Michael Wynne was raised on
8-track tapes in the country town of Kirvin, Texas (population 64). As a
boy he learned about the evils of modern art from the local reverend, and
proceeded to copy the modern masters, making his own versions of Warhol,
Rauschenberg, Pollock, et al.
Mix that in with lots of days
working the ranch, plenty of late night crash pad culture, and stints in
Dallas and Chicago, and you've pretty much got the picture.
These days Michael's work
combines dripped house paint, candy bar wrappers, loose change, and silkscreens, all composed to a bootleg cd soundtrack, with big dumb
neon signs glowing in the background.
That's right, big dumb neon
signs...if you're so inclined, take a look at Michael's exhibition biography
and for the rest, stay tuned.