Ever notice that…
When a singer drops a new album, it's always the same crap: "More [artist's name] than ever!"
Never fails.
But some artists aren't who you expect them to be.
Take Nick Cave, for example. You never know what to expect from him. His fans love and hate him simultaneously because he's always evolving.
Constantly honest.
He says he loves disappointing his fans.
He's never “more Nick Cave than ever."
He's always Nick Cave being free, unapologetic, unscripted.
And that's cool.
He can be this way not because he's famous. He can be this way because he’s free.
Fame comes because he’s free, not the opposite.
So.
Why am I telling you this? I want to talk about Robert Henri, another very cool guy.
Robert Henri was a painter from the late 19th century, and his book "The Art Spirit," published in 1923, is pure gold for artists.
You might not know who he is or even like his paintings. It doesn't matter.
The thing is, his book feels out of its time…
The Art Spirit is "less Robert Henri than ever."
And why does it matter?
Well, it must have something special to be a sort of bible for artists like Rick Rubin, David Lynch and Julia Cameron.
(Yep, Rubin drinks from Henri)
Maybe it can be your go-to book too, just as it is for Jeremy Mann, as he told me back in 2018.
And what happened in 2018?
At the time I ran an art retreat: Menorca Pulsar. You might be on this mailing list because you've been following me since then (if so, thanks).
I met Nadezda and Jeremy Mann in 2018 when we organized the boot camp that was the seed for Quarantine.
At that workshop, admission was curated, phones were banned in the studio, and for the first time, I wasn't organizing a traditional painting workshop: “less Menorca Pulsar than ever!”
Following that experience, I started designing Quarantine with one condition: I'd only do it if I could host it on a real quarantine island.
And the day came.
I'll tell you the story some other time, it was wild.
We’re here today to talk about something else…
Jeremy brought his copy of "The Art Spirit" with him. He always did; a well-worn, heavily annotated, highlighted, and stained book replete with page markers.
I repeat: it was always on him.
Always, always.
When Jeremy lost his bearings (yep, he gets off-track too), the book came to the rescue. He'd open a random page, and there was the answer.
He said it was his bible, his oracle.
He said everything was in there.
I had read the book before, but it didn't hit me as hard until I re-read it thanks to Jeremy's death threat.
I guess I wasn't ready to read it before.
Then, something clicked.
It's true; everything is in there.
Jeremy is one unique guy.
During the boot camp, he swore he wouldn't do any demos.
He played us.
HERE’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED:
He lied.
He did an extraordinary demo, there’s still paint hanging from the ceiling, and we all got splattered.
What energy.
What volume of music.
What a show-off.
Jeremy doesn't paint. He goes into a trance.
And you know what the bastard told me?
Covered in paint, he said very seriously:
"You can keep this piece, it would sell for $30,000.* Or you can ask me to destroy it. Answer quickly."
*In Spain, the average annual salary is around $20,000.
“Destroy it” - I said.
And then I went and cried off in the corner.
He did give me his paint-splattered shirt though.
I still have it in my studio, and one day, I plan to fund a scholarship with it.
I've never asked him, but I'm 100% sure of this:
If I had kept the piece, we'd never have seen each other again.
Look, I want you to know what kind of people Jeremy is. He wanted to do that boot camp for FREE to keep prices as low as possible.
I didn't think it was fair, so we agreed to halve their pay and the organization's, in exchange for funding five scholarships (a third of the total participants).
That's Jeremy.
So yeah…
Not keeping the piece meant we played in the same league. We spoke the same language.
This affected me; it made me reflect.
After the boot camp, I started to rethink everything: my business, my art…
Wondering if it made sense to continue with what I was doing.
During those crazy days, I secretly wrote in my notebook: “Quarantine, for mad artists only” (a reference to Hesse's Steppenwolf).
And I started dreaming…
And thus, Quarantine was born.
Is it cheesy?
Sounds cheesy as hell, yeah.
But it's REAL, damn i
That was in 2018.
Now, let's talk about the future: 2025.
It took seven long years to fulfill this dream. I've gone bald along the way. So pay attention:
The next edition of Quarantine is based on Robert Henri’s "The Art Spirit." If you haven't read it, save it for after the Quarantine experience.
It'll make more sense.
I want you to know that Jeremy Mann is ready to kick your ass and turn you into a worthy, no-excuses artist.
And Michael Hussar, James McCrae, Nadezda, Sainer, and Martin Wittfooth are on board too.
All heavyweights.
This is a rarity.
A dream.
Less Quarantine than ever.
Not what you’re expecting.
Not what you're looking for.
It's what you need.
Let's make you an artist, less like yourself than ever.
P.S. – Check it out: the group photo that ended one business and started another, taken by a camera Jeremy made from a cigar box. It hangs in a special place in my studio. If you want your butt in the next photo, click ABOVE ⬆︎
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