Musings of an artist...

I work in one art studio of many art studios in the River Arts District of Asheville, North Carolina. And I do most of my work right in front of my front door (the light is best there and, well, I like to greet people as they come in. And then, after being greeted, the questions start...How did you get interested in art? Why are you an artist? Why are you an oil painter? How did you get started doing this?

And because I have an open studio and work about four feet from the door, I get to talk with visitors all day long, every day. And I'm asked these questions constantly. And honestly, it's really funny. I mean, I would never go to a Christmas wine and cheese party and ask an accountant or dentist or history teacher or lawyer any of these questions. Maybe that's because I'm an introvert but still -- what is the big deal with being an artist? I mean, I do like the attention (okay, I said it). But still, what is this all about?  It's interesting and amusing and humbling all at the same time.

 It's interesting because, well, I was talking to an accountant just today and I am so thankful there are people like her that actually understand numbers! Seriously. I think THAT is mysterious and awesome. I'm just a painter. I play with oil paints all day long. I mostly paint mountain landscapes somewhat specific (but not entirely) to Western North Carolina. I do that (mostly) because I can, and (mostly) because it's fun. It's not at all mystical, it's just really, really fun. Making ledgers balance -- now that is mystical to me. If you're an accountant...thank you. I need you. God bless you.

It's amusing because people come in and see me busy painting and often (in whispers) "Oh, he's working!" This makes me laugh every time. "Yes. I am scooping up paint on this brush and rubbing it all over this canvas here..." But I never say that. I always say (because it's actually true), that this isn't work. This is joy. This is pleasure. And right now, this is my life and I am so, so thankful. But...it still makes me laugh inside when people say this.

And it's humbling because I'm no rock star. I think I'm rather awkward and can be kind of a geek (just ask me about ancient history and be amazed at my geekiness). But that's okay. How many people get paid for doing what they love to do? The answer to that question is why I'm truly humbled at the attention given artists.

And then, there was the visitor yesterday who , upon looking at the oil painting I was working on said, "Well, if I can be honest, I think you're wasting your time".  Ha ha. It takes all kinds.

Winter thoughts

It's almost Spring, right??

I'm sitting here by the window in my house in Ashville, North Carolina looking at the mountains in the distance. Covered in white. Sleety snow is blowing around and clinging to all the trees in my yard. And just a few days ago, it was 70 degrees. I was going to go hiking in the woods today but those plans have changed, and I am now stuck here at home on my day off, looking at the sleety snow fall. Bored.

So in my boredom, I found some poetry that speaks to me. So pour a hot cup of tea, and pretend it's cold (wherever you are) and commiserate with me. Let's read along...

Woods in Winter
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill,
That overbrows the lonely vale.

O'er the bare upland, and away
Through the long reach of desert woods,
The embracing sunbeams chastely play,
And gladden these deep solitudes.

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater's iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay,
And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day!

But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
And gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.

"What makes this painting so sparkly?"

Questions, questions...

I'm asked by a lot of people why I paint local North Carolina landscapes (usually mountains, lakes, rivers and trees) on aluminum leaf, and I explain (at least daily) that it's because aluminum leaf reflects light. Painting on aluminum leaf, I can create a painting that is back-lit. This greatly intensifies the color.  How I came up with that is, well, the fault of a French architect in 1163.

When I was twenty years old, a friend of mine backpacked through Europe with me and during those travels (every American twenty year old should do this trip by the way) we found Paris, and the highlight was Notre-Dame Cathedral.

I was quite surprised to see how large the cathedral actually was. It is hulking and awesome.  Honestly, I didn’t know much about the Notre-Dame apart from the Hunchback that made the place famous.

One side of the cathedral was lined with cafes for people queuing up to go in the church. Interestingly, the chairs of the restaurants were almost all facing outside. I thought it was strange as I would probably prefer to face in towards whoever I was with. If I was alone, I would not face outside, I don’t like strangers in the queue watching me eat.

We got there during Mass ("hey, don't mind us Presbyterians --carry on, carry on"). It was magical. So utterly beautiful. And when Mass was done, I turned to leave and then I saw it: the rose window. Oh my gosh. I'd never seen color do what it was doing as the sun penetrated the colored glass. I remember thinking, "How can I get PAINT to do that?" At the time, this seemed like a ridiculous question because you paint on a canvas and how do you shine light through a canvas, right?

This idea went no where for many years until I saw the Orthodox church answer to stained glass windows: ICONS. Icons are painted on gold. P-A-I-N-T-E-D on gold. Well, I couldn't afford gold so I found aluminum leaf and a new genre of art was born, from a rose window in Paris and a Madonna and child on gold. You never know where a creative muse will lead you. You just follow it and see!

You're From Where?

I grew up in the crowded suburbs of Los Angeles in the sixties and seventies. Los Angeles was hot, crowded and smoggy. I remember days when it hurt to inhale deeply. I remember days when you couldn't see the mountains five miles away. I never liked Los Angeles. I remember coming back from vacation in the High Sierra's and breaking down in tears when I saw the San Fernando Valley stretching out endlessly in front of me. 

Asheville: Home Sweet Home

I chose Asheville, North Carolina because it's such a great place for an artist to do their art thing. Asheville is a small city, located in the Blue Ridge mountains of Western North Carolina. Everything my wife and I like to do is right here: camping, hiking, exploring trails and cool old towns. 

The City of Asheville celebrates the arts in so many, many ways. We celebrate food, beer, fine art, music and literature. It's awesome. It's been voted one of the best places in America to live. Why? Here are some thoughts by Matt Carmichael, a contributing editor of Livability.com. 

Why is Asheville, NC one of the best places to live in America? One consistent truth for the cities atop Livability’s Top 100 Best Places to Live is that there is no one answer to that question. For some, it’s the moderate climate. For others, it’s the arts and crafts in the ever-expanding River Arts District that has long been a draw for visitors and residents alike. For others, it’s the family-friendly atmosphere.

Increasingly, however, the answer is that it’s a great place to live because it’s a great place to eat and drink. In addition to being a two-time honoree on our overall Top 100 Best Places to Live, it also made two of our Top 10 Foodie Cities lists.

“We’re a major foodie city, so you have to go out some place great to eat, which isn’t hard to find,” says Mayor Esther Manheimer,  “but it might be hard to get a reservation.”

Even just 20 or 30 years ago Asheville didn’t see as much investment and “revitalization” as other parts of the state, which turned out to be a good thing. Its population didn’t explode during a time when tearing down and building new was fashionable. Instead its renaissance came during a time of historic preservation and reuse. That means that while the city now is home to a thriving restaurant and brewery scene, it all takes place along streets lined with historic buildings.

Asheville isn’t a big place. Its 90,000 residents and 9 million annual visitors can walk across the downtown in an afternoon, stopping to shop or grab a snack along the way. The Blue Ridge Mountains offer hiking and biking opportunities for the active outdoorsy types and a rolling scenic byway for those who like to take in their nature from behind a windshield. The fall foliage is spectacular enough to have landed Asheville on our Best Places for Fall Foliage ranking, too.

Residents have access to a solid public school system (Great Schools give it an overall 8 out of 10) and traditional health-care options at the Mission Health Systems. However, many residents choose from the array of alternative healing options, such as meditation and yoga at the Asheville Salt Cave.

Despite its popularity and rapid growth, housing remains affordable for most in Asheville with a median home price of less than $200,000. New development is an ongoing concern in town, but the city is doing its best to address the need for new housing with the desire to keep the city livable.

“We’re not creating land-locked sprawl situations,” says Mayor Manheimer. “We want things to be integrated, so people can get out, move around, and interact in their community in meaningful way and a healthy way.”

"No Boundaries"

The Great Smoky Mountains

Becoming a national park was not easy for the Great Smokies. Joining the National Park System took a lot of money and the hard work of thousands of people. Establishing most of the older parks located in the western United States, such as Yellowstone, was fairly easy. Congress merely carved them out of lands already owned by the government—often places where no one wanted to live anyway. But getting park land in this area was a different story. The land that became Great Smoky Mountains National Park was owned by hundreds of small farmers and a handful of large timber and paper companies.

A New Idea

The idea to create a national park in these mountains started in the late 1890s. A few farsighted people began to talk about a public land preserve in the cool, healthful air of the southern Appalachians. A bill even entered the North Carolina Legislature to this effect, but failed. By the early 20th century, many more people in the North and South were pressuring Washington for some kind of public preserve.

Efforts to create a national park became successful in the mid-1920s, with most of the hard-working supporters based in Knoxville, Tennessee and Asheville, North Carolina. Surprisingly, motorists had the biggest role in the push for a national park. The newly formed auto clubs, mostly branches of the AAA, were interested in good roads through beautiful scenery on which they could drive their shiny new cars.

In May, 1926, a bill was signed by President Calvin Coolidge that provided for the establishment of Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Shenandoah National Park. This allowed the Department of the Interior to assume responsibility for administration and protection of a park in the Smokies as soon as 150,000 acres of land had been purchased.

Since the government was not allowed to buy land for national park use, the former political boosters became fund raisers. In the late 1920s, the Legislatures of Tennessee and North Carolina appropriated $2 million each for land purchases. Additional money was raised by individuals, private groups, and even school children who pledged their pennies. By 1928, a total of $5 million had been raised. The Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial Fund matched what had been raised and donated $5 million, assuring the purchase of the remaining land.

But buying the land was difficult, even with the money in hand. There were thousands of small farms, large tracts, and other miscellaneous parcels that had to be surveyed and appraised. The timber and paper companies had valuable equipment and standing inventory which required compensation. Worse, in some ways, were the emotional losses to people who had to walk away from their homes. Lifetime leases allowed some people to stay temporarily, particularly if they were too old or too sick to move. Others could be granted leases on a short-term basis. However, they could not cut timber, hunt and trap at will, or otherwise live as they always had.

The facts about this place (to me anyway) are interesting, but the real interest is the nitty-gritty history of this place. People lived out their lives here. They composed their music here, wrote their stories here and crafted their poems here. And walking the trails, you can still make out the presence of the past if you listen...

There’s an old weather bettion house
That stands near a wood
With an orchard near by it
For almost one hundred years it has stood

It was my home in infency
It sheltered me in youth
When I tell you I love it
I tell you the truth

For years it has sheltered
By day and night
From the summer’s sun heat
And the cold winter blight

But now the park commisioner
Comes all dressed up so gay
Saying this old house of yours
We must now take away

They coax they wheedle
They fret they bark
Saying we have to have this place
For a National Park

For us poor mountain people
They don’t have a care
But must a home for
The wolf the lion and the bear

But many of us have a tltle
That is sure and will hold
To the City of Peace
Where the streets are pure gold

There no lion in its fury
Those pathes ever trod
It is the home of the soul
In the presence of God

When we reach the portles
of glory so fair
The Wolf cannot enter
Neither the lion or bear

And no park Commissioner
Will ever dar
To desturbe or molest
Or take our home from us there

-By Louisa Walker

Appalachian Trail

The Appalachian Trail is the longest "hiking only" footpath in the world, and extends from Georgia to Maine. Some of our favorite places to hike in North Carolina cross-cross the AT here and there. This painting is from one of my favorite balds near the border of Tennessee.

Living as an artist in Western North Carolina, the Appalachian Trail is never far, and is always an inspiration for my oil paintings. I simply never run out of creative fodder! In thinking about this awesome trail, and the amazing adventures found upon it, the landscapes, the trees, the rivers and the mountains, it seemed like I needed a poem to really do it justice.  (See some of my favorite hikes in the area)

Endless Ranges

The month of February I will begin

a trek through woods as wide as the seas,

from the foothills of Georgia 

to rock altars in the mountains of Maine,

a pilgrimage of whole hearted discovery.

I shall walk on this Appalachian trail,

following the blazes of white,

beneath the wide open sky,

gazing north, always north 

across wide rivers, rocky ridges, and green meadows.

Twenty-two hundred miles it is,

twenty-two hundred miles to reach the end.

From this point on I now must find the will

to go onward every day until Autumn’s chill,

with the last days my youth has left to lend me.

And in these lonely months of walking,

when I’m lost amidst fog draped mountain peaks

timeless truths I hope to find as I am quiet and just listen --

to the whisper of branches, the gurgling of the stream,

the roaring wind -- listen for The Voice. He is here.

This trail I trek not because I’m bold or brave,

but from fear of that days when I've grown old,

I will with regret, I’ll only quietly sigh

because of the unlived life that has passed me.

This is an adventure is not one I can ignore.

While I do not know if I shall succeed,

I do ask the reader -- listen!

Live your one-time Life. Really live!

And should you find your path twine across my own,

Welcome home. 

What is 'good' art?

There are different answers to that question, which doesn’t surprise me. What does surprise me is that even asking the question scandalizes some people. I’ve heard folks say things like, “there’s no such thing as good art or bad art. Art comes from inside the soul. How can you judge that?” So before I even begin to take a stab at answering the question “what is good art?” Let me first defend the right to ask the question in the first place.

You Can Judge Art??

To begin with, let me say that yes, it’s completely improper to criticize the self-expressive art of a six-year-old. A six-year-old cannot produce good or bad art. To a parent, it’s all beautiful. It can’t be judged. The same could be said for someone who enjoys dabbling in watercolor or oil paint for fun or self-expression. Painting, sculpting, practicing the piano… is all fun and personally, I would encourage anyone to explore their creativity—society would be healthier for it. But not all art is like that. The art of a college student earning his painting degree should be judged and analyzed. The work of a professional artist is judged all the time, and rightly so, because he has submitted it to the public eye, not simply as self-expression, but as true art—as expression of something transcendent. If you handed me a page from your diary, it would be completely inane for me to redline a spelling error. On the other hand, if I were a creative writing instructor and you were my student, it would be kosher for me to mark up your essay. Indeed, I would be a poor teacher if I did not, even if it were a good essay. So whether we can judge art is entirely dependent on our context. In the right context, we are free to make certain judgments. In fact, we judge all the time, and that’s not inherently problematic. Does everyone sing equally well? Are all poets equally skilled? If you have a favorite restaurant or a favorite beer or favorite movie or a favorite band or a favorite anything, you’re judging—you’re praising something as superior to something else, or to everything else. We judge, and that’s simply the truth. Some things are better than other things, and it is inconsistent, even dishonest, to pretend otherwise. So can we judge art? We do, whether we think we can or not. What we need most, then, is to critique and analyze our criteria. The criteria which we use to judge between good and poor art will be the subject of my next few posts.

A Trip to the Art Museum

Have you ever felt intimidation stepping into an art gallery? Have you been to a modern art museum and felt like a cultural moron, stuck wondering, “why is this oil painting even in here, and who decided this is art?” If your answer is ‘yes’ to either question, read on.

I’ve heard people say things like “with art, there are no mistakes. It’s all art” (and this assertion is ridiculous). You see, contrary to the opinion of those who esteem themselves as culturally elite postmoderns, art has rules. Don’t get me wrong…you can haphazardly throw paint on a canvas and it may be great therapy, but it’s not necessarily great art.

Think about it...

Consider, we don’t approach any other creative endeavor with the assumption that “there are no rules – there are no mistakes!” Can I record myself pounding on a piano and expect to go platinum? Can I string together 50 random words from Webster’s dictionary call that poetry? Can I close my eyes, dig through my refrigerator, pull out great gobs of mystery contents, whip up something special on the stove, and call that cooking? It may be special but not likely edible. And that’s because music has rules and poetry has rules and cooking has rules and if you break those rules you have a mess. It should be no surprise then that creating artwork is exactly the same way.

Rules can be our friends...

There are rules and it takes time and painstaking work to master these rules. But with mastery, they can form an incubator for truly great artwork. Let me be honest. I don’t think everything heralded as art is truly art. I think a great deal of confusion happens when we don’t make a distinction between “art” and “visual expression”. Visual expression does not have to conform to any rules at all. It can be shocking. It can be crude. It can be poorly executed. It doesn’t matter. Visual expression needs only to say something and make you think (e.g. graffiti spray painted on a wall to incite rebellion or express angst).  The confusion arises when visual expression winds up in art museums. Don’t let that intimidate or confuse you. It may be a powerful visual expression, and it may be valid. Please listen to it. Try to understand what it means. Maybe it is completely inane and nonsensical (but maybe that’s how its creator views their world, so it can still be insightful). But you don’t have to process someone’s visual expression like you would process true art. Visual expression seeks to communicate, but without reference to the rules of design and beauty. I believe true art recognizes the rules and design within the universe and works within the grain of these patterns to create something beautiful and emotive.

Art has rules and structure. Those rules and that structure provide a framework for for the creation of something truly amazing.

"The Rules" of Art

Art: The Process of Creating an Oil Painting

I recall an episode of Downton Abby where a certain gentleman made a glaring fashion blunder by wearing a white tuxedo vest. Obviously, he should have known better—should have known to wear the black vest. The family was scandalized and horribly embarrassed for him. I can only imagine.

Rules that dictate behavior in “high society” are often comical, and it’s easy to question their validity at all. Aren’t norms arbitrary and man-made? If society banded together, we could all just as well decide that it’s proper to wear orange vests to our dinner parties, and then that would be the right choice, right? The truth is, some rules are like that. And some aren’t. Some rules are really more conventions than rules. But the rules I want to proceed to discuss here – the rules of art, are far from arbitrary or man-made. We artists take our cue from nature itself. Nature – the way things work, the way things are put together – is what dictates the standards for beauty. I’d like you to study this photo:

This is a oil painting by John William Waterhouse entitled “The Lady of Shalott”. Look at the painting and notice where your eyes are led and where they rest. Are you haplessly scanning the piece, with nowhere for your eyes to land? Probably not. If you’re like most people, your eyes will immediately fall on the face, and then wander to the golden prow of the boat, and then follow the gentle curve of said boat, up the figure to rest once again at the girl's face. Your eye does this for a reason. The painter, John William Waterhouse, used a device called the Golden Section when he composed this piece. The Golden Section (also known as the Golden Ratio or the Divine Proportion) is an almost magical ratio. Mathematically, it is the ratio 62:38. This ratio is found all over nature, all over art, all over everything we deem beautiful. The Golden Section is the most aesthetically pleasing division of space. Looking up at the above photo again, start at the right side and trace your eyes over 62% of the way to the left. That point corresponds to the placement of the woman’s face. Start from the bottom of the photo and measure out 62% and you’ll find your eyes again stop at the woman’s face. Your eyes naturally fall on her because they are carried there by this intersection of two very important mathematical divisions. But there is another reason your eyes are drawn to rest upon the woman’s head. Waterhouse employed not only the Golden Section in the composition of his piece but also his knowledge of contrast. Your eye will always travel to where the lightest light and the darkest dark meet. There is a reason the Lady is wearing white and the sun is shining bright on the top of her head: this creates the point of greatest contrast in the painting against the dark background of the trees. The result is that your eyes are not scrambling but resting naturally at the exact point the artist predetermined to draw them.   I might also mention the use of complementary colors in this painting. Complementary colors are opposites on the color wheel and a complementary color is used to either balance the predominate color or to accent it. Look at the painting again. The predominant colors in this piece are muted greens but he also uses the complement of muted reds. In the water we see blues and violets and that is complemented with the golds and yellows. All this to say: this painting was not haphazardly assembled. Waterhouse worked within The Rules and created a masterpiece.  

...Good art is that it is always created with skill

The last thing I’ll say about good art is that it is always created with skill. There should be somewhat of a mystery about it. When standing in front of a beautifully painted piece of art you should be prompted to awe and wonder, asking the question, “how did he or she do that?” To be honest, much of the artwork in modern times leaves me asking no such question. There is no mystery and no obvious skill. Such art neither commands my respect nor holds my interest. Art that will be remembered throughout history is not that which ignores the rules, nor that which becomes tirelessly bogged down with the rules. No, art that lasts will be that which so internalizes the rules that it moves beyond them, synthesizing and remixing them into new focal points of beauty—new reinventions of that created order which was there from the beginning, but which is inexhaustible in its number of true expressions.

To School or Not to School...

School of Art 

Now and then, I am asked by aspiring young artists if I have any recommendations for an art school to learn to paint landscape or abstract art. The answer to that question is always quite difficult… 

…If a person is gifted creatively, a fine arts major could be extremely beneficial, or it could destroy their potential. It depends on who they are, how they’re wired, and what they’re looking for. One would think that the goal of a fine arts degree would be to learn all the necessary tools for making a living as an artist, right? This would seem like a realistic expectation given the tens of thousands of dollars mommy and daddy are spending for the degree. I mean really, why spend all that time and effort and money just to graduate and flip burgers at McDonalds? (or rather, flip burgers while paying interest on a $60,000 student loan). But this happens all the time, and it’s rarely for a lack of talent.

An option I think everyone would do well to consider is to look for an accomplished artist and ask them to mentor you. Then, go to school and learn something that would help you as an artist (like marketing or business) and all along, learn your craft from your mentor. This is how they did it back in the day and may make a whole lot of sense to bring back. 

But if you're dead set on going to art school, here are my suggestions:

First of all...

First, get online and take a look at artwork of the actual art students. That will tell you a lot. You might think the artwork looks really cool, but the question you need to ask yourself is: does this artwork look like anything anyone would actually purchase and put in there home? I know… I know… even asking that question will insult some aspiring artists, but more than likely I’m saving them from a lifetime of burger flipping. Now, if all you want to do is visually express yourself and you don’t give a wit about making a living actually doing art, then none of this applies to you. The people I’m writing to are those who want to be trained to make a living by learning a skill. For that to happen, you need to learn to make work that others value. Makes sense, right? It’s not rocket science.

Then...

Once you find a school that looks promising, call that school and schedule a tour. A lot of schools will even allow you to sit in on a class, which can be extraordinarily helpful. You’ll be able to tell right away whether the instructors are training students in a new skill or just touting “unconfined expression”. If they are doing the latter, their whole venture is self-refuting—they are building their program on the false premise that art isn't a skill, but if that were truly the case, you wouldn’t need to go to school for it in the first place.

IN CLOSING...

The most important thing to stress is that all of us would do well with input, advice and encouragement from someone who does what we want to do better than we do it (whether we're talking brain surgeons, journalists, actors, dentists or artists). Get input and encouragement. And if you try to do that at an art school, choose carefully. The right school can be a really great find (and the wrong one will be a waste of countless thousands of dollars).