And the Next Blog Post is...

I’ve been blogging since 2016, and to me, that’s amazing. I had no idea I had that much to talk about. When I opened up my art studio here in Asheville, I was told in the beginning that blogging was important, so I’ve tried to be consistent but recently I’ve had a had a hard time coming up with an interesting topic. I’m an artist, not a rocket scientist or a biotech engineer, so what I do in my art studio (talking to clients, hanging new paintings in my art gallery, talking with other artists in Asheville’s River Arts District, coming up with new ideas for new creative endeavors), while a lot of fun for me, does not seem like it would be interesting to anyone but myself. Is answering another question about what the “shiny stuff” is on top of my paintings “blog worthy”? I don’t know. But I suspect that just because something is an “everyday” and “normal” task to me as an artist, does not necessarily mean those things are not blog worthy. So…

“…what would YOU like to know?”

So rather than wracking my brain for something that I think might be interesting to a reader, I’m going to just ask the reader what would be interesting to them. I am an artist…an oil painter…I made up a technique I call “Dialuminism”. Dear reader, what else would you like to know? I’ll still come up with topics I would like to explore, but I really do want to regularly be asking gallery and website visitors what THEY would find interesting.

Anyone want to start??

How to Create the Perfect Painting

“Your compositions seem…comfortable,” said a recent studio visitor. He went on, wondering out loud, “I’m not sure what I even mean. They have nice proportions”. Little did this gentleman know, but he just wandered into one of the subjects I truly geek out over: the Golden Section. Look it up. You’ll probably geek out too. It’s the secret to perfect proportions.

This is not just some ancient and obscure math formula. It is literally the language by which the universe was designed.

As a kid, I hated math. It was dry, dead and boring. But as I grew up, I came to realize that math was handy. You can balance a checkbook (if you really need to) with math. I had no idea that math could actually be elegant and beautiful. With math, you can construct perfection. With math, you can design using the the Golden Section (also called the Golden Mean and Divine Proportion). What is the Golden Section? Imagine a line (C) that is cut into two sections: a longer section (A) and a shorter section (B). When the ratio of the whole line (C) to the longer segment (A) is equal to the ratio of the longer segment (A) to the  shorter segment (B), THAT ratio is the golden section. It is the ratio: 62:38 or 1:1.618.

This is not just some ancient and obscure math formula. It is literally the language by which the universe was designed. That’s a really big deal. Let me illustrate. 

If you take the average height of a human and divided it into two (using the golden section), you locate the navel. 

If you take the average distance from your shoulder to you fingertips and divide your arm into two sections (using the golden section), you locate your elbow. Divide the distance between your elbow and your fingertips (using the golden section) and you locate your wrist. Keep dividing and you locate each knuckle all the way to the end. 

If you take the length of a dolphin, and divide it into two (using the golden section), you locate the dorsal fin. 

The Golden Section was used to design the footprint for the pyramid complex of Giza as well as the actual shape of the pyramids. See, if you draw a ling straight down from the tip of the pyramid to the ground, and then from that point to the outside edge of the pyramid, THAT is the golden section. This ratio was used in the design of the parthenon and the Arc of the Covenant in the Bible, and innumerable cathedrals constructed over the centuries. 

This ratio is even found in nature. If you take the distance from the sun to the orbit of Venus, and divide that distance in two (using the golden section), you locate the orbit of Mercury. If you take the distance from the sun to Earth and divide that distance in two (using the golden section), you locate the orbit of Venus. This works clear out to the orbit of Venus. You can even see the Golden Section in the spacing of the rings of Saturn. 

So what? Well, for some reason, that proportion is the “gold standard” of pleasing proportions. The closer to that proportion you get, the happier your eye will be. And so, knowing that, find a painting or photo you really like. It could be depicting nature or architecture. If that photo is “pleasing to look at”, chances are, the Golden Section is all over it like an invisible scaffolding holding up the visible artwork (or edifice). 

Because of all this, I am regularly using math to plan my compositions. Take the height of my painting, say 24”. To locate the horizon, I’ll calculate 38% of that total distance, and draw the horizon line 9-1/8” up from the bottom. To locate the tall tree I want as the focal point of the painting, I’ll draw a line over from the edge that is 38% of the overall width of the canvas. Using this ratio as a guide, I’m sure to design a painting that will eventually be proportioned as close to perfection as I can get it. The rest is just slapping some paint in the right places and voila, a perfect painting! Easy, right?

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!)

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.

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).

Q&A: SESSION ONE

If you've read my blog at all, you know that many of the posts address some (sometimes weird) question I'm asked at my studio. Since these days, my studio is closed to the public, I put the word out that I need your input. 

I'm opening the door to any and all questions. This may be good fodder for many blog posts! So think about it...if there's anything you want to know about me, my art, my art background, living in Asheville, ANYTHING.

Questions and Answers:

Question 1: Do you have a favorite painting that you could never part with?

Ooooo. Good question, but easy to answer. No, sort of. The whole reason I paint is to sell what I create and thereby support myself that way. I.e. I don’t have a “real” job. This IS my real job, so I need to pay close attention to which paintings and themes are getting the most interest in my studio and let that interest guide me as I dream up new ideas and themes.

That said, there are two paintings I’ve done that I will be heartbroken when they sell. One is my largest piece so far (a 6’ x 8’ waterfall that took 13 months to complete) and the other is a bridge at Giverny (Claude Monet’s home and garden). I’d kind of rather neither of them sold, but…Joy will hit me if I don’t have a price tag on them so…they’re for sale as “premium” pieces (meaning I’ll never discount them).

“Cullasaja Falls” (72” x 96”)

“Le rêve d'été de Giverny” (36” x 48”)

Question 2: Do you make your own canvases? Like the one in the picture, you would not normally find that on the shelf at Hobby Lobby.

I have a friend of mine make the panels for me. Because the weight of the materials I use to create my artwork (modeling compound and resin) will bow the canvas in the center, the canvas has to be backed with a then sheet of plywood. So, every panel is custom created, which means the size and proportions are not limited by what is “in stock” at the art store. I can get whatever size I order. That’s awesome.

Question 3: Have either you or Joy ever tossed away a half - finished work, completely disgusted and convinced that it is not going to turn out right, and then wished that you'd kept at it and finished it?

Not exactly. There are some pieces both Joy and I have gotten to about half-completed and realized it was not going to be improved with any amount of artistic cajoling, so we then rip the canvas off the panel, re-stretch the canvas and begin all over again. I’ve never, ever been sorry I’ve done that, because the second time I approach that theme (the re-do) is always so much better. I’ve even completely finished a piece, hung it on the wall for a few days and realize I hate looking at it. It doesn’t happen often, but I rip the painting off the backer panel and start over in that case as well. I want absolutely everything hanging on my studio walls to represent the very best I can create. If I know that’s not the case, I’ll start all over again.

That’s all for this entry…more questions and answers to come. If you have a question for me — personal, creative, technique, anything…just ask. I’ll answer every question I get. :)

"Can I Watch You?"

Me and my assistant, Asher St.Claire

People visiting my River Arts District studio in Asheville, North Carolina were surprised when I told them where I was spending my winter. My studio hours are reduced this time of year and my awesome and capable assistant Brenna welcomes visitors for me every Friday, Saturday and Monday until mid-March when I arrive back in Asheville until next winter. “Dallas, Texas?” they’d exclaim. “Why?” Well, it’s not because of the natural beauty of the state. I feel sorry for it. It does have a raw and very simple beauty but honestly, let’s not argue about it. The second best thing about Texas is the BBQ and that’s it. The first best thing is that three out of our four kids live here, right next door to each other and we live life with family all around us (including eight of our ten grand children). Every day, painting gets pushed aside by running outside and hugging these kids as they scooter by the house.

It is such a life source for Joy and I. Rather than distracting us from creativity, that closeness greatly enhances creativity for me, because my “tank” is so full here. Ideas are ignited and new concepts are experimented with. It’s just than rather than being asked how I get my shiny finish or asked to explain what aluminum leaf is, I get asked if I want to watch them try out their new beyblade. I love it.

My first set of 2020 commissions are about done now and my next set is ready to start next week. And looking ahead to the challenges of the rest of the year, I’m really excited about the results of experiments I’m tried over the last few weeks. These experiments have included playing with layering of paint (trying to keep as much light penetrating as possible) and more texture, applying a higher relief than I’ve worked with before. The result gives even more depth to each piece.

So despite the sweet distractions all day long, I am getting more accomplished here than when I’m back in Asheville, and that’s an awesome validation that this “winter art studio” idea was a good one!

An Impractical Idea

Soon to be “The Bridge” (36” x 48”)

As I was sitting in my studio as the new year was just beginning, I was mulling over the past year and thinking in terms of “what do I want to do different in 2020?” Most of the time, I’m blissfully content just doing what I’m used to doing, but that can be dangerous as an artist. Look at some of the big name artists in recent history and you’ll see what I mean. Someone starts painting a charming little cabin in the woods with a beautiful sunset behind it and warm lights shining in the windows. Nice. But then that person (not mentioning names here) becomes super famous for his cabins and soon, that’s all he paints. Sounds financially lucrative (just painting the same thing over and over again is easy) but it sounds really boring. Boring is not why I’m an artist. It’s not my ultimate goal in life.

“…I have to pay close attention to people’s comments and purchases…”

As a full-time artist in (I think) the most awesome community of artists anywhere in the world (there are over 220 artists in Asheville’s River Arts District), I am very aware of what people are drawn to as far as my paintings go. I come up with what I think is a great idea and if it sells, it WAS a great idea. Sometimes they don’t sell, so I strip off the canvas and start all over again. That doesn’t happen often but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t happen sometimes. But because when I finish a painting and hang it on the wall, I’m right there working as people come in and visit my studio (and view my artwork). I can hear their reaction to my artwork and that’s super helpful in figuring out what people are drawn to. Because I’m financially dependent on SELLING my artwork, I have to pay close attention to people’s comments and purchases, and for the most part, that dictates what I paint in the future. Some might call me a sell-out but that’s not the case. I love painting and I don’t really care what it is I’m painting. If I’m painting, I’m having fun. But for the most part, I try to be attentive to what people will actually purchase, and my prices are guided by the quantity of work I sell (supply and demand).

But every now and then, I make an exception to this rule. On New Years day as I was sitting in my studio mulling over life, a voice in my head seemed to whisper “make more exceptions to your rule this year”. Well, who am I to silence that little voice? So the afternoon of January 1, I prepped my canvas and pulled out one of my favorite photos I took in France. The photo is of what is probably the most famous Japanese bridge in the world: Monet’s bridge in his lily pond in Giverny (just northwest of Paris). I have spent more time applying the texture than I ever take. But for these “exception” paintings, time will not matter. This piece (pictured here) is now ready for the Italian aluminum leaf to be applied, followed by countless layers of oil paint.

This is not a “practical” idea, and I love that. This year, my goal is to complete at least three “impractical” pieces. How’s that for a New Year’s resolution? Watch out 2020!

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.

What Was Art School Like?

Art Center College of Design, Pasadena, CA

The other day, a family of five came into my art studio in Asheville. They’d been browsing in and out of the different art studios in the River Arts District and had a lot to say about the artwork they’d seen and artists they’d met. Super nice people. This couple’s son said he was interested in pursuing art as a career and Jim (the dad) asked me if I’d been to art school for training and if so, what was it really like? Was it worth it? Oooooo. Good blog post idea!

So, I’ll try to condense what was a half hour conversation into a short blog.

I really think that if it’s the “right” art school, it can be really valuable to an artist. “Self-taught” is fine, don’t get me wrong. No one taught me the technique I’m known for in my artwork. I made it up. But…I made it up using the tools I got from my education. I went to Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, CA. It was extraordinarily challenging but was definitely an amazing experience. I absolutely loved college. One of the things I learned there was to be organized with my time (a valuable tool I’ve used ever since). The work load was so intense and the pressure on the students was incredible. The years I attended, Art Center was ranked #2 (right behind Harvard School of Law) in terms of stress level on the students.

“Crit time” reduced us college students to tears…”

This was also the place I learned to take artistic criticism. I had to either learn to take critique or emotionally crumble! See, upon completion of our assignment, we would post our work on the walls around the classroom. Then we’d each present our assignment, and each of the other students would take turns expressing what was right and what was wrong with what we’d done. There was none of this “now remember, with art, there are NO MISTAKES”. Don’t believe it. “Crit time” reduced us college students to tears. It was brutal and really, really helpful (if you opened up to listening).

The other really helpful thing we learned was about the correct way to compose a piece of art. Did you know there are good and bad color combinations and good and bad compositions for a painting? Oh yes. We learned color theory and we learned about the laws (google "the Golden Section” sometime) that govern makes a pleasing composition of a piece of art. When I got to this point, Jim (the dad in my now captive audience) asked “What about abstract art? Would those rules apply to types of art other than landscapes or still life?” Oh my gosh, YES. Color and good composition are all you have with an abstract painting. Knowing the rules is even MORE important in an abstract.

My time at art college was amazing. I so appreciate the instructors, the brutal critique (though I didn’t enjoy that at the time) and the awesome life-long friends I made there. Because of all that, I’m able to now paint full-time and live in an awesome place like Asheville (and talk to nice families coming into my art studio asking me about my experience at art school. :)