Fun with Art Scammers

Here’s an interesting email just received:

Greetings! My name is Brad Robinson from Austin, Texas I actually observed my wife has been viewing your website on my laptop and i guess she likes your piece of work, I'm also impressed and amazed to have seen your various works too.You are doing a great job. I would like to receive further information about your piece of work and what inspires you. I am very much interested in the purchase of your pieces to surprise my wife. Kindly confirm the availability of beautiful pieces for immediate sales.

Thanks and best regards, Brad

This is a classic email from an art scammer. Iterations of this same email are sent to unsuspecting (and sometimes trusting) artists all over the country. I literally get a version of this exact email (these scammers are not very creative) every week. I usually either delete the email or write something snide back to them indicating that they should be ashamed of themselves for treating people this way, or asking them how the weather was in Russia.

This week…I was in the mood to play…

This week though, I was in the mood to play (and waste their time). This is how it all went down (the scammer’s email is in bold, and my responses are in regular type):

My name is Larry from Phoenix was looking for some artwork online and i found your contact while searching. I will like to purchase some of your work for my wife as a surprise gift for our 20th anniversary. Please send pics and prices of some of your art which are ready for immediate sale within price range $200- $1000 I hope to hear a lot more about any available piece in your inventory ready for immediate sale.

Thanks and best regards, Larry

Me: Oh! How nice!

“Larry”: Believe you work as an artist,If yes forward to me your works. Where do you live?.

Me: Yes I do! Thank you so much!

“Larry”: Alright, i will be waiting for the pictures so we can proceed further. Thanks

Me: Can you send me pictures too? I love pictures.

“Larry”: I want to see the pictures you have so we can proceed further. Thanks

Me: What would you like to see?

“Larry”: Some pictures of your work within the price range so we can proceed further. Thanks

Me: What kind of paintings do you want? I have lots of them.

“Larry”: You can choose please from what you have available for immediate purchase.

Me: It’s hard for me to choose. I like all of them.

“Larry”: How about your paintings called “Autumn Day Afternoon” and “Morning Light in the Woods”? I will like to purchase both. What is your price?

Me: They’re sold.

“Larry”: Can you send me please some photos and prices of paintings you have available that are not sold?

Me: Actually, I can do better than that Larry. I have an art agent in Phoenix and he said he can meet with you to show you several very nice paintings in your price range. Please feel free to give him a call! His name is William Abernathy and can be reached at (623) 466-1999. I know you'll be delighted. Please let me know which painting you end up purchasing for your wife! :)

__________________________________

I never did hear back from “Larry”. The number I gave him was for the Phoenix office of the FBI. SURPRISE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just done when it’s done, right?

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

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

The piece I had to paint: "Côte d’Azur"

“Côte d’Azur” NFS

When my mother-in-law passed away a couple years ago now, she placed some money (aside from what was in the will) to each of her children and asked that it be used for travel. For Joy and I (especially as artists), this was an amazingly generous gift, and the choice of locations to travel to was a pretty easy decision to make: Provence. I say it was easy because so many artists (like Cezanne, Claude Monet, Paul Cezanne, Henri Matisse, and Pablo Picasso) were drawn to this place and we wanted to see if Provence lived up to all the hype. It did.

As painters with an open art studio in Asheville’s River Arts District, we are constantly dreaming, creating, sketching out ideas (and throwing some of those ideas out) and painting the best of those ideas. And especially in the summer time, (our busy tourist season) it can become exhausting. By the end of July, I always start to feel the need to recharge. I absolutely love the fact that my job requires me to visually express my response to the natural beauty all around me. I’m mostly a landscape painter, and there is so much natural beauty here in western North Carolina. But as I said, by mid-summer I am beginning to feel drained. When we feel that way, we know we need to take some time and get out of the studio (if just for a day) and go hiking; to recharge that creative battery.

So when the opportunity arose for us to take an extended break from reality, we took it. For three amazing weeks, Joy and I wandered around Provence, exploring hill-top villages, bike riding, sketching, and sampling a lot of local bread, cheese and wine. :)

One of the absolute highlights for us though was to explore the Côte d’Azur (a fancy name for the French Riviera). I just think “French Riviera” sounds ridiculously snooty, whereas Côte d’Azur sounds exotic. It was. One of Joy’s goals was to swim in the Mediterranean (pretty much on her bucket list I think). So I read up on the best beaches in the area and it sounded like finding a small or secluded beach was impossible. But…

One of the days, I found what looked like a foot trail around a peninsula just east of Nice, France (where we were staying). There were no write-ups about it but on Google maps, you can zoom down and explore on “street view” to see what it looks like “on the ground”. It looked like a great place to spend the day on a six mile walk, so that’s what we did. What we discovered though was blue heaven. It was amazing. We found a little beach where we had our picnic lunch (all by ourselves) and then later, a little pebble beach for our first swim in the Mediterranean, again, completely alone. What I saw once diving down was unbelievable to me: the blue. I’d never seen water look like that. Never. I thought I knew what ocean water looks like…kind of a grey green color. But this was absolutely crystal clear, and when you dove down and looked out into the deeper water, I was met with the most intense blue I’d ever seen. The thought struck me “I HAVE TO PAINT THIS!” so I began diving down…over and over and over (probably 30 times or more), just trying to permanently engrave the colors into my head. And then, as soon as we got back state side, I began painting.

Today, that painting is done. And…it is going to hang in my home, because it (as closely as I can remember) depicts what I saw on that day in the south of France in the waters of the Mediterranean: perfection in blue.

Inspiration Everywhere!

Since I usually paint somewhat local scenes, our hike last week was poignant. It was awesome. Amazing. And quiet…so quiet. Oh my gosh, to get alone (for several hours) in the woods and listen to the silence and drink it all in…that is amazing.

As (mostly) a landscape painter in western North Carolina (Asheville in particular), I am always on the lookout for really great nature scenes. Our hike last week along Daniel Ridge was just exactly what I needed. Quiet. Tranquil…and still very green. Usually, we have a bit of autumn color on the trees but this year it is quite late. I’m sure this has nothing to do with global warming or anything like that but still…autumn colors are late. But in last week, hiking in the verdant green…all was well. Very well.

As an artist, as an oil painter who usually focuses on the landscape of western North Carolina (in general) and Asheville vicinity (in specific), I need to pay attention to the fact that I need to “drink in” if I’m to be producing. Last week on the Daniel Ridge Trail was exactly what I needed. I got visually drunk. Drunk with awesome God-made beauty.

Contentment vs Restlessness

It seems that one of the goals of every world religion, philosophy and self-help guru is the propagation of inner contentment. I love that all too seldom cherished inner quiet. The search for that illusive contentment is why I go hiking as much as I do, but it honestly seems that the world, though preaching the value of contentment, is dead set against us actually experiencing it. I mean really, turn on the TV or listen to the radio or go to the mall and we are constantly and ruthlessly bombarded with the message “you are not content! But…THIS will make you feel content!” The thing is, nearly EVERYTHING is sold with the promise of contentment, and because we’re so desperate for it, we buy “it” (whatever it is). Then we feel a moment of bliss (maybe) and then in moments, “it” gets old and no longer delivers any contentment at all.

In no way do I want to diminish the longing for contentment. I could not do that even if I tried. My faith informs me that every human being was created for absolute contentment, but that the whole system is broken now and humankind currently is cut off from the very source of contentment. And so we long for the very thing we run from. This is the ultimate conundrum.

Restlessness has fueled every quest and exploration and is responsible for all the innovation of our race.

However, I don’t think the concept of restlessness is the opposite of contentment. I think ingratitude, entitlement and greed are the opposite of that inner peace we value and search for, but I don’t really think restlessness qualifies as the opposite. Honestly, my opinion is that restlessness is to an artist what life blood is to a living creature: it feeds and stimulates the creation of something amazing and beautiful and life-giving. What I’m most afraid of is to become too “comfortable” and “complacent”, that I stop longing for something new, dreaming of something better and pursuing something of greater value and beauty. For the most part, I think restlessness has fueled every quest and exploration and is responsible for all the innovation of our race.

So, we may well sit and think of all that we have, all that we’ve achieved (or have been given, depending on your own outlook on such matters) and we can feel a sense of immense gratitude, peace and contentment. And the next moment begin wondering “but I wonder what would happen if I tried THIS?”. Can restlessness and contentment become friends? I believe so. I don’t think one negates the other at all. In fact, I think that true contentment and gratitude creates a quiet place in our minds and in that quiet, dreams are born and imagination can explode.

As an artist, as a painter, I paint mostly landscapes. I love my studio in Asheville’s River Arts District. I love creating artwork in that context, amidst such a great group (over 220) of artists with open studios. It feels tempting to just get comfortable with what I do; to get comfortable with what sells and to become predictable. But then I’d never feel restless, and though comfortable, I’d stop truly creating. And I would more closely resemble an assembly line worker than an artist.

I’m an artist, and I long for contentment. But I am trying to experience contentment in the context of a sublime restlessness that never seems to stop looking around the next turn in the road. What’s there? Is it the same as here? Let’s go and see. That mindset fuels all my creativity and I think compliments the inner quiet I (sometimes) truly experience in life.

"Why Should I Purchase Artwork?"

As an artist with an open studio, there are lots of questions I get asked from people who are visiting Asheville’s River Arts District. Sometime, I should make a list of the funniest (i.e. strangest!) questions I get asked but that’s for another blog post. :)

There is one question out there that is very rarely asked but is actually a valid question: Why should I purchase artwork? I almost think that if you’re asking that question, you probably shouldn’t be buying artwork. You should just go home to your concrete cube, turn on your single light bulb in the middle of the cube, sit down on your mat and stare at the wall and drink your protein smoothie. What? You have a nice house on a hillside with a nice view? You have a wide screen TV? You have granite countertops in your kitchen? Why? Is that necessary? As far as basic human needs go, we just need shelter (a roof and preferably some walls). Is the rest necessary? As far as basic human needs go, we just need food. Are herbs and spices necessary? Is awesome flavor “necessary”?

Is artwork a good investment? Yes. Absolutely every time.

Why have a nice house? Why have a nice car? Why have anything other than what is absolutely necessary? Simply because those extra things give us joy. Why sprinkle herbs de Provence on your chicken? Those herbs don’t add any nutritional value, so they’re unnecessary, correct? Technically, yes. But we add them because it just really makes the chicken taste awesome, right? Herbs de Provence gives us joy. The nice extras on top of the absolute rock-bottom necessities are added to life because they give us joy.

So, is artwork a good investment? Yes. Absolutely every time. Joy is beyond value. Can’t afford a $100,000 painting by some famous artist? Neither can I. (That’s why I paint my own paintings!) What I’m talking about is not necessarily a huge financial investment in art (unless you have deep pockets and that artwork you would like to purchase gives you joy. If that’s you, please email me at stclaireart@gmail.com or visit my studio at 344 Depot Street, Asheville NC. For the rest of us, what I’m talking about is even small, wise investments into a local artist because he or she is creating things that add joy to this world. When you purchase a painting or glass vase or a ceramic pitcher or piece of hand crafted furniture, you not only invest into something that adds joy to your own life, but you’re investing in another human being, enabling them to continue to create, which gives them joy. Joy goes all around!

So now and then, reach for that nice bottle of wine, sprinkle those herbs on your meat (or veggies) turn on some beautiful music, watch a sunset and sing. Why? Because it’s a necessity? Well actually, yes I think it is.

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. :)

"The Four Seasons on the French Broad River"

“The Four Seasons”

Growing up in Southern California, I never really experienced “seasons” per se. There was “foggy season” (May-June), “Fire Season” (September-October) and the rest was just hot. Living now in Asheville, North Carolina, I’m so loving the rhythm actual seasons bring to the year. Winter doesn’t last ALL that long, and it usually brings with it a few beautiful snow days. Spring is amazing. Absolutely awesome. Dogwoods are blooming and daffodils and tulips are going crazy. Summer is hot yes, but perfect for tubing down the French Broad River, hiking and camping up in the higher elevations. And then there is autumn. Oh my gosh. Autumn was always just a “theoretical” season growing up. Autumn in the Blue Ridge mountains of Western North Carolina is amazing. Autumn brings more visitors to my art studio in Asheville’s River Arts District than any other season of the year.

“…the power of beauty inspires the power of healing…”

The beauty of seasonal change is a big part of what I love about living in Asheville and working in my art studio. So I was really excited to have been asked by Mission Hospital to create a “Four Seasons” series for their Asheville campus. Each panel is 42” x 16” and each are covered with multiple layers of solar-resistant resin (so the surface is glassy-smooth).

This series was inspired by the many floats down the French Broad River that Joy and I make every summer, and it was great fun depicting each season, trying to think of the particulars about each one (blooming dogwoods in the spring panel and pink rhododendrons in the summer panel). My hope is that this series gives the doctors, nurses and patients at Mission the opportunity to “get lost” in each scene, and that the power of beauty inspires the power of healing. I think that’s possible!

Joy Unspeakable

“Joy Unspeakable” (36” x 24”)

Every now and then, when the mood is right, Joy and I take a break from painting at our art studio and head up to the Blue Ridge Parkway (usually heading south from Asheville) and just explore, pulling the car over to gawk at the view when the view demands it. And when conditions are “just right”, we’ll pull out our dinner, a bottle of wine, and Pims (you have to have Pims) and enjoy the exquisite company of God, nature, wind, clouds and sun.

“Joy Unspeakable” was inspired by multiple excursions like this and it depicts my very favorite time of day, that time between day and night when the earth seems to let out an almost audible sigh of contentment. This is sacred. This is a moment to savor because it lasts just a minute or two and then it’s gone, as night steals the magic away. But for those magical moments, it’s like you’re back in Eden and all is as it should be. Now is the time for stillness, and contemplation (AND PAINTING).

The Road and the End

BY CARL SANDBURG

I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.

I shall foot it
In the silence of the morning,
See the night slur into dawn,
Hear the slow great winds arise
Where tall trees flank the way
And shoulder toward the sky.

The broken boulders by the road
Shall not commemorate my ruin.
Regret shall be the gravel under foot.
I shall watch for
Slim birds swift of wing
That go where wind and ranks of thunder
Drive the wild processionals of rain.

The dust of the travelled road
Shall touch my hands and face.