What can I learn from Makoto Fujimura in 2025?

The last several posts have related to my thoughts on artists of the past. As I draw this series to a close, I thought that it would be fun to finish up with my favorite contemporary artist, Makoto Fujimura. Mako Fujimura is a Japanese American artist known for his luminous abstract paintings that combine contemporary vision with ancient techniques and more than any other living artist, has influenced my own work. Born in Boston and raised partly in Japan, he studied at Tokyo University of the Arts, becoming one of the first non-Japanese nationals to train in nihonga—a traditional art form that uses hand-ground minerals, precious metals, and natural pigments on paper and silk. Beyond painting, he’s also a writer, speaker, and founder of the International Arts Movement, which encourages artists to see beauty as an act of cultural care.

Learning about Fujimura’s journey feels both comforting and challenging to me as an artist. What first draws me in is the way he treats tradition. Instead of seeing nihonga as something rigid or outdated, he uses it as a living language. His paintings shimmer with layers of crushed malachite, gold, and silver, creating something deeply rooted yet unmistakably new. This really struck a chord with me many years ago when I first saw his work and, learning from his example, the take away for me was that I don’t have to break from the past to be original. I can let my own history, influences, and cultural background nourish what I create.

Another lesson I find moving is how Fujimura sees art as a response to the world’s wounds. After the events of 9/11, he didn’t turn away from pain; he gathered other artists to explore how beauty can speak into tragedy. That challenges me to think about my own work: could it be more than self-expression? Could it be a gentle invitation to hope, or even a quiet act of healing?

I’m also struck by Fujimura’s embrace of slowness. His process—patiently building up translucent layers over months or years—is almost a meditation. In a world that pushes me to rush and produce, his art feels like a reminder that depth, meaning, and beauty often grow slowly.

Finally, what resonates most is how naturally Fujimura’s faith flows into his art. He doesn’t separate what he believes from what he makes; his paintings feel like offerings—humble gestures of gratitude and wonder. It makes me reflect on what grounds my own creativity and invites me to approach my work as something sacred, rather than just something to finish and show.

Through Fujimura’s life, I’m learning to slow down, honor tradition, create as an act of love, and let something deeper guide my art. His example makes me hopeful—not only for what I might make, but for the kind of artist, and person, I might become.

What can I learn from Pablo Picasso in 2025?

Growing up, I think it’s safe to say I never cared for the work of Pablo Picasso. It was art that made me roll my eyes and laugh. But as I got older and took art history classes in college, I learned more about this guy and I began to appreciate him more and more. Thinking about Pablo Picasso, I’m reminded of the power of reinvention—the courage to break all the rules and start fresh, again and again. Picasso’s career was a constant journey of exploration, from his Blue Period to Cubism and beyond. For an artist in 2025, that restless creativity is incredibly inspiring.

Picasso didn’t fear change. He embraced it. He challenged conventions and redefined what art could be. That teaches me that it’s okay—even necessary—to let go of old ideas about what “good” art looks like, and to follow where curiosity leads.

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

He also reminds me that playfulness and seriousness can coexist. Picasso’s work is sometimes joyful, sometimes intense, but it’s always honest. He invites me to be brave with my own work—to experiment, to fail, and to find joy in the process.

Picasso was incredibly prolific—creating tens of thousands of works over his lifetime. But what strikes me most is his ability to reinvent himself without losing the core of who he was. That balance between evolution and authenticity feels essential, especially in a world that pushes for constant self-branding.

He also worked across mediums—painting, sculpture, ceramics, printmaking—reminding me that creativity isn’t confined to one form. Exploring different ways to express ideas can unlock new perspectives.

Picasso’s legacy teaches me that art is a lifelong adventure, full of surprises and reinvention. In 2025, as I face my own creative challenges, his example encourages me to stay curious, be bold, and never stop playing with possibilities. I still remember rolling my eyes and laughing at his work when I was a kid. I’m glad I grew up.

What can I learn from Caravaggio in 2025?

When I think about Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (Caravaggio for short), I’m always struck by how he uses light and shadow. Those sharp contrasts pull me in every time, as if his scenes are frozen between night and day, or between stillness and chaos. But what really stays with me isn’t just how he painted—it’s how unapologetically honest he was, how boldly he approached both his art and his life. That kind of raw courage feels especially meaningful to me as an artist trying to make sense of the world in 2025.

Caravaggio wasn’t interested in prettiness or idealization. He painted saints with bruises and dirt on their feet, ordinary people caught in divine moments. That bold realism—his willingness to show the world as gritty and flawed—challenges me. In a time when social media often pushes perfection, Caravaggio’s work reminds me to embrace imperfection, messiness, and truth.

“I do not think there is anything more powerful than truth seen through the human experience.”

His life was turbulent—marked by passion, violence, and exile. Yet, despite personal chaos, his paintings convey a sense of immediacy and emotional intensity. That tension between darkness and light feels like a metaphor for creativity itself: it’s not always comfortable, but it’s real.

Caravaggio also broke with tradition, refusing to paint in the classical, idealized styles favored by his patrons. Instead, he brought the divine down to earth, using ordinary people as his models. I think his work challenges us to question the accepted norms and to find my own voice, even if it means breaking rules. Sometimes, that’s okay.

And then there’s his mastery of chiaroscuro—the way light slices through darkness. It reminds me that contrast isn’t just visual; it’s emotional, psychological. Sometimes art has to confront darkness before it finds light. That’s a lesson I carry when I’m facing creative blocks or doubts.

Caravaggio’s art feels alive because it’s honest, unflinching, and human. In 2025, when the pressure to “perform” can feel overwhelming, his example encourages me to create work that’s true to the messy, beautiful complexity of life.

How to deal with criticism as an artist

Beauty or just a big mess?

First off, I love creating art. I pour my whole heart and soul into every single painting I create, and so I have a whole lot of me invested in my work. Most artists I know understand exactly what I’m talking about. Creating art is risky. See, if people love what you create, it feels amazing. If people don’t love what you create, it can be completely devastating. So I say that creating art is risky because with every piece you create, you’re basically putting your soul out there for the whole world to judge.

Or not.

That last sentence describes my way of looking at my own art abilities when I was a grade schooler. I was always the best artist in each of my classes growing up and since I was NOT the top of my class when it came to team sports or academics, I made my artistic abilities my key to feeling accepted by my classmates. That scheme worked great until high school. In tenth grade, I realized that I was no longer the “best artist” in my grade and I kind of fell apart. By my late teens, I realized I was just using art as a tool to get what I really wanted: to feel like I deserved to be here, earning my right to breathe, and I have learned that no ability I could possibly have can give me that kind of inner-soul validation. That’s got to come from somewhere else. Art cannot bear that kind of weight.

And so, over time, I have learned that my art abilities were just given to me to enjoy. That’s it. They are my key to fun. They are not my key to feeling acceptable as a human. And when that weight is taken off of art, creativity can just be enjoyed, so nothing is on the line. If people like my artwork, I’m happy. I like it, and I’m glad when someone else does too. If someone doesn’t like it, that’s got to be okay. Nothing is on the line. So when someone critiques my work, I really try to take a deep breath and listen. Over and over again, I have been able to glean something from every critical comment. Every artist has got to be okay with the idea that they are not perfect; that they make mistakes and that they are still growing. The most difficult people I’ve ever been around are those that are convinced that they never make mistakes. The other group of people that are really difficult to be around are those that think they SHOULD NEVER make mistakes and when they do, they nose dive into depression. Both types of people are arrogant…two sides of the same coin. I don’t want to be like that.

“I have learned that my art abilities were just given to me to enjoy. That’s it.”

The man I want to be informs the artist I want to be. My faith tells me that my Creator loves me and approves of me. That faith says that one day I will stand before him. Him. Only him. That faith teaches me that I am forgiven and loved and approved by him already. And if that is true, then there doesn’t exist anyone whose critique or disapproval can undo the approval my creator promises me I already have.

Honestly, that’s what I remind myself every time I receive a critique. Nothing is on the line. And in every critique, if I listen, there may just be an element or two of wisdom and I can use that wisdom to improve my craft. And because I love my craft, I want it to be constantly improving. Critiques are just part of that.

New Goals + Winter Months = "Outside the Box" Creativity

During the winter months, Asheville's River Arts District turns into a ghost town, but I've found the winter months to be an awesome time to think, dream, imagine and plan new work. When it's slow and I have time to catch my breath a bit, that's when I start thinking outside the box. Boredom is something I dreaded as a kid, but now as a full time artist, I’ve recognized boredom is kind of a gift to creativity. Down time is when my creative brain really starts firing and I begin thinking things like “I wonder how I can do THAT” or “What would happen if I tried THIS?” There’s only one way to find out (and then boredom ends, having done it’s job).

Over the years, I've primarily focused on landscapes, but I've had time to develop some really interesting directions as far as abstract pieces go. Ideally, I would like to have a better balance between the two styles (landscapes / abstracts) because they require such a different creative approach, and that keeps life interesting!

And, in addition to working on paintings for my studio in Asheville, I'm also creating several new landscape pieces for Mountain Nest Gallery in Black Mountain, NC and several new abstracts for Revealed Gallery in Charleston, SC. I’m so grateful for how these galleries have exposed more people to my work than otherwise possible with my studio in Asheville.

Oh, also (on a more business note)…I’ve begun to offer payment plans for people who want to purchase my work. Here’s how it works…If you purchase a completed piece or commission a custom piece from me, you can take up to nine months to pay for it at no interest. When the last payment is made, I ship the painting to you (and...shipping costs are on me).  

So, 2024 is shaping out to be a really fun (and hopefully) challenging year, as I continue to develop this technique of mine and see where it goes and what it becomes, and that is incredibly exciting for me. 

Question 8: "Do you advertise?"

In my blog list of twelve questions I would suggest an aspiring full time artist ask an already full time artist, we have come to the question of advertising…”Do you advertise? If so, what seems to have worked well for you and what hasn't? What percent of your budget goes to advertising?”

The issue of an artist advertising is so tricky. Here is why…The only way you’ll sell your work is for people to see it, right? How will “Joe Public” see your work and then (maybe) buy your painting? Maybe he’ll scroll through Popular Mechanics magazine and see your ad, and voila! A big sale. Well that was easy.

Except it doesn’t work that way. How many people looking through Popular Mechanics are interested in the latest mechanical gizmos AND maybe fine art. I’m not saying those people aren’t out there, I’m just suggesting that you have to determine who your clients are out there (your demographic) and figure out how to reach them.

“Who is your demographic?”

When I was brand new to the professional artist career, I advertised in local art magazines. It cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars and here’s the thing…No one EVER came into my studio and said, “Oh, I saw your ad in ______ magazine and I just HAD to come and see your artwork for myself.” That literally never happened and SO, I never ever had any clue at all whether or not my career was positively affected by advertising. All I can say is that I’m selling more artwork now (I basically don’t advertise now) than I was back in the day when I felt like my career might crumble if I didn’t advertise.

Ahhhh, so the sage advice is this: DON’T ADVERTISE, right? Wrong. See, because I am part of a collective of hundreds of artists in Asheville, we (as a group) advertise in local magazines around the country in locations where a lot of Asheville tourists are coming from. My dues to the River Arts District Artists goes to help fund that advertising. So the advertising I’m doing doesn’t just affect me, it affects the district. But if people who visit Asheville want to make sure they check out the River Arts District, then I stand to benefit. I do have a listing on an Asheville tourism website (RomanticAsheville.com) but that’s it.

So it’s not that I’m such an awesome artist that I don’t have to advertise. I happen to be a part of an awesome group of artists in an awesome tourist oriented town and WE do the advertising together. That’s one of the very biggest perks of being an artist here, but I would think that same model could be adopted anywhere artists are. If you live in Cincinnati, find the other artists around you and advertise together. It works for us here in Asheville, and although we like to think we are so unique, I doubt that’s the case. We’re just running with a good idea and that same idea could work anywhere I’d think.

The other thing I would totally stay away from is the seemingly kind offers you get from people to display your work in their office space or restaurant. Here’s how that usually goes: “Hey, I have a great opportunity for you Steve! I’m opening a brand new upscale Italian restaurant in town and we would LOVE to display your work there on our walls, free of cost to you, and you can put price tags on all your work so you can sell your work from the restaurant. Think of the exposure!”

Don’t do it.

My experience with this is that if your artwork is simply decor on the wall of a restaurant, coffee shop, dentists office or office space, people don’t notice it at all. Look, when you go out to eat, have you ever asked the waiter, “Hey, I really love this potted ficus you have over here. How much is it??” You have never asked that question, have you? Be honest. No, of course not. You probably didn’t even notice the ficus in the corner because…you were there to eat food. Plain and simple. This way to “get your work out there” is a really nice way to give the restaurant owner free decor for their walls. Suggest he BUY the artwork from you and see what he says. Or tell the owner that you have a cousin who is getting married next month and you would like to suggest that he (the restaurant owner) cater it for free. “I mean, we can put your cards around on all the tables so everyone will know where that amazing food came from! Think of the exposure you’d get!”

That doesn’t work for any other profession, don’t let it happen to you.

Concluding this post, it might be good to remind you that I’d encourage any questions relating to whether to advertise and how/where to do it. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll help you find someone who does.

Question 7: "How do you price your work?"

I am currently in a blog series proposing questions an aspiring full time professional artist ask a current full time professional artist so that they have a better idea of getting from where they are to where they want to be professionally. It’s a really tricky and sometimes difficult thing to make it as an artist. That’s the bad news. The good news is that there are people out there somehow actually doing it, so…don’t reinvent the wheel — TALK to them. Every artist I know personally would be very happy answering questions. So find the artist you’d like to grill, make and appointment and get some advice.

Among the questions I’m proposing is this one I’ve been asked a lot: “How do you price your work?” If you’ve read my blog here, you know I’ve talked about this a lot, so I won’t wax on too long here but some points need to be repeated.

Just last week, I was approached by a gentleman that offered me just over 20% less than my posted price on one of my paintings. This doesn’t bother me at all when people do that. I know a lot of artists set a price for a piece of their work and hope they can get as close to that price as possible. This has trained people to view an art purchase the same way they’d buy a car or a house (i.e. you make a low ball offer, then negotiate). But that means the posted price means nothing and is just there to start the conversation. That is not the way I price my artwork because it feels really arbitrary.

The way I was taught to price my work way back in the day is to let sales themselves dictate the pricing. I price according to the size. So I take the square inches of the work, multiply it by my going rate (and that rate is solely dictated by my sales).

My goal is to sell my work as quickly as I paint it. If I get a big backlog, I know my prices are too high. If my work sells too quickly (I can't have empty studio walls), then my prices are too low. This year, I needed to slow down sales (just slightly) in early spring so I bumped up the price per square inch just slightly. That slowed sales down a bit, but I've actually had to raise prices again in June because they were still selling too quickly.

So that's how I price my work. I don't really take offers because I have a very good idea of what the paintings will sell for. Again, different artists handle pricing different ways, so it’s definitely worth asking around and seeing what works best for you. This works best for me because it’s really easy to defend the prices I have posted when that price is actually based on something concrete like sales rather than something arbitrary like “this is what I’d like to get for this piece”. As a client, I can disagree with what you’d like to get for that piece, but…I can’t disagree with sales.

Question 6: "What are the positive points and negative points about having an 'open studio'?"

For someone looking make a living by selling the artwork they create, this is really a very important question to explore. It’s important to note that not all artists are cool with the idea of an “open studio”. I happen to absolutely love the idea because I absolutely love selling my paintings and if I my studio door isn’t open, no one will see them and if no one sees them, no one will buy them. Let me give some background information that might be helpful to anyone considering having art sales as their full time career.

For years, I created paintings. I couldn’t help myself. I have been an artist since I was a kid and I love painting. The thing is, you can’t just graduate art school and then send out your resume to someone that’s posted an ad on craigslist: “Wanted: Artist to create paintings. Salary commensurate to their experience. Benefits included.” That is uh…NOT how it’s done. The question of HOW to get your paintings in front of potential buyers is the question every artist out there is asking. I have found that the best answer to that question is to adopt an “open studio” model and to definitely find other artists willing to do the same thing in the same part of town you’re in.

Years ago, a metal sculptor opened a studio in a run down part of Asheville (i.e. the low rent district). Over time, more artists opened studios nearby. Once a year, they’d all open their studios to the public and they soon discovered that there was a huge public interest in not only seeing the artwork, but in meeting the artist and watching them work. Somewhere along the line, as more and more artists also opened studios nearby, they began to adopt a full-time “open studio” model. In other words, if you were visiting Asheville, you could run down to the low rent district practically any day of the year and wander into a studio, watch the artist weld, blow glass, paint, etc. and buy direct from the creator. Then they renamed the area of town “River Arts District” (because it sounded so much better than “low rent district”). Eventually, over 220 artists created studios in the district and they’ve pooled their funds for national advertising to promote the district as a tourist destination.

It worked.

Because I have a studio in Asheville, I don’t have to do the art show circuit. I don’t have time to. People from literally all over the country (and the world) explore the River Arts District in Asheville. Because of that, I have paintings hanging in homes and businesses in most of the states of the US and in England, Ireland, China and India. It’s kind of crazy.

“Because I have a studio in Asheville, I don’t have to do the art show circuit.”

So that’s the upside. The downside is that you have to be there with your door open. But to me, that’s a small price to pay for being able so easily to actually make a living doing what I’d do for free anyway! I mean, nearly everyone else I know has a job that requires them to be in an office or store or factory or whatever. Even if you telecommute and work from home, you have to actually be committed to the task your profession requires of you, so it’s really no big deal to adopt an “open studio” model and commit to being there. And especially now, I have three other artists in my studio space and they cover days I’m not in. That makes it a whole lot easier when it comes to days off or time to travel.

But the other downside (not for me, but for some) might be that if an artist has an open studio, people will watch you create what you’re doing and will be asking you questions through the whole process. If that sounds like hell to you as an artist, this is NOT the business model you should adopt. I happen to love it because I actually get to know the people who purchase my work.

So bottom line is, it depends on your personality — whether you’re okay being around people or whether you need solitude. Personally, I’ve found it’s much more “balancing” to be around people (and this is coming from an introvert), but…that’s just me. Everyone is different. But if you’re okay with people, and you can find other artists who would consider opening studios with or very nearby you…I think an open studio is absolutely the best way to actually sell your work.

I have so much more to say on this but this posting is probably long enough. If you’re interested in more information though, just post it below, and/or email me at stclaireart@gmail.com. If you’re an artist trying to make a living selling your art, I am happy to help any way I can.

Question 5: "Would you mind critiquing my work at some point?"

Of all the questions I would suggest an aspiring artist ask a professional artist, this is probably the most important and the most risky. Don’t get me wrong, a professional artist probably wouldn’t mind at all offering advice, but unless you are really humbly asking for honest advice, all you’ll most likely get is “Oh, now that’s really nice. Very nice”.

Nice.

“Nice” does not help. You need someone to really critique it. Okay, it’s nice but…how can it be improved? This kind of advice is difficult to give someone if they don’t really seem like they’re open to suggestions and when that’s the case, it makes me really sad. I’m sad, not because my opinion isn’t valued but because they are not going to improve as an artist unless they listen to critique. I’ve been doing art all my life but still, nearly every painting goes through the gauntlet of my wife Joys’ critique. Often, I’ll really like something I’m working on and when I ask her what she thinks, (what I’m really asking is “how much do you absolutely love this?”) and she looks at it and says, “it doesn’t grab me”.

Instant deflation. And that’s a very good thing.

Then, as she tells me what she sees, and IF I’m listening, I begin to comprehend how what I perceive as perfection can even be made better, and THAT is a very good thing. When I listen to criticism, my work is much more likely to sell faster, and since this is my job, I want to sell me artwork as quickly as possible.

“how much do you absolutely love this?”

The unfortunate thing I’ve found is that many artists never think of asking for critique. I always interpret that not as “they’re too good for critique” or “they don’t care what people think of their work”, but clearly as “I’m too fragile to be criticized”, and this means that they care way TOO much about what other people think of their work. So my advice is to ask for criticism and to listen humbly. Your personhood, your right to breath this air is not what is in question. Nothing is at stake except this painting, and you want to make is as close to perfection as possible, right? So get help. Because no one individual has the corner on perfection, it can already be assumed an artist will make mistakes and will need advice. We’re just like everyone else. I hope I’m making this clear. If we use our talents and abilities to prop up our self image, then we’re USING those abilities as a means to an end, rather than simply enjoying those abilities as an end in and of themselves.

So risk it all. Take a deep breath and just ask. “What do you honestly think of this?”

Question 2: "How long have you been selling your work professionally?"

When you're training to be an artist, whether that's informal training (on your own or as part of a group) or more formal training (i.e. art school), there are things you need to find out in order to best plan your route from Point A (art as a hobby) to Point B (art as a career). I've come up with twelve questions to start with. There are probably many more questions but these are a few I thought of that are meant to at least get you going in the right direction. 

If you've been reading these posts, you know I've answered the first of twelve questions in my last post. Here, we tackle question 2: "How long have you been selling your work professionally?"

The answer to this question can be stuck in the same mental box as the answer to the first question. The answer to the first question I proposed will give you an idea of how long this person has been doing art. The answer to this second question will tell you how long they've been SELLING art. Both questions are background questions. They are meant to orient you as the interviewer to the artist you're speaking to so you know how to weigh what they will share as they answer the rest of the questions. I don't mean this as a rude or "judgemental" exercise. I just mean that if someone has been marketing and selling their work for years, they will probably know more about how to market and sell artwork than someone doing it for eight months. Again, this is just to give you a way to know which answers (when you get conflicting answers from different artists) should be given more weight. That's all. 

“…if I was depending entirely on the income from selling my paintings in galleries, I’d be a starving artist”

Personally, I've been selling my artwork for about 25 years now. I started selling in a gallery in Orlando, Florida (where I was living at the time) and it was a heady thing realizing people would actually part with their money in order to purchase one of my paintings. It was awesome. In the beginning, my questions were all about how to get into another gallery. I'll talk more about that later, but I've learned that if I was depending entirely on the income I get from selling my paintings in galleries, I'd be a starving artist. Galleries are helpful because they give you "vacation money" (extra funds you can just look at as fun money) but there are other outlets to tap into for more of a steady income stream. Again, more on that in answer to a later question. For now, just know that getting into a gallery was where I started, and the day I was told they wanted to represent me at the gallery was truly an amazing and exciting day. That's a good start but...it was not the end. More on that to come.