DELMAS HOWE 1935 El Paso, Texas 1

Leather, tobacco and whisky: Behind the art of legendary artist Delmas Howe Iconic queer artist Delmas Howe opens his studio and shares why he loves to capture and celebrate the male form in his art. INTERVIEWS2 JANUARY, 2020. WRITTEN BY FI CONNORS. Fi Connors and her partner, the ‘Brunette’ took a road trip across the US to visit the startlingly original artist Delmas Howe in his studio to find out just what inspires his unique genius. It would prove to be the perfect example of why you should meet your idols. It’s a hot day setting out for Truth Or Consequences. Yes, you read that name right – we are on the road barreling towards this distant, oddly named town in New Mexico, our hair blowing in the wind. As a homage to AA Gills’ Blonde, my partner – the Brunette is sitting on the air conditioned seat beside me… with every window in the jeep down. She is way too excited, her eyes glued to the road, laughing off the ‘leaping deer’ road signs, driving ever so increasingly “gently” over the speed limit. We are late, and on our way to meet one of her art heroes for tea and a chat. Well, coffee and a chat. This IS America after all. The desert has a strange feeling of being almost dream-like in the way sand meets sky. It is arresting, disorientating and profoundly calming all at once. As the hours pass we feel horizon-tipsy, then horizon-drunk. This trip to Truth Or Consequences are not borne out of madness. And yes, before we even begin with the wonderment that is this interview, here are some quirky facts to do with this approaching location; This town changed its name from Hot Springs to Truth Or Consequences for a dare. On a Fool’s Day April 1 challenge, in the year 1950. The horror master-writer Stephen King, who lives very far away in much cooler climes in Bangor, Maine, holds the key to this minuscule city (population 6,500-ish). Richard Branson owns a Virgin Galactic launch station somewhere between here and another few miles of yellow desert. He intends to start commercial flights into the close reaches of space in the near future. I feel relieved there are no official timelines as yet. I will start saving my pennies. We rock up to Main Street, Truth Or Consequences with five minutes to spare. The Brunette is beside herself and is now speedily trying to pull herself together. She applies lip gloss and tousles her hair. She has been a fan of Delmas Howe since she was gifted a mural of his by her favourite aunt. Her fingertips have traced this mural every day for the last few years. She is now about to meet the living artist in the flesh. I smooth down my hair and try to become dignified and deserving of the title of ‘Irish Journalist’. The main street is unassuming. A ribbon of tarmacadam lies baking in the sun, a few nondescript buildings holding each other up in the glare. We knock on the red door. Delmas Howe answers. The Brunette tries not to squeal. After the hello’s, and great we- made-it’s, Delmas Howe leads us gently inside to the