Forget about going to the art gallery. On Thursday, the art gallery will be coming to you.
By Joe Eskenazi
As a young man, artist Philo Northrup navigated from Point A to Point B in a 1977 Chevy Vega. And while it’s the sort of vehicle of which one can easily imagine a mustachioed actor with tight jeans and chest hair sliding across the hood to deliver a spin kick to the leader of a kung fu army, Northrup’s was “a real piece of junk.”
“I didn’t feel like it properly reflected my identity — and, make no mistake, your car reflects your identity whether you like it or not. So, I put some zebra stripes and deer antlers on it,” he recalled.
“I got such positive feedback on it. And most artists don’t get that. They work in relative obscurity.”
Several decades later, Northrup is no longer obscure: He’s the guy with the car (in fact, that's him in the picture).