Sunset or Sunrise? End or Beginning?

Summer Scenes from the Blue Ridge

Here is my next "Sunset" themed piece. Someone last week asked "Is that sunset or sunrise"? Good question since this is just a scene out of my head but to me, this looks restful, not "waking". Now the crickets begin to chirp and cicadas begin their song, unceasing through the night. Someday, I'll paint a good sunrise but for now, this one to me is definitely and happily a sunset over the Blue Ridge mountains. Take a drive on the Blue Ridge parkway in either direction from Asheville at about 8:00 tonight and this is what you'll most likely see (and this is why I love living in Western North Carolina. 

At the End of the Day

I am a huge fan of a very special time of day (no surprise here, because I paint it a LOT), and that time of day just lasts for only seconds: that time in the morning and the evening when it is both light and dark. That "in between" time is just awesome and mystical. It demands reverence. And...I find it demands to be painted repeatedly. Enjoy.

After Sunset
by William Allingham

The vast and solemn company of clouds
Around the Sun's death, lit, incarnadined, 
Cool into ashy wan; as Night enshrouds
The level pasture, creeping up behind
Through voiceless vales, o'er lawn and purpled hill
And hazéd mead, her mystery to fulfil. 
Cows low from far-off farms; the loitering wind
Sighs in the hedge, you hear it if you will,-- 
Tho' all the wood, alive atop with wings
Lifting and sinking through the leafy nooks, 
Seethes with the clamour of a thousand rooks. 
Now every sound at length is hush'd away. 
These few are sacred moments. One more Day
Drops in the shadowy gulf of bygone things.

Giverny: My Homage to the Man

A few weeks ago, Joy and I were up in Pittsburgh visiting our oldest daughter Camden, her husband Joseph and our baby grandson Elisha (who is amazingly cute). Well, one of the days we were there, we went to the Carnegie Museum of Art(which was truly amazing). After snaking our way through corridors of modern art and the medieval art, we (finally) got to my personal favorite: the impressionists. And oh my gosh -- Actually being able to get up close and personal with a Van Gogh was almost a holy moment! And then...and then I saw it: water lilies. Claude Monet. My favorite of all my favorites. I was transfixed on this massive panel of water lilies. I could see the brush strokes and understand the mixing of paint. It was beyond incredible. And Camden said, "you know, when you get back to your studio, you should create a water lilies painting as an homage to your man here." 

So I did. When I got back to my studio in Asheville, I began building water lilies on my canvas. 

This piece is entitled "Giverny", named after the home of Claude Monet, who lived at Giverny, France for forty-three years, from 1883 to 1926. I think one of the big reasons I love Monet was that he was seemingly fascinated by the play of light and reflections on the water. He worked on many paintings executed on a floating studio (in Argenteuil or on the Dutch canals). He was obviously taken with the inverted reflections you find in these "liquid mirrors". In 1893, he purchased a piece of land situated at the end of a narrow arm of the River Epte (side note: this is the same river where the St.Claire's originally settled down after a life of being Vikings, but that's another story). And this piece of land became his home. The water lilies and painted and re-painted and re-painted nearly ad infinitum were all done here (in his back yard). I really want his back yard!

So this piece is my way of "taking my hat off to the master". It is my take (with my own technique and materials) on a well familiar theme. Thank you Claude.

A Funny Thing Happened at the Studio Today...

So, imagine blissfully painting by your window (so you're in your "zone") and a nicely dressed woman (the mayor) enters your studio followed by professional looking gentlemen from HBO carrying TV cameras and a huge boom mic and she starts asking you questions about your unusual painting technique and what it's like to be an artist in Asheville. Yeah, so that was my afternoon!

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.

Color Explosion

The thing I really enjoy about a abstract wall art is that it feels as though I have very little control over the thing. It really does feel like it has a mind of it's own. This piece (above) is a studio photo of what is the largest abstract oil painting I've done. I was given several photos of the room in which it will eventually hang, and then my task was to design an abstract painting that complimented that space and would be a real statement piece. So I had an idea of the colors I was going to use, but that's all.

As I began several weeks ago, I felt like I had some good "movement" going on with the texture I applied. When that texture was done and covered with metallic leaf, then I began the actual paint application, and that's when the fun starts. I just almost randomly chose the first color and a large paint brush and dove right in. What I've learned is that I really need to apply one color at a time to my paintings and let those colors dry before I apply the next layer. This takes days and days, but slowly the piece begins developing into something interesting. Then,  it's a matter of looking critically at the piece and determine what is "growing" that you want to develop and accentuate, and what might need to be minimized (visual dead ends). It's kind of like working in a garden -- mulching the plants and pulling the weeds until everything you want growing is mature and beautiful and everything that should not be there is gone.

This painting is headed out to it's new home in Knoxville, TN in a couple weeks (after it gets the resin application).

My Largest Painting to Date...

Last August, I was hiking with my wife Joy around the mountains of western North Carolina and my mind was relaxing. I could feel it. And when that happens, when my soul "breathes deeply"...that is when I come up with crazy ideas. I can't help it. I'm convinced Joy was brought into my life to consistently bring me back to reality when I start a conversation with "Hey, I have an idea!"

But this time, she just listened and said, "I think you should try it." The idea I had shared was to create the largest painting I've ever done by far. Most of my paintings take about one month to complete. What my mind was questioning whilst hiking that day was "what would a six month painting even look like?" I had no idea. Hmmm.

I still have no idea. This baby is going on nine months now, but it is 90% complete thanks to yesterday. See, yesterday was the last day of studio stroll and it was pouring rain most of the day which was perfect weather to get going on the final stretch of my "big mamma" painting, since no one was exploring the River Arts District in such horrid weather. And because I needed to be there all day, I painted through the downpours and now I'm nearly done.

"Is this a commission?" people ask. "No," I explain. "This is the most impractical art related idea I've ever had." But I had to do it. I am so incredibly thankful that my wife Joy blew on the spark and didn't douse it. Will this ever sell? Is it actually worth the time and effort I put into it? I have no idea and for this one, it doesn't matter.  I want this to be the absolute best oil painting I am capable of creating to date. That is what it is for.

Most of what I do is for very practical reasons, but now and then, I am convinced people need to be okay with doing something simply and only for the joy of doing it. This monster painting is giving me great joy. And when I complete it and it's hanging on the wall in my studio, I will have a party and celebrate. And you'll be invited.

What to do with 2000 visitors in an art studio...

Over the last several days, I've been preparing for our spring Studio Stroll. This is an even that happens this weekend in Asheville's River Arts District and also in the fall and is immensely popular (mostly with locals who spend this time checking in with all their favorite artists). 

"What's a Studio Stroll?"

It used to be the studio stroll meant that for two weekends every year, all the art studios were open to the public and could be visited by, well, by anybody. I don't know how long it went along like that but eventually, some enterprising artist decided to open their art studio to the general public more often than just twice a year, and guess what? People visited their studios. Eventually, artists began to adopt the "open studio" business model and banded together and started advertising that they were here and open to visitors. And so nowadays, people can visit over 200 artists within about a one square mile area and have a good chance of walking in on some artwork actually in the process of being worked on. And because Asheville became known for this business model, I can make a living here doing artwork and greeting visitors from literally all over the country (and other countries). 

So what is the studio stroll like for an artist? That kind of depends on the artist. I love it but it's really exhausting. Imagine being asked by about 2000 people throughout the two days, "hey, why are these paintings so shiny?" "How do you do this?" "Do you really make a living just doing this?" (I love that last question! Ha!) It's honestly great fun talking to so many people who are visiting our studios because they love artwork (so we have something in common right from the start). 

The first couple studio strolls I did I just sat there all day long and greeted people, but not doing anything but sitting there was unbearably boring, so...now I have several canvases ready for the aluminum leaf application (people like watching that) and I will be working on my "Big Mama" 8' x 10' painting when I get tired of the aluminum application. 

You're invited!

So if you're in Asheville or close-ish, please know you're invited by all 200+ artists to pay us a visit. There are free trolleys both Saturday and Sunday. We're ready for you. 

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.

Joys of Life

I love my job. I love dreaming and creating. I love painting. I love living in Asheville and working in the River Arts District. But the joy all these parts of life give me is dwarfed by various small and amazing creatures. See, this weekend, Joy and I were up in Pittsburgh for the baptism of this little dude, our grandson, Elisha Bianco. As you can see, he is awesomely cute. With our kids scattered across the U.S., the short times we have with them (and now, our grandchildren) are treasured. This invigorates me. This is what it's all about -- giving and receiving love to and from the people you value most.

I always thought that being a grandparent just meant you were old. So old. But now that it's my turn to wear that label, I am thinking I was sold a pack of lies. Being a grandparent is a blast. It's so fulfilling. You look at these little vulnerable folk and wonder..."you are 1/4 me!" This is the baby of my baby. This is amazing.

And so, now I will go back to the artistic grindstone, happy and content. Life is good, and exquisite joy is crying to get out and be expressed on canvas with paint.

Children
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.

Ye open the eastern windows,
That look towards the sun,
Where thoughts are singing swallows
And the brooks of morning run.

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,
But in mine is the wind of Autumn
And the first fall of the snow.

Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more?
We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.

What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood, --

That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow
Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below.

Come to me, O ye children!
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.

For what are all our contrivings,
And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses,
And the gladness of your looks?

Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.