In Celebration of Art

As I was drinking my coffee early this morning, I was thinking about my day and what I had planned for it. I’m an artist; a painter specifically, and I work with oil paint. So thinking about my day meant figuring out which piece to work on first, and kind of plan in my head what I want to do with it. I went through each of the paintings I’m presently working on, poured another cup of coffee and thought, “you know, this whole “art thing” is really amazing. As a painter, I’m participating in a primal and ancient rite. Primal, because you give a one year old child a paper and crayons, and they know exactly what to do with them. Ancient because we’ve been creating since we identifiably became “modern” humans. As a species, we can’t seem to help ourselves. We have to creatively express what’s inside our heads. To me, that’s fascinating. And I call it a “rite” because that word evokes something mysterious and holy. A “rite” is the gate into the spiritual. And I absolutely believe art is spiritual. Art touches a part of us that is not just cognitive or physical. Art awakens a part of us that is the realm of the spirit and the heart. And that’s really incredible. How does art do that?

As a painter, I’m participating in a primal and ancient rite.

Art doesn’t so much make us think this or that as it evokes “feeling” in us. When you walk in through the doors of the Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence, Italy and walk down the long hallway toward Michelangelo’s David, you are captivated. You can’t help but feel it. David is extraordinary and he commands respect. Anyone who as been there and seen that incredible sculpture knows exactly what I’m talking about. When I visited Giverny, France and walked through Claude Monet’s home and garden, I felt it there too. The garden isn’t just plants, it’s artistically created, and it’s truly beautiful. It evokes calm and peace. Why does something I see evoke emotion? I don’t know how that works but I know it does and to me, that’s utterly fascinating.

I remember as a kid being taken to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion to listen to Zubin Mehta conduct the L.A. Philharmonic orchestra. They were performing Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony and I remember crying. How does music do that?

We are incurably artistic beings, known for our intellect but really marked by our emotion and spirit. As I see it art is an ancient gateway, and whether you’re a year old kiddo with a red crayon, a poet, a gardener, a painter, a gourmet chef or a musician, you’re sort of entering another world when you create. You’re entering Eden (that paradise, that “better” place) and as you depict what you see or feel there, you bring Eden into this broken world. What a wonderful thing that is.

So close your computer and go grab a red crayon, a pen, a spade, a paint brush, a KitchenAid or guitar and let’s create something. Let’s bring Eden down, and walk there again in the cool of the day! Or you can fixate on coronavirus or the upcoming election. I’ll choose the paint brush. Care to join me?

"The Bridge"

Each year, I really enjoy challenging myself with an idea that is “over the top”. This year, I’ve decided to work with one of my favorite photos I took of one of my favorite places: Claude Monet’s lily pond in Giverny, France. When we were in France last September, we originally planned to see the Louvre, because if you’re an artist and you’re in Paris, you HAVE to visit the Louvre. But…the Louvre is closed on Mondays and that was the only day we had left in our trip. When I discovered this, I quickly Googled “Giverny” and found that the home and garden of my very favorite artist ever (sorry Leonardo et al) was OPEN on Mondays, I was very happy to add Giverny to our trip itinerary.

It was magical. If you love art, you would love Giverny. It was absolutely so amazing. But it was crawling with tourists. LOTS OF THEM. Every inch of the trail around the gardens and pond were packed. That’s okay. I was ONE OF THEM! I wanted to see with my own eyes the magical gardens that figured so prominently into so much of Monet’s artwork.

And then…a magical moment.

No one was on the bridge!

Just an 1/8 of a second later, and this photo would not exist. I feel like this was basically divine intervention. This moment was predestined. This was an awesome and wondrous moment! The challenge was to capture it with my iPhone! But being that it was a Mac product, that wasn’t a problem at all.

So this photo is what I’m painting. And I’m not done yet, but I’m getting very close. This piece will be a “one of a kind” painting, fully of wonderful memories for me. My goal is that it will be my personal “best of the best” to date. It’s coming home (from my current Texas studio) to Asheville, and will be in the most prominent position in my River Arts District studio. So…if you’r e visiting Asheville and are interested in seeing it, please know you’re welcome to visit!

The Most Interesting Question of the Year (but it's only February so...)

Spending most days painting in my Asheville studio, I am used to lots of questions, but honestly, most of the questions are pretty much the same. They mostly involve my technique and how I do it. Just a hint: I don’t tell how, I just tell what and why. :)

This last week though, amongst the other visitors to Asheville’s River Arts District, I had a gentleman give my artwork the “once over”, then pulled up beside me and quietly asked, “Do you always just paint what’s pretty, or do you ever get serious with your art?” Hmmm. I honestly didn’t know how to answer that, and told him so, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the question and would like, in this forum, to respond.

I have done only three paintings that were touching on serious topics. One painting (the darkest piece I’ve ever done) dealt with my feelings after visiting the concentration camp at Dachau, Germany. One dealt with climate change, and one (currently hanging in my studio) deals with racial injustice. I’m not opposed to using art as a platform to communicate something really heavy or political or spiritual. Artists have a very long track record for using the language of art to communicate on very serious levels. Look at Goya and the sketches he did during the wars he experienced. Look at the piece he did of Saturn devouring his son. That was a completely political piece of art. Look at the work of Salvador Dali. Most of it was dealing with his outrage at the corruption in the Catholic Church.

…my angst is not my subject matter with my artwork.

The thing is, my angst at the political situation in our country, racial justice, how we as Americans treat immigrants or refugees is not usually what I depict with my artwork. I do think about these things a lot and am very willing to express my opinions verbally, but usually, my angst is not my subject matter with my artwork.

Why do I paint “pretty things?” Probably because even as a kid, I’d see a photo of a beautiful place and wonder what was over that hill or around that curve in the road, and I’d imagine. I was drawn in. That’s why I paint, and that’s what I paint today. Look, this world is sometimes a dark, confusing and frustrating place. Do we really need “serious” art all the time? I for one am very happy to add beauty to this planet as my contribution. That is my “calling” if you will, and my artwork is just a small part of that. This calling is what makes me get up in the morning. It’s what I’m about.

Beauty and peace and curiosity and awe…I think the world needs more of that and so, I’ll save my political opinions for the pub. Catch me there and I’m fine unloading. But when I paint, I have something I believe is more important (and more needed) than my political views or my angst with society and I feel pretty good about that, thank you very much.

"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!

From Point A to Point Z

I remember years ago, as I was teaching a group of aspiring artists, the main problem I had with students was not their level of artistic skill or creativity. The main problem can be illustrated by the exasperated comment I heard over and over again: “My painting doesn’t look as good as yours!”. This statement usually was followed by them just giving up entirely. I felt like half the time, I was teaching art technique and the rest of the time, I was playing psychotherapist, and I’m not a very good psychotherapist.

"My painting doesn’t look as good as yours!”.

Really?

NEWS FLASH…if your painting looked as good as mine, you would not be taking an art class from me now, would you? (See, I really stink as a psychotherapist.) You might think their problem is self confidence, but it’s not. Their problem, over and over again, is a complete misunderstanding of how long it takes to perfect a skill. How long does it take to be able to sit down at the piano and play your favorite Katy Perry song? How long would it take you to reach the point where you would be able to run a marathon? How longs does it take to learn enough math skills to be an accountant? How many years of medical training does it take to be a brain surgeon?

Honestly, the common conception that “well, ANYONE could be an artist” is not only ignorant, it’s insulting. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone can pick up a paint brush (and would be psychologically healthier if they did) and create something, but to create something really well takes time and practice and lots of patience and stubborn persistence. It takes time to get from point A to point Z.

Honestly, the common conception that “well, ANYONE could be an artist” is not only ignorant, it’s insulting.

The common push-back I get to the above paragraph is that a lot of people look at a lot of the artwork out there and conclude “Heck, my four year old could do that!” so they assume art takes no skill at all, just good marketing. Looking around at a lot of artwork, I totally understand why people would feel that way. But, can I respectfully respond to this notion with a question? If I called myself a neurosurgeon, would that make me a neurosurgeon? If I called myself a concert pianist, would that make me a pianist? If I called myself an auto mechanic, would that mean you’d turn me loose on your Lexus?

Skill. Look for the skill. Art is visual, so the skill is there to be seen, or it’s not art. It may be color, it may be expressive, it may even be interesting to look at, but if there is no skill, there is no art.

Skill takes time and patience and persistence to develop and the willingness of aspiring artists to expend that kind of energy is what will make them a master of their craft. And honestly, when someone (no matter their present artistic skill level) who has the fire inside their heart that drives them to keep creating and developing their craft, it’s nearly impossible for them to fail.

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!

My Beautiful Baby on Display

Picture sitting there in the crowd of other parents. The band has just played Pomp and Circumstance and the graduates have just marched across the stage. Finally, the school president calls your daughter’s name. Ahh, the lump in the throat. There’s your baby, all grown up. Just look at her. Wow. You feel so proud.

Okay, well that’s how I felt when I received this photo (above) from Naples Lifestyle Magazine. My artwork is being featured in the magazine (because my client’s home is being featured in the magazine) in February, 2020 and the writer had some questions for me:

Would you please tell me about how you approached this beautiful work? 

My client’s interior designer gave them color swatches to forward to me. The swatches of paint and fabric gave me a good idea of what colors to use in the painting as the main colors as well as accent colors. I also had a good idea of what type of abstract art the Judy's preferred, so that dictated the general style. Then the painting was begun. First, I build up a textured background with modeling compound and gesso, then I cover the entire piece with reflective metallic leaf (aluminum leaf in this case). The colorizing is all done with layer on layer of oil paint, then the finish is applied. They requested a high gloss finish, so I used a solar-resistant resin (Florida-safe), applied in five layers to cover all the texture to the point it left the final surface glassy smooth. 

Do you do much work for homes where the color scheme or theme is provided?  How does that work? 

As far as color scheme, I do a lot of work with interior designers and home owners who provide photos of the space and / or color swatches they're using as the basis for the color scheme. As are as the theme goes, if they want a landscape painting, they can look at my website and give me an idea of what they prefer, or they often provide a photo (one they've taken from their favorite vacation or one they find) and I'll use that as the inspiration for the painting. For an abstract painting, they can provide color ideas and then photos of different abstract paintings they like. That lets me know the abstract styles they're attracted to, so I'll use those ideas as inspiration for my own piece. 

This painting was really special to me because it represents ten amazing days at my clients awesome log mansion in Breckenridge, Colorado. We exchanged ten days for me and all my family at the cabin for this painting. So we spent time in God’s country, hiking, biking, fishing, hot tubing and lots and lots of laughing. I love bartering. It makes everyone happy!

Regarding the Selection of an Artistic Theme

I was recently asked by a visitor to my Asheville Art Studio how I decided what to paint. He explained that he was an aspiring artist and had trouble deciding on the “theme” or “subject mater” for their work, and I thought that discussion was worth recounting here in this format because I think they were asking a good question. Deciding on the subject matter for a piece can literally take months.

“…Why landscapes? Because that’s what moves me…”

In selecting a theme for subject matter or artwork, I asked him why he was painting in the first place. In other words, “are you painting for the joy of painting or are you painting to ‘say’ something with your artwork? I.e. are you painting still life pieces because you love flowers, or are you painting something that addresses the problem of race relations or climate change? I explained that one motivation and goal is not better than the other; that it’s completely valid to paint from either or both.

Most of the pieces I paint are landscapes. Why landscapes? Because that’s what moves me. I love nature, and I love depicting the majesty or stillness or joy that nature inspires in me. So, most of my work doesn’t say anything profound in that it makes no political or moral statement. I say “most” of my artwork because there has been the occasional piece I’ve done that tackles some relevant issue head on. But for the most part, it’s safe to say I’m just trying to depict beauty, not “say something” with my artwork. But that’s just me. I have been deeply moved by other artists work (like Goya) that have something truly profound to say regarding an issue of the day. I remember his painting “Saturn Devouring his Son”. It’s an awesome and well executed piece. And it shocks and sickens me. I assure you, that’s precisely what Goya intended. In the painting, you have the god Saturn devouring the body of his son. Why depict that? Because everyone knows a father should love and protect his son, just like the government (of Spain in Goya’s case) should love and protect the citizens. But just as Saturn is despoiling his own son, the Spanish government was despoiling it’s own citizenry. That painting and so many others like that are very dark and very serious. They have a lot to say. I sometimes wish I was more like Goya, but…I am not (for the most part). But I’m happy with that.

"What's Your Best Price on This Piece?"

Most of the time, when people visit Asheville and come into my studio to browse the artwork, they either like it or they don’t. If they don’t like it, they leave. If they like it and if the price fits their budget, they make a purchase. Of that group of interested people though, are people who like to play the “what’s your best price?” game. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE that game. I love talking someone down in price. It’s part of the fun of going to a garage sale. But…other than buying a house or a car, people don’t EVER try to bargain their way to a lower price with what they buy. I mean, imagine you’re at Walmart or Kohl’s or Home Depot and EverGreen Garden Center and you go up to the cashier, they inform you your total is $60.54. Is your response, “Okay, would you take $40?”

“The way I was taught to price my artwork makes the most sense…”

But there are people who buy artwork that way. I even had a gentleman visiting my Asheville art studio a couple years ago and he was looking at a painting and hollered across the room “well, you don’t seem to want to sell THIS one very much!” That was his way of asking if I’d come down in the price.

The way I was taught to price my artwork makes the most sense, and I wish everyone understood that I never price anything on a whim….”Oh, this one is awesome…I’ll price that high. This one…this is just okay, so I’ll price that lower.” If something is just “okay” I don’t put it on my wall. I remove the canvas from the frame and start all over. What ends up on my wall represents the best I can produce. I think everyone visiting my studio in the River Arts District deserves that. The only thing that determines my price is the rate of my sales. This year, I’m charging $3/square inch for my work. When I started selling my art, I was at $2.50/square inch. That was fine for a while, but when my artwork was selling faster than I could replace it on the wall, I bumped the price to $2.65. Then a year later, I had to bump it again, and then again. My goal is to paint as fast as I sell them.

All that said, if someone purchases something really large, or wants multiple pieces, of course I’ll give them a break on the pricing. THAT is the only point things get subjective as far as pricing goes. But I want to say “thank you” for someone willing to invest that much in me and my craft, and the most logical way to do that is by giving that type of a client a price break.

Aside from that though, I never, ever set prices based on what I “think” it’s worth. Based on my sales, I know what it will sell for and that’s the price I write on the tag. This is really important for my clients as well. They need to know that the value of the art they purchase is based on something more than what I “felt” like pricing it at. And so far, almost every year since I’ve started painting, the value (as set by purchases) is raising.

So setting prices is really a very simple and straightforward thing. If paintings sell too slow, you lower prices. If artwork sells too fast, you raise the price just a bit to slow sales down to a comfortable level. That’s how I was trained anyway, and it makes the most sense to me. If you have any questions or comments though, I’m really open to hearing.

A Really Unique Commission Project

“Triple Falls Triptych” (30” x 60” — each panel)

I love artwork commissions. I’ve found that as an artist, a commissioned painting oftentimes gives me the opportunity to paint something really unique. I’ve painting the canals of Venice, the Alps, Queenstown Harbour in New Zealand, Jasper National Park in Alberta, British Columbia, and even an Antarctic scene!

Several weeks ago now, a nice local couple came to visit me in my Asheville arts studio and liked what they saw. After several minutes of discussion about commissioning possibilities, they went home to look through their photos. In the mean time, I looked through some of mine.

So, I played God just a bit…

The idea they came up with was partially determined by the eventual location where the artwork would be installed: a stairwell. So here was the assignment: “We’d like a triptych, and we’d like the panels to be offset from each other, each one mounted a bit lower than the previous as they move down the steps. Basically, we’d like a local scene that can, in a sense, move down the wall with the stairs.”

Applying the finishing touches to the panels

SO… if they wanted a scene that “moved down” a stairwell, then one idea immediately came to mind: Triple Falls. Triple Falls is one of the most accessible, iconic and truly majestic waterfalls in western North Carolina, only an hour away from Asheville. But, as I looked at all the photos of the falls, I saw I problem. The waterfall moved from right to left as it cascaded down the mountain. But their stairwell goes down from left to right. So, I played God just a bit and flipped the photo. Viola! Perfection!