KOKOMO JR., or Kokomo Fils as he prefers to be called, was relaxing in his studio with an aperitif and a cigaret. There was a Left Bank air about his striped apache shirt and his gay beret but Kokomo was in anything but a jovial mood.
"Nom d'un nom!" he snarled, "all of a sudden everyone is interested in art."
We explained our mission. In Baltimore, the zoo boasts a 7-year-old chimp, Betsy, who is making money hand-over-paw by selling paintings. We had heard that Kokomo...
Kokomo sneered, showing even rows of yellow teeth. "It is to laugh," he said in the accent he brought here from French Equatorial Africa. "For years the great artists of the world have struggled to buy a crust of bread and a flask of wine and now a mere finger-painter, a dauber, seeks to join their illustrious company."
He leaned forward and snapped, "You know something of art?"
Well, we did see Faith Bacon a few times...
"No, no!" he interrupted. "I mean, do you know of Matisse and Picasso? Who are your favorite painters?"
Jan Vermeer and C. D. Batchelor primarily...
KOKOMO waved us to silence. He looked ceilingward and closed his eyes as though searching for patience. "You know of my work?" he asked.
We had heard he was a painter and we presumed his creations were on a par with Betsy's.
Kokomo Considers The Comparison Odious
"Sacre bleu!" he bellowed. "You dare compare me with a finger-painter? Only two days ago I did a chiaroscuro study called 'Evolution,' actually my impressions of Darwin, and sold it to a patron, one Norman Brook, of San Antonio, Tex., for $60.
"But it was brushwork, not finger-painting. It had depth and character. It was not the idle smear of a spinster chimpanzee."
We hastened to placate Kokomo. We had heard, we said, that he had dashed off a fine work of art in a matter of minutes on a TV show. How come, by the way, that he was a TV personality -- why didn't he devote more time to art?
He gave a gallic shrug and his features broke into a sheepish smile.
Shows One of His Works -- What It Looks Like
"I don't believe in starving in a garret," he said. "I am saving up for the day when I can leave the show in charge of an assistant and go off to Italy for serious study."
He whipped the cover off an easel and whispered, "Now, what would you say that is?"
We said it looked like an octopus battling a starfish in a bagful of excelsior.
"You would be drummed out of Mme. Albert's bar on the Place de L'Odeon for such heresy," he hissed savagely. You are a barbarian."
We said defensively that it wasn't something we'd expect to find on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel...
"It's in the Miro tradition, you fool," said Kokomo. "It's non-objective." He burst into a long harangue. Corot was too misty, he said. Rubens was fatuous. Monet was good in his way and Michelangelo was a perfectionist.
Modernist Puts the Old Masters in Their Place
"But we moderns have outstripped the old masters," he said rather pompously. "They were more or less photographers. Did you know, by the way, that I have been compared to Toulouse-Lautrec?"
WE had the impression that Toulouse-Lautrec was a shade taller and that he wore a derby, mustache and glasses...
"Artistically, not physically," said Kokomo testily, "but I digress. You came here to inquire about finger-painting. Well, finger-painting is for kids. It's a method of expression for the young. Perhaps this Betsy will develop into a true artist. Who knows?"
Expects Fame to Arrive After He Has Departed
Kokomo waved a hairy arm to encompass his studio. "One day," he predicted, "My works will hang in the Metropolitan along with Rembrandt, Gainsborough, Whistler and the rest. Perhaps I won't be here to hear the praise, for most painters achieve stature only after they're dead, but..."
You have a ways to go, Kokomo. How old are you now?
Kokomo tried to shrug off the question but finally he put his thumb in his mouth and whispered, "Eighteen months."
Too young for Betsy.
photo captions
Kokomo Fils delivers an artistic critique on Baltimore's Betsy.
"Wonder if I could make the grade by cutting off an ear?"
"Working on detail is like filing an income tax."
"That agency sends me the craziest models."
"Here's my check! Garcon! Cognac for everyone!"