Painting is like Life. It's a conundrum. Sometimes I'll be painting along, chatting simultaneously on the phone, painting unconsciously, and then when I hang's good! How can that be? I don't even remember doing it! It's as if someone else painted it. What's happened I think, is everything that I've stored in my brain over the years in my subconscious, comes forward and paints it, while my present day self is on the phone.

Isn't art what makes us human? They've found that animals, after all, have language and make tools. But no animals make art. When I volunteered at an art museum I remember there was a section with all this Greek pottery; broken bits and serving pieces and bowls for food and jars for wine. Every one of them had the most wonderful, exuberant, fantastic images of everything under the sun; people, animals, gods. It was stunning. And  I thought "These aren't ritual or religious objects to be buried in tombs or to present to the gods. All these things are everyday objects that people created for themselves; to enjoy, to celebrate life, to demonstrate their skill and their appreciation of beauty." It really got to me. These things were thousands of years old, and all the people depicted there, and all the people who created these wonderful objects were gone now. Dust and ashes. But their joy is still here. Their expressions of life, how they felt about nature, it's all still here, right in front of me. It was so moving, so bittersweet. Nature wins. Death wins. But mankind, with all his flaws and his obvious calamities, he still makes THIS. He refuses to give up. He makes ART. It actually made me feel proud to be part of the human race. And isn't that unusual these days?

It's hard to know, when you're painting, when it's a good idea to be really free and bold with your paint, and when to be very sensitive and detailed. Again, like life. Sometimes you really have to pay attention to every tiny little thing you do. And sometimes you just have to say "f--k it!"

I guess what it really is, it's never really good to be sloppy or lazy, but it's definitely good to be FREE.

I, personally, always paint from a reference. Whether it's life in front of me, or a photo, or a drawing, or a combination of all of these. I never paint from my imagination only. That's just me. And I've noticed that when I'm painting, if I look at the object (whatever it is) very intensely, but getting just the ESSENCE of it, not the details, then go back to the canvas and try to reproduce THAT, it works. It's magic. Back and forth, back and forth. It's very hard work. You have to be very focused. Not lazy. But free. And when you stop, it's like you traveled to a different dimension, and now you're back. Back in the real world. As if you had been meditating or on drugs or something. It's really a wonderful experience.

The thing about Realism is that I really believe that some of the reason humans respond to paintings so intensely is because when you look at a painting you're looking at two things at once; the image, AND the paint. This dichotomy creates pleasure. And that pleasure doesn't really exist in abstract art. There is no image. Just the paint. To me, it's not half as much fun. The second you tell me the painting in front of me is a chair or a landscape, and not just colors, I like it that much more. The colors and lines are still exactly the same, you've just added another dimension for me to go to. Back and forth, back and forth. It's why I enjoy representational art so much more than abstract. I know it's not 'cool' to admit, but that's the way I feel at this point. So when there's a painting of a chair, sometimes there's pleasure in noticing how perfectly the paint has disappeared and become the chair. We marvel at the skill and again, enjoy the dichotomy...paint/chair...paint/chair. In some cases it's almost impossible to find the paint. It's like a game. When there's a painting of a chair that focuses on the paint, then the fun is finding the chair. Look at those big, blobby strokes of color, that luscious texture of paint. Yum! And it's a chair, too! How can that be? Pleasure!

Once the artist creates an image, does he own it? Does anybody?

Does it matter if people don't respond to an image in the exact way that the artist wants them to?

What happens when the artist doesn't clearly see his own work?

Is part of the appeal of abstract and conceptual art the idea that the viewer wants  to 'solve the puzzle'? They want to 'get it'. They don't want to be left out, unable to appreciate the pun or get the joke. 

It's funny that whenever artists gather to discuss their work, they inevitably discuss the materials they use, the techniques, the nuts and bolts of making a picture and framing it. Even hanging it. ANYTHING but the art itself. As if we are all pretending such things don't really matter. They're beneath us! Our interests are merely practical. If we were practical. we wouldn't be artists, would we? "What kind of paint do you use? Really? You mix it with a medium? What brand? Who does your framing? So expensive, isn't it?" We are all avoiding ever so delicately the elephant in the room, too shy to reveal our true thoughts or feelings. After all, what is our art if not simply a pure expression of ourselves? There on the wall, our passions, our fears, our hearts' desire for all to see. You might just as well ask me what I believe Life to mean. Or how do I see the world? Where does it come from? Why do I feel compelled to do it? What am I trying to say, to share? What does it mean? 
Ah, we all know these are the real questions that matter. But who is brave enough to bring them up?

If the image before you is great, does it matter how it got there? Is there such a thing as 'cheating' in art?
David Hockney claims that artists have been using projected images long before we ever thought. Vermeer, with his pinhole camera...even Renaissance painters. The Impressionists used photographs for reference, and mimicked the random composition of the camera to get a contemporary, real life quality that was new. Lautrec, Degas, and the post- Impressionists cut their figures off and pushed objects to the very corners of their canvases. Was that 'cheating'?

Photo-realism from the 60's and 70's celebrated the camera's view, some artists even using a projected slide to begin their paintings. The purpose was to create a photographic looking image, not an interpretation of real life. 
Why do so many realist painters I meet deny using photos as inspiration, or for information? They will say, "Oh, I use sketches and photos and work in the studio", if they're not doing 'plein air". 'Plein air' is HARD, I know, and I admire those who do it. But even Monet , the quintessential Impressionist went home and worked in his studio.  Those huge walls of waterlilies wouldn't exist, if he hadn't! Of course abstract painters needn't wrestle with this. Lucky!
I've heard that Andrew Wyeth wouldn't even consider looking at a person's work, once he knew they painted from photos. But how many art snobs look down their noses at Wyeth? I personally admire his looser watercolors and sketches, in contrast to the tight egg temperas and oils. The guy seems to have lived in a parallel universe in the past, in rural Pennsylvania, where there are no colors but an endless supply of browns, and no seasons but Fall and Winter. Whatever else you can say about him, he created his own world.

Should I confess? I use photographs, AND I work from life. I find that my paintings from photographs have a different feel from the ones from life, a different kind of light. I can see this right away. But I'm amazed how some people can't. Even art savvy critics and collectors can't tell which is which sometimes. People will look at a painting and say "It looks just like a photograph!" sometimes, not realizing that to many artists, that's NOT a compliment. If you really look you can see brushstrokes and the paint clearly. Sometimes when people say this they mean, "It looks so real". It's really a very complex subject.

In my heart I believe it's the image and the viewer's reaction to it that count. Not how it got there. In the end, who cares?  It's so complicated; artifice, expression, personal taste, all play a role. Whenever people start declaring RULES about art, I get suspicious. 

The other day, watching the old "Lust for Life" on TV, there was a scene where Van Gogh and Gauguin were in a heated argument about the 'right' way to paint. Of course it was a fictional scene, but I'm pretty sure it could've happened, knowing those two. And I just had to laugh, cause obviously they were both right! They were both amazing geniuses whose work is irreplaceable and unique. What's to argue?

The best thing about being an artist, in my view, isn't the capability to translate the natural world to canvas ( though that's unbelievably thrilling ), it's SEEING the world differently. I only realized lately that everybody doesn't walk around seeing their surroundings the way I do. It's like I'm in a different universe..with light and depth and color and details that many others just don't get. It's not a parallel universe, it's embedded in THIS one. Scientists say that dark matter makes up 3/4 of the Universe, and we don't even see it. But it's there. Being an artist feels like seeing ALL of it. All the time. Like having Superpowers. Is part of the price we pay for this amazing stroke of luck that we have a harder time fitting into the real world? That's ok. I'll pay!

Artists say they "work every day". Or they "work in their studio", or whatever. Don't believe it. It's PLAY. It's fun. And what's more, the more fun you have painting, the more fun the painting is to look at. I believe that that's the way it is with most art. My daughter was a dancer. I used to advise her to yes, try to get the steps perfect, but never forget to enjoy it. It's infectious. There's a transference of joy to the audience. The same for my son at his piano recitals. Another child might be technically perfect, but he's no fun to listen to at all. The joy, the spontaneity, the sensitivity, is transferred in art. That's the secret.  Maybe the same is true of life; enjoy, appreciate, play. It's not a JOB. It doesn't have to be perfect!

BEAUTY     Clorox bottles and Sardines 
Somebody, ( I should know who ) once said "Truth is Beauty and Beauty, Truth". But really, what IS Beauty, anyway? I've come to realize that beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. The first time I consciously remember considering this was at the Eggleston exhibit at the MOMA in the seventies. Besides being absolutely stunned by the photos, one image captivated me in a way I'll never forget. It was a bright sunny afternoon somewhere in the rural South. Little puffs of white clouds skittered across a robin's egg blue sky. The landscape was chartreuse patches of scrub, and there was a red clay path littered with empty Clorox bottles. The blinding white of the bottles echoed the white of the clouds. It was beautiful. In my normal, everyday life I would've been appalled. Who could do such a thing? Mar the pristine landscape in such a away? But I was not in my normal everyday life mode. I was discovering a new artist I loved, seeing something NEW. I was opening myself up and experiencing everything right through my pores, just letting it wash over judgements, no categorizing, just really SEEING. It was wonderful, this world of Eggleston. And the previously ugly, misshapen, and discordant became poetry. Part of the luck of being an artist is that you can see the world this way. Maybe not all of the time, still it has its advantages. Bonnard painted a beautiful shimmering silvery painting of a pile of sardines. To experience a childlike awe of the visual world...I consider it part of my job description! 

But I'm NOT painting goats, silly! Of course not. I'm painting shadows and sunlight on grass...mud and straw and poop, but to me it may as well be spun gold. Light on fur, and glowing edges of things. Lines, arabesques of lines that appear and disappear. Shadows aren't simply green or purple. Underneath layers of pink and blue make their presence felt. To reach the perfect shade, there must be five, six, or seven others hidden underneath. I know they're there. I can sense them influencing the color on top. It's all a pale imitation or re-creation of the infinities in the layers of that exact moment. Captured for you to peruse at your leisure. Even the face of the goat ( and he has a lovely face), is saturated in light, his nose just a faint ember of pink.  Always the natural world, the visual feast, the chance discovery...THAT'S what I'm painting. Not "goats".

Sometimes, when I'm really focused and painting, I can feel myself sort of uncouple my brain from its normal reality in order to fully connect with what I'm seeing. How cn I explain it? I go to a place that doesn't exist in everyday life, not even when I'm admiring a tree or a beautiful sky . This is a place that you only grasp for a moment, where your consciousness completely alters, and you're almost one with the subject. The whole universe, including whatever you're looking at, becomes something ELSE entirely, allowing you to access a part of it that's usually hidden. You then attempt to transcribe this onto the canvas. Even if it doesn't work completely, or not at all, you've BEEN TO THIS PLACE. It expands who you are. It changes you, having been there. It sounds like how people describe drug experiences, doesn't it? Maybe it IS similar. It's addictive, for sure. And it drains you. But you want to go back again and again......

Beatrix Potter Helps Me Understand Everything

What if you’re lucky enough that you don’t need to live off of your art sales? Then what does selling a painting really do for you? What does it mean? I was thinking about this the other day, when I was happy to have sold a flurry of paintings in a short period of time. It struck me that it’s the CONNECTING with a person who ‘gets’ you that is so rewarding. It’s finding a person from your ‘tribe’, someone who can see the world as you do and appreciates your interpretation of it. Of course!  Why did I never see that before? Because if that’s the real thrill behind selling a piece, then there’s not much difference between actually selling and having someone love your work, but never buy it because they they just can’t afford it. And not only that, it puts to rest any feelings of jealousy or competitiveness with other artists who might sell more than you do do. Those just aren’t your ‘people’, that’s all. There’s no point in focusing on what you need to do to sell more. Your only job as a true artist is to be the very best version of yourself that you can be. Trying to imitate someone else, or adjusting your style and subject matter to be in vogue is the worst mistake you could make make! It’s the exact opposite of what you need to do!  Push your limits, yes, investigate your own viewpoint, go deep inside and rummage around in there to see what you really mean to say. You’ll find your audience eventually. People will respond.  YOUR people. The Rothko people are not gonna  be the  Grant Wood people. But that’s ok! The same as in life.   Everyone’s not  going to have the same taste as you or appreciate your point of view, but that’s  just fine. 
I never had any Beatrix Potter books as a child. But I remember pasting a little rabbit illustration on my apartment door in New York to acknowledge Spring. Now I know it was Benjamin Bunny. Many years later I grew to appreciate the delicacy and charm of Potter’s watercolors. And her love of Nature. I read a few books about her life, her gardens and her legacy. I began to see her as someone I felt very connected to. The image of her in her Victorian dress, complete with hat and jacket, her rabbit at her could I not identify with her?  I myself raised a wild baby rabbit and walked him on a leash in my suburban neighborhood, followed closely by a gaggle of children. Her story; mocked by her family, and unappreciated by many around her, yet she stayed steadfastly herself. Until the moment when someone said to her “Beatrix, you are an artist”. And of course, she always was. 
Even now there are plenty of people who have no use for Potter and dismiss her work as sentimental or cute. She's definitely not ‘cool’.  The guidebook I have for touring the lake District gives Hilltop  only  one star. Obviously the author is not one of her people. Her delightfully charming world of animals and plants is lost on him.  Luckily the naysayers had little effect on Beatrix herself. She stood her ground and her creative vision prevailed. May we all be able to do that!

I've been browsing through images on tumblr lately. Or, more correctly, been sucked into a whole other world of blogs filled with breathtakingly beautiful images and poetry. I've learned that certain blogs are just chocked full of one thing after another that speak to my heart. Fantastic old illustrations, all kinds of painting from all genres, moody black and white images, stunning photography. It is ENDLESS. If I ever felt alone in my artistic sensibility, tumblr has rescued me.  As much as I rail against the Internet, this is a definite game changer. And I LOVE that I don't have to to come face to face with all these new images within a context. It's just, there they are! No judgement. I've discovered so many new artists, and so many new works by artists I already knew. Thank you "indigo dreams" whoever you are...and "along time alone". I even love that I have no idea who these people are, I just know they are feeding me bread for my soul. Every time my well runs dry all I need to do is look at the images they've curated and I'm inspired again.