Sunrise, Sunset...

Recently, some visitors to my Asheville art studio commissioned a couple of paintings from me, one of which featured a sunrise over Driftwood Beach on Jekyll Island (just off the coast of Georgia) and the other is sunset through Spanish moss hanging on oak trees in Florida. I think probably no matter where you are in the world, this time of day is the best, but the intensity of the colors and the length of the shadows are awesomely amplified when the sun is rising or setting over a body of water.

I have always loved twilight or daybreak.  This time of day has be poetically referred to as the "time in between times".  It is then the fairies (or fireflies), dipping and rising in their hypnotic evening dance.

Up to this point in my painting career, most of the oil paintings that I work on "daytime" themed paintings. Honestly, the technique I use to paint has proven to be a rather difficult technique to use in portraying dawn or dusk. But over this past year, I've learned that if I work much slower and apply layers of paint in much thinner layers, applying just one color family at a time, I have much more control over what's going on with the color and light in the piece. The results are something that I've been really, really excited about. 

So...after finishing these two commissions, feeling rather confident in my new found abilities, I started four more sunset-themed paintings, this time featuring long distance views from the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Photos to come shortly! 

Crossing the Bar
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star, 
And one clear call for me! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar, 
When I put out to sea, 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 
Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell, 
And after that the dark! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell, 
When I embark; 

For through from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

My Creative Muse

I will never get over Claude Monet. He is my artistic hero and by far my favorite artist of all time. He was prolific (with over 2500 sketches and paintings that we know of) and he was an innovator, the father of French Impressionism. His style is all his own and even without his signature, we know precisely who the artist was. He was inspired by nature -- his garden pond at Giverny, sunset on haystacks in the field and rows of poplar trees along the Epte River. What he did for artists was to introduce us to the wild use of color and light. His paintings glow. Each one is a visual feast, leading the viewer to curiosity, exquisite joy and hushed stillness at the mastery of this artist. He was amazing.

Look at the above painting of the poplars. Have you ever seen blue trees? No, but it works here in this painting. The blue shadows he uses accentuate the warm red and orange and gold used to illustrate the sunlight. And that really is the color formula he teaches us -- warm colors and their complimentary cool color right up against each other simulates the play of light and shadow in the real world.

Here is another of my favorites. This second painting depicted above is the same subject matter as the top painting but handled differently. This is a much warmer piece but again, notice the trees -- blue shadows right up against warm gold-green in the background and directly beside bright orange in the upper foreground trees. I love this!

Monet is exactly the kind of artist I want to emulate. I don't live in rural France, but I too am inspired by the awesome nature so close at hand right here in Asheville and Western North Carolina. And being half artist, half mad scientist, my style is all my own and I want people to recognize my own art even before they see the signature. And painting on a metallic background, I too am playing with color and light. And my goal is to present a visual feast to the viewer, leading them to curiosity and exquisite joy. These are all what I aspire to.

So basically, I am just like Monet. Oh come on. Let me dream.

Getting Better Acquainted

A couple weeks ago, I received an email by a studio visitor that wanted to include me in their blog. Of course, I said yes because I love attention. :) Here is some of the questions he asked. (And by the way, if you have questions about my artwork or about art in general), feel free to email me. I'm very happy to answer questions or give art advice!

Q&A

Q. Your website mentions various you venturing into dialuminism around 2001. What made you want to start painting this way? 

A. About 17 years ago, I was at an outdoor street art festival in Mt. Dora, FL. At that event, there was an artist that had a booth filled with Greek Orthodox icons. These were legit. He was painting with hand-ground pigments and traditional gel mediums. They were amazing. I had never, ever seen the color of paint do what it was doing on top of 24c gold. It was incredibly rich and intense. After about an hour in the booth, I went home with an idea. I had to try painting on top of gold leaf (I had a couple scraps around) using the medium I was familiar with (oil paint) to see if it could possibly work. And it did. And then I realized I did not need gold to achieve the effect I wanted. Gold works because it is reflective. After a good deal of hunting around for a metallic leaf that would work, I found Italian aluminum leaf (the most pure aluminum leaf there is). That is what I paint on. And I do that because it reflects light back through my paint, creating a "backlit" oil painting. And I do that because when you back-light pigment (as in a stained glass window), you greatly intensify the color.

Q. What is your favorite piece that you've created? 

A. Whatever I happen to be working on at the moment. I'm serious. Every piece I do is my favorite one I've ever done as I'm working on it.

Q.  Who’s your biggest inspiration as an artist?

A. Makoto Fujimura. He is a Japanese-American artist who paints atop metallic leaf as well.

Q. What drew you to the River Arts District? Why Asheville? 

A. In Asheville, in the River Arts District (at least for right now), I can have a art studio that is open to the public six days a week, and because there is a unique community of over 200 artists within a square mile all of whom are basically doing the same thing, there is enough of a presence to attract people from all over the country (and other countries) to our square mile. And because of that, artists can actually make a living creating their art and selling direct to the client.  (Some art studios I recommend in the area.) 

Q.  Do you know of anyone else in the River Arts District who deserves some exposure?

A. Yes. Daniel McClendon (an awesome abstract wild-animal painter), Cindy Walton (one of my favorite cold wax painters) and Matt Tommey (he makes incredible baskets out of wild vines native to the WNC area).

Q. Is Joy also a painter?

A. Yes. Joy is a painter and awesome #1 assistant. She works on her own pieces (all the small work -- she says she doesn't have the patience for the larger pieces). And she assists me on various steps of my work when I'm slammed. A lot of the gold edges on my paintings have been applied by Joy and she's applied a good deal of the aluminum leaf faces I paint on. And she runs to Walmart and Michael's for art supply runs. I am deeply in debt. 

Q.  Any future developments worth mentioning? 

A.  Always. I'm real excited about a 12' long installation piece (on twelve panels) that I sent to the gallery in Oklahoma City that represents me (Kasum Contemporary Fine Art). I'm experimenting with a new idea (also for a large installation piece) featuring aluminum leaf and dichromic film on clear plex panels. This could be super cool because the color of the panels change depending on the angle you are when you see it. I mean, it changes from yellow to orange to blue as you walk around it. More to come on this.

Personal Thoughts

"How do you decide what to paint?"

A young couple was visiting my studio yesterday and had commented that each of my paintings made them feel quiet and peaceful inside, and that although they each depicted a different landscape, that the resulting emotional impact was the same. I told them that that was the greatest compliment someone could pay me. And then they asked how I decide what to paint. And after pausing for a few moments (because I'm not usually asked that question), I realized the answer to that was simple: I want to go back home to Eden. Please pardon my philosophical/spiritual answer, but the question itself turns out to be a philosophical/spiritual question. Eden is in my ultimate goal. I can't help but long for it and depict it in my imaginings. My faith tradition teaches me that I was made for a Garden...a place that is filled with beauty, peace and safety. A place where people can be completely vulnerable and unashamed. And I can't help it -- this is what I'm depicting with my imagination in every painting that comes off my easel. Quiet woods, mountains reflecting in a serene lake, early morning sunlight poking out of the shade canopy in the forest...each scene I paint depicts a place I want to sit (preferably by myself or with just one or two close companions) and be quite, absorbing beauty as a dry sponge absorbs the water. I was made for that. I think everyone was made for that. That is why I paint what I paint. (See my FAQs for more)

The Conundrum Of The Workshops
by Rudyard Kipling

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold, 
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould; 
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, 
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?" 

Wherefore he called to his wife, and fled to fashion his work anew -- 
The first of his race who cared a fig for the first, most dread review; 
And he left his lore to the use of his sons -- and that was a glorious gain
When the Devil chuckled "Is it Art?" in the ear of the branded Cain. 

They fought and they talked in the North and the South, 
they talked and they fought in the West, 
Till the waters rose on the pitiful land, and the poor Red Clay had rest -- 
Had rest till that dank blank-canvas dawn when the dove was preened to start, 
And the Devil bubbled below the keel: "It's human, but is it Art?" 

They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench the stars apart, 
Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks: "It's striking, but is it Art?" 
The stone was dropped at the quarry-side and the idle derrick swung, 
While each man talked of the aims of Art, and each in an alien tongue. 

The tale is as old as the Eden Tree -- and new as the new-cut tooth -- 
For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth; 
And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart, 
The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art?" 

We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice-peg, 
We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the yelk of an addled egg, 
We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart; 
But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old: "It's clever, but is it Art?" 

When the flicker of London sun falls faint on the Club-room's green and gold, 
The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch with their pens in the mould -- 
They scratch with their pens in the mould of their graves, 
and the ink and the anguish start, 
For the Devil mutters behind the leaves: "It's pretty, but is it Art?" 

Now, if we could win to the Eden Tree where the Four Great Rivers flow, 
And the Wreath of Eve is red on the turf as she left it long ago, 
And if we could come when the sentry slept and softly scurry through, 
By the favour of God we might know as much -- as our father Adam knew!

How I decide what to paint...

Today is Tuesday (my day off from painting).  By the way, if you're a visitor to Asheville and roaming around the River Arts District, looking for open art studios, never fear. My studio is open and being watched by Ruth Vann, a dear friend of Joy's and mine. So as I was saying, today is my day off and I thought I would spend some time on the computer hunting for photos that inspire me (I am constantly on the look-out for a photo or an idea that would lead to a compelling oil painting).

But...what makes a "compelling" oil painting? Glad you asked, but that's a tough question to answer!  When you go to Google images for instance and type in "compelling landscape photos", you get some very nice photography. But I can literally spend an hour looking at hundreds and hundreds of beautiful photos and not one of them would make a really great oil painting. Why is that?

One sticking point that causes most photos to be disregarded is that I'm looking for a subject matter (for the most part) that is either generic or is specific to Western North Carolina. That is because I have found it difficult to sell artwork that is obviously a scene from somewhere else in the country. About three years ago, I came up with what I thought was a really great idea:  to paint the iconic scenes from around the whole country. My thought was that people come into my art studio from all over the country so...why just stick to local North Carolina landscape scenes? Well, that year I had a blast painting Mt. Rainier, Yosemite Valley, the plains of Nebraska, the coast of Maine and the bayous of Louisiana. I loved it. This country is huge and so incredibly scenic. Great idea, huh?

Well no. I still have a few of those paintings left. I learned something that year though. Most of my paintings I sell in my studio are to people visiting Asheville, and they're looking for something to take home to remind them of their time in Western North Carolina (not a lighthouse on the coast of Maine). So now, that's the first thing I look for: something specific to North Carolina mountains and woods, or something generic (mountains, trees, lakes, rivers etc. that could be anywhere).

But then the second thing I look for in a photo I use for inspiring a painting is whether or not it "draws you in". That is what I am looking for and I'm not really sure what does that. Lighting? Colors? Contrast? All the above? Something else? Basically, I want each painting to speak to the viewer : "come home". That's it. It's that simple. Come home. We strive and work and stress-out and play and vacation so that we can re-create Eden. We really do. I don't care what religion you are, I think that's what we're all doing. We long for paradise and try hard to create. I can't create paradise, but I can let the viewer look at it. And I like that. I believe that hints at hope. This very easily turns into a philosophical and spiritual conversation, and I won't do that here but...that really does explain what I'm trying to do with my artwork and what I'm inspired by.

Musings of an artist...

I work in one art studio of many art studios in the River Arts District of Asheville, North Carolina. And I do most of my work right in front of my front door (the light is best there and, well, I like to greet people as they come in. And then, after being greeted, the questions start...How did you get interested in art? Why are you an artist? Why are you an oil painter? How did you get started doing this?

And because I have an open studio and work about four feet from the door, I get to talk with visitors all day long, every day. And I'm asked these questions constantly. And honestly, it's really funny. I mean, I would never go to a Christmas wine and cheese party and ask an accountant or dentist or history teacher or lawyer any of these questions. Maybe that's because I'm an introvert but still -- what is the big deal with being an artist? I mean, I do like the attention (okay, I said it). But still, what is this all about?  It's interesting and amusing and humbling all at the same time.

 It's interesting because, well, I was talking to an accountant just today and I am so thankful there are people like her that actually understand numbers! Seriously. I think THAT is mysterious and awesome. I'm just a painter. I play with oil paints all day long. I mostly paint mountain landscapes somewhat specific (but not entirely) to Western North Carolina. I do that (mostly) because I can, and (mostly) because it's fun. It's not at all mystical, it's just really, really fun. Making ledgers balance -- now that is mystical to me. If you're an accountant...thank you. I need you. God bless you.

It's amusing because people come in and see me busy painting and often (in whispers) "Oh, he's working!" This makes me laugh every time. "Yes. I am scooping up paint on this brush and rubbing it all over this canvas here..." But I never say that. I always say (because it's actually true), that this isn't work. This is joy. This is pleasure. And right now, this is my life and I am so, so thankful. But...it still makes me laugh inside when people say this.

And it's humbling because I'm no rock star. I think I'm rather awkward and can be kind of a geek (just ask me about ancient history and be amazed at my geekiness). But that's okay. How many people get paid for doing what they love to do? The answer to that question is why I'm truly humbled at the attention given artists.

And then, there was the visitor yesterday who , upon looking at the oil painting I was working on said, "Well, if I can be honest, I think you're wasting your time".  Ha ha. It takes all kinds.

"What makes this painting so sparkly?"

Questions, questions...

I'm asked by a lot of people why I paint local North Carolina landscapes (usually mountains, lakes, rivers and trees) on aluminum leaf, and I explain (at least daily) that it's because aluminum leaf reflects light. Painting on aluminum leaf, I can create a painting that is back-lit. This greatly intensifies the color.  How I came up with that is, well, the fault of a French architect in 1163.

When I was twenty years old, a friend of mine backpacked through Europe with me and during those travels (every American twenty year old should do this trip by the way) we found Paris, and the highlight was Notre-Dame Cathedral.

I was quite surprised to see how large the cathedral actually was. It is hulking and awesome.  Honestly, I didn’t know much about the Notre-Dame apart from the Hunchback that made the place famous.

One side of the cathedral was lined with cafes for people queuing up to go in the church. Interestingly, the chairs of the restaurants were almost all facing outside. I thought it was strange as I would probably prefer to face in towards whoever I was with. If I was alone, I would not face outside, I don’t like strangers in the queue watching me eat.

We got there during Mass ("hey, don't mind us Presbyterians --carry on, carry on"). It was magical. So utterly beautiful. And when Mass was done, I turned to leave and then I saw it: the rose window. Oh my gosh. I'd never seen color do what it was doing as the sun penetrated the colored glass. I remember thinking, "How can I get PAINT to do that?" At the time, this seemed like a ridiculous question because you paint on a canvas and how do you shine light through a canvas, right?

This idea went no where for many years until I saw the Orthodox church answer to stained glass windows: ICONS. Icons are painted on gold. P-A-I-N-T-E-D on gold. Well, I couldn't afford gold so I found aluminum leaf and a new genre of art was born, from a rose window in Paris and a Madonna and child on gold. You never know where a creative muse will lead you. You just follow it and see!

Appalachian Trail

The Appalachian Trail is the longest "hiking only" footpath in the world, and extends from Georgia to Maine. Some of our favorite places to hike in North Carolina cross-cross the AT here and there. This painting is from one of my favorite balds near the border of Tennessee.

Living as an artist in Western North Carolina, the Appalachian Trail is never far, and is always an inspiration for my oil paintings. I simply never run out of creative fodder! In thinking about this awesome trail, and the amazing adventures found upon it, the landscapes, the trees, the rivers and the mountains, it seemed like I needed a poem to really do it justice.  (See some of my favorite hikes in the area)

Endless Ranges

The month of February I will begin

a trek through woods as wide as the seas,

from the foothills of Georgia 

to rock altars in the mountains of Maine,

a pilgrimage of whole hearted discovery.

I shall walk on this Appalachian trail,

following the blazes of white,

beneath the wide open sky,

gazing north, always north 

across wide rivers, rocky ridges, and green meadows.

Twenty-two hundred miles it is,

twenty-two hundred miles to reach the end.

From this point on I now must find the will

to go onward every day until Autumn’s chill,

with the last days my youth has left to lend me.

And in these lonely months of walking,

when I’m lost amidst fog draped mountain peaks

timeless truths I hope to find as I am quiet and just listen --

to the whisper of branches, the gurgling of the stream,

the roaring wind -- listen for The Voice. He is here.

This trail I trek not because I’m bold or brave,

but from fear of that days when I've grown old,

I will with regret, I’ll only quietly sigh

because of the unlived life that has passed me.

This is an adventure is not one I can ignore.

While I do not know if I shall succeed,

I do ask the reader -- listen!

Live your one-time Life. Really live!

And should you find your path twine across my own,

Welcome home. 

A Trip to the Art Museum

Have you ever felt intimidation stepping into an art gallery? Have you been to a modern art museum and felt like a cultural moron, stuck wondering, “why is this oil painting even in here, and who decided this is art?” If your answer is ‘yes’ to either question, read on.

I’ve heard people say things like “with art, there are no mistakes. It’s all art” (and this assertion is ridiculous). You see, contrary to the opinion of those who esteem themselves as culturally elite postmoderns, art has rules. Don’t get me wrong…you can haphazardly throw paint on a canvas and it may be great therapy, but it’s not necessarily great art.

Think about it...

Consider, we don’t approach any other creative endeavor with the assumption that “there are no rules – there are no mistakes!” Can I record myself pounding on a piano and expect to go platinum? Can I string together 50 random words from Webster’s dictionary call that poetry? Can I close my eyes, dig through my refrigerator, pull out great gobs of mystery contents, whip up something special on the stove, and call that cooking? It may be special but not likely edible. And that’s because music has rules and poetry has rules and cooking has rules and if you break those rules you have a mess. It should be no surprise then that creating artwork is exactly the same way.

Rules can be our friends...

There are rules and it takes time and painstaking work to master these rules. But with mastery, they can form an incubator for truly great artwork. Let me be honest. I don’t think everything heralded as art is truly art. I think a great deal of confusion happens when we don’t make a distinction between “art” and “visual expression”. Visual expression does not have to conform to any rules at all. It can be shocking. It can be crude. It can be poorly executed. It doesn’t matter. Visual expression needs only to say something and make you think (e.g. graffiti spray painted on a wall to incite rebellion or express angst).  The confusion arises when visual expression winds up in art museums. Don’t let that intimidate or confuse you. It may be a powerful visual expression, and it may be valid. Please listen to it. Try to understand what it means. Maybe it is completely inane and nonsensical (but maybe that’s how its creator views their world, so it can still be insightful). But you don’t have to process someone’s visual expression like you would process true art. Visual expression seeks to communicate, but without reference to the rules of design and beauty. I believe true art recognizes the rules and design within the universe and works within the grain of these patterns to create something beautiful and emotive.

Art has rules and structure. Those rules and that structure provide a framework for for the creation of something truly amazing.

"The Rules" of Art

Art: The Process of Creating an Oil Painting

I recall an episode of Downton Abby where a certain gentleman made a glaring fashion blunder by wearing a white tuxedo vest. Obviously, he should have known better—should have known to wear the black vest. The family was scandalized and horribly embarrassed for him. I can only imagine.

Rules that dictate behavior in “high society” are often comical, and it’s easy to question their validity at all. Aren’t norms arbitrary and man-made? If society banded together, we could all just as well decide that it’s proper to wear orange vests to our dinner parties, and then that would be the right choice, right? The truth is, some rules are like that. And some aren’t. Some rules are really more conventions than rules. But the rules I want to proceed to discuss here – the rules of art, are far from arbitrary or man-made. We artists take our cue from nature itself. Nature – the way things work, the way things are put together – is what dictates the standards for beauty. I’d like you to study this photo:

This is a oil painting by John William Waterhouse entitled “The Lady of Shalott”. Look at the painting and notice where your eyes are led and where they rest. Are you haplessly scanning the piece, with nowhere for your eyes to land? Probably not. If you’re like most people, your eyes will immediately fall on the face, and then wander to the golden prow of the boat, and then follow the gentle curve of said boat, up the figure to rest once again at the girl's face. Your eye does this for a reason. The painter, John William Waterhouse, used a device called the Golden Section when he composed this piece. The Golden Section (also known as the Golden Ratio or the Divine Proportion) is an almost magical ratio. Mathematically, it is the ratio 62:38. This ratio is found all over nature, all over art, all over everything we deem beautiful. The Golden Section is the most aesthetically pleasing division of space. Looking up at the above photo again, start at the right side and trace your eyes over 62% of the way to the left. That point corresponds to the placement of the woman’s face. Start from the bottom of the photo and measure out 62% and you’ll find your eyes again stop at the woman’s face. Your eyes naturally fall on her because they are carried there by this intersection of two very important mathematical divisions. But there is another reason your eyes are drawn to rest upon the woman’s head. Waterhouse employed not only the Golden Section in the composition of his piece but also his knowledge of contrast. Your eye will always travel to where the lightest light and the darkest dark meet. There is a reason the Lady is wearing white and the sun is shining bright on the top of her head: this creates the point of greatest contrast in the painting against the dark background of the trees. The result is that your eyes are not scrambling but resting naturally at the exact point the artist predetermined to draw them.   I might also mention the use of complementary colors in this painting. Complementary colors are opposites on the color wheel and a complementary color is used to either balance the predominate color or to accent it. Look at the painting again. The predominant colors in this piece are muted greens but he also uses the complement of muted reds. In the water we see blues and violets and that is complemented with the golds and yellows. All this to say: this painting was not haphazardly assembled. Waterhouse worked within The Rules and created a masterpiece.  

...Good art is that it is always created with skill

The last thing I’ll say about good art is that it is always created with skill. There should be somewhat of a mystery about it. When standing in front of a beautifully painted piece of art you should be prompted to awe and wonder, asking the question, “how did he or she do that?” To be honest, much of the artwork in modern times leaves me asking no such question. There is no mystery and no obvious skill. Such art neither commands my respect nor holds my interest. Art that will be remembered throughout history is not that which ignores the rules, nor that which becomes tirelessly bogged down with the rules. No, art that lasts will be that which so internalizes the rules that it moves beyond them, synthesizing and remixing them into new focal points of beauty—new reinventions of that created order which was there from the beginning, but which is inexhaustible in its number of true expressions.