The jokes just seemed to keep coming as we crawled ever so slowly down impossibly steep hills of unplowed roads - completely covered in deep snow. I laughed even harder as I remembered that I had no brake lights, running lights or signals - a little problem I hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. We drove at about 11 miles an hour for what seemed like years - awestruck by the New England winter wonderland that surrounded us… on all sides, vast landscapes spread with trees covered in snow that blasted horizontally in the wind.

Roman had to take a pee so I pulled over in the middle of the bright white no-where and let him out. As he stood there out in the snow I laughed myself into a stupor at the idea of leaving him there peeing in the middle of a blizzard and couldn’t resist driving away just to freak him out. The look on his face sent mad peals of laughter through me and I collapsed over the wheel as painful pangs of silliness spiked through me and tears of hilarity gushed down my face. As I pulled back up, he snickered at the joy I found at his expense.

“You know,” he said “it felt so good to pee that I wasn’t gonna stop even if you left. I thought, I’ll just have to walk a few miles but it will be worth it.” We continued on our journey laughing our asses off, getting lost in the white roads between nameless white fields and screaming with disbelief at sights along the way like the old decrepit tree that looked exactly like a giant eagle and a road sign that pointed to a place named Peru. Lit up by the beautiful ceremony we had just left and a little giddy from the traces of peyote and the lack of sleep, we continued on laughing and driving until we finally reached the town of Northampton where we would find a cup of tea and a dry place to change the tire.

The most fun I’ve ever had on New Years Day that I can remember. And this with a flat tire in a snow storm!

Its actually starting to feel like November out there but I wouldn’t know since I spent the whole day inside working on my computer. My friend and I are re-designing my website and its a truckload of work. Who knew being an artist meant spending the whole day poking at a keyboard? Not eye.

Well the thing is I have a ton of new work in a billion new styles and media and I need to get get it out to the world or it will just rot away festering in the corner. And art doesn’t like to fester in private - it prefers to do its festering in public. Kind of like an extroverted Uncle Fester, if you won’t. Which brings up a point I spent the better part of an otherwise wonderful evening arguing with a bunch of friends… and that is that the ultimate goal and highest purpose of art is communication. The counter to my point was that its quite often that art simply serves the growth of the artist. In my mind art is a catalyst of change and for real change to come about - its true - it starts within. But once a work of art is made and the artist has learned its initial lessons - what then? Put it on a shelf? No! It has to get out into the world for people to see and talk about! Art is communication and in my world, if a piece of art fails to communicate or if it communicates something just too personal that it has to be squirreled away - then its pretty much a failure and in most cases should either be abandoned or reworked.

Is every piece I’ve ever made meant to be seen? No. But the best ones are. And even the really decent ones, and the not-half-bad ones. And the ones I don’t show are pretty much failures. Maybe I’ll rework them someday to the point where they can be shown. What a crime it would be if we never saw the Pieta or Guernica or Madonna of the Rocks. We would never know what we had missed, right? Just like if the inventor of the wheel or the telephone kept that to himself. But all these products of the creative process were NOT kept locked away - they were shared - in fact, passionately so - and they contributed to the progress (or detriment) of humanity.

So lets share what we make - even if it means hanging paintings on a wall that doesn’t belong to you (like I used to do on Ludlow Street) or spending they whole day pushing buttons. Lets all do what we have to do with the gifts we were given - to help open the awareness of other beings and to eventually change the aggressive and greedy energy - that focuses on controlling the masses - to one of peace and understanding. My life would be less colorful if I’d never heard the song “What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace, Love and Understanding” by Elvis Costello. And he’s right. What is everyone so afraid of? Don’t bitch at each other on the street - Smile! Don’t complain when things go the way you hadn’t wanted them to - Accept it!

Try this - next time you’re walking down the street decide that you love everyone - even the mean lookin ones - and smile at them and say hello to them. Then take that energy and infuse it into your songs, paintings, marketing plans, speeches, films and laundry baskets. Thats how we are changing the world.

Well, its been a battle - working thru my life trying to get all the ducks in a row and the eggs in their baskets… one thing at a time, I always say. Between working on my book, caring for the house 2 hours away while living off the sale of paintings and managing two rents here in the city, along with myriad other projects - I’ve hardly had time to think about all the other items that need tending to surrounding the main projects - like BLOGS. blog, blog, blog.

(always makes me think of the Ren and Stimpy commercial for LOG… “its Log! its Log! its big, its heavy, its wood… its Log! its Log! its better than bad its good! Go out and get your Log! Your gonna love it - Log! Everyone wants a Log!” pure genius.)

BUT - I digress. I think the point was that I’ve been wanting to have a bLOG for quite a while now. I’m a wordy chap at times - I’ve got millions of weird ideas zooming through my head and I’ve got to get them out to make room for more new information to come in. We’re always receiving information from the universe (our collective self) and by expressing ourselves creatively - thru visual art or music or racecar driving (with biofuels of course) or LOG rolling - we clear space in our mind for newer bigger better ideas. As conscious beings we are some of the universe’s idea processing systems. We are manifestation machines. We are tapping into an endless field of potential from which we pluck ideas and bring them into being in the material world. For instance - this screen you’re looking at… where did it begin? As an idea. As a thought. Every single thing created by the hands of humanity began as a simple thought.

Am I doing this right? Am I supposed to be indulging in quasi-philosophical musings on the root of manifestation? Shouldn’t I be writing about cute girls I want to tickle or my latest career conquest? Who reads this crap anyways? Its all rather new to me so if there are any bLOGologists out there who can point me in the right direction - I welcome your input.

Whats new? Well, I’m doing this super-fun stint at GalleryBar (one word, dammit!) and I’m having a blast! These fine young fellas - Darin, Josh and Derrik - who run this place at 120 Orchard St NYC, called me right when my gallery on Ludlow was closing and asked me if I would hang some work for a ’soft opening’ they were having before their first show of work by Kevin Berlin. I sussed out the situation - I’m quite honestly never very thrilled to show in bars - but I quickly realized this was a different kind of place than the usual dives I’d had work stolen from and damaged in before. I decided to make a show of solidarity and introduce these guys to a selection of neighborhood artists by hanging a group show by some of my pals. I brought in work by Carlucci, Joe Heaps, Primitivo, Goldmine Shithouse and myself and there was a mellow little opening. I hung my portrait of David Bowie on a gold-framed mirror and the guys at GalleryBar decided they wanted it to stay - so they bought it. It now hangs in their downstairs lounge as a permanent installation.

So of course, the next thing I wanted to know was - “when’s my show?” We peeped the calendar and made a date for May 24. After meeting Tracey, their publicist, I decided I would create some kind of event that she could put out there to promote the exhibition. I thought it would be fun to try and set a world record for the most consecutive portraits painted from live models in 24 hours. I contacted Guinness Book of World Records and made an inquiry. It came back that they don’t do ‘art’ when it comes to world records, plus their application process takes months and it ain’t cheap. So I decided to go with a sort of unofficial world record. I was just gonna stay up a long time and paint alot. We put word out that I was going to attempt to paint 100 portraits in 24 hours. Part of my press release included the fact that I would be donating a portion of the $100 suggested donation for each watercolor portrait to help fund the completion of a film called “Raw for 30 Days”. Its a documentary about treating (curing) diabetes nutritionally. Dr. Gabriel Cousens and his crew of raw foodies down at The Tree of Life Cafe in Arizona took six Type 2 diabetics dependent on intravenous insulin and effectively cleansed their bodies of diabetes in 30 days with a raw food diet. So being a raw foodist myself for the past 2 years, I decided that this was an important film to support. More people need to know that they can cure themselves nutritionally instead of becoming dependent on medieval treatments dished out by typical western doctors (most of whom are basically drug dealers for the pharmaceutical industry). Check out their website - www.rawfor30days.com

(I’ve got a lot to say here don’t I? Sorry, making up for lost time.)

So I did it. I stayed up for 40 hours and in the first 24 I painted 108 watercolor portraits. It was crazy and fun and by the time I was done I was seeing visions and giggling like and eighth grade pothead. After getting a good nights sleep on the couch in the gallery, I woke up and decided to keep going. The paintings were starting to add up. I began covering the walls with this growing installation of small paintings that came to surround the larger pieces like wallpaper. Heres a shot of the place about a week into it with watercolors engulfing Syd Barrett and Oscar Wilde…

So now I’m there 5 days a week (wed-sun) waking up on their couch and beginning work around 4pm and keeping on till they close at around 4am. Its the closest thing to a full-time job that I’ve had in a decade. Only difference is now I’m doing what I love, making some decent cash and giving to a good cause - all the while having fun, meeting interesting people and making art! The pieces go up on the wall and then on Wed June 27 from 7-midnight we are having a closing reception when all those portrayed can come and pluck their face from the wall and take it home with them.

I’m there till the 27th - come and be painted - it only takes about 10 minutes - and make a donation to two good causes; me and this amazing film that will change the way people think about disease.

Did I mention the new paintings? They are mostly pretty large canvases (not found objects?!) painted in a new style that I call Visionary Expressionism. I use hi-gloss enamel to portray certain heroes of spirit and culture and I immerse them in an eye-candy swirl of maddening color. I think Its my best work ever and I hope everyone else loves it as much as I do.

ciao ~ Zito