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.

"What is it like being an artist these days?"

“Le Canal du Midi”

This week, I was talking to some studio visitors and they wanted to know a bit about my background and how I came up with my technique. I’m used to questions like that, but then they asked about what it’s like being an artist today. And I thought that was a really good question. Pre-COVID (remember those days??) that would have been a relatively easy question to answer. Being an artist is fun! I can (and have) done other jobs. This art thing is not a “job”. This is life. Painting for me is “life-giving”and I absolutely love it. Having a studio in Asheville, North Carolina where I can share my artwork with literally thousands of visitors every year is amazing. What an awesome privilege. How many artists around the country would love the chance to create their art within such an awesome community of artists here in Asheville? Pre-COVID, that would basically have been my answer.

Now, two years into the pandemic and feeling fairly hopeful about all that, my answer honestly is more contemplative and sober. These days, with wars and political discord and cultural polarization, I honestly have gone through weeks feeling really superfluous being an artist. I mean honestly, when the economy is tanking and all the headlines are depressing, it’s really easy to feel like what I do is unimportant and not really “necessary” to anyone but me.

But even during the darkest days of COVID and during this economically “uncertain” time, I make sales. I don’t understand, but I am still making sales and breaking my own records. I am confused and absolutely full of thankfulness. My clients are so, so encouraging and especially during the last couple years, I’ve really received that encouragement with a sense of thankfulness and awe. One 2021 client in Oklahoma said “especially now, I need artwork on my walls that makes me feel what your painting makes me feel. They take me somewhere else. Thank you!”

“I am confused and absolutely full of thankfulness…”

This is so encouraging and really humbling. I am feeling now like I need to take every painting, every creative project really seriously. This work I do isn’t just to create something that looks nice on a wall. What I want to do is to affect people. During times of uncertainty, grief, fear, frustration and anger…if I can, I’d like to create something that brings a sense of peace; something that will inspire imagination and curiosity in the viewer. I want to create something that will “take them away” to a peaceful place if only for a few minutes. If ALL of us did that, this world would be an awesome place to call home.

I can’t change the world for everyone. But if everyone changed the world for one person, that would really be something. I try to do that with the only thing I know how to do well…art. What do you enjoy doing? How could you use that to encourage the life of one person this week? You up for that? If so, I’d love to know any details you’d like to share. I think this planet, these people (broken though we are) are really worth investing in. THAT is why I do art now.

"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.

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.

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”.

“Are You Self Taught?”

I was asked the question the other day, “Are you ‘self taught’ or did you get training somewhere?” I’m actually asked that question a fair amount, so I figured I’d answer here: Yes and Yes. That’s my answer. Just as a rule of thumb, I think it’s a very good thing to get trained in a craft or skill by someone who knows that craft or skill better than you. That’s probably true of most things. The concept of being mentored, trained, even parented…that’s generally just how things work best in my opinion.

For artists though, there seems to be a personality type that wears that “self taught” label like a badge, and I think often times, that’s just because they are arrogant. Sometimes, I think that badge is code for “I figured this all out by myself”, “I don’t need anyone teaching me to do this better”, “I am above input from others”. Maybe. I have to grant the possibility that there really are geniuses out there who need no help or shaping by others. I don’t think there are many people like that though.

What I’m not saying is that if you want to be a professional artist, you should just find an art school and enroll. Not all art schools are created equal. Some schools are excellent, teaching technique and the rules of art. And once you know the rules, over time, you learn how and when to break them. But honestly, some art schools could be compared to a driving school that takes your sixteen year old and sticks them behind the wheel and just says, “okay, drive. There is no ‘right or wrong’ way to drive, just proceed as the spirit leads you.” Imagine the catastrophe.

“No one sees a strong foundation, but the higher you would like to build a structure, the more important a foundation is."

So, learning the rules and techniques are just wise, and can save a lot of time and frustration. “But” you say, “art schools are crazy expensive!” Yep. But there are lots of ways to get the cost down. I won’t take the time here to go down that rabbit hole, but feel free to email me if you’d like input there. The other option would be to find an artist whose work you admire and ask them to mentor you. That’s how they did it “back in the day”. Really, you just need someone to teach you the rules, and then give you input on your work. This takes a good deal of humility, but unless we really think that what we do and create is above critique, that critique is absolutely invaluable. I still get some folks visiting the studio who think it’s their God given assignment to critique my work. And sometimes, I gain something awesome by listening (not all the time, but sometimes).

I went to Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California. That was an awesome experience. What those four years gave me was akin to a foundation. No one sees a strong foundation, but the higher you would like to build a structure, the more important a foundation is. Since college, I’ve invented my own technique. No one taught me that technique. I made it up all by myself, which is very gratifying and it’s awesome when you invent a technique because no one can say you’re doing it wrong. :) Well, sales or lack thereof tell you if you’re doing it right or wrong. I’m constantly playing and experimenting now…”self teaching”. But that’s all based on the foundation of color theory, composition and basic painting/drawing skills I learned in classes.

So, those are some thoughts from me. What are some thoughts from YOU? I’d love to hear what you think (especially if you’re an artist!)

"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.