How to deal with criticism as an artist

Beauty or just a big mess?

First off, I love creating art. I pour my whole heart and soul into every single painting I create, and so I have a whole lot of me invested in my work. Most artists I know understand exactly what I’m talking about. Creating art is risky. See, if people love what you create, it feels amazing. If people don’t love what you create, it can be completely devastating. So I say that creating art is risky because with every piece you create, you’re basically putting your soul out there for the whole world to judge.

Or not.

That last sentence describes my way of looking at my own art abilities when I was a grade schooler. I was always the best artist in each of my classes growing up and since I was NOT the top of my class when it came to team sports or academics, I made my artistic abilities my key to feeling accepted by my classmates. That scheme worked great until high school. In tenth grade, I realized that I was no longer the “best artist” in my grade and I kind of fell apart. By my late teens, I realized I was just using art as a tool to get what I really wanted: to feel like I deserved to be here, earning my right to breathe, and I have learned that no ability I could possibly have can give me that kind of inner-soul validation. That’s got to come from somewhere else. Art cannot bear that kind of weight.

And so, over time, I have learned that my art abilities were just given to me to enjoy. That’s it. They are my key to fun. They are not my key to feeling acceptable as a human. And when that weight is taken off of art, creativity can just be enjoyed, so nothing is on the line. If people like my artwork, I’m happy. I like it, and I’m glad when someone else does too. If someone doesn’t like it, that’s got to be okay. Nothing is on the line. So when someone critiques my work, I really try to take a deep breath and listen. Over and over again, I have been able to glean something from every critical comment. Every artist has got to be okay with the idea that they are not perfect; that they make mistakes and that they are still growing. The most difficult people I’ve ever been around are those that are convinced that they never make mistakes. The other group of people that are really difficult to be around are those that think they SHOULD NEVER make mistakes and when they do, they nose dive into depression. Both types of people are arrogant…two sides of the same coin. I don’t want to be like that.

“I have learned that my art abilities were just given to me to enjoy. That’s it.”

The man I want to be informs the artist I want to be. My faith tells me that my Creator loves me and approves of me. That faith says that one day I will stand before him. Him. Only him. That faith teaches me that I am forgiven and loved and approved by him already. And if that is true, then there doesn’t exist anyone whose critique or disapproval can undo the approval my creator promises me I already have.

Honestly, that’s what I remind myself every time I receive a critique. Nothing is on the line. And in every critique, if I listen, there may just be an element or two of wisdom and I can use that wisdom to improve my craft. And because I love my craft, I want it to be constantly improving. Critiques are just part of that.

Question 12: "What do you do when you have a mental block?"

“In the Heart of the Woods”

This question definitely falls into the category of “Last but not Least”: “What do you do when you have a mental block?”. This is such a difficult question to answer, and THAT may baffle non artists. I’ve never heard of a doctor or a car mechanic or an attorney or an insurance salesperson say “I just have no idea where to start. My head isn’t in this at all.” Maybe they say that. Maybe I’m making a huge assumption based on ignorance. I just know that when it comes to creating…creating something out of nothing, it requires inspiration. It really does. Whether that’s writing a song that has never been sung, or writing a poem that’s never been spoken or painting a painting that’s never been seen…creating from nothing requires an almost “spiritual” energy.

If that is an accurate way of looking at it, then because I am not God (the source of unlimited spiritual energy), I have only a bit here and there. I am a rechargeable “AA” battery, and not a cold fusion reactor. And so, a creative person absolutely needs to recharge their AA battery or nothing will happen creatively at all.

So my answer to the question of what to do when I have a “mental block” is a very person answer. I have my own answer, but if YOU were asking me this question, rather than telling you my own answer, I would first have to ask you a question. My question would be “What is ‘life-giving’ to you? What recharges you?” Maybe it’s cooking. Maybe it’s hanging out with friends, or hiking, or traveling, or reading, or singing in the shower, or finger-painting or taking a long drive. Do that. Do whatever recharges your own AA battery. My answer is MY answer and I'm fine sharing MY answer when specifically asked, but I don’t think this is the place to do that. See, your answer to a truly “spiritual question” is also a very deeply “personal answer”. Your answer is as custom fit to you as mine is to me. So I make it a rule of thumb not to give my own answer unless I’m actually asked for it.

The point though is, if you are creative and you have a mental block, you need to figure out how you’re put together so to speak. What is akin to “inhaling”? If you exhale (create), you HAVE to inhale to keep the whole process going. This is very, very difficult in our modern western society, because time does not allow for “luxuries” like taking a walk or savoring a slow, quiet afternoon, or turning the lights out and listening to a Brahms Symphony. The way we look at these “luxuries” is all wrong though. We are humans, not robots. We require real, spiritual input to create beauty. That input is not a luxury. That is real. That is life. And that is deeply, deeply human.

Question 11: Where do you get inspiration for your work?

This question, “Where do you get your inspiration?” is one of the most asked questions I get. And it’s funny. It’s actually one of the most difficult questions to answer. It’s like someone asking you, “how do you breath?” Simple question, but how do you answer it? “I…uh…just do?” I don’t know how other artists might answer this question, but since this is my blog, I’ll answer it for myself.

For me personally, I need peace inside my head to create. I need quiet. This may just be because I’m an introvert rather than because peace is intricately connected to creativity. I don’t know. Maybe an extroverted artist would feel different, but that’s not me. And for me, quiet and peace happen best when I’m walking or (preferably) hiking in nature. It can take me a while to walk a few miles because I like to stop and just breathe, listen, take in the essence of the place. Hah! That sounds so “spiritual” but honestly, for me, I guess it really is. I can’t think outside the box and create when life is rushed, loud and crazy. I love rushed, loud and crazy (in bite sized pieces), don’t get me wrong. I just can’t create in that environment.

“…I feel the intense desire to communicate to someone else what I’m feeling at that moment in such a way that they feel it too.”

And usually, walking in that quiet place, taking it all in, I’m with my wife Joy. So it may be quiet around me, but I sometimes talk a lot in that context, expressing myself and processing the emotions the place excites inside my head. Does anyone else do this??? I’m probably really annoying to hike with.

Joy: “Why are we stopping?”

Me: “Listen to that!”

Joy: “What? I don’t hear anything”

Me: “I know. Isn’t it beautiful? Just the wind…that’s all I hear. That’s so beautiful!”

Joy is very patient and is really great at entering with me into that “sacred space”. It’s there I get ideas, and at that point, it’s not just “Oh, I can paint that mountain over there!” It’s more like I feel the intense desire to communicate to someone else what I’m feeling at that moment in such a way that they feel it too. When you look at it that way, it’s actually a very intimate thing — creating a piece of art.

So in a nutshell, I get my inspiration from walking, prayer, breathing and listening in the context of nature. It can take hours, so I can’t rush it at all. But given the time (and the quiet), inspiration comes and at that point, in that quiet moment, it can ironically break in like a hurricane. I love that.

"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 1)

This is one of the photos currently becoming a painting! I took it on an amazing hike we took just east of Pacentro, Italy.

Five years ago, I visited Italy, and ever since, I’ve been trying to figure out how and when we could get back there. Italy is not for everyone, but it’s definitely for me. Upon returning from Italy in 2017, I begin learning Italian. I was serious. I began discretely passing on little news articles to Joy about Italian villages offering homes for 1 euro. Joy has become very good at rolling her eyes.

Despite the realization I would never relocate to a hilltop village in Italy, Joy and I were finally able to visit again in early September of this year. Upon arriving in Rome, we headed directly east to Abruzzo, and then south into Puglia. Oh, Italy did it’s work on me, and I’m so glad. I’ll never really be the same.

If you’re still reading this, you might have realized that this blog post has little to do directly with “art”, but my experience there had a lot to do with creativity and life in general, and that all informs the artwork I do. I feel the need to write down my thoughts. So if you’re reading this, be aware this is going to be more of a journal entry than a typical blog post.

So, here we go:

What I learned from Italy, Part 1

First of all, and probably most importantly, Italy completely confronts my tendency to feel like I’m in control of my life. In Italy, Italy controls your life. From the first moments after picking up our rental car and wondering how the heck to get out of the airport (the signage was not AT ALL clear on this), the American in me threatened to bristle and think “well why don’t they have better signage???” (i.e. “why don’t they do things like Americans?”)

Literally, countless times every day, Joy and I were confronted with the fact that life is just really approached differently in Italy than in the United States and that is exactly why I wanted to visit this place again. I can’t tell you how emotionally healthy it felt to just take a deep breathe, sigh, and say (over and over again like a mantra), “I want to do this or that, but…we’ll see.” You’d have to know me to understand that that just is not me. My kids would probably all agree I have a Type A personality (which is why I need to visit places like Italy). See, in Italy, all my plans had to be held very loosely in order to enjoy the place at all. I had every day pretty much all planned out, but Italy dictated that I hold those plans in an open palm, and to be open to practically anything changing those plans. At that point, I was confronted with a choice: I could either really dig in my heals and fight it and wish I’d gone to Germany or England instead, OR give into it and roll with it, letting Italy shape me like I was a lump of clay on a potters wheel and Italy was the potter. I chose the latter and I’m so glad I did.

Italy was absolutely exhausting and absolutely wonderful. I probably almost died there, and unrelated to that, I took home a souvenir that made me more sick than I ever remember being in my life. But I’m ready to go back. I love that place and have lots of stories and reflections I want to share.

Next time.

How to Handle Failure

I’ve been super busy lately. Hint: I hate being super busy unless I’m super busy painting. I hear you can have too much of a good thing, but that rule of thumb does not apply to my artwork (not so far anyway). I get lost in my artwork. It’s really my very happy place.

Until last Wednesday.

I was working on a series of three pieces that will be hung together (as a triptych). It was a pretty simple scene — mountain ranges and sky. I know how to paint mountain ranges and sky so I figured that this was going to be pretty simple. I began to apply the paint day after day and eventually, the piece entered “the ugly stage”. So far so good. See, every painting I ever have done has gone through that dreaded “ugly stage”. That stage is where most fledgling artists stop and throw their canvas against the wall and shout out some colorful French obscenities. The thing about the ugly stage is that usually, the very next day, the piece rounds the corner and begins to take on some maturity — it starts to look like what you intended it to look like. That is such an awesome thing. That turning point happens within a day or two of entering that ugly stage.

Until last Wednesday.

I could not make this painting idea work. It was boring. It was ugly and I was coming to the realization that the ugly I was seeing was not just a stage. It was really bad. I’ve heard gallery visitors tell their children, “Oh sweetie, just remember…there are NO MISTAKES in art”.

IF ONLY.

I make mistakes. What you do with the mistake is what will sink you or what will propel you as a creative person into a completely different direction. But oh man, it’s so difficult. I hate failure.

I refrained from throwing the canvases across the room, and I don’t know French swear words and I don’t say English swear words so I was really stuck. I felt so discouraged and frustrated. My painting was ugly and boring. And that is not okay. I sat with that realization and had to just admit that I was not perfect and that THAT was okay.

By the time evening came, I was ready to just scrape off what I’d begun painting and start all over again with a different idea. The “ugly stage” bested me. I think my real problem was that I wanted to just knock out something easy — so I painted mountain ranges and sky. I can do that in my sleep. It turns out that laziness and pride is not the friend of creativity. When I do the best work is when I approach a subject with joy, curiosity, respect and reverence and that is definitely not how I approached my failed triptych.

Maybe creativity needs silence to be ignited.

So at 2:30 AM, I woke up. In that very quiet and still time of the night, nothing was in my head at all. My mind was a completely blank canvas (pardon the pun). And quite unbidden, I instantly saw in my head an idea I’d never thought of before. And then I got so excited, I walked up to my attic studio and seriously contemplated starting to scrape off my old composition so I could begin the new idea right then and there. With wisdom not my own, I decided that idea was over the top and that I needed sleep so…several hours later I began to transform this triptych into something completely different than I’ve ever done before. And I’m having so much fun with it, that I’ve started an additional single painting using the same technique I’m using for the triptych!

Why moments of insight can’t come at 2:00 PM rather than 2:00 AM is unknown to me but that’s often how it works. Maybe creativity needs silence to be ignited. Maybe my heart needs stillness to be able to hear the voice of the real Creator. I don’t know. It feels mystical though.

When I’m done with these pieces. I’m so excited and continue to have so much fun doing what I do. And I’m so thankful people are willing to part with their money in exchange for one of my paintings. That is amazing and humbling.

So, more than ever, I am committed never to forget my real task: to approach every subject I paint with joy, curiosity, respect and reverence, even if it means I need to slow down and be quiet in order to make sure that happens.

"What is it like being an artist these days?"

“Le Canal du Midi”

This week, I was talking to some studio visitors and they wanted to know a bit about my background and how I came up with my technique. I’m used to questions like that, but then they asked about what it’s like being an artist today. And I thought that was a really good question. Pre-COVID (remember those days??) that would have been a relatively easy question to answer. Being an artist is fun! I can (and have) done other jobs. This art thing is not a “job”. This is life. Painting for me is “life-giving”and I absolutely love it. Having a studio in Asheville, North Carolina where I can share my artwork with literally thousands of visitors every year is amazing. What an awesome privilege. How many artists around the country would love the chance to create their art within such an awesome community of artists here in Asheville? Pre-COVID, that would basically have been my answer.

Now, two years into the pandemic and feeling fairly hopeful about all that, my answer honestly is more contemplative and sober. These days, with wars and political discord and cultural polarization, I honestly have gone through weeks feeling really superfluous being an artist. I mean honestly, when the economy is tanking and all the headlines are depressing, it’s really easy to feel like what I do is unimportant and not really “necessary” to anyone but me.

But even during the darkest days of COVID and during this economically “uncertain” time, I make sales. I don’t understand, but I am still making sales and breaking my own records. I am confused and absolutely full of thankfulness. My clients are so, so encouraging and especially during the last couple years, I’ve really received that encouragement with a sense of thankfulness and awe. One 2021 client in Oklahoma said “especially now, I need artwork on my walls that makes me feel what your painting makes me feel. They take me somewhere else. Thank you!”

“I am confused and absolutely full of thankfulness…”

This is so encouraging and really humbling. I am feeling now like I need to take every painting, every creative project really seriously. This work I do isn’t just to create something that looks nice on a wall. What I want to do is to affect people. During times of uncertainty, grief, fear, frustration and anger…if I can, I’d like to create something that brings a sense of peace; something that will inspire imagination and curiosity in the viewer. I want to create something that will “take them away” to a peaceful place if only for a few minutes. If ALL of us did that, this world would be an awesome place to call home.

I can’t change the world for everyone. But if everyone changed the world for one person, that would really be something. I try to do that with the only thing I know how to do well…art. What do you enjoy doing? How could you use that to encourage the life of one person this week? You up for that? If so, I’d love to know any details you’d like to share. I think this planet, these people (broken though we are) are really worth investing in. THAT is why I do art now.

"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.

The Story Behind…"Gentle Showers on a Summer Afternoon"

Have you ever hiked in the rain? Well, we can now say that we have. Understand, this was not the original plan, but one thing about doing ANYTHING outside in the mountains of Western North Carolina in July is that those plans always need contingencies for an afternoon thunderstorm.

The morning was gorgeous. North Carolina is known for it’s blue sky, and the locals are really proud of it. “Carolina Blue” they call it. And in the mountains above most of the summer humidity, that blue sky is truly gorgeous. So that Saturday morning a couple summer ago, we packed our backpacks with sub sandwiches, lots of water and Pim’s. I’ve written about Pim’s before. Many thanks to the British for that wonderful, awesome “biscuit”. So good. It’s to the point now that it’s just not a proper hike without the Pim’s.

We headed northeast to a trail we’d not taken before (towards Roan Mountain on the Tennessee border) and began our walk. Wildflowers were EVERYWHERE and the air was perfect — warm but not oppressively hot and a wonderful breeze was coming from the west. By early afternoon, a few clouds began gathering over the high peaks and by the time we stopped for lunch, we were getting a few (just a few) rain drops. And then…

“…we looked back across the valley and I kind of gasped…

And then the thunder started, so we spent about an hour hiding under some overhanging rocks by the stream we were following, rating the thunder on a scale of 1-10. We ended up wet and kind of cold (but we still had our Pim’s so all was not lost). After the rain shower was over, we decided to head back to the car as fast as we could because we saw more rain coming in the distance. When we got back to the car though, we looked back across the valley and I kind of gasped. I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. And then…I painted it.

I think the moral of the story is that even when something uncomfortable or frightening is happening, I need to look around and see the beauty around me even then. Sometimes it’s exquisite. Sometimes it’s worth painting!

Your Opinion Please...

Okay so, I have a question and I’d be really curious about YOUR answer (ALL OF YOU READING THIS). True confessions…I love to explore, and then I love to paint what I find on that exploration. Most of what the visitors to my Asheville studio see on my gallery walls is the result of me painting what my wife Joy and I discover while exploring the western North Carolina mountains.

I was told years ago that what I paint and display in my Asheville studio should be (since it’s western North Carolina we’re talking about) Western North Carolina scenes. If that is really the case, I can be happy with that guideline probably forever. I love this part of the country. I love our gentle mountains. Places like Grandfather Mountain, Gorges State Park, Smoky Mountains National Park, and pretty much any vista seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway — there is far more than one lifetime of potential paintings right here. But…

In your opinion, should I stick mostly to local scenes or when I travel to various parts of the country (or various parts of the world), would you like to see paintings inspired by those places? I love painting. Period. I could probably paint my navel and be happy (but it would not sell). Trust me on that. I need to paint sellable paintings since selling my paintings is what I do to pay my mortgage and buy food to eat. And I like food to eat. I need what I choose to paint to (eventually) be sellable. So do I paint what excites me even if it’s a scene that is set far from an Asheville, North Carolina locale, or should I play it safe and continue to mostly paint local scenes?

That’s my question. And your response here would be SO much appreciated.