Blog Archives
Q: What is more important to you, the subject of the painting or the way it is executed?
A: In a sense my subject matter – folk art, masks, carved wooden animals, papier mâché figures, toys – chose me. With it I have complete freedom to experiment with color, pattern, design, and other formal properties. In other words, although I am a representational artist, I can do whatever I want since the depicted objects need not look like real things. Execution is everything now.
This was not always the case. I started out in the 1980s as a traditional photorealist, except I worked in pastel on sandpaper. (For example, see the detail in Sam’s sweater above). As I slowly learned and mastered my craft, depicting three-dimensional people and objects hyper-realistically in two dimensions on a piece of sandpaper was thrilling… until one day it wasn’t.
My personal brand of photorealism became too easy, too limiting, too repetitive, and SO boring to execute! In 1989 I had at last extricated myself from a dull career as a Naval officer working in Virginia at the Pentagon. Then after much planning, in 1997 I was a full-time professional artist working in New York.
Certainly I was not going to throw away this opportunity by making boring photorealist art. I wanted to do so much more as an artist: to experiment with techniques, with composition, to see what I could make pastel do, to let my imagination play a larger role in the paintings I made. I was ready to devote the time and do whatever it took to push my art further.
After spending the early creative years perfecting my technical skills, I built on what I had learned. I began breaking rules – slowly at first – in order to push myself onward. And I continue to do so, never knowing what’s next. Hopefully, in 2018 my art is richer for it.
Comments are welcome!
Q: What’s on the easel today?
A. I have just started working on a small pastel painting. Although the mask looks Tibetan, surprisingly, it is from Bolivia. It’s one I encountered at a mask exhibition at the Museum of Ethnography and Folklore in La Paz. This is another in my “Bolivianos” series.
Comments are welcome!
Q: On an average day in the studio, how much of your time is spent in the physical act of making art?
A: My typical studio day is from 10:00 to 5:00. When I arrive, I often read for half an hour. Reading helps me relax and focus and get into the mindset I need to do my work. While I read, I look at the painting on my easel, assess it’s current state, and decide where to begin working.
Then I work until lunch time, generally around 1:00. After lunch I work for another five hours or so, taking a break whenever I want.
This has been more or less my schedule for five days a week for years. At an earlier point as I was developing my craft, I would work 9- or 10-hour days and six days a week.
My creative process is relatively slow. In a typical year I create five new pastel paintings. This year I am right on schedule. I have completed four and am working on a fifth.
Comments are welcome!
Q: When you are in your studio working on a pastel painting and pause to consider what you have done, do you ask yourself, “Is it good?”
A: Certainly, I do. In addition, I ask myself some other important questions:
Is it the best I can do?
Is it exciting?
Is it surprising?
Is it idiosyncratic and unique to me?
Is there anything I can do to improve it?
Does it meet (or hopefully exceed) the exacting technical and formal standards I have set for my work?
Will I be proud to finally see my signature on it?
Comments are welcome!
Q: How do you deal with the loneliness of working in a studio?
A: I never feel lonely when I’m working. I love being in my studio and even after thirty years, still find the whole process of making a pastel painting completely engaging.
Painting is the one activity that not only uses all of my mental and physical abilities, but challenges me to push further. I am at my best in the studio.
Because there is always more to learn and process into the work, creating art is endlessly fascinating! Most artists probably feel the same way. It’s one of the reasons we persist.
Comments are welcome!
Pearls from artists* # 231
* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
This is the one experience that has been confirmed repeatedly and to which I have progressed slowly after a fearful, despondent childhood: that the true advances of my life could not be brought about by force, but occur silently, and that I prepare for them while working quietly and with concentration on the things that on a deep level I recognize to be my tasks.
The Poet’s Guide to Life: The Wisdom of Rilke, edited and translated by Ulrich Baer
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