Using Art to Express my Politics

Artists have been using their craft as a language for centuries to express their deeply held opinions, be they religious, or political (basically all the topics that are “off-limits” to polite conversation). It’s true, art has a way of expressing something really deep about topics that we have difficulty finding words to otherwise express. Think of a traumatized child using art to express pain or confusion. Think about the really startling artwork of Francisco Goya (expressing the horror of the political situation in Spain in the early seventeenth century).

Earlier this week, a woman approached my work station at my studio in Asheville’s River Arts District and said something that totally validated what I want to do with my artwork. She said, “Thank you for giving me a few moments of peace and sanity. I’ve been so stressed out over the election and the pandemic, and your artwork makes me forget about all of it. Thank you for taking my mind somewhere quiet.”

That was one of the most awesome things a studio visitor has ever said to me. That is exactly what I want my artwork to do: take people away to a quiet place, even in the midst of what many of us perceive as a huge political and social mess in this country.

So, I have purposely chosen not to get political with my artwork, my blog, or any of the rest of my social media. That does not mean I have no political opinions or angst. It’s just that I’d rather use words to express those opinions. I am committed to reserve what I say with my artwork for a “holy” purpose. I don’t mean by that statement that I see my art as religious. By “holy”, I’m swiping the ancient definition: “set apart for a special (not everyday, common) purpose”. That is what I want for every painting I finish.

We all have something to say. We all have an opinion. We all have things about this country we love and things we would like to fix. But you will never, ever see those things addressed here. I’ll reserve those opinions for another time and place (like over a beer!)

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!

The Best Painting Delivery Ever...

Hitting the “reset” button

A couple months ago, I was commissioned to paint a rather large painting. Because I normally pay for shipping charges for my clients (a tangible way to offer my thanks for their business), I knew this piece would be pretty expensive to send to it’s new home in Denver, CO. When I actually checked the FedEx website for pricing, I was pretty shocked at the several hundred dollars price tag for shipping, and so…I looked at Joy and asked if she was up for a road trip.

I don’t know about everyone else, but this year especially, with all the stress of a business that was closed down for three months, trying to stay clear of Covid-19, and constantly dealing with the chaos of the upcoming election…e really needed a rest. Creativity demands to be fed with peace and adventure. You cannot expend what you don’t have inside your heart and mind. Well, that was my way of justifying taking a road trip to Colorado (and adding a few extra days onto said road trip, as long as we were already there!). So we packed up the painting securely and strapped it to the top of our car, then headed three days west.

After helping my clients install the piece, Joy and I headed north a couple hours to Laramie, Wyoming, and we spent nearly a week exploring the mountains, canyons and lakes in the area. Our daily routine was to hike a few hours and then scout out a cool place to plant our camping chairs, have a picnic and spend several hours just sitting and reading. Enjoying the absolute quiet. Listening to the autumn breeze as it rattled the leaves of the golden aspen trees all around us.

It was amazing.

We talked about it afterwards and we both could actually feel ourselves soaking it it. My gosh. I felt like a dry sponge immersed in sweet, clear water.

So whether or not the need for peace and adventure was actually a “need” or a “want”, I don’t really care. I’m content to let someone else figure that one out. It felt amazing. And by the time we were headed back home to North Carolina, I could hardly wait to start painting again. I’ve never felt that way about any other job I’ve ever head, so I think the time in Colorado and Wyoming was definitely worth it.

How a Dinky Little Virus Changed my Art Business

Each day I go to my studio now, inevitably someone will profusely thank me for being open, and then asks how I’m doing as an artist in this crazy pandemic.

Well, things have changed. Last year was an amazing year as far as art sales go. Incredible. And then…we hit March of this year and everything completely changed. Those last few days before we HAD to lock up the studio in Asheville was just spooky. Though mid-March usually brings tourists back into town, no one at all was on the streets. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead. But if you’re reading this, you already know that because it was the same all over the country. Mid-March began a period of time that was really scary for so many reasons. Questions like “will I get this disease?”, and “will I make it financially through this thing?” were on everyone’s mind (including this artist).

COMMISSIONS

During those first weeks, I was really thankful I still had painting commissions I was working on from the end of 2019. But then in early April, a few more commissions came in. I was amazed. “Now??” I asked myself. “Who would buy art NOW?” But one client at that time explained “the world is so scary and horrible right now. I need something that will give me joy and peace and that’s why I have to commission a piece of artwork from you.” I was honored and really thankful for that kind of response to this situation. Even now, there has not (so far) been a day of 2020 when I was not working on a commission. In fact, I’m just finishing up the largest commission I’ve ever received. I honestly don’t understand this at all, but I’m not complaining.

NEWSLETTERS

Because of what that client said, I realized I maybe had something I could do to help people during the lockdown (at least a little). I began to send out a newsletter weekly to all my client list (nearly 2000 people). I usually send it out to show new work and talk about upcoming events at the studio (if you’re interested in being on the mailing list, just email me at stclaireart@gmail.com). But this time, I sent out a single photo once a week of one of my paintings and the story behind that painting. And immediately, I got really positive responses. I just wanted to give people at least a few minute escape from reality, and right then, that seemed like something real I could be giving.

MINI MASTERPIECES

During that time, I also began working on tiny (8” x 10”) versions of some of my favorite pieces I’ve done over the last several years and then offering them for sales on Facebook and Instagram. The sales of my “mini’s” really helped support us well through spring, and I have a whole bunch ready for holiday sales. Again, these sales surprised me. I have NEVER sold directly on-line. Because my paintings are reflective and have depth to them (and you can’t capture that in a photo), I have never bothered trying to sell my work on-line. But these were an exception and I am really grateful for the Artist Support Pledge that started this whole idea of artists offering tiny paintings in 2020. That really helped a lot of artists make it through the scariest time of the lock downs.

STUDIO SPACE

One unexpected thing about the studio having to be closed down for a couple months was that I found I really liked working from home. I have a yard surrounded by huge maple, oak and hickory trees. To be able to just wear grubby clothes and set up my work station right there in my front yard, crank up my music or podcast and create my artwork there was uh…really nice. So Joy and I decided to move most of our behind the scenes production work home, which cleared out the back part of my studio. We cleaned and painted the walls and floor, opened up the back doorway to about 12’ and I found another artist to join me in the space. His name is Onicas Gaddis and he has been a joy to have around. He is also a painter but works in acrylic and does large expressionistic-style pieces. Really cool stuff (you should check his website out at onicasart.com). Having another artist there not only helps us out on rent, it means we can be open seven days a week, but Joy and I still get our two days / week off. Thank you Onicas! So when you next visit, you may well be greeted by a smiling face (smiling behind the mask) of my new studio mate. Make sure you say hi!

TO SUM IT UP

I am really lucky, blessed, fortunate (however you want to look at it). And I cannot help but be hopeful about the future and thankful I’m making it through this period of time (so far, so good anyway). So my business model has changed, and this years sales sure aren’t what they were last year, but thank God (and I do multiple times every day) and thanks to all my amazing clients, I’m making it and actually enjoying parts of this whole experience. Don’t get me wrong…I’m longing for 2021 and I’m longing to be able to travel again! I’m longing to ditch my mask and start hugging people again. But right now, in this weird and sometimes scary lull, I feel quiet inside. I am so thankful.

That’s enough. I have a commission I need to get back to now…

Adaptation: Survival of the Most Flexible

Life is so weird sometimes. Looking back to last year, I can’t help but wonder…Oh, 2019 why did you have to leave? You were awesome to me (and probably lots of other people). And 2021, you’d BETTER be nicer than 2020, that’s all I’ve got to say. 

You know, as weird and difficult as 2020 is for all of us, we do not live in the past or the future. We live right here and now, firmly ensconced in the weirdness of 2020 and tasked with finding meaning and beauty (and making a living) right now. And that means that if I want to make it as an artist into 2021 and beyond, I need to adapt. I need to think outside the box. 

Last year, I would not work on any paintings under $500. I just didn’t have the time. Under $500 was Joy’s “territory”. She does NOT like to work large. Large paintings (to her) are SCARY. I love large paintings. They can totally theme a room. So I worked on larger pieces and Joy worked on smaller pieces and we were happy. And then, we celebrated the New Year and welcomed (blindly) 2020! Oh man. We had no idea January 1, did we??

Recent “mini’s”

They’re diminutive gems!

So, because of the fact that so many people are struggling financially, I have switched gears a bit. These days, I’m regularly cranking out 8” x 10” paintings and I’m finding I’m really, really enjoying them. They’re diminutive gems. They can find a home on practically any wall, and they range from $200 - $300. So for now, and at least for the foreseeable future, I’m not only working large, but working small as well, and having a blast. So look over my website or scan through your best vacation photos. If you find something you’d like for your home or a special gift, just let me know. 

And just to make it clear, this does NOT mean I don’t want to work on larger pieces. I’m currently working on some of the largest commissions I’ve ever done. I’m always working on large pieces. But this year, I’m also adding the “St.Claire mini’s” to my artistic repertoire. They’re cute and they’re fun. You can’t argue with that. 

Story Behind the Painting: "Sundown over the Blue Ridge"

Last summer, my wife Joy and I hiked to the top of Max Patch, a barren mountaintop right at the crest of the Appalachian mountains. It’s about an hours drive from our house in Asheville but we LOVE going here with a picnic dinner to watch the sunset. You can see for nearly a hundred miles from the summit of Max Patch. It’s amazing. 

So last summer, we spread the picnic blanket, lit the candle (great way to class up a mountaintop date), pulled out the rotisserie chicken, potato salad, three bean salad and a bottle of wine. And Pims (Per Joy, you have to have Pims for desert when on one of these mountaintop dates).  

It was a perfect evening. It was a hot, sweaty day down in Asheville, but up here, Joy had a sweater on. Picture a nearly cloudless afternoon, watching the sun set over the horizon. With every moment, the sunlight grew more and more golden, then orange and then just hovered on the horizon and then…show’s over. We sat there and chatted, enjoying the cool breeze until it was starting to get dark. 

Picture a nearly cloudless afternoon,

watching the sun set over the horizon…

A couple weeks later, I was at the studio painting and a guest came in asking for a commission. They’d found a photo from (wait for it….) Max Patch and wanted me to paint it for them, which I very happily did. This was one I wish I could have kept, because it wasn’t just a nice painting (in my opinion), but it recalled a memory. I’m always telling people interested in a commission to look through their photos from their favorite vacations. I can paint them! And that memory infused that artwork with power. Crazy huh? If my artwork can have the power to call someone in this (at present) crazy world back to a place of joy and peace, that’s almost spiritual. I love that! 

Anyway, for me personally, that’s the power this particular painting has for me.

Cure for Covid blues

As an artist in Asheville’s River Arts District, a goal of mine is to journal in my blog on a weekly basis, and I love it when the subject matter is supplied to me by a visitor to my art studio. So, thank you Ian and Jackie from Jacksonville, Florida, who commented (as best as I can remember, something like this:  “You obviously enjoy depicting scenes of tranquility and peace. But this year is anything but tranquil and peaceful. What do you do in your head to keep painting these scenes?” 

A gift of complete rest from toil.

Oh man. That was a really good question. This year (especially this year), I have to take time to rest my body, mind and soul. The ancient Hebrews had a concept of Sabbath and I really love it, though I didn’t used to. I grew up thinking that “sabbath” was all about keeping rules (i.e. you couldn’t do anything fun that day). But originally, the whole concept of absolute rest was a gift — a gift of complete rest from toil. I really like that, and especially this year, and especially as an artist, I absolutely need that body, mind, soul rest. And this past week, I had it. 

Joy and I had the privilege of renting a cabin on a lake in northern Pennsylvania with our daughter Camden, her husband Joseph and their two awesomely cute and amazing children. And because of COVID, we couldn’t do anything except sit around the cabin, go for walks, ride bikes and go fishing. For a full seven days, I was teetering right on the edge of absolute relaxation and complete boredom. It was awesomely renewing. I’m addicted to the whole concept of sabbath now. Complete rest. Body, mind, soul rest. Picture that feeling of stepping into a hot tub on a 34 F night: AHHHHHHHHH. Oh yeah, that is what I’m talking about. Rest. Peace, down to the core of your soul. What a wonderful thing. 

That “Sabbath rest” is why I can keep painting what I paint. And I’m wondering if there is a way to include a few minutes of that kind of rest into every single day I live and create. I think I need to try that out. 

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. :)

Story Behind the Painting: Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat

“Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat”

I’ve had people ask about inspiration. “What’s the story behind this one?” I love that question. So for fun (and maybe mostly for my own entertainment, I thought I would recall some of these “stories behind the painting” here in this venue. So here is the first: “Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat”.

Last September, my wife Joy and I were gifted some time in the south of France by Joy's mom. We spent several days in Nice, and while we were there, my task was to find a really great beach. So I Googled "best beaches". Joy's only stipulation was that it would not be too crowded. That stipulation turned out pretty laughable, since this stretch of coastline is one of the most tourist-crowded coastlines in the world.

“…we spent time swimming in the most amazingly clear,

radiant blue water I've ever seen”. 

So instead of a crowded beach day, we settled on a walking day. And what I randomly found on Google maps turned out to be one of the highlights of our whole visit to France. There is a peninsula just east of Nice called Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat and there is a footpath around nearly the whole peninsula. This little footpath seemed to be entirely unknown by tourists since we were about the only people on it, and here and there, there were tiny little inlets and beaches (completely empty beaches). This painting is based on the photo I took of the exact spot we stopped to have our lunch and where we spent time swimming in the most amazingly clear, radiant blue water I've ever seen. 

I was resigned to share our beach day with 50,000 other visitors and instead, I shared a secluded little cove with my wife. What an awesome surprise.