"How did you know you wanted to be an artist?"

It’s easy at this point in my art career to take a lot for granted. I have an amazing job. I have an art studio in Asheville, in the heart of the River Arts District, just a few hundred yards from the mighty French Broad River (just kidding — it’s not all that mighty except for after a good thunderstorm), and I get to paint all day long and welcome people into my studio who are interested in artwork. It’s awesome. But as I said, it’s easy now to forget the steps I took to where I’m at now.

Yesterday, a gentleman from Toledo, Ohio was asking me about that artistic path, and it was good to remember. He asked, “how did you know you wanted to be an artist?”

The answer only took a moment to consider. I explained, “Well…do you remember that kid when you were in third grade that was always chosen last for the football, basketball or baseball team? :) That was me. At the time, it was really hurtful and shaming, but looking back now, I admit I feel sorry for the team that got stuck with my athletic skills. I really did stink. It’s not that I was uncoordinated. I liked individual sports, like skiing, running, things like that, but I crumbled under the pressure of team sports because too many people were depending on me and then I cracked. So, picture this insecure little kid who every day during P.E. wants to disappear. That was me. But then after lunch was art class, and the same kids that insulted me on the baseball diamond would regularly come over to my desk during art class and ask “Wow, how the *%$##@! did you do that?”

So very early on, art was a savior. But art makes a horrid savior, because it only saves you as long as you perform…as long as you’re the best. But when you’re not, it leaves you desolate. So after several years of wrestling with that, I began to create art just for the joy of it, not to prop up my sagging self image or try to prove something. I stopped “using” art for a personal (selfish) motive and being experiencing a real release in what I created and experimented with.

So how did I know I wanted to be an artist? It’s pretty much the only thing I’ve ever been really good at, so that makes the choice easy. I love my job. I love working as an artist in Asheville. I love the mountains of North Carolina. I wouldn’t trade this gig for anything in the world.

How do you know when a painting is "done"?

With all the people strolling through my art studio in Asheville, I am asked a whole lot of questions. Usually, they’re pretty much the same questions like:

• What’s the shiny stuff on your paintings? Answer: it’s solar resistant resin.

• Do you HAVE to paint on aluminum leaf? Answer: Define “HAVE” to.

• How long have you been painting? Answer: Since I was four.

• Are you St.Claire? Answer: Yes. You wanna kiss my ring?

• Are these all local scenes? Answer: Not all, but mostly.

• What are all the circles? Answer: What do YOU think they are?

• Is there a restroom nearby? Answer: Yes, the blue door over there on the right

Last week, I was asked a question I don’t remember ever being asked before: “How do you know when a painting is done?” Hmmm. I’ve never really thought about that. My first thought was “well, how do you know when your dinner is done?” It’s just done when it’s done, right? But then I started analyzing that decision and realized the answer is pretty complex.

It’s just done when it’s done, right?

There are at least twenty steps each painting goes through to bring it from beginning to completion and I know from experience when a painting is getting close to that end point. I’m working with layer on layer of texture underneath a thin layer of aluminum leaf. And then I begin applying thin layer on thin layer of oil paint. I’ll first apply the paint on the piece per the different color families I’m using. I’ll apply the warm colors first, let them dry, then apply the cool colors (or the other way around), and work from the farthest background (usually the sky in a landscape) up to the foreground, letting each step dry before working on the closer section. Then I repeat, and repeat and repeat. Each time I apply another layer of paint, the colors are enriched. The very end of the process is just working with contrast so that the piece “pops”, so I’ll darken the darks and lighten the lights in certain areas so that the eye is led by the contrast of those two elements.

And then…I ask Joy if it’s done and she gets the last word. There’s a life lesson there I think.