Brooklyn 1974 - I remember a lot of snow, signs, papers, metals, big storefront signs, trucks and cars outside the shop, etc. Everything seemed like we didn't belong. My family and I were new to the neighborhood and it seemed like we were the only ones.
We were in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn and my family had come here that year from Argentina so many years ago now. It shaped everything we are and have been since. The American experience!
Starting a new business, nothing else in hand, my parents hardly spoke a word of English and the majority of people around here were Italian Americans. I learned that my family was also from Italy, the generation before the one that was Argentina. We tried to fit in.
Color Signs, the sign shop my father and mother built was our family livelihood and I couldn't care less. I hated signs, I hated paints, there was absolutely nothing I could find nothing positive about the stress of living around the corner from your family business where we lived and breathed it 24/7.
I rejected the idea that I could also paint or make letters. NO WAY! How would I ever be as good as my father or my grandfather who were amazing sign painters and artists in their own right.
Yet here I am so many years later curious about hand lettering and what it's all about. This is the beginning of my journey as a "sign painter"? Hand letterer? Not sure what you'd call it but the exploration of a potential lineage of skill that I have recently discovered in my hands and on my mind.
I don't know what this will bring but I'm already thrilled and curious about the latent discovery of something I already love....for my own. Come with me....