The Artist's Life

Just What Is a Consultation, Anyway?

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 14 May 2013 03:47:00 GMT

When my Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson, gives an oil painting workshop, one of his favorite aspects -- as well as that of his students -- is when participants bring in their artwork for Steve to look at and make comments about.

"I could spend an entire workshop doing this," he's told me. "We both get so much out of it."


		It's a balancing act -- asking for feedback and accepting it. But if you do the dance right, you'll learn some valuable new moves. Grace by Steve Henderson.

When you find a fine art oil painting artist and arrange a consultation concerning your artwork, you are essentially looking for what Steve does in the workshop: you show the artist your work and he tells you where it's good, where it's not so good, what your strengths are, and where you could use some improvement.

This isn't necessarily easy to listen to -- and even as you listen to it you must be aware that it is the opinion of one person -- but if you check your ego in at the door and you've done your homework in choosing the artist to review your work, you can find incredible benefit in a consultation that analyzes your oil painting technique and narrative approach.

Thanks to modern technology, you and the artist do not have to be in the same town. You simply e-mail images to the artist (do, do, do take good photos), and he or she gets back to you via e-mail, instant messaging, phone, or Skype. The latter three can be in "real time," but even e-mail can be done on the spot if the two of you make an appointment to write back and forth.

One session of reviewing two to 10 of your works will give you a different perspective, some ideas on where to go next, and an outsider's dispassionate view. Not a bad return on the investment.

--Carolyn

Art Consultations -- Jump Starting Your Next Painting

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 07 May 2013 03:38:00 GMT

Taking private lessons to learn how to paint is a wonderful thing, but if you feel you cannot afford them, an art consultation, in which you show another artist, a dealer, or an art appraiser your work and ask for their opinion -- which you agree to pay for, naturally -- is a valid means of moving ahead in your painting career.

Sometimes, when you feel that you're stuck going nowhere, a little jump is all it takes
to make the next big splash. Reflection by Steve Henderson.

As I mentioned in Affording Private Art Lessons, both consultations and painting technique lessons can fit into your budget if you recognize that there are lots of great artists out there, and not all of them have big, big names. Those smaller names, who can still be quite good, are worth approaching for advice and consultation, and if they don't offer the service already, they may consider doing so because you ask them.

They will also probably offer the consultation for a reasonable price.

And what is a reasonable price? Think "contractor" or "auto mechanic," whose hourly rates are in the $40 to $80 range, and you're in a price range that's fair for the both of you. If you talk to an artist, you will get information on technique; if you make an appointment with a gallery director or appraiser (be aware, however, that you will be unlikely to get the services of an appraiser for that contractor or mechanic rate), you'll get more on marketing. Determine what it is you're looking for and you'll know the direction in which to go.

What you do not want to expect, however, are "secrets" or supposed "secret" knowledge of how the artist in question produces what he paints. In the first place because there are no such things as "secrets," and in the second place, if there were, it would be remarkably rude to ask another person to impart them.

Next time -- just what is a consultation, anyway?

--Carolyn

Getting a Second Opinion That Counts

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 03:29:00 GMT

Friends and family are wonderful, but when it comes to getting an honest, straightforward statement from them about what your fine art oil painting really, really looks like -- well, they're just so incredibly . . . nice. And nice doesn't help, in this case.


Friends and family are just terrific people, but they're not always the best resources when we want an honest, impartial opinion on our art. Dandelions by Steve Henderson.

If you've read the art instruction books on oil painting techniques and watched the learn how to paint videos and taken the classes and chatted in the forums and you're still wondering where to go with your art technique, maybe it's time to talk to another artist.

In earlier articles we discussed the option of taking lessons from another artist -- one whose work is something that you're reaching for yourselves -- but another option on the table is an art consultation, in which you send a number or works to your artist of choice, he or she reviews them, and then you listen, or read, while he/she gives you feedback.

Thank to the Internet, e-mail, and Skype, you can connect with an artist who lives clear across the country, or even the ocean, from where you do.

The first thing to do when setting up an art consultation with an artist is discovering if he or she offers this service in the first place. If there's a website, check it out; if the artist doesn't mention the service but you really like what he does and want his opinion on what you do, then use the 'contact' form -- most websites have them -- to ask the artist directly.

If the artist is offended by your effrontery, then this is probably not someone you want to work with. But it's highly likely that he or she won't be, and you know, you'll never know whether you ask.

Affording Private Art Lessons

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 03:22:00 GMT

When Steve, the Norwegian Artist, was a young boy, his parents sought out a local artist in his town and arranged painting instruction lessons -- people do this all the time with the piano, and yet when it comes to art, it seems so . . . impossible. But it's not. It all starts with finding an artist whose work you admire and asking the person for lessons -- which you, definitely, plan to pay for.

"I'll never be able to afford this," you moan.

Well, maybe, if the artist you're looking at is on the A-List of artists whose names are instantly recognized, and they're famous and all that.


		Sometimes, you just need a little guidance to straighten out your thoughts, or your hat. Beachside Diversions by Steve Henderson.

But there are plenty of truly excellent artists whose names aren't in the magazines, and the way you find these people is by wandering through your local galleries, or strolling around on the Internet, until you find someone whose art you like.

If the person is local, you can call or e-mail them and ask if they offer oil painting lessons. If they're across the country, don't despair, because it is possible to give and take lessons over the Internet -- we ourselves offer this option, receiving images of your work via e-mail, and then communicating back with you via e-mail, phone, or -- our favorite -- Skype.

And it's not like you're a kid again, signed up for years of endless piano lessons -- you may need one half-hour lesson to get you going, or you may want to set something up once a month for a year -- be up front with your artist of choice and see what the two of you can work out.

Either way, sometimes a little push is all you need, and a session, or two or three or four, with an artist who is producing work that you keep coming back to look at can make a tremendous difference in what you do the next time you stand at your easel.

--Carolyn

Compensating

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 03:56:00 GMT

Last week we talked about parallel parking a car -- or in my case, not parallel parking the thing -- and how, if we don't know a specific skill, we can frequently compensate by doing things another way.


It's not easy drawing the human figure accurately, and if you've tried and you've tried and it's just not happening, it may be time to ask for help. Aphrodite by Steve Henderson.

But sometimes, compensating doesn't work, and if you, in your artwork, have reached the point of frustration that you just can't draw a human figure drawing to look like something other than a space alien, of if your still-life paintings of flowers look dead, or whatever it is that is driving you to distraction, then it's time to admit that you don't know how to do this, what you've been doing up to this point isn't working, and it's time to move forward in the matter.

So, where do you move?

The initial solution is to take a painting instruction class, but there are lots of other options. My favorite, hands down, is finding an artist whose work you like and asking him or her if they will 1) teach you or 2) review your work and give some suggestions. The latter being called a consultation.

Before we move on, let me talk about that word "giving" back there, as in "giving some suggestions."

By all means, plan to pay this artist for his or her time; many artists offer classes on how to paint or how to draw, or portfolio reviews, and the best way to find out if the artist you're interested in does this kind of thing is to ask.

Can you afford this? Yeah, probably. We'll talk more about this in my next post.

--Carolyn

Turn Up the Temperature

johnandann@theartistsroad — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 03:57:00 GMT

What makes an object look three-dimensional? We use a variety of cues to give us this information: light and shadow, contrast, pattern, color, texture, scale, temperature and value, usually in combinations. Our ability to measure these different parameters and make a decision about the dimensionality and location of something in our field of vision is automatic and immediate - a product of millions of years of evolving visual sophistication.




Black and white and full-color versions of Monet's Regatta at Argenteuil, oil painting.

In drawing, we learn to create the illusion of form with value changes (light to dark), or chiaroscuro, using all the subtle changes in tone from black to the white of the paper. Having gained proficiency at chiaroscuro work, we quite naturally adapt our knowledge of values to our color work. But the world of colors is not just value-driven. It has an equal partner in color temperature. Temperature (warm to cool) can and does affect our perception of form. As the shape of any object turns away from the light source, it undergoes a temperature change. It may also display a value change, but in some situations, such as an overcast day, dusk, pre-dawn, or a dimly lit interior, light conditions are not intense enough to create significant value changes in an object. However, we are still able to perceive three-dimensional form partially because we can perceive temperature changes.

The Impressionists loved to exploit this effect. Temperature changes were an essential ingredient in their ability to create scintillating, light-filled canvasses. They thoroughly understood the power of temperature changes within a limited value range in reproducing the effects of sunlight. Cezanne and Monet especially, triumphed at these kinds of techniques, so much so that most people aren't aware of the missing values. See how these black and white conversions of their paintings reveal their mastery of temperature within a restricted value range.


Cezanne's Still Life with Bottles and Apples in black and white and full-color.

The best way to understand and learn how to use temperature instead of value to create three-dimensionality is to set up a simple still life. It must be noted that we can't ever get completely free of some small value changes. Because the nature of paint, unlike light, is subtractive, every time we mix two colors together (other than white), the paint mix darkens some. When we try to compensate for that value shift by adding white, we cool the temperature of the mix by the amount of white added. If we are trying to maintain a warm temperature with the mix, we are now fighting the process, and the paint will always win. The answer is to plan our temperatures so that the lightest, warmest color does not require white, and the rest of the object is painted cooler and very slightly darker as it turns.

This is one of the great secrets of the masters! Try this yourself and you'll be amazed at how easy it is to create a convincing three dimensional world from a limited value range. To see more on this subject, including two painting demonstrations of this principle, join us on The Artist's Road.

--John & Ann

Artists on Trial

Courtney Jordan — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 17:35:00 GMT

I'm so excited that I got my words just a little mixed up! There aren't any artists on trial, per se, but you as artists get a free trial to Artist's Network TV!

Starting April 11, take advantage of the FREE TRIAL Weekend at Artist's Network TV.

You can view any and all of the video workshops for a full 4 days from the comfort of your own home.

With over 250 videos to choose from, I'm sure you'll find something you'll enjoy!

Diagonal Parking for Those Who Can’t Parallel Park

Carolyn Henderson — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 03:49:00 GMT

Okay, I'm going to share with you my dirty little secret: I can't parallel park a car.

Well, I can parallel park a car as long as I've got three blank spaces, in a pinch two, and it helps that I drive a Honda Fit. But for the most part I'm willing to drive blocks out of the way and walk, or slip into a diagonal space, or let the Norwegian Artist drive when we're in the city and masterfully fit that hunk of metal (the car, not the Norwegian) into the allotted space.

In other words, I compensate for my lack of ability.

Lots and lots of space -- that's what I need when I parallel park.
Diaphanous by Steve Henderson of Steve Henderson Fine Art.

Ideally, I would learn how to parallel park, which is what our two youngest teenagers are doing with the Norwegian Artist this year before they take their licensing test, but that would mean hours of practicing with the Norwegian, and I'd really just rather spend the time knitting socks.

Because, compensating works.

It doesn't always, I know. If my problem involved driving skills, say, like the inability to make a right turn without banging into the curb, then I'd need to work on things, but if I can get by -- as I have for 35 years -- without parallel parking and I'm not hurting anybody and nobody's yelling at me, then I do, and focus my energy on difficult things that I need to learn and I can't compensate for.

So it is with learning how to paint. Some painting techniques you may never get -- something to do with color or brushwork or the ability to draw hands so that they don't look like elephant feet -- and you compensate, by never showing hands, for instance.

As long as this works, it works, and you develop your style by compensating around what you cannot do. The key is determining just how important the fine art painting technique you can't do is, and making a decision about it.

--Carolyn

Occupy Gagosian--Some Revolutionary Mutterings

Patricia Watwood — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 03:10:00 GMT

In December, I had the pleasure of going to a panel discussion with a few artist friends at The Teaching Studios of Art in Brooklyn. The Teaching Studios is a school run by my friend Rob Zeller--we went to school together at both the Water Street Atelier and at New York Academy. He's been doing great programming to cultivate an art community that is grounded in classical methods, but thinking and talking about art in a broader context, and looking to what the future of figuration will become. Many of my friends have been talking about it and listening to the discussion online, so I thought I'd share it with you.

Michael Gormley moderated the conversation, and made the statement that in contemporary life, "Finance is leading culture." I understood this to refer to the fact that many large art organizations and mainstream platforms are supported by big-moneyed donors, art business groups, corporations and advertisers. Most art coverage in the papers, put up on bus stops, and appearing on magazine covers all have a lot of vested financial interest behind them. The world of capitalism and the world of art are completely intertwined, and these days it seems that the corporate capitalist financial structure dominates control of the art world. Often, corporate branding and social status seem more salient than artistic merit. The art market these days is all about exchange value, and not intrinsic value.


Nocturne by Martin Wittfooth, oil on linen, 72 x 48, 2013.

I've been thinking a great deal about one comment from Martin Wittfooth that night that stuck in my head. (He does mythic and symbolic paintings of animals, birds, and flowers that I'd call Neo-Romantic and poetic.) Martin said, "I want a sacred space to view art in."

That really struck a chord. I've been talking to my artist friends, and when we are honest, we admit kinda hating the gallery world. Many galleries give you a cold-fish welcome that makes you feel like you are wearing the wrong clothes and all those Prada-heeled gallery girls clacking around look unnervingly dead inside. And no one gets a warm glow walking into a Chelsea gallery. Sometimes the art can get you there, but it's not enhanced by the setting or the fixtures that run it.

How very far the contemporary white cube gallery is from the sacred. The only thing holy there is commerce, man's conquest of nature (and other men), and where art and capitalism meet. The phrase "Occupy Gagosian" popped in my head, and made me chuckle. What would a sacred space for art really look like? What would Occupy Gagosian look like? How do the themes of the Occupy movement connect with our work? There's a common thread of yearning for humanism, sacredness, and individual (not corporate) empowerment for all the 99% of artists who can't equate the work they do with the way it is represented and parceled out to art galleries.

And the reactions we are churning up aren't new. The 19^th to 20^th century art revolution was about rejecting a bourgeois value structure that did not allow for true equality or opportunity. It worked to toss off the cumbersome weight of art history and its strictures, expressing the loss of 19^th-century belief structures like faith in a God-centered universe and our confidence in forward-thinking progress.

Now I think we are ready to turn over new (and reclaim a few old) ideas for the next century. Perhaps one important structural change in the art world would be a rejection of the corporate gallery-media-museum network that makes art and artists a commodity in a consumer world.

Lastly, I'll leave you with an opened ended list of words and phrases that percolated during the discussion. Words we like: mystery, beauty, meaning, ambiguous, intent, sincerity, imagination, sacred, human/ism, bespoke, integrity, craft, connection, universal, and value (intrinsic). Words we hate: revolution, rebellion, movement, renaissance, categorization, realism, illustration, irony, commercial, and corporate.

One of the themes for the evening was the urgency of representational artists developing a common vocabulary and doing a better job articulating our point of view in art-making. So, perhaps in these words or the ones that we 'reject' thoughts for collaboration and expansion of a new art world will come.

--Patricia

The Eyes Have It

johnandann@theartistsroad — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 03:44:00 GMT

We can never imagine a world without vision. Whether one works as a realist painter or abstract artist, the quality of our vision determines the ultimate appearance of the art that we make. As viewers of art, we can rarely know or consider if the art we are looking at is meant to be expressive of a particular style, or was produced by an artist with a vision problem or perhaps super-vision. Why would we? We can never see through another person's eyes, only the resulting expressions of their vision, good or bad.


The Rose-Way in Giverny by Claude Monet, oil painting, 1920-22.

Readers of The Artist's Road know that we are always interested in the science of vision and the brain, so when we found the 2009 book by Michael F. Marmor and James G. Ravin titled The Artist's Eyes: Vision and the History of Art, we had to share some of their fascinating research with you. Much has been written about the late oil paintings of some of the Impressionists, especially Degas and Monet, ascribing their increasingly gestural and dark paint-work to an intentional advancement into painterly abstraction, while waving off the evidence that both these artists had serious eye diseases that were progressing.

Degas had fewer problems than Monet, but his macular degeneration caused him to gradually lose sharpness of detail. This did not affect his colors, but as time went by, his lack of sharp vision led to his figures and portrait paintings becoming more impressionistic and his strokes coarser. Eventually, he could not make out facial features at all. By the turn of the century, Degas' visual acuity had fallen into the range of 20/200 to 20/400. This means that something 20 feet away appeared to him with the sharpness of an object 200 to 400 feet away.

By 1922, Monet's acuity had also fallen to 20/200 in his good eye, but he also had cataracts, of which he complained publicly. As the cataracts worsened, he could not perceive colors or values well, and his increasingly yellow-brown lenses led him to try to compensate by using ever more intense blues and reds. Finally, he resorted to reading the colors off the tubes and painting out of habit. He destroyed many of these paintings in frustration.


		Nympheas reflets de saule by Claude Monet, oil painting, 1916-19.

It is interesting to realize that if he was pleased by what he saw, then we (with normal vision) are not seeing what he intended. Although cataract surgery became available in the early 1900s, it was not reliable and did not always work. Monet delayed having surgery, perhaps put off by the unsuccessful surgeries of Mary Cassatt, who stopped painting after the second failed surgery blinded her. By 1923, Monet had one eye corrected, and his colors and detail came vividly back to life, allowing him to complete the large waterlilies for the Orangerie Museum installation.

How fortunate we are to live in a time when many of the eye diseases that plagued artists are more easily treatable and sometimes even reversed. In a real sense, advances in medical science walk hand-in-hand with advances in art, allowing mature artists to remain productive throughout their lives.

Please join us on The Artist's Road for more interesting and informative articles.

--John and Ann

A Little Good News

johnandann@theartistsroad — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 03:14:00 GMT

In a time when we often hear the arts being dismissed as unnecessary luxuries and when so many art classes in schools have been cut, it's nice to hear a little good news.


Portrait of Claude Renoir Painting by Renoir, 1907, oil on canvas.

A recent federal study of research data on the effectiveness of arts education shows, "When students participate in the arts they are four times more likely to be recognized for academic achievement, have higher GPA/SAT scores, and demonstrate a 56 percent improvement in spatial-temporal IQ scores. They show significantly higher levels of mathematics proficiency by grade 12, are more engaged and cooperate with teachers and peers, and are more self-confident and better able to express their ideas." The study found that these benefits are most pronounced in high-poverty, low-performing students and that these high-poverty students are being "disproportionately short-changed on arts education opportunities in their schools."

The good news comes from a small pilot program called the Turnaround Arts initiative. Taking the news from these studies seriously, a two-year public-private partnership has been developed between the President's Committee on the Arts and the Humanities, the Ford Foundation, the Herb Alpert Foundation, Crayola, NAMM Foundation, the Aspen Institute, Booz Allen Hamilton and the National Endowment for the Arts to bring training and resources to eight participating schools that have been nominated and selected based on need, opportunity, strong school leadership and a commitment to arts education.

We first became aware of the program from a New York Times article published on December 18th, 2012, which followed 40 seventh and eighth grade students from the Roosevelt School of Bridgeport, Connecticut on their private tour with artist Chuck Close of his exhibition at the Pace Gallery in Manhattan. The Roosevelt School is one of the eight schools in the Turnaround Arts experiment.

Close is most known for his seemingly photo-realistic portrait paintings created from a grid of squares, each filled with color strokes creating a perceived average hue and tone that, when viewed from a distance pull together to create the realistic image. Chuck Close suffers from what is referred to as "face blindness" (prosopagnosia), a disorder in which the ability to recognize faces is impaired, while other aspects of visual processing remain intact. He told the students that the only way he could remember a face is to break it down into tiny pieces similar to the squares that make up his artwork. He said, "Everything about my work is driven by my learning disabilities."

The Turnaround Arts initiative is providing high-profile mentors to help the schools within its program. We look forward to the follow-up evaluations of this preliminary two-year experimental project and hope that it may be continued and expanded to inspire many more students. As Chuck Close told the students at his exhibition, "Art saved my life."

For more interesting and informative articles, please join us on The Artist's Road.

--John & Ann

The Saga of the Socks Continues

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 04:41:00 GMT

In the last article, I discussed my distressing and difficult sock project (The Socks from Hell), and how I didn't enjoy the process at all, and the best thing about the whole thing was when it was over and the socks were on my feet (which almost didn't happen, incidentally).

So why, you ask me, did you start the project at all, if you were so incompetently able to manage it? Why not do something easier?

Good question, one I asked myself a few times, and one that painters and draftsmen and creative types of all kinds often ask themselves too. But the answer always wound up being this:

The project isn't too hard for you, dear.

Another restful, peaceful image to take your mind off of whatever is frustrating you.
Homeland 3, part of the Homeland series, by Steve Henderson.

I can knit socks -- I've got a whole drawer of them -- and while I can't do it with my eyes closed, I can do it while watching an action movie, which is pretty much the same thing.

The new technique I faced with the Socks from Hell (for you knitters out there), while challenging, was not beyond my ability, but it was a stretch (er, no pun intended), and I was up for that challenge. I knew that in order to meet it I would need to allow myself extra time, focused concentration, and the permission and expectation to make mistakes. I also limited myself to the one challenging technique, which was fortunate -- and wise -- because I managed to mess up on that one technique enough times that I had no room to mess up on another.

And upon completion, by golly I was much better at that technique, and I'll be able to incorporate it into another project without so much agony and ripping out of stitches.

If you find yourself painting with your eyes closed, or whipping out canvases while keeping up with Daniel Craig on the latest James Bond movie, maybe it's time to plan to frustrate yourself by learning how to paint with a new, different, potentially (and most probably) frustrating painting technique, and giving yourself permission to get really, really flummoxed.

You'll be pretty impressed with yourself by the end.

--Carolyn

The Socks from Hell

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 04:23:00 GMT

Those of you who have read me for awhile know that I'm big on this patience thing, even though patience is the least of my virtues. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if it's on my list at all, but I keep working at it, and perseverance is part of patience, even if it only begins with the same letter.

When things get tough and frustrating, I try to put my mind, and my attitude, in a
beautiful, serene place. Homeland 2, from the Homeland series, by Steve Henderson.

Speaking of perseverance, I recently finished knitting the most difficult socks I have ever encountered, so frustrating that 1) I contemplated giving up knitting (not really, truly, at the base of my soul, but yelling it aloud at the socks made me feel better) and 2) I found any possible excuse to avoid the project, to the point that the bathroom toilets were very clean indeed. (For the full story, check out The Socks from Hell at my Middle Aged Plague site.)

But you know what? I finished them, slipped them on my feet, walked around in them, and admired -- yes, admired -- their beauty, despite their many, many mistakes.

And in the process I accomplished several things:

1) I worked through the problems -- and there were a lot of them.

2) I didn't give up. (Don't underestimate this one -- if you continuously toss a painting canvas aside mid-way through and start over anew, without conquering what drove you nuts in the first place, you will be continuously tossing art canvases aside mid-way through and never figuring out where you went wrong with your painting techniques.)

3) I identified mistakes and fixed some -- the glaring ones that I kept trying to pretend I didn't see.

4) I identified mistakes and didn't fix others -- the ones that weren't so bad that they couldn't harmoniously coexist with me.

5) I became a bit more patient. Amazing.

--Carolyn

Seeking the Subject

Robert Reynolds — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 18:53:00 GMT

Nature provides a constant source of creative inspiration to all of us. But to capture its spiritual essence, one must first discover one's own emotional connection to the subject. It's that special "something" that grows out of each artist's personal involvement with his/her subject matter. Your philosophy will undoubtedly differ from mine and other artists, as well as the way of seeing and expressing your relationship to your subjects.


Vineyard Radiance II by Robert Reynolds.

Each of us is different and as artists we perceive our subjects in our own way; and that is a good thing. Subjects that hold no meaning to the individual can all too easily become little more than exercises in picture making; something that conveys little feeling or sincerity and shows no commitment.

Any subject, be it human, rocks, trees, still life or what have you, can be symbolic of something larger than it's self. When painting subjects with a definite meaning or relationship to my own life, I see a richness and emotional dimension in my painting that otherwise might not be there. The old saying is still relevant: "Paint what you know."

Ideally, as artists, we should strive to infuse the literal reality of what we see with perhaps a far richer reality of what we feel. The quest for originality when figuring out how to paint begins with personal, insightful components that aids us when embracing and interpreting our chosen subject. Does that resonate with you? Leave a comment and let me know what chosen subject calls to you.

--Robert

No, You're Not Pathetic

Carolyn Henderson — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 05:11:00 GMT

In a recent article I wrote, a reader commented about the "pathetic efforts" she/he, and other artists, make sometimes in the process of creating art. I understand what the reader is saying, at the same time that I vehemently oppose the concept.


		It's easy to overlook children as being unimportant, because they can't trade stocks or undergo diplomatic negotiations. But what a drab, sad place this world would be without them! Seaside Story inspirational poster, The Least of These is Great Indeed by Steve Henderson.

Yes, as ordinary people creating art, painting, and drawing, it is tempting to view what we do as unimportant, without influence, minor, and yes, pathetic -- so unlike the actions and output of Oprah, or Dr. Oz, or James T. Kirk. I mean, after all, if what we did were truly important, then we would be phenomenally well known, and everyone would want to know our every thought and emotion.

Sorry -- nope. "Well-known" and "Important" are not synonyms.

What you do, what you create, what you paint, is not, and never is, "pathetic," if you have put your heart, soul, mind, and effort into it. It may not be what you're trying to achieve, yet, and it may not fly off the easel before it's dry, but it's not pathetic.

"Pathetic" is thinking that you're somebody impressive simply because others know your name. "Pathetic" is putting half-effort into a project and expecting to be fully appreciated for genius. "Pathetic" is acting rudely toward the person bagging your groceries because she/he is serving you. "Pathetic" is treating beautiful people -- children, say -- like inconveniences because they say "Twis-mas" instead of "Christmas," because they can't make the "k" sound yet.

Paint. Create. Dream. Work hard. Analyze. Focus on the things you need to work on. Smile. Thank God -- or the Universe, or nobody in particular -- for your next breath. Delight in the color and texture of the medium in which you work.

And never, ever, consider what you do "pathetic."

--Carolyn