Artist Tiko Kerr yanks the door shut and pulls his van away from his 1000 Parker street studio. Hip-hop music blares as he rattles through road pits and weaves around erratic traffic. With every thud and screech, he glances backwards. He wants to be sure that nothing happens to Evermore , the painting he is delivering to the framers. Tiko parks and, with little ceremony, lugs in the canvas. Passers-by, though, 'ooo' and 'aaa' at his painting - the vivid blues and yellows, the intuitive architectural sense, the 'wonky rhythmic' style.

This is not your usual gallery piece. Tiko is donating Evermore to Arts Umbrella's Splash fund-raiser. The money it generates will help inner city kids get quality art lessons for free. Tiko is not just giving Evermore away. He will actually go to the auction, watch the black-tie crowd scrutinize his piece, then stand there while his beloved Evermore is held up on stage and thrown out to the mercy of the bidders. Sure Tiko is a popular artist, but even the best auctions are unpredictable. Every artist has their good and their bad years. Yet there Tiko will be, all eyes on him, waiting for paddles to rise and hammers to fall. Why would an artist open himself to such in-your-face judgment?

Tiko offers few answers as he leaves the framers and heads back to his van. Walk through the heavy metal doors of his studio, though, and you understand just how much Tiko cherishes the artist's life. You see why he is willing to risk public scrutiny if it will help introduce more kids to art.

Tiko's studio trills with the low street groove of Tupac Shakur. Eager paints line the walls, waiting to be squeezed. Big, fat brushes are poised for easy grabbing. Tilting bookshelves house rows of tattered journals. And everywhere lies the evidence - brilliant, beaming colour; bending, folding, twisting images. Paintings jostle for space along the concrete floors and walls.

There are examples of Tiko's early sketches, his 'midwinter primavera green' stage, his reconstructions of famous Vancouver landmarks. Bryan Adams has already claimed the Battersea Power Station, one of Tiko's new London series. Tiko's paintings have a vibrancy, a palpable sense of movement. "Everything has a life," he explains simply, "even inanimate objects have a spirit in the way they stand, the way the sun hits them. They take on personalities."

Tiko himself is brimming with personality. "I am basically solitary and shy," he claims. You would not know it, though, from his engaging manner and sheer strength of presence. Today, he is buzzing. He is exhilarated from his visit to the Hornby Island studio of his late mentor, Jack Shadbolt. He is raving about the "most amazing' architectural display at New York's Guggenheim museum. He is already planning his visit to the much-lauded Bilbao Guggenheim. " It flows, it takes off, it comes around. There is a wonderful balance, a little bit of poetry involved, "he says.

Tiko becomes even more animated when he describes his commitment to children and the arts. "I was an only child in Calgary," he says. "There weren't a lot of kids in the neighbourhood, so I used to draw a lot. Arts Umbrella parallels my own experience when a teacher encouraged me to go to a weekend art school." It was this foundation, Tiko believes, that gave him the courage to veer away from the sciences and pursue his first love: art. This, even if it meant living for awhile in a condemned building on Railway Street.

Tiko chose his Splash contribution Evermore from his Venice series, a success at the Heffel Gallery. One 'low-key chap' showed up at the opening and bought 7 of his paintings. The Venice series has been particularly meaningful for Tiko. As he painted, he was trying to deal with the death of both of his parents - first his Mother through illness, then his Father, hit by a cab soon after. "They were just the most important people in my life," he says. "They influenced me in absolutely every way."

Tiko's desk is indeed covered with family photos - there is Mum, Dad and little Tiko smiling under the Christmas tree, fishing, sharing a joke. "I came to the studio sobbing, grieving, getting it out," he says. " The more I felt, the more the paintings resonated."

Artist Brian Baxter suggested that shattered Tiko go to Cemetery island in Venice. He arrived in San Miguele in the midst of churning floods. Waves were splashing over the doors and into the churches. "It was sort of surreal," he says. Tiko waded in and found himself in a peaceful sanctuary. Diagalev, Stravinksy - the graves of great artists were veiled in flowers. Dramatic sculptures stood guard. "I was coming down a ramp," Tiko describes, "when my boot slipped out from me. I fell and winded myself. Suddenly the sun came out. I felt my mum's spirit come around me. The ground was steaming - it was like the dead were singing. The sky cleared and filled with amazing colour. I spent the day walking by myself and talking to my mother."

The next day a more serene Tiko set out exploring. Beset by more floods, soaked to the core, he kept getting lost. All routes seemed to take him back to the same, tiny street. Finally he decided to follow it and, at the end, discovered Santa Marzia fond Trapolin, a lovely cathedral. "It was as if it was forgotten," he says. "It was ancient, yet totally intact. It was almost as if the other buildings were trying to warm themselves around this beautiful cathedral." It is this scene that Tiko captured in Evermore.

How, though can Tiko watch such a profoundly personal piece bandied about in auction? "I used to think auctions were terrible things," Tiko admits. "Some went well; others I snuck out. It is terrible if it goes below market value - a few of those can ruin your reputation."

Tiko seems, though, to enjoy a little risk. When he was living in the South Seas, for instance, he was besieged by pirates, pummeled by a squall and thrown into jail twice - once for $3000 worth of parking tickets, once for refusing to allow authorities to kill his pet dog. Perhaps a little auction is nothing in comparison?

"Well," Tiko admits, "I can't stand there the whole time. People are looking at the art and looking to see how you are reacting. I will usually go in for a couple of pieces before mine." There are so many things, he says, that can affect auction price - placement, lighting, distractions, previous bids. Paintings about which he is most confident might go for less than those he doubts. "An auction," Tiko is warming up now, "is like dropping your clothes in the room and asking: how do you like it?"

It is Saturday morning - the day of the auction. "Today, I want to preserve my energy as much as I can," says Tiko. Preserving energy for Tiko means his daily mega-weight workout, home renovations, gardening and, of course, more painting.

Tiko starts two canvasses today, one a special commission for the fellow who bought half the paintings at his Heffel show. He has asked Tiko to paint his near-death experience in Switzerland where he was mountain-climbing, fell down a crevice and just hung there, suspended by ropes. Happily, he was rescued and emerged with a new view on life.

Tiko grabs the big brushes and slaps the canvas with a raw muscularity. "I have no control there," he says. "I just react quickly and immediately." For this moment, the auction is just a fleeting expectation. By 5:30., though, all thoughts are on Splash. Tiko irons, showers, shaves and drives in a ruckus of hip-hop to Granville Island.

6:15 and people are starting to arrive. With fresh-out-of -the-bag tuxes and beaded gowns this crowd is expecting succulent food and good art. When Tiko enters - head to toe black, earrings, all angles and open smiles - he attracts a crowd. "Tiko!" "How you been!" "Glad you came!"

Tiko chats graciously, then starts looking for omens. What happens in the auction, he says, is in the hands of the Gods. "It's close to a full moon," he notes, "so people are going to be crazed". "I found good parking, so that's another good sign." He pauses to weigh the evidence. "I'm feeling really good about the auction," he concludes and heads off for some champagne.

Art Director Ingunn Kemble has hung an impeccable show, with live auction works from fifty artists including Jack Shadbolt, Dale Chihuly, Toni Onley, hot new artist Lisa Birke, Larry Rosso, Tanja Gardner and Gordon Smith. Tiko's Evermore is spotlit in a high-profile location.

Tiko himself is surrounded by people. "I know that cathedral," one says. "Nice piece," says another. "I love your work. Is that how your arms get so big, through painting?" asks a third. Tiko, however, is wary around compliments. "When it is people I don't know, it might just be flattery. People seem to be connecting to the Venice theme, but you never know."

Tiko gets to roam a bit - a lively conversation with friend, Bruce Allen, a bit of food. Soon, though, It is 8:30. Auction-time is nearing. A few artists scurry by, heading for the coat-check. "Not staying?" Tiko asks one. "Not a chance," he answers. "He can't be there" whispers his wife.

The lights are flashing, people are streaming into the auction tent. Tiko agrees to watch, but he most certainly does not want the front-row seat he is offered. He starts to head for the back of the room, but decides to peak in from the hallway door instead. "I like the fresh air," he says, motioning vaguely to the open, front door.

Barry Scott, the auctioneer, is readying himself in the back. Tiko, meanwhile, is fanning his auction program and scanning the room. "I'm out of here", another exiting artist taps Tiko on the back.

"And now, the Tiko Kerr." Barry Scott is working the crowd, ready to go. People smile and clap. Some peek at Tiko, who is standing ramrod straight. Bidding starts at $5750. $6000. "Love it." says Tiko. $6250. $6750. Once, twice, sold to Bidder 'S'. More enthusiastic clapping, open smiles at Tiko. "Yes!" says Tiko. "I was hoping it would go between 5 and 6!"

"How do you feel, Tiko?" "Relieved, grateful and elated that it sold." Tiko is grinning broadly, his fists are unfurled, his easy laugh has returned. "Now," he confesses, "my perspective changes. I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop." He accepts champagne and the congratulations of strangers. Bidder 'S' is all smiles as she makes her way up to Tiko. "My husband is going to kill me!" she laughs. "I just love it. I love that it is Venice, and it works in our house. Great!" she laughs again as she heads off to settle her account.

"Cheers!" "Good work!" "I wanted it!" People are pumping Tiko's hand, slapping his shoulder as they head in and out of their auction seats. "Fantastic!" Tiko raves as the last piece is sold. The live art has raised a record-breaking $181,000. "Good for them!" he claps. Tiko pauses for one last look at the auction tent, spins on his heels and aims for the party room. "Now, time for some fun," he declares as he disappears into the giddy, dancing crowd.

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