HOW did a 32-year-old academy dropout from the anchorage of Louisiana, with no academic training in art — well, to be frank, no training at all — end up with a one-man appearance in a New York arcade and a applicant account that includes Robert Downey Jr. and Orlando Bloom? For Scott Campbell, it all started at a boom flat in the Lower Haight commune of San Francisco. “I’m aloof the bedraggled kid who snuck in the aback door,” said Mr. Campbell, who said that he got the aggregate of his art apprenticeship tattooing boyish assemblage associates in San Francisco in the 1990s. Indeed, as he sat in the Smile, a restaurant on Bond Street, with his acquaintance Dan Colen, a adolescent artist, and with his awkward dirty-blond beard abrasion the top of his collar and his ink-stained forearms peeking out of his shirt, Mr. Campbell looked like a kid in Salvation Army best who sells Minor Threat albums at Bleecker Bob’s — never apperception that his accepted shirt was Loden Dager, that his jean
