A conversation about art that I often repeat is that we should never aim for a specific style or approach. I came to understand this in my early years, struggling to improve my work by following the many artists introduced through colleges, museums and books. Their individual approaches lifted my spirits and stayed in my mind, sometimes guiding my own way of expressing myself on canvas and paper.

Much of the art I made then was a mental strain, trying to enter the world of the masters. As with many things in the arts, growth can come through unexpected turns or accidents. One such turning point came when I was commissioned to complete a large number of portraits within a fixed time. They were done from life, day after day, with no breaks from the intensity of the project.

Dear Young Girl

 

As the days passed, I felt a strange but uplifting strength move through my mind and body. I was suddenly on top of the work, sailing with confidence, fully present in each moment. Everything flowed eagerly and with conviction; myself and my art.

That project marked a major turning point. I needed that growing certainty. Watching the work progress, I saw myself and the joy in what I was creating. I deeply felt a positive strength in simply being me, without hesitation or overthinking.

From then on, there was hard work but no sense of labor, self-doubt or exhaustion. At the end of each day came a smile of accomplishment, something that continues to this day. Not every moment is perfect but most importantly, every moment is me.

Along with going my own way in art came a deep respect for strong messages and solid fundamentals. These are fully appreciated and applied as I pour pastel strokes onto paper, with immense help from that inner mind I often mention. Art flows from brain cells to fingertips. Life brings these moments and we lay them onto paper or canvas. Confidence grows through practice, experience and developing skills, and through knowing you are a complete individual.

We Make Art Happen

Obsession is a natural part of my character. It appears when needed, often unnoticed. I move through artistic problems that might seem unfathomable to others as part of an ordinary day. Sitting for coffee with me, you might think I’m just an average fellow, and in many ways I am. Yet those obsessive periods are essential in art and can be quite remarkable.

My mind may be blank in many areas of life, but with visual art I keep climbing an inspiring mountain with no summit. My young mind always knew where it was going with art. It never wavered. Success or failure was never the point, the goal was simply to make art happen.

Fiji Gentleman

 

We eventually realize we are in charge of where we go, with many paths leading forward. I discovered those paths multiply with every turn, keeping the mind engaged with life and the love of what we do, a mix of joy and hard work that truly works.

I am spoiled in having done what I wanted since deciding to pursue art at age 7. No boss dictated my days, and my hours were under my own command.

The Value of Values

I look for the lightest light and the darkest dark, judging all other values in relation to them. Occasionally, I carefully push a value one way or another: the light brushing the edge of a face, subtle and restrained; the shadow beneath a chin, dark enough to feel real but not overpowering. Experience brings these values into truth in a personal way.

Look at it this Way

Many see the sun as predictable, indifferent to our thoughts as it moves overhead day after day. But it’s not what the sun is, it’s what the sun does for us. Each day, its light is original and memorable, shaping landscapes, water, mountains, clouds, animals and us. As it moves across the sky, angles change and subjects shift, endlessly inspiring artists without pause.

I thoroughly enjoy painting profiles. There is so much emotion and character that can be seen and implied. Yes, my favorite subject: each head of us humans doesn’t have a bad angle or lighting or expression or features. Since the age of 7, I’ve been fascinated with people’s faces. Like an endless and inspiring journey, discovering fresh subjects to draw and paint. No two are alike, even though we have our eyes, nose and mouth in the same general area. Bravo to all of us. 

 

Something Called Life

When we’re young, in our 20s, we feel immortal. Then time moves on. By our early 30s, after losing older relatives and friends, mortality becomes real. Even so, we imagine decades still ahead. Time then seems to accelerate, as if we woke up old. I’m now over 80 and no longer say I have plenty of time. Each week, each year, adds another mark on the calendar. The same is true for my art friends. Age doesn’t stop us. We laugh, sing and create like kids on the block. We take care of ourselves, and we take care of our art.

We know that using our minds this way is one of the finest paths a human can take. We continue doing what we are meant to do: creating art in our own unique and personal ways. As my spirited friend Dick Bryers once said at 75, “Watch out, I’m just getting started!” All my art friends have traveled similar paths. There were moments of floundering but more often moments of luck, positivity and wondrous breaks, all within real life. The good outweighs the bad, nowhere more so than in the art world. We welcome you, dear reader, into this blessed place.

Let it Flow

I continue to say: let artistic impulses flow. Over the years, creating at my easel became as natural as breathing. Being away from the studio for too long felt like hunger. That’s why I carry sketchbooks when I’m away, as those small sketches save what we are meant to do. We create.

And Thus We Live On

Art keeps me alive and connected to the world. We create not only in the studio but through observation, imagination and anticipation. Though we work alone, our work will be seen by many, often far into the future. Sometimes this realization comes mid-piece and brings deep contentment.

Our art may outlive us even if stored away. Imagine it being rediscovered a hundred years from now, a part of our minds observed and perhaps treasured by future humans.

In the arts, we are in a sense eternal. We can imagine Monet laying down his strokes, feel Hemingway shaping his sentences, hear Beethoven’s opening notes, watch Paul Newman make a scene feel alive, witness dancers, carvings and creations across cultures and time. What is created remains. We in the arts are here for a special reason. You and I know this deeply and it fuels us. Remember, we live on. Monet, you and me.  —