Finding comfort in his creations

Alex Heravi has no immediate family.

Alex Heravi has no friends to speak of.

But Alex Heravi has his paintings.

And for him – and for now – that’s enough.

Welcoming a rare visitor to his studio, in an industrial park west of the Strip, Heravi apologizes for the lack of air conditioning on a triple-digit day.

Not that it matters.

After all, he paints at night, surrounded by a rainbow of acrylic paints and examples of his abstract art.

Besides, “when I paint, I sweat like crazy anyway,” he confesses.

And when Alex Heravi paints, he’s happy.

Inside his studio, word-punctuated canvases and headless mannequins, adorned with swirls of bright color, represent his “C’est La Vie” series, which he began in the 1990s.

Other paintings, from Heravi’s more recent “Fantasy” series, feature blocks of intricate, fanciful imagery that recall the works of Pablo Picasso, Joan Miro, Alexander Calder and Henri Matisse (at least in the latter’s “Jazz” mode).

When Heravi faces a blank canvas, “most of the time, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he says. “I like to surprise myself.”

The artist likens his mindset to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s advice to young Luke Skywalker in “Star Wars” – to “let go your conscious self and act on instinct.”

In other words, “let the Force be with you,” says Heravi, 57. “I truly believe in that. I think a true artist … you trust yourself, you believe in yourself and let it happen.”

Upstairs from the studio, there’s air conditioning – and a place to sit and ponder additional examples of his art, including a canvas painted with the words “Art is spoken here.”

Framed newspaper articles and photographs also attest to his lifelong devotion to art.

Then again, Heravi’s daily life reflects that dedication.

He lives in his upstairs gallery – the air-conditioned part of his upstairs/downstairs setup. (Instead of a security deposit, Heravi gave his landlord – a local attorney – one of his “C’est La Vie” creations, a fanciful tropical fish sculpture.)

And though he quit a lucrative job selling time-shares to concentrate on painting full time, Heravi hasn’t found the success, or acceptance, he’s been searching for since he traded stormy Seattle for sunny Las Vegas almost 12 years ago.

“I hated the rain,” Heravi says of the Pacific Northwest. “It depressed me so much. I had to leave because of the rain.”

In Las Vegas, “when I open that door in the morning and I see the sun … I love sun.”

Despite the change in climate, however, Heravi misses the opportunities he had in Seattle, where galleries displayed his works – sometimes alongside such giants as Andy Warhol and Robert Rauschenberg – and tech-savvy business executives bought his paintings for thousands of dollars.

By contrast, Heravi says, many Las Vegans “look at artists as a bunch of losers,” he says.

And because most locals “are not really into art,” Heravi wishes local casinos would dedicate a wall to Las Vegas-based artists, so tourists could discover their work. (In the meantime, those interested in Heravi’s work may email him at alexheravifineart@msn.com.)

Despite his difficulties connecting with art collectors, “I love Las Vegas,” Heravi insists. “I’ve fantasized about Las Vegas since I was a kid.”

That’s also when Heravi discovered art – and his attachment to it.

The son of a doctor who taught medicine at the University of Tehran, before the Islamic revolution, Heravi had a tutor who oversaw his art studies – and encouraged him to paint flowers, the artist recalls.

Heravi, however, preferred a more abstract approach, exasperating his tutor – and his family. Only an older cousin, a successful artist living in London, encouraged him to follow his creative impulses.

At 17, Heravi left Iran to move to Paris with his high school sweetheart. They married when he was 18 and left Paris so she could pursue her studies in chemical engineering – which took them to Montreal, then to New Haven, Conn., and finally to San Francisco, where his wife found a job.

Along the way, Heravi studied business and psychology and earned his U.S. citizenship.

In Northern California in the late ’70s, Heravi and his father ran a successful women’s clothing boutique – until a new mall opened nearby and drove them out of business.

Heravi’s marriage also broke up – and his brother, also a naturalized American citizen, was murdered during a visit to Iran. After that shock, Heravi’s father suffered a stroke, from which he never recovered.

Continuing the downward spiral, Heravi declared bankruptcy, faced a health crisis of his own – a bleeding ulcer – and eventually headed to the Seattle suburb of Bellevue to stay with a cousin, whose own marital troubles forced Heravi to fend for himself once again.

Down to his last $200, Heravi started washing and detailing cars for local auto dealers.

But the deaths of his father and his artist cousin prompted Heravi to pursue art in earnest.

That was in the ’80s.

Now, Heravi hopes to recapture some of the success he found during his Seattle years.

And he knows where to find the inspiration.

“Every time I feel down, I really go hug my paintings,” Heravi acknowledges, “and I say, ‘Thank you for being my best friend.’ ”

Contact reporter Carol Cling at ccling@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0272.