Why the MFA? (Prof K.-3 entries)

Why was the gift of the trip to the MFA so important to me? It's a long story, but some of my earliest memories, quite literally, are of the MFA Boston. As a very young child I would spend weekends with my grandfather who lived down the street from the MFA, with my hands firmly in my pockets, following him through the museum.We never walked through the whole museum, just to the rooms with the paintings that he wanted to see. It seemed to me that we spent days at a time sitting looking at paintings. I know it was just hours. Every once in a while my grandfather would exhale or let out a,”Hmmmm”, get up, and walk over to a painting, adjust his glasses, and lean in to get abetter look, zooming in as close as the docents would allow. I never minded these trips, and still don’t. In high school, if the headmaster would call my father to say that I had skipped school that day, my dad knew exactly where I had been. When he would pick me up that evening at the bus station he would hold out his hand, palm up. I instantly knew he knew, and would place the small, brightly colored lapel pin that they gave you when you paid your entry fee in his open palm. Nothing was ever said. (When I opened my first gallery, my father handed me a cherry wood box. When I looked inside, it was full of those lapel pins.) The house that I grew up in, as well as my grandparents house on Marlborough Street, have since been sold. So going to the MFA fills in for them. It's the place that I can go to and remember my childhood, my adolescence, and even important times in my adult life. It is home.

For My Birthday... (Prof K.- two entries)

     Well, here it comes, my least favorite day. I've seriously, always just hated it. I just want someone to buy me the right cake! Stop and Shop just won't cut it. For my birthday, I want a real cake, rich decadent and yummy. Or, a small gift that lets me know that someone out there really knows me, not as a test or anything, just something that says,"here, this is for you", like, as in ,"You", meaning me.        Right now, I am broke. I can't even buy food. I've been eating rice and canned beans for over a week now. I've stocked up on them just for times like this. There is money coming any day now, so I don't want or need sympathy. I don't want someone to buy me dinner or provide for me, or feel bad for me. This is my bed, I'll lie in it. I'm the one who decided to go back to school and try to surf student loans to live. I have the basic necessities. It's just that sometimes I need to feel human.
    I just opened an email from some friends. For my birthday, they are going to take me to the MFA in Boston. This is the gift that I've been waiting for. The MFA is my cathedral, Art is my religion. Some days, it's just nice to know that someone knows you that well.

Don't Limit Yourself ! (Prof.K-4 entries)

I follow this guy on Facebook. I read his book, "Do Over". It had some good advice. He asks questions sometimes. This is the first one I've answered:

(It's a link, click it.)

 Five K is the beginning of any marathon. There has never ever been a marathon run that did not start with 5K.If you run 5k, maybe I'm going to bet, you can run 10. Then you can probably work your way up to 12, and then 15, then 20, etc. but, if you set a goal for five... well, you ran 5K, and that's great. If you set a goal of 100 books, and you only get 1/4 of the way there, you have still read more than 24 books. Whether or not 100 books is attainable is not even really relevant. The more important issue is questioning your goal and your ability to achieve it. I would bet that the person that does so instantly becomes less likely to reach it. They have already said,"Well, I can't do that." A person who looks at it and says,"Yes, that's a lot, but lets see how many I CAN read...", if they maintain the proper attitude, I'm willing to bet, will probably exceed the lower number.

 I used to sell cars. I'm not proud of that, but I did. We would have a meeting at the beginning of every month, My boss would ask each of us for a goal. The average car salesman in that area at that time sold around 12 cars per month. He would go around the room and ask each person, and they would tell their goal:12, 15...20. When he would get to me, I would say fifty. 

He would get mad at me and yell, "Nobody can sell fifty cars in a month!", and he would quote statistics and froth at the mouth. "The average sales person sells "X". They talk to "Y" number of people every month. They make "Z" number of phone calls... In order to sell fifty cars you would need to talk to however many people...So how to you plan on doing that?"  

I would say,"Bring me that many people." 

He would get irate.

 The fact of the matter is, I never sold fifty cars in one month. But, one month, I did sell 48. I was always his top sales person. 

Not Entirely True... (Prof K.-4 entries)

It really wasn't a lie...

So the part in my last blog, where I told you I got my name from the Simpson's were true. The part about the Artist Social Networking site was as well. It was called 723.com. It was a great site that no longer exists. That is too bad really, it was a great site for artists. There was no judgement, just other Artists, there for the same reasons you were; approval, commiseration, a good place to vent your spleen. It was effective, and someone should create a new site like that.

Before I decided to do the online experiment, I tried it out in a social setting. For years, I had been going to a golf tournament. a friend of mine from High School had passed away from Hodgeken's Disease. Every year eight guys from our High School football team would get together and form two teams in a golf scramble. The tournament raised a ton of money. In the first year alone we raised enough money to pay for both of his young boys college. after that we went on to raise a ton of money for the Cam Neely House, and a slew of Cancer research funds. Seeing the guys from the team again was always great. But, even after eight years of going, no one else could remember my name. Every year a group from High school would get together the night before the tourney to have a few beers and reminisce. On this particular year, I voiced my hatred of my anonymity. The bar that we always would meet at played re-runs of the Simpsons on the TVs when there weren't any sports on. On this particular night the "Max Powers' episode was playing. As I watched. I had an epiphany. Tomorrow, I would be Max Powers! Several of the event organizers were out with us that night, and they were soon in on the rouse. The next day, I would check in as Max.

As I handed my clubs to the man with the clip board and told him my name, he found it almost instantly. 

"Oh, here you are Mr. Powers", he said with a smile as he handed me my name tag and gift bag. The whole day went like that. everybody loved Max Powers. No one even questioned that last year I was someone else, someone whose name they couldn't remember. To make it even worse, by midday people were introducing me to other people as "Max". It was then that I realized that it was all in a name, and mine was now Max! 

The next morning at Starbucks, the name they wrote on my cup after ordering was Max, not Gary, not Glenn, and not Greig. Who the fuck even spells it like that? 

So that is the true(er) story of how I became Max Powers.

Let's Start from the Top... (Prof.K-2 entries)

     Where do I even start?... My name is Greg Lindberg. I am an artist. If you weren't looking at this in print and I asked you to repeat my name, most couldn't. When I tell people my name is Greg, most hear "Craig", they remember "Glenn" or "Gary, I've even gotten "Grey Glindberg"back from some... To make my point short, No one ever remembers my name. That's O.K., except for the fact that recognition is key to my making a living.

     A few years back, when I decided to take control of my life and stop dreaming about being a working artist, and actually start doing it, I did a little experiment. I started some identical social networking pages under two names, "Greg Lindberg", and "Max Powers". As awful as it sounds, I got the name "Max Powers" from an episode of "The Simpsons". I'm sure that it is a Google-able episode. The basic premise of the plot is that Homer changes his name to Max Power after seeing it on his Power Drill. Once he does this, his life changes amazingly for the better. Anyway... when it came to social networking the results were instantaneous and obvious! Greg Lindberg had made a few friends within a week, whereas Max Powers had made literally HUNDREDS. on identical pages with the exact same content, people liked and friended Max Powers by about ten to one over Greg Lindberg.

     It was then that I decided to become Max Powers.

Coming Soon!