“Y’know what the Talmud says? When someone’s comin’ to kill ya, get up early, kill ‘em first!”
Hey there, my name is Eddie McClintock.
I was born in Canton, Ohio, more years ago than I care to think about. I’m an actor who, over the past twelve years, has made over forty-five guest appearances on over twenty-five different shows, has done ten pilots, starred in five network series, worked on several television movies...blah...blah...blah!!! And, as luck would have it, I was in TWO of USA Today’s Top 10 Worst Films of 2002; The Sweetest Thing and Full Frontal (I figure if you can’t be on the VERY best list, the VERY worst is the next best thing, right?! I mean, in Hollywood, it’s all about getting ON the list). I guess I like to think of myself as “one of the most successful anonymous guys in the business (again, a little denial, carefully cloaked in a fun, anecdotal proverb).”
For as long as I can remember, I’ve doodled, drawn, sketched and painted. My family would go out to dinner; I’d draw till the food came. If I was bored in class, I’d draw till the bell rang. Happy, draw. Sad, draw. In love or heartbroken, draw. For a great portion of my life, drawing has been one of my favorite emotional disappearing acts. It has been one of my best friends and my most faithful girlfriend (that is until I met my wife, who is the most loyal person I know). Through the years, it has saved my ass again and again, helping me to express myself without being consumed by other means, although I’ve fought those battles as well.
It all started with Herb Trimpe and The Incredible Hulk. Herb drew my favorite version of the Hulk for several years and for some reason, I was drawn to it (no pun here). I loved Godzilla! The way he walked into Tokyo (too cool to run) and turned everything to ash. Nothing could stop him! I remember dreaming about what it would be like to stand at his feet and look up at his awesomeness. I began to draw Godzilla at the tops of my test papers at school, illustrating the destroyed buildings, the flames, the menace! In 1975, at the tender age of eight, I saw Jaws and Rollerball (It’s okay dad, it made me who I am.”) Suddenly, I was consumed with drawing divers with legs missing and Great White sharks closing in to finish their “business.” Then there were the Rollerball “scenarios.” Motorcycles with spiked tires, running over men, blood spurting as their anguished cries went unnoticed (Oh yeah, “easy listening” for the eyes)! I was a child psychologist’s dream come true! Look, don’t get me wrong, I liked The Fonz and Laverne & Shirley just as much as the next kid, but if I had my way, it was the late-night horror film no questions asked. In light of my graphic artistic expression at such a young age, it was decided that it would be in my best interest to have a specialist attend class and study my behavior. At the end of the “study,” it was concluded that I had ADD and no noticeable artistic ability. Ha, what the hell did they know??!! Okay, so maybe I have some ADD. Add that to the fact that I was going to Catholic school, and you have the recipe for a long line of misconceptions by those who were supposed to be teaching me (the nuns) and a lot of painful experiences that would later be used to fuel my creativity (Hey, you get a lemon, you make lemonade).
By the time I made it to high school (I left Catholic school in the eighth grade. They were going to kick me out for “mooning “ a bus with a bunch of kids in it anyway, so I left and moved to North Canton with my dad), my art had become a bit more sophisticated, but still had a bend toward the macabre. I don’t know why these things fascinated me, I just knew I’d rather draw something that scared the hell out of me than something that involved “prancing horses and flower petals.”
At North Canton, I had an amazing art teacher (Ty Palmer, R.I.P.), who really encouraged me, a great artist named David Evanoff, who helped me to develop different skill sets (airbrush, blending pencil, pen and ink, etc.) and a bit of natural talent (despite what the “crows” back at St. Michael’s had to say). I guess you could say I flourished.
So, off to college I went (although I remember my Algebra teacher taking me out in the hall, putting his arm around me and saying, “You know Eddie, college isn’t for everybody.” “You ever think about getting a job with the North Canton Parks and Recreations?” “They give you your own truck (bright orange) and the hours are good.” (I pictured myself in a florescent orange pick-up, out in the middle of some park, Taco Bell wrappers scattered everywhere, doing bong rips out of an old beer can) So...I went to college.
I was an art major my freshman year, but really spent most of my time drinking and trying to remember what I had done the night before. Yup, my art had taken a back seat to what was really important, chicks and beer. I also started catching a lot of grief from some of the older guys on my wrestling team about spending so much time in the Creative Arts building (apparently there were some homosexuals mincing about in there. Oh my!) And then one day I saw a Starving Artists Sale on television and it all became very clear to me. After looking at some of those amazing pieces, I thought, “What the hell am I doing?” “I sleep through most of my classes, the guys on the wrestling team think I’m a sissy and I can’t draw or paint half as well as these amazing artists who are apparently, starving!” So...I gave up my art and got a B.A. in Business Communications (whatever that means).
I may have given up on my dream of making a living as an artist, but I never gave up on my appreciation of the works and individuals I was so fascinated by. Salvador Dali, M.C. Escher, H.R. Giger, Mark Ryden, Keith Haring, Maui and Son’s Rick Rietveld, Mad Magazine’s Don Martin. These were the guys who “walked the walk and talked the talk,” the guys who kept my art alive all those years.
And so I moved through life, drawing and tucking things away for safe keeping, hoping that one day, maybe, it could be shown and appreciated.
Now, thanks to the good fortune of Warehouse 13, the insistence of my friends and family and my ego’s ever-nagging desire to see if someone might actually pay to own one of MY pieces, I present you with ETM 369, my artist website.
Thank you so much for looking, I hope something you see, affects you (whether you buy it or not).