"What inspires you as an artist?"

This week, I had the privilege of spending some time with one of my clients up in Pittsburgh, PA. I really enjoy the social part of what I do. The actual creation of artwork is very much a solitary “in my headspace” kind of work, so balancing that intense introvert time with some extrovert social time is a very necessary and wonderful thing. During that time shared, my client Josh asked me a question: “What inspires you as an artist?” I gave my short answer, but I’ve been thinking about that question for the last few days and figured it would help if I wrote down my answer.

When I take the time to really think deeply about what fans creativity in me — what inspires me to create, I keep coming back to one primary thing: When I paint, I basically am attempting to play God. I am trying to create a perfect world, albeit just in my artwork. I know that’s just me. There are so many artists both now and through history who don’t look at their artwork like I do. There are artists like Goya who used their work to shock the viewer as he attempted to use his artwork to display the really horrors of war. He was amazing. But I wouldn’t want a Goya hanging on my living room wall. It would creep me out. Please hear me — I’m not devaluing art that is like that. I can see the value and really do appreciate the fact that because art can “get into the soul of the viewer”, art created to provoke or instruct or shock the viewer is an absolutely valid way to use art. That’s just not me.

When I paint, I basically am attempting to play God.

I am busy trying to Eden. No big deal, right? That sounds really crazy or immensely egotistical but that really is at the heart of what I’m doing. With my artwork, I’m trying to imagine a world where there is always beauty, where this is no war, no death or sickness or sadness, where there are no power-hungry politicians or narcissistic leaders. A world where swords are not beaten into plowshares because swords never existed I the first place. That’s the world I am trying to create with my artwork: the world I’m looking for. When people have looked through my gallery and say, “I love your work. There’s just something really calming about it”, I smile to myself. “Calming about it?,” I want to say. It’s Eden. That place still calls to us. I suspect we’re all trying to create that perfect world, and stumble all over ourselves and everyone else because we’re attempting to create a place that by definition is perfect, and we are not. How do we make a world where there is no selfishness when we are selfish, or a world where there is peace and tranquility when there is war inside our own heads?

The answer to that question deserves a very long book and not a blog post. But if you look back at my artwork posted here on my website, you can see that longing, that reaching out to a world I wish was real, which (maybe???) CAN one day be real? Until it is real, my goal is to live my life as if it were real...To treat people the way I would treat them were we to be living in one of my landscapes so to speak. I’m not very good at that because I’m a very selfish person and hurt people as often as I encourage them. But no matter how old I get and no matter what my life path has led me through to date, I cannot shirk the longing for that place. That place I’ve never seen or fully experienced, but I’ve felt it so very close from time to time. And those brushes with the sublime, with the utterly holy — that is what fuels my creativity. THAT is why I paint what I paint.

An Artist in Italy (Part 2)

Pacentro, Italy

I was talking to someone the other day and mentioned I’d just gotten back from visiting Italy, and he then asked me about the crowds. “It’s so touristy!” he said. “I want to go somewhere less crowded”. I get that, but the problem is not that there are too many tourists in Italy. The problem is that all the tourists are looking at the same instagram feeds while planning their itinerary.

One awesome thing I tried when planning my itinerary was how to work around the “Instagram affect”. So I googled “Less visited parts of Italy”. I discovered one of the least visited regions (by American tourists) is the region just east of Rome: the region of Abruzzo. So I checked it out. It looked beautiful — Lots of cool hilltop towns and lots and lots of mountains begging to be hiked and explored. So then I googled “most interesting places to see in Abruzzo”. And that sort of planning made for a wonderful time for us. Planning the itinerary this way, we discovered one of my very favorite towns (perched on a mountainside) called Pacentro. It was a friendly place for tourists, but not overrun by tourists at all. I heard no English conversation at all. If there were visitors, they were mostly Italian.

The problem is not that there are too many tourists. The problem is that the tourists are all looking at the same Instagram feeds while planning their itinerary.

This town is ancient, with narrow, stone streets winding their way up the mountainside to the castle. In the old part of town (where we stayed), there were no cars allowed on the streets (hard to fit a car on a 6’ wide “street”!) Joy and I loved this place. In the morning, we’d open the windows and hear the jovial conversation of neighbors. When we’d come back in the evening, we’d grab something to cook at the local (very small) grocery store and then go back home and cook dinner. But then — in Italy, after dinner there is a ritual: the passeggiata. This is when the whole town walks around and meets their friends at one of the cafe’s for a coffee or a glass of wine. Joy and I walked across town to the small park overlooking a large valley below, and then slowly made our way back home, passing the main piazza filled with people sitting, chatting, and laughing quietly. Understand, this is not a nightly “party”. They’re not at all being loud. They’re just all seemingly enjoying each other. In Pacentro, I heard no TV on at all. As an American, if I were home at 8:00 PM, I’d be watching Netflix. Instead, these people were sitting around the fountain in the piazza, sitting on doorsteps, sitting in outdoor cafe’s — all just spending time with each other. This seemed really beautiful to me. I’m an introvert, but even I could recognize the beauty in this ritual. I loved Pacentro.

So the first and one of the most important lessons on trip planning was this: find the most beautiful of the less visited areas of wherever you’re traveling to. Planning like that scored big time for Joy and I. The last week of our trip, we threw out all this reasoning and lived to regret it big time. More on that next.

"Are All Artists Introverts?"

How many extroverts does it take to change a light bulb? Twenty. One to change the bulb and the others and cheers him on and enjoy that moment of comradery.

How many introverts does it take to change a light bulb. None. He’d rather light a candle instead because of the beautiful ambience that candlelight creates.

Wow, okay this morning I was talking to a studio visitor and she was really trying to understand the artist mind. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE! After trying to figure me out, she said that she assumed that all artists were introverts and that it was so odd I was obviously an extrovert.

But…

I am no extrovert. I know how to act like an extrovert. I even enjoy it. But it’s exhausting to me. I don’t think she believed me when I told her that though. ”You seem like a happy person though,” she said, “and obviously one that likes being around people”.

This brings up so many thoughts in my head, and I need to write them down to process them:

• First of all, I would imagine an artist could be EITHER personality type. I would also imagine that the art an extrovert would come up with might look and feel different from that produced by an introverted mind, but maybe not. But yes, I don’t know what being an extrovert or introvert has to do with being an artist of some sort.

• This woman was seriously doubting that I was in truth an introvert (because I seemed happy and obviously enjoyed people). Okay look, introverts are not always depressed. There. I said it. You know, extroverts can get depressed too. Introversion and misery are not synonymous. I personally know introverts who laugh. True statement. And we can be very happy (as long as we get some alone time to recharge). And both introverts and extroverts have to recharge to love people well and to enjoy life. We both do it, we just recharge differently.

• Introverts don’t hate being with people. We get bad press. Being an introvert does not mean you don’t love and enjoy people. My gosh, from what I read, even Jesus Christ went off by himself at times to be with his own mind and his God. I don’t think people associate Jesus with someone who did not love and enjoy people though, right? Extroverts may like huge parties (with 100 of their closest friends) and loud music and lots of commotion. I get that. I don’t understand that but I get it. See, introverts like SMALL get togethers or one-on-one social settings so that we can have a real, deep, powerful and honest conversation. I’m not saying that extroverts don’t experience that at their large, loud parties. I just don’t fathom how that’s possible. But then, I’ve never been an extrovert so I’m completely ignorant on that point.

I admit I’m totally baffled by extroverts in general. You are a complete and wonderful mystery to me! I need y’all in my life though. My wife and three of my four kids are extroverts. Introverts desperately need extroverts in their lives. You keep life very entertaining! And I would think extroverts need introverts in their lives too. Because of our differences, we can compliment each other, like a bit of salt and a bit of sugar in that cookie recipe you like. Salt and sugar are very different but they go together so well.

So bottom line, I do not believe all artists are automatically introverts. I may be wrong. Honestly, I have no idea. I do think that what makes you introvert and extrovert is not really what you do per se, it’s where you go to recharge emotionally and spiritually AFTER you do whatever you do. My wife and kids totally get recharged by being with people. I get recharged by sitting by myself and letting my mind rest. It’s not that an introvert longs to sit in the dark and embrace misery. It’s joy we are trying to embrace there. Personally, I really crave quiet sometimes. We both (extroverts and introverts) need that recharging time so we can be ready to get back to the craziness and joy of life, it’s just that we have different types of batteries we’re charging I think. What a complex and beautiful thing is a human mind!

I feel better now. Back to painting.

"Mullaghmore": The Story Behind the Painting

“Mullaghmore” (34” x 54”)

A few years ago, Joy and I had the privilege of visiting some dear friends in Ireland. They had moved from the central part of the country to Donegal (on the northern coast). While there, we visited historic villages and castles, forgotten and remote coves, did some amazing hiking on Europes tallest sea cliffs and rented bikes (discovering that riding a bike in the rain can be fun!). This was all in addition to spending some very pleasant hours chatting with our friends.

“I discovered I was just another ignorant American…”

One of the things they wanted to show us were the waves. Not being a surfer, I had no idea Ireland had much in the way of waves. I grew up learning to swim at Malibu and Zuma beaches in southern California, so I thought I had a pretty good standard for measuring what “surf-worthy” waves were. Oh my. I discovered I was just another ignorant American.

The beach we were taken to was called Mullaghmore and aside from the really beautiful setting on the rocky northwest coast of one of my favorite countries in the world, this place had waves. Like MONSTER waves. Like 60’+ waves. I couldn’t believe how powerful the sea was when it decided to seemingly let out all it’s wrath on the rocky coast of Mullaghmore. I also couldn’t believe anyone would want to get out INTO that water (it is really, really cold). The emotions in my head upon seeing the sea that day there included awe and (honestly) fear. These were truly monster waves. So powerful and majestic and raw.

So when Joy and I spent a few days on the coast here in North Carolina a couple weeks ago, I thought of Ireland. Even though the waves at the outer banks were minuscule compared to Mullaghmore, just seeing the power of the sea again made me want to create a painting that encapsulated that power. Asheville isn’t known for it’s waves, being eight hours from the coast, but as I’ve expressed before, sometimes what makes something a good idea worth doing is determined simply by the desire to do it and the fun it creates inside the heart of the creator. This wave, entitled “Mullaghmore” was worth it for me.

Sometimes, just "having fun" is a good enough reason

“Into Mystery” (36” x 28”)

If you’ve read much of this blog (THANK YOU!), you’ve probably heard me talk about why I paint what I paint. If you are an artist and you want to do that as a full-time job, you have to sell your work. This is not rocket science, right? There definitely is a place in the world for art that shocks and disturbs, but that doesn’t sell easily to tourists visiting my studio in Asheville’s River Arts District, wanting to bring home something that reminded them of their visit to the mountains of North Carolina. So, MOST of the time, I paint either generic scenes (that could remind the viewer of ANYWHERE) or scenes that are reminiscent of this part of North Carolina.

So, if you were to visit my studio (and you’re welcome to do that!), you’d find landscape paintings that are set in various themes having to do with our area. That said, about 10% of what you’d see would not fit that criteria at all. I have some seascapes and some underwater ocean scenes. Why? Because they were fun to paint (I like the ocean too). And then this week, I just finished a piece called “Into Mystery”, which is based on photos of Arizona’s Antelope Canyon. The challenge of painting a location like Antelope Canyon is that I had to figure out some way creating the thousands of lines that have been carved into the sandstone by immeasurable years of wind and rain. My goal here was to create those sweeping lines with texture. This piece was carved, smoothed, covered with metallic leaf, colorized with oil paint and finished with a single layer of resin. Personally, I’m really happy with this one. It was a real challenge but I feel happy with the results.

This painting, if nothing else, highlights my skill

because it was really difficult.

So, how does this piece appeal to some random visitor to Asheville, looking for something to bring home as a souvenir of their time here? Well…it probably doesn’t, and that’s okay. This painting, if nothing else, highlights my skill because it was really difficult. And if putting my skill out there front and center is all this piece does, that’s fine. It’s done it’s job. And who knows…we do get Asheville visitors from out west! So hey, if you’re from Arizona, give me a call! I do free shipping!

Where Does it Take You?

By way of confession, (it’s good for the soul) I admit it’s been way too long since I’ve blogged. This period of time is just really irksome. I’m tired of this virus lurking around. I’m rattled at how divided we’ve become as a country. It just seems like whatever we talk about with our neighbors and/or Facebook “friends” is so often framed in an attack or defense mode. I’ve been coping with the stress by just trying to ignore it all. Writing helps. Painting is my thing though. Anything creative will capture my whole attention and I then don’t think about politics or deadly disease or racist comments from various personalities on the radio. I have found that writing, creating an oil painting or listening to music will carry me to that place of focus and brain-rest. 

One of the things I have remembered during this really weird and stressful time is something my dad taught me when I was a kid and though it had to do with music (he was a musician and piano teacher), it very much affects the way I process all the arts. When I was around twelve years old, I was listening one afternoon to a tape of a collection of classical music (yes, I was a classical music nerd) and he asked me a question that I didn’t know how to answer. “Where does that take you?” I had never thought of that before. He asked me if I knew anything about the piece of music I was listening to and when I said no, he felt it was his God-appointed duty to enlighten me. He explained that the piece was entitled “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Fawn”, by Claude Debussy. He had me rewind the tape to the beginning of the piece, and told me to close my eyes and imagine the scene Debussy was describing with the music, then he turned the tape back on again. 

“Where does it take you?”

I’d never, ever listened to music like that. I usually just listened and decided whether or not I liked the piece simply based on my personal preference. I never thought in terms of “where does it take me”. My imagination was ignited and it was so much more fun than just listening to the piece. It became almost a meditation tool. I saw a fawn by itself int the dark woods, rays of sun stretching through the dark foliage. I saw streams of water, heard the birds, felt the breeze. It was amazing.

That afternoon affected the way I listen to a lot of my favorite music now. I once painted my version of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, listening to it over and over and over again, until I imagined what it “looked” like, not just what it sounded like. Where does it take you? This question changed how I listen to music and how I view artwork. When I look at a painting now (and it could be almost any painting — landscape to abstract), I really want to take the time to just stare at it and allow it to draw me in. And I ask that question: where does it take you? 

If you know anything about the way I paint, you know I purposely design an oil painting to draw people in, to engage the viewer. I don’t want it to just look nice on someone’s wall. Especially in these stressful days, I want every painting to take the viewer somewhere, somewhere nicer than here at the moment.

So take the time. Let the art — music, poetry, painting, whatever — let it take you. Where do you go? Where does it lead? Try it, and if you have a minute, comment right here and let me know. Thanks!!

Story Behind the Painting: Autumn Day on the French Broad River

“Autumn Day on the French Broad River”

In my art studio, I usually just quietly work on this or that oil painting. Some of the pieces have no story behind them at all. Some paintings are just based on an idea from my imagination, and some are based on a nice photo provided by a client seeking a commission. But if you were to visit my studio in Asheville’s River Arts District, some of the paintings you would see would have stories behind them and I’m taking this opportunity to share some of those stories.

This painting, entitled "Autumn Day on the French Broad River" is one that always puts a smile on my face. Joy and I love to tube down the French Broad River in the summer months. We park one car in the River Arts District and then bring our picnic (bagged watertight) in our second car and drive up the river about five miles, blow up the inner tubes and shove off. Talk about an utterly relaxing way to spend the afternoon. When I say "relaxing" I mean truly bordering on boring, as the river usually seems to be flowing at about a mile an hour. I love it. 

By the time I painted it, “summer” themed scenes would be harder to sell, so I “autumn-ized” it.

So, we were floating down the river and there was this really cool tree overhanging the water and I knew I needed a photo of it. But by the time I realized that fact, I was almost past it. Thinking very quickly, I grabbed one of the lowest branches and stopped our ponderous progress down the river. After wading out into the water, I got us to shore, then walked back up the river (with my iPhone camera safely ensconced in it's ziplock bag) and put in the river again. This time I was ready, and I got my shot. I was happy. Joy was rolling her eyes. 

I loved the composition but the only problem was that it was nearing mid-summer. By the time I painted it, "summer" themed scenes would be harder to sell, so I "autumn-ized" it. Easy. Rather than the greens, I applied golds, yellows and deep siena browns. The result was a piece I was really happy with. And it takes me back to that pleasant day in the river with my wife Joy. :)

Q&A: SESSION TWO

“Pointe de la Cuisse”

So, this is the second of probably three posts answering random (REALLY RANDOM) questions I’ve been asked. By you. Thank you!

Questions and Answers:

Question 1: Choose one place in the world to travel to for inspiration.

Oh, I so love that question. It’s really easy to answer: Venice, Italy. When I was there, it was (surprise!) packed with tourists, but honestly, all we had to do was to walk a couple blocks away from the main streets (filled with tourists) and we were all by ourselves. It was amazing. It’s a winding maze of awesome 3’ wide “streets” with laundry draped like prayer flags over each tiny street. And at the end of each “street” was a little courtyard flooded with light, so no matter where we explored, we were lured through dark narrow “streets” by the light just beyond. Because of this, Venice is a city that inspires curiosity and exploration. And…they have awesome food and wine. :)

Question 2: If you could write a book about your life, what would the title be?

“Where Are My Keys?, by Stephen St.Claire. How’s that?

The big issue is that I have to work hard and very deliberately to think about something deep enough to etch it into my mind. Like “okay, I’m putting my keys on the dining room table” (and actually say it out loud). If I don’t do something like that, I’ll just shed the keys and not give any thought at all as to where I shed them. And it’s not just keys, it’s everything. And it’s not just recently, it’s since I can remember. I think my problem is a “focusing” problem.

I remember my parents saying things like “THINK! Steve. Think!” That assumed that I wasn’t thinking, but I’m ALWAYS thinking. My mind is always turned “on”. I’m dreaming, pondering and creating in my head. I don’t know how to stop. There are places I go and practices I employ to help my brain slow down and that’s really helpful. But it doesn’t “stop” it.

This trait (I think it’s pretty common in creative people) is irritating but it’s also helpful to me. My artwork comes from this churning brain of mine. I’ve learned to love this trait actually (though my wife is not quite there yet). Because I’m an artist, the fact that I’m always thinking, dreaming, debating in my head, planning and creating makes my paintings the natural and logical outlet for what’s going on in my mind. That’s why I love artwork. I’m sure I’d go mad if I didn’t have that way to get it all out of my head (at least momentarily).

Entertaining Angels Unawares

A couple days ago, something really beautiful happened to me. Before I explain it though, I need to give you some background. Asheville is now pretty much a ghost town, with everyone staying in their homes afraid of the coronavirus. The entire River Arts District is closed, though I’m still in my studio (alone) because I have painting commissions I’m finishing up so they can be shipped. My wife Joy is in Dallas, Texas with three of our four kids and eight of our grandchildren because my youngest daughter is expecting a baby any hour now. Joy wanted to be there to help after the baby was born, so I ran back to NC to be here for the spring tourist crowds (HAH!) and to, like I said, finish up some paintings.

“I don’t want to take that if it’s all you have…”

So that’s the background. All that to say, everyone I love is in Dallas, Texas and Pittsburgh, PA and I’m feeling really, really alone and kind of creeped out by this whole virus mess and what is happened to the economy. This is really bad. So at 5:00 last Wednesday, I walked across the completely deserted streets of the River Arts District to where my car was parked, and as I was locking the studio door, I heard a violin playing. It was Chopin if I’m not mistaken. It was really beautiful. I figured someone was playing a radio or something, but it sounded “live”. I literally just stopped for a moment and listened. It had to be live. But it was 5:00 in a ghost town. No movement at all on the streets. No people. No sound at all except this lonely, lovely violin. So I followed the sound down the street, and sure enough, there was a black gentleman playing a violin on the corner. I stood reverently across the street (I LOVE Chopin) and as he finished, performing for an audience of one, I clapped. He asked if I had a dime or quarter for the song. I checked and all I had was a dollar bill. I explained that the dollar was all I had and that he could have that. “I don’t want to take that if it’s all you have,” he said. “Do you want some change back?”

Who says that? I told him that I wish I had more in my pocket. I told him that what he was doing (adding beauty into a silent, dark and scary world) was really important and very much appreciated. He smiled and kept playing while I walked back to my car.

Then I remembered out of the blue, a verse from the book of Hebrews (in the New Testament of the Bible) that I learned as a kid in Sunday school. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” No, I’m not saying I think I saw an angel. Although…who knows. If so, I pray God sends many more into our world right now in this dark time.

And so what his me was that I needed to imitate this man. We all should.

Create beauty now, even now, especially now. And share that beauty with people. That’s recreating Eden and we need a bit of Eden at the moment.

From Point A to Point Z

I remember years ago, as I was teaching a group of aspiring artists, the main problem I had with students was not their level of artistic skill or creativity. The main problem can be illustrated by the exasperated comment I heard over and over again: “My painting doesn’t look as good as yours!”. This statement usually was followed by them just giving up entirely. I felt like half the time, I was teaching art technique and the rest of the time, I was playing psychotherapist, and I’m not a very good psychotherapist.

"My painting doesn’t look as good as yours!”.

Really?

NEWS FLASH…if your painting looked as good as mine, you would not be taking an art class from me now, would you? (See, I really stink as a psychotherapist.) You might think their problem is self confidence, but it’s not. Their problem, over and over again, is a complete misunderstanding of how long it takes to perfect a skill. How long does it take to be able to sit down at the piano and play your favorite Katy Perry song? How long would it take you to reach the point where you would be able to run a marathon? How longs does it take to learn enough math skills to be an accountant? How many years of medical training does it take to be a brain surgeon?

Honestly, the common conception that “well, ANYONE could be an artist” is not only ignorant, it’s insulting. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone can pick up a paint brush (and would be psychologically healthier if they did) and create something, but to create something really well takes time and practice and lots of patience and stubborn persistence. It takes time to get from point A to point Z.

Honestly, the common conception that “well, ANYONE could be an artist” is not only ignorant, it’s insulting.

The common push-back I get to the above paragraph is that a lot of people look at a lot of the artwork out there and conclude “Heck, my four year old could do that!” so they assume art takes no skill at all, just good marketing. Looking around at a lot of artwork, I totally understand why people would feel that way. But, can I respectfully respond to this notion with a question? If I called myself a neurosurgeon, would that make me a neurosurgeon? If I called myself a concert pianist, would that make me a pianist? If I called myself an auto mechanic, would that mean you’d turn me loose on your Lexus?

Skill. Look for the skill. Art is visual, so the skill is there to be seen, or it’s not art. It may be color, it may be expressive, it may even be interesting to look at, but if there is no skill, there is no art.

Skill takes time and patience and persistence to develop and the willingness of aspiring artists to expend that kind of energy is what will make them a master of their craft. And honestly, when someone (no matter their present artistic skill level) who has the fire inside their heart that drives them to keep creating and developing their craft, it’s nearly impossible for them to fail.