Rodney Alan Greenblat—Alumnus, 1977
“I wish I had spent less time worrying about girls, driving around in cars, hanging out and pretending to be a slacker. I should have invented the personal computer, started a new wave rock band and come up with Super Mario.”
“The Inside Story”/Artistic and Career Path
I started working on my first show of paintings when I was three. The show was presented on the refrigerator door, and I received excellent reviews from Mom, Dad and Grandma. I was very much encouraged to be an artist, and art materials were always made available to me, including a tiny smock and beret. In second grade I gave a presentation about the artist Mondrian, and I said he did not use a ruler. We moved to suburban Maryland from San Francisco when I was 10, and I quickly became the school art star. One of my great accomplishments at the time was the cover of the PTA handbook, done in a very attractive 1970's style with 3-D-look stars and bubbly type.
Looking back at that era, I have no regrets, although I wonder if I may have been a child prodigy in the league of Mozart or Doogie Howser, MD. Maybe it is a good thing that I was not recognized in that way as I could have suffered emotional problems later in life as many child prodigies do.
In high school I inhabited the art classrooms as much as possible, and avoided other subjects as much as possible, since I was unable to concentrate much on any of the other subjects. I was a likable and awkward teenager, and my kind teachers of the "other subjects" let me slide by with a D average knowing I was destined for greatness. In nearby Washington, DC I visited the Hirshhorn museum just after it opened, and I felt the way a baby sea turtle must feel as it reaches the ocean for the first time. Unfortunately, "society" had wrongly suggested that being a "fine" artist does not make "money," so I began a pursuit of a "career" in "commercial" art.
Looking back on that era, I wish I had spent less time worrying about girls, driving around in cars, hanging out and pretending to be a slacker. I should have been serious, followed my creative instincts more closely and searched out inspiring mentors. I should have invented the personal computer, started a new wave rock band and come up with Super Mario.
Next, I began my star-crossed adventure in New York City where I attended School of Visual Arts. There I was confronted with all the art classroom inhabitants from all the other high schools, competing for the same greatness. I quickly realized "commercial" art was not for me, and that "fine" artists in NYC who show at big galleries do make "money". So I began to work as hard as I could. I started making colorful abstractions, and suddenly my cartoony Picasso imitations began to get attention. Goofy animals and turquoise cubist space men began to appear in my work and everyone loved it.
Looking back on that era, I wish I had paid more attention to the amazing social circles and brain bank that is provided by college. My instructors were amazing people, and many of my peers were breaking barriers with their work. College students often take their instructors and school for granted. Of course naiveté and ignorance are a big part of being a college student, and I excelled in both of these areas.
What a lucky duck I was when I graduated: A whole new art scene was awakening in the East Village in NYC where I luckily lived at that time. I luckily found a gallery to show my oddly cartoony and colorful crafties. Luckily, there were some brave new art collectors who took a chance on me, and in 1985 I was luckily included in the Whitney Museum Biennial. At 25 I may have been one of the youngest artists to show there. From 1982 until 1992, I had ten solo shows in major galleries and was included in hundreds of group shows all over the world. I married my best friend from art school, we became parents, and bought a large loft in the middle of SoHo which became our home and studio.
Looking back on that era, I realize it was all a "rush" in every sense of that word. I made literally tons of artwork, and almost all of it was sold. I thought very little about the meaning of what I was doing, and followed the flow. I was so privileged to be able to do what I did, and I thank all the people who helped me make all that happen.
The tide ran out of my art career in the beginning of the nineties. The big fish collectors swam away from my work, the gallery I was in went under, and I was left high and dry and nearly broke. I began working on a series of children's books, which had mild success. I had been tinkering with the Macintosh computer and I decided to try to publish some of my digital doodles. Once again luck was on my side, as personal computers and interactive media began their ascension. “CD-ROM” became the buzzword, and I had accidentally created some great CD-ROM content. My first project, Rodney's Funscreen, was a total business disaster, so I switched publishers, and my next two CD-ROMs became famous. Wonder Window and Dazzeloids were published by the legendary Voyager Company. In the mid-nineties I was a celebrity at computer trade shows.
Looking back on that era it was amazing how I pulled another career out of a hat. Too bad the internet came to make CD-ROMs un-sellable, and pushed me towards financial disaster again. Even so I was on to an even more fantastic adventure.
Dazzeloids was a well-known work in Japan, and Voyager prompted me to visit. I also had a long-standing relationship with an illustration agent in Tokyo. He began to get me some work doing illustrations for Japanese companies, and before I knew it I was working on some high profile advertising campaigns in Japan. We created an unheard of deal with Sony, and I became a contract designer making cute cartoon characters for products and licensing. Next I met with some wildly creative Japanese designers working on a new game machine called Playstation®. I was immediately added to a "dream team" group working on a crazy music-based video game called Parappa the Rapper. I was the character designer, and the game was a huge hit, selling three million copies worldwide. Eventually the game spawned two sequels and a prime time animated TV show in Japan.
Looking back on that era, I was privileged again, this time to discover a completely new (but oddly familiar) world in Japan. I had amazing access to the inside of huge Japanese companies and the people that make them work. From there I could see my own culture from the outside, and learn a little about how mass markets operate. My only regret is that I did not push them more, and I should have compromised less. My go-with-the-flow attitude helped me start relationships in Japan, but later it was my undoing. A series of poorly thought out corporate decisions caused the projects to evaporate.
Current Status
In 2002 my contract with Sony ended, and I did not re-sign. Slowly I started cutting down on commercial jobs in Japan. I have returned to my roots, making artwork alone in my studio. It has taken much soul searching and battling with painful doubt in order to build up a new and exciting body of work. I am still pursuing that goal, and have recently had my first show in the U.S. in over 10 years. My work has changed as I am exploring the world of abstraction that I had been interested in when I began art school. I am rediscovering artists such as Kandinsky and Miro, and refining my own style of energetic, colorful and somewhat goofy forms that I hope can express the core of my being.
Rodney has also participated in The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards of 1999—this time, as a Juror.
“I wish I had spent less time worrying about girls, driving around in cars, hanging out and pretending to be a slacker. I should have invented the personal computer, started a new wave rock band and come up with Super Mario.”
“The Inside Story”/Artistic and Career Path
I started working on my first show of paintings when I was three. The show was presented on the refrigerator door, and I received excellent reviews from Mom, Dad and Grandma. I was very much encouraged to be an artist, and art materials were always made available to me, including a tiny smock and beret. In second grade I gave a presentation about the artist Mondrian, and I said he did not use a ruler. We moved to suburban Maryland from San Francisco when I was 10, and I quickly became the school art star. One of my great accomplishments at the time was the cover of the PTA handbook, done in a very attractive 1970's style with 3-D-look stars and bubbly type.
Looking back at that era, I have no regrets, although I wonder if I may have been a child prodigy in the league of Mozart or Doogie Howser, MD. Maybe it is a good thing that I was not recognized in that way as I could have suffered emotional problems later in life as many child prodigies do.
In high school I inhabited the art classrooms as much as possible, and avoided other subjects as much as possible, since I was unable to concentrate much on any of the other subjects. I was a likable and awkward teenager, and my kind teachers of the "other subjects" let me slide by with a D average knowing I was destined for greatness. In nearby Washington, DC I visited the Hirshhorn museum just after it opened, and I felt the way a baby sea turtle must feel as it reaches the ocean for the first time. Unfortunately, "society" had wrongly suggested that being a "fine" artist does not make "money," so I began a pursuit of a "career" in "commercial" art.
Looking back on that era, I wish I had spent less time worrying about girls, driving around in cars, hanging out and pretending to be a slacker. I should have been serious, followed my creative instincts more closely and searched out inspiring mentors. I should have invented the personal computer, started a new wave rock band and come up with Super Mario.
Next, I began my star-crossed adventure in New York City where I attended School of Visual Arts. There I was confronted with all the art classroom inhabitants from all the other high schools, competing for the same greatness. I quickly realized "commercial" art was not for me, and that "fine" artists in NYC who show at big galleries do make "money". So I began to work as hard as I could. I started making colorful abstractions, and suddenly my cartoony Picasso imitations began to get attention. Goofy animals and turquoise cubist space men began to appear in my work and everyone loved it.
Looking back on that era, I wish I had paid more attention to the amazing social circles and brain bank that is provided by college. My instructors were amazing people, and many of my peers were breaking barriers with their work. College students often take their instructors and school for granted. Of course naiveté and ignorance are a big part of being a college student, and I excelled in both of these areas.
What a lucky duck I was when I graduated: A whole new art scene was awakening in the East Village in NYC where I luckily lived at that time. I luckily found a gallery to show my oddly cartoony and colorful crafties. Luckily, there were some brave new art collectors who took a chance on me, and in 1985 I was luckily included in the Whitney Museum Biennial. At 25 I may have been one of the youngest artists to show there. From 1982 until 1992, I had ten solo shows in major galleries and was included in hundreds of group shows all over the world. I married my best friend from art school, we became parents, and bought a large loft in the middle of SoHo which became our home and studio.
Looking back on that era, I realize it was all a "rush" in every sense of that word. I made literally tons of artwork, and almost all of it was sold. I thought very little about the meaning of what I was doing, and followed the flow. I was so privileged to be able to do what I did, and I thank all the people who helped me make all that happen.
The tide ran out of my art career in the beginning of the nineties. The big fish collectors swam away from my work, the gallery I was in went under, and I was left high and dry and nearly broke. I began working on a series of children's books, which had mild success. I had been tinkering with the Macintosh computer and I decided to try to publish some of my digital doodles. Once again luck was on my side, as personal computers and interactive media began their ascension. “CD-ROM” became the buzzword, and I had accidentally created some great CD-ROM content. My first project, Rodney's Funscreen, was a total business disaster, so I switched publishers, and my next two CD-ROMs became famous. Wonder Window and Dazzeloids were published by the legendary Voyager Company. In the mid-nineties I was a celebrity at computer trade shows.
Looking back on that era it was amazing how I pulled another career out of a hat. Too bad the internet came to make CD-ROMs un-sellable, and pushed me towards financial disaster again. Even so I was on to an even more fantastic adventure.
Dazzeloids was a well-known work in Japan, and Voyager prompted me to visit. I also had a long-standing relationship with an illustration agent in Tokyo. He began to get me some work doing illustrations for Japanese companies, and before I knew it I was working on some high profile advertising campaigns in Japan. We created an unheard of deal with Sony, and I became a contract designer making cute cartoon characters for products and licensing. Next I met with some wildly creative Japanese designers working on a new game machine called Playstation®. I was immediately added to a "dream team" group working on a crazy music-based video game called Parappa the Rapper. I was the character designer, and the game was a huge hit, selling three million copies worldwide. Eventually the game spawned two sequels and a prime time animated TV show in Japan.
Looking back on that era, I was privileged again, this time to discover a completely new (but oddly familiar) world in Japan. I had amazing access to the inside of huge Japanese companies and the people that make them work. From there I could see my own culture from the outside, and learn a little about how mass markets operate. My only regret is that I did not push them more, and I should have compromised less. My go-with-the-flow attitude helped me start relationships in Japan, but later it was my undoing. A series of poorly thought out corporate decisions caused the projects to evaporate.
Current Status
In 2002 my contract with Sony ended, and I did not re-sign. Slowly I started cutting down on commercial jobs in Japan. I have returned to my roots, making artwork alone in my studio. It has taken much soul searching and battling with painful doubt in order to build up a new and exciting body of work. I am still pursuing that goal, and have recently had my first show in the U.S. in over 10 years. My work has changed as I am exploring the world of abstraction that I had been interested in when I began art school. I am rediscovering artists such as Kandinsky and Miro, and refining my own style of energetic, colorful and somewhat goofy forms that I hope can express the core of my being.
Rodney has also participated in The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards of 1999—this time, as a Juror.
Exhibitions
Rodney’s work is available for viewing online at: http://www.whimsyload.com/
Recognition Through The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards:
- The Scholastic Art & Writing Awards of 1977
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