"When Greg Shot Jimmy" Caught Craig by Surprise

Title: "When Greg Shot Jimmy" Caught Craig by Surprise
Written by: Craig Paul Nowak with response by Jimmy James

The photo I chose was the best representation of Marilyn Monroe I could find. I consulted a few friends. We all agreed, it was a great image of Marilyn. Production began. I had spray paint. I cut some stencils. Seven layers later I was ready. Painting commenced.

The air in my kitchen was thick as smog. A reddish brown hue settled on the furniture. Several weeks passed. At the same time I was completing a set of self portraits in the same way; 40 Marilyns, 40 self portraits, a handful of sexy lips, some Betty Boops, and an abstract side project. The number 40 was a coincidence. It just so happened that I missed breathing without the scent of aerosol in the air, and I was packing to move to Italy.

Craig Paul Nowak stencil self portraits

The stenciled self portraits made sense. The lips were contrived, the Betty Boops were a friend's painting that I agreed to help with, and the abstract side project had real genuine breakthrough potential. Regardless, everything remained crated or boxed, safe and sound back in my Detroit storage along with 100s of other works of art, that is, everything except for the Marilyns.

I loved the Marilyns but didn't know what to do with them. They were the only art that came to Italy in my suitcase alongside my button ups and suit vests. The person who requested I make them took the four that she commissioned. A wonderful man who visited my studio fell in love with five and bought those before they were packed, while the rest sit here on my shelf in Milan staring back at me as I type this thought.

 And this is where it gets good.

I posted a selection of the Marilyns on Facebook to assess my audience's reaction. It was good, lots of support, a few nibbles, definite possibility and overwhelming positivity. Then I tagged them under the name Marilyn Monroe. Facebook connected the images to her page and now everyone could see my art. The sky turned black.

One woman, a diehard fan, jumped at the paintings saying, "That's not MM." This one is definitely not MM!"

I was upset, but I let it ride. My first thought was, "An artist's interpretation of an icon is as much, if not more of an accurate representation of her than the careless butchering of her name by reducing it to a pair of meaningless initials." It seemed like a foolish battle to feed, so rather than making it fat, I chose to starve the argument.

A few days later, the onslaught returned. "That's not Marilyn. That's Jimmy James!"

"Jimmy James?" I thought to myself.

Finally, a lead! This, I must investigate! If one thing can be said about me, it's that I hold integrity above all else. If I say that the woman I painted is Marilyn and it turns out to be someone else, then I will correct my statement and redirect my initial purpose accordingly. This woman will become the focus of these paintings. They will no longer be titled Marilyn in Glasses and will instead reference Jimmy James, that is, if Jimmy James is a real person.

At first, my search came up dry, only one Pinterest post alluding to an optical campaign for L.A. Eyeworks photographed by Greg Gorman, but nothing else. I delved deeper, googling variations on all of these clues and still could not find the image in question. Eventually I discovered the entire set of ads from the campaign, and I went through them one by one, still no Marilyn. The photography style was similar, but the words that embellished the images uniformly throughout were not on the image I used, an image I found on a website paying homage to Marilyn's magnificence. I felt confident holding tight to a shred of hope that my accusers were wrong. "Whoever this Jimmy James is, she isn't who I painted," I thought. But then it happened.

Scrolling along the top header of Jimmy James' own website; there she was, the image I used to paint Marilyn Monroe, complete with L.A. Eyeworks campaign logo and slogan. It said, "A face is like a work of art. It deserves a great frame." I was stunned. I clicked on the image. Below it there was an explanation stating why she was not in circulation like the others in the campaign.

"Jimmy's infamous Ad for L.A. EYEWORKS ran only once for the 20 year Anniversary issue of INTERVIEW Magazine. It had to be pulled because of threats of Law Suits from the Marilyn Monroe Estate. L.A. EYEWORKS is forbidden from ever displaying it anywhere. Photo by Greg Gorman, 1991."

I laughed. What was I to do? The story was priceless. Here I am, an artist, painting an image of a Marilyn impersonator thinking it's the best image of Marilyn I could find. I devote time and energy to it. I fall in love with it. It makes me smile. My friends and clients also fall in love with it, then boom... She's not Marilyn.

As I'm explaining the mix-up to a friend, the story begins to intrigue me. It intrigues me so much that I decide it - the story - is in fact, the silver lining. What was once little more than a set of attractive Marilyn paintings is now a living breathing work of art overflowing with dialogue.

Of course I want to share this happy accident with someone who can appreciate it so I seek out Jimmy James, the one and only Jimmy James, the woman beautiful enough to impersonate Marilyn Monroe and fool a group of appreciators.

I found her website and emailed her manager. I found her facebook and emailed her. In the email I deliberately typed "Ms. Jimmy James" this is what happened. "Ms. Jimmy James" bla bla bla will you accept a painting as a gift to show my appreciation, and will you give one to Mr. Greg Gorman too? Read, revise, read, edit, approve, read once more to be safe, smile, nod, click *SEND*.

After the message cleared from the screen I saw it, what I hadn't seen before, another ad. This one also appeared to be Marilyn, only instead of her having glasses on, she was nude, presumably, laying on the ground with nothing more than a fur blanket to cover her remarkable body. She sprawled out across the page all in white; white blanket, white background, white floor, white body. Below her were three words written in big bold black letters. I clicked the ad. "MR. JIMMY JAMES" Again I laughed, only this time it was a boisterous gut shaking laugh!

"MR.!" it said.

"MR.JIMMY JAMES!"

You know that feeling you get when you're reading a story and somehow you never see the twist until it smacks you right in the center of your unsuspecting face? It all takes place exactly as the writer wished it would. Well I had that feeling times ten. It never occurred to me that Jimmy James - two blatantly masculine names "Jimmy" and "James"- were the combined name of one MAN, a very pretty and very convincing Marilyn, but still, a man...

"Bravo!!!" I thought to myself, "bravo!".

One of 40 "When Greg Shot Jimmy" paintings

Jimmy James wrote this in response:

Dearest Craig Paul Nowak,

I am so honored and flattered that you found me. You're work is so beautiful!

Yes it's true, that image of Marilyn Monroe is really me - Jimmy James. It was shot by the famous photographer Greg Gorman in Los Angeles, CA around 1990 for the l.a. Eyeworks ad campaigns.
The ad appeared only ONCE in the 20 year anniversary of INTERVIEW Magazine with Ziggy Marley on the cover. Greg Gorman and l.a. Eyeworks were threatened with a lawsuit from the Monroe Estate Lawyers. They were forbidden from ever showing the ad anywhere into perpetuity -- to cease and desist the ad.

I retired from performing as Marilyn Monroe in '98. There were too many obstacles against me during my Marilyn Years ('83-'98). I became exhausted. I could not fight for it anymore. After doing shows, tours, tv appearances etc...for about 17 years, I felt it was finally time to let her go. As I like to say, "I think I did Marilyn longer than she did Marilyn."

During my Marilyn years in the mid 80s to mid 90s the world, in general, and the show business industry itself, was kind of close minded to a man in a dress - especially a man doing it as well as i was doing it. I felt I never got the respect I deserved for my special recreation of Marilyn. I was relegated to being a "look-a-like" - not an artist. I was a "female impersonator" - not an actor. Oh well...I tried my best.

Don't get me wrong, I had a spectacular and exciting career. The ride was fun! But I also had many monumental obstacles, legal and stereotypical obstacles that were too hard for me to overcome. While my l.a. Eyeworks campaign was being shut down into perpetuity by the Monroe estate lawyers, RuPaul's campaign was in full force. No one was shutting him down. Why? Because he OWNED his own likeness and image. The MM lawyer argued with me that I didn't own Marilyn's image or likeness for advertisements. Even though the ad contained a disclaimer stating it was "Jimmy James."

I never considered that my loving and respectful tribute to Marilyn was going to turn against me one day -- but it did. What once garnered me attention, accolades, sold out shows, tv appearances (I sang live, no lip sync) etc... was now dimming the lights right before my eyes.

I continued touring successfully in the clubs despite the fact that a certain nasty Monroe lawyer threatened to sue me for a percentage of all my club dates. This was very hurtful. It damaged my spirit and zest. I was beginning to realize that this venture was never going to take me very far. My Marilyn act was doomed.

One of my last triumph (as far as my Marilyn years were concerned) was making an appearance on a giant billboard in the middle of Times Square where I was featured as Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland & Bette Davis with Supermodel Linda Evangelista for a clothing campaign (1996). After that I played Marilyn for a couple more years. The LAST time I portrayed her was for my music video "Who Wants To Be Your Lover" (1998). I was done. It was over.

I retired Marilyn from my repertoire in 1998 and I never looked back. I have no regrets. During the Marilyn Years I amassed a very large archive of my Marilyn work. I'm working on a documentary of my 'Marilyn Years' to express the tragedy and triumph behind the boy who became Marilyn Monroe.

I still tour with my one man show of Voices. In 2007 I wrote, recorded and released a world-wide dance club hit entitled "FASHIONISTA" from my original album JAMESTOWN. The single climbed to the top of the BILLBOARD Dance charts. The song has been licensed to film and television. I own this music. Nobody can take this away from me.

In 2012 Greg Gorman and l.a. Eyeworks threw caution to the wind and unearthed the 22 year old photo now published in his new book 'FRAMED.'

It's now 2014 and the times have changed. People's attitudes towards a "man in a dress" have changed. The lawyers who represented Marilyn's estate seem to be no longer. But alas I don't wear dresses anymore. Been there - done that. Don't wanna do it again. It was a moment in time that will never be repeated.

What sweet revenge that an artist discovered and painted so many versions of this lost and forgotten image. An image that for 22 years was forced to be locked away and hidden into perpetuity.

Marilyn Monroe was a great artist who still to this day is bringing out the artist in so many of us.

People underestimate the power of selfishness. The only way that I am able to do anything extraordinary is because I believe I can do it and because I know I want to, not because I think others believe I can or because I think they want me to. And while everything I do that's of any importance is 100% for my own enjoyment, I can't remember the last time I did something for myself. 

The art world literally has no rules. I feel it a shame that I should desire rules when it is the freedom which drives contemporary creativity, but it's individuals such as Jeff Koons who consistently befuddle me with his iron-clad claim to present day greatness and his seemingly absolute absence of authentic artistic ability. He is a monument to the multi-million dollar marketability of well rehearsed art objects, but his ideas are rhetoric. They're no more than repeatedly recycled derivative painstakingly polished until their facade appears new again. And he is never the one doing the polishing, meaning that by purchasing one of Jeff Koons art objects, you are belittling an industry, scratch that, the ONLY industry in existence where individual creativity is still revered. You are transforming the world of contemporary art into a that of a factory. You are downgrading skilled artisans into cogs and gears, veritable slaves to an overlord CEO of a pretentious art mecca.  the only industry in existence that could  they are arguably the one thing that he could realistically refer to as artistry in this no-rule realm of ours. If the authors of 21st century art history wish to write... Unfinished thought

Art is "the world without rules". It is the product of a mind for a mind, and the definition of "good" is a hazy blur that never actually comes into focus. Realizing how subjective art is, how it is "absolutely" subjective, is the single most quintessential milestone in any artists life because that is when the artist gains perspective. They make one of two choices. Many decide that a world without rules is an absurd notion and because they can't attach themselves to a predetermined system in order to rise in the ranks like you can with every other profession or practice, they give up and begin a new quest. And then there's the true artists, the ones who say, now that I know, I can finally be me. If art is subjective then the only opinion that matter is my own. Even the opinions of the greatest great great masters who are revered throughout the world... are just opinions and are therefore disposable because the true value of art is integrity.

In a facebook conversation, a friend expressed her interest in traveling, so I said "buy a ticket". The next comment was the worst possible cliche adage ever written, spoken, inscribed, thought, or smoke signaled. Their comment read as follows; "It's like the guy who kept praying, "PLEASE let me win the lottery....PLEASE!!!" God answered him, "You have to buy a ticket."...

Normally, I keep my oppinions to myself, but lately I've loosened my lips some which allowed a word or two to sneak past the flood gates. This is what got through:

Winning the lottery isn't guaranteed. It's almost a joke because the odds are so low. I wouldn't compare the two. If all you want to do is travel however, there's a similar inspirational story you probably never heard where the guy told God "I want to go to Tahiti," but he didn't do it in a prayer. Instead, he did it by buying a ticket. God listens to actions like they're being whispered through a blowhorn. He can't ignore them. God responded to this confident gesture by advising the guy with two simple words "have fun." The moral of the story is that God will never wish anything of you that you won't wish for yourself. And since it is in a beggars nature to beg "PLEASE. PLEASE... give me. let me. show me, I want..." God's response is never to give him $1,000,000 let alone a ticket. The beggar will continue to beg. That being said, God is not afraid to give to you what you give to yourself. God will give you a lottery ticket if you buy a lottery ticket, but God will also make sure you are aware of the odds. He knows that at some point in your life, you have seen and will have remembered the near impossibility of winning because only one in 175 million people win the lottery. God does not play favorites, and because of that he can only provide you the same odds as the other 174,999,999 people who didn't beg, but instead, bought the ticket. If you want to travel, the odds that a ticket to Tahiti will take you to Tahiti are exactly 100%, so long as you follow through and continue to pray with your actions. Let us know when you buy a ticket.

What is it about you that draws me near?

Call me crazy, but I believe in the importance and power of well placed selfishness. To do something for others because it feels good to you is the cornerstone of progress.

How much is your time worth?

Inside, I feel empty. It is because of this connection with emptiness that I dedicate my life to searching. My search is different from that of others however, because my search is an internal one. This I suspect to be immediately untrue though because the mere act of separating oneself from anything, regardless of perceived connection is in itself a flawed act. Consider this; to speak of one thing is to speak of all things, and to speak of an internal is to reference the absolute relevance of an external within a given discourse. Therefore, to search within, one must look outside. The self is in itself neither separate nor singular.

It seems to me that everything of importance, both monumental and mild acts of importance, begin within the fervent sparks of a personal plan; which is to say that every life destined to mean anything at all, must at some point lock itself into an absolute and moreover concise statement of purpose.

World, I disagree with you. I disagree with a sincerity and passion seldom found upon your surface. You and I have never actually been in full agreement, but as of late, the distance between our personal perspectives has grown so great that if I could summon the strength to sprout wings right now, I would.  And without skipping a beat, my feet would spring from your surface leaving our disagreements to fade into the distance between us.

A gun is a device that was created for the purpose of launching a tiny projectile hard enough and fast enough into and out of a living body with little or no effort. This is an act that is for all accountable purposes, impossible to do on one's own. Defend the guns existence if you must, but I believe that given the awe inspiring amount of effort a woman must undertake in order to create life, it is only right to limit the ease at which it can be taken.

Bees have no malintent. They go to work. They get thirsty. They are curious sometimes too. But they don't desire a good kamikaze against your ass. Like us, they defend themselves. Bees are like us. When I see a bee. I wave hello. If it comes close, my hand and the bee do a slow waltz, and never do I shoo the bee or swat the bee. Hell, I don't even curse at the bee. I treat it with respect, greet it, and let it go on with its day.

A few curious facts about bees: http://ag.arizona.edu/pubs/insects/ahb/inf4.html

All dolled up, dressed to the nines, D cap, smart vest, socks and shoes to match, yet somehow stuck in my new abode. Rain falls. The sun sets. Cold air defies the glass panes of my bedroom windows. A subtle chill builds.

My day began less than three hours ago. The time was 16:00. I Fell asleep at 2:00. Nobody needs that much sleep. Jet lag or not, it's simply unnatural. But once again, I rebel. Normality, I hwark and launch an arching spit in your face. Savor that you flavorless bitch...

I live. I wake in the morning. Upon waking, I sit up, I breathe, I look, I touch, and I smell the world around me. I eat and drink. I taste what I eat and drink. And I consider everything. Often however, I fail to understand what I consider. I accept my stupidity.

There was once a time when I believed myself to be intelligent, not nearly as intelligent as those around me seemed to believe themselves to be, but intelligent nonetheless. I felt aware of my surrounding as though they were controllable and I became rather proficient at controlling them or at least doing what I imagined to be me controlling them. I was a conquering protagonist in the theatrical role of my life; that is, not the role of my life, but rather, the role of a man living his life wherein the man in question is me.