Statement

Pulsating like a big heart, almost musically rhythmic, flashes of color streaking by, lights blinking and glaring, horns blowing, engines revving, trains rambling, the smells of every culture pouring from cafes and restaurants, ever terrestrial surface transversed by rivers of humanity that flood and continually renew New York – the inspiration for Bob Leach.

Leach’s paintings are shouts, not whispers. His subjects are not conventional beauties. A trongs nose blossoms from wine-flushed cheeks, aggressively swelling lips grimace wryly, deep-set eyes gaze out of streetwise faces, unsettling, vaguely telepathic. Leach is an artist of the people. He speaks a language we all understand whether we admit it or not. “This isn’t Nirvana,” they seem to say. “ This is LIFE. Welcome to NEW YORK.” He really LIVES life, and it shows.