How do you create when you don't feel like creating?

A few days ago, I had a high school teacher visit my studio with one of her more promising art students. She was wanting to speak to some artists in Asheville’s River Arts district and see if we had any advice for how a young artist could get started. Is that cool or what? Kudos to you teachers out there! You are so, so important in the development of the next generation. Thank you!

One of the questions this teacher asked me was how I created paintings on days when I just didn’t feel at all like creating. I think this was referring to the painter’s equivalent of “writer’s block”, when you sit down to create and find nothing at all is there in your creative reserve to work with.

That question honestly surprised me. I really hadn’t thought about that before but felt like it was a great question. I took a long pause and did some quick “soul-searching” and realized I had absolutely no idea how to answer that question. I am old enough now to know that I can only speak for myself and I can’t speak for any other artists out there. I am just one guy and I may well be an outlier. But I’m okay with that, so I took a deep breath and explained that I don’t think I have never known a day when I didn’t want to create. I’ve never had “painter’s block”. To me, it’s not a matter of working myself up to creating something. For me, creative exercise is not something I work at doing at all. I feel like creativity is something that I have to let out, that’s all. Everyone is different and we all look at this in different ways, so I don’t see myself as a “standard” in any way, shape or form. I may well be really weird. True confessions.

I may well be really weird. True confessions.

I have always experienced creativity as like a spring of water coming out of the ground. Imagine a spring-fed pool, bubbling with water. What do you do to make that water come out? Nothing. It just does. Your task is to just not dam it up and to enjoy the water, right?Honestly, my spring has never, ever has dried up. I can’t conceive of that happening. I think when it does, I will be laid in the ground. This is not to say that I don’t get tired. I do, but I take breaks. I take “fun breaks” i.e. I play a lot. This is why I go hiking. This is why I love traveling. This is why I’m building a deck at my home with a slide on it (for me, not my grandchildren, although I’d let them play on it too). Playing is key because I think playing and exploring may have a big part of tapping into the eternal Source of creativity itself, akin to meditating and prayer. Especially when you earn your living in a creative field, I think you need to be really aware of what keeps that spring in healthy flowing order. For me, I play and pray. Doing that keeps my mind and heart inquisitive and humble, and I suspect that is important.

So if you’re reading this (especially if you’re creative), what do YOU do to keep that creative spring healthy? What do you do if you get tired of creating and have “writer’s block” or painter’s block or some other kind of creative block? I would seriously love to know.

"Mullaghmore": The Story Behind the Painting

“Mullaghmore” (34” x 54”)

A few years ago, Joy and I had the privilege of visiting some dear friends in Ireland. They had moved from the central part of the country to Donegal (on the northern coast). While there, we visited historic villages and castles, forgotten and remote coves, did some amazing hiking on Europes tallest sea cliffs and rented bikes (discovering that riding a bike in the rain can be fun!). This was all in addition to spending some very pleasant hours chatting with our friends.

“I discovered I was just another ignorant American…”

One of the things they wanted to show us were the waves. Not being a surfer, I had no idea Ireland had much in the way of waves. I grew up learning to swim at Malibu and Zuma beaches in southern California, so I thought I had a pretty good standard for measuring what “surf-worthy” waves were. Oh my. I discovered I was just another ignorant American.

The beach we were taken to was called Mullaghmore and aside from the really beautiful setting on the rocky northwest coast of one of my favorite countries in the world, this place had waves. Like MONSTER waves. Like 60’+ waves. I couldn’t believe how powerful the sea was when it decided to seemingly let out all it’s wrath on the rocky coast of Mullaghmore. I also couldn’t believe anyone would want to get out INTO that water (it is really, really cold). The emotions in my head upon seeing the sea that day there included awe and (honestly) fear. These were truly monster waves. So powerful and majestic and raw.

So when Joy and I spent a few days on the coast here in North Carolina a couple weeks ago, I thought of Ireland. Even though the waves at the outer banks were minuscule compared to Mullaghmore, just seeing the power of the sea again made me want to create a painting that encapsulated that power. Asheville isn’t known for it’s waves, being eight hours from the coast, but as I’ve expressed before, sometimes what makes something a good idea worth doing is determined simply by the desire to do it and the fun it creates inside the heart of the creator. This wave, entitled “Mullaghmore” was worth it for me.

A Look Back to "The Dark Year"

Maybe it’s just because this is therapeutic, but I think I need to give a “Year in Review” as far as the strangest and scariest year I can remember: 2020. When it started, I was oblivious to what was to come. We were celebrating the New Year with our kids in Texas, and I was working on a dozen commissioned paintings. 2019 was my best year to date (sales-wise) and I was looking forward to what 2020 would hold for us.

Wow.

In late February, I left Joy in Texas to help take care of our newest grandchild, and I ran back to Asheville to finish up and deliver several of the painting commissions I was working on. But over the couple weeks I was back at my studio in Asheville, as February was giving way to March, the Coronavirus was ramping up and the governor ordered all businesses closed. I still had to work in the studio and was walking in each day, but it was kind of terrifying. The streets were empty and silent. It was like a scene out of “The Walking Dead”. When I got to my studio, I opened the door and wept. I thought this might be the end of my career.

After a couple weeks by myself in an empty, quiet city, I drove back to Texas with a new supply of panels for the next round of commissions. Texas (like everywhere in the world) was still scary, but at least I was not alone there. Our home there is right next door to my daughter and her family and two houses away from my son and his family, so I was painting and playing with grandchildren for the next few months as we waited.

In the mean time, rather than seeing my business shrivel, I was amazed: it was growing. People were ordering commissions from me like they’ve never done before. In 2019 (my best year so far), commissions were about 50% of my total sales), but in 2020, they shot up to about 80%. This amazed me. I figured that when people are worried about the economy completely crashing, who is going to buy artwork? But a client corrected me: “No Steve,” she said. “Especially this year we need artwork. We need to add beauty to our lives especially now.” I’d never actually thought of it that way.

My studio in Asheville really was empty until summer, but then summer was pretty busy. Foot traffic in September seemed “almost normal”. By that point, everyone coming into my studio (from all over the country) seemed fine with the idea of wearing face masks and socially distancing.

By the time the year ended, my sales were right in line with where they’ve been the last several years. 2019 was still the best year so far, but 2020 was not the worst and for that, I’m profoundly grateful.

Because of 2020, I learned that I love to paint at home. I spent the year painting under a couple big maple and hickory trees in my front yard and I found that to be really refreshing. Honestly, I’ve had worse work environments! I’ve also enjoyed the time with my wife and my family. As far as 2021 goes, we’ll see. But the time working from home, without the studio crowds, has given me time to think outside the box and dream and ask myself where I want to be headed and what I want to be doing. I don’t usually have time to ask big questions like that, but in 2020, we all had a lot of down time to think, right?

I’m looking forward to vaccines and truly praying for a return to normalcy in the world; a return to coming close to people again, of shaking hands, of hugging. In the mean time, I will keep dreaming and planning and painting.

Studio Expansion...Hello Northeast!

Joy and I are really excited. We’re expanding! Asheville is awesome and we love being here. There is no better place to sell my artwork than the River Arts District. But Asheville has turned into more than just a home. It’s more like a “home base” now, and the implications of that are pretty huge for Joy and I. Let me explain. 

A couple of years ago, we opened a part time studio in our home in the northern suburbs of Dallas, Texas. That studio has been wonderful. It’s in very close proximity to three of our four kids and nine of our grandchildren. And…Texas has awesome barbecue so it really could be worse, you know? 

This year, we have decided to expand, and open a studio in Pittsburgh, PA, just seven minutes from our oldest daughter and two more grandchildren. We’ve found a row house in the South Side, and has a huge attic space that will be perfect to transform into a cool painting studio. The area of town is awesome. It’s got real character. It’s right across a bridge from downtown, with bike paths, lots of restaurants and hip coffee shops right there. It’ll be a really different experience for Joy and I being right there, creating artwork in the middle of a major city. 

We’ll be renovating the place and using it as an AirBnB when we’re not in town, so…if you’re looking for a super cool place to visit, let us know! We’ll fix you up!

”I guess this means I’ll have to start rooting for the Pirates now, right??”

Between these two remote locations, we’ve got easy access to not only the southeast (where our Asheville home base is) but also the southwest and now the northeast! I’ve got clients all over the country, and this puts me in great proximity to be exploring new local galleries in each general area (it’s much more difficult to find a good gallery if you’re searching from five hundred miles away on the computer). 

So despite the really trying times we’ve gone through the last year (along with everyone else), we have lots of things to be thankful for, and are still dreaming and planning. Because of that, we’re still excited about the future and look forward to creating art (not just selling art) in different parts of the country!

I guess this means I’ll have to start routing for the Pirates now, right??

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?

A personal answer to a personal question...

I had a studio visitor this morning that asked a question I’ve never been asked, and I thought it would be fun to write about it. What he asked was, “So if you do art as a full time job, what the heck do you do for a hobby?” 

This is the part of my job that I just really love. I love visitor interaction. That is what is best about working in the River Arts District here in Asheville. I regularly get people from all over the country that are interested in exactly the same thing I’m interested in (art) and we regularly have conversations. Especially this year, that just feels so emotionally healthy! 

Okay, so…YES. I have hobbies. They are (in random order):

1. Learning Italian. I love the way Italian language sounds. It’s like “sexy Spanish”. It’s just so beautiful and emotive to listen to. I have always wanted to learn Italian and so practically every day for the last three years, I start the day with on-line Italian lessons. Parlo italiano come un ragazzo di tre anni (i speak Italian like a three year old boy) but…that’s better than a two year old. One day I’ll be as fluent as a four year old! Benissimo!)

2. Discovering the ancient context for the Bible. I grew up with the standard American Protestant brand of religion and that’s fine, but I never was taught how people back 3000+ years ago in an eastern culture would have understood what is undoubtedly the most influential book in history. Maybe I’m a nerd. Okay, I’m a nerd but…I absolutely love grabbing my trowel and brush and discovering ancient artifacts in the dirt (of history). This has changed and wonderfully challenged my basic life assumptions.

3. Growing vegetables in my yard. I love the smell of dirt. Good dirt is amazing. I love learning about how to grow healthy dirt because healthy dirt begets healthy vegetables. There is an organic farm with a farm stand just a block away from where we live, so I just focus on what I can’t get the farm, like Magda squash and yellow wax beans and eggplant. I’ve learn out to cook eggplant so it’s not gross!!! (This an an accomplishment, my friends.)

4. I love hiking. Walking is great, but hiking is the best (this requires in incline). There are so many amazing destinations here in western North Carolina. Waterfalls, hidden meadows, mountaintops…I love them all. Discovering these places is truly like pressing the reset button in my soul.

5. Baroque and classical music. I love Bach. He is truly the hybrid between math and sound. He’s amazing. Regarding classical music, Mozart was a genius but I am a huge fan of Chopin. Chopin can bring tears to my eyes. And Beethoven and Brahm’s piano sonatas and symphonies — they take me to another place. It’s my dads fault. He was a piano teacher, and my parents regularly took me to the Hollywood Bowl growing up, so I was kind of destined to love all things classical.

Those are my main hobbies (well, and yes…BACON). Art is not my hobby. Art is who I am and what I do to make a living. Art is the air I breathe and all the rest comes from the heart of an artist. I’m okay with that. :)

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!)

Sometimes, just "having fun" is a good enough reason

“Into Mystery” (36” x 28”)

If you’ve read much of this blog (THANK YOU!), you’ve probably heard me talk about why I paint what I paint. If you are an artist and you want to do that as a full-time job, you have to sell your work. This is not rocket science, right? There definitely is a place in the world for art that shocks and disturbs, but that doesn’t sell easily to tourists visiting my studio in Asheville’s River Arts District, wanting to bring home something that reminded them of their visit to the mountains of North Carolina. So, MOST of the time, I paint either generic scenes (that could remind the viewer of ANYWHERE) or scenes that are reminiscent of this part of North Carolina.

So, if you were to visit my studio (and you’re welcome to do that!), you’d find landscape paintings that are set in various themes having to do with our area. That said, about 10% of what you’d see would not fit that criteria at all. I have some seascapes and some underwater ocean scenes. Why? Because they were fun to paint (I like the ocean too). And then this week, I just finished a piece called “Into Mystery”, which is based on photos of Arizona’s Antelope Canyon. The challenge of painting a location like Antelope Canyon is that I had to figure out some way creating the thousands of lines that have been carved into the sandstone by immeasurable years of wind and rain. My goal here was to create those sweeping lines with texture. This piece was carved, smoothed, covered with metallic leaf, colorized with oil paint and finished with a single layer of resin. Personally, I’m really happy with this one. It was a real challenge but I feel happy with the results.

This painting, if nothing else, highlights my skill

because it was really difficult.

So, how does this piece appeal to some random visitor to Asheville, looking for something to bring home as a souvenir of their time here? Well…it probably doesn’t, and that’s okay. This painting, if nothing else, highlights my skill because it was really difficult. And if putting my skill out there front and center is all this piece does, that’s fine. It’s done it’s job. And who knows…we do get Asheville visitors from out west! So hey, if you’re from Arizona, give me a call! I do free shipping!

The Best Painting Delivery Ever...

Hitting the “reset” button

A couple months ago, I was commissioned to paint a rather large painting. Because I normally pay for shipping charges for my clients (a tangible way to offer my thanks for their business), I knew this piece would be pretty expensive to send to it’s new home in Denver, CO. When I actually checked the FedEx website for pricing, I was pretty shocked at the several hundred dollars price tag for shipping, and so…I looked at Joy and asked if she was up for a road trip.

I don’t know about everyone else, but this year especially, with all the stress of a business that was closed down for three months, trying to stay clear of Covid-19, and constantly dealing with the chaos of the upcoming election…e really needed a rest. Creativity demands to be fed with peace and adventure. You cannot expend what you don’t have inside your heart and mind. Well, that was my way of justifying taking a road trip to Colorado (and adding a few extra days onto said road trip, as long as we were already there!). So we packed up the painting securely and strapped it to the top of our car, then headed three days west.

After helping my clients install the piece, Joy and I headed north a couple hours to Laramie, Wyoming, and we spent nearly a week exploring the mountains, canyons and lakes in the area. Our daily routine was to hike a few hours and then scout out a cool place to plant our camping chairs, have a picnic and spend several hours just sitting and reading. Enjoying the absolute quiet. Listening to the autumn breeze as it rattled the leaves of the golden aspen trees all around us.

It was amazing.

We talked about it afterwards and we both could actually feel ourselves soaking it it. My gosh. I felt like a dry sponge immersed in sweet, clear water.

So whether or not the need for peace and adventure was actually a “need” or a “want”, I don’t really care. I’m content to let someone else figure that one out. It felt amazing. And by the time we were headed back home to North Carolina, I could hardly wait to start painting again. I’ve never felt that way about any other job I’ve ever head, so I think the time in Colorado and Wyoming was definitely worth it.

How a Dinky Little Virus Changed my Art Business

Each day I go to my studio now, inevitably someone will profusely thank me for being open, and then asks how I’m doing as an artist in this crazy pandemic.

Well, things have changed. Last year was an amazing year as far as art sales go. Incredible. And then…we hit March of this year and everything completely changed. Those last few days before we HAD to lock up the studio in Asheville was just spooky. Though mid-March usually brings tourists back into town, no one at all was on the streets. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead. But if you’re reading this, you already know that because it was the same all over the country. Mid-March began a period of time that was really scary for so many reasons. Questions like “will I get this disease?”, and “will I make it financially through this thing?” were on everyone’s mind (including this artist).

COMMISSIONS

During those first weeks, I was really thankful I still had painting commissions I was working on from the end of 2019. But then in early April, a few more commissions came in. I was amazed. “Now??” I asked myself. “Who would buy art NOW?” But one client at that time explained “the world is so scary and horrible right now. I need something that will give me joy and peace and that’s why I have to commission a piece of artwork from you.” I was honored and really thankful for that kind of response to this situation. Even now, there has not (so far) been a day of 2020 when I was not working on a commission. In fact, I’m just finishing up the largest commission I’ve ever received. I honestly don’t understand this at all, but I’m not complaining.

NEWSLETTERS

Because of what that client said, I realized I maybe had something I could do to help people during the lockdown (at least a little). I began to send out a newsletter weekly to all my client list (nearly 2000 people). I usually send it out to show new work and talk about upcoming events at the studio (if you’re interested in being on the mailing list, just email me at stclaireart@gmail.com). But this time, I sent out a single photo once a week of one of my paintings and the story behind that painting. And immediately, I got really positive responses. I just wanted to give people at least a few minute escape from reality, and right then, that seemed like something real I could be giving.

MINI MASTERPIECES

During that time, I also began working on tiny (8” x 10”) versions of some of my favorite pieces I’ve done over the last several years and then offering them for sales on Facebook and Instagram. The sales of my “mini’s” really helped support us well through spring, and I have a whole bunch ready for holiday sales. Again, these sales surprised me. I have NEVER sold directly on-line. Because my paintings are reflective and have depth to them (and you can’t capture that in a photo), I have never bothered trying to sell my work on-line. But these were an exception and I am really grateful for the Artist Support Pledge that started this whole idea of artists offering tiny paintings in 2020. That really helped a lot of artists make it through the scariest time of the lock downs.

STUDIO SPACE

One unexpected thing about the studio having to be closed down for a couple months was that I found I really liked working from home. I have a yard surrounded by huge maple, oak and hickory trees. To be able to just wear grubby clothes and set up my work station right there in my front yard, crank up my music or podcast and create my artwork there was uh…really nice. So Joy and I decided to move most of our behind the scenes production work home, which cleared out the back part of my studio. We cleaned and painted the walls and floor, opened up the back doorway to about 12’ and I found another artist to join me in the space. His name is Onicas Gaddis and he has been a joy to have around. He is also a painter but works in acrylic and does large expressionistic-style pieces. Really cool stuff (you should check his website out at onicasart.com). Having another artist there not only helps us out on rent, it means we can be open seven days a week, but Joy and I still get our two days / week off. Thank you Onicas! So when you next visit, you may well be greeted by a smiling face (smiling behind the mask) of my new studio mate. Make sure you say hi!

TO SUM IT UP

I am really lucky, blessed, fortunate (however you want to look at it). And I cannot help but be hopeful about the future and thankful I’m making it through this period of time (so far, so good anyway). So my business model has changed, and this years sales sure aren’t what they were last year, but thank God (and I do multiple times every day) and thanks to all my amazing clients, I’m making it and actually enjoying parts of this whole experience. Don’t get me wrong…I’m longing for 2021 and I’m longing to be able to travel again! I’m longing to ditch my mask and start hugging people again. But right now, in this weird and sometimes scary lull, I feel quiet inside. I am so thankful.

That’s enough. I have a commission I need to get back to now…