Excerpts of Northwest Arkansas Times/Democrat-Gazette, Sunday, July 07, 2002

Outside but not looking in:
Former businessman-turned-artist Kelly Moore tackles art on his own terms

BY TRESA McBEE -Northwest Arkansas Times

Getting fired for not attending the company Christmas party probably turned Kelly Moore into an artist.

Not immediately, of course, but Moore believes that particular firing -- it had happened before with the same fly-off-the-handle boss -- made him realize the proverbial fork in the road was upon him.

So he took it to Arkansas.

Moore, born in Batesville and raised in Springdale, returned to his native state in 1996 after six years in New York City. He got right back int to the same business of real estate, but that, too, would end.

After all, going from "showing apartments in Greenwich Village to $60,000 track homes" didn't exactly inspire.

"I was working with movie stars, and I was working with high-rises -- it makes for a pretty interesting day," explained the tall, blue-eyed, 40-year-old Moore, who didn't really want to go into which movie stars he worked with, concerned about name-dropping. "They're a dime a dozen in big cities. It's almost embarrassing."

Fortunately, Moore's decision to take the "path of least resistance" back to Fayetteville has turned out well. So well, in fact, that Moore thinks he will someday be famous. And if things continue the way they've been going, that someday might be any day.

Moore never yearned to be an artist. He didn't dabble in finger paints. He didn't bring home misshapen clay animals from school. He didn't study for years.

Moore simply picked up a brush and isn't sure why. He does remember experimenting with photography when a friend, who happened to discover canvas just recently himself having completed his first painting this very day, told Moore that painting was freer. Indeed, Moore thought the camera rather limiting, so he tried painting.

It was kismet.

"Who I am and what I do, I work very carefully to protect," Moore explained. "I work intuitively. It's fun. If it's not fun, it's no good for me."

If people want to call Moore an "Visionary Artist" -- as in self-taught -- that's OK. Visionary Artist is a "broad, complex term," and although Moore said he probably fits most of the parameters, he prefers to let others define him so he doesn't get "narrowed or restricted." His aim is to be "prolific and artistically powerful."

Before art, however, there was business.

Moore entered the University of Arkansas in 1981, graduating with a degree in real estate and finance in 1986. In retrospect, he thinks his career choice was one of those "thoughtless plunges." At the time, Moore considered himself a fairly "aware" person but now believes he pursued real estate because it's what his father did and doing so earned family approval.

After graduation, Moore worked for Coldwell Banker for a few years before packing his bags and ending up in a new place the way so many before him have: He followed a girlfriend. "It was a deal with the devil. I knew what I was getting into."

If it sounds dramatic, it probably was. Moore said he has difficulty with relationships, the turmoil of which ends up on canvas. He doesn't plan to; it just happens.

"It's a subconscious purge on some level. Which can be very intriguing and embarrassing all at once. You just never what's going to show up."

Moore was fired his first day of work in Manhattan. Never having taken a train before, he got lost and missed an appointment, much to the irritation of his "dynamic" boss who was "amazing but temperamental." After hearing Moore's explanation and telling him to buy a map and learn the subway, she hired him back.

It was a fire-and-hire routine with which Moore would become familiar, culminating in the missed-Christmas-party firing.

Not a particularly social person, Moore said parties make him nervous, so he didn't go. He thinks his boss fired him because she sensed him changing. She hired him back, but Moore worked for only another year, finishing his lease and mapping a plan. Sort of.

Moore moved to Fayetteville, resuming real estate. With inspiration gone, however, he kept his license long enough to buy rental properties. Until recently, he had 10 but has sold five and plans to sell the remaining five, because they're a "creativity killer."

About two years into painting, Moore had the vision of his famous future, although he didn't attempt to sell his work until last year when he hired a company to produce a Web site and began selling on eBay. It was a decision fueled by finances and necessity -- his house was brimming with art.

Moving onto the Internet was a case of build it and they will come, Moore said. He has sold work in 33 states and in Great Britain, France and Canada. Some have bought only one or two, while others are "collectors," creating virtual Moore galleries. One Harvard University professor of linguistics has bought 40 paintings and recently sent Moore images of where they hang in her house. A collector in California and another in Great Britain are as equally enthusiastic, and three gallery owners have recently expressed interest.

"I've very grateful people think I have something to say and collect what I do. It feels really good," Moore said. "I have something really strong to say, I think. There's just no way around it. I can't stop it."

Moore isn't limited to canvas, either. His Web site at www.kellymoore.net includes a short "monthly rant" covering timely topics like the environment and the Enron scandal. Moore has enough to say that he's thinking of "jacking it up" to perhaps daily, because "I do want to change the world on some level."

If he does that, it won't be by any rules. Lacking a formal arts education is "liberating" to Moore. He readily admits he doesn't know how to draw, which he thinks spurs spontaneous creativity unburdened by layers of have-tos imposed by others.

But if he approaches his work with an instinctive freedom, Moore said the subject will always veer toward the personal. Whether it's a five-painting series portraying an intense relationship gone wrong or three small works recalling rabbit hunting as a child, Moore's life is an open canvas filled with whatever material strikes him that day -- sand, paper bags, aluminum foil, an ex-girlfriend's T-shirt (because he had to get rid of it).

Self-portraits have space, too, such as the sly-looking animal not seen in nature with a pointy, unicorn-like horn facing backward --harmless in its position, Moore explained, but indicative of how some people view him as difficult.

But forget the starving artist bit. Moore doesn't buy it.

"I don't believe there's anything a person can't do if they put their mind to it. I just put myself out there. Some people will say I missed wildly. I like that. ... "