Question 11: Where do you get inspiration for your work?

This question, “Where do you get your inspiration?” is one of the most asked questions I get. And it’s funny. It’s actually one of the most difficult questions to answer. It’s like someone asking you, “how do you breath?” Simple question, but how do you answer it? “I…uh…just do?” I don’t know how other artists might answer this question, but since this is my blog, I’ll answer it for myself.

For me personally, I need peace inside my head to create. I need quiet. This may just be because I’m an introvert rather than because peace is intricately connected to creativity. I don’t know. Maybe an extroverted artist would feel different, but that’s not me. And for me, quiet and peace happen best when I’m walking or (preferably) hiking in nature. It can take me a while to walk a few miles because I like to stop and just breathe, listen, take in the essence of the place. Hah! That sounds so “spiritual” but honestly, for me, I guess it really is. I can’t think outside the box and create when life is rushed, loud and crazy. I love rushed, loud and crazy (in bite sized pieces), don’t get me wrong. I just can’t create in that environment.

“…I feel the intense desire to communicate to someone else what I’m feeling at that moment in such a way that they feel it too.”

And usually, walking in that quiet place, taking it all in, I’m with my wife Joy. So it may be quiet around me, but I sometimes talk a lot in that context, expressing myself and processing the emotions the place excites inside my head. Does anyone else do this??? I’m probably really annoying to hike with.

Joy: “Why are we stopping?”

Me: “Listen to that!”

Joy: “What? I don’t hear anything”

Me: “I know. Isn’t it beautiful? Just the wind…that’s all I hear. That’s so beautiful!”

Joy is very patient and is really great at entering with me into that “sacred space”. It’s there I get ideas, and at that point, it’s not just “Oh, I can paint that mountain over there!” It’s more like I feel the intense desire to communicate to someone else what I’m feeling at that moment in such a way that they feel it too. When you look at it that way, it’s actually a very intimate thing — creating a piece of art.

So in a nutshell, I get my inspiration from walking, prayer, breathing and listening in the context of nature. It can take hours, so I can’t rush it at all. But given the time (and the quiet), inspiration comes and at that point, in that quiet moment, it can ironically break in like a hurricane. I love that.

How to Handle Failure

I’ve been super busy lately. Hint: I hate being super busy unless I’m super busy painting. I hear you can have too much of a good thing, but that rule of thumb does not apply to my artwork (not so far anyway). I get lost in my artwork. It’s really my very happy place.

Until last Wednesday.

I was working on a series of three pieces that will be hung together (as a triptych). It was a pretty simple scene — mountain ranges and sky. I know how to paint mountain ranges and sky so I figured that this was going to be pretty simple. I began to apply the paint day after day and eventually, the piece entered “the ugly stage”. So far so good. See, every painting I ever have done has gone through that dreaded “ugly stage”. That stage is where most fledgling artists stop and throw their canvas against the wall and shout out some colorful French obscenities. The thing about the ugly stage is that usually, the very next day, the piece rounds the corner and begins to take on some maturity — it starts to look like what you intended it to look like. That is such an awesome thing. That turning point happens within a day or two of entering that ugly stage.

Until last Wednesday.

I could not make this painting idea work. It was boring. It was ugly and I was coming to the realization that the ugly I was seeing was not just a stage. It was really bad. I’ve heard gallery visitors tell their children, “Oh sweetie, just remember…there are NO MISTAKES in art”.

IF ONLY.

I make mistakes. What you do with the mistake is what will sink you or what will propel you as a creative person into a completely different direction. But oh man, it’s so difficult. I hate failure.

I refrained from throwing the canvases across the room, and I don’t know French swear words and I don’t say English swear words so I was really stuck. I felt so discouraged and frustrated. My painting was ugly and boring. And that is not okay. I sat with that realization and had to just admit that I was not perfect and that THAT was okay.

By the time evening came, I was ready to just scrape off what I’d begun painting and start all over again with a different idea. The “ugly stage” bested me. I think my real problem was that I wanted to just knock out something easy — so I painted mountain ranges and sky. I can do that in my sleep. It turns out that laziness and pride is not the friend of creativity. When I do the best work is when I approach a subject with joy, curiosity, respect and reverence and that is definitely not how I approached my failed triptych.

Maybe creativity needs silence to be ignited.

So at 2:30 AM, I woke up. In that very quiet and still time of the night, nothing was in my head at all. My mind was a completely blank canvas (pardon the pun). And quite unbidden, I instantly saw in my head an idea I’d never thought of before. And then I got so excited, I walked up to my attic studio and seriously contemplated starting to scrape off my old composition so I could begin the new idea right then and there. With wisdom not my own, I decided that idea was over the top and that I needed sleep so…several hours later I began to transform this triptych into something completely different than I’ve ever done before. And I’m having so much fun with it, that I’ve started an additional single painting using the same technique I’m using for the triptych!

Why moments of insight can’t come at 2:00 PM rather than 2:00 AM is unknown to me but that’s often how it works. Maybe creativity needs silence to be ignited. Maybe my heart needs stillness to be able to hear the voice of the real Creator. I don’t know. It feels mystical though.

When I’m done with these pieces. I’m so excited and continue to have so much fun doing what I do. And I’m so thankful people are willing to part with their money in exchange for one of my paintings. That is amazing and humbling.

So, more than ever, I am committed never to forget my real task: to approach every subject I paint with joy, curiosity, respect and reverence, even if it means I need to slow down and be quiet in order to make sure that happens.

"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.

"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”.

"Art from the Heart" vs "Commissioned Art"

There are really so few things that baffle and (to be honest) frustrate me as an artist. I am by nature a very “even keel” type of person, so when something stands out as “irritating”, it’s kind of a big deal for me. See, I regularly come across people that have a very set view of who and what an artist is (even before they meet me). No one likes to be pre-judged and I guess I’m no exception.

See, every now and then, I have people visit my studio and I can tell they like my work. For instance, they may hang out for fifteen to twenty minutes browsing slowly, leave and have lunch, then come back and browse even more slowly. That is usually a pretty good sign someone is genuinely interested in my work. Most of the time, behavior like this eventually results in a sale of one of my paintings or the commissioning of something specific. But every now and then, the couple at this point will look pained. Interested but pained. “Do you have all your work displayed or do you have something else in storage?” they’ll ask. I explain that basically, I don’t have storage. If I need to store paintings, my prices are too high. They smile, and then I explain that if they like something but it’s the wrong size, I can repaint it the right size for them. “No, we’re looking for a painting that is 36 x 48, probably a summer scene but you don’t really have anything that will work for our space”. “Well,” I explain, “if you have a photo you’d like me to use, or if you can give me an idea of something specific that you’d like to see, you can commission a painting based on that idea and size. I don’t charge any more for commissions, and I guarantee your satisfaction with what I paint and I do free shipping as a thank you.”

But then…

“Oh, we would rather just check in whenever we’re back in Asheville and see what you have available. We don’t want to dictate to the artist what they paint. We’d much rather have something that comes from your heart, not ours”.

“…my heart and joy are in every single painting I’ve ever painted.”

You may well think “Oh, that’s so sensitive! What a kind person that is!” Yes, probably. But that drives me crazy. It rattles me because that assumes that the art that comes from my own head will be of higher quality or have “more life and energy” in it than if it comes from the heart of the client. To be clear, the idea behind all the commissions I’ve ever done have come from my clients. But the heart and energy in the piece is from me. I don’t care at all where the idea comes from. I love to paint. May I just be honest? Look, if a client gives me a photo as inspiration for a painting, it saves me all sorts of time hunting down a good photo to use as inspiration for my next piece. No one who has commissioned a painting from me has received a lesser quality painting because it was commissioned by them. Honestly, my heart and joy are in every single painting I’ve ever painted. I simply love painting and I don’t care if that seed idea comes from my own head or from yours. The painting will always come from my heart.

Okay, time for a cup of herbal tea I think. I feel much better now.

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 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?

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!)

Story Behind the Painting: "Sundown over the Blue Ridge"

Last summer, my wife Joy and I hiked to the top of Max Patch, a barren mountaintop right at the crest of the Appalachian mountains. It’s about an hours drive from our house in Asheville but we LOVE going here with a picnic dinner to watch the sunset. You can see for nearly a hundred miles from the summit of Max Patch. It’s amazing. 

So last summer, we spread the picnic blanket, lit the candle (great way to class up a mountaintop date), pulled out the rotisserie chicken, potato salad, three bean salad and a bottle of wine. And Pims (Per Joy, you have to have Pims for desert when on one of these mountaintop dates).  

It was a perfect evening. It was a hot, sweaty day down in Asheville, but up here, Joy had a sweater on. Picture a nearly cloudless afternoon, watching the sun set over the horizon. With every moment, the sunlight grew more and more golden, then orange and then just hovered on the horizon and then…show’s over. We sat there and chatted, enjoying the cool breeze until it was starting to get dark. 

Picture a nearly cloudless afternoon,

watching the sun set over the horizon…

A couple weeks later, I was at the studio painting and a guest came in asking for a commission. They’d found a photo from (wait for it….) Max Patch and wanted me to paint it for them, which I very happily did. This was one I wish I could have kept, because it wasn’t just a nice painting (in my opinion), but it recalled a memory. I’m always telling people interested in a commission to look through their photos from their favorite vacations. I can paint them! And that memory infused that artwork with power. Crazy huh? If my artwork can have the power to call someone in this (at present) crazy world back to a place of joy and peace, that’s almost spiritual. I love that! 

Anyway, for me personally, that’s the power this particular painting has for me.

Q&A: SESSION TWO

“Pointe de la Cuisse”

So, this is the second of probably three posts answering random (REALLY RANDOM) questions I’ve been asked. By you. Thank you!

Questions and Answers:

Question 1: Choose one place in the world to travel to for inspiration.

Oh, I so love that question. It’s really easy to answer: Venice, Italy. When I was there, it was (surprise!) packed with tourists, but honestly, all we had to do was to walk a couple blocks away from the main streets (filled with tourists) and we were all by ourselves. It was amazing. It’s a winding maze of awesome 3’ wide “streets” with laundry draped like prayer flags over each tiny street. And at the end of each “street” was a little courtyard flooded with light, so no matter where we explored, we were lured through dark narrow “streets” by the light just beyond. Because of this, Venice is a city that inspires curiosity and exploration. And…they have awesome food and wine. :)

Question 2: If you could write a book about your life, what would the title be?

“Where Are My Keys?, by Stephen St.Claire. How’s that?

The big issue is that I have to work hard and very deliberately to think about something deep enough to etch it into my mind. Like “okay, I’m putting my keys on the dining room table” (and actually say it out loud). If I don’t do something like that, I’ll just shed the keys and not give any thought at all as to where I shed them. And it’s not just keys, it’s everything. And it’s not just recently, it’s since I can remember. I think my problem is a “focusing” problem.

I remember my parents saying things like “THINK! Steve. Think!” That assumed that I wasn’t thinking, but I’m ALWAYS thinking. My mind is always turned “on”. I’m dreaming, pondering and creating in my head. I don’t know how to stop. There are places I go and practices I employ to help my brain slow down and that’s really helpful. But it doesn’t “stop” it.

This trait (I think it’s pretty common in creative people) is irritating but it’s also helpful to me. My artwork comes from this churning brain of mine. I’ve learned to love this trait actually (though my wife is not quite there yet). Because I’m an artist, the fact that I’m always thinking, dreaming, debating in my head, planning and creating makes my paintings the natural and logical outlet for what’s going on in my mind. That’s why I love artwork. I’m sure I’d go mad if I didn’t have that way to get it all out of my head (at least momentarily).