The Enchantment of Art Nouveau

Art Nouveau is exciting in my opinion. I love this period of art. It is art that is whimsical , fluid and themed after nature itself. Art Nouveau speaks like a whisper from nature itself, a dance of lines and light that turns the ordinary into the extraordinary. Born in the late 19th century, it bloomed in defiance of the cold, mechanical world, weaving beauty back into life’s fabric. It was more than an art movement—it was a celebration, a rebellion against the rigid and the mundane, a return to nature’s embrace.

Its fluidity is mesmerizing — the way its curves seem to breathe and flow like vines reaching toward the sun. Alphonse Mucha’s women, draped in golden light and cascading hair, feel like ethereal muses of a forgotten dream. Gustav Klimt’s shimmering canvases, rich with gold and longing, seem to pulse with hidden magic. Even Gaudí’s buildings twist and turn like ancient trees, growing from the earth with wild, organic grace.

“Its fluidity is mesmerizing…”

But what I love most is how Art Nouveau makes art part of life. No longer confined to fancy gilded frames, it spills into the world—etched into wrought iron balconies, swirling through stained glass windows, carved into the very wood beneath our hands. It reminds me that beauty is not something distant or rare; it can be found in the smallest details, in a curve, in a pattern, in the way light filters through glass.

Art Nouveau is a reminder to slow down, to look closer, to breathe in the poetry of the world. It is nature’s art, forever blooming, forever alive.

Graceful curves unfold,

Nature’s whispers in the lines,

Beauty’s breath entwined.

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!

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??

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.

"The Four Seasons on the French Broad River"

“The Four Seasons”

Growing up in Southern California, I never really experienced “seasons” per se. There was “foggy season” (May-June), “Fire Season” (September-October) and the rest was just hot. Living now in Asheville, North Carolina, I’m so loving the rhythm actual seasons bring to the year. Winter doesn’t last ALL that long, and it usually brings with it a few beautiful snow days. Spring is amazing. Absolutely awesome. Dogwoods are blooming and daffodils and tulips are going crazy. Summer is hot yes, but perfect for tubing down the French Broad River, hiking and camping up in the higher elevations. And then there is autumn. Oh my gosh. Autumn was always just a “theoretical” season growing up. Autumn in the Blue Ridge mountains of Western North Carolina is amazing. Autumn brings more visitors to my art studio in Asheville’s River Arts District than any other season of the year.

“…the power of beauty inspires the power of healing…”

The beauty of seasonal change is a big part of what I love about living in Asheville and working in my art studio. So I was really excited to have been asked by Mission Hospital to create a “Four Seasons” series for their Asheville campus. Each panel is 42” x 16” and each are covered with multiple layers of solar-resistant resin (so the surface is glassy-smooth).

This series was inspired by the many floats down the French Broad River that Joy and I make every summer, and it was great fun depicting each season, trying to think of the particulars about each one (blooming dogwoods in the spring panel and pink rhododendrons in the summer panel). My hope is that this series gives the doctors, nurses and patients at Mission the opportunity to “get lost” in each scene, and that the power of beauty inspires the power of healing. I think that’s possible!

Thoughts on New Directions, New Possibilities

I'm an oil painter in the River Arts District in Asheville, North Carolina. I love our spot in the Blue Ridge mountains. It's really a fun, dynamic and sometimes crazy little city here in Western North Carolina. I've been painting in a studio in the arts district for almost eight years now and in my current studio for three years this month. It's been amazing. I get to paint and talk to people interested in artwork all day long, five days a week.

It is very much in my personality (maybe it's a basic human tendency??) to think "this will last forever". I love to "pigeon-hole" things so that life looks organized. And as much as I love change, there is something almost intoxicating about the idea of stasis, you know? Predictability can be comforting. The trick for a person with an artistic-adventurous spirit like me to find the line between predictability and unplanned adventure. The balance between predictability and adventure, comfort and fun -- that is the goal.

Sometimes though, so many things can change so very quickly. This season I am entering looks like one of those seasons of change, and from where I sit, it all (thankfully) looks like very good change. There are possibilities of new interesting painting commissions here in Asheville, new painting themes, expansion of my technique with a variety of finishes on my work, expansion of my market with international art galleries and the development of a new part-time art studio in the Dallas area (where three of our four kids live).

So over the next few months, I'm looking forward to sharing my adventures (if they work out) and maybe some disappointments (if my expectations do not work out) but it may be a pretty interesting next several months. In the mean time, I will keep painting, keep my studio doors wide open and totally enjoy the fall season (traditionally the busiest time of our year).

On the Brink of a Huge Failure

It's Sunday, and traditionally a day of rest. And it IS restful today for me, but last Sunday...my head was in a very different place, and that place was not at all pretty. I was basically a basket case. Let me explain...

A couple months ago, my son (who was visiting Maui with his wife at the time) emailed me from Lahaina and says "Dad, there's a gallery owner over here that wants you to contact him!". I was not familiar with the gallery (or Lahaina for that matter) but apparently, because Hawaii does not charge sales tax for artwork purchased, it's become an art destination. And apparently, some the THE top-dollar galleries in the world are on Front Street running through the town of Lahaina. So, I contacted the owner of the gallery and ended up sending him two of my paintings. They are now hanging on his gallery wall there. But he then asked for three more pieces ASAP. Understand, these three paintings (of water lilies) have GOT to be amazing. Awesome. Unrivaled. Because, if this gallery picks me up as one of their artists...that's a total game-changer for me. It makes what I consider now as the artistic "big leagues" look like the pee-wee league. It's absolutely amazing (and humbling) that my paintings are even being considered for representation there.

So all that to say, these paintings are potentially VERY important. And last Saturday afternoon when I left the studio, they looked horrible.

The paintings had turned the corner.

I didn't sleep many hours at all that night. So after church on Sunday morning, Joy was okay with us heading over to the studio to look that these paintings with fresh eyes. To be honest, they actually looked a bit better than I'd remembered from the night before. So we prayed, and asked for artistic and creative insight. And we looked at these paintings afresh and figured out what to do next. I spent about an hour that Sunday afternoon a week ago implementing the ideas we came up with and...when I left that afternoon to enjoy the rest of my "day of rest" at home, I left a bit encouraged. The paintings had turned the corner. 

So now a week later, I honestly think these three paintings may well leave my studio as my favorite pieces I've ever done. Imagine that. How ironic it was I was really thinking I'd failed just one week ago.

There's a moral to this story I think. Maybe it's up to you to apply it to your own life and situation right now. Your input at this point would be awesome! I'd love to hear what you think!

A Word About Accolades

Since it's Sunday and my "day of rest" in which I can enjoy some down time to think and relax, I was mulling over this past week at my art studio. There were moments of listening to critique and moments of listening to praise. I've written previous blogs about some of the critique artists can get, and learning how to gracefully listen to that critique (without punching someone) is a useful skill. But there is one skill infinitely more important to master and that is how to deal with praise. Not dealing with praise correctly, I think, can destroy creativity and ruin a life and I'm not being overly dramatic when I say that. I'm speaking from personal experience. 

When I was a kid, art was the only thing I did well. I was teased a lot and easily crumbled emotionally. But I found that if I created something artistically, the same people that teased me earlier would praise me. So...I wanted to be the best at art. And the insidious thing about it was that this determination was unrecognized by me (or anyone else) as being dangerous at all. What's wrong with wanting to be really great at something? We praise people who have grit like that. But I didn't just want to be great. I wanted to be greatest. And because I probably had some natural abilities in art, and because I applied myself to the extreme to creative endeavors, I was consistently the best artist in all my school classes and life was sweet. Until...

When I entered high school, I met a guy that toppled me from my throne: John Howarth. John was a nice guy and popular. But I kept my distance. I did not like John Howarth, because he ruined life for me. He was the first person I met that was a much better artist than I was, and for the next three years, I was forced to deal with being "second best" (which to me, felt like utter failure).

Thankfully, I can honestly say I learned something from that whole experience. I learned that praise is addictive. It's nice but the more you get, the more you need. It's never enough. I learned that I was USING my art and my abilities to create and bolster a sometimes sagging self image. But I came to believe that creative ability was not given to me as a means to an end. I firmly believe that art is a joy in and of itself. It is the gift, not the means to the gift. And interestingly enough, I can look back at my high school years and the emotional-spiritual processing going on in me and can see that that was a real turning point for me, and my creativity radically increased. When I stopped using art to get attention and "be someone" and simply enjoyed art, creativity opened almost unbidden, like a flower in my hand.

So, I feel sorry for people who are criticized. Unasked for critique especially is difficult to hear and not become instantly defensive. But I'm terrified of people who can't bear to not be "the best". I've been nearly destroyed by people like that. But I'm probably scared of them because I was just like that, so it's like looking in a mirror if I can be honest (and it's my blog, so that's my prerogative). They say that the things that bug you the most about someone else are probably your own weakest areas. I have found that to be true.

So for what it's worth, here's some advice:

If you're criticized for something you do, don't let criticism crush you. Listen to it. I mean, there may be some helpful nuggets of truth mixed in with all the garbage, so sort out the critique like someone sifting through a latrine for a wedding ring dropped into it.

If you're praised for something you do, just enjoy the praise for what it is in the moment it's given. Don't live off it or for it, and don't make adulation and attention that thing you need to base your life on. Personally, I need something much more stable and eternal for something that important. That's just my opinion. Happy Sunday!

"On the Water"

"On the Water" was a surprise. See, every now and then, I get a visitor to my Asheville art studio (in the River Arts District) that sees one of my paintings in progress...with just the aluminum leaf applied to the texture, no paint, no resin, nothing but texture. And they say, "I love it just like it is!" Okay, so this one is for you, visitor, if you've thought "why does he muck it up with all the paint???"

Muck it up? Really?? (Some comments call for a thick skin.)

Listening to the Minority...

I had intended to paint this one but at the very last minute, I thought that maybe this would be a good one to leave naked (so to speak). I was especially happy with the composition, because it really does hold together well (and is interesting) sans coloration. And so, I just coated it with one thin layer of resin and voila!

"On the Water" is the only painting in my studio collection with no color at all. But it's still getting a good deal of attention so I'm thinking those few people who have wandered into my Depot Street studio in the River Arts District may not all be wrong. Not entirely anyway. We'll see if it sells (that's the real test). But honestly, it's pretty cool. Am I allowed to say that? I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE. There. I feel much better being honest.

Cheers!

"Valley of Shadows"

Valley of Shadows

In September 2017, Joy and I visited a good friend in Munich, Germany. While there, we explored what is left of the concentration camp at Dachau. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw and felt. 

Visitors to Dachau are very quiet. It's a horrible and holy place. The weight of the evil is still there. You can still feel it. I think it will always be palpable. It should be. I left Dachau needing to express my own grief. This painting is that expression.

Notes about Valley of Shadows
1) Featured on the far left of this piece is the iron gate with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (Work Makes you Free). This gate was the way in, but rarely the way out.

2) Moving to the right, set against and gray and blue stripes reminiscent of the uniform prisoners were given to wear is the gold star of David, beneath which are the countless souls who suffered here.

3) Moving to the far right, I inserted a scene from the Arch of Titus in Rome, featuring Roman soldiers carrying off the menorah from the temple in Jerusalem (another time of absolute grief and horror). It is at this point, against the blackness, I inserted a symbol of hope. Hope is displayed near the far right of the canvas, carrying the eye off the artwork...onto...what? That is what hope does -- carries our imagination into the unknown, with the assumption that goodness and beauty and life is coming soon.

"Even when I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of death,
I will not fear, because You are with me.
Your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4