Ancient Artist: Developing an art career after 50

The Quixote Effect

 

Cervantes’ humorous story of Don Quixote follows a country gentleman in his fifties as he sets off on an imaginary quest.  The initial exploits are met with amused tolerance by the townsfolk, supporting the aging Quixote’s belief that he's a knight-errant on grand chivalrous quests.  Despite farcical setbacks, each “success” magnifies the validity of Quixote’s reality. But toward the end of Part Two,  attitudes change. Quixote becomes the butt of mean-spirited jokes.  Well-meaning friends convince  Quixote that his quest is delusion, the product of age and insanity.  The story ends with the loss of Quixote’s faith.  He accepts reality imposed by others, but is gripped with a deep and persistent melancholy.  When Alsono Quixano dies, he's sane in the eyes of the world but inwardly a broken man.

It's a story that has entertained generations and is deep in our collective psyche.  There’s something both humorous and pathetic in the idea of the last “hurrah,” the aging character setting out on a grand adventure after a lost dream.  We laugh at his interpretations of reality, we pity his disillusionment, and secretly fear we might be Quixote and not know it. 

For me, the idea creeps in when I least expect it.  I can feel successful within my own studio, caught up in the pleasure of creation. But I also exist in an interdependent relationship with the people and events surrounding me, which can affect me deeply.  Success is just as stressful as rejection: both could be signs of my own delusion, succeeding out of pity, rejection from reality. 

Is this the Quixote Effect?  I don’t know.  Maybe other people are better at rational thinking than I am.  All I know is I can't allow myself to doubt the validity of my quest.  Short of writing a manifesto, I decided to go into my studio and prove something to myself. 

"Self Portrait at Age 61" @  Sue Favinger Smith, 2009

Worth the Read

Every now and again I come across articles that offer useful information.  I want to pass along "Silencing a Voice that Says You're a Fraud," by Melinda Beck, printed in the Wall Street Journal.  It's worth the read.

Is There A Creative Age?

I often revisit books that have interested me in the past, finding new insights  I missed in an earlier reading.  Lately, I've found myself going back to a book by Martin S. Lindauer, titled Aging, Creativity, and Art: A Positive Perspective on Late-Life Development. 

Lindauer's research questions the assumption that creativity peaks in youth, and begins to fade by the age of 30, often referred to as the decline model.  Much of his research shows - from various perspectives - that what we identify as creativity persists throughout life, and can actually increase and manifest in new ways with age, arguing that "Aging therefore enhanced rather than stifled artistic expression."

I find this idea of particular importance to artists who have entered the field, or are contemplating entering the artistic field at the age of 50 or older.

While all of Lindauer's research is based on the life-time work of renowned artists who began in their 20's and are (or were, in the case of deceased artists) still working at age 60 through 80, I wanted to see what insights I could discover for artists who were starting at age 50.

Regardless of whether the artist was male or female, from the Renaissance, the 1800's, or 20th Century,  I noticed from the graphs of data that productivity and quality increased for at least three decades from the starting age.  So artists who began their careers at age 20, were generally regarded to be at their best by age 40 to 50.

Could it be possible that the three decade similarity actually described the time frame an artist needed to develop the full range of insights and skills in order to perform at the top of his or her ability, and not the peaking followed by the gradual decline of creativity? 

Other graphs indicate that particularly long-lived artists had two or more peaks, explained by early productivity, a stagnation or decrease in productivity, and then a second or third resurgence of creative output.  

This is exciting to me.  Think about this the idea.  If creativity manifests itself throughout our lives, and if an artist has at least two to three decades of enthusiastic, concentrated effort ahead of them before extreme old age impacts their ability to work, why shouldn't we expect a similar pattern of achievement for the artist who starts at age 50 that we expect from the artist who starts at age 20? 

Are we poised on the cusp of a unique time when the next great artistic movement comes not from the young, but from artists who do not pick up a paint brush until after the age of 51?

Intriguing thought, isn't it?

In that regard, I was pleased to see that Southwest Art Magazine followed up their first Emerging Artists Search, titled "21 under 31" with a second Emerging Artists Search titled "21 over 31", although this suggests that if the first search focused on artists aged between 20 and 31, the  second search implies an age bracket of 31 to 42. 

It's a step in the right direction to acknowledge that artists can emerge at a later age.

But I would be really excited if a major art magazine published an Emerging Artists Search titled "21 over 51."  I'd be willing to bet the art will be just as innovative, accomplished, visionary or spiritual as any in the younger brackets.  In fact, it might be better.

But that's my bias. 

I found this excerpt from a poem by Longfellow, titled Morituri Salutamus:

"For age is opportunity, no less
Than Youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day."

Make Your Own Shipping Boxes

Over the past few weeks I have been focused on finding the best - and most economical way to ship framed paintings. 

My criteria for the perfect shipping box has evolved from my early version of simply wrapping a piece of artwork in bubble wrap. I've decided that the perfect container needs to be sturdy, affordable, designed to safely protect the artwork during shipping, be reusable, and provide an easy-in-easy-out loading system. 

My ideal shipping container is a product called the Airfloat Strongbox. However, I simply can't afford to purchase as many of these boxes as I need.  So I've come up with two versions of my own that are easy to make and far more affordable.

 The first version is one I've used for a few years.  It consists of a crate constructed out of foamcore, and sized to be large enough to accommodate the bubble-wrapped artwork. This inner crate slips into a larger cardboard shipping box - UPS offers Art Boxes in small, medium and large sizes, which are supposed to be slightly stronger than the usual brown cardboard boxes.  I fill the void between the inner and outer carton with bubble wrap, and if the outer box gets damaged, I simply replace it.

The second version is also constructed with foamcore.  The size is measured to exactly fit inside the outer box.  I also attach thick foam padding, using ATG tape, to the inner side of the foamcore box.  My bubble-wrapped artwork is then placed into a plastic bag and slipped easily into the padded interior.

I've posted detailed instructions and pictures on how to build these crates if you are interested in trying these designs. These instructions will always be available in the right hand column under pages. 

There's one other tip I've picked up from a variety of sources that I really like.  On the top of the inner flap of the foamcore crate, I tape a printout showing a picture of the artwork, my address and phone - and if I'm using an art mover, I include the delivery information such as where to deliver and times for delivery and pick-up for their convenience.

I learned the hard way that it's my responsibility to make sure my packing system is easy to use while protecting my artwork. I once sent out two same-size paintings in a single crate and received them back with dents in the canvas - it was my own fault for not realizing that the person repacking them probably had between fifty and one hundred paintings to crate up in an afternoon and simply didn't have the time to be sure everything fit properly.  Now I try to make it as quick and easy for that person as possible, while still protecting my artwork.

And without breaking the bank.

Leonard Cohen, Courtesy of Barney Davey, from Art Print Issues

As Barney Davey said on his facebook post: "Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah - at age 74 with more inspiring soul stirring passion than others half his age."

5 Tips for Photographing Your Art

One of the most frustrating tasks an artist faces is how to effectively photograph their art.  I've tried every method.  I have a book on the subject, I've scoured the internet, received advice from professional photographers, and still haven't found one way that works every time.

But there are tricks you can use that work in different circumstances.

Trick #1 - Controlling the light when photographing indoors.

Okay, you've set up your artwork in a space where you can control the ambient light - either at night, or in a hall or a room where you can close the blinds.  You have your camera on a tripod, and your lights angled at 45 degrees from the work and positioned behind your tripod.  But you still get glare, particularly with oil paintings. 

Try setting your camera on automatic timer, then holding a sheet of vellum up in front of the light fixture responsible for the glare - a little experimentation is helpful. I've found cupping the paper slightly to bounce the light up toward the ceiling works. The vellum will diffuse the light.  You will still get good illumination and avoid those hot spots.

Trick #2 - Taking your paintings outside.

When I first started photographing my artwork outside, I followed the advice to do it in the shade.  I was using slide film and was able to get beautiful photographs.  But with my digital camera this is not the case.  Often the colors appear too blue, no matter how I change the white balance. 

Now I photograph dry paintings in direct sun, at about a 45 degree angle, using my tabletop easel set on the ground.  This means I have to bend down at an awkward angle, but if the painting is angled flatter, it reflects more glare.  I've found that using the automatic settings on my camera seem to work best, rather than adjusting the white balance, but I'm also in the northern part of the country and the sun is in a different area of the sky.

Trick #3 - Learn to use Photoshop

As long as your image is in focus and the colors are accurate when you upload your image, there's a lot you can do using Photoshop to clean it up.  As a safety precaution, duplicate the image before manipulating it. 

If, when you use the cropping tool, you realize your image is skewed enough to significantly alter the appearance, try using Transform first. Under Image, click on transform and then on skew.  You can adjust the image fairly easily by pulling up the corners, but when you're finished, your image will be automatically saved as  PS or Photoshop image. Go ahead and save it, then open it again and click on Edit - Save As - and select jpeg.  

 Here is a detail of an untouched image, showing the white dots where the pixels have no color.  This is a common issue when photographing oil paintings due to the nature of the oil paint and the textured surface.  

Here is an easy method to use to correct your image.

Start by opening your thumbnail.  Using CTRL and the + sign, enlarge the image so you can begin to see the details.  You'll notice white dots - these are areas where reflected light tricked your camera into seeing white, and can otherwise ruin a nice image. 

Click on the clone tool.  Something that looks like a bullseye opens up on your image.  Hold this icon over a color adjacent to the white dot that you want to eliminate. While holding down the ALT key, left click your mouse - this action picks up the color.  Then simply move the bullseye over the white dot and left click  without holding the ALT key - stamping the color.

Here is the corrected image.  It's a simple solution, and with a little practice you'll be cleaning up your images like a pro.  

As you're working, you may find it necessary to increase the magnification of the pixels. Just press CTRL and + until you can clearly see what you're doing.  Then to check our image, use CTRL and the - sign to reduce the image size.

If you look closely, you can see the three darker green dots just above the orange curve of this pear. This is a .5 in the brush preferences, which shows up in the tool bar at the top of your screen once you activate the clone stamp tool. Play around with the sizes of the brush preferences (sizes of the dots) - too small and it takes forever but too large can be too obvious.

  Be sure to save the image frequently, as I have learned the hard way that 20 minutes of tedious work can be lost through one careless click on the mouse.

Tip #4 - Crop your image

This tip is not really for you but for all those other artists who think a photo of their painting should include that bright gold frame because it looks so much better than just the image. And why not show some of that doily that you set your painting on, too, because after all it sets up a nice homey contrast.  Or maybe the green plant.  Or the dog that just happened to walk into the image. 

Tip #5 - Use a professional for the important images

For your record keeping, any image will do. For your web page portfolio, a clean, cropped, appropriately bright and contrasted image is perfect.  You can check your histogram first ( look in the Image drop down menu) - it should look like a bell curve, which indicates how the camera was reading the brightness, and you can adjust up or down.  Bear in mind that color varies from monitor to monitor and you can make yourself crazy trying to fine tune everything. If it looks good on your computer, then check out your site on two or three other computers, using different browsers. If you're happy with the results let it go. 

But if you are submitting to important shows or juried organizations, or preparing images for postcards, you may want to use a professional photographer.  Find one who specializes in photographing products or artwork.  The photographer I use has been generous with his knowledge and helped me learn how to do much of the photography work on my own - which is definitely more convenient and less costly.  Try to find one who will share their knowledge with you, too.

It's important to keep good photographic records of the work you produce, and to be able to pull together professional images on short notice.  So for me, it was also important to take the time to work through the various problems I encountered while photographing my work.  I hope you will experiment with some of these simples fixes with your next painting.

What Do You Want To See?

I recently took advantage of the Critique Service offered by Oil Painters of America.  After sending in my required images, I learned that my critique would be from a master artist who teaches at the Art Student's League in New York. 

As an artist, my previous experience with critiques came either from the classroom or the public. While I always appreciate hearing feedback, it felt quite different to wait for the critique from such an experienced painter.  What would he say?  Would it be useful, or just point out the weaknesses in the work?  So I felt a certain amount of trepidation when I opened the email with his response attached. 

It was the best experience that I've had with regard to someone talking to me about my work. 

Of course, the one painting my instructor picked to illustrate his points was Tangerine Tango. And he began his instruction by telling me the question he always asks his students: What do you want to see happen in your painting?

The advice he offered me was "I would like to see more variety and unity in my painting," and he gave some very specific ideas on how I might achieve this. 

 Since I was currently working on a new still life, I looked for ways to apply the concepts.  One suggestion related to ways of describing local color.  Within a few strokes, my painting began to come alive and I could see exactly how far I could  push the color.  Studying books by Sergei Bongart and Sorolla helped, as well as the Impressionists.  Another book from my library, Problem Solving for Oil Painters, by Gregg Kreutz, as been most helpful.  With so many instructional books on the market, it's hard to decide which books are the best, but I do recommend that you take a look at this book.  Aimed at the moderately experienced painter, Kreutz discusses painting concepts and illustrates ways to achieve them.

If you are interested in the OPS Critique Service, here is the information from their newsletter:

Artists are reminded that a critique service is available for both members and non-members of OPA.  Artists wishing to participate should mail two identical disks containing three to ten paintings of current work with a one page biography.  The fee is $25.00 for OPA members and $50.00 for non-members.  Send materials and check to Oil Painters of America, P.O. Box 2488, Crystal Lake, IL. 60039-2488

How to Survive Series: Curating the Artist Website

How to survive...doesn't that just cry out for dramatic music, ominous lighting, shadowy figures lurking around the corner?

It strikes right at that primal soft spot we all have - that something awful has happened. 

What, exactly, is that "awful" thing?

Oh.  Consumers aren't buying right now.  Yeah, seen that, done that.  During the 30 plus years I operated my own small business consumer spending went up and it went down.  During the up times, it was easy to get sloppy, to think you were offering such a fantastic service there was nothing you could do wrong.  In the slow times, you realized that just wasn't the case.  The "anybody can do this" folks dropped out, and the serious players changed their game.

Have you thought about changing your game?

In a recent on-line issue of Art Business News, I found a link to a round-table discussion of gallery owners - which you can listen to here.  There were many insights I found to be valuable and which can be applied to the way artists operate their businesses.

The first element that stood out in the round table gallery discussion was how important the quality of the art experience was for a successful client/gallery/artist relationship.    As a society, we are so inundated with messages, one could argue that only the most unique messages, delivered in a way that excites the imagination and enhances the consumer's personal experience are the ones that get through.  

So I asked myself - was I delivering a unique experience to the visitors who came to my websites?

At the same time I was pondering this question I was also researching ways to curate a solo show, and it occurred to me - websites were the equivalent of an on-line solo show.

Next question - was my "show" a jumble of everything I'd created during the past three years, or was there some logic or story telling behind it?

I wasn't all that impressed with my answers to those questions, so I decided to start the curating process at Sue Smith Fine Art.  In the process, I discovered that it's more than just arranging the order of your images.

At Fine Art Studio Online, I have a generous comment field  on the home page and I started there, writing a brief intro that gives the visitor a sense of the Artist Statement and emotion behind the work.  I remembered how I once based a solo show around the work of Annie Dillard, and tried to engage the viewer in a similar manner, using written word, pulling the viewer in to the emotional experience.  I have discovered that this process can't be rushed.  I will also be rewriting my artist statement, and perhaps even post an essay on the site before I move on to curate my other site.

In the round table discussion, gallery owners continually  emphasized creating the experience of quality, seeing a major competitor in the Big Box stores offering mediocre art.  As an artist, I believe it's in my best interests to make sure that I am also focused on providing the Art Experience in every way that I can.

Take a look at your own website.  Does it need a curating makeover?

Or are you just another mini-me version of those Big Box stores?

Stealing Magic

In mythology, a common theme involves the hero facing danger and travail while he ventures into the unknown to steal the magic of the gods.  While our hero battles bravely, often times it appears he is overwhelmed until that moment when he snatches destiny from the fingers of disdain.

We could also use this analogy to describe our art careers. 

We paint, we struggle, we think work is good only to decide weeks later that it isn't.  And just when we start believing that it's time to pack things in we steal the magic. 

But think about this for a moment:  If art's only value is what someone will pay for it, doesn't that mean we'll need to create a lot of valueless art before we produce art that has value?

It does make a difference what we do, when we are producing all that "valueless" art.  Not every gain is measurable by a monetary standard.  The struggle is about improving your personal understanding, developing your artistic voice with dignity, authority and self assurance.  This is what makes art "interesting."  What we see in a work of art and want to know more.

Stealing the magic doesn't mean what you might think it means.  It isn't a secret that someone else holds. It isn't something that just happens, like chance, that was not earned.

Stealing the magic is realizing one day that  - after months of painting the way you've always painted - you're suddenly producing art like you've never produced before.  It's that small, electric moment when you step back from your easel and realize something happened.  That a door opened, and you are stepping through.

Steal the magic.

Shallots with Pearl Onions
6 x 6
oil on panel

@the artist

The Four "P's" that Determine Success

I have been fighting with my muse all week. 

Actually it's been a little longer than that, but holidays don't count.  We usually fight about the directions we want to go...well, I'm fighting about the direction I want to go while She can't help saying something about it.

It starts because I haven't been doing something.  Haven't been painting.  Haven't been writing.  And then the idea of "not doing" starts to get in the way of everything else. 

I've identified four "P's" in this cycle: two black, two white, bound together in a creative yin-yang relationship. 

Procrastination.  This is one of those sneaky activities that gets a toe-hold during a legitimate "time-out." Company comes.  A holiday arrives.  Anything that lends itself to cleaning the studio and then closing the door.  It's important to take time off -- that's my side of the argument.  Muse, on the other hand, loves to point out that time off becomes something worse when it extends for more than a few days.

Protectionism.  Now, isn't this just one of those politically correct words that means "I don't want to change and you ain't gonna make me?"  Muse's argument, not mine.  But on this one she's right.

Practice. And that's the catch, isn't it?  If you've been procrastinating you aren't practicing...

Persistence.  Which doesn't mean beating your head against the "I'm not inspired" wall.  It just means that the professional - the serious artist - understands that inspiration isn't something that "comes to you" but something that evolves out of what you are doing. 

Of course, just because I might know that doesn't mean I can easily break away from the grip of the first two "P's" because Muse is nagging me.  I have to work into these things.  Slowly. 

Yeah, I know, I hear her laughing, too.