The Origins of Mister Never...

At the age of 10 I moved into Westbrook, Maine public housing with my mother, half sister and half brother. With little to no male role models and even fewer friends I looked to the adolescent male fantasy in comic books for direction. There I found solace in the life of millionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, orphan and heir to the Wayne fortune.

Bruce Wayne didn’t have super powers but he did have all of the things I could only dream about, money, cars, girls, friends, and most importantly, Bruce Wayne had Batman. Bruce Wayne didn’t have parents constantly talking them selves up by talking the other parent down. He didn't have parents at all and it made him a stronger person. By 11 my mind was made up, when I grew up, I wanted to be Batman… (or a ninja, but I think every adolescent boy wants to be a ninja.) Countless Junior High School nights were spent fantasizing about exacting vigilante style revenge on my grade school tormentors. I would stand up for all the nerds, geeks, dweebs, and all around losers in my school… maybe husky, awkward Greg Burdett could be a hero. Fortunately these were only the fanciful dreams of one spineless kid living in a pre Columbine world. With no martial arts training or access to stun guns, swords or other various weapons, I found an outlet for my fantasies in drawing. Every day I would come home from school to study human anatomy books and trace perspective drawings from comic books. If I couldn’t be Batman, I could a least draw him and realize my own fantasy. After months of practice my drawings got better and through drawing I started to have a small voice.

At 13 I left my mothers for the small city of Leominster, Massachusetts where my father, 2 aunts, uncle and grandmother were born and raised. This wasn’t my first time in Leominster. Over the past two summers I had lived with my father and attended summer camp in a nearby town. Unlike my hermit like life in Maine, I had friends in camp. And so my desire for friendship and acceptance by my peers would become the major catalyst for leaving my mothers. Also, my father, though not rich, didn't live in public housing or use food stamps. Here was the perfect opportunity to change my life. Here was a chance to be one step closer to achieving my adolescent dreams of becoming Batman. Unfortunately you can never escape yourself and my new classmates must have smelled low-income comic book geek with low self-esteem coming from a mile away.

Much like my 8th grade life with my mother had been, so my 9th grade life with my father had become. Luckily, this story is fairly common among teenage boys and by sophomore year I had amassed a small group of somewhat loyal friends.

Sometime in my junior year, a colorful magazine was being circulated row by row throughout the classroom without the teachers notice. After waiting patiently in anticipation my turn had finally arrived. What I had originally though a comic book was actually a graffiti magazine called Skills. Every page was filled with colorful photographs of spray painted trains; walls and whatever else the artist felt would be an adequate canvas. I was completely captivated by the colors, letters and intricate characters that were being painted across the world. From that day on, my friends and I emulated every graffiti magazine and book we could find. Our notebooks were soon filled with all variety of 4th rate tags and bubble letters. However, unlike many of my classmates, I was at an advantage as the lessons I had learned tracing comic books put me ahead of the graffiti learning curve. The small voice that had developed when I was younger was growing louder every day.

Deciding on Never as my alias, I was quickly making friends and receiving praise for my talents at drawing and painting graffiti. Soon I wasn’t just writing Never, I was Never. These people didn’t know about the insecure kid from Maine that I was, they only knew the mysterious vandal and graffiti artist I had become. It seems that through graffiti art I had finally found my Batman.

Unfortunately even Batman needs a day job and after graduating from High School I attended culinary school where I put my creative talents to good use. However, I soon discovered the life of a chef involved little creativity and even less art. While my nights were spent writing and drawing on any and everything that crossed my path, my days and evenings were spent miserably slaving over a hot stove. After a year and a half of dividing my time between school, work and graffiti I didn’t feel any closer to my goal. If Never was my Batman, then I, like Bruce Wayne, would need to train my body, mind and soul. I would need focus. I would need discipline. I would need a place to grow as an artist and an individual.

After working on the front lines and in the trenches of a fine dining kitchen, developing my technique and my sense of taste, I quit my job, left culinary school and started the journey to receiving my BFA from the Massachusetts College of Art. With no formal art training except what I had learned from comic books and graffiti, I worked full time and attended community college part time where I built an impressive portfolio of perspective drawings, watercolors, oil paintings and figure drawings. As was with learning to write graffiti, I was once again ahead of the learning curve and admitted to Mass Art on early decision.

A little older and more experienced then many of my fellow students, I easily understood the irony of Piero Manzoni’s Merda D’Artist and the intellect of Warhol’s essays. I discovered the hidden messages of Renaissance paintings and learned to love Rauschenberg’s White Paintings. I even learned to decipher the cryptic messages in my work. In short, Never, no longer a juvenile graffiti writer satisfied with painting his name or just drawing a picture had grown up and received the direction he was looking for. Most importantly I, Greg Burdett, discovered a group of friends who respect, understand, and support me to this day.

I am Bruce Wayne painting a portrait of Batman... I am Mister Never.