The Red Devil At Dawn

Medium: Watercolor on paper

Date: 1967

The Red Devil at Dawn

My Own Life at Dawn

This marked the beginning of my creative journey: San Francisco, June 1966. Generals from the US Army in Europe praised my artwork, which significantly changed my life. I decided to pursue my passion for art beyond my military service. Accompanied by my girlfriend, we drove across the United States to Los Angeles, where we encountered her disapproving mother. Subsequently, we relocated to San Francisco. She eventually chose a monastic life, while I moved into a fourth-story rooming house for artists at the top of Fillmore Hill. Bob Dylan's music filled the airwaves, and the United States had transformed considerably during my three-year absence in Europe. Emerging artists, who later gained fame from the movie Monterey Pop, were just beginning their careers at the Fillmore, which later became known as Fillmore West. This period was characterized by a culture of free drugs and free love.

Our rooming house featured a communal kitchen: Elena, a stunning red-haired Italian painter, resided at the western end of the hall, while her rival, Georgine Garcia de la Blanch, lived on the eastern side, with her bay window merely three feet away from mine. On one occasion, I reached through her window and remarked, "None of that!" to her boyfriend, who was lifting her skirt. Drugs were new and easy to obtain, leading to various escapades. After a party, Rudolf Nureyev and Margot Fonteyn were arrested on our rooftop, crouched behind the chimney. The Opera House was conveniently located down the hill. Iris, our resident ballerina, urged me to stop painting and rush to secure a last-minute ticket to the Bolshoi Ballet. Having never attended a ballet before, I went and experienced one of the most memorable afternoons of my life, witnessing Maya Plisetskaya perform in Swan Lake. The entire audience, including myself, was moved to tears throughout the performance, costing me only a dollar to attend.

During a week spent painting billboards in a Pacific village, I encountered a retired diplomat who showed me the vanity table of Empress Carlota of Mexico—an item far removed from anything I had seen growing up on a farm in Minnesota. In December, the San Francisco Chronicle ran a headline: “Hippies Working at the Post Office!” Many of us were employed there for the Christmas season. One friend discovered a large chocolate bar filled with opium that had fallen out of a package. We questioned and laughed at the term "hippie," which none of us had ever heard before. That first summer boasted consistently beautiful weather. I resolved to stay indoors and paint, which proved fruitful as I sold a painting to the City of San Francisco on one such day.

Also in our rooming house, I met my first sleep-over girlfriend, and we explored the city together. And, yes, we discovered STDs. A friend who played the sitar mentioned practicing in the park alongside 17 other sitar players on a grassy hill. We were all experimenting with whatever intrigued us. By March 1967, I recognized that San Francisco was not conducive to selling art. I took a bus to New York City and found considerable success there. By May 1967, many of my friends had also relocated to New York. Drugs were no longer freely available, crime was on the rise, and the influx of flower children made us wary of staying. Elena's daughters, who had arrived at the rooming house the same day as I did in June 1966, left when I did on March 21, 1967. We reunited in New York and developed a lasting friendship. I had the pleasure of visiting them again in San Francisco in the summer of 2024!

It is from this formative time in my life that this week’s featured piece “The Red Devil at Dawn” emerges—not just as a surreal vision, but as a metaphor for the chaos, discovery, and transformation that defined those early years.

Symbolic Elements and Visual Design

At first glance, the composition feels like a dream unraveling—fragmented yet interconnected. The Head of Harlequin, with its sun-like rays and grinning face, contrasts sharply with the unsettling presence of the Red Devil, who seems to wield it like a trophy. This could symbolize the duality of comedy and tragedy, the mask of entertainment hiding something deeper beneath.

To the right, two bird-like creatures—Ducky and Big Mosquito—add to the uncanny atmosphere. Their exaggerated, almost grotesque forms challenge the viewer’s perception of innocence. The BRO Cat, with its sharp teeth and ambivalent expression, introduces yet another layer of contrast—familiar yet distorted.

Above the devil, a hovering skull-like entity watches over the scene, its mechanical or ritualistic appearance evoking thoughts of fate, control, or unseen forces guiding the narrative.

Techniques

The use of watercolor washes creates a soft, dreamlike haze that contrasts with the sharp, white outlines defining the figures. This technique enhances the feeling of an ephemeral, floating world where things may dissolve or shift at any moment. The color palette is warm yet chaotic—sunny yellows and fiery reds merge into cool blues and purples, suggesting the transition from night to day, or from order to entropy.

The outlining, which resembles chalk or etching, reinforces the feeling of a subconscious vision—something carved into memory rather than observed in reality. There’s a rawness in the rendering, as if the imagery was pulled directly from the depths of the mind without refinement, preserving its surreal potency.

Emotional Impact

This artwork evokes a mixture of amusement and unease, much like a dream that hovers between the ridiculous and the ominous. The devil figure, with its exaggerated mustache and wild expression, could be interpreted as a trickster—a force of disruption, challenging the structures of logic and expectation.

Yet, there is also a sense of control within the madness. The devil holds the sun-faced Harlequin firmly, as if dictating the narrative. Is this a creator orchestrating chaos, or chaos itself masquerading as control?

Life Lesson

This piece speaks to the interplay of forces in our lives—the balance between humor and darkness, spontaneity and structure. The Red Devil at Dawn reminds us that sometimes, chaos is necessary for transformation. The dawn itself is a moment of transition, where the remnants of night still linger, and the full clarity of day has yet to arrive.

As Picasso once said, “Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” Perhaps this surreal vision of devils and harlequins, of birds with hidden menace and skulls with unseen influence, reveals a truth about our own dance with uncertainty.