Getting Inspired

The Laurel River (near Hot Springs, NC)

Breathing in the Beauty

I mentioned in my last entry that as an artist, one of the best ways to get ideas for a landscape oil painting is to explore the various trails through the woods and mountains of western North Carolina. Last weekend, my wife Joy and I did just such exploring along a beautiful trail alongside a rock-strewn river near Hot Springs, NC. So I scurried out onto the rocks and took several photos. So what to do next? 

Some time in the next several days, I'll choose the best photo I took and sketch out a landscape composition onto my canvas. Next, I'll build up the composition with texture (usually I use modeling compound the Gesso) so that the composition is actually raised off the canvas -- built up and dimensional. After the texture is applied (the trees, mountains, river -- whatever I am depicting) I will cover all the texture with aluminum leaf and then (finally), the painting is ready for actual paint! Many thin layers of oil paint are applied and then I finish the piece with either several coats of UV resistant resin or a satin varnish. 

The result is an oil painting that is back-lit (using reflected light from the aluminum). This creates depth and intense color. This is what makes wall art a real statement piece (no matter the size).

This is the fun of creating a genre -- of contemporary art itself: doing something new and cutting edge, experimenting and playing (and making mistakes).

That's the fun of being an artist. 

"Oh could the muse on this auspicious day
Begin a song of more majestic sound,
Or touch the lyre on some sublimer key,
Meet entertainment for the noble mind.

"How shall the muse from this poetic bow'r
So long remov'd, and from this happy hill,
Where ev'ry grace and ev'ry virtue dwells,
And where the springs of knowledge and of thought
In riv'lets clear and gushing streams flow down
Attempt a strain? How sing in rapture high
Or touch in vari'd melody the lyre
The lyre so long neglected and each strain
Unmeditated, and long since forgot?
But yet constrain'd on this occasion sweet
To this fam'd hall and this assembly fair
With comely presence honouring the day,
She fain would pay a tributary strain.

"A purer strain though not of equal praise
To that which Fingal heard when Ossian sung
With voice high rais'd in Selma hall of shells;
Or that which Pindar on th' Elean plain,
Sang with immortal skill and voice divine,
When native Thebes and ev'ry Grecian state
Pour'd forth her sons in rapid chariot race,
To shun the goal and reach the glorious palm.

"He sang the pride of some ambitious chief,
For olive crowns and wreaths of glory won;
I sing the rise of that all glorious light,
Whose sacred dawn the aged fathers saw
By faith's clear eye, through many a cloud obscure
And heavy mist between: they saw it beam
From Judah's royal tribe, they saw it shine
O'er Judah's happy land, and bade the hills,
The rocky hills and barren vallies smile,
The desert blossom and the wilds rejoice.

Hugh Henry Brackenridge

Inspiration for a painting...

How does a painting begin?

As an artist, I’m often asked how I begin an oil painting. For me, the answer is simple: I go hiking (see some of my favorite Asheville hiking trails). The Blue Ridge mountains are beautiful and full of inspiration to me. There are literally hundreds of trails criss-crossing the woods through the mountains. One of the really great things about living in Asheville (in Western North Carolina) is it’s proximity to some really beautiful natural wilderness. 

There are two types of trails I enjoy — the trails that just meander through the forest and the trails that are “destination” trails. The later end in an amazing vista or waterfall (we have countless waterfalls in the Blue Ridge. So we done our hiking boots and get out of town (usually just 20 minutes will do it) find the “trail of the day” and set out. The trick is to go slow and soak in the details. What I’m really looking for are the surprising moments of unbelievable beauty, when you come around a corner and around a tree and you have to stop, and something hits you: “this place feels different, spiritual, holy”. Maybe it’s the quality of light or the type of trees or the way the trail winds through the woods — I don’t know WHY some places feel special, I just know when I come across one of them. That’s when I take out a sketchbook or my camera and record the place. 

Usually, the mountains of Western North Carolina are very kind to me — I walk away after most hikes with some awesome ideas for a future piece of art, and those ideas give birth to a painting. Hopefully, it will end up being artwork that will not only create pleasure in the viewer — I really want to inspire the viewer. 

This is a day of happiness, sweet peace, 

And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd 

In full assembly fair, once more we view, 

And hail with voice expressive of the heart, 

Patrons and sons of this illustrious hall.

This hall more worthy of its rising fame 

Than hall on mountain or romantic hill, 

Where Druid bards sang to the hero's praise, 

While round their woods and barren heaths was heard 

The shrill calm echo of th' enchanting shell.

Than all those halls and lordly palaces 

Where in the days of chivalry, each knight, 

And baron brave in military pride 

Shone in the brass and burning steel of war; 

For in this hall more worthy of a strain 

No envious sound forbidding peace is heard, 

Fierce song of battle kindling martial rage 

And desp'rate purpose in heroic minds: 

But sacred truth fair science and each grace 

Of virtue born; health, elegance and ease 

And temp'rate mirth in social intercourse 

Convey rich pleasure to the mind; and oft 

The sacred muse in heaven-breathing song 

Doth wrap the soul in extasy divine, 

Inspiring joy and sentiment which not 

The tale of war or song of Druids gave.

The song of Druids or the tale of war 

With martial vigour every breast inspir'd, 

With valour fierce and love of deathless fame; 

But here a rich and splendid throng conven'd 

From many a distant city and fair town, 

Or rural seat by shore or mountain-stream, 

Breathe joy and blessing to the human race, 

Give countenance to arts themselves have known, 

Inspire the love of heights themselves have reach'd, 

Of noble science to enlarge the mind, 

Of truth and virtue to adorn the soul, 

And make the human nature grow divine.

—by Hugh Henry Brackenridge

Understanding Abstract Art

"Phi" 

Are you one of the people who "get" abstract art or do you need a little help? Well, if you need help, don't feel bad. You are not alone. I have felt your pain. Landscape painting is easy enough to understand. A large rendition of a mountain landscape can be an awesome statement piece. But not all wall art is so easy to understand is it?

So if you need help with abstracts, I'd like to share a brilliant article from the Huffington Post written by Priscilla Frank entitled:

"Your Definitive Guide To Reading A Piece Of Abstract Art"

"Abstract art can be a doozy. We’d be lying if we said we’ve never approached a daunting canvas buzzing with indiscernible colors, shapes and stripes and, on the verge of a panic attack, grasped for the nearest museum guide. It’s hard to shake the nagging desire to solve the puzzle at hand, parse through the images and figure out what it all means. But, in our hearts, we know abstract art is no Sunday morning crossword puzzle, and should not be treated as such. On that note, we’re diving in.

"Abstract art is a beast all its own, and as such requires our utmost attention, patience and imagination. “Abstraction is staggeringly radical, circumvents language, and sidesteps naming or mere description,” Jerry Saltz writes in his wonderful manifesto on abstraction. “It disenchants, re-enchants, detoxifies, destabilizes, resists closure, slows perception, and increases our grasp of the world.” And so it may, but how do we actually engage with it?

"We’re taking it slow and attempting to navigate the perilous waters of abstract art one step at a time. Consider this a beginner’s guide to a lifelong relationship between, you, art, and your spirit guide Jerry Saltz. Here are nine things to consider next time you approach a seemingly impenetrable work of abstract art.

There’s no code to crack.

"As human beings, we take pleasure in solving problems. While this is useful in many aspects of life, the realm of abstract art is not one of them. Take a deep breath and let go of the desire to align every brushstroke to a symbolic meaning, every color to an aspect of the artist’s biography. While “getting” an artwork brings a momentary feeling of victory, bathing in its mystery brings enjoyment for far longer.

Don’t look at the clock.

"How long should you take to digest and fully experience a work of art? While the average time spent in front a museum artwork is around 30 seconds, truly taking in an artwork can take years. (Remember when Saltz said abstraction slowed perception?) Kitty Scott, director of visual arts at the Banff Centre, likened learning an artist’s visual language to learning a new written one. “Over the years, you may see 20 works, and then you start to understand their language and what their subject is,“ she explained.

Don’t talk about your five-year-old.

"You know, and have likely felt the urge to recite, the old “my five-year-old could do that.” And yes, sometimes it’s hard to reckon how a white canvas can sit in the MoMA and not in the “before” pile of an artist’s studio. One artist whose work is often looped into this category of the “childhish” is Cy Twombly, whose loopy scribbles often resemble youthful nonsense. But this passage by Roland Barthes may change your mind:

“It is not childish in form, for the child applies himself, presses down, rounds off, sticks out his tongue in his efforts, the child works hard to join the code of grown-ups. [Twombly] draw away from it, loosens, lags behind, his hand seems to levitate — as if the word had been written with his fingertips, not out of disgust or boredom but out of a kind of caprice open to the memory of a defunct culture which has left no more than the trace of a few words.”

"Now, could your child do that?

Don’t think of a picture, think of a thing.

"When we look at a picture, there are certain questions that immediately come to mind. The simplest being, What is it a picture of? When you shift gears a little, you’re free to open your mind up to the many questions that could make their way into your brain. What is this thing? What is it made of? What’s its speed? Its texture? Is it peaceful or cacophonous, heavy or light, open or closed? These questions, unlike the first, have no definitive answers, but may help you locate a starting point from which to navigate the artistic world before you.

"One easy place to start is color. As Wassily Kandinsky, one of the first abstract artists, wrote: “Color is a power which directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand which plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul.” Perhaps start there. What colors do you see, hear and feel?

Ditch the questions completely.

"If asking questions feels too much like a cross examination, focus on affirmative statements instead. It may sound cliche to think about how the painting makes you feel, but the sentiment isn’t actually too far off. After all, abstract artist Agnes Martin did say “Abstract art is the concrete representation of our most subtle feelings.“

"In his book “Pictures and Tears“ James Elkins perused a guest book at the permanent display at the Rothko Chapel. From reading the visitor comments, one would expect the viewers had just witnessed a supernatural event or a religious epiphany rather than sat before an artwork. Comments ranged from “This makes me fall down,” to “The silence pierces deeply, to the heart. Once more I am moved — to tears.” Sometimes asking questions only proves to be a distraction.

That being said, don’t stress about getting emotional.

"We know few things are more frustrating than watching a fellow museum-goer weep uncontrollably in front of an artwork you think is just okay. You don’t have to love or even like every piece. Don’t be afraid to move on and find one that speaks to you.

Read the wall text.

"Here’s the part where you get a clue, if you’re so inclined. While the title will not, and should not, explain the piece, it could illuminate an aspect of it or an angle from which to view it you hadn’t noticed before. Let the work’s verbal and visual components bounce off each other, and harmonize. You may not get closer to understanding, you may even wind up more confused. It’s all part of the process. Also, you could wind up with an untitled piece.

"Along with the work’s title, knowing the era and geographical origin of the artwork will also help acclimate you to the atmosphere from which the piece emerged. To again quote Kandinsky, art and literature reflect “the dark picture of the present time and show the importance of what at first was only a little point of light noticed by few and for the great majority non-existent. Perhaps they even grow dark in their turn, but on the other hand they turn away from the soulless life of the present towards those substances and ideas which give free scope to the non-material strivings of the soul.”

"What would a work like this say about the world from which it came? The essence may be so radical it couldn’t yet be put into words.

Remember, some artists don’t even know, or care, what their work means.

"This is the part where you take a deep breath and fully accept the fact that you’re working outside the realm of answers and explanations. Even the artists themselves sometimes don’t dwell over why they’re making what they’re making. In a talk at MoMA, famed abstractionist Ellsworth Kelly was asked about his iconic “Chatham Series,” which dates back to 1972. “It’s hard to remember. I’m quite impressed with them now!“ He said, gesturing to the works and sighing. “But it’s always a mystery looking back.” If Ellsworth himself is content to marvel at the mystery of his own works, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be also.

Think about the fact that all art is really abstract art. And let your mind be blown.

"There’s an old art lovers’ tale about an American soldier telling Picasso his artworks aren’t close enough to life. He pulls out a photo of his fiancee and says: “This is what a picture should look like.“ Picasso, in typical Picasso fashion, responds: “Your girlfriend is rather small, isn’t she?” Point being, all art is abstracted from reality, or else museums would take up a lot more space.

"Whether this assuages your anxiety or throws you into a downward spiral of panic is up to you. To again quote Jerry’s infinite wisdom: “Abstraction is as old as we are. It has existed for millennia outside the West. It is present on cave walls, in Egyptian and Cypriot Greek art, Chinese scholar rocks, all Islamic and Jewish art — both of which forbid representation. Abstraction is only new in the West.” Abstraction was around way before your pretentious art school friend showed you his dot experiments and expected you to be impressed.

"This is where our brief foray into the wonders of abstraction comes to a close. While this short list may not help you understand your next trip to your local modern art museum, it may alleviate some of the pressure to understand it in the first place.

Chi

"Chi" (18" x 36")

Beginning an abstract art piece, is very different than beginning a landscape art piece in that I never, ever know what it will look like when complete. But I am learning that an abstract art painting will "tell me" when it's done. It's really great therapy -- divorcing ones mind from forced structure and let the structure of the painting form alongside the randomness of it. The place a landscape painting comes from is concrete most of the time: a picture either in my head or from a photo, usually of a western North Carolina or Asheville scene. But an abstract art piece comes from inside.

There is a short essay by Rainer Rilke I'd like to share. It's beautiful, and though written originally with the writing of prose or poetry, it applies so well to creating any art, and definitely applies to creating abstract art...

“Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.

This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose...

...Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty - describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and no poor, indifferent place. And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world’s sounds – wouldn’t you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attentions to it. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. - And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor will you try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.”
  

Process: Rocky Mountain Commission

I love working large. Large artwork is commanding. Whether it’s intended as entrance art to grab you as soon as you enter a house or just a large wall piece, a sizable painting is artwork on a grand scale. I am currently working on a large commissioned art project for some nice folks in Austin, TX. The composition is triptych, and is based on a scene of the Rocky mountains -- mountains and birch trees reflecting in a lake. I just finished applying the metallic leaf to the textured surfaces of the panels yesterday and I was ready to go home -- turned off the lights and went to the back of the studio to get my keys, and when I turned around, I saw the panels reflecting back the late afternoon sunlight and I had to get a photo. Sorry. I get excited about stuff like this. One day, I'll have to just do a painting with no paint at all -- just metal covered with resin. I think that would be cool. Anyway, this one is ready for paint now, and by the end of the day, I'll have that first layer of paint applied. 

Sometimes, when I get into a piece, it's cool to explore the background story. This scene from Glacier National Park required just a bit of research so that I'm not just painting a painting, but I'm depicting a place. I want to capture the "spirit" of that place. Throughout time, people have sought out Glacier National Park's rugged peaks, clear waters, and glacial-carved valleys; its landscape giving both desired resources and inspiration to those persistent enough to venture through it. Evidence of human use in this area dates back to over 10,000 years. By the time the first European explorers came into this region, several different tribes inhabited the area. The Blackfeet Indians controlled the vast prairies east of the mountains, while the Salish and Kootenai Indians lived in the western valleys, traveling over the mountains in search of game and to hunt the great herds of buffalo on the eastern plains.

The majority of early European explorers came to this area in search of beaver and other pelts. They were soon followed by miners and, eventually, settlers looking for land. By 1891, the completion of the Great Northern Railway sealed the area’s fate, allowing a greater number of people to enter into the heart of northwest Montana. Homesteaders settled in the valleys west of Marias Pass and soon small towns developed.

Around the turn of the century, people started to look at the land differently. For some, this place held more than minerals to mine or land to farm…they began to recognize that the area had a unique scenic beauty all to its own.

By the late 1800s, influential leaders like George Bird Grinnell, pushed for the creation of a national park. In 1910, Grinnell and others saw their efforts rewarded when President Taft signed the bill establishing Glacier as the country's 10th national park.

This painting has a way to go before completion, but I love the process: texture, aluminum leaf, paint and finish. More to come on this one...

"Summer Path Thru the Birch Trees"

Already Longing for Summer

Introducing...."Summer Path Thru the Birch Trees" (18" x 24") This was a revisiting of an older oil painting I did a couple years ago. This time, I went smaller and added more texture and trees. And rather than finished with a thick glossy coat of resin, I finished it with a softer, more subtle finish (satin varnish) which seals it all but still leaves all the texture visible. This composition reminds me of an awesome summer back when I was a young teenager. My brother had a best friend who had a family cabin and many, many acres of property on the north shore of Francois Lake in northern British Columbia, Canada. The deal was that he would spend a couple months there on the lake, and then we (my mom, dad and sister) would come visit for several days and pick him up. We meandered up the Pacific Coast Highway, visited my uncle on Bainbridge Island just off the coast from Seattle, crossed into Canada at Vancouver and drove north up the Fraser River Valley toward Francois Lake.

Francois Lake was a remote and awesome finger lake, very deep and very clear. The water was so pure that the locals had to ADD minerals to it so they could drink it and still get the minerals they needed to be healthy. Crazy. And the old farm (complete with rustic log house and cool old barns) was amazing. I'd never seen a place like it before. The old dirt roads and fields were mostly overgrown (it had been a while since it was a real working farm) but I clearly remember exploring along the road to the upper field, birch trees and wild flowers surrounding me everywhere. The sound of birch trees in the wind is unforgettable. 

Anyway, I can't paint a landscape featuring birch trees and not remember that spectacular summer holiday. We've since visited Canada many times (from coast to coast) and never tire of the spectacular beauty of that place.

"Daybreak"

Light in the Darkness

"Daybreak in the Pines" (22" x 14") Here's the latest oil painting to roll off the line -- and you'll notice it's NOT a winter scene. I'm dreaming of summer landscapes already. This does not bode well for my sanity over the next couple months but dreaming of and painting scenes reminiscent of places here in North Carolina I hike with my wife Joy over the summer months -- that helps take the edge of 8 degree lows. :p

"Daybreak in the Pines" (22" x 14")

The West Wind
by William Cullen Bryant

Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,
Whose branching pines rise dark and high,
And hear the breezes of the West
Among the threaded foliage sigh.

Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo?
Is not thy home among the flowers?
Do not the bright June roses blow,
To meet thy kiss at morning hours?

And lo! thy glorious realm outspread--
Yon stretching valleys, green and gay,
And yon free hilltops, o'er whose head
The loose white clouds are borne away.

And there the full broad river runs,
And many a fount wells fresh and sweet,
To cool thee when the mid-day suns
Have made thee faint beneath their heat.

Thou wind of joy, and youth, and love;
Spirit of the new wakened year!
The sun in his blue realm above
Smooths a bright path when thou art here.

In lawns the murmuring bee is heard,
The wooing ring-dove in the shade;
On thy soft breath, the new-fledged bird
Takes wing, half happy, half afraid.

Ah! thou art like our wayward race;--
When not a shade of pain or ill
Dims the bright smile of Nature's face,
Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still.

Revisiting a friend

Water and Light

"Morning on the Sound" (24" x 12"). When I create wall art, I sometimes start by experimenting with a brand new idea for the piece. Other times, I revisit an older idea I've already completed but look for ways to create a new oil painting that is both like and unlike the original (hey, Monet did that all the time). "Morning on the Sound" was such an effort. I did a painting similar to this composition awhile back and really enjoyed it -- but the scene depicted was of a coastline on a misty morning. This time, I wanted to go back to the same basic idea but...I've sent a strong east wind and blew the fog away.

"Morning on the Sound" (24" x 12")

The Trial Run

"Rainbow Falls" (18" x 24")

Waterfalls

I'm about ready now to apply aluminum leaf to my largest painting to date: Cullasaja Falls, and it occurred to me it would be a really good idea to practice on another waterfall so that I get this down. I don't want to "experiment" on this big one (it's just too large a statement piece to practice on and maybe mess up). So I chose one of my favorite waterfalls around here (about 45 minutes from my studio) and definitely one of the local landmarks. So I experimented on a much safer size (18" x 24") and I am REALLY happy with the way this one turned out and yep...I feel ready to tackle the big one now. 

Asheville Channel Interview

Asheville Channel Interview

Last week, and again yesterday, some really nice folks from the Asheville Channel came out to my studio for an interview (so I tried to sound like I was super interesting) and to take photos and video. So if you're interested in my work, or interested in practically anything to do with Asheville, check out the Asheville Channel: https://ashevillechannel.com/blog/st-claire-studio/. And...thanks Mario! You're team is awesome!