What does Diversity have to do with honest artwork?

The photo above is my view as I paint. Not bad, right? So this morning, I took a moments break between art projects I was working on and stared out at these trees. And it occurred to me that there are uncountable varieties of foliage just right here in this one scene. They are all broadly the same thing (they are all plants). Most in this photo are more specifically similar in that they are trees (but several varieties). The trees do not make the shorter shrubs look ugly, and the shrubs seem quite comfortable growing alongside the trees without feeling insecure because they’re not as large. Pardon me please, I know I’m anthropomorphizing here, but it really hit me this morning: Diversity when living closely together is really beautiful. That’s at the heart of what makes nature so beautiful as opposed to a man-made garden. Beautiful, natural reality is incredibly diverse, and if what horticulturalists tell us is true, a diverse natural environment will be a healthier environment. If that is the key to real beauty as I suspect, it makes me wonder why we (why I) personally gravitate to people who are just like me. I find my tribe (of my own ethnicity, religion and culture) and then I “otherize” everyone else. Doing that seems so natural to us as human beings. But if there’s a lesson to be learned from nature; if the way nature “does it” applies to us humans too, then I suspect the more we maintain our differences but live our lives immeshed with people who do not look or talk or think like us, the closer results will look like real, natural beauty. But the more we huddle with people that are just like us, the closer we get to what is mundane, boring and even ugly.

“To the extent I mimic in my artwork what I see in front of me here as I paint, to that extent my artwork will be beautiful.”

Imagine a summer hillside panorama — mountains covered with trees. Got it? Okay, now imagine someone hands you a jumbo box of crayons to do a sketch, what color would you grab to depict the trees? Green? Really? Look again. To the left, those trees are in shadow and are almost black. Behind them, the sun is shining bright on something that looks almost yellow. Beside that is a bright green maple tree. As you look farther off in the distance, the more blue green the trees look and in the far off distance, the mountains look light blue gray (although they’re covered with the same green trees that are right in front of you). And everywhere, there are thousands and thousands of wildflowers and uncountable shrubs of various kinds. This is wilderness. And this is what actual, honest real beauty looks like: Awesome diversity of life, living closely together, maintaining their own individuality, all a part of the whole of exquisite beauty.

To the extent I mimic in my artwork what I see in front of me here as I paint, to that extent my artwork will be beautiful. So I notice the intricate differences in shades of color as it moves from left to right across the canvas, and grab different colors of paint to minutely adjust those colors. (As a side note, I never even use the same color blue in a sky — the color of the sky even on a crystal clear day, varies from left to right and top to bottom of what you see. To make my scene look “realistic”, I have to use a variety of colors even to paint something as simple as a blue sky.)

I long to live in a world that is really beautiful. And looking out at nature, I really think God left some clues how to create a society that is really beautiful: Diversity of life, living closely together, maintaining their own individuality, all a part of the whole of exquisite beauty. That sounds so awesome. I can’t make anyone go along with me but if I myself can keep this lesson in front of me for a while and be shaped by it, I think I will be a better, happier (and beautiful??) person.

More Questions and Answers

A few weeks ago, I was talking to Facebook followers about my blog. I’ve been blogging now for several years and I sometimes get stuck: I have absolutely no idea what to write about. SO…I asked y’all what YOU wanted to know about me and my work. This post is the second installment of questions and answers. A very special thanks to my questioners. You make my blogging job so much easier!

Is there any piece of your art that you would or could not sell.?

Well, not really. I have done a couple of pieces that I really wanted to keep because the subject matter was really meaningful to me and I was exceptionally pleased with the way the piece turned out. I still hung them on the studio wall but just marked the price up. They…still sold. So next time, I’m either just keeping it or marking it WAY the heck up.

Self taught or schoolED?

Both. When I was a kid, my parents enrolled me in an oil painting class. I loved that. When I went to college, I attended Art Center College of Design, in Pasadena, CA and learned a WHOLE lot about art in general: art history, composition, color theory…stuff like that. I learned everything except how to SELL art. That remained a mystery for many decades.

The technique I use now is one I made up by myself, which makes it so much fun. And it’s a technique that’s constantly evolving as I experiment more every day. I tell studio visitors that I’m kind of like half artist — half mad scientist. I love experimenting with something just to see what happens. That’s how I made up this technique (playing). That said, I don’t think I could have experimented like I did without the tools I got from school. That background was REALLY helpful. There are rules in art. I keep and break them all the time. But you have to know them and understand how to use them and how and when to break them.

How did your style evolve?

When I began this technique (painting on texture and metallic leaf), my paintings were all abstract. At the same time as this technique was beginning, I was also painting more traditional landscapes. Over many years, I learned how to merge the two into a full blown landscape that is textured, painted on metallic leaf. This is all I do now.

How did you learn to use the products and tools you use?

I’ve used nothing but oil paint since I was a kid, because I do NOT like the results when I use acrylics or water colors. Nothing against acrylics or watercolors. I just stink at using them, so I stick with what I know. At some point, you have to commit, right? The other things I use are modeling compounds and gesso (depending on what it is I’m “sculpting” on the canvas. Then I cover the whole textured surface with Italian aluminum leaf. At this point I begin applying my oil paint. Once all the paint is applied, I apply a layer of solar resistant resin or satin varnish (depending on the gloss vs satin factor that I’m going for for each piece). Other than that, I just use rather inexpensive paint brushes, palette knifves and…my hands. I often resort to using my hands when applying the initial texture surface at the beginning of the painting.

That’s all for now. Any other questions, please fire away!

Questions and Answers

A few weeks ago, I asked my Facebook followers if they had any questions regarding my work as an artist. Wow. Facebook peeps like questions like that. So…here are some questions from y’all and here are my answers:

Do you paint in any other styles besides landscape and an occasional abstract?

Well, no. I don’t paint figures anymore, and no animals. And I don’t paint still life. At this point in my career, I know what sells and I know what I enjoy painting most. Thankfully, it turns out I can make a living painting what I love best (landscapes and abstracts). I enjoy painting so much, but it’s so awesome to actually sell my work to someone that wants to make it a part of their home. What an amazing thing! So I’m always balancing what I love to paint with what I think will sell. Thankfully, they’re usually the same thing.

Do you have periods of artist block as writers often do?

Not really. Painting is so much fun. For me, it’s “life-giving”. That said, I am a huge proponent of taking time to sit and think, sit and feel, sit and pray, sit and do nothing. I am a “navel gazer”. I think that when creatives have a “block”, they need to take that really seriously and take some “down time”. I look at creative expression akin to “exhaling”. If you don’t inhale, you have nothing to exhale. And then you die. I’m not ready for that yet. So I encourage people to be thinking in terms of “soaking in” and “wringing it all out”. I make a living “wringing it all out.” But if I’m not “soaking it in”, I have nothing, and that doesn’t sound like much fun to me.

Is there a specific place you have yet to visit that beckons to you?

Well, funny you should ask.

Daily, I feel the desire to explore more of Italy. COVID has messed with my plans to return there but from the time I left Italy three years ago, I’ve fixated on finding a way to get back and really explore a lot more. I was so taken with the place that I began learning to speak Italian. It’s my hobby, and has become part of my daily routine. And after three years of learning, I’m about as fluent as a three year old! Woo Hoo!

I love Italy for two reasons: the landscape (cool ancient villages perched on hillsides) and the people. I’m an introvert and from what I experienced, I think you’d be hard-pressed finding an introvert in Italy. But rather than irritate me, I find myself fascinated. They’re are such a social people and I really love that. Americans can be so independent and disconnected from each other. It was a beautiful thing to see people interacted like I saw there.

Whenever I visit someplace new, I always come away with ideas for new artwork. I can’t help that. When an artist sees and feels something amazing, they have to express that amazement. We do that with our artwork, and then hopefully sell it!

So…I think I should be able to write the whole trip off on my taxes, right??

And the Next Blog Post is...

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

“…what would YOU like to know?”

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

Anyone want to start??

How 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?