The Sahara hotel, slated to close forever next week, was the first location I was asked to leave. Anywhere. In the world.
Despite the bike security guard being mad cool, I was shocked when we were forced out. I was offered a meeting with their marketing director… but when I went inside to meet with him, he was nowhere to be found. Classy.
So we set-up, initially, here, on the very fringe of the Sahara’s property (so close to a vacant lot, it was down to the map).
We managed to make the best of the situation, me Ari and Jerry. After the jump, my first location, ever, where I had to change vantage points midway through.
I was down to my last New York Post headlines. Cleaned out. Newsprinterly broke. So I threw in a Las Vegas Sun headline. Why not?
Starting with a sketch, including the Space Needle, which is bigger than the original. Ironic.
Oh snap! After Paul rode over and made us leave. For the record, bike security guards in Vegas carry guns. Strapped if you will. Thus, you listen.
Primary red from the tube, freestyle mark-making, feeling the flow of the Metrodome painting I made in December:
Playing with the collage layers and linear connections.
As you can see, the wall next to us on Vegas BLVD cast a sharp shadow. Shortly after this picture was taken, our easels blew over. Painful.
Felt pretty balanced at this midpoint stage, actually.
But I decided to keep pushing, determined to capture not only the Sahara, but how it felt to be kicked out of the Sahara.
And then, it was time to call it finished. Abstract, energized, feeling good.
Ohhhhh…. bars. The dome, which may be a thing of the past. Like your stomach lining, if you go for the six pound burrito.
And The Sahara, Las Vegas, my impression. Soon, it will be gone.
The Sahara joins the El Cortez Hotel…
And the sign. Stand by for the Luxor, at night….