"Are All Artists Introverts?"

How many extroverts does it take to change a light bulb? Twenty. One to change the bulb and the others and cheers him on and enjoy that moment of comradery.

How many introverts does it take to change a light bulb. None. He’d rather light a candle instead because of the beautiful ambience that candlelight creates.

Wow, okay this morning I was talking to a studio visitor and she was really trying to understand the artist mind. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE! After trying to figure me out, she said that she assumed that all artists were introverts and that it was so odd I was obviously an extrovert.

But…

I am no extrovert. I know how to act like an extrovert. I even enjoy it. But it’s exhausting to me. I don’t think she believed me when I told her that though. ”You seem like a happy person though,” she said, “and obviously one that likes being around people”.

This brings up so many thoughts in my head, and I need to write them down to process them:

• First of all, I would imagine an artist could be EITHER personality type. I would also imagine that the art an extrovert would come up with might look and feel different from that produced by an introverted mind, but maybe not. But yes, I don’t know what being an extrovert or introvert has to do with being an artist of some sort.

• This woman was seriously doubting that I was in truth an introvert (because I seemed happy and obviously enjoyed people). Okay look, introverts are not always depressed. There. I said it. You know, extroverts can get depressed too. Introversion and misery are not synonymous. I personally know introverts who laugh. True statement. And we can be very happy (as long as we get some alone time to recharge). And both introverts and extroverts have to recharge to love people well and to enjoy life. We both do it, we just recharge differently.

• Introverts don’t hate being with people. We get bad press. Being an introvert does not mean you don’t love and enjoy people. My gosh, from what I read, even Jesus Christ went off by himself at times to be with his own mind and his God. I don’t think people associate Jesus with someone who did not love and enjoy people though, right? Extroverts may like huge parties (with 100 of their closest friends) and loud music and lots of commotion. I get that. I don’t understand that but I get it. See, introverts like SMALL get togethers or one-on-one social settings so that we can have a real, deep, powerful and honest conversation. I’m not saying that extroverts don’t experience that at their large, loud parties. I just don’t fathom how that’s possible. But then, I’ve never been an extrovert so I’m completely ignorant on that point.

I admit I’m totally baffled by extroverts in general. You are a complete and wonderful mystery to me! I need y’all in my life though. My wife and three of my four kids are extroverts. Introverts desperately need extroverts in their lives. You keep life very entertaining! And I would think extroverts need introverts in their lives too. Because of our differences, we can compliment each other, like a bit of salt and a bit of sugar in that cookie recipe you like. Salt and sugar are very different but they go together so well.

So bottom line, I do not believe all artists are automatically introverts. I may be wrong. Honestly, I have no idea. I do think that what makes you introvert and extrovert is not really what you do per se, it’s where you go to recharge emotionally and spiritually AFTER you do whatever you do. My wife and kids totally get recharged by being with people. I get recharged by sitting by myself and letting my mind rest. It’s not that an introvert longs to sit in the dark and embrace misery. It’s joy we are trying to embrace there. Personally, I really crave quiet sometimes. We both (extroverts and introverts) need that recharging time so we can be ready to get back to the craziness and joy of life, it’s just that we have different types of batteries we’re charging I think. What a complex and beautiful thing is a human mind!

I feel better now. Back to painting.

What Makes a Painting a Good Piece of Art?

What I do is typically done by myself. I’m an artist and I paint. But the WAY I do it involves regular contact with people who visit Asheville. That keeps me psychologically balanced I think! One of the great things about my business model is that I get to hear all sorts of questions from visitors. Some of them crack me up. Some of them test my patience. And some of them make me think.

One really good question I got a couple weeks ago was from a couple visiting from New Jersey. They love looking at artwork but I could tell they had no confidence in “judging” art, so I had a really great time explaining to them that like it or not, they DO judge art all the time and that that’s okay. That’s a topic for another day, but the question they asked was “Just because I like a painting, does that make it good art? What makes a piece of art “GOOD” art? Is it entirely subjective?”

It needs to adhere to the rules of the craft, or break them skillfully.

Oh, that’s such a great question. My answer took about thirty minutes to explain and I still only scratched the surface. What makes art “great” art IS subjective, but it’s also objective. That combination is what makes it tricky. What makes a painting a great painting is determined the same way as determining what makes a song a great piece of music; what makes a poem a great example of poetry, or what makes a rendition of Beef Wellington a perfect “Beef Wellington”. All art can be judged. I’m not encouraging people to be “judgmental”. I’m just saying that judging all these things is natural and we all do it and that that’s absolutely fine. But just because I personally like this chef or this poet or this musician or this artist does not make what they produce “great”, right? What is that standard something has to meet in order to considered great?

Well, in my opinion…

1) ATTENTION TO DETAIL. It needs to be well-crafted and that well-craftedness should be obvious. There needs to be that mystified “How’d they do that?” asked. Great skill level counts and will be obvious.

2) INNOVATIVE. It needs to display a new take. There is nothing new under the sun, that is true. But to be considered “great”, I think there needs to be something unique about it. Otherwise (even if it’s well done), if it’s just like the next song, poem, plate or painting, what’s the big deal about it? Why does it matter? There must be something that grabs attention. There needs to be some obvious imagination involved in its production.

3) RULES, RULES, RULES. It needs to adhere to the rules of the craft, or break them skillfully. Like it or not, there are rules to art. There are mathematical rules that determine pleasing proportions. There are spelling and punctuation rules used in writing. There are rules that dictate pleasing intervals of sound when one writes a piece of music. There are rules that dictate great or horrible results in cooking. Rules are everywhere. And they can be skillfully broken, but you really need to know those rules intimately, inside and out, before you know how and when to best break them.

The thing is, if there is artistic expression that adheres to these three points, people respond to it. You can’t help but respond to it. It creates pleasure.

At this point in my talk with my studio visitors, the gentleman said, “But when I go into an art museum, half the stuff there just looks like crap to me. I mean, my two year old could do a better job.” Yep. Sometimes I think that good artwork ends up on people’s walls. Artwork that can’t be sold (i.e. no one wants it in their home) ends up in an art museum. Perhaps that’s too cynical. Probably. But there’s an old Dutch saying that probably applies here:

“Just because a mouse lives in a cookie jar does not make it a cookie”.

I think I’ll leave it at that.

The Story Behind…"Gentle Showers on a Summer Afternoon"

Have you ever hiked in the rain? Well, we can now say that we have. Understand, this was not the original plan, but one thing about doing ANYTHING outside in the mountains of Western North Carolina in July is that those plans always need contingencies for an afternoon thunderstorm.

The morning was gorgeous. North Carolina is known for it’s blue sky, and the locals are really proud of it. “Carolina Blue” they call it. And in the mountains above most of the summer humidity, that blue sky is truly gorgeous. So that Saturday morning a couple summer ago, we packed our backpacks with sub sandwiches, lots of water and Pim’s. I’ve written about Pim’s before. Many thanks to the British for that wonderful, awesome “biscuit”. So good. It’s to the point now that it’s just not a proper hike without the Pim’s.

We headed northeast to a trail we’d not taken before (towards Roan Mountain on the Tennessee border) and began our walk. Wildflowers were EVERYWHERE and the air was perfect — warm but not oppressively hot and a wonderful breeze was coming from the west. By early afternoon, a few clouds began gathering over the high peaks and by the time we stopped for lunch, we were getting a few (just a few) rain drops. And then…

“…we looked back across the valley and I kind of gasped…

And then the thunder started, so we spent about an hour hiding under some overhanging rocks by the stream we were following, rating the thunder on a scale of 1-10. We ended up wet and kind of cold (but we still had our Pim’s so all was not lost). After the rain shower was over, we decided to head back to the car as fast as we could because we saw more rain coming in the distance. When we got back to the car though, we looked back across the valley and I kind of gasped. I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. And then…I painted it.

I think the moral of the story is that even when something uncomfortable or frightening is happening, I need to look around and see the beauty around me even then. Sometimes it’s exquisite. Sometimes it’s worth painting!

The Story Behind..."Blue Ridge Summer Afternoon"

“Blue Ridge Summer Afternoon” (26” x 40K”)

Not all the paintings I work on come from a personal story, but a fare number of them do. This piece, “Blue Ridge Summer Afternoon” definitely has a story. Back in 2020, as the pandemic was sweeping the country, Joy and I (like so many others) were doing all we could do to keep safe and to help lower our stress levels as much as we could. For us, this meant we needed to spend time exploring the outdoors on our local hiking trails. In North Carolina, our mountains are not giants. They’re not the Alps. They are not the bombastic, dramatic “teenage” mountains like the Sierra Nevada range in California or the the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. The Appalachians are ancient. Once high and mighty, they are now just a bare hint of what they once were when Africa was pushing up against the east coast of North America. But what the Blue Ridge lack in massive grandeur, they certainly make up for in the way of quiet, peaceful beauty. I have grown to love these gentle, worn down mountains.

“…we had a quiet day to ourselves, celebrating nature and the kindness of God.”

This one afternoon in the summer of 2020, we packed our backpacks with a couple books, plenty of water and our lunch, and headed south to the border of Smoky Mountains National Park. The weather was perfect for hiking…warm but not too hot, slightly cloudy (we got just enough shade now and then) and a gentle (if not humid) breeze coming in from the southwest. On our entire hike, we passed only one young couple and a golden retriever, so we had a quiet day to ourselves, celebrating nature and the kindness of God. It was wonderful. Imagine complete silence, only broken by the leaves rustling now and then in the occasional breeze and the ubiquitous sound of song birds, seeming to be completely enjoying the day as much as we were.

By mid day, we made it to the top of the crest, where we were promised a good view on the Alltrails review we’d read, and we stopped to have lunch and just sit. We found some decent shade beneath a couple balsam trees and planted ourselves there for the afternoon. We talked some, but mostly just sat, read our books and just soaked in the peace. It was really needed right then, and I so appreciated the opportunity (just 90 minutes from our home) to be there, to be with Joy, and to be with the song birds.

This painting was composed from several photos I took that day.

Your Opinion Please...

Okay so, I have a question and I’d be really curious about YOUR answer (ALL OF YOU READING THIS). True confessions…I love to explore, and then I love to paint what I find on that exploration. Most of what the visitors to my Asheville studio see on my gallery walls is the result of me painting what my wife Joy and I discover while exploring the western North Carolina mountains.

I was told years ago that what I paint and display in my Asheville studio should be (since it’s western North Carolina we’re talking about) Western North Carolina scenes. If that is really the case, I can be happy with that guideline probably forever. I love this part of the country. I love our gentle mountains. Places like Grandfather Mountain, Gorges State Park, Smoky Mountains National Park, and pretty much any vista seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway — there is far more than one lifetime of potential paintings right here. But…

In your opinion, should I stick mostly to local scenes or when I travel to various parts of the country (or various parts of the world), would you like to see paintings inspired by those places? I love painting. Period. I could probably paint my navel and be happy (but it would not sell). Trust me on that. I need to paint sellable paintings since selling my paintings is what I do to pay my mortgage and buy food to eat. And I like food to eat. I need what I choose to paint to (eventually) be sellable. So do I paint what excites me even if it’s a scene that is set far from an Asheville, North Carolina locale, or should I play it safe and continue to mostly paint local scenes?

That’s my question. And your response here would be SO much appreciated.

What's in a Compliment?

When I was a kid, I used to love looking through Time-Life books when I was bored. My parents had a whole set of them and my favorite one of all was about artists. I was mostly interested in impressionism. I had no idea why. I liked the colors. And yes, I really was that big a nerd.

It wasn’t until I was in high school that I learned that the impressionists like Monet and Renoir knew something about colors I knew intuitively but had not really had the time or maturity to have thought it through. What made the colors they used “pop” was their use of complimentary colors. So when most of the kids in my tenth grade art class were staring out the window or counting the dots in the acoustic tiles overhead (I saved that activity for algebra class), I was wrapped in attention. The teacher was explaining what seemed like the secrets of the universe. “This is how colors work”…amazing.

So, here’s the secret of the color universe…

When using primarily one color for the main subject of the painting, use the opposite color on the color wheel for the shadows or accents. The photo of the painting I did (at the top of the page) uses primarily green as the primary color, correct? What color is on the opposite side of the wheel? Maroon and purple, right? So look at the accent colors I used in the background and in the pathway…maroon and purple! Voila!

I literally think through this while painting every single piece I paint. I want colors to stir the viewer. I want colors to grab you and slap you silly. That is done not just with bright colors, but with complimentary colors.

I want colors to stir the viewer.

So what’s in a compliment? Everything (when you’re an artist).

I think there’s a life lesson here too. It’s getting more and more popular to demonize “the others” (people who are not like us). But my best experiences with relationships have ended up being with people who were both like me and completely unlike me. Opposites. What an amazing thing it would be if people from my own culture would seek out different cultures and people and languages and work together to create a more beautiful cultural experience than would ever be possible when that culture is “monocultural”. What a shame. I’d never create a painting with just warm colors. If I didn’t use some cool colors as well, that painting would not be beautiful at all. Again, maybe it’s just my opinion, but we may all have something to learn about life from our tenth grade art class!

My Christmas Present to Joy

“One Plate, Two Forks” (24” x 24”)

My fingers are cramped, my shoulders may well be permanently hunched and my brain is fried from the most tedious painting I’ve done in a long, LONG time. Do you feel sorry for me? Ahhhh, don’t. I was still having fun because I love painting. But really — this is probably the last photorealistic painting I’ll ever paint, so I pulled out all the stops. And this was my Christmas gift to my wife Joy, so…it had to be the best I had in me.

This painting, “One Plate, Two Forks”, is based on some photos I randomly decided to take on an early summer afternoon several years ago, when Joy and I first moved to Asheville, North Carolina. I had not yet started an art studio so technically my “art career” had not even begun. Joy and I were exploring downtown Asheville and we were both getting tired of walking. We mutually decided we needed coffee and maybe a snack, and so…we walked back to the car and drove up to the Grove Park Inn. This place has a “Vintage National Park Lodge” look to it, with huge stone fireplaces in the cavernous lobby (you seriously could fit a medium sized tree in one of the hearths!). Anyway we made our way out to the terrace restaurant overlooking downtown Asheville and the surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains. It was really a perfect afternoon.

My understanding was that we were going to get coffee and cherry cheesecake (we’d heard it was amazing). Let me clarify that expectation: My understanding was that we would both get our own cheesecake and our own coffee. But then, after we sat down and looked at the menu, Joy announced that just a coffee was fine with her…(long pause)…”I’ll just have a couple bites of your cheesecake if that’s okay”.

If that’s okay.

I’m no idiot. That statement is code for “I’m going to devour half your piece of cheesecake Steve”. After emotionally recovering and readjusting to the new, truly sad direction this conversation was going in, I agreed.

“One plate, two forks, please.”

That really describes our whole marriage I think. It’s all about sharing. I hate sharing. But it’s so, so good for me to do. She’s willingly shared really horrible and frightening experiences with me and she’s shared really awesome, adventurous and fun experiences with me. This piece of amazing cheesecake was just a good object lesson. There was our life on a plate…shared.

…that question is code for “I’m going to devour half

your piece of cheesecake Steve”.

You definitely do give up something (sometimes a WHOLE lot) when you share yourself, your grief, your joys, your experiences, your time, your cheesecake with other people. But I have found (I’m donning my philosophers hat right now) that you really do gain more than you loose if you share from a willing heart. And it’s different than just passively letting someone TAKE something from you. That’s not sharing, though I have sometimes confused it for sharing. It feels like that’s an expression of weakness, and can lead to resentment of the one who “took”. I think sharing something assumes you're willing to sacrifice for the sake of another because you love them. That, I think, is an expression of strength, not weakness. Love costs something.

So as a matter of fact, “Yes. You may even have half my beloved cheesecake. Let me just draw a line down the middle so it’s fair…”

Deep in the Heart

As an artist, I love pleasant surprises. In my book, pleasant surprises are kind of like the salsa on top of your taco. Is it a taco without that salsa? Well, yes — but not nearly as fun to eat (in my opinion). So that as the background, I’ll continue with this story.

This story involves an experience I had a couple years ago while visiting my kids. Three of my four children live next door to each other (literally three houses in a row). I absolutely love that. Grandchildren run around from house to house in our “St.Claire Village”. It’s so awesome for Joy and I to trek out there and work. I pack up the car with all my panels and paint so my business continues. I love that because I love painting, but I also love these little people barging into my studio all the time asking to see what I’m doing. I love when they ask if they can have some paper and crayons so they can draw too. If this is describing a pretty idyllic setting, I would agree. The only down side is that it’s in Texas. Sorry Texas. I love you but when I visit, I’m comparing you to the natural beauty of the North Carolina mountains and well…let’s just be honest. Flat, hot and dry is (in my book) really boring. I hope no Texans ever read this. The way they talk, Texas may as well be the Garden of Eden. Texans crack me up.

So visiting my family in the Dallas area is always a mix of thankful joy (seeing my children and a grandchildren) and sadness (leaving the natural beauty of Asheville). So a couple of years ago, Joy and I were visiting in the late spring and we decided that once we hit the Texas border in Texarkana, we’d leave the highway and just drive the “gray line roads” (those really minor roads on the map that are depicted in gray ink rather than heavier black ink) just the the sake of exploration. Joy is so patient with me! This is what it’s like living with an artist — the experience (even if it adds two more hours on an already fifteen hour road trip) is sometimes worth it!

So once we got off the main highway and were driving around north Texas on a wonderful narrow road, we found ourselves meandering through what can only be described as a “freaking beautiful” landscape. The fields were verdant green and everywhere you looked, there were these diminutive blue flowers blooming on the ground. I learned these are called “Bluebonnets” and Texans are very proud of them. Honestly, I can understand why. They are absolutely beautiful, and I had to admit, the scene before me was very “Garden of Eden” like. It was such a pleasant surprise and so worth the extra time driving. For the next several hours, we just explored and everywhere, the flat landscape was covered with a carpet of blue. Texas can be exquisite. There. I said it, okay? it’s TRUE.

So of course, a couple of weeks later, when planning our route back to North Carolina, we decided to see it all again from the other direction. We were so excited. We were going to take even more time and pretty much spend the whole day on that otherwise three hour drive. (Do you sense a “but” is about to come right about now? Uh huh.) BUT, the bluebonnets were all gone now and the fields were less green. Definitely no longer verdant. So, we cut back to the highway and continued on the long, boring drive back to Asheville.

What strikes me about this whole experience was how thankful I was that we took that time to explore. That extraordinary beauty was real. Short lived, but real. Texas was amazingly beautiful. FOR TWO WEEKS. I’m so glad I saw it. Fleeting as it was, I had to paint what it was I saw that day so that I can remember not to take the beauty of this planet for granted…to drink in and enjoy the awesome people and scenery (the grand and tiny) during the course of every day I’m here. That lesson is worth dedicating a painting to I think!

"How do you know you're done with a painting?"

I love the balance between oil painting (a very introvertive exercise) and talking to various people that wander into my Asheville studio (a very extroversive exercise). I’m constantly switching between my introvert and extrovert skill sets. Though it can be exhausting sometimes, it feels very healthy because I’ve found that when I’m pushed and stretched, I grow. One of the ways I grow is by thinking through the questions I’m constantly asked. Most of the questions are the same “What am I looking at?”, “How do you do this?” ,“What’s the shiny finish coat on these”, “Are these photos?”. But now and then, I get a questions out of left field and THAT is invigorating! Those questions make me really think.

“…my goals is that the eyes of EVERY viewer is lead around the piece along exactly the same pathway.”

One question I got recently from some really cool folks from Ohio was “how do you know when I painting is done?” THAT is a really great question! So for any other people interested, here’s my answer:

My paintings are created in many, many steps. They each take about a month to complete, longer if they’re large. The oil paint is applied to a many-layered textured background that I’ve covered with metallic leaf (ultra-thin sheets of metal). THEN I begin colorizing the metal surface with very, very thin layers of paint. Each layer of paint deepens and intensifies the color. Each painting may get at least ten layers of paint, sometimes more.

I keep applying the paint until two things happen:

1) The color is saturated enough. I want the colors to be intense in most cases, so I just keep applying the paint until I get the intensity I’m looking for. Every layer I apply intensifies the color of the painting by about 10%.

2) The values are correct. This means that there are areas that are VERY dark and areas that are VERY light. The very light areas get very little paint. The dark areas get many layers. Value is important, because value is what leads the eye around the piece. I always want to make it very easy to find the focal point of the piece (the first thing you stare at) and then my goals is that the eyes of EVERY viewer is lead around the piece along exactly the same pathway.

I would love to say that when these two points are addressed, then I know the painting is done. But honestly, I usually get a second opinion. When my wife Joy (also an artist) concurs that it’s done, THEN it’s done. Getting the knowledgeable input of another artist can be humbling. I like to think I know exactly what I’m doing, but that’s a fantasy. I really need the input of other people. That’s the great thing about working with other artists. That’s why I love having my primary studio in Asheville (with over 220 other artists).

So basically, it takes skill you’ve developed over time and humility (that is constantly developing) to really be able to tell when a painting is “done”.

Does it Matter What Other People Think of My Art?

The question “Does it really matter what other people think of my artwork?” has been asked more times that I can count. And I hear where that question is coming from and I think it definitely deserves some time thinking through. As a full time artist, a big part of me says that it shouldn’t matter what OTHER people think of my artwork; the only thing that should matter is whether I as the artist think it’s good or not. That sounds right…doesn’t it?? To care what other people think just seems like it would completely destroy any wellspring of creativity, right? I definitely don’t want my creativity constrained.

Track with me here…does it matter if people like what I sing in the shower? Does it matter if people like what I made for dinner last night? Does it matter if anyone likes what I wrote in my journal last week? If any of these things matter, I probably need counseling for narcissism. Why would anyone even care?

But…

But caring about what people think about what I sing, cook or write is ridiculous because people are not paying me to sing (think God), cook or write. But since I am creating artwork to SELL TO PEOPLE, I absolutely HAVE to care about what other people think about my artwork. And I have never found that to be constraining my creativity at all. Quite the contrary, over the years as I listen to people and seriously take comments to heart as I’m selecting new ideas to work with or old ideas not to try again…the willingness to listen and let other people guide (not completely determine, but guide) my work has been so, so helpful.

I can hear some artist laugh derisively “Sell out!”. Maybe. I don’t feel like a sell out though. I’d be a sell out if I felt in my soul that I wanted to express this or that with my artwork and then did not because it would make me or my work unpopular. I’d feel like a sell out then. But I don’t have much of anything to express other than joy. That might sound so very sappy. I’m sappy. I absolutely love painting. I don’t remember anything I’ve been asked to paint that I didn’t have a blast in the process of creation. If that joy does not come out in a piece of art that I create, THAT will mean that I’m a sell out. I’ll leave the serious artistic subjects, the social commentaries and societal critiques to other artists. They’re valid and I enjoy their work, but that’s not who I am. And since I want studio visitors to BUY my work and not just stare at it, I think it’s rather important that I swallow my pride and listen to critique.

So does it matter what other people think of my art? No. Not at all (if I don’t expect to sell any of that artwork).