A Defense of the Arts in America

Henry Miller once wrote "A corn fed hog has a better life than an American artist."  Years ago, that comment made me laugh when I read it.  However, times have changed.  What was humor then carries a dark cloud of serious disregard now.  The current President of the United States is someone for whom it may be said that his only serious connection to the arts may well be when he used his foundation's money to buy a portrait of himself.  His recent budget proposals reflect not only a disregard for the arts, but outright contempt.  Because of this, I wish to offer this defense of the arts in America.

When White House budget director Mick Mulvaney recently stepped forward to defend President Trump's current budget proposal, he stated that this was a "Hard power budget."  Not a surprising use of words when one considers President Trump's thuggish use of machismo and power language to cower his critics.  How on earth might people who believe in "hard power" ever be convinced that their proposals to cut funding for the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities to zero are bad proposals?  What it says, is that those who ought to be the stewards of the culture of these United States choose instead to invest nothing in it.  It says, in very plain terms, that the great many artists, writers, performers and so many others in the creative professions - are worth nothing to this administration.

It is a strange thing to think that an oil and energy companies should enjoy an estimated 4 billion in tax subsidies - essentially saying to taxpayers that we ought to subsidize their business...but to the "Hard Power" advocates in the Trump administration, if a tiny fraction of that money is invested in American Arts, it is clearly a waste.  This kind of mentality betrays the social Darwinist underpinnings of some strains of Alt-right philosophy.  To them, the arts and arts related businesses should be allowed to fail if they can't make it on the free market.  In the majority of cases, if an gallery doesn't make it, it does indeed fail.  The law of the jungle still holds true.  But my argument lies primarily in the fact that our government sees our arts programs as a needless extravagance (even though they represent a minuscule fraction of our overall Federal spending), and I see our arts spending as absolutely critical to the emotional and cultural lives of the American people.

Winston Churchill, who enjoyed making paintings in his spare time, was once asked to cut arts funding during World War II.  And he famously replied "Then what are we fighting for?"  Clearly the legendary British leader saw that he and others were not just fighting Hitler in the conventional sense - they were fighting for the preservation of English and Western culture.  And that means, among other things, the preservation of their arts.

The creative arts are different than other forms of productivity.  The creative arts represent the various arenas concerned primarily in the cultivation of a meaningful inner life for the artists and the broader culture.  The creative arts are deeply concerned with the search for meaning and expression in human life.  What would this world be without them?  What kind of grey, dystopian society would result if there were none of the creative arts to "wash the dust of life away", as Picasso once remarked?

I walked through a hotel just yesterday and found myself thinking about this problem.  If there were no artists, there would be no art on the walls.  Even that cheesy kind of low grade graphic art - the kind which is made to simply match the curtains and fit the decor of a space without upsetting anything.  Take the art of the walls and immediately you would have a different space.  If there was no art there would also be no music.  If there was no music there would be no pleasant sounds making even a short elevator ride more relaxing.  Take away the arts and there would be no real literature to read at the end of the long day at work.  Your suitcase would be lighter but your heart would be duller.  Take away the arts even further and those who decorate the interior of a structure would simply vanish - and the interior of our most pleasing buildings would just be gray walls.  No colors.  No life. Pure function.  The ceiling would keep the rain off your head.  The air conditioning would still work. But you would walk into a colorless, music-less, artless building.  Your senses would be reduced to dull functionality.  A lack of even the smallest reaction.  Emptiness.  And this is only what no art might do to one building...not forgetting either, the creativity in the making of truly original architectural wonders.

What would result in a world with no art would be a planetary North Korea.  Bland and tasteless - repressive and soul crushing.  Though we should not forget that authoritarian leaders are more than happy to bring out art in the service of their own personal goals - so even there art survives, but only in slavish service to the state.  And that, is more like no art at all.  North Korea would not survive if it had its equivalent of Delecrox's "Liberty Leading the People" or Picasso's "Guernica."

                         "Liberty Leading the People" by Eugene Delacroix

As it stands here in the United States of 2017 we still have our full freedom of expression.  For that, I and many others, are deeply grateful.  Luckily, the founding fathers put our freedom of expression out of the reach of greedy men of the moment who might snatch it away - and destroy it forever.  Yet, my primary argument is with the contention that the U.S. government gives, by way of this proposed budget, that the arts mean NOTHING in terms of funding.  It says to the little boys and girls who are drawing with their crayons and spreading joy in the world - that a future where they hold a paintbrush, or act in a play, or write a book - it is not worth having.  Therefore, commit yourselves to something else.  Art is not worth it.

But we all know this isn't true!  It isn't true at all.  When we think of some of the great cities of the world, it is not an accident that such cities are often bound up with having profound museums, amazing theaters and gilded concert halls.  All the products of beauty and culture that have long contrived to make the dull regularity of daily life bearable for city people and country people alike.  I myself spent time in France and love that country very much.  It is interesting that being an artist in France has all the regularity of being an accountant or bureaucrat.  Art permeates the culture in France.  I remember sitting in bars and talking to random people who loved the poetry of Jacques Prevert.  Average people in France always had their favorite painters - and France claims its artists with great pride.  That comes from a culture that believes that art informs the life of the people.  And that the life of the people will ultimately be better if all segments of public life - including the government, acknowledge that art is worth something.

The creative arts are also important to American culture because we have often been a culture of endless work,  little play, and full throttled mass production.  American artists of all kinds have the ability to hold a mirror up to the culture and show the culture to itself.  And if we allow our government to say that art is worth nothing, then we are saying that we don't want to see what our artists may wish to say about our country, its people, and its culture.  We don't want to hear the poetry of Juan Felipe Herrer or we don't want to see "The Cycle of Terror and Tragedy, September 11, 2001" by Graydon Parrish.  We shirk from holding the mirror up to our culture.  Could it be that we are afraid of what we will see?

"The Cycle of Terror and Tragedy, September 11, 2001" Graydon Parrish (Used with permission of the artist)

At the end of the day, even if the cultural argument fails, it would seem to me that we should be able to understand that art jobs are JOBS.  I would think that that kind of ruthlessly capitalistic calculus would work on someone like President Trump.  All the mythos, all the things that Americans tell themselves about being free spirits - about working with their own hands, being independent and building businesses...all these things ought to ring a few bells with those who advocate for the rights of businesses - including arts businesses.  But strangely this doesn't seem to be so.  An arts job is seen as expendable - even worthy of elimination in the eyes of those formulating the Trump budget.  And this leads me to believe that they would prefer artists be silent - or complicit, which may be worse.  They fear the image of America in the age of Trump - and they would prefer to not have the nasty inconvenience of serious reflection in an age of demagoguery and deep political fractures.

Most artists would never contend that we are worth more than any other productive member of society.  But we would contend that we are worth as much as the rest.  And so if the United States government can spend billions subsidizing car companies - or billions subsidizing oil companies, or unthinkable amounts of money on our military - it would seem the smallest thing in the world to set aside a minuscule fraction of the federal budget for the propagation arts and culture.  The fact that the Trump administration doesn't even do this means that they not only do not value the arts - they mean to put the arts through the floor.  The message is clear.  Clearer still when we can place an order for 8.5 billion dollars worth of F-35 jets, and no serious public debate occurs on the issue.  Yet if we ordered 87 instead of 90 F-35s, we could fund the entirety of the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities.  The Presidential budget says, in effect, that these precious arts and cultural endowments are not worth 3 airplanes for the already mighty United States Air Force.

Though it may be hard to imagine it now - in Renaissance Italy there were cities and governments that placed tremendous value on the arts.  In Florence alone, city fathers were constantly scheming to get the finest artists of the day, artists such as Michelangelo, Botticelli, Leaonardo, Raphael, and many others - to create what today are some of the finest works in all of western civilization.  They eagerly awaited the great things their artists might portray about the history and accomplishments of their cultures.  Artists reaped the benefits of lucrative commissions, and their cities had great works of beauty and meaning brought forth in front of delighted citizens.  Today, many countries around the world - even with the stresses that most governments endure in trying to meet the needs of their citizens -  countries around the world still support their arts with small fractions of their budgets.  Even further, many countries have ministers of culture - who are themselves representatives in their respective governments as advocates for arts and culture.  And what about the United States?

Perhaps, as we go forward to resist this denigration of the arts by the Trump administration - perhaps a new rallying cry should be the previously mentioned phrase "Arts Jobs are American Jobs!"  A powerful thing to say because it is completely true.

Arts jobs ARE American jobs.

Conservatives, Progressives, Independants and all others - all groups enjoy and benefit from the arts.  So why aren't arts jobs held in higher regard?  Why is a subsidy to a huge multinational corporation considered essential, but not the pennies on the dollar spent for the arts?  The very fact that I have had personal experience with Conservatives, Progressives, and others buying my own work tells me that art in fact is a unifying force in an age of deep political divisions.  We need even the temporary healing that arts can bring in our culture.

We don't want to be an aesthetic North Korea.  We simply believe that the richest country in the world can do in peace what Churchill insisted on preserving even during a war.  Artists in America only want to be productive members of our society.  And we only want a government that recognizes that we are....just that.

Productive members of society.

This is our hope.

www.neilmyersart.com 

Eternal Spring and the Search for Color and Meaning

                    "The Symphony of Spring II" 30 x 40 in.  Available at the Marshall Gallery

I once joked to a friend by saying "It's always Spring in my works!"  And for many years that lighthearted observation has been true.  Despite whatever our general impression of the environment of the Sonoran Desert may be, the desert does present something of a monotonous face for much of the year.  No, that is not to say that there isn't life and change big and small - but the most brilliant explosion of color occurs in the Spring.

I latched on to the theme of Spring and how it is all pervasive in my work.  On the one hand, it was done with the idea to simply capture the Spring colors - when the yellows and blues and purples of the desert explode to life and the colors greet the arrival of warm days - leading into hot summer.  On the other hand my embrace of Spring themes in my work had also to do with the realization of how happy I was painting nature in a state of maximum color.  I began to realize that shadows weren't even shadows - they too had amazing color potential, and gradually all segments of the canvas brightened.  Until a tension was reached that left many of the paintings bathed in yellows, draped in flowers, and moving with color.

This painting "The Symphony of Spring II" is a derivation from a scene in one of Paul Gill's photographs ( Which I use with permission - and I remind all artists to seek the permission of the photographer before working from someone else source materiel )  Paul Gill has long struck me as one of Arizona's finest artists working in any medium - his being that of the camera.  His work has been featured in Arizona Highways Magazine, and he is one of the most respected Arizona photographers.  I was so very fortunate to strike up a friendship with him that has been fueled by art - some from the camera, some from the brush.  When I met Paul at a show opening in Scottsdale some time ago - he was so very happy to see artwork having been made from his photographs.  Early in his career he wanted to be a painter - and then transitioned to photography.  But he still sees scenes as a painter would, and I have no doubt that informs the excellence in his photography.

When I work from a photograph, as I did in this case, I take the most bare, basic outlines of the photo and use it primarily for the sketch of the painting.  In this case, if you were to see the photograph you likely wouldn't identify the painting that came from it.  I use the sketch and then I deviate completely using only basic details.  As I have matured as an artist, I find strangely that I don't stick to the sketch as tightly as I used to.  In fact, the early sketch and source photograph probably only informs 15 to 20 % of the total image.  The rest is imagination.  I feel often that I am imagining "against" the scene.  I confront the image and make in interpretation that is part emotion, part structure.  And in recent years, more emotion than anything else.

"The Symphony of Spring II " captures a wealth of sentiments that are my internal treasures.  The deep blues that seem to speak of sky and ocean and shadow.  The yellows that emerge with all life during the Springtime in the Sonoran Desert.  All the renderings of contrast - the colors against an inky, ivory black.  And the sense that a special time of year has arrived.  When a brutal land of heat and spikes and stinging insects undergoes the change that ushers in the Summer.  I have been many times into fields of poppies such as this - several of the trails of Catalina State Park have beautiful carpets of Mexican Gold Poppies during the Spring.  I've seen my kids playing with these little flowers - and seen the excitement of hikers who have hit the trails to experience this special time of year.

This painting also reminds me of something said by my mentor and friend Jean-Claude Quilici.  He said "A painting articulates itself by contrast."  And the entire foreground speaks to this principle - as it was first a painting in a pitch dark, shiny ivory black.  The entire lower half of the painting - and then one by one the flowers and details painted on top of this contrasting element.  It might well be that all things arise out of the darkness.  Something that informs our deepest primitive part of the brain - all light against darkness.  All emerged, created against that deep black.  Like the stars upon the deep black of space, or a candle in the dark.  Life created against non life - created almost in spite of it.

Most all my paintings make me very happy - this one was a standout.  It hummed with contrast and color as it emerged on canvas.  And if you'd like to see it, I invite you to visit the Marshall Gallery in Scottsdale, AZ to see this and other works.  It's a goal of mine to write more about my paintings going forward - because even I realize that there is a story behind every painting.  And it is a healthy thing to pause and remember the life of a painting as it relates to the internal visions of the artist.

One of the great joys of my life has been the constant compliment of having had my work bought and  collected for so many years.  With amazing galleries to support me, fantastic collectors who buy my work regularly, as well as magazines and books who've written about it - I remain always deeply grateful to be able to be an artist, and to dream with abandon countless Spring scenes.  Thank you!

Neil

Marshall Gallery, Scottsdale 

The Artist at 40, And the Art of Growing up on Canvas

It has been a long time since I have published an art blog...studio work has always taken precedent whenever I had free time - and I also run a survivors group for people who have had Schwannoma tumors, as I have had.  Throw two kids into the mix and busy is the word - but I wanted to step back in and write a little more...

Last September I turned 40.  And I remembered a quote that I heard attributed to the artist Thomas Hart Benton, where he was reported to have said "The life of the artist is great, if you can just get through the first 40 years of it."  I think this is a very wise observation.  In much of the professional world you are expected to be well on your way by at least the age of 30.  Art has a strange kind of gravity that seems to force a longer maturation period....

In 2005 I was selected by Southwest Art Magazine to be one of the young American artists to watch that year.  And for a period of time articles or mentions of me had much to do with my age.  I was in fine arts galleries by my late twenties - and then was noted as being a young artist to keep your eye on.  But now at the age of 40, I find myself at a curious tipping point, in my own eyes, and the eyes of others.  Not old by any stretch - not young either.  And by no means still able to call myself a "Young artist."  The grey hairs thick in my beard give the game away some time ago.  And that's ok - I accept it and wouldn't change it.

I said to my wife the other day that if I were to die tomorrow I would have no regrets as an artist.  I would have regrets as a father, because both of my children are young - and the same kind of regret at the idea of leaving my dear wife too early.  But for my art, I would have no regrets.

Thinking back over it all, I realize that I was no prodigy.  I made shaky drawings as a young man - and only made improvements that came slowly, painfully, and with time.  But when they came I realized it, and so did others.  That x-factor became present in my life - that being, the regard of others for my work.  I still struggle to realize how highly some people regard my paintings.  One collector I know has 12 of them.  Others have 5 or 6.  As time has passed, the fact that I have sold a great many works hasn't pumped me with arrogance - but it has filled me with the confidence of my own visions.  I found a style that I enjoy and I work in that style.  I don't try to reinvent the wheel....rather, I try to make the one I myself made roll - as well as possible.  The overwhelming feeling of gratitude is what I am often left with.  I feel like the fate of things could have landed on any other person, but it landed on me.  And I worked and worked and worked on it - and for it.  I have never assumed anything for granted.  I have doe everything I could to squeeze the very marrow of meaning out of oil paint and canvas.  Subsequently, I have grown up on canvas - from the time of first being noticed nationally, in my late twenties, until where I am now.

The other thing I do differently now is that I rely more on inner vision.  My paintings look less like the photographs they are often sketched from - they are wild departures that often can't be matched to the photographs I've used to inspire them.  What measure of success I have managed, it has simply told me "go forward" when ideas fill my mind's eye.  I make the kind of paintings that I want to exist.  I don't follow anyone - except perhaps my friend Jean-Claude Qulici and a still abiding need to occasionally leaf through the works for Vincent Van Gogh.  The roots of the tree, in that regard - haven't moved.

If being 40 years old has taught me anything, it is the permission to bring inner visions to life.  The hesitations are mostly gone.  If I see an image in my head - I try to paint it.

Like Picasso, I have often believed that children were the truest of artists.  They make art without the legion of hangups and pre-conceptions that weigh down the adult act of making art.  That's why I am soon to likely take on my first art student - a 2nd grade girl who wants to paint with me.  And I am seriously considering teaching only children.  There lies the chance to plant the courage of convictions for the next generations of artists...

So it goes.  There was no crisis as I hit the age of 40.  Just a sense of satisfaction and happiness.   I hope that I am still here to say something about what it means to be 50, 60, or 70 - but whatever the case, I am grateful to be here now - and mainly concerned with being here now in the best possible way that I can.  I've grown up on canvas - just as much as I have grown up in the world.  The world needs a little beauty and color - and I should only be grateful to have had the chance to make my own mark into filling that need.  It has been amazing - and I thank all my dear friends, family, and collectors who have seen in the work what I hoped they would.  What we believe about ourselves is one thing.  What others make of us is often another.  I have had the good fortune and the faith of many others who enjoyed my work - and thus gave me the outlet to say what I needed to say in color and brushstrokes.

So here's to the next ten years - glittering canvases and unforgettable experiences - and undying hope for the better
and for the beautiful...

- Neil

Selling Art is Wonderful - It's NOT Selling Out

This week I am working on a painting that is slated to be a gift to the city of Oro Valley.  Can't reveal much in the way of details…more to come later.  I am also framing a group of works that will go to Cobalt Fine Arts for a small paintings show that I am in with my dear friend the artist Natasha Isenhour - called "Jewel Tones."

One thing that has been on my mind recently was a question put to me by a friend who is an aspiring writer…and that was the question about "selling out", i.e., having your art or what you do affected by selling.  The question wasn't loaded, and it was well meant.  But it did cut to the chase over the issue of the role of selling work and how that affect the creation of it.

I'll just come right out and say it, because the older I get the more honest I am - I LOVE selling work!  I love it.  The fact that people pay notable sums of money to collect my paintings is one of the most gratifying experiences in my life.  It tells me many things - primarily that the modes of expression that I have tapped into are not just my own.  And that when others see it something resonates inside of them, and they can then visualize the work in their homes or in some meaningful space.  That is wonderful - and having galleries back you because you have a reputation of selling, also a great compliment.

As to whether selling works affects my work - I can also be honest and say YES it does cross my mind, the fact of wondering whether a work might sell or not.  The way I see it, an accountant likes to get paid.  A teacher likes to get paid.  A doctor likes to get paid - why should an artist not like to make his or her modest sum?  I think this is fine.  It's totally normal.  My wife once made the point that in the vast majority of cases when one of my works sells, she said it is obvious why.  It is more detailed, more colorful, the contrasts are sharper - something is notable and raises the bar in those paintings, and as she said, those paintings are often the ones that sell.

However the caution that I work under is simple…I do not let the fact that certain works sell dominate the selection of new works.  It's ok to do something that is your bread and butter kind of work - that's fine.  But one must always keep an eye to the creation of new images.  All the time.  You have to remain an artist and the cash signs can't be the first things that decorate your goggles you see the world through.  The creation of new images is important also because when you consider your work in retrospect, even those 'bread and butter' paintings that you know collectors want and buy - even they were original works dreamed up, composed, and painted out of nothingness.  They too were new at some point, so you can't close down that regenerative process by which new works are made.

There is a sense that I have noticed - that an artist has to be so avant garde as to be a misunderstood pauper - and then they get some kind of stamp of legitimacy.  I think that is a bunch of crap.  I have seen artworks that don't communicate anything at all.  That seems to me to be representative of a breakdown in the relationship with the viewer.  And I am sure many such artists comfort themselves in the fact that they are doing something ahead of their time - so much so that nobody gets it.  Again, I don't believe that.  I have always said that an artist is free to go out on a limb if they want to; but that they can't turn around and blame everyone else if the crowd doesn't want to go out on the limb with them.  And from my experience in the art world, sales are not terribly common out there on the limb.  I stick a little closer to the tree…

Lastly I would say that it should not be unsaid that ART IS WORK.  Maybe that's why they call it artwork.  It is not gratuitous leisure.  It is work.  If anyone has the temptation to trivialize art, they probably have never wrestled with the difficulties of created a meaningful and complicated piece of work.  After I have spent three or four weeks on a single painting I feel that it is a wonderful reward when the work finds a home and makes someone else's living or working space beautiful.  I'm very happy that I can make a very modest living at it.  No, visions of dollars signs shouldn't ever be allowed to dominate your process.  But YES, selling is a great thing.  It gives you the confidence to dream big - and in many ways, helps you be more creative, more fulfilled, and able to be full of faith that you can make something equally great to the things that have come before.

www.neilmyersart.com

Creativity Blog # 3, Artist Ken Christensen

 Welcome to creativity blog #3, this one featuring California based painter Ken Christensen.  I have always been a great fan of Ken's work, and I even have one of his paintings hanging on the wall of our family room - alongside the best works of my artist friends.  Ken has an extensive body of work and throughout his paintings I have always felt that he was one of the best at striking a near perfect 'tension of details', as I like to call it.  By that I mean he adds just enough detail to preserve the visual scene, but his works still show traces of the joyful spontenaiety of a sketch.  Ken was integral in the creation of the "New Fauves" group of artists - which I might add is the only group of artists that I have formally affilliated myself with in my entire art career.  This is a group of painters who all feel their roots in Fauvism and Expressionism - who sense, as I do, the great debt that we owe to artists like Van Gogh and the Fauvist painters that followed him.  I was also delighted to find that Ken knew of and appreciated the work of my mentor and friend, the artist Jean-Claude Quilici.

Here is the Q and A with Ken, enjoy!

Ken Christensen
Artist - Writer

http://www.kenchristensen.net/pages




1) What personal habits do you have that you feel make you more creative?

One of the things that keeps me creative is going for long walks. Everything you need to know is in nature. Nature reveals its secrets slowly so you have to be patient. You can pass by the same scene many times but at one special moment a new vision of the same thing can be revealed. It's impossible to find a subject to paint by driving around in a car. I have to see things on foot, one step at a time. And in art light is always the real subject. So at every time of day, when the light is different there is always a different subject. There can be nothing at one time of day to paint and at another time when the sun is in a different position something remarkable may reveal itself.
We are always standing on the shoulder of giants and most good ideas spring out of something earlier by someone else.
Another habit that feeds my creativity is sketching. Sketching is art in its purest form. When I sketch I'm not thinking of sales or finished work; I'm just having fun. When you're having fun, good things happen. When I sketch I am being more personal in what I choose to portray. It is the personal in art that really sets the greats apart. One must have a unique vision and art succeeds as much as you are being yourself. Sketching whatever catches your eye allows this personal vision to flourish.

2) Who are the creative artists, in any field, that inspire you the most?

I'm a huge Neil Young fan. In literature Henry Miller has had a huge influence on me. In art, Van Gogh has been my hero since childhood, not only for his art but for his life and convictions. His letters are one of the great works of world literature and very inspiring. The artist I've known personally that has influenced me the most is my friend Manuel Gil in Paris. Manuel is Spanish but has lived in Paris thirty years or more. He showed me what a true artist is. He has an energy and enthusiasm for art that I have rarely encountered. It reminds me of what I know of Picasso who could create art out of anything, by picking up whatever was at hand. Manuel turned me on to other techniques like woodblock printing, pastel portraits, monotypes, and other things. Like Picasso, Manuel is also an original thinker with surprising opinions on a wide range of subjects. He is a wild bohemian but also a true nobleman who has a sensitivity and insight beyond the majority.

3)  What do you do when you are not feeling creative?  Or - how to you get yourself back to a point where you are feeling creative?

As I was saying, the first step in trying to find the urge to paint or some creativity is to go for a long walk. A very long walk will always sort things out. The other thing I do is to switch techniques. If I'm getting burned out or bored with oil painting I will switch to watercolor for a week or weeks. I also go back to sketching , the source for all further creative endeavors. Lastly, if I'm still stuck I will force myself to do something. Just working will release my creative juices. Without fail I always feel better by doing something, anything. Just doing something will snap you out of your lethargy and get the juices flowing.

4)  What are some creative outlets that you enjoy outside your own respective creative field?

I write. I've written five books. I just finished another one, "Between the Covers: Reading, Writing, and Romance" which is a memoir told through my connection to books, reading, collecting, running a bookstore, and writing.

5)  For someone who has talent in a creative field, how would you suggest they go about converting that talent into something original - something that stands out from the crowd?

As I said, great art is always personal. It sounds too simple but the ultimate advice is to be yourself. Trust yourself that your idle thoughts are worthy of developing. There is room at the top for any style in any field if it is original. It depends if your goal is to create art or to make money. They are often very different. In terms of creativity and quality art then one must trust oneself and do whatever you damn please.

Links 

Official website:  http://www.kenchristensen.net/pages

New Fauves website:  http://www.newfauves.com/pages


 

Creativity Blog # 2, Arizona Photographer Paul Gill

 A few years ago when I stumbled across the photographs of Paul Gill, I was a bit overwhelmed.  I had the feeling like I had discovered a photographer with something of the same sensibility as what I had hoped to bring to my own best paintings.  A sense of design.  A sense of the extreme variations of color captured in the desert - if one knew the land well enough to have a sense of timing and urgency to find the land at its highest point of expression.  I actually felt like Paul saw the scenes that he photographed much like some of the best painters I knew.  It was clear that to him an image is more than a digital click - it has all the potential to be a piece of art.  Paul Gill, more than any other Arizona photographer I am aware of, makes photographs rise to the level of fine art.

He is also one of the very few photographers whom I have sought out for permission to paint from his images (A reminder to all artists, you should not be painting from other people's photographs without permission.  Paul and I made an arrangement by which I could paint from his images ).  A handful of some of my own best paintings of the desert, mostly in spring themes, have been highly stylized versions of Paul Gill images.

A short bio on his website says it best:

" A native of the Arizona desert, Paul’s photographs have appeared on the cover and pages of Arizona Highways magazine, calendars and books along with Natures Best magazine and many scenic publications, calendars and books as well as displayed in fine art galleries. Paul received his bachelors of fine arts from Arizona State University and had worked as a art director for 17 years. before turning all of his attention to photographing the grandeur of nature."

Paul Gill
Photographer











Official website:
http://paulgill.photoshelter.com

Below is the website for the book "Wild in Arizona" by Paul Gill and Colleen Miniuk-Sperry.   I HIGHLY recommend this book.  It is a great resource for everyone, whether you are interested in photography, or if you are a painter looking for amazing spring blooms! Click below:
http://www.wildinarizona.com/index.htm

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/paulgillphoto


Below are Paul's responses to my "creativity" questions...

 
1) What personal habits do you have that you feel make you more creative?

Previsualization is the key for me to take elements that I have seen from a location or subject matter and find a story of what it is I want to say about it. I then can create a image in my head making decisions about time of day and light direction to tell the story. Sometimes I will remember past images I have seen and will try and think of a ways to change the image to fit my vision. This is always a driving force to get me to a place where I want to create, funny thing is I almost never find that previsualised image but it do’s influence how and what I see.

2) Who are the creative artists, in any field, that inspire you the most?

I was originally inspired by Maxfield Parish and his great sense of light. My photography is inspired by the Father of near-far David Munch and Tucson's own Pulitzer prize photographer Jack Dykinga both of whom I have had the great honor to photograph with in my earlier years. 

3) What do you do when you are not feeling creative?  Or - how to you get yourself back to a point where you are feeling creative?

To be inspired I try and place myself into beautiful light locations and that triggers the creative spark but that's not always possible so to start creating I will make that first image this helps me get in touch with my surroundings and I will start seeing line shape and light, which leads to finding compositions that I can come back to when the optimal light is on them. If nothing is working I will stop trying to force it to happen then come back latter and take that first step by making an image. 

4) What are some creative outlets that you enjoy outside your own respective creative field? 

Music is always my catalyst with upbeat positive tunes to pump me up before a shoot and relaxing background sounds to slow me down so I can concentrate on what is in front of me giving me the ability to focus on one subject at a time and break down a scene to its most simple components. This helps me block out the world around me.

5) For someone who has talent in a creative field, how would you suggest they go about converting that talent into something original - something that stands out from the crowd?

We all have distinctive visions and directions to move our images but sometimes seeing other artists work can help direct our own originality by filtering out what we do and don't like. I found that the more time I spent with professionals the more I developed my own look and personality to my imagery. And it was only then that I was able to explore and experiment with the talent I have which looks nothing like the photographers that originally inspired me. 

For someone just starting out in the creative field and not sure about their direction I like the book: 

Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative. Austin Kleon 

I wish this book was out when I was just starting out.

 

           (This image, "Ponderosa Bloom" is featured in the permanent collection of the Smithsonian)

 http://paulgill.photoshelter.com



 www.neilmyersart.com

Blinkers for an Artist

This week I am working on a new painting of Elephant Head Rock, a large formation in the Santa Rita Mountains just north of Tubac, AZ.  Yesterday I was at Cobalt Fine Arts in Tubac, painting in gallery for the Tubac arts festival.  A gloomy morning with snow on the ground gave way slowly to sunshine and a beautiful, cool day for the festival - which put smiles on the faces of most of the festival goers.

What I wanted to talk a bit about in this blog was something that has come up again and again in conversation with artists and collectors; and that's originality.  Of course the seeking of originality is as old as the arts - and I do not pretend to cover new ground with it, rather only to share a bit more and maybe shed a little light.

For some time Bobby Lee Krajnik and I talked yesterday about originality in the arts, and she mentioned something that I found very interesting.  She said that she had taken some workshops here and there, and heard some curious comments from instructors.  One instructor who saw her work told her that he didn't want to change her style and work that style out of her.  He felt that she had clearly arrived at something distinct, and he didn't want to change it by bending her too much to the instructor's will.  Bobby Lee also relayed that another instructor had told her that frequently artists will take course after course and so many workshops that whatever instinct for personal style they had before gets diluted, and in the course of being affected by the styles of work demonstrated by the instructors - they never really find a personal style. 

I shared with her what I have said to some other trusted people who were interested in how I devised the look of my own works; I told them that I do the reverse of taking courses and critiques and bouncing ideas off other artists.  I put on blinkers and work like a monk.  I try as hard as possible to shut out every other opinion of every other kind of art ever - and I try to answer the question: "How would I paint this scene?"  Bobby Lee and I pretty much agreed that too much input from other artists allow them into your head, and at some point, if you don't clarify where your influences are coming from, you yourself are not painting - you and some other people are painting.

Of course, we all have our influences.  When I look at other artist's work, I look primarily at Van Gogh and my friend Jean-Claude Quilici.  I too glean something from those who came before me.  I have found that other artists are wonderful in helping you learn the materiels needed to get certain effects, and with some of the kind of shop talk tips that are useful in the arts.  But as regards to style, I still think that is a personal search - instruction can teach you a certain skill set.  Style is a product of self reflection.  It is not easy...

So my suggestion, if anyone might bother to ask - is that if you are one who likes to take courses, keep them in perspective in as much as they can increase your skill set and perhaps give you personal time with an excellent artist.  But I would also suggest that you construct a kind of art that has a style that is built on your own self reflections - and visions that do not belong to anybody else.

So yes, spend some time shading and learning how to paint that eye, or head, or tree - but spend a little time dreaming.  Spend some time, and a little paint and canvas, on that vision that is only yours.  That thing only you can create - and only your neglect can supress. 

www.neilmyersart.com

http://bobbyleekrajnik.blogspot.com/

Paris is for (Art) Lovers

This week I am gearing down a bit and retouching some works finished earlier in the year.  Most of the paintings for my January show at the Marshall-LeKAE Gallery are finished, and new paintings have just recently been delivered to Cobalt Fine Arts in Tubac.

However I did want to write a few lines about our recent trip to England and France.  Last month my wife and I decided to take the opportunity to visit England, where my wife's brother is currently living and working, and use that as a chance to see as much of London as possible - as well as to pay a quick visit Paris for a few days.

When it comes to art, I am a little firm in believing that you haven't even begun to get a taste for the greatest art out there, until you have been to Europe.  So much of the legacy of the greatest art ever made can be found in France, England, Italy, Germany, Spain, and countless other locations on the continent.  As a student in Aix-en Provence, France in 1996 I was fortunate enough to be able to both see many of the works of the great Impressionist masters that I so adored, and to also see many of the places they painted.  As my friend, the artist Jean-Claude Quilici remarked in an interview - many of the places where the greatest artists painted have hardly changed.  Many of the villages, for example, in southern France, where Van Gogh, Cezanne, and others worked - many of them have been altered very little with the passage of time.  So it presents the unique opportunity for an artist to both look at the best European works, and see the places where they are made.

Foremost in my mind, always, is Paris.  Paris has been a nexus for world art for a very long time.  It was the mecca of the Impressionist movement.  And though many artists didn't live in Paris itself, the city was a source of both inspiration and exhibition opportunities, and was ringed with towns and villages that artists called home.

For me, coming back to Paris in 2012 was especially sweet.  In 1996 I visited the city twice, pretty much taking the opportunity to see as many galleries and museums as possible.  And also to meet up with my friend Jean-Claude Quilici.  I was 20 years old then, a boy from small town North Carolina.  Now I am 37, with a wife and son and another son on the way - and with an art career I could scarcely have imagined during those days when I haunted the Louvre and Musee d'Orsay back in 1996.  I was pleased to find, on a personal note, that it was not as hard as I thought it was to speak French as well as I did back then.  I remembered probably 88% of what I knew while I was living there, and got many compliments on how well I spoke.  I probably shock people there because the feeling you get from the French is that they don't expect ANY American to speak French.  It's always a pleasant surprise for them.

However during three days in Paris and the remainder of our days in London, I was reminded very directly why the act of pilgrimage isn't just a religious act - artists too, I think, must show a certain devotion to knowing their roots, and wherever possible, must go to the places where great works are, and where they were inspired.  Though I am a self-taught artist, I have always thought that it is very important that you learn from the best.  So rather than worry about some somebody who is a passing fad - I have always told myself, if you are going to be a painter, go learn from Monet, Manet, Renoir, Sisley, Pissarro, Van Gogh, Quilici, Gary Ernest Smith, Vlaminck, Derain, Cassatt, and many others.  Start at the top and try to tap into the best.

At one point during this trip my wife and I went to take our 3 year old son to the restroom at the Musee d'Orsay, and in order to get back to the place where you can start your visit, you had to pass through the rooms that were stacked wall to wall with all the great masters of Impressionism.  We walked right up to Manet's "Luncheon on the Grass" and I told my wife "If you can catch a glance, look around you.  You are looking at the best of the best."

London also was not to be missed, and there were indeed some wonderful artistic gems to be found there.  We visited the National Gallery, which also had an exceptional display of impressionist work - and I caught glances of other amazing works during our hurried visit there.  One of Van Gogh's original "Sunflowers" is there, and when we walked in the door I was carrying our 3 year old son Liam - and Liam pointed to Van Gogh's Sunflowers and said "That painting looks like one of your paintings da da!" (He calls me 'da da' instead of dad)  I've gotten some nice compliments on my work through the years; this one might have been one of the best.

Another gem which is a little off the beaten path is the Courtauld Gallery.  This gallery touts itself as one of the finest small art museums in the world, and I think that title is WELL earned.  You will find such masterworks there at Manet's "Bar at the Folie Bergere", which was the last large Manet completed at the end of his life.  Van Gogh's self portrait with a bandaged ear was there also - which was very touching.  I told my wife that it was quite something than Vincent wanted to document even one of the worst moments...the self-inflicted mutilation of his ear.  He was so unsparing in his artistic view - even of himself.  It made me think of Monet painting his wife Camille on her deathbed.

So yes, if you believe in doing great work, or that you want to attempt to - you have to see the masters of Europe.  If you have to, see them at the best big-city gallery you can make it to, even in your own country.  (Here in the states, galleries like the National Gallery in Washington DC, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Met in New York come to mind)  But if you can see those great works, and get the added uplift of walking those same cobblestone streets and enjoying making those footprints - your work and your life will ever be the wiser for it.  Mine sure is....

www.neilmyersart.com

The Tao of Buckethead

"There are lots of different ways to get from the bottom to the top. It's kinda like digging a hole."
Buckethead

I've always said that I am interested in artists who are hard to categorize. It has seemed to me that if an artist is too easily pigeonholed, or too easily described, then they are frequently less original. This formula, I'm sure, has exceptions - but not that many. Some of you may know that about 1 inch below art in my own heart is music, and just like in painting - I'm always looking for musical artists who are very original and very hard to define. One of the foremost is the virtuoso guitarist Buckethead.

I saw a live Buckethead performance at the Rialto theatre in Tucson, just over a week ago. I found that when you mention to friends that you went to see a musician called "Buckethead" they immediately look at you like you are crazy! Yes, Buckethead has become world famous for wearing a Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket on his head - and a white mask that would make Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees feel very simpatico. There is humor in the character of Buckethead, and that's not to be missed. It's a temptation of the absurd, no doubt about it. But before you get a chance to laugh too much or write this guy off as a gimmick - listen to him play. He is truly stunning. One of the greatest guitarists I've ever seen. After hearing his show, I told friends "His mellow stuff is more mellow and more beautiful than anything you'll ever hear. His fast stuff is so fast it's hard to believe than a human can play like that, and do so with such accuracy and power. His funky / weird stuff can be a cacophony of the strangest sounds you've ever heard coming from a guitar."

A little research into the international man of mystery they call Buckethead will reveal that his name is Brian Carroll and that one of his mentors is the incredibly talented guitarist Paul Gilbert, of Racer-X, Mr Big fame. Though there is much left to the mysterious when you attempt to learn about Buckethead. He is perhaps one of the only performing artists today who has a personal mythology. Grew up in a chicken coop. Chickens scratched his face off, etc etc. He almost never speaks. When he does, he speaks thru a severed head mask he uses like a puppet head. Yes - it's all a bit out there. Maybe that's where creative artistry has gone these days - however, again, before you get too stuck on the trappings of Buckethead - listen to his playing. Then, the temptation to laughter goes away immediately, and you realize that this man is a deadly serious, talented musical artist.

While listening to Buckethead play in Tucson, I had the thought "there is another lesson of creativity; ie, you have to be THAT good to stand out from the rest." But it's not enough for me to keep repeating how good this guy plays - log on to youtube and check out some of the posted videos. There is even a guitar lesson with him talking, and demonstrating guitar moves that most players can only dream about.

It shouldn't be missed also that Buckethead played lead guitar for Guns and Roses for 4 years, and played on a number of songs on GNR's Chinese Democracy CD. Wikipedia has the count that he has released 32 studio CDs.

Perhaps the key to Buckethead is that you can't really figure him out. But he never ceases to be a curiosity for us all. We can also conclude that if he weren't such an amazing guitarist, the Bucket and mask would be the subject of ridicule, and I think it would be easier for people to dismiss him. However his guitar blistering abilities will continue to force people to think twice before they ascribe some kind of circus-freak sideshow disdain to him. You can't do that with this guy - because talent may come in unusual packages, like a chicken bucket and mask - but that talent deserves respect just the same.

http://www.neilmyersart.com/

The Music of the Doors, A Statement of Art

This week I have just finished a new painting of an orange tree dangling over Oak Creek in Sedona. A heavy, colorful piece that has all the peculiarity of one of my works - where even the water or the leaves give off the feeling of weighing a hundred tons.

Those who have read my blogs will know that I am a great appreciator of what seem to me to be true and powerful artistic statements, even if the aritsts in question are not oil painters or visual artists. I've long admired the Candyland-like fantasies of the architect Gaudi. And among a legion of amazing artists that I admire and respect are found countless musicians. One of which stands alone, The Doors.

The first and most obvious thing about The Doors is the persistence and the longevity of the music that they created. "Unknown Soldier" could tell the story of an American soldier in Afghanistan just as well as its implied references to soldiers and the militarism and violence of the Vietnam era. The cry "What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister?" that rings out in "When the Music's Over" could well tell the story of an oil-stained gulf coast beach today. It could well be a statement in agony over the destruction of so many irreplacable natural habitats on our planet.

Timelessness demonstrates the power of an artistic statement. Those statements that are too much a product of the time that they were expressed in tend to dissipate with the passing of that particular time. The music of the Doors is powerful because it is an inter-generational commentary by sensitive individuals, who were deeply concerned with the art of what they were saying. Some regard Jim Morrison as an American poet - and I share this feeling. Though it should not be overlooked that Robbie Krieger wrote some of the Doors' best known songs, most notably the immortal "Light my Fire." If you read Morrison's published notebooks and poems, such as "Wilderness" and "The American Night", then you realize that his sensations and words were not always a product of the rational, but in the images that they created, powerful visions were let loose on the consciousness of those who read them in print - and those who heard them in Doors concerts. Morrison was reported to have said that "real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities."

Frequently, when I allowed myself to think about my own paintings in a deeper way - I articulated in my mind a dual standard that I always wanted to strive for. That standard was beauty and originality. I think the Doors and their music also lines up nicely with this idea of a creative aspiration. Of course many of the lyrics and sentiments in the music of the Doors were dark, even darkened Dionysian visions of America and our reality. But I don't count that as ugly - I think that's beautiful. Disturbing images, or even disturbing songs can stir the mind to beauty just as much as an any other cliche of beauty can. And songs like "Summer's Almost Gone" as well as "Crystal Ship" are indeed quite beautiful on the surface. It has seemed to me that the poignant words of Morrison, and the carnavalesque feeling of Ray Manzarek's organ went hand in hand in making songs that could range you for the depths of joy, sadness, confusion, even apocalyptic sensations.

What does the music of the Doors say to artists of all varieties? Primarily, I think it drives home, with punishing insistence, the reality that there really is NO substitute for originality in the creative arts. When you realize how much timeless substance exists in the songs of the Doors, you realize that a true statement of creation - as I've mentioned above, is timeless and inter-generational. So if you wish to hang your hat with the gods of the creative arts - it should be obvious that you ought to aim for the timeless and the original. Take a lesson from the Doors, and the fact that we are still talking about them today.

www.neilmyersart.com

Going Home

This week I have just finished up a lovely new painting called "Yellow Fields, Catalina Spring." After taking a hike with an old friend from college, and enjoying the particularly beautiful spring we've had here in Southern Arizona - I remembered standing by a trail and seeing what looked like a sea of yellow and gold poppies glittering in the sun. And I had the impression in my mind of just solid blocks of yellow - without reference to the thousands of individual poppies that made up the view. An overall effect of yellow settled on my vision and I thought it could be painted that way. I'm quite pleased with the result, though it is perhaps a bit more abstract than some of my other paintings of the same areas.

The other big news is that my wife and son and I are all getting ready to go back to North Carolina this Thursday. It has been around three and a half years since we have visited, and in that time I have not seen anyone from the North Carolina side of my family, except my mom and grandmother. It's going to be a lot of fun to introduce them to our son, who most of them have not met, and show him around the places where I grew up. I was explaining to him what green grass was the other day - telling him that it only grows in Arizona in places were there is sufficient water, usually irrigation. "Where daddy grew up, it grows everywhere!" I told him...a point largely lost on my busybody 1 year old.

One of the reasons for our visit is that I will be recieving the "Rising Star Award" from the alumni association of Lenoir-Rhyne University in Hickory, NC. I was a student at Lenoir-Rhyne and have my degree from there - and I had a wonderful four years of experiences that have always left me holding Lenoir-Rhyne in great esteem. So it is a fine compliment to receive an award from the University, and I am looking forward to visiting there again. I will also be donating a painting called "Rhyne Building, through the Trees" that will ship to Lenoir-Rhyne a little later in the summer to be featured at a spot on campus that is yet to be determined.

It is a funny feeling getting back to visit one's roots. For 11 years I have lived outside of my home state of North Carolina, and to be honest - life being what it is, there has been very little in me that looks back. Life, to me, always seemed to be primarily focused on where you are at the time - and for the years that we've been in Arizona this has been our reality. But still there is something you understand instinctively when you go back to the places where you once were; when you see the old high school football field where you watched Friday nite games. When you see the parks and places YOU played when you were a kid. When you see pink dogwoods blooming and remember climbing the trees. When you hear the soft southern drawl of the people from North Carolina and realize that you are back among your own. It can't help but be something understood, because I guess even the trees understand the roots and the ground that they came from.

Sometimes it's not lost on me that I have been the oddball son who disappeared into the American West! I think of the untold thousands who saw their family members get in wagons or on horses and make their way out to gold fields, ranches, and all manner of wild and open ranges. I have seen so many amazing things in my life and I wouldn't change any of it. Being from small town North Carolina was crucial in one particular way; that is, it made me intensely curious about the outside world. To other people, the small town life is more about comfort and familiarity and that's all they really need and that makes them happy. To me, on the other hand, it only made me want to know about the wider world.

So here is a toast to the Tarheel state and all the family and friends we are looking forward to seeing again. And OF COURSE I will have my camera ready, always on the lookout for a new landscape that I can paint.

As I sign off I do want to send condolences to my own extended family - we lost our uncle Brian Walters on the 22nd of April. Brian was a good man and he will be greatly missed.

And as that Bon Jovi song went - "Who says you can't go home?"

www.neilmyersart.com

It's Now or Never...And it Always Has Been!

This week I am working on a new painting of Courthouse Rock in Sedona, AZ. My wife and I visited Sedona for our 10 year wedding anniversary in October, and we had a chance to do some wonderful hikes and take our little son Liam along with us. For years I have been a little angry with myself that we'd always just driving through Sedona on the way to Flagstaff, but never really spent much time in Sedona or visited it's best sites. So this time we got it right, and it's no hollow irony because thats kind of thing is exactly what I was thinking about as a subject for this blog.

I remember a quote from Socrates that I read in college - he said something to the effect that the needs of the body always get in the way of true enlightenment. As I remember the context of the quote, Socrates actually meant the need for food, sleep, and shelter, basic things. And the seeking of those things took significant time away from reflection and / or the achievement of great things with the mind. After the year that I have had, with the discovery of the tumor in my back in late June, and the subsequent recovery process after surgery - I have thought about this a lot, and found myself wondering to what extent physical setbacks affect all of us, and keep us from grabbing hold of our dreams.

This question I floated to myself came right back at me just a few weeks ago, when my mom called. She sounded exhausted, and the tone of her voice told me that something was going on and it wasn't good. Of course your heart races when it's your mother - or anyone you love for that matter - and she told me that she had been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, or R.A. as we commonly know it. She had had a lot of aches around the different joints of her body, and most especially nagging pain in one of her feet. She also told me that prior to the diagnosis, she was fearful that she was getting depressed - only to learn later that the intense feeling of depression is yet another symptom of R.A. Of course, we had a number of conversations about what to do from here, with me peppering her with questions for her doctors about her quality of life, and what could she physically expect down the road. But underlying all this, and it wasn't lost on my mom, was that she wanted me to know because, with her diagnosis, we now know that R.A. runs on BOTH sides of my family. My Grandfather on my dad's side had R.A. He was a very heavy drinker and had told family members that it was the only thing that numbed his pain. Of course in the years when he was alive, there was probably very little else BUT drinking that one could do. And we know that though my father and his brother do not have the disease, both of their sisters do. And now on the other side of the family, my mom as well.

Now of course only a selfish person would get lost in the "What does this mean for me?" question, but my mom put all this together immediately after her diagnosis, and wanted me to know because this serious condition is now, we know, on both sides of my family. My mom is 54 years old, and I am 34, so though there is an age gap - we are not talking an astronomical number of years. I had to ask myself, if R.A. were in my future, what does that mean for the here and now?

When you think of these things it goes without saying that you risk stumbling over a million overused cliches. That's why I thought of the title "It's Now or Never...and it Always has Been". Because its just true. Every one of us is guilty of banking a little bit on time. If we are 30 we say to ourselves "well I'm not 40 yet", or if we're 40 we say "I'm not 50", and so on and so on. Yet I keep thinking that we could only benefit by a redoubled effort to live in the here and now, and never to take one single moment for granted. No cliches necessary. We really, truly don't know what hazards lie in our bodies, or out there in the world waiting for us. And because we don't know, every ounce of experience should be squeezed from this day, today.

On a Monday in late June of this year, as some of you know, I had a call from a neurosurgeon telling me that I had a sizable tumor on my spinal chord. I learned all this on a Monday, and was going to be rushed to surgery on Friday of that same week. That Tuesday, I sat down to sketch out a large painting of the Gaudi cathedral in Barcelona, Spain - the "Sagrada Familia". I did it partially in anger at myself. I had been wanting to paint this amazing structure for two or three years. Over and over again it got put off so I could work on more conventional subjects that I was known for. But that Tuesday I made a promise to myself, that I would never put off things I love so long. I had all the irrational thoughts one might have just before surgery, like "If I never wake up from the anesthesia, I will have never painted that damned cathedral!" So I took that first step in keeping the promise to myself, and I am happy to report that the finished "Sagrada Familia" painting will be debuted at my December 10th show at the Tansey Gallery in Tucson.

And now, as I think of the promises I must keep to myself and my loved ones - I find myself thinking of those old photos of the painter Renoir, taken when he had begun to suffer severely from arthritis. His knuckles were huge knots, and his fingers were curled up underneath. Still he strapped his paintbrushes to his hands, and made some very beautiful works in his later life. R.A. is not the end of my mom either, and for her, like so many, the question is what to do now in order to have the best quality of life down the road.

Renoir probably would have told us, that down the line we might ALL be strapping our brushes to our hands, for one reason or another; but there is no reason that we can't still make great works. My mom, Paula Shores, still has many great works in her - of that I'm sure. And she has taught me that, no matter what, the NEXT "Sagrada Familia" ought not have to wait three years to be put on canvas.

Here's to my mom, and all the moms out there - little does it know, that R.A. doesn't stand a chance against a feisty little Southern lady. :)

www.neilmyersart.com

Art & Pain

This week I am working on a sketch for a new painting in my "Giants of the Desert" series. When I am out in a landscape I often look for stands of Saguaro cacti that are visually powerful, which set a strong image in the landscape. While walking in a field where there were no trails, I stumbled across just such a stand of Giant Saguaros on the Sutherland trail at Catalina State Park, and have set out to paint them.

This week I also wanted to take this chance to thank all my dear friends and collectors who have chimed in to wish me well as I have been trying to facilitate a recovery from my back ailments. In all honestly, I ended up getting so sick from my medications that I took myself off all of them two weeks ago - and to my own surprise, I feel 75% better! I am still struggling with some issues, but the improvement is significant. This week I also found myself thinking of a gentle rebuke from my wife; when she mentioned that I talk about my ailments too much! After thinking about it, I had to admit that she was probably right. But as I was kicking myself for such negligence towards my friends and their own lives...the reason WHY occurred to me immediately. I remember once telling my wife this scenario; imagine that every ten seconds a little creature in your shoe bit you on the foot. For days, months, weeks, even years - sure as clockwork, this little monster bit your foot. Naturally your attention span would be ruined. It would be hard to have a conversation. It would be hard to be fully present in the moment. It would be hard not to fear the future if again and again you got bit. So it seems to me that a chronic pain issue is much like that - it forces the person suffering this situation to be too much IN themselves...always turning the problem over in their minds, always waiting for the next bite. Always dreading the inevitability of it. But hers was a fair rebuke, and I accept the criticism openly.

Of course when I am thinking about art, I also got to thinking a lot about art and pain. One of the most poignant examples of this, we all know, is the struggle of Van Gogh, which is well known to most people. It always seemed to me that what Vincent did which is so incredibly heroic, was that despite all the turmoil in his personal life, his own battle with insanity, poverty, loneliness, lack of love, and art in general - he somehow managed to internalize all of that turmoil, and when it exited him thru his brushes, the resulting canvases were some of the most beautiful expressionist works done by anyone. I try to fathom the extent of his suffering and it boggles the mind - but it only boggles when one realizes that despite everything, Vincent created beautiful works that were full of energy, heat, passion, and a love of the beauty of the world. How many desperate individuals, locked in mental facilities around the world could find it in them to still create such breathtaking beauty? Perhaps more than we know...but it is only in the acknowledgement of this that we can appreciate Vincent's triumph over pain. True, the waves did crash in over him eventually - but he stood the force of the tide, internally and externally, for a long, long time. Long enough to leave a body of beautiful work, and many of the late ones especially - extracted from pain and re-rendered beautiful in the world. That, my friends, that is an accomplishment!

But, as I have discussed in earlier blogs, Van Gogh's case is not exactly unique in art. Just this week I saw a fantastic documentary on the abstract artist Mark Rothko, called "Rothko's Rooms". What was most interesting about Rothko is that, after many years of struggle, he did experience the taste of true success in the later part of his life. However the struggle that was integral in his work remained. He himself said that a sense of the tragic notion of the image was always present in his mind. When one begins to try to understand, in a worldly sense, why one still feels this strong sense of tragic, even when your works are going for big money, the answer reveals itself to be that the tragic, for Rothko, was a certain state of mind that could not be affected by anything external to it. So it would not be changed by success or the vestiges of it. And when one looks long and hard at the late, dark works of Rothko, notably some of the Seagram's murals and the black works that went into the Rothko Chapel - a real sense of beauty and subtle tragedy does emerge. As if the artist were making works that were the visual and emotional equivalent of the universe before the big bang. Perhaps it should be surprising that an artist, so much IN his own mind as Rothko was - should end his own life, much as Van Gogh did. Even I know that the struggle to create has a tendency to hollow out a person.

It could be said, perhaps, that struggle and art are the same thing. The attainment of great images does not generally deliver itself on a silver platter. Rather it is always in front of you as you go chasing after it. The thrill of the chase is enough for some people. For others, the thing must be captured to be enjoyed and expressed. But you go on after it because you don't know what else to do. Most of us know we can't turn back now. We are too far down the road - so we struggle on, with bad backs - sometimes with unhealthy minds - to try to shove it all aside for a deep breath of beauty.

http://www.neilmyersart.com/

Putting the Brushes Down in Order to Pick Them Back Up

This week, after a lot of struggles and a lot of fits and starts, I have finished a new 24 x 30 of the Abbey of Senanque, in France. This is one of the beautiful scenes of France, a country full of amazing subjects for paintings -with the old abbey nestled between green hills, and fields of lavender glowing in perfect rows of purple and violet.

However, I have to write a note to all my friends, family, and collectors to let you all know that I have decided to go on a very "low-work" hiatus from painting. This is my first real slowdown in work since 2003. As some of you guys may know, I have been struggling for years with lumbar-spinal arthritis. Recently I have had to admit that this chronic condition has taken so much from me that I am at risk of losing or ruining some of the most important people and enjoyments in my life. It is not my intention to bore all of you with some long litany of medical gripes. Lord knows, we've all had our problems and I happen to believe that most people don't really find a long medical confession that interesting...however I am also a believer that most of us can handle a little more truth than we are used to getting. So for all of you who want to know, I'll briefly tell you my situation.

After years of intermittent back trouble, I began to have severe problems sleeping in 2006. At first I could take an aspirin or two in the middle of the night to deal with it. Then that stopped having any effect. What was happening was that I was getting such pain in my back when I lay down flat, that it was waking me up and preventing restful sleep. Naturally, I was utterly exhausted, and the wear and tear began to show. I tried countless cures and remedies, conventional and unconventional. Acupuncture, massage, chiropractic treatment - medications and more medications. And still the problem has persisted - and has, in fact, gotten worse. Every night has been an agony of burning needles of pain, sharp and endless, coursing up the middle of my lower back. Other times I lay there in misery with dull, sore aches - as always, unable to sleep.

Recent tests have revealed that I have two bulging discs in my back, a herniated disk, and significant arthritic degeneration in the facet joints of my back. Friends who have not seen me in awhile have been shocked to find a skinny, hollow eyed version of me who limps and who stumbles and has bad balance. Now that I have lost a good deal of feeling in my right leg and some in my left foot, I have committed to an intensive course of physical therapy and rest, to try to rehabilitate the multiple, horrible problems with my back. This is what the neurological specialists have advised me to do.

So, the plan for the next 3 to 4 months is to take a very "low-work" schedule to focus on physical therapy and to be with my family, most notably my new 1 month old son Liam. If I can work myself into some kind of acceptable shape, I plan a full return to work in mid-summer. (Don't worry Jared, you'll still get your Catalinas painting, but it may take a little bit more time to complete :)

At the moment there are still an adequate number of paintings in all 3 of the galleries where I show work. And there are a handful that are drying and will soon be made available. After I finish the next commission piece I am working on, any further commissions or special projects will be given a realistic time frame for completion in coordination with the rehab of my back. I also plan to work, whenever possible, to complete the "Fire in the Rocks" book project, and will keep you all updated when it's available. My website will continue to be maintained and updated, so please don't hesitate to visit.

So, to all my wonderful friends out there who have supported me and encouraged me thru this very painful struggle, I love you guys and appreciate every ounce of your support. To my collectors and friends at the galleries, rest assured that I am not hitting the stop button...rather I'm gearing down to 2nd and will be driving in the slow lane for a few months.

My thanks to everyone - here's to a recovery of health, and to the next batch of canvases that will be waiting for a blazing rush of energy.

http://www.neilmyersart.com/

Trying to Make it in the American Arts Scene in a Tough Economy

This week I am working on a large study of a Saguaro that was photographed at the Naranja town site, near where I live in Oro Valley. This piece promises to be one of a line of studies that I've done, featuring a large saguaro as a central point - a kind of consideration of our most iconic Southern Arizona image.

I thought that this week I would write about a subject most of us artists know pretty well right now - and that is how to try to succeed in these times of crisis.

I think that all artists must be honest with themselves and admit that when homes are being foreclosed on, jobs are being shed in the thousands, and many families are struggling just to cover medical bills and meet basic necessities - art is, naturally, one of the last things on their minds. Art is something that one has the luxury of enjoying only if the essentials of life are taken care of. And so I think that most artists must confront this issue and be ready for maximum flexibility in these leaner times.

Thankfully, I have been lucky in the fact that my own work is doing as well as ever. Sales in the early months of this year have been amazing, and I can only be grateful for the wonderful collectors who continue to buy my work and keep ME in the studio working. I have found that some essential things were necessary for keeping interest high, and for those artists who are curious, I'll share what's worked for me so far.

First of all, you have to be open to negotiate with the clients for discounts. Most luxury items like paintings are going to require this right now whether we like it or not, so you must be flexible if the client requires it. Back in October of last year when the full brunt of the credit crisis emerged - I emailed all 4 of the gallery directors that I work with and gave them a maximum possible leeway in cases where they were able to negotiate prices. Especially on larger paintings which have a higher price point. And I found that if the gallery directors and owners were quickly able to negotiate prices more freely, then they could secure the sale more easily without having to call me and ask if it was ok.

Second, my suggestion would be to think VERY hard before you raise prices in this economy. People are getting pinched hard - and it would be a bad move for sure if a painting or work of art was almost within someones range and the artist unnecessarily moved the price upward and lost sales because of it. In the current climate, the artist might have to be content with having his or her work HOLD its value, until better conditions made price increases more feasible. Another reason I would caution against this is because that if the economy got drastically worse, then you could potentially become even more out of reach for collectors of more middle class means.

Third, I think we all have to pay hard attention to our expenses with advertising. I found that one thing that has helped me immensely was the Arizona Collector's Guide. In late summer last year I bought a page ad in the Arizona Collector's Guide and it has paid good dividends for me during the entire exhibit season. I would strongly suggest this for an artist. If your area has a state collector's guide, as I know we have in Arizona and New Mexico, then you should try to buy an ad in it. The long shelf life of such things will work to your advantage. Of course advertisements in major magazines are helpful also, and I have found this to be true - but you have to allow for the fact that most of them have a shelf life of only one month. However you must remember that you typically can negotiate better deals with magazines if you run a series of ads, which is a possibility if you have the revenue to do so. From magazines, I've had the best results from ads in Southwest Art Magazine. SWA is one of the best magazines for connecting with collectors in the American Southwest. They also do a good job of fairly representing all forms of Southwestern Art, from the traditional, to the expressionist, to the more experimental work, and they have an interactive website that is easy to use for both artists and collectors.

Fourth, now this is a hard point to concede if you are an artist, but I'm going to be honest about it; this may not be the best time to go radical. Of course, all us artists are by nature people who love to experiment. But I think that for survival sake, you must temper that urge a little bit in these times. I don't think this is a time to do something that your clientele can't relate to. I know that I am working hard to find new images to paint within the contexts of the kinds of work that I am known for. This means a lot of Arizona and New Mexico, but that's ok - I love these places. I was quoted in Tucson Home Magazine as saying "I like to paint things people know in ways they've never seen before", and that's even more true now. I can only liken this to a concert performer agreeing to play most of the greatest hits for the crowd - I think a visual artist will probably do better to stay closer to their "greatest hits" themes right now.

Fifth - this is the greatest lesson of all: do great works! It bears repeating...DO GREAT WORKS! That is the first-best thing an artist can do. You must make your works as strong or stronger than they've ever been, so as to assuage the collector of any doubts he or she may have in these rough times. That is to say, make them fall in love with your work - hopefully make them feel so passionate about it that not even they let the doubts creep in. That is your one greatest move. That is the thing which is always in your control if you are an artist. So now is the best time ever to recommit yourself to doing great works. I told another Tucson based artist this and said "at least if they walk out of the gallery without buying a painting, we can make it bug them like crazy (in a good way) until they get something at a later date."

I offer these things as suggestion only. There is no single path to success in these times, and each person must find what works for them and do that to the n'th degree.

I also would like to reiterate to some politicians who see the arts as a waste - that, as another columnist said "arts jobs are American jobs". I have heard this idea being floated by nationally known political figures that funding for such wonderful organizations as the National Endowment for the Arts is unnecessary - and this literally makes my skin crawl. We have such a wonderful tradition in America of brilliant painters, writers, musicians, actors, photographers, documentary filmmakers, sculptors - and countless other artists - that if they were to be removed from American life, our tough days would be even more dull and infinitely less enjoyable. In this time where we hope we are all doing the right things to lift our people and our economy - American Arts deserve to be EQUALLY lifted, and not to be left behind. Besides, when I sell a painting, the arts supply store benefits, the UPS courier service benefits, taxes are paid on the sale, as well as income taxes by me, and the gallery and the artist and the UPS driver and the associates at Aaron Brothers art supplies and the writers and editors of the magazine where I advertise - and countless others are all employed and productive citizens because of it.

Lastly, as I sign off I would like to send heartfelt condolences to the family of actress Natasha Richardson. Her loss is a terrible tragedy for her husband Liam Neeson, her sons and her family. With her departure we have lost a wonderful actress, and a beautiful woman of breathtaking elegance, grace, and humor. Her films and performances will live on after her, and her contributions as an artist will remain with us.

http://www.neilmyersart.com/