Ancient Artist: Developing an art career after 50

Breaking the Glass, Continued

Last Friday I came across a thought provoking post on Seth Godin's Blog about a beautiful glass sculpture that contains a clock stopped at 0:00.  The clock is real, waiting to start ticking.  But in order to start the clock you must break the fragile glass sculpture.  That was your choice.  You have something beautifully constructed, a work of art, but time will not start unless you "break" your comfort zone and be willing to start new in the unknown. 

Seth has a way with words, and in his post he asked "analogy, anyone?"

We receive messages all the time.  Sometimes, the message is so familiar to the messages we've received in the past we "tune it out" the way our kids do when we tell them to clean their rooms. 

And sometimes a message comes through that rings such a bell of authenticity within your personal psyche that you suddenly "get it."

This is one of those messages for me.

Although it seems logical that life should proceed in a linear fashion, with one accomplishment leading naturally into the next, more often it becomes a spiral.  Each rotation of "learning" comes back to the starting point and we are faced with the choice of standing there admiring our beautiful glass sculpture or breaking the glass.

Starting that clock requires that we "break" with the past, or safety, or the comfort zone we've created.  Maybe, like me, there is fear beneath the hesitancy.  What do I risk if I do this?

But turn the question around and ask yourself, what have I compromised in order to keep this security?

If you have compromised your artistic dreams, then you have no other choice but to lift that hammer.

Along the Old Post Road Painting Process

I have chronicled the painting process for versions one and two of "Along the Old Post Road" in a separate page.  You will see the link at the top in the right side column. 

version one is on the left and

version two is on the right.

Along the Old Post Road 1 @ Sue Favinger Smith
Along the Old Post Road 2 @ Sue Favinger Smith

Have You Ever Attended a Virtual Critique?

Invitation to Critique

When I was attending art classes, I dreaded the critique.  The experience of trying to master a new concept and then realizing I'd missed the mark completely was definitely depression material.  But now I realize an informed critique is vital to artistic growth, and I am inviting you to join in this virtual crit session.

Taking into account that the color will vary according to your monitor, what I am seeing is a fairly accurate representation of the actual painting.   My palette consists of violet blue, ultramarine blue, cadmium yellow deep, yellow ocher, Winsor yellow, terra rosa, transparent red oxide, burnt sienna, Quinacridone  violet,  Naples yellow (French), Naples yellow (Italian), Naples yellow, Naples yellow pale, and zinc white.  The greens are mixed.  I think the colors in the painting are slightly more saturated than the image I am seeing, but not as saturated as in the earlier versions.

Here are a few questions to start the critique...
Overall structure: 

• does your eye move smoothly throughout the composition or does it get stuck somewhere?
• what do you think is the center of interest?
• does the composition feel balanced or awkward?
• are the major shapes working? (assuming that the major shapes are there?)
• do you like any of the earlier versions ( previous post) better?  If so, why?

I hope you will participate, if only for the practice of evaluating a painting so that you can develop the skill.  I am hoping for some feedback that will help me see things I might have overlooked.

Looking forward to lots of responses in my comments section!

Sunday Salon: Sitting Down with the Atelier Approach

In my conversations with Slump, he suggested I was "stuck"  because I'd reached the edge of the cliff.  Metaphorically speaking, that is.

"And that cliff would be?" I asked, eyebrows raised for emphasis.

"The one where you're standing on the edge of solid ground -- the painting skills you have -- and you're afraid to step off the cliff -- gaining new painting skills -- because you think you'll crash and burn."

"Ah, the Wiley Coyote Observation," I responded snidely, since Slump had loved Roadrunner cartoons as a kid.

But Slump has thicker skin than I have.  He ignored my immaturity and reminded me I ought to read one of those books I buy instead of just looking at the pretty pictures. 

So I did. 

One of my painting aspirations is to become a fabulous landscape painter.  Well, at least a good one.  But  I've been producing work that's rather ... ho hum.  So, under Slump's continued nagging I pulled out Classical Painting Atelier: A Contemporary Guide to Traditional Studio Practice, by Juliette Aristides.

The Atelier Approach was once the gold standard for artist training.  It fell out of favor, but is regaining popularity.  The basic philosophy mentors an artist through lessons from a Master Artist, introducing foundational skills through a curriculum that "naturally builds upon itself during the course of a developing artist's period of study (p. 1)."

I began with the first exercise, studying tonal arrangements.

I know this is a big risk, telling you how I took short cuts, labored over a painting when I knew better, ended up overworking it, making it ugly and just waiting for my husband to pass by and point out these details the way someone points out the obvious to a four year old.  But in the spirit of sharing, I hope my experience will be helpful.

I've had more time recently to devote to painting, and I started working on some new, smaller landscapes.

Painting One @ Sue Favinger Smith

So here is the first version.  I thought it looked interesting from 20 feet back, lost it's power at 3 feet.  I wasn't sure exactly what was wrong.

I liked the light and place.  I liked the personality of the trees.  My original inspiration had dramatic light to dark contrast, but was a photo and photos aren't very good at revealing what's in the shadows.  I didn't want to just copy.  I also liked the color scheme.  The sky was a mixture of violets and blues, making the yellows glow.

But something just wasn't quite right.

I needed to study the composition through tonal values, and compare it to the tonal values of a "Master Artist."

I use Photoshop Elements, and have recently incorporated it into my painting routine.  I have a folder marked "Works in Progress" where I save digitals of my painting process.  This is useful as I now have a record of how seemingly small changes effect the overall design. 

I also Photoshop for tonal value analysis.   I convert my painting image to grayscale ( Image > mode > grayscale), where I can actually see the value pattern I've created, without the distraction of color. 

And what I'd created was a very active abstract composition with diagonals converging into the center and vague major masses.  I liked the way the strong verticals added stability and contrast, but I realized my values were closer together than I'd imagined. I also saw several large X's in the composition which I did not like. And it did not have the elegance of design I was after. 

Wash at Hudson's @ Don Stone
Here is the grayscale version of a painting I have long admired, by Master Artist Don Stone.  I noticed that he uses his values differently than I do.  I decided to use him as my Master Artist and analyze exactly what his thought processes might be.

I converted Stone's image to grayscale, and then printed both his painting and my own so that I could tape them side by side on my studio wall.  Next, I began to analyze and compare.

Well, it didn't take very long before I just "knew" what to do...

I admit, I like to think I can paint on the fly.  I mean, inspiration has a direct conduit to my fingers, moving my hand way before the old brain catches up. 

So I fiddled... just a little darker here... I dabbed paint rather than putting it on with thought and deliberation...maybe some yellow here...I experimented. (Saying I felt my way would be more accurate). And I became more frustrated as my painting became more of a mess.  Finally, after trying "just one more bit," I had to go to work and leave it for an entire day.

When I came home that night I took one look and realized what I had done. 

You're thinking, "She's going back to Slump, isn't she?"  But you'd be wrong.

What I had done was push past "safety in what I know" into "willing to sacrifice a perfectly mediocre painting to learn something."

This is a very good place to be.

Painting One (left) and Painting Two (right)

In painting one, you can see how I had attempted to unify my darkest value and ended up with a black hole pretty much in the center of the painting.
Oops!
I lost much of my color by over painting and blending too much.
I studied my Master Artist and then wrote down in my notebook what I liked about his work and what I needed to do in my own work.

Like: 

• Strong value design
• 3 values

Work on:

• design first
• greater value separation
• more paint on the brush
• cleaner color
• mix larger puddles on palette

Then I wrote out my analysis and solutions:

What am I doing wrong?  I'm not completely sure ahead of time about major decisions, so I feel my way, try out things, change and overwork.

My solutions:  I need to spend more time planning the idea, then painting thinly to be sure it works.  I need to plan and mix colors and values, using a limited palette.  I need to apply the paint with as little "fussiness" as possible...put it down in one stroke.  I also did a value sketch from memory, unifying the major masses, and clarifying the 3 value areas.

I painted the second version last night in one go, about 3 hours.  I knew ahead of time how I intended to apply the paint and I had mixed up my colors in large puddles so I would not get caught short and have to mix something up in the middle of things.  The scary part was wondering if I could recreate the freshness in the original composition or if it was gone forever.

Here are the value comparisons.  I am very happy with the unity in the second version, and the defined value pattern. I lost some of the personality in the first set of trees, and I will go back in and strengthen the lighter values in the foreground to capture the sense of light hitting the rolling pathway. But overall I think that the second version has a more cohesive design and the color is clean.

But more importantly, this exercise reminded me that an artist recognizes when her work isn't up to par and then does something about it.  And I discovered that I can "do it again" and actually "do it better."

Yes, I will study the two new side by side value images, and determine what works in the first and try to apply it in the second.  And yes, I really do wish I hadn't overworked the first painting and destroyed the elegance in the paint application.  But the realization that gives me the most joy is that I've now reached the artistic level where I realize where my work is weak, and I'm developing the skills to make it stronger.

And that's a better place to be than satisfied but unable to see.

The Indisputable Creative Advantage of Older Artists

When I owned my business, there was a rule everyone accepted: If you survived five years, you were successful.  Try to get credit, or open an account , and you could hear the tension:  how long have you  been in business?  Always followed by relief when told five, ten, or eighteen years.  Time, it seemed, was the primary predictor of success.

According to AGING, CREATIVITY, AND ART, A Positive Perspective on Late-Life Development, by Martin S. Lindauer,  this rule holds true for artists, too.

I discussed Lindauer's findings in an earlier post titled The Seven Characteristics that Distinguish Older Artists over their Younger Peers, and I wanted to follow up with more encouraging conclusions.

The statistics Lindauer used were gathered by art historians looking at artists from the past who had created masterpieces.  The data included working lifespan, when masterpieces were created in relation to death, and reflected activity from the past few centuries.  A second data set included women,  and finding artists working closer to the modern age, the last 100 years or so. Earlier assumptions about creativity being a "young man's game" had been based on research flawed in Lindauer's opinion, because it revealed that artists "peaked" in their late 20's or 30's, without considering lifespan (most of the artists died in their late 40's or very early 50's).  When research expanded to include artists with longer lifespans, something interesting emerged.

"Bursts of creative activity varied for 45 well-known artists; peaks were found in nearly every decade of their lives: in youth, middle-age, and old age.  Despite differences between individual artists, creative output generally occurred relatively later in life than earlier; and creative productivity continued into old age in nearly all cases.  Youth is therefore not the only or even the predominant period in which creative productivity was maximized (pp 123)."

I like that: "Youth is therefore not the only or even predominant period in which creative productivity is maximized."

So youth is not a pre-condition to becoming a successful artist.

But the amount of time spent creating art is.

And what does this mean for the Ancient Artist?

The older you are, the longer you've been painting.

And the longer you paint, the better you get.

Indisputable.

Imagine.  What could you do if you knew that you had at least one "peak" ahead of you, and if you exercise and eat right, there's the possibility of two?

I'm heading to the kitchen right now for some  broccoli to eat with my coffee.

Here are some interesting sites mined from my bookmarks. 

Creative Aging's Blog

edward_ winkleman

New York Art News

Amy Tan: Where Does Creativity Hide?

Here is another great TED Talk by Amy Tan.  It's 22:52 minutes long, so I apologize to those of you on dial up.   

My Conversations with Slump

I have not been writing much this week.  In fact, I have been torturing myself with thoughts that I must be blocked, or perhaps the "slump" subject that has been moving around from blog to blog has settled down in mine and set up housekeeping for the duration. 

"Why are you here?" I've been asking Slump. "Aren't you really depression in disguise?"

I mean, depression is a great excuse.  I could whine (or whatever.)  I could open that new bottle of wine and drink it by myself, waving my glass to the beat of the jazz CD I always listen to when I'm in that mood.  I could stare at some of my recent paintings and wonder aloud why no one is interested in buying them when they really are damn good.  I could remember that I've been reading Eckhart Tolle, and when he talks about shedding the egoic nature and returning to the nothingness my head starts to ache, and then my neck. 

I guess that's what happens when you get a little information.

And I've been thinking a lot about how a little information can actually send you off on the wrong track.  Or around the bend.  Off the deep end.  Into the...you get my drift.  Questions like the reason we're here are too deep for this blog.  What I do know, or think I know, is that my internal experience, when I am painting, comes the closest to what I imagine Eckhart Tolle might be talking about when he speaks of the awareness of Being, outside of the ego.  I have no idea whether what I experience even comes close to what the spiritual teachers believe.  Might I be reckless enough to ask, "Should it matter?" 

Artists are very familiar with the experience of being "in the zone." Of finding yourself in a place where there is a connection between canvas, brush, hand, mind, heart, and perhaps something else.  Ego is not present in those moments.  Ego only comes into the room when the moment is past, when the painting is drying, or the words written in last week's post have been passed around from blog to blog.  When the action has been taken and cannot be recalled, and Ego is ready to inject emotion, insecurity, defensiveness, and self-inflicted pain along with his best pals Slump and Depression.

Should it matter that I struggle with ego, when -- in the moment that I complete a painting -- there is great inner peace? 

I'm going to need a lot more information. 

"So why are you still here?"  I ask, watching as Slump hands the bowl of chips over to Depression, who passes because he hasn't been able to eat for days.

I see their mouths moving.  Slump can't seem to get comfortable.  Ego has launched into what could be a tirade as his face is turning red. But I can't hear them. 

I don't know.  Maybe I've made a little progress toward Enlightenment. 

Maybe I'm going deaf.

Like I said, a little information can really be a dangerous thing. 

Sunday Salon: Sitting Down with Wassily Kandinsky

Today I am sitting down with Wassily Kandinsky...not the Kandinsky...did you think I was that Ancient?  No, I'm sitting down with his pioneering book Concerning The Spiritual In Art, first published in 1914 under the title The Art of Spiritual Harmony, and this is a Sunday Salon with a new twist.  Salons need to be more than a two-person conversation: the interviews are fabulous and I love doing them.  But I can't get to everyone and I want to expand the conversation.  So every now and then I plan on shaking things up a bit and I hope that a lot of you will join in and add your thoughts and comments.

So...the introduction of Kandinsky's first group of essays, titled "About General Aesthetic," reads thus:

"Every work of art is the child of its age and, in many cases, the mother of our emotions.  It follows that each period of culture produces an art of its own which can never be repeated."

And my philosophical question open for discussion is this:

How do you think our growing cultural dependency upon technology, such as the internet, and the instantaneous consumption of visual media, influences the art of our age?  How does it influence you in the choices you make as an artist?

I'm pouring a cup of coffee right now and I'm looking forward to tons of comments when I get back...

Have You Discovered Your Hidden Support System?

I spent most of yesterday gathering up the courage to call my photographer and set an appointment to bring in the ten new works on paper that I've been staring at for the past few months.  When I finally called, he answered on the first ring.

Yes, he remembered me.  And how did those photographs he took a year and a half ago work out for me?

Very well, I politely told him, and could he possibly have some time today or tomorrow.

Yes. He could.  So I was stuck, committed.  I kept telling myself that all I was doing was getting professional shots taken of pieces that proved too difficult for me to shoot, with their reflective surfaces and subtle colors.  It wasn't like I had to follow through on anything else, like sending them off to that juried event with the deadline in two weeks.   

I do this to myself on a regular basis, I realize, having no legitimate reason to feel so insecure.  But that seems to be the nature of my particular creative beast.  Give me a compliment or accept me into some organization and immediately the tiny voice in my head starts crowing over the imminent discovery that I am, yes, an artistic fraud. 

But he is expecting me.  We have a nice visit, I leave the work with instructions to return today. 

What can I say?  The meeting today was wonderful. Not because he thought the work was so fantastic that he couldn't breathe -- no.  I think it was because he's also an artist, working on his own version of that creative dream.  We were two creatives meeting where our paths crossed, and paused to share a moment of encouragement and support.  He told me how he had started doing stock photography; his wife called while we were talking to share the news that one of his images had earned a "Flame."  (Apparently, when an image has been downloaded 100 times, it earns a flame.)  We talked about the art market in general and artists we both knew, how everyone was feeling the slowdown and looking for answers.  Then he sat me down in front of his computer and we collaborated on the presentation of my images, while he instructed me on some new tips and tricks in Photoshop, and how to save the files on my desktop.

When I left two hours later I couldn't understand why it had been so difficult for me to make that initial call.   

Creating art is often an isolating experience. At times, we might forget that others are feeling equally isolated.  Our fears keep us from opening up to the very people who understand exactly where we're coming from, and we miss opportunities to discover our hidden support systems.  Yes, there are scary parts to success and to failure that isolation magnifies,  but just beyond that studio door there are hundreds of hidden sources of creative support.  We are not on this journey alone. 

Believe it.

Sunday Salon: Sitting Down with Shanti Marie

Today I am sitting down with Shanti Marie, a versatile artist I think you will enjoy.

Shanti, can you tell us about your artistic background?

As a child I liked painting but seldom had the opportunity.  I love music and wanted to sing or play an instrument when I grew up.  We were very poor and I never to the chance to learn to play an instrument till I was in college.  I always admired artists in general and loved to watch people draw or play music. I didn't have a lot of self-confidence and thought you had to be really good at drawing to be an artist, and I didn't really have drawing skills.  So when I went to college I became a fine arts major thinking perhaps I would be an art history teacher, or perhaps a music teacher

I've always liked teaching.  My last semester in college I was a fiber artist and was having a difficult time finding a job.  I decided to enroll in an additional 13-month business school education.  A newspaper hired me as a manager in the circulation department. I liked the job but still felt a strong desire to do creative projects.  I continued to play music with various groups, and I also sang in a couple of bands.

Like many people who have a creative passion and a full time job, every weekend, I found myself making things or doing creative things to fill this artistic void.  In 1986 I decided to teach myself watercolor, which I found interesting and I thought it would be easy.  I painted on weekends for years painting things for my own home and for family.  Raising a family and working was my life.  Art was my hobby.  I was the typical hardworking stressed out individual trying to find a few moments of painting time between all my other obligations.

In 1996 I decided to work part time and to try to develop my artistic side.  A few years later I decided it was time to promote my work and myself and to join various art groups in my area.  This helped me immensely and I cannot believe all those years I painted alone without any artist friends or support.  I found my art was getting better with their input.  I started to teach several students and later I gave classes for beginners.  This gave me confidence and also helped me in my own art.

I noticed that you use a variety of marketing services to promote the sale of your work: Flicker, Fine Art America, DailyPainters.com, Daily Painters Web Ring, Daily Painters Guild, and your own blogs...from a business stand point, how would you rank these services for effectiveness?

Pink In Progress @ Shanti Marie

The best thing I have done for myself is my daily blog.  The key to making money on a blog is to post often and to give the customers (readers) some reason to come back and check on you, a lesson, an anecdote or just your own silly ramblings to let the readers know you're human and as an artist you struggle too.  On a blog you should give the information about each painting, the price, how to pay, and explain something about the painting, either the process, the problems or the motivation.  Everyone likes to know how an artist works so I take pictures of my work in progress, or I show my work area, my tools, or I write articles about various techniques.  It's more than a point of sales.

My connection with the daily painters group had been the most helpful, since they have a larger audience (5000 per day), and this helps drive traffic to my blog.  I have tried eBay, and many other avenues.  Some work, some don't.  I try things, I see if they work by trying them for a few months, then I either ditch them or keep them.  It's pretty simple, really.  I try to find web sites, which will drive traffic to my work.  There are folks who like my paintings and will buy if they can find me.  Flickr, photobucket, Google, and some of the other search engines bring folks to my blogs with key words and tags, so it's good to understand how these work.  I analyze my blog stats regularly to see what people are looking for and take this into consideration.

I rate daily painters as #1, the photo posting sites as #2 and eBay a distant third.  Then there are the link exchanges, and the others are just a drop in the bucket in terms of numbers.  I get tons of hits from Wordpress because they promote blogs within their own blogosphere.  I recently (within the last two weeks) closed down my eBay store: I have found the warmer months to be slow, the work is not worth the profits, and will reopen in the fall.

I think your koi paintings are fresh and full of movement.  I noticed that you experiment with clay board and watercolor canvas.  How do these surfaces help you express your creative voice?

Koi 23 @ Shanti Marie

I started painting on other surfaces for several reasons.  Probably the biggest reason was the simple fact that I've painted on paper for more than 20 years and wanted to branch out.  I've always liked experimentation and now that I'm confident of my painting skills, I wanted to see what else is out there for the watercolorist.  There is a lot of work in the area of watermedia, which is exciting and fresh and not limited by the traditional restriction of watercolor on paper.  Even our state (South Carolina) watercolor society changed their name to watermedia society and this made me realize that things are changing.

The South Carolina Watercolor Society has always been at the forefront of new artistic avenues and being a part of it was important to me.  I also found that sales of my paintings on clay board, canvas or gessoed masonite were selling for a higher price than the works on paper.  These surfaces are actually easier to paint on once you learn their limitations, and yet give the artist many ways to express an idea.  Without having to plan ahead, and the ability to correct mistakes easily, these surfaces help the artist be more in the moment.  It also allows the artist (especially the new artist) a certain amount of freedom that watercolor on paper can only do after many years of experience.

You wrote an insightful comment regarding the painting "Calmness," where you said, "I'm distilling scenes and not literally painting them."  Can you tell us more about this? How important do you think the Daily Painting process has been to your growth as an artist, and your ability to see the changes in your work?

Calmness @ Shanti Marie

The daily painting process has speeded up the natural learning process.  Most great painters will tell you the only difference between them and other painters may be the time spent with a brush in hand.  To some degree I have learned this is true.  It has also allowed me to determine what is important to me and thus has solidified my preferences for various techniques, materials, methods, palette and so on...this is basically one's style  When I say I'm distilling a scene, I mean that I do not even try to slavishly render a scene but I try to determine first the mood, then the emotional impact I'm trying to achieve, and the last, what is the one thing about the scene that attracted me.  I then try to paint a scene, which will convey those factors. It may look like the scene but usually it doesn't.  Often the colors will be exaggerated or completely changed.  Sometimes I will throw out everything that is not important to the message and will dramatize the area that I see as the focal point.

What I enjoy most when reading your blog posts is your openness about the artistic process.  In particular, can you tell us more about the story behind  "Evening Newsstand"? Why do you feel it's as important for an artist to "figure out what's wrong with a painting and make it right as it is to do it right from the start"?

Evening Newsstand @ Shanti Marie

I think every painting is an opportunity to learn and to perfect your skills.  Only you can be honest with yourself.  The painting may be successful on one level and not on another.  If you can make these determinations as to what you would do differently next time, you almost don't have to paint the next one - the simple fact that you recognize the problem areas will help you on the next painting.  If you can plan your painting from the first step to the last, you may have a nice painting, but you are not allowing anything new or fresh to enter into the painting.  This interaction is usually what I encourage.  This process of exploration is exciting and what I love about painting.  I allow the piece to evolve and often it will be a better painting in many ways.  This is a personal preference, you have to decide how you want to work and this works for me.  The best part is...both types sell; there is an audience for both types of paintings.

"Evening Newsstand" is a perfect example of a painting that just evolved.  When I decided to paint this piece, I only decided I wanted a predominantly warm painting with some direct and exciting brushwork.  The rest just evolved, at the end, I looked at it, and decided it looked like a street newsstand scene.

What is the most surprising thing that you've discovered on your artistic journey?

Roses Soft @ Shanti Marie

I had to learn to accept work as valuable even if it was an easy painting for me to paint.  I have always measured the value of a painting by the difficulty in the execution.  This no longer applies as I can paint things rather quickly and easily.  I have to remind myself it actually took 20 years plus 30 minutes to paint a painting, not just the 30 minutes.

You can see more of Shanti Marie's work by clicking on the following links:

Shanti Marie's World of Watercolor

A Painting a Day

Daily Painters Art Gallery