Omar’s Art

Omar Vizquel dangles a paintbrush in his throwing hand as he leans against the railing and admires the spectacular view of San Francisco Bay from his Russian Hill penthouse, where the walls and floors are covered with his works in progress: a tribute to the pope, a Christlike figure and a reclining nude.

Not a bad setting for an aspiring artist who also happens to be the city’s star shortstop.

“This place makes me stay at home all the time,” says Vizquel, who cleans his brushes in a stained plastic Indians cup -- a memento from his 11 seasons with Cleveland before the nine-time Gold Glover joined the Giants this season.

“Can you beat this view?” he asks, a gentle breeze coming in through the open door some 200 feet above the street. “I go outside and take a look at the city. I don’t have to go out. I can stay at home all day and I don’t get bored.”

Vizquel typically paints for two hours each morning. He only uses oils and often looks at pictures of people from books or magazines to guide him. He has up to six paintings going at once, choosing to work on the one that inspires him at the time.

He doesn’t do landscapes -- or anything involving his sport.

“I paint because I want to get away from baseball,” he says. “If I paint baseball, I’m going back to baseball and I wouldn’t be relaxing as much.”

Vizquel has been a great fit for San Francisco, where for years the Giants lacked a sure-handed shortstop with his kind of speed and talent. He helped the Indians reach the World Series in 1995 and 1997, but left after last season as a free agent. The Giants signed him to a $12.25 million, three-year contract in November.

He has impressed his new bosses since the first spring training workout when he fielded grounders with the same ease he’s shown for years. He amazes his teammates every day -- doing splits in the air to turn double plays, or leaping to snag line drives.

There’s definitely an art to the way he plays, and it’s not surprising he’s good at other things that require a steady hand.

“Bum bum bum, bum bum bum,” Vizquel hums while he adds shadowing to a woman’s features, light music playing in the background.

“The light side and the dark side, kind of like the ‘Star Wars’ movie,” he says, explaining his process.

The view behind him? The Bay Bridge and Coit Tower atop scenic Telegraph Hill.

“This could be one of the most inspiring places to write, to paint, to perform music -- a lot of things,” Vizquel says. “This is beautiful.”

His longtime friend, Manuel Mejia, watches from across the room, filming for a documentary he’s making back home in their native Venezuela.

Mejia and Vizquel played on the same Little League team starting when they were 10. They won the national title at ages 12 and 16.

“I wanted to be shortstop, but I had to settle for second base,” says Mejia, referring to being beaten out by Vizquel as a kid.

Painting is still a relatively new passion for Vizquel, who wasn’t into art as a child. He began playing baseball at age 3.

After the 1994 season -- his first year in Cleveland -- was cut short by a strike, Vizquel needed something to do. He went to an art store and bought his supplies.

“It was a late-blooming thing,” he says. “I never had it in my mind. For some reason, it got to me. I liked art but I never thought about doing anything. It’s awesome. I just enjoy it so much. You never know what kind of talents you have. You have to experiment. Sometimes, something cool comes out of it.”

Now, a pair of black baseball shoes sitting on the floor beneath one finished painting is about the only hint that the sport plays such a huge role in his life.

Whenever possible, Vizquel meets Venezuelan artists to “talk about art and how it relates to baseball.”

“I know there’s something there besides baseball,” Giant Manager Felipe Alou says. “It looks like anything he wants to get into he would be successful. He takes baseball so seriously. I’m sure he has the same determination in anything he does. He’s not your average Joe in this game.”

Since receiving a digital camera from his wife last Christmas, the 38-year-old Vizquel also has been trying his hand at photography. He shoots pictures of the city at night, or of his 9-year-old son, Nicholas. When he saw a huge group of people riding their bikes naked in a protest, he took some shots.

“He never let fame transform him,” Mejia says. “I’m impressed he became such a good artist. Of course, he’s an artist in the field. I never saw him doubt he’d be in the major leagues. He always had a special instinct in baseball.”

Vizquel also plays the drums, though he keeps them at his Seattle-area home since the building he’s in requires quiet. He still spends the off-season in Washington, where he broke into the big leagues with the Mariners in 1989.

He once bought a saxophone, but doesn’t play it anymore. For Vizquel, being well-rounded is important.

“I like everything,” he says. “I like to do what people around me like to do. If you like wine, let’s get wine. If you like techno music, let’s go hear techno music. You never know what you can learn from diversity. Here is a typical example of just living your life.”

Vizquel feels at home in the Bay Area, where almost anything goes. He’s working to set up shows for his work in both San Francisco and Venezuela.

“I got some people hooked on this,” Vizquel says. “They didn’t know it would be a drug, addictive. It is a big escape. It just keeps calling you.”