DOUG MASH'S SELF-PORTRAIT GALLERY

"I'd rather take some time and do something personal. Adolph Hitler signed a piece of paper for Neville Chamberlain once and look what that was worth."
-Robyn Hitchcock before an autograph signing session

They're a rare breed, the autograph seekers. Just what is the value of someone's signature anyway? Does the fact that an artist once scribbled his "Brxwzce Sprxzxstxzzn" on an album cover really give the bearer a warm glow of remembrance years down the line?

For baseball stars, the value of an autograph is often the $15 apiece they sign for at baseball card conventions. For memorabilia dealers, it is the $50 they turn around and sell the autographed bat or ball to some schnook who never even gets the fond memory of watching his favorite star scribble at his behest.

For me, the only valuable tokens of a brush with stardom (since paternity suits are not applicable in my case) are the "buddy photo" and my personal favorite means of annoyance, the self-portrait. Since the buddy photo is such a tricky proposition (i.e.- whether or not to put my arm around Johnny Rotten), I usually opt for the self-portrait.

Getting a twenty second take on how an artist feels about himself at that given moment is far more valuable to me than his scribble on a disc cover. Someday, I'll pitch a coffee table book of these portraits to a publisher, with psychoanalysis by some Madison Ave. shrink. For now, though, I have to settle for my own insights on the artist's demeanor, as psychology isn't included in the Scene's medical plan.

As my only memory of college Psychology was the guy in Doc Martens next to me who would intermittently blurt out "Freud was full of shit" during lecture (an interesting title for a dissertation, I think), please note that my psychoanalysis should not be misinterpreted as an expert's opinion, so please do not seek help if you are one of the artists represented, it was probably just your brush with me that caused your distress.

JOHNNY ROTTEN (WLIR-FM Studio, Hempstead,NY/November 1987) This was the first self portrait I ever asked for. Looking at the spikes and buck teeth, my first thought was to correct Johnny, and I almost said "No...what you think you look like...not me!" As Johnny used his "Rotten" name, it was evident that this was the "cartoon" Johnny Rotten he was drawing, not John Lydon. The string of stars above his name certifies this as a star trip, and the breasts that form the letter "W" confirm his "Rotteness." A look at himself as media cartoon from an artist who is constantly asked to switch on a false rotten demeanor to uphold his punk roots.

ANDY PARTRIDGE (XTC) (Record World, Garden City,NY/May 1989) (*Shown Below*)
Poor Andy. Restricted from the world's stage by severe stage fright, the witty frontman of XTC is about the most affable guy you're ever likely to meet. When faced with a self-portrait request, Andy painted himself into the corner of the page. A unique approach to my request, Andy draws his balding & bespectacled self hiding in the corner while his heart takes center stage. Come out and play, Andy!

ROBYN HITCHCOCK (Tower Records, Carle Place, NY/May 1989)
I knew this would be a doozy. Despite an obvious case of acute jet lag and the fact that I was last in line, Robyn obliged with an intricate line rendition of himself. The detail is typical of Robyn's multi-art craft, with an air of mystery to boot. Dissatisfaction wih himself is evident from the mixed line of the mouth and droopy, downward-browed eyes. Then again, maybe it was just the jet lag!

PAUL WELLER (Tower Records, New York City/November 1992)
This was another one I was a little afraid to ask for. After all, Weller had been in the U.S. only once in nearly eight years beforehand. Offending him cold have caused another hiatus, but this was the happy Weller greeting his fans. He bristled slightly, then starting with his Townsend-like nose and even added a seldom-photographed smile! He winced a little at his hairstyle, but generally approved of his work as I walked away with a rare moment of Paul Weller happy and at ease.

GLENN TILBROOK & CHRIS DIFFORD (SQUEEZE) (Record World, Garden City, NY/Summer 1989) Glenn draws himself as a sleeping lion. Soon to awaken and roar on stage, but resting contently in success. Chris draws himself as a no-frills circle with a smile. Like his harmonies, his vision of himself is a straightforward one, economical of thought with no wasted strokes.

FRANK ORRALL (POI DOG PONDERING) (Ritz, New York City, Spring 1990) Another artist in more ways than just music, Frank emphasizes the things that make him special; the tongue & exaggerated voice box, and the light bulb of ideas floating above his head. This monster-like rendition makes me wonder, though. For the ever-happy Poi lead singer to add a "666" under his hairline makes me think there's a side to him he hasn't shown yet!