When Living And Art Come Together

There’s always a certain anticipation when Dan Taylor is spied from behind at one of the art exhibitions, symphony performances, community volunteer galas … or simply walking in the park. And why is that? It is probably because you’re guessing: “Which one of the over 100 pairs of whimsical eyeglasses will he be wearing today?”

It could also be that even short interactions with Taylor are likely to bring a burst of joie de vivre that the 61-year-old carries with him in his way of dressing, his brilliant art avocation, and in those delightfully playful spectacles.

Dan Taylor’s life and his personal style are living evidence that you are what you want to be—maybe not conventional, but that is just fine.

Some in Tallahassee know Taylor as the long-time IT consultant with the Florida Department of Children and Families, where he’s been since 2001. Yet most others recognize him as not only a creative visual artist, but also as a committed volunteer to dozens of arts and charitable organizations. Art, however, was not the path Dan Taylor seemed headed for.

“I was born in a small town in Illinois,” he says. “There was some music in our house, but art was not part of my growing up.” Instead, after a year at college where, he says, “I was struggling with the death of my brother and my own sexuality,” he dropped out and abruptly joined the Marine Corps. “My father said, ‘You what?’”

Taylor did well in the Marines, while not “seeing the world” as he’d expected, he did become an expert in computer communications. But, he says, he was a “loner,” and after six years in the Corps decided, “I needed to have a life.” In the civilian world, he worked in Washington, D.C., Texas, Jacksonville, and eventually cycled to Tallahassee. Art had not yet entered his life, but his life partner, Tony Archer, had. This year, the couple will have been together for 23 years.

Photo by Alicia Osborne

But art? Taylor says to chalk it up to quitting smoking. “I needed something to do with my hands.” He had enjoyed making “sculptural” arrangements with copper tubes in his front yard, but he decided if he could do it with pipes, why not try oils? And with a neophyte’s enthusiasm, he laid in supplies of oil paint. Taylor already was passionate about color, but he soon realized that acrylics were quicker to dry and held onto the color he was laying down in thick patches.

“I always loved abstract art, and that is how mine has evolved.” Self-taught with a few online videos for technique, he now is represented by Venvi Gallery in Tallahassee, has had solo shows at LeMoyne Arts, and shown at restaurants Sage and Il Lusso, and the Hotel Duval. But with a personality that vibrates with confidence and humility, Taylor offered himself up as a supporter of art in general. He has been president of the LeMoyne Arts Association; president and board member of Big Bend Cares which supports HIV and other services with its Artopia Auction; and board member and past chairman of COCA, an arts support entity, among many other community service organizations.

And what does one wear to the meetings and galas that an arts creator and devotee must attend? Taylor laughs as he points to “my Jimmy Choo python skin loafers, my cow-hair leopard-printed sneakers, or maybe my floral printed slacks? Or if it’s formal, I’ll definitely have a blazer, maybe pin-striped, or perhaps something in velvet or lamé.” He also says the pearl necklace he took to wearing a few years ago has become a “trademark” by which people recognize him.

At home, surrounded with eclectically curated cow-hide chairs, an Isamu Noguchi coffee table, and a cherished 200-year-old chest, Taylor’s abstract art fits in perfectly. “I still paint in my garage, but I find plenty of time for the Broadway musicals that come through and a little pickleball, too,” he says. 

Currently, though, the bit of art he is most proud of is a tiny tattoo—his first—peeking out on his wrist. “My mother died recently, and it represents the little faux tattoos the family would all put on when we got together in the summers. This one is permanent, though.”

And it goes with everything.