I created my first billboards as props for my photography. My M.O. at the time was to render photorealistic drawings of people and animals on sections of cardboard and place them in actual environments with actual people. The photograph was always a straight shot; any abnormalities occurred in front of the camera lens. At one point I started including billboards in the shots; I would create an 11 x 22 foot drawing beforehand and cover the billboard advertisement with it. After I'd finished shooting a picture I would generally abandon the props at the scene. This naturally included the billboards. These billboards eventually caught the attention of the young painters coming up in Dallas at the time. While I'd viewed my billboards as mere props for my photographs, the painters saw the act of usurping billboards and replacing them with works of art as a grand way to get their art seen. Jeff Robinson, an aspiring young painter, proposed the concept of billboard events. Together we formed a loose network of artists we called The New Urban Aesthetics Committee and set about staging bimonthly billboard events in various cities around Texas. The basic concept was to scout a location and mail out a map of the location and a time and date to the artists along with instructions on size, materials, etc. We tried to get started around eight in the morning. Working during daylight hours made us appear more credible. There was the occasional night raid where we would turn out the lights on the billboards and go to work but I always considered this more risky. If we were spotted at night there would be no doubt that we were up to no good. During the day we were easily spotted and easily taken for guys doing their job. When possible we would throw a party or rather an art opening underneath the billboards later in the evening. Over the next couple years we happily disrupted the persistent corporate ballyhoo with a little artistic free expression. With every event our little group expanded a little more until one fateful day in 1984. The event was to be held in Dallas, home turf to most of the group. I brought up a crew from Austin where I was attending graduate school at the time. We rode up in Jon Marshall's van with Charles Tunstall, Stuart Swartz, and John Hendrix. I'd personally created five new billboards for the event. The others had created one each. Stuart had designed weird clothes for us to wear at the event. They were flourescent with DEAD ARTIST stenciled across them. Joining me from Austin were reporters for Utmost magazine who had also created their own billboard and a performance troupe that had a "surprise" planned. In all I was aware of twenty-four billboards that had been created for the event. I'd heard there were more. That was the biggest influx of new people so far. I'd brought along a 4x5 camera and plenty of film to document the event. Our crew was the first to arrive, and we immediately set to work. I wanted to get our billboards up quick so I could be free to document the event. Things were rolling along smoothly. The first billboard up was one of my designs that read THE GREAT OUTDOOR ARTSHOW Made possible by a generous grant from The Randal Hart Foundation. Randal Hart was my code for vandal art. I'd hoped this billboard might dispel any suspicions that might arise as the spectacle escalated. Charlie had taken control of the posting of our group's billboards so I climbed down to get my 35mm camera and get some shots. No sooner had I retrieved my camera out of Jon's van when the Utmost crew arrived. I assigned them a billboard and two of them climbed up. The third was videoing. Then James Roe and Jennifer Hocknetter arrived with their billboards, followed moments later by eight squad cars. Charles and the crew were posting billboard number eight, which faced the opposite direction, so the police didn't spot them. I was busy trying to explain to the small crowd of law enforcement officers about the Randal Hart Foundation, how we'd received a grant, how everything was on the up and up, when another cop car arrived with a police photographer. One cop was trying to get me to explain what exactly it was that we were protesting while the one with the camera walked billboard to billboard snapping pictures until he stumbled upon Charlie's crew. Now they had eleven of us. They continued to grill us. Others began to arrive and we discreetly motioned them on. They kept driving. My crew stuck to The Randal Hart story. The questions persisted for about an hour until one of the guys from Utmost magazine, who was also caught on a billboard, asked to speak to the cops privately. They obliged. He took them to his car and produced a brochure I'd created about the event complete with instructions on how to do a billboard. He pointed me out as the ringleader and then offered up his partner's video of us in action. He and his two cohorts were then let go. They jumped in their car and sped off. They didn't look back. The jig was up. The eight who remained were arrested and charged with second-degree felonies. None of us could afford a lawyer and you aren't allowed a public defender if you bail yourself out. The lawyers we did talk to explained that we would have to do a minimum of eight months in prison. And that was with a good lawyer. James' mother called the billboard company and pleaded with them to drop the charges on her son. No way that was going to happen. They were sick of the billboard bandits. The ones in our group who didn't have passports got them. We talked about all pitching in for one lawyer. James explained to me how his mother was at an impasse with the billboard company. I'd never even thought of contacting the billboard company. I figured it was worth a try. After a few calls they made me an offer; twenty-eight thousand dollars to drop all charges. I kept calling, pleading our case: We were poor students, we weren't attacking their company or the companies whose ads we'd covered up, we were going to do hard time. Eventually he cut the figure in half. I explained it didn't make much difference to seven guys and one girl who couldn't collectively afford the eight hundred dollar lawyer's retainer fee, much less their hefty price. I thanked him for trying to help us out and resigned myself to our fate. At the eleventh hour I received a call from the guy at the billboard company. Eight hundred dollars and they'd drop charges. We came up with the money. The state could still press charges but they didn't. I received a call from the Dallas police. They wanted me to come and get the billboards they'd confiscated. Stuart and I drove up to Dallas to get the billboards. They also returned our rollers and glue. Mistake. We drove back to Austin where we posted the returned art on billboards owned by another company. After they were successfully posted we got a case of beer and officially retired as billboard pirates.

Three hours later the case of beer was finished and so was our retirement. We loaded paint into the back of my truck and headed out to a couple of Stucky's billboards outside Austin. It wasn't long before our efforts were interrupted by the police. This time we got away.

It's been over twenty years since my first billboard and I'm still at it-and why not? It's the ultimate form of free speech, no censors, art directors, editors, corporations, just direct engagement with the public. I've been involved with the liberation of over a thousand billboards at this point, each one a unique hand-painted work sacrificed at the altar of the collective conscious. They cannot be owned and they cannot survive. They are finite moments consumed in a quick glance. At their best they outrage the complacent sensibilities of the viewer; at their worst they temporarily sidetrack the thought continuum, sending it off into an unexpected direction, if only for a moment.