Musings

Persistence

2011-12-13T08:31:00.000-07:00

Working through fundamental exercises in any given field, let alone drawing, can test your patience but the key is to remain persistent. After I read through Dr. Betty Edwards' "Drawing On The Right Side Of The Brain", I learned not only about why the brain perceives the visual world the way it does, but also strategies for a new way of seeing to improve my drawing. This foundation of knowledge motivated me to continue to work in these areas while sparking my interest to learn more from other sources.

I attempted to enroll in several classes and workshops around the Denver area to further my education but I always seemed to be a day late and a dollar short when it came time to enroll. My search continued and I eventually discovered an excellent resource for artists called Smartflix. This website provided instructional video rental for drawing and painting in addition to many other specialized craftwork. I rented videos from there while checking out more from the library. The videos helped solidify the concepts of what I had read in Dr. Edwards' book in addition to new teachings. Now, I had to take this new information and put it into practice.

After several months of working on my accuracy, I gravitated toward portraiture. My interests were pushed further when I was commissioned to do a portrait series of three siblings. I also began two separate series of self-portraits and burlesque performers around this time.

In the autumn of 2010, JQ and I flew out to Washington D.C. to attend a wedding. We planned to spend sufficient time at the Smithsonian Institution. I was struck by two galleries in particular. As you might suspect, the first was the National Portrait Gallery where I marveled over several works by John Singer Sargent while gaining a better appreciation of American artists in general, such as Childe Hassam and Robert Reid, to name a few. I surprised myself developing a newfound love of work I had long disregarded, ultimately realizing the importance of portraiture in American art as not only documentation of history but as an entity of beauty in and of itself. Interestingly enough, the second gallery was the Feer/Sackler Gallery, typically known for its Asian collection. This time, however, there was a gorgeous exhibit featuring the work of James McNeill Whistler. I absorbed visually what I could from the trip, writing down names of interest with the intent of looking them up when I returned home to find out what I could about the artists and their processes.

Of the artists I wrote down, Sargent and Whistler were the most documented regarding their process. From Sargent, I learned of his strong work ethic and how much time he put into rehearsing his material through sketches; he encouraged at least 100 studies of a particular subject before committing it to canvas. Whistler, on the other hand, was known for his remarkable visual memory. He would study his subject intently for a period of time and then turn his back, facing away from the source to recite verbally what he had seen in order to commit it to memory. These two concepts would eventually become the cornerstone in my continuing development as an artist.

Jared 2.0, Back To The Blog: Part II

2011-11-29T08:46:00.019-07:00

“I’m gettin’ old, man. Heard the gun for half-time go off when I turned 40. I’m at half-time in my life. My life is half over. And I played a sloppy first half, man.”

-Billy Gardell

Self-introspection had begun in earnest. I was looking at my paintings through the eyes of a critic and what I saw was work that didn’t match my vision. I simply wasn’t producing the caliber of work I was striving for.

The first problem I identified was my drawing ability. I have been drawing ever since I could pick up a pencil. Throughout my life, I’ve been told by friends and family that I was a good artist and until last year, I believed it too, whole-heartedly. Once I began viewing my work more critically, it became apparent my drawing skills were lacking. In the past, I settled for these inadequacies because I always managed to tell myself that I could do better if I wanted to, if I really tried. The reality was that regardless of whether I could or couldn’t, I never made a concerted effort to improve my drawing skills and thus, I had yet to prove to myself that I was as good as I thought I could be.

As I was driving one day, I listened to a radio interview with an author who had written a book exploring whether talent is something inherent or can be learned. If my memory serves me correctly, I am thinking of David Shenk and his book called The Genius in All of Us: New Insights Into Genetics, Talent, and IQ. The particular subject discussed was “Why many childhood prodigies never fully live up to expectations.” He referred to a study where a grade-school classroom was divided into two groups: Group A was told at the beginning of the grading period that they were straight A students, that their work was exceptional, and they were doing very well in class. Group B, conversely, was told their grades were average to below average, and if they hoped to improve, they would need to work much harder. Riding on infused confidence, Group A proceeded to coast through the semester, turning in very average work while Group B worked substantially harder in order to produce better grades. In the end, Group B outperformed Group A. I could immediately see the lesson and how it applied to me. I’m embarrassed to admit that until my realization, I never worked at becoming a better draftsman because I accepted that I was talented and therefore had no drive to work on my skills.

I needed a resource to help me improve. I looked up possible classes and workshops, but they were either filled up or too expensive for me to attend. During an evening making canvas boards with Tony, I explained my recent revelation and that I was interested in improving my drawing skills. He suggested I pick up a book called Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Dr. Betty Edwards who has a master’s degree in art, a doctorate in psychology and a passion for education. In her book, Dr. Edwards breaks down five levels of visual comprehension, followed by basic brain anatomy, function, and visual cognition to provide an excellent foundation of understanding. She then provides various techniques to help counter those obstacles to obtain objective perception; a new way of seeing. All of these concepts are referenced in one form or another in all drawing training material I have found, such as: utilizing negative shapes, determining a basic unit within the image and using it to compare and measure other, larger shapes within the same composition, determining angles, and several other methods. I therefore believe this book is the best place to begin if you are interested in improving your drawing, whether you are a beginning or advanced artist, because it is the most comprehensive.

Understanding brain anatomy and function piqued my interest and after reading about them, I was prepared not only to utilize different measuring and self-checking techniques to develop better drawings, but to continue learning about how we learn and other concepts that related to and transcended the world of art. I also became aware of how much effort needed to be put into practice. Drawing is a discipline- you can’t merely study it and expect to get better without actually working at it. Again, a discrepancy I noticed between reality and my perceived reality.

I began doing the exercises diligently with an eye on revisiting the fundamentals of composition.

Jared 2.0, Back To The Blog: Part I

2011-11-17T14:41:00.007-07:00

Nearly two years ago, I hit a creative wall. I felt my artwork wasn’t progressing the way I wanted it to and blogging about it only served to confirm those feelings so I stopped writing. I needed time to rethink my approach to painting.

I remembered my college professor, Earl Linderman, telling the class the only way to get better at painting was to continue to paint. After graduation, I put those words into practice and noticed gradual improvement in my work, particularly in the five years I was fortunate enough to do it full-time, but in 2010 I plateaued. The uncertainty of how to proceed sent me into depression. I was determined to find a solution. I needed to refine my skills to match the vision that was beginning to form in my mind of what my art should look like.

In an effort to cheer myself up, I began watching a lot of stand-up comedy. As I continued to observe and listen to various comedians and their material, I became interested in the development of their career path (a subject I hope to expand on at a later time). I eventually came back to George Carlin whose work I hadn’t seen since the late ‘80s. After combing through all of his stand-up material, I looked up additional t.v. spots and interviews and found one particular interview where he discussed a turning point in his career which he claim happened at about the age of 40. Incidentally, this was the same age I found myself at the time I watched the interview. Carlin went on to explain the change came about from a book he read titled "Psycho-Cybernetics."

A short time later, I picked up a copy of the book, by Maxwell Maltz, out of curiosity and actually found it to be an interesting read. In fact, I recommend it to anyone who is looking to make some positive changes in their life. The gist is that humans are goal-seeking individuals. Once we determine a goal we work to achieve it through a self-correcting system, directed by our own experiences utilizing positive and negative conditioning, and ultimately moving toward the positive for a successful outcome.

I thought about my own situation and realized regardless of the frequency of which I painted, if I was in fact continuing to employ bad habits or other unnecessary or negative strategies, it would therefore follow that I would continue to produce undesirable results. I needed to look at my work with complete honesty to determine what I liked and what I didn’t like about it. Once I was able to quantify the compositional elements into these categories, I could then make the necessary changes. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

To be continued…

Clearing the Cobwebs

2011-10-31T13:04:00.003-06:00

A year and a half since my last entry and much to share. I plan to post something substantial soon, but in the meantime, my website has been updated and you can see what I've been working on at www.jaredsteinberg.com and Twitter. Please check back soon.

A Time of Quiet

2010-01-24T08:39:00.001-07:00

2009 ended quietly and, so far, 2010 continues the trend for me. I don’t have many new works to show, as I’ve been working on several commissioned projects that will be finished soon. In the meantime, I am taking a step back to revisit the fundamentals of composition, value, painting and storytelling.

I feel like I have been saying the same things again and again, to the point where I’ve bored myself with repetition. So, to quote from the Paul Simon song Hurricane Eye:

When speech becomes a crime

Silence leads the spirit

Over the bridge of time…

… Peaceful as a hurricane eye.

The Future of Art?

2009-12-08T07:16:00.001-07:00

I walked into the classroom, the floorboard creaking under each step. Though I had fifteen minutes to spare, there were already at least a dozen other artists gathered and stationed at their easels for the life drawing class. I roamed around hoping to find a spot with an unobstructed view of the stage area and luckily found a gap where I would actually be able to see the model. I marked a spot by setting my large sketchbook down on the ground; territorial pissing.

As I inspected the stage, I noticed a purple drape flowing over a single chair. Nothing more. The model arrived shortly after I set up my easel, and after some discussion with the session coordinator, she disrobed and found a comfortable seated pose as the lights were adjusted to bring out contrast in her figure.

The first sitting lasted twenty minutes and flew by. During the break, I was sharpening my pencils when I looked up to find a familiar smiling face walking in. It was my uncle and it was good to see him there. We talked for a few moments and then he went off to find a view of his own to draw from as the model returned for the next session.

During the following break, we strolled around the room a bit, taking notice of some works by the other artists. One particular setup caught my eye as well as my uncle’s. A notebook computer was set up on some sort of frame, much like an electric keyboard rig. The artist was composing directly on to the computer through some advanced form of Photoshop.

Admittedly, I was a little put off, but my uncle was intrigued. He started inquiring about the setup as I tuned the conversation out to browse other works. There was one particular part I did catch, however, and that was the student’s remark who said this was “just another medium” to work from.

To a point, I agree with his statement. I am certainly not a technophobe but do have boundaries for how I employ certain high-tech tools. In terms of the actual art process, I am more of a traditionalist. I have difficulty enough embracing giclée printing from original work, let alone art that has been produced entirely in a digital format. It is my opinion that the aesthetic qualities lost in translation to a digital format diminish the experience of the viewer; things like texture and consequently, the flattening of light, to name a few. Furthermore, it seems the artist isn’t really challenged within this sterilized, artificial setup. All the tools he or she will ever need are right there in the program: all the colors, tools, format, etc. There is no struggle for the artist to overcome and no reason to find an innovative solution to a problem. The only limiting factor is the artists own skills.

The evening soon ended and as my uncle and I left the building, we discussed our opinions of “painting” with computers. Ultimately, we’re looking forward to more art sessions with our traditional tools. If you have any opinion on technology and art, please feel free to share.

The Art of Self Perception

2009-11-13T07:46:00.001-07:00

She held up the drawing to me- a self-portrait. I asked her what she thought of it and she said liked it, yet admitted she could have demonstrated a wider range of value. I agreed.

I didn’t want to say too much. I didn’t want to criticize. That certainly that wasn’t the point. The drawing was merely a mark in time; the beginning of her process. Who was I to judge her perceived self? I explained to her the first time I showed my mug to the public. Mind you, this was not the first self-portrait I ever did, merely the first one I was actually comfortable enough to show.

“Your nose isn’t that big,” someone assured me.

“Your nose should be bigger,” someone else declared.

“Your face is fatter,” I was told.

And so it went. I received an equal amount of praise and criticism from friends and family alike... whether I wanted to or not.

A portrait is challenging enough, but a self-portrait even more so. We know ourselves better than anyone else but can easily get caught up in preconceived ideas about who we are. Consequently, we tend to view ourselves in a subjective light revealing our own biases and criticisms of ourselves through the rendering of facial features in terms of exaggeration, distortion, addition or omission. In some instances, these embellishments are deliberate, but often this is not the case. Not to mention the complexity of technical skills it requires to draw a face in the first place.

This exercise in self-perception is designed for the artist to learn to view the world more objectively and thus, yield a work that rings true with its audience because it comes from a place of honesty. Finding this honesty in a self-portrait takes practice.

It has been over a year since the last self-portrait I painted. After my student presented her work, I felt it was time to do another. So yesterday I drew one (pictured to the right). I think it's good, but there's always room for improvement. We are all just works in progress. Please feel free to comment on any of this.

Artist Update (11/09)

2009-11-10T05:45:00.002-07:00

I just picked up my work from this year’s Lone Tree Art Exhibition where I had one piece that was accepted into the juried competition. Last week was the kick off for Denver Arts Week. I hosted an open studio for First Friday. It was nice to see some new faces.

This week, I return to a clean studio for art lessons and painting- I currently have three students and am working on several new paintings. Five of them are for several commissioned projects, including a jazz painting for the soon-to-be Rocky Mountain Hospital For Children which will open in 2010. I am very excited about this project.

I will post more blogs with images soon along with updates to my website. Until then…

Creators (or “My Name Is Earl For Pictures”)

2009-11-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

Last week, I attended a reception for “Creators”, a collection of new black and white portraits by Denver Artist, Sharon Brown. Sharon is an oil painter and her studio is just down the street from mine. Over the course of the last year, we have had several opportunities to collaborate, the last of which was for an exhibition/presentation with a group called Welcome Colorado.

Before the group arrived for that particular event, I was helping to get things in order at The Pattern Shop Studio. We had just finished setting up when she disappeared and quickly returned with a camera in hand. I’m not big on photos, but was flattered, assuming she was capturing the moment on film.

“Why don’t you stand up against that wall,” she directed, moving me near a self-portrait of mine. I straightened my posture and beamed right into the camera. Usually, I detest getting my picture taken, but I was rather excited for the upcoming event and couldn't conceal my ear to ear grin.

“Don’t smile,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I thought I misunderstood what she said.

“Don’t smile. I want a serious shot of you. It’s for a project of mine.”

I was confused. I thought about all the times I didn’t want to smile for a picture and now I was being asked not to and I couldn’t help myself. For the first time, maybe ever, I actually had to suppress happiness for a photograph. Oh, the irony. It took a few takes to get a decent shot with my eyes open (I seem to have the same problem as Earl in My Name Is Earl when it comes to keeping my eyes open for pictures). Thank goodness for digital cameras.

After she took the picture, she explained to me that she had taken my photograph along with a number of other artists in the RiNo area and was working to put together a show of black and white, monochromatic oil paintings of all the creative people she knew. Last Friday was the opening for that show, which, by the way, if you’re in the Denver area for this First Friday (November 6th), will be open for your viewing pleasure; just down the street, in fact, from my studio which will also be open.

The reception for Creators was wonderful- Sharon and her husband are such gracious hosts. There were quite a few people and the paintings were very well done. She thoughtfully arranged each painting to make sure it was paired with another for one reason or another. Together, the body of work made for a warm, intriguing, ethereal atmosphere that really captured a nice depth in the facial features. I would certainly recommend seeing the show. Maybe after that, come down to my studio... just down the block- I’ve got new paintings to show you too.

For more information, please visit:
www.jaredsteinberg.com
www.patternshopstudio.com
www.rivernorthart.com
and http://www.denver.org/DenverArtsWeek/

On The Surface, Part III

2009-10-28T08:10:00.000-06:00

Tony and I returned to his woodshop from the storage unit. During the trip he talked about his early experiences with the professional art world. The topic seemed to stir something up in him as he couldn’t understand why gallery owners and dealers typically pigeon-hole artists into a single type of work- a topic for debate with many artists.

On one hand, you have dealers and brokers who are attempting to sell something based off a certain level of consistency and thus quality. Without being able to depend on that, it would be a challenge to sell artwork. On the other hand, artists tend to explore options and variety through composition, at times varying the style or approach of the subject matter based on what they are feeling at any given time. For some, repeating the successes of past works to create consistent, predictable work can take the joy out of the creative process. Tony sided with the latter argument, citing the negative impact it had on his father and his father’s artist friends. I have my own thoughts on the matter, but will discuss that in another entry.

In any case, we began cutting down strips of maple to secure to the backside of the hardboard surfaces. During the process, Tony handed me a brochure for The Santa Fe Trail. I remember he had mentioned it earlier, but now that it was before me, he beamed as he told me the whole story. Essentially, he created the entire brochure- a commissioned project by the state of New Mexico where he spent a year, on location, creating a map of the trail, the corresponding text and some of the most sophisticated black and white drawings I have ever seen. I was amazed by the variety of creativity within the brochure itself and understood more than ever his frustration with the gallery system.

Here was a man who possessed talents to do life-like portraits, design a brochure, create a map, build furniture and was learning chemistry in his spare time, in addition to a list of many other creative endeavors. With all of these skills, it was easy for me to understand his concern as it related to pursuing art as a full-time career. Tony was simply beyond category. “I don’t want to paint just trees,” he told me.

By the end of the night, we had cut materials for four boards, glued them on to the back of the hardboard surface and sanded down the edges so the backing was completely flush with the facade. They looked just as I pictured and I was thrilled with my new painting surfaces.

Tony let me keep a copy of the brochure which I took home and promptly shared with JQ. As Tony and I work to refine process and product with the painting boards, he continues to challenge me to improve as both an artist and a free thinker. I look forward not only to working with him on more projects, but returning his generosity and helping him in any way I can. Surely, there will be more stories to come.

On The Surface, Part II

2009-10-26T12:25:00.000-06:00

David and I walked up the driveway toward an open garage on a warm, late summer night. An older gentleman stood on the left side of the entry, lingering from his exchange with Tony who turned around to see us approaching. We shook hands as David introduced me, providing a little background for us being there. I needed help putting together a wooden surface for my paintings and was hoping Tony would be willing to advise me on the best way to do that. It didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to the endeavor. After the introductions, Tony handed a painted canvas over to the other gentleman who thanked him and left soon thereafter. The painting was a portrait- very well done and realistically rendered.

Tony invited us into his house where he showed some samples of his own paintings. A few of them were painted on wooden boards, giving us a point of reference for the project. I had no idea he was an artist and was very impressed with the photo-realistic quality of his paintings. I asked him if he had ever shown his work in a more formal setting such as a gallery. He just smiled back and told me he only painted for himself. Seeing I was genuinely interested in his work, Tony took us back to a cramped room in the far corner of the house that served as his artist studio. There, he had rigged an easel up to a wall with a makeshift lighting arrangement hanging from the ceiling. On the easel was a painting in progress with a reference photograph tacked above it and to the right; there was little difference between the two. I realized then the painting Tony handed over earlier in the garage must have been a commissioned work.

We soon returned to the wood shop and got down to business. David excused himself to return home as Tony and I began to discuss technical matters. I had brought over two boards that were cut in half from one giant 8’ x 8’ sheet of hardboard. With the help of his giant table saw, it didn’t take long for us to cut six new rectangular surfaces down to size for our first attempt at these painting boards. Tony advised me on options for preparing the surface and we agreed to meet in the next week or so to apply a cradle/frame backing to the eighth-inch thick boards, providing both support and a nice finish to the wood.

I left Tony’s wood shop that night charged. His knowledge, selflessness and background in art were refreshing and inspirational. I returned to my studio that week and experimented with several different methods for priming the wooden surfaces, keeping in mind the scientific properties I had learned from Tony and the other woodworkers I had consulted with. Two weeks later, I returned to Tony’s garage.

The evening began with a trip out to his storage unit where he had some scraps of maple he thought would suffice as the backing to the boards. During our conversation on the way, he told me a little bit more about himself and I was happy to find some common ground in the way we view the world. Like me, he had worked in corporate america at one time and through his own circumstances, eventually realized that way of earning a living was not for him, so he pursued a career as a self-employed woodworker. Though he was extremely gifted in his craft, he actually was trained at an early age to be a painter. Something about the experience, however, ultimately soured him to the world of professional art as he saw his father who was also an aspiring artist and his father’s artist-friends deal with the strange world of those who earn a living selling other people’s art.

To Be Continued...

On The Surface, Part I

2009-10-05T10:04:00.000-06:00

The ring of the saw blade glided to a stop after the last board was cut. Fluorescent lights from the woodshop fell dimly on the driveway as the sun settled behind a gentle pink summer sky blanketing the Denver suburb. We rounded up a group of four one-inch maple strips to apply to the backside of newly trimmed rectangular hardboard. This was all part of a specific painting surface I had been trying to figure out how to make since June. I was fortunate enough to find the assistance of a professional woodworker and delighted in how perfectly this dream seemed to be coming together.

Earlier in the spring, I was short on cash and couldn’t afford to buy canvas material to paint on. I had some old scraps of hardboard stored in the studio, so I took them out, cleaned them up and primed them with gesso to begin new work. I loved the way the paint responded to the hard surface. Not since college had I worked on boards, and even though this re-acquaintance was circumstantial, I couldn’t have been more pleased with the results.

I did notice after I applied the gesso primer and began the actual painting, the long boards bowed ever so slightly. I wondered if it was possible to straighten the wood in order to make them more presentable. I knew other manufacturers were already making similar products, but after I contacted a few, it became obvious that commissioning them to produce custom sized work was not the most cost-effective strategy. Besides, I wanted something that was unique to me- something I had a hand in putting together, without relying entirely on somebody else to produce it for me.

After spending some time at the hardware store and consulting with several friends who were at least a little familiar with woodworking, I wasn’t getting any further along in the process. I made several calls to various wood suppliers in the Denver area, but didn’t find them to be much help either aside from providing me with suggestions for the right materials and some basic knowledge of the properties of wood. Though I was very impressed by their overall attention to detail, I was no closer to finding what I was looking for. I decided I needed to find a subject matter expert who was willing to consult and assist me in the process.

I made one call to my friend David, who seems to know just about everyone who ever did anything under the sun. Sure enough, it didn’t take but a second for him to think of a neighbor who happened to be a professional woodworker, making cabinets and furniture for a living. One week later, I found myself alongside David, walking up the driveway to meet Tony.

To be continued…

Artist Update

2009-09-24T09:22:00.002-06:00

In the midst of a busy week, so I don’t have much time to write, but here’s the lowdown in my art world. I learned I was accepted into a juried show for the 2009 Lone Tree Arts Exhibition which runs from October 17th through the 31st here in Lone Tree, Colorado. I’ve been making good progress on the new hardboard painting surfaces and have put together eight of them at this point. I hope to have most, if not all of them ready for my open studio event on November 6th in conjunction with Denver Arts Week. I’ve also been enjoying teaching private art lessons to several students. It’s good to revisit the fundamentals of art while passing them along to other artists. Well, that’s all for now. Next week’s blog will delve deeper into the story behind my new painting boards. Stay tuned…

Sketchaday

2009-09-15T09:28:00.000-06:00

The artwork-a-day concept has been on my radar for the last three years. I originally learned about it in through an art magazine. The article described an oil-painter who challenged himself to produce an oil-painting a day. He then offered these small-scale renderings through a blog site and ultimately found quite a market for himself while his reputation grew. Recently, another friend of mine began doing a sketch-a-day for his blog. The thought intrigued me, but not to the point where I wanted to commit a piece every day to post online. Never the less, the idea loomed in the back of my mind.

Last week, I found myself frustrated over my inability to effectively draw a specific concept I was thinking. I tried to think of a solution as this problem has been affecting me in little ways over the last few months. I soon realized, with my time in the studio recently diminished, I have been focusing all my limited sessions solely on painting which apparently has been at the expense of other aspects of my art. My work is more than simply applying pigment to a surface; it’s about being deliberate where I put it. To achieve the level of detail I intended for my work, I needed to refine my hand/eye coordination. It then became obvious I needed to find a way to employ hand/eye coordination exercises into my daily routine. That’s when I thought a sketch per day might worth while.

So, for the past week, I've made it a point to sketch at least one page’s worth of material; a sort of art journal I suppose. There, I’ve been conceiving ideas and polishing others as I prepare for new works. More importantly, I’ve been trying to employ more still-lifes into my observations. The consistency and nature of these exercises are really helping me improve my drafting skills. I believe this will translate well on the new cradle boards I’ve been developing. Who knows, if I come up with something worthwhile, I may even post it. Stay tuned...

Misty Mountain Hop

2009-09-09T07:38:00.000-06:00

He took the wild flowers gathered from their hike earlier in the day and put them in a little vase centered on the picnic table near the fire pit. As night softly fell over them, he lit the fire, opened a cheap bottle of wine and poured two glasses for himself and his lover as the sun’s pale glow lingered over the mountain peaks.

A few glasses later and she playfully persuaded him to get his guitar and play a couple of tunes for her. He gladly obliged and retrieved the instrument, taking a seat on a large rock facing her. He strummed out the crisp sound of fresh strings from his acoustic guitar, the notes reaching into the valley, eventually dissipating into the blue air. He chose a selection of songs they both knew well; the soundtrack of their romance.

Not far away, a stranger walked leisurely down a gravel road that ran by their campsite. When he came upon the faint sound of music, he lingered for a moment to listen and advanced at a slower, discreet pace along the path, stopping as the sound grew loud enough for him to hear every note perfectly without disrupting the performance. Detached and relishing in the warm summer evening, he stood- the red glow of his cigar bouncing to the rhythm like some ghost conductor as pine trees cast occasional silhouettes, rounding out the audience. Through the brush, he could see her swaying to the rhythm in front of the fire like a dancing phoenix. What a painting that would be, he thought, hoping the fire would burn the scene into his memory and not fade away.

The quality of musicianship surprised him to the point that when the song finished, he nearly applauded, but decided it would be selfish to do so and maybe even awkward so he resisted. No, he thought, better not to disrupt the trance of the muse and the musician. Oh, how the stranger wished he had his guitar at that moment, but then he wished for a lot of things. He felt younger, and took in a few more songs unnoticed, living out the moment vicariously.

The Necessity of Art

2009-09-07T09:45:00.001-06:00

For the past few months, many folks have come up to me offering their condolences for the decline of the art market as the world adjusts to the changing economic climate.

“I’m not surprised really,” they are quick to point out. “It’s not like art is a necessity.” They go on to console me with stories of other businesses beyond those in the unnecessary art-world who are dropping off after years of successful entrepreneurship.

While I would agree that food and shelter are more important, I believe art very much a necessity. The arts are a sensory way to communicate, capable of bringing about social awareness as well as provoking more introspective self-reflection. Art can give hope. It can offer a glimmer of what could be, even in the darkest of circumstances. A reflection that when connected with its intended audience can delve deep to deal with complex issues or simply radiate beauty in places where there may be none otherwise. Art is therapy, providing us another avenue to make sense of our world. It is a personal form of expression that if we were unable to share would make for a very dull world. Now, more than ever, I believe, art is absolutely necessary.

Bitter Sweet

2009-09-01T07:57:00.000-06:00

The candy-man inspected the work I had just placed on the easel, hands clasped behind his back. I opted to begin the private viewing with work from my ‘Scapes series; a body of work less descript than my other paintings in terms of content and more focused on energy and color.

He spent a few moments examining the work along with my friend who brought him in hopes of turning me on to a new collector. “Lobby art,” he flatly commented.

There was a time when I would have thanked him for coming and promptly asked him to leave, but I held my tongue. He took a step closer to the painting, head moving from side to side as he scanned the horizontal format of the work.

“Are those letters in there?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, “just part of the application of paint. I’ve developed my brushstroke technique to a point of rhythm where a sort of language is emerging.”

He remained fixed on the work with no acknowledgement of my reply, leaving me wondering if he even heard anything I had just said.

“Do you like sushi?” he asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” my brow raised at the absurdity of his question.

“Because I think I see it written right here,” he said pointing to an area in the left portion of the sky. Indeed, I could see an “S” shaped brush stroke, but thought it was a reach to spell out the rest of the word. It was certainly never my intention and I couldn’t get over the fact that he would really think I would put subliminal advertising for fish into my work. I was beginning to think the candy-man was trying desperately to hit upon some gold nugget of knowledge to stroke his ego, but he was reaching too far and his commentary was awkward at best.

I bit my lip and remained silent. He continued to grasp for details, occasionally making comments to my friend as I accelerated the rotation of works to put our forced meeting to an end, fully aware he didn’t much care for my art. All the while, he continued making vain attempts to guess the motives behind my paintings. These were presented not as questions, but through cool assertions as if he had done the work himself. Eventually, he was able to say something complementary about one of my older works.

He was intrigued by the cubist approach in the composition and soon revealed that at one time he had painted. He went on to explain how he had set aside his creative ambitions to pursue his own candy company. It seemed to me, his stifled creativity was coming out in the form of criticizing others. Once I realized that, I began engaging him through his perceptions of art and sure enough, he softened up a little. By the time he left, I felt we had reached a common denominator, though I knew this mutual appreciation would never result in a sale… and I was fine with that.

Ode To Yellow

2009-08-26T13:12:00.001-06:00

Oh, yellow
She's a picky color
For she only gets along
With about half the others

Look at her wrong
And she’ll turn green
A neutral, sickly hue
Like none you’ve ever seen

But how I love her
When she is most pure
The most vibrant color short of white
A nine, for sure

The Devil Is In The Details

2009-08-20T08:22:00.002-06:00

Monday night, JQ and I went to go see The Dead Weather perform at my preferred music venue, The Ogden Theater, here in Denver. I had been looking forward to the show for months as the group features one of my favorite musicians, Jack White, on drums. Prior to the show, we met up with some friends at a bar nearby. At 8 o’clock we rushed through the rain to find a substantial number of other latecomers waiting in line for the sold out show. Once inside the building, we were able to work our way to a very good spot next to the soundboard.

We settled down and listened to the first band already in the middle of their set. After they finished, the roadies to The Dead Weather came out on stage, providing sound checks for the audio engineer. Each wore a black suit with a derby hat and a blue tie. JQ and I both looked at each other, acknowledging the attention to detail in something as seemingly insignificant as the dress code for the roadies.

Soon, the lights dimmed and the band came out to the stage. A powerful drum explosion erupted through the crowd’s applause with rapid-fire beats channeled straight to my heart. By the time I gathered myself back together, the rest of the band had joined in and the music sustained the heights to which I had been so violently propelled. I looked on to the stage to find a soothing blue background punctuated by the black and white colors of a tapestry, instruments and costume. Black butterflies tickling my back, as the band on fire seized our attention for the next hour and a half with a brand of rock and roll I had never witnessed before. JQ and I grooved the duration, enjoying every moment. The chemistry of sound, showmanship and lighting all working together, spellbinding the audience from start to finish.

Again, like my experience At The Theater, the meticulousness really made a difference for this show- the diligence and precision of it- paired with sound, atmosphere, drama, lighting and other visual elements. It soundly reaffirmed that when great care is applied to the most minute details of any production, whether it's a concert, a play, film or art exhibit, the impact can be completely breathtaking. The performance certainly fueled the creative fire.

P.S. Jack White is an amazing talent.

The Significance of Impressionism

2009-08-11T09:12:00.000-06:00

Last Sunday, I finally completed an essay I had been toiling over for months on Understanding Impressionism. It is a subject I hold dear, as the Impressionists have been a major influence on my work ever since my college days. Their approach to color and composition fostered, in part, the foundation for my own theories and systems on those same subjects which I have advanced into my own style.

Please click here to read the article. I hope you enjoy it.

Decisions, Decisions

2009-08-04T18:58:00.000-06:00

The creative process is about decisiveness. It is knowing where to put your energy and how much attention is required by a particular area at any given time. In short, it is a balancing act, but once you learn how to achieve that balance, the results come easier and the creativity flows because you are no longer wrapped up in thought. You are then connected with intention.

How Are You?

2009-07-29T09:58:00.002-06:00

"How Are You?"

It’s a question most of us are asked on a daily basis, though it seems the expectations of a response are generally superficial at best. Most offer a brief, upbeat answer that may or may not be true without going into any level of detail, such as Good, and you? or maybe I’m alright to name a few. Rarely, I find, is the question asked with the expectation of an honest, let alone detailed, response. It is under this premise I operate from, typically keeping my replies short and sweet, quickly returning the same query back to its initiator.

As I grow older, the question becomes more complicated and perplexing. Given the nature of my work, alone in the studio, I do not typically interact with many people on a daily basis, nor do I have a variety of experiences to draw from. My leisure time is largely spent reading, playing music or being outdoors when I can. I don’t come home from work with the latest office gossip, wrestling over the nonsense and injustices of office politics. I don’t have any tales of adventure from my travels. I have no children to speak of (though I must admit O has provided me with a story or two, but that is a rare occasion). My journey is largely solitary and my process is thus internal.

Each opportunity I have to create, I learn so much about myself and my craft. I see the world in new ways. I go to places in my head, philosophizing. I pause to consider my relationship with the universe and how my mind and body are connected to everything. All the while, my art continues to grow as I nurture and mark its progress like a gardener tending to his garden. Thoughts appear in and out of my head like butterflies. I enjoy their beauty for the fleeting moments they are with me, but they often leave as quickly as they arrive, never to be shared with another. Occasionally, they might return again to impress details into my memory. I have been getting better at capturing them through a note or a sketch, but the experience is uniquely mine and often difficult to share, either because I find it challenging to put into words or pressed to recall critical elusive details, leaving the larger concept incomplete and hardly worth mentioning.

Every now and then, I’ll find myself explaining how I am to someone. I don’t think many people really hear me after the first two minutes. When I notice they’re disengaged, I wrap up my part of the dialogue as quickly as possible, wondering why I ventured to speak in the first place. The conversations I enjoy are those of a slower pace allowing for accuracy and reciprocity. When it comes down to it, I’d much rather express myself through painting, or perhaps a song or writing.

So how am I?

Just depends if you really want to know.

The Benefits of Teaching

2009-07-21T08:03:00.001-06:00

Lately, I’ve been taking on students for private instruction. Though it’s a path I’ve considered for some time, I was hesitant to move forward on it because I wasn't quite sure what area of expertise I wanted to offer. Two years ago, I taught several students: one was an experienced artist who wanted to learn oil-painting specifically and the other was learning to paint for the first time. After the sessions ran their course, I convinced myself it wasn’t worth pursuing any further, convincing myself I simply didn't have the time as I toiled over the inadequacies of my studio with excuse after excuse.

This year, I’ve had several inquiries from friends who were either interested in learning more about painting or wanted to further advance their techniques. After some coaxing, I agreed to develop curriculum specifically for each student. So for the past month, in addition to my own painting, I have created lesson plans that focus on the exploration of color. I started by reviewing my original plans from two years ago to revise and improve them while researching and organizing new information. Keeping a general audience in mind has forced me to examine details in a way that I hadn’t for quite awhile to disseminate information in a pragmatic way. In doing so, I am becoming reacquainted with some basic elements I normally take for granted. This process of taking a step back is not only enabling me to become a better teacher, but I am becoming a better artist.

Colorful Intentions

2009-07-16T06:11:00.006-06:00

As I continue to advance my painting technique, I am taking greater care in my use of color. Conveying a sense of depth is paramount; more so now than actual content. What this means is visualizing the colors before I apply them to the canvas. This is a new concept for me. In the past, I have simply had a vague idea of what I was going to paint and thus, approached my work reacting to the initial thought through a stream of consciousness. I am changing method that now in favor of a more deliberate approach through color and value. The result will allow for more dynamic and dramatic work.

The painting to the right, (with the working title After The Storm) shown in progress, is what I would call a crossover painting in that I began the work before I made this realization. I am now finding myself retrofitting the painting with my new technique. It will be interesting to see the end result.

Same Page

2009-07-13T07:43:00.000-06:00

We stood in her home office and I could already tell things had changed. The smell of peppermint vaporized from a blue-neon contraption on a table to my right. The desk was neatly arranged before me, as she went on about how she was working with someone to help her feng-shui and organize the room. I sensed a level of enthusiasm and calmness in her voice that had not been there before. She explained the room is where she would be spending most of her time now that her traveling obligations had diminished, though she didn’t say why. She wanted the space to convey a sense of peacefulness and positive energy.

I smiled thinking this is exactly what I have been trying to achieve through my paintings. We were already in agreement.

I asked her what kinds of things made her feel good and she rattled off a shortlist of elements such as water and sky, in addition to a few locations around the globe and some other things. My mind was already at work putting together concepts I would later flesh out through a battery of sketches. I knew when I left her house that morning this commissioned project would be every bit of a pleasure for me to paint as it would be for her to receive.

Art Updates

2009-07-08T07:38:00.002-06:00

I continue to plug away on six new paintings I am planning to show in either August or September for an open studio event. Progress in one of the works can be seen through the images below (the piece, still not completed, is tentatively called Terra Spill). I just completed two commissioned works which will be appearing on my website soon and am creating concepts for another major commissioned work for a collector of mine.

This weekend, I will be building my first new wooden supports, marking my departure from canvas to a new format. I am very excited about this development and even more so about the direction my work is taking. Over the next few weeks, I will be conceiving compositions for these new surfaces and am smiling as I type this.

Séraphine

2009-07-01T07:06:00.000-06:00

On Sunday, I had the opportunity to see the film, Séraphine, with some friends as part of the Denver French Film Festival sponsored by Alliance Francaise. We began with a reception of wine and appetizers at the Tivoli’s StarzFilm Center. There I sat, listening to fragments of French conversation, occasionally understanding a random word or phrase. I decided then I need to get serious about learning the language. A short time later, we were seated in the theater as the room darkened and the film began.

Séraphine is the story of Séraphine Louis (a.k.a. Séraphine de Senlis), a self-taught French painter who wasn’t discovered until she was in her late forties by the famous art collector/dealer Wilhelm Uhde. The movie covers the period of her life from when she met Wilhelm in 1912 to shortly after 1932, when she was admitted into a mental institution. Along the way, we gain a better understanding of this complex character's quirky personality influenced by religion, a manic work ethic, a spirit freed through the outdoors and naïve painting punctuated with song.

Whenever I watch films about other artists, I always look for a common thread; something I can relate to in personality traits, motivation or process. In this particular film, there is a scene when, after she is discovered and begins producing work seriously, Séraphine begins sharing her work with those around her. Proud of her effort, she stands as an easel behind various paintings, gauging the reaction of whomever happens to be around at the moment for a series of private presentations. The camera shifts between Séraphine’s eyes beaming in eager anticipation of a favorable reaction to the facial expressions of her captured audience as they receive her work in a range of emotions from happiness to uncertainty, tolerance to astonishment, and indifference to sheer admiration.

I have had similar experiences. One of my favorite things to do is take JQ to the studio after a night on the town for a private showing. There, I select the right music to set the mood and place my work on an easel for her with the best possible lighting. I have also had clients come by to view the final product of a customized commissioned painting. I make them face the other direction or close their eyes until the work is ready to view to get the full effect. A positive reaction always touches me in a very personal way. It makes me realize how powerful art and the connection from one being to another is.

As I watched Séraphine, I was touched by her determination and knowing. She didn’t care what anybody thought of her work, save Wilhelm. She painted because that was what she had been told to do by her guardian angels and she was determined to listen to them. Though her peers considered her crazy for thinking this way, I believe she was very much in touch with what I can only describe as her intention, from a very deep and connected place. Her life was never pretty; often crude and awkward in fact, but her work was unquestionably beautiful and came from a place that had nothing to do with the external factors of her circumstances. I highly recommend this movie and give it five tubes of paint (based on a five tube rating system).

Feedback

2009-06-26T07:50:00.001-06:00

Recently, I participated in The Art Students League of Denver’s annual Summer Art Market. I have exhibited and taken part in various festivals and events over the last ten years. Each event I participate in, I listen to the comments and feedback, for better or worse, which inevitably come my way. At this year’s event, I was very pleased with the feedback I received, not because it was spun any particular way, but because it was obvious people at least understood my creative intention.

After my experience at last year’s Artist Project in Chicago, I made a concerted effort to tighten up my approach in painting. This meant focusing on style and really working to render visually what was forming in my head. As somebody explained it to me, my paintings are becoming more focused. It’s nice to know when the work you put into something gets noticed.

References

2009-06-23T07:43:00.002-06:00

Occasionally, I’ve been asked if I use photographs for reference or work from a live setting for my compositions. There have been times, particularly for my Narrative Series, where I have used photographs. I have also referred to them or worked on-location for various paintings within my ‘Scapes Series. If I do refer to photos, my time with them is always brief, relative to the painting process. I use them to understand visual relationships; to get a better idea how something works in terms of mechanics; to learn its relative size and how it might impact or augment other elements within the composition; to understand its energy so that I may transpose and project its essential visual elements through the painting.

Once I gain this understanding, I quickly do away with my original references as I feel staying with them for too long hinders my approach. The composition, to me, is more important than the accuracy of subject matter. Once I feel like I have learned what I need to from my observations, I then look toward my instincts to guide me the rest of the way in the painting.

Outside Insight

2009-06-18T08:53:00.003-06:00

The woman stood just on the fringe of my artist booth, scanning each wall of my paintings from beneath her sunglasses at the summer festival.

“I really love your work,” she said.

“Why thank you very much,” I replied, flattered by her words.

She walked in closer to view the details of my work.

“Wow- there’s so much to these! I mean, if you get up close, there are patterns and great swatches of color, but as you step back it almost turns into something completely different. Reminds me of Batik.”

I had never heard of the term before and mistakenly thought she said boutique, not entirely sure how to respond. Was it some sort of floral reference perhaps? I was baffled and simply nodded my head, not knowing what else to do other than remain silent and assume she meant it as a complement. Leaving the tent, she smiled at me as I wished her a good afternoon.

Once she was out of earshot, JQ offered clarification over the comment. “It’s sort of a design within a design,” she explained.

After I got over my own ignorance, I smiled thinking how insightful the comment was. When we got home, I looked it up and felt gratified. The woman truly understood my intention, providing me not only with an affirmation that I am connecting to an audience, but a path of clarity through a new perspective.

Observations From The Summer Art Market

2009-06-15T07:37:00.001-06:00

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to participate in The Art Students League of Denver’s Summer Art Market, an annual art festival with over 250 artists from the Denver area. The last event I attended like it was over a year ago at The Artist Project in Chicago. It was there I was able to visualize how I wanted my paintings to appear. What, I thought to myself, does a painting by Jared Steinberg look like? As, I reviewed the paintings that hung on the walls of The Merchandise Mart last year, I considered my style, composition and subject matter, recognizing where I would need to channel my efforts to fulfill the vision. Looking over my booth at this year’s event, I noted the evident progress of my work while again acknowledging areas I need to address in order to advance my ideas.

Though I have been focusing on my style for the past year, it is the details within the presentation I now need to focus on. On the Saturday, the first day of the Art Market, I perused through the festival, paying attention to the other artist booths. I realized how the ones I really admired created such a captivating atmosphere through their presentation; from the format of the work, to varying degrees of consistency, down to the exhibition space itself- it became clear to me what I must do. I jotted down a few notes for reference and will be taking time this summer to put them into practice.

Apart from my selfish observations, I was truly amazed by the diversity at the festival this year: three-dimensional work, two-dimensional, pastels, paintings, drawings, abstract, grass-roots, contemporary, traditional, representational, floral, figurative- you name it, I saw it. All of which served to fuel a very high-quality, energetic show that I was pleased to be a part of.

Dream Into Action

2009-06-12T08:02:00.000-06:00

As I continue to evolve as an artist, my creative path becomes clearer and more deliberate. Yesterday, I wrote about my experience at the theater which served to reinforce ideas I have been considering, as they relate to the future of my artwork. It is not my desire to simply make paintings. I want to create work that will make people stop in their tracks and forget where they are… if only for a moment. I want people to stop and take a breath; to find a space where they can meditate on a given work. I realize this may not be a unique desire. Certainly this is what many artists hope to achieve through their craft, however, I am beginning to understand just how I can make this happen.

I want to create an experience for the viewer; an escape to lose themselves in; the same type of trance I discussed in my recollection of the play. The art is the hook to achieve this, of course, but I believe there are other factors that can contribute, as I draw upon my other skills and interests. Through the hands of an artist and the discerning eyes of a judge, I am working to combine the actor within me- to sell the illusion of the art- while the musician creates energy and movement, and the writer expresses the passage through a story or poem. The experience will be enhanced by the pristine conditions of a well-staged space with proper lighting.

So, there is the thought. The intention I put out. I am excited to send my words into action.

At The Theater

2009-06-11T08:45:00.000-06:00

Amy called me yesterday with an extra ticket to the theater. I gladly accepted the invitation. It had been so long since I attended a show, I didn’t even think to ask what was playing. We arrived at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts with just enough time to park the car, pick up the tickets at the box-office, walk up the stairs to the fourth floor, catch our breath, and find our seats.

In the two minutes we had to spare before the lights dimmed, I looked around the expanse of the Ellie Caulkins Theater. The stage set before us with giant lush-red curtains flowing down to the ground. Moments later, they would pull open like hands from our eyes, marking that instant of surprise to reveal a simple, effective set design. I observed the theater’s shape. The intentional placement of wood, lights and beams. The dampened acoustics creating a sanctuary of silence. Everything crisp and well thought out. The lights dimmed and I delighted in the atmosphere as the focus gravitated toward the stage.

The performance was a one-man act that grew on me as it progressed. After the characters were established, the movement of the story became more fluid, and an array of impressions ensued along with the selling of the act itself- all took their time to weave a spell that transfixed me in the end. It was an impressive ninety-minute monologue that clearly won over the rest of the audience too. The lights came on and we all stood up and applauded as the actor returned to the stage to soak it all in.

Amy and I departed at a leisurely pace, roaming to explore the sculptures and giant murals that adorned the theater’s periphery. This is what it’s about, I thought to myself. The care and attention to details! Everything was about the presentation- from the exterior architecture, to the lobby, to the heart and soul of it all – the stage and performance itself. And because of that, the experience had an impact. I considered my artwork- where it’s going, what I want it to be and went on to think about possibilities…

Site Update

2009-06-09T20:02:00.005-06:00

Today I uploaded images of new paintings on to my website. The work I've posted recently, over the last month, is a precursor to the creative path ahead. By fall of this year, I expect to demonstrate a definite progression with my art as it focuses more on color and form than actual content. The painting I posted today, a scene of downtown Chicago, illustrates it best as the eye moves from the sides of the painting into the center and the work becomes more abstract. Stay tuned.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

2009-06-04T10:36:00.000-06:00

Lately I've been mulling over my career as I do from time to time. I like to check in and see what's working, what isn't, what's driving me creatively, and what I've outgrown. In a recent session, I decided the name "Yellow House Studio" no longer matches my intentions as they relate to my creative space. When I first moved to my studio-loft over five years ago, I had grand plans to foster an environment I could not only produce and show my artwork in, but would serve as a central place for creative types to share ideas and display their work as well.

The concept had been forming in my mind for some time and as it did, I learned Vincent Van Gogh had a similar concept for the studio-apartment he once rented in Arles, a city in the south of France. He referred to the building as "The Yellow House" and so when I moved into my studio, I thought it an apt title. Eventually, Van Gogh was able to convince Paul Gauguin to join him in this artist collective, but the effort never materialized beyond that.

Shortly after I moved into my place, I learned of an organization that was already forming to achieve the same goals I had envisioned- the River North Art Community (aka RiNo). Not wanting to double their efforts or compete against them, I joined RiNo and have been a part of this growing artist’s neighborhood ever since. There are now approximately fifty artist studio/galleries in the area. Since joining RiNo, I have had the freedom to focus more on my artwork as opposed to organizing a larger undertaking. Consequently, I have shifted my focus from the Yellow House concept I initially envisioned.

Considering that, I have decided to drop the "Yellow House" entirely and use my own name exclusively for future branding purposes. I now introduce you to Jared Steinberg’s Studio. Gallery open by appointment only ;). Please visit www.jaredsteinberg.com for more information.

Dreaming Of A Life

2009-05-26T08:28:00.000-06:00

I watched the Woody Allen film, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" with JQ last night. It is the story of two American women in their early twenties who go to Barcelona for the summer. There, they meet an artist who propositions them to spend a weekend together and through a series of events, a love-triangle forms and eventually becomes even more complicated as the artist's ex-lover enters the picture. Though I very much enjoyed the movie, there were really two elements that captivated me for the purpose of this blog.

The first was the way Allen successfully revealed the beauty of Barcelona through color and on-location scenes. The film has a red-tint to it, which I suspect is the influence of light specific to that particular region. Southern France, where Van Gogh painted for example, is well known for its yellowish light. The red in this film epitomized the passion of the story as well as the location itself. Additionally, there were various scenes of narrow streets, breathtaking architecture, cafés and the ocean which brought me closer to the experience, as if I was there.

The second part I found interesting was the life of the artist, as portrayed by Javier Bardem in the role of Juan Antonio: a renowned painter reveling in the prime of his passion and career. He was a charming character living his life fully- aware of his roots in family and career, a romantic, an intellectual- while appreciating the finer aspects of his life and remaining true to his art. Scenes of art openings, his home/studio, wine, taking friends on a tour of his hometown, hanging out with artists, poets and musicians all solidified the vision I have in my head of what I want my life to look like some day. Here's to hoping anyway. Watching artists portrayed in movies always serves to fuel my creative appetite. In this instance, it made me consider my life as an extension of my art... or vice versa.

Reconnecting

2009-05-20T20:23:00.001-06:00

I went plein air painting with my uncle yesterday. The morning heated up quickly in Denver, and by the time we hit the road around noon it was ninety degrees. As we approached the town of Morrison, a menacing expanse of thunderclouds hovered above the mountain range. The temperature cooled as we ascended the hill. From the passenger seat, I looked at the watercolor clouds swirling above us.

We parked the car and walked a short distance in a canyon’s path that ran along a mountain stream. The sound of running water, leaves rustling in the wind and fresh air made my anxiety disappear with every breath I took. We found a spot not too far away from the car and set up our easels. I took my time, thinking the weather might turn on us. Soon, my uncle was fully immersed in his painting while I sketched out some ideas and compositions. Half an hour later, I thought I felt a drop of rain on my hand which was followed by a smattering of additional drops. We quickly packed up our gear and I hurried for the car while my uncle took some pictures of the view he was working from. I was about 75 yards away from him and almost to the car when the rain began to get heavier, falling in light sheets against the backdrop of evergreens. The water patted the brim of my cowboy hat with increasing intensity as my uncle quickened his pace to the car. I opened the trunk and shoved my wet gear in it as he approached. By the time he got to the vehicle, I was already in the passenger seat as the rain fell freely.

We sat in the car and conversed as the cloudburst continued. Not even fifteen minutes later it began to taper off. We got out of the car and inspected the sky to determine if the rain would return and concluded it had likely passed, in spite of the gray skies that remained. Again, we returned to set up our easels in the same spot we had fled from earlier. Soon after I began to work again, I realized I was just pushing paint on paper. I just wasn’t feeling anything creatively. Instead of fighting through it, I put my brushes down and headed toward the stream.

I found a giant rock that appeared to be perfect for me to sit on, as it was closer to the belly of the river. I climbed a series of smaller ones to reach it and was soon perched on my new seat. It wasn't long before I found the rhythm of the water as it rushed behind me, passing beneath my feet, and continued to drift on down the mountain. I felt completely at ease and connected to the earth. I closed my eyes and meditated. As I silenced my thoughts, I began to understand the lesson of the day had little to do with any tangible work I created. This was a day for finding new seeds of creativity and merely observing them: seeing them; knowing them. This was my time to visualize possibilities without acting on them and more importantly, reconnecting with nature. I merely needed to listen and once I did, I felt passion and love coursing through my veins once again, just as effortlessly as the water was flowing all around me.

Real and Imagined

2009-05-18T07:11:00.000-06:00

On Sunday, I had an open studio event. As an independent artist, I am always looking for ways to find and connect with an audience. About once a month I open up my studio doors along with other artists in my neighborhood for an organized art-walk. Usually, this happens on the first Friday of every month, but this month, we decided to do an additional event on the third Sunday.

In the course of five hours I saw about seventy people walk through the door to see my work. On display were seven works from my Kabbalah series, along with a commissioned work, four cityscapes and an arrangement of three instrumental works from my Interludes series.

As I had the opportunity to speak with several folks, I began to notice a trend with a certain question. “Is that some place in particular,” they would ask, “or is it from your imagination?” The question seemed to be sparked by the two paintings shown on the right. In both cases the scenes were of fictitious locations, but it made me realize I like to blur the line between reality and imagination, dabbling between what is and what could be. Employing broad visual cues in my compositions enables me to stir up feeling and emotion from the viewer’s experience. I would lessen my chances of achieving this if my paintings focused more on the exactitude of an acute perspective through details and precision.

Artist Notes On New Work

2009-05-15T07:08:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I remember the view of the Colorado sky from our front lawn. The green hill enveloped me as I lie in its tall grass with my hands clasped behind my head and knees bent at ninety degree angles. Clouds appeared over the roof’s edge of the house, drifting from the top of my head on down, eventually disappearing behind the neighbor’s home across the street. I would daydream of flying.

My ‘Scapes series is about that kind of travel. I want to put the viewer in a place he or she might not ordinarily be: the middle of the ocean, for example, or flying above the front-range while noting the shapes of the landscape below, or maybe losing any frame of reference in the abstract form of clouds.

I’ve been working on a different approach with my landscape paintings, taking the viewer even higher up this time. Just as my old front yard got smaller as I grew older, so does the rest of the world as my perceptions shrink its size through relationships and experience; all that I have learned. Everything is relative.

The image on the right depicts the painting in progress during the first session.

Weekend Open Studio Event

2009-05-14T08:51:00.000-06:00

Gearing up for an open studio event this Sunday. If you're in the Denver area, click on the link here for details. The info tent will be right outside of my studio.

Art Article

2009-05-13T06:45:00.000-06:00

I just contributed the following article to Helium on the subject of "Creating A Lasting Message Through Artwork." Check it out here.

Painting With Intent

2009-05-08T08:32:00.000-06:00

I have two hardboard panels that I’ve kept around for some time. Originally, they were scraps left over from the storage racks I built, but I held on to them thinking I could eventually use them as painting surfaces. After completing the last of my paintings that fell into my creative gap, I was finally ready to start new work, eager to apply all I have learned since the beginning of the year. Last week, I prepared the panels for painting with gesso. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what I would paint, I was open to ideas that demonstrated the illusion of depth while taking advantage, compositionally, of the panel's narrow format. I began work on the two paintings Monday.

Tuesday was my second session with them and I completely shed away all worries and concerns and for the first time in what seemed forever, painting as freely as I ever have with effortless joy and intent. I wasn’t worried about a final product. I didn’t beat myself up over money or feel any pressure whatsoever. I didn’t care about the appearance of my art, or if it was even consistent with other works. I wasn’t consumed worrying about my health, my appearance, or anything for that matter- I was simply and fully immersed in the present act of painting… and it was beautiful.

By letting go, I let the hardwood’s surface dictate my direction. As I progressed in the work, compositions revealed themselves in a way that allowed me to fully visualize the final rendering. I saw the paintings before me in their current, raw form. Simultaneously, I could see the finished works, even though they won’t be finished for another week or two. I also saw the finished painting hanging in another venue- perhaps someone’s home, a gallery, or even a museum- I couldn’t really say, but I saw it as if it had already happened. The feeling frightened and excited me all at once.

Conceptual Cycles: Part II

2009-05-05T08:24:00.000-06:00

I have been reflecting on my increasingly evident cycle of artistic patterns, recently. When I have learned what I need to from one particular style or a series, I move on to the next and advance it until I am ready to move on again. Eventually, I return to the beginning again, renewing the cycle, like a spiral that originates from a vague periphery and rotates itself toward the center, becoming more assertive as it refines and defines itself.

Since college, I have been fascinated with the Cubists. Their approach of rendering multiple angles of a form simultaneously with bold delineations breaking the figure down is both visually striking and conceptually advanced. Earlier in my career, in my own way, I attempted to work in a similar fashion through a series of jazz musicians. The instruments and intimate portraits easily lent themselves to the fragmenting of visual components, providing me with a structure to strengthen my compositions through line and form. (Example pictured, upper right)

After working this way for several years, I sought a more painterly approach with my work, making better use of color and brushstroke. The Impressionists seemed to offer the best blueprint to make this shift. In studying their compositions, I found it necessary to fully break away from Cubism. My work, therefore, moved through that direction and beyond, while my subject matter has also expanded to include ‘Scapes (expanses of land, sky and sea) and Narrative (implications of stories) works. Through this phase which has lasted the better part of four years for me now has enabled me to delve deeper into the potential of color and value. (Example pictured, lower right)

Artistically, I feel like I have absorbed concepts from both Cubism and Impressionism and am now able to employ elements of both into my work. Lately, I have considered Cubism again as I am realizing it matters less and less what I paint than how I paint it. In other words, the form, texture, depth and transition of my compositions have the potential to be as visually intriguing as my choice of subject matter. Stay tuned…

Conceptual Cycles: Part I

2009-04-30T09:00:00.000-06:00

The easel was set up with my studio lights aimed at it to maximize the visual impact of each painting. I manually rotated individual works to gauge the prospective client’s interest. I began with my ‘Scapes series, having completed two pieces just a few days earlier that I was very satisfied with because of their subtle use of color and meditative qualities. The reaction was lukewarm so I shifted the private exhibit to show him work from my Interludes series.

Though the larger format, color, composition and content of these works seemed to draw slightly more interest from him, the client seemed largely unenthused about my Contemporary Expressionist style. He seemed, rather, to gravitate toward an older painting. I had removed it earlier from the storage racks to access other works and he noticed it leaning against the wall. It was the original “Blow” painting (pictured to the right) I had completed back in 2003, marking one of the very first paintings of the Interludes series.

The client explained he liked the Cubist approach I had taken, with its assertive outlines, breaking the form down into multiple planes of color and value. The Cubist approach intends to reveal any given subject from all sides at the same time. I employed my own version of Cubism early in the Interludes series. As my style has emerged, I have moved away from this method in favor of a more fluid treatment of the subject.

I had a good chuckle to myself over the client’s inclinations, as I had been reflecting on my cycle of artistic patterns. I am becoming increasingly aware that the seeds planted early on in my career continue to grow and feed each other. When I have learned what I need to from one particular style or series, I move on to the next and advance it until I am ready to move on again. Eventually, I return to the beginning again, renewing the cycle … sort of like a spiral that starts from a vague periphery and rotates itself toward the center, where it refines and defines itself. I will explain more in the next entry.

Outside Of My Box

2009-04-23T08:30:00.000-06:00

Not a cloud in the sky, as we drove toward Morrison on an April afternoon. It was a gorgeous spring day in Denver. After a week of feeling out of synch with most everything, I pushed myself to get out and do something different. I needed to get outside of my box.

A week ago, my uncle had called me to go out for a plein air painting session. Though, it had been nearly two years since our last outing, I just wasn’t excited to take time out of my schedule to go out, and found some excuse as to why I couldn’t go. The other night, he called me again. At first, my inclination was to decline the invitation again, but after thinking things through and realizing my reasons for not wanting to go were lame at best, I changed my mind and called him back to make plans.

Just after one o’clock in the afternoon, he picked me up from the studio and drove us west toward Red Rocks. Before we reached our original destination, we took an early exit from the highway, quickly discovering a great vantage point of the front range. After parking the car, we gathered our gear and walked a short distance up the hiking path, not too far from the side of the road. Though I would have preferred a more remote location from the traffic below us, we agreed this was the best view around. I set up the brand new French easel I had purchased a year before. The last time I did any work outdoors was the last excursion I took with my uncle and so I felt a little unpracticed in setting up.

In a relatively short time, the easel was positioned and my sketchbook was out so I could determine my composition. Finding it was surprisingly easy. My initial studies came together so quickly, it seemed as if I had not taken any time away at all. A few yards ahead of me, my uncle was already painting on his canvas.

“Hey,” he said, “what kind of blue would you use for the sky?”

I told him he should try a cooler blue, like a Manganese or Cerulean.

“I’ve got Cobalt,” he replied.

I explained that would work as well, being a true-blue with no influences of red or yellow. I walked over to his easel and found he was already mixing the blue with white to lighten up the hue. I suggested he add a touch of yellow to the mixture to really capture the true color of the sky. He added a little yellow to the palette and I showed him how to mix the slightest bit, first into the white and then into the blue so as not to turn the mixture into green. He was pleased with the results and so was I for having the knowledge to share with him.

I returned to my easel and felt on top of my game. I worked with ease, not having any expectations over the outcome of my painting. I saw the subject matter before me not as a group of mountains, but rather a vehicle as to which I could describe depth through color and value. This made all the difference in the world. I felt like I had honored the day by being outside, helping out my uncle and being good to myself.

Note About The Image: The picture above was taken as I discovered a visitor had flown into my palette and was indulging on the pigment. Can you see it?

What's In A Name: Part III

2009-04-22T07:48:00.000-06:00

I take into account each element that goes into my paintings, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Sometimes, however, even after careful consideration, it can be difficult to anticipate the impact of a single brushstroke, let alone a signature. I hadn’t really thought about any of this until recently, when it was brought to my attention at a recent event.

Speaking to an audience of thirty-three, I felt confident as the subject matter expert of my own artwork which was displayed around us in the gallery. As I conducted the presentation, several members of the group let it be known they were also artists, or at least dabbled in the arts enough to bring up interesting topics for discussion.

One of the first questions asked was the difference and similarities between oils and other paints, particularly acrylics. I explained how I favored oils because of their drying and chemical properties in addition to their traditional and historical significance. One woman insisted the two were very similar and proceeded to share her knowledge of how she mixed the two on canvas. I clarified that acrylics should be applied first. Mixing the two in any other way causes the paint to warp or flake off entirely, due to the respective drying and chemical properties of each medium.

I continued my presentation, describing my approach to painting. At one point, I explained that I employ all six hues in my work. The woman was perplexed by this and stated there were far more colors than that. I replied that I was referring to the major colors of the spectrum.

When the presentation was over, the group dispersed to privately view the exhibition. I was talking with a friend when my new artist friend approached us.

“Your paintings disturb me,” she interrupted.

I asked her why that was, as the majority of the work shown was from my most recent Interludes Series, depicting solitary musical instruments. I couldn’t imagine what would be so disturbing about them.

“Your signature is too prominent. It gets in the way and destroys the illusion. It ruins the composition and frankly, I don’t like it at all.”

I was stunned by the comment. My signage had made an impact, as she truly appeared upset, but there was little I could do other than hear her out with a smile.

“You are supposed to sign your work on the back of the canvas- never on the front! When artists signed their name on the front, they’d find a rock or some clever place where you can barely see it.”

Really? I thought to myself. Maybe I should just put rocks in all of my paintings. I wanted to find a rock at that very moment… to hide under. What about Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, let alone my instruction back in art school? Though I understood where she was coming from, I found her argument to be a little slanted.

I thanked her for her point of view before she walked away, and continued to discuss the matter further with my friend. Frankly, the whole exchange bothered me. It certainly has never been my intention to allow my signature to detract from the painting itself. My friend brought up an interesting point that really made sense to me. She said I should let my style become my signature. After spending some time since then considering her point of view, in addition to everything else discussed in this blog series, I have come up with a new way to sign my work that I believe successfully integrates this concept with an actual signature on my canvasses. Feel free to ask me about it next time you see me.

On a side note, after the event ended, the group invited me to lunch with them. As luck would have it, my new critic was the only ride available to the restaurant. Once we finished lunch, the group dispersed to head home with their rides. I looked around for mine, but could not find her. I walked down the street where we parked the car to find it conspicuously absent. As I walked home that afternoon, I chuckled to myself, thinking my signature had really offended her that much.

What's In A Name: Part II

2009-04-17T05:50:00.000-06:00

I must admit, I was a little surprised when I heard the comment, "Oh, you’re the artist who signs his work in different places.” After I was able to push my ego aside and let the words sink in, I began to consider both my motivation for signing paintings the way I do and the impact that ultimately has on my work.

I majored in studio art at Arizona State back in the early nineties. During my time there, I learned a great deal about the fundamentals of art composition, not to mention a plethora of information rounding out the curriculum. As a college student and young artist beginning to seriously consider a career, I allowed the influences of other established artists to serve as a guide for my emerging style. Elements of Picasso, Monet and some of the Bay Area Painters (from the 1940s to the 60s) influenced my use of color, composition, subject matter, and even my signature. While studying and learning from work by my favorite painters, I did not have a difficult time finding their name residing on the front side of any given composition. Though some were more boldly marked than others, all the artists seemed to integrate their name into the design itself, either as a stamp of approval or a cleverly disguised element within the painting.

Recalling the times when I began to consider how this all factored into my work, I remember a particular class where the instructor was speaking specifically about signatures. She told me to find interesting places to put my name and “just go with it”; there didn’t have to be any consistency for placement, just make it interesting. Based on her guidance, in addition to what I had observed through other artists, I began to sign my work in strategic places within the composition, where it was noticeable without being obtrusive.

After I completed college, I returned to Denver and played in a rock band for awhile. My art took a backseat and it wasn’t until a few years later that I began painting again. In reestablishing myself as a visual artist, I felt both my skills and focus had atrophied from my hiatus. Thus, for a while, I opted not to sign any work, going the route of Michelangelo who rarely signed his pieces. This brought about criticism from those who misunderstood my intentions as being ego-driven; as if a twenty-something painter who had never shown his work publicly would think his work to be instantly recognizable without a signature. I was also prodded by those who believed in my work to begin signing it again. They would ask me, “How will somebody know this is a Jared Steinberg if there is no name on it?” Eventually, I realized they were right. After I regained my artistic confidence, I began to add my signature again in the mid-nineties.

Since then, I have continued to find “interesting places” to sign my work, at times fusing my name into a painting so it is barely noticeable while other times allowing it to be more conspicuous, thereby serving a more important role in the composition. The prominence and positioning of my autograph has always been contingent on the painting itself. Sometimes, however, even after careful consideration, it can be difficult to anticipate the impact of a single brushstroke, let alone a full-on signature. I hadn’t really thought about any of this until recently, when it was again brought to my attention at a recent event.

To be continued…

What's In A Name: Part I

2009-04-13T07:18:00.002-06:00

The giant row of evergreen trees cast long triangular shadows over us, spilling onto the street, as JQ and I observed from behind the table of our display booth. Being in a Colorado resort town for an art festival was initially a hopeful prospect, but after three days of slow traffic and casual observers, my hope faded with Sunday afternoon’s waning light.

The three-day duration of the festival yielded a trickle of pedestrians milling up and down the street lined with artist tents. Walking in the company of friends and family, the tourists greatly outnumbered serious patrons. Many tended to fixate on a single work or wall of work, with little regard to anything beyond their acute perspective. Some were curious enough to walk into a tent to observe a particular work more closely, while fewer still sought to indulge in a conversation with the artist. The woman selling jewelry across the way from me seemed to be the only exhibitor doing any consistent business while the rest of us interacted with one another, exchanging stories of other shows and sharing various insights about our experience as artists.

JQ and I spent the majority of our time evaluating, rearranging work, and planning for the next event. On the final day of the show, another exhibitor entered into my booth. He observed my work a little before he spoke. He came to inform me of another show coming up, and encouraged me to apply. The conversation meandered into the topic of mutual acquaintances when he suddenly recognized my name.

“Oh, you’re the artist who signs his work in different places,” he said. A little surprised by the comment, I nodded in agreement, as if that was what distinguished me from other painters. After he left, I continued to mull over his remark, not entirely sure how I felt about it. On one hand, it’s nice to be recognized by something distinct; on the other hand, my goal as an artist is to be known for things like uniqueness of style, composition and palette… not a signature. Until that moment, I really hadn’t given much thought to the matter since my college days when I first considered where and how to sign a painting.

To be continued…

Finish What You Started

2009-04-06T08:00:00.001-06:00

In my previous entry, I discussed reconciling the gap that occurred with older paintings in progress and trying to retrofit them with my evolving style. In doing so, I acknowledged that achieving this in some works was practically impossible, so I opted to destroy several paintings instead of persisting with futile attempts to complete them using the knowledge I had gained verses the original path they were conceived and initiated.

I did manage to find half a dozen paintings that I could finish in a respectable fashion, however. In fact, they are coming together rather quickly. I will be posting pictures of them on my website in the next few weeks and will have them on display at my next open studio event. In the meantime, I will be developing new works in the style I am now just beginning to comprehend. I expect the progression to produce some interesting results.

Caught At The Crossroads

2009-03-30T09:36:00.001-06:00

Creatively speaking, I find myself in an interesting position these days. Prior to my studio being flooded out and the subsequent move to a temporary one, I was in the middle of several oil paintings: two from my Kabbalah series, several darker narrative works, and an Interludes painting. As I mentioned in my “Roll With The Changes” entry, I took some time away from working with oils in order to be more productive in my temporary studio. Now that I have returned to my original space, I am beginning to work again in oil paints, after a three month hiatus.

The gap in time has produced an unexpected result, however. During the break, I grew both creatively and technically as an artist. Consequently, my method and vision now are different than they were back in December. My challenge, therefore, is to reconcile this disparity so I can finish the work; a task that is easier said than done.

I have stood in front of my canvasses for the last week, attempting to maintain their integrity while adding my newfound knowledge to complete them. Development has been frustrating, to say the least. I feel like a sailor in the middle of the ocean who learns a better way of navigation requiring a change in course to arrive at the original destination. The result is a labored effort that begs the question, is it even worth it for me to complete the work? After so much change to counter and overcome my original ideas, I have concluded the answer, simply, is no. I am therefore resigned to complete only three of my works from 2008 while destroying the remainder of them so that I might preserve the stretcher bars and begin new ideas within the same dimensions on fresh canvas. I consider it a small set back necessary for the preservation of my sanity.

Hustle & Flow Continued

2009-03-28T09:36:00.000-06:00

I am happy to report that the week continued to usher in new positive events in my life. Since Monday, I continued to do my part through meditation, recognizing negative thoughts and trying to counter them with healthier ones, clearing more physical space to make room for positive energy, and giving what I could to support those around me. In return, I received a letter of acceptance into a gallery in Texas. What made this even more remarkable to me is that I sent my artist information nearly a year ago. I assumed that since I did not hear from them, my materials had either been lost in the shuffle or I had been rejected. I was amazed by the timing. I also learned yesterday that I have been accepted into an art festival this summer.

It is my hope that this blog serves as a friendly reminder to anyone who may be facing challenges right now that you still have the power to change your situation. Here's to working for better days.

Hustle & Flow

2009-03-24T08:47:00.002-06:00

Lately, I have felt utterly stagnant. As the economy dwindles, the impact has diminished my art sales, as I observe consistent confirmations by other artists, dealers and galleries who are feeling the same crunch. A friend of mine just returned from Hawaii, where she told me both the local galleries and restaurants alike had witnessed a 60% decrease in business in the last year. Another friend attended The Armory Show in New York City (a very high-profile art fair) and commented on how quiet attendance was. I recently wrote about the cancellation of The Artist Project in Chicago this year.

Admittedly, the situation has taken a toll on me; it has been a challenge to remain hopeful in the midst of all of this bad news. Never the less, I have been determined to move forward and believe the key in doing so is changing things that are within my control. The first change I have been focusing on is my attitude. Negative thoughts have plagued me for the last year, ultimately causing major anxiety attacks. After I determined anxiety was the root of my problem, I sought to counter it through meditation and have been practicing Vipassana meditation now for the last three months and I cannot begin to tell you how liberating that process has been for me. That alone, however, was not enough for me to make the necessary change.

Vipassana meditation is also referred to as “insight” meditation; becoming aware of your body, thoughts and feelings by quieting your mind of ideas stemming from memory or anticipating the future, thereby becoming fully present. Though I have been successful at calming myself through meditation, the practice by itself has not changed my circumstances and I have continued to fight feelings of dissatisfaction. In spite of the state of the economy, I know I can change my circumstances, but in order to do so, I not only have to think differently, I must act differently. Meditation made it apparent I need to change the way I live my life. As a result, I am more conscious of how I interact with others and how I treat myself, while considering what exactly I am doing to make things better for myself and those around me. Simply becoming conscious of these things, again, was not enough to facilitate change.

For the last two-and-a-half months, I had put off clearing piles of paperwork that accumulated on my office desk over the course of the previous three months. I neglected to put away packed boxes of clothes and belongings since moving in with JQ. I recently realized all of the clutter was only contributing to the stale mood preventing any progress from happening, and I simply couldn’t stand it any longer. So, yesterday, after another sleepless night, I woke up at 4 a.m. and with nothing to do, I started tackling the long list of small things I had procrastinated from doing: I cleaned up my office desk; I put clothes away and threw out boxes; I filed papers; I sent out e-mail correspondence to art partners and job prospects. I took care of the seemingly little things that were within my control. In doing so, my intention was to make space for new energy and a new flow of positive things in my life by doing away with the lifeless clutter I had allowed to weigh me down. I have read about this type of thing before and now it was time to put it to the test.

Later in the day, I met a friend for coffee. I must admit, I thought about cancelling, but I hadn’t seen K in some time and though I felt like I had more pressing things that required my attention, I wanted to honor my commitment. We ended up having a great conversation with many ideas for me to consider regarding my artwork. It was very positive. After our meeting, I went to the studio and had a very inspiring painting session. When I returned home to check my e-mail, I was amazed at what I found. In the last 24 hours, I was offered an interview, an art showing with a potential patron, two additional art contacts and a meeting with somebody interested in helping me sell my work. I hardly think this is all a coincidence. I feel better than I have in a month and look forward to writing about more positive updates in the near future. Stay tuned.

Rolling With The Changes

2009-03-21T11:30:00.002-06:00

It has been said that “change is the only constant.” Over the last year, my life and the world around me have gone through tremendous changes. My recent experience with a flooded studio forced me to make an unexpected adjustment into a new one. With my workflow interrupted and environment different, there was an impact on my art work. I went from being in a work space tailored to meet my needs to one that, though adequate, I could not make alterations to, and thus, could never get completely comfortable in.

I went from living and working in the same studio to living someplace else with a short commute to work, which forced me to plan a little more than I had in the past. Additionally, there was time needed to move and arrange my work tools and materials. Once I was settled in the new place, the impact on my work became obvious; the lighting was different, my hours were less flexible and I had to be a little more cautious considering the space was a loaner.

In order to make the most of my time there, I had to develop a new groove. I dealt with the lighting and space issues by shifting my focus on watercolors, which were less of a mess to deal with than oils and given my situation, were easier to control lighting for. By creating a more workable situation for myself, I was able to develop a more enthusiastic approach to my work and my time in the studio became more focused and productive. Three months later, I am now making another shift back to my original studio space.

Though I feel more at home, I cannot, for several reasons, go back to my past routine. For starters, I no longer live above my studio as the economy has forced me to find a renter for that portion to help make ends meet. I am now living with JQ, so the short commute along with calculating my time more efficiently is still a factor for me. Even more so, I find myself caught in the middle of where I was artistically before the flood, and where I want to go with it from here. I can clearly see where I want to take my artwork in terms of style; this process was facilitated by my time away from oils and the different outlook afforded by my temporary studio. Yet, I need time to develop a method to get there in the way of a series or some focused effort of actual content. Consequently, I find myself searching once again for my groove.

Turning It Around

2009-03-17T20:43:00.002-06:00

I’ve had Chicago on my mind lately. It’s been almost a year since I went there for The Artist Project, and nearly as long since I have been out of town at all. Between the economy and the flood, I find myself too broke to go anywhere. Never the less, I have been thinking about Chicago in particular.

The other day, I received an e-mail invitation to apply to a festival in Michigan. The intro began with regrets that TAP had been cancelled this year. I went to the website to verify if this was true or not and much to my dismay it was, making me pause to consider what that actually meant. Originally, I assumed that because of its location, its mission and organization that The Artist Project would be impervious to the downturn in the economy. Apparently, I was mistaken. It seems the more people I discuss the recession with, the more widespread I find its impact.

Like many others, I wonder when things will actually begin to turn around. I can’t help but believe the power to do so lies in each one of us; to do what we can to remove fear through acts of encouragement, compassion and ideally spending or investing in businesses and individuals. I am therefore resolved to change my attitude and do what I can to turn my situation around and hopefully influence those around me to do the same. Maybe I’ll be able to return to Chicago sooner than I think. Who knows?

Welcome Colorado

2009-03-10T21:17:00.000-06:00

Today, I co-hosted an event with my fellow RiNo Neighbor, Sharon Brown. The occasion was a private studio show for Welcome Colorado, a group of local women dedicated to showing other women of international backgrounds a slice of Denver life through various activities. Sharon and I agreed to host a private showing of our paintings along with a verbal presentation and discussion around the work.

The occasion had been planned for months and I really wanted to make a good impression on the group. Yesterday, I hung my work up at Sharon's Pattern Shop Studio and only hoped my verbal presentation would be nearly as good as the visual. I began planning what I would say about a week ago. As the time drew nearer, my ideas began to solidify. Over the weekend, I wrote them out and rehearsed the material from flash cards. I was prepared, but admittedly a little uncertain I could manage speaking without fumbling around a bit, at least in the beginning.

This morning, before I arrived at the studio, I meditated. At first, I went through a succession of familiar mantras, but then I did something a little different. I visualized the event, intending the outcome. Knowing what I was aiming for gave me the ability to see the event from its ending back to its beginning. The exercise relaxed me and facilitated a confidence boost to interact in a way that often escapes me. In short, the actual experience turned out very much as I had visualized it. I never even bothered to use my flash cards, as the words flowed out effortlessly with great enthusiasm. I was radiating the very energy I convey through my artwork. I had a wonderful time and I believe the women of Welcome Colorado did too. My growth as an artist seems to be expanding in all directions and it feels miraculous.

Moving Back and Moving On

2009-03-09T20:53:00.003-06:00

On Friday, I got the nod from the contractor that my studio is ready after nearly three months of repair work, following the flood. I return to new walls, new ceilings, new floors, and more importantly, with a new attitude.

The time away has been good. I have taken up both watercolor and meditation while putting oil painting aside for the last two months. The stretch has given me insight and perspective and I am looking forward to applying the two with renewed enthusiasm.

Lessons In Watercolor

2009-03-03T19:58:00.000-07:00

I think most artists familiar with the mediums of watercolor and oil paints would argue the two couldn’t possibly be more different from one another. On many levels, it certainly would be easy to agree with this point of view. Chemically speaking, they contrast by their drying properties: watercolor dries quickly through evaporation of its water-soluble binders; oil takes at least 24 hours (with the help of drying agents) to, at least, be dry enough to the touch; they take up to eight months to “dry” entirely through the process of oxidation.

Watercolor is opaque, essentially a stain that works in a very fluid, spontaneous manner on paper. In acquiring skills as a watercolorist, a painter must learn to adapt to the unpredictable nature of the medium, as precision can be very challenging; controlled chaos of sorts. Oil, on the contrary, is viscous with various degrees of opacity and transparency. The final results of an oil painting are usually more calculable for artists. Even the brushes with which to apply the paints are distinct; watercolor brushes are shorter, generally with softer bristles whereas oil brushes have longer shafts often with firm bristles.

Though the differences between the two are obvious, I believe for an artist interested in learning about color, watercolor is a great place to begin. In spite of their differences, I find their color properties are very similar, particularly when it comes to glazing. The faster drying time of watercolor makes it ideal for quick studies to iron out form, composition and color scheme. In the past, I employed the medium for color sketches of an oil painting, but I am now beginning to see greater possibilities as a medium of its own merit. Furthermore, the lessons learned from it can easily translate to oil. I am excited to return to oil painting next week with this newfound knowledge, when I move back into my permanent studio I also believe the break (albeit a forced one) has done much to restore my appreciation for oil paints and I look forward to returning with a new perspective and great enthusiasm.

The Thrill Was Gone

2009-02-10T07:47:00.000-07:00

I've been working from my temporary digs now for nearly two months. The restoration of my studio is nearing completion and I should be returning there around the first of March. Though I am thankful to have a space to work, I feel like I cannot tailor it to truly accommodate my work and thus have approached my painting rather half-heartedly. I recently realized my lackadaisical efforts were not only affecting my output, but the whole process of creating art had become a real drag- I wasn’t excited at all about my work. When this happens, the languor becomes evident in the work and the quality suffers. I knew I needed do something to bring the joy back into my art.

Nearly two weeks ago, I was putting together a proposal for a very ambitious project. I was motivated more than ever to make the best possible impression I could for it, as I felt I had a very good idea and didn’t want to squander an opportunity with a subpar presentation. I took some time to consider the best approach to render it conceptually, in order to strike a good impression on the review committee. In the past, I had done this through watercolors, but my presentation was rather informal and hurried. Though I believed watercolor would still provide the best medium for my delivery, I needed to do something other than a cartoon on passable watercolor-block paper. After some research and my own exploration at the art store, I arrived at the studio with several 300 lb. hard-pressed watercolor sheets- each measuring the standard 30” x 22” size. The superior quality and larger scale of these materials alone sent surges of excitement through my long-dormant veins.

By simply finding a different medium, taking the time to slow up and enjoy the process, I was able to create the best presentation I have ever conceived. I also was able to bring a new perspective and some long-absent excitement back into painting- particularly watercolor. Now, I am working on a new project that requires me to work in watercolor as well, so I am continuing with that medium. I believe when I return to my studio in March, this experience will bode well for my return back into oil painting.

Beautiful Irony

2009-01-27T08:31:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, I signed up to take a workshop on grant applications sponsored by The Colorado Council on The Arts. Yesterday, I opened my e-mail to find a letter from them saying the workshop had been cancelled in favor of a feedback session from artists to the council, as the CCA has suffered a 50% budget cut due to the economy. Consequently, the projected grant opportunities for 2009 are now in serious jeopardy. Needless to say, I was disappointed and angry.

As an artist, I am aware my field is deemed a “luxury” by many and usually the first area to suffer cutbacks, particularly when it comes to public funding. This understanding, however, does not curb my personal stance to the contrary in the slightest, for I view art as an essential tool of expression, connection and expanding awareness. Unfortunately, I have not been provided with a bailout plan, tax cuts, or incentives from the government for my business and rely on my own resourcefulness and the support of others to survive these times. Given the declining state of consumer spending, finding grant opportunities was one of the avenues I sought to diversify my streams of income- what beautiful irony. In spite of this, I am resolute to find constructive options as I face the perfect storm of a shrinking market, self-fulfilling doom perpetuated by irresponsible media, and a government that seems to contradict itself at every turn.

Taking Time

2009-01-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

It's been over a month now since my last blog entry. 2008 ended in turmoil for me with my home/studio damaged from a burst fire-sprinkler pipe and my future more uncertain than ever. I spent time dealing with life challenges, debilitating anxiety, and nagging doubt. As you might imagine, writing about anything was difficult.

As I tried to make sense of everything happening to me, one word/theme kept appearing time and again- transformation. Eventually, I came to see my situation as an opportunity for transformation. As I move forward with that line of thought, I look around to find the rest of the world in a similar predicament.

To help my new perspective flourish, I am practicing meditation, accepting what is, and knowing I can change course to fulfill my dreams. I am also learning to balance my new intentions with self-forgiveness, knowing things will come to me when they are meant to be.

This patience has also forced me to slow down on painting, both physically and mentally. After my experience at The Artist Project in Chicago last year, I was eager to put my creative realizations into action as soon as possible. The result was the most prolific period of my art career. Now, however, I feel I must balance deliberation with manifestation, letting my paintings present themselves without forcing them. Though it has taken me some time to get used to this new process, I think the results will mark a noticeable difference in my work and look forward to sharing very soon. In the meantime, I wish you a very happy and fulfilling new year.

Soaking Superman

2008-12-19T16:39:00.001-07:00

As 2008 comes to a close, I find myself looking forward to 2009 more than any other year I can remember. What began as such a promising year for me has turned into the most trying time of my life. Given the state of the world, I know I am not alone in this feeling, but sometimes it's difficult to find the good in all of it. My most recent challenge happened earlier this week.

While over at my girlfriend’s house, I got a call that an alarm had gone off at my studio. I rushed over there to find not a burglar, but water… everywhere. Apparently, the sudden thaw from freezing December temperatures caused a neighbor’s fire sprinkler to burst, flooding several units within the building. The water poured down, surging through four dwellings, including mine. I came home to find lines of water dripping from the ceiling down to the floor, seeping through light fixtures and sprinkler heads while splattering and soaking everything in between.

Luckily, the damage was fairly minimal to my work and belongings, but my studio is in need of repair and I cannot work there for the time being. So I am now looking for an alternative space to work. I hope to find something within the week, but it has been an interesting position for me to not be able to work. I am trying to make the most of this time away from painting, but I am anxious to get back to it.

I recently read a book that said life’s obstacles are opportunities for personal transformation and growth. I really do believe this to be true. Given that line of thought, I have the potential to grow into Superman after this year.

How Long Does It Take?

2008-12-09T08:31:00.001-07:00

"How long does it take you to do a painting?" It's a question I often get asked, yet the answer, as it pertains to the development of an individual canvas, hardly seems sufficient.

I remember a pastel class I took, not too long ago, where the instructor was asked that very question. Without hesitating, he explained, "57 years." Evidently, he was referring to his age. The answer confounded the class, seeming to avert the question in favor of creative secrecy. Recently, I saw a film on Mark Rothko (Simon Schama's- The Power Of Art, Disc 3, I believe) where the artist gave the same answer.

While reflecting on the growth of my own technical abilities in recent years, I realize the explanation is actually quite thoughtful and authentic. The works I produce today are the sum-total of my very existence; it has taken me all my life to learn how to 'see' the world; how to communicate with it. That progression continues constantly, whether or not I choose to work on any given day. Every comprehensive moment shapes what and how I paint. Therefore, my work is the collective insight of my life experience.

Thanksgiving Revisited

2008-12-04T08:04:00.004-07:00

We were approaching the end of our Thanksgiving family dinner when my sister thought it would be a good idea for all of us to go around and proclaim what we were thankful for. Admittedly it has been a difficult year, and after drinking a few glasses of truth serum derived from a bottle of wine, I teetered on the verge of finding the good in all of it... or simply expressing myself.

The rotation of positive affirmations ensued, warming the table like gravy on mashed potatoes. I knew I had a lot to be thankful for- good health, a supportive family and loving girlfriend, etcetera, etcetera- but I wasn't in the mood to delve that deep into my emotions to extract those warm fuzzies. I opted instead for the wry humor card, hoping to mix things up while demonstrating I was comfortable enough to speak my mind.

"I'm thankful this year is almost over," I announced at my turn.

My thanks was met with stunned, awkward silence. My sister pressed me for a better answer, hoping to keep a constructive perspective on my reflection, but I would have none of it. I made my decision and wasn't about to back down. Digging my heels further into the ground, I restated my answer.

"I'm thankful I was able to learn something positive in an otherwise shit-ass year!"

My second outburst was received no better than the first and we quickly moved on to the next person. I had succeeded in expressing myself, but it was at the expense of my family's feelings. I think maybe next year, I will be thankful for the ability of those around me to forgive me when I take things too far... then again, maybe not.

Hope In The Most Unlikely Of Places

2008-12-02T09:23:00.001-07:00

I wash my paint brushes in the bathroom sink of my studio. Once I finish a painting session, I scrape off my palette, pre-wash the brushes with mineral spirits and a rag, and then walk around the corner to the bathroom sink to complete the cleaning process. Predictably, the aforementioned sink is located just to the left of the toilet. I keep jars of brush soap stored on a shelf directly above the toilet. For some time, the thought occurred to me that between the toilet, sink and shelf, this may very well be a triangle of disaster. I feared that either the soap jar or a lid might fall from the shelf or sink and plunge into the toilet signifying an avoidable mess and confirming my psychic ability to forecast my own blunders.

Just the other day, as I was rinsing my brushes in the sink, the inevitable happened. I carelessly placed the soap jar lid on the edge of the shelf. Through some physical working of imbalance and gravity, the lid managed to leap off its perch without warning, diving straight for the toilet. It happened fast, but not so fast that my heart didn't sink while a voice inside my head taunted, "I told you so!" But then, something unexpected happened. Instead of splashing into a pool of toilet water and waiting in a floating pattern for retrieval, the lid hit the side of the toilet and shot out onto the bathroom floor, unscathed from the waters of doom!

I felt relief, though not the kind you might typically experience in a bathroom, and hope was restored again.

Movie Review: Modigliani

2008-11-27T15:19:00.001-07:00

As the starting credits roll for Modigliani, a written explanation cautions the viewer this is a work of fiction, and the film is not necessarily attempting to remain true to hard facts around the artist’s actual life. This is a shame because I later discovered the artist’s life was more compelling than what this work allows. Admittedly knowing little about the artist prior to this, I was still anxious to learn what I could about him.

Andy Garcia stars in the leading role of the film which focuses mainly on the final years of the artist’s life. The story takes place in Italy and is rich with interesting subplots. Modigliani, who is Jewish, falls in love with his catholic girlfriend, Jeanne Hébuterne. Her father’s displeasure toward their union quickly explodes into outrage over the birth of the couple’s first child. The mindlessness of prejudice produces a triangle of conflict between Modigliani, Jeanne, and her parents who use the baby as a pawn to demonstrate their disdain. At the same time, Modigliani himself is battling to survive as an artist. His casual approach to life and practical matters seem to be in rebellion to his circumstances. He is known throughout Italy but struggles to sell his paintings. These challenges, among other factors, feed Modigliani’s penchant for alcohol and drugs; enabling him to seemingly escape the dramas of his life, they eventually contribute to his untimely death at the age of thirty-five.

The most intriguing subplot of the film, however, is the continuous love/hate relationship between Modigliani and Pablo Picasso. Played by Omid Djalili, whose face manages to capture the intensity of the famous artist, the actor provides a well-intended, if exaggerated, portrayal of the artist. Undoubtedly, Picasso’s arrogance was well-known, but the hot-headed nature of his character in this film makes for a bloated caricature appearing to be more of a symbolic statement than a faithful representation. Nevertheless, the contrasting and competing nature of the two artists, as they strive for greatness, makes for a captivating anecdote.

The climax of this matchup unfortunately appears in the film’s weakest sequence. Both artists enter a juried competition, along with several other known artists of the time, including Diego Rivera. A rather absurd scene ensues, depicting each of the artists and their frantic painting process as they toil through feigned rituals to complete work specifically for the upcoming exhibition. The director takes us to the backside of each canvas in development to find its artist wildly waving brushes, attacking the surface like madmen casting spells at their own creation. Adding insult to injury, the background suddenly fills with a blundering score of contemporary beat music that is completely out of place in this movie. The music is not utilized before or after this scene rendering it both awkward and impotent.

In spite of several intriguing story lines with a fascinating cast, the movie never reaches its full potential. Though capably played by Garcia, Modigliani’s character simply lacks depth. There are certainly enough circumstances and implications throughout the film to explore the complexity of the artist’s conflicting angst and charm, but the role is diluted by an overly-ambitious script and countered by other characters, such as little Dedo (Modigliani as a boy, often at the elder’s side serving as a gentle reminder of kindness and purity lost) and the stronger figure of Picasso.

After the film was over, I researched more about the artist. The result was a wealth of information on a complex, tragic figure of contemporary art that left us all too soon. I believe the film may have been better if it had remained true to facts, delving further into character development and making a clear choice on what story to follow; simplifying to be effective. All in all, this is a decent movie that misses the opportunity to live up to its full potential, much like Modigliani himself.

Things They Don't Tell You In Art School... But Should

2008-11-11T07:49:00.000-07:00

I am priming four new canvasses today. My priming process requires three layers of Gesso. Before I apply each layer, I carefully examine the canvas to make sure the surface is clean. One thing they failed to explain to me back in art school, I would like to pass along to you, is the wisdom of wearing a long-sleeved shirt during this course of action, especially if you are male.

Inevitably, when I prime canvasses, I will find at least one lone hair that has plunged from my arm to the canvas, eventually smothered but still quite visible in a layer of fresh Gesso. Naturally, this development requires immediate extraction from the thick, wet mixture- a messy and sometimes challenging task (especially if you have just clipped your finger-nails). Removal, however, is essential because I cannot, in good conscience, deliver a hairy painting to someone. So remember, dear artist- hair nets and long sleeved shirts are not just for the lunch lady.

Paying To Play

2008-10-29T11:00:00.002-06:00

As an artist, I am always looking for opportunities to display and sell my work. There are a variety of ways to do this, such as hosting open studios, exploring gallery relationships, art brokers, festivals, group shows, juried exhibitions, and even local restaurants and businesses. Through networking and searching for opportunities, I have found some interesting propositions to artists that, after all is said and done, seem to favor the party making the proposition. This is all done under the guise of "exposure", of course... a word carelessly thrown out to entice, but rarely amounts to anything of substance.

I ran across a posting on CraigsList the other day that took the cake. A local coffee shop posted a call for artists. Most of the time, such a venue will make this type of request with the understanding it will receive a percent of the commission, should a work sell. The idea being this is good exposure for the artist. In reality, however, most of the time this is nothing more than an opportunity for a venue to obtain free artwork. The aforementioned coffee shop however, seemed to be operating under an even more lopsided premise. They were requesting a $400 fee, upfront, from the artist, I suppose for the "privilege" of showing work there for a month. I couldn't believe the audacity of this request. I urge any artist to carefully weigh the pros and cons of allowing these kinds of business practices to continue by refusing such preposterous invitations.

I realize legitimate venues are attempting to hedge their investments in artists by guarantying a certain profit for the cost of putting together a show. Businesses that rely solely on the sale of artwork for their revenue, for example, take a risk by showing artwork that may not sell. I can't see how a coffee shop, on the other hand, would fail to benefit from having free artwork on their walls, from an artist of their own choosing. If they need money so bad as to suck blood from turnips, perhaps they should explore other business ventures.

Painting As Dialogue

2008-10-21T08:28:00.000-06:00

Over the last few years, while working to improve my painting skills, I have grown more conscious of my process. In doing so, I sought to make it more efficient; weeding out certain actions in favor of others that serve to improve the overall effort. One of the actions I am working to employ more frequently is stepping away from a painting to gain a greater perspective of the whole. As I worked yesterday, I was thinking of this very thing while putting it into a slightly different context.

I thought about painting as dialogue. Through illustrated relationships of color, content, line, form, and rhythm, I am creating a language. In the past, I perceived that language as a statement to the viewer. If the viewer discovers a connection that attracts their attention, no matter how brief, an interaction has taken place. Taking a step back from that point of view, however, I must acknowledge the conversation that takes place between me and the canvas, before I even share it with anyone else.

My process begins with a concept. I then work to apply that concept to a canvas through paint, but the idea is not fixed from the beginning; there are too many factors- too many color combinations, lines, sessions- preventing clarity to really see a finished painting before I begin it (though I am getting better at it). I therefore look for visual cues from the canvas to help me tell a better story. This is the esoteric nature of art. As I apply the first strokes of paint to the surface, I am initiating a conversation. As any conversation goes, one person speaks to another, but then there must be reciprocity. I need to give my canvas more of that. I must step back and enjoy the process; to listen before reacting. Perhaps sit down and have a cup of coffee, appreciating the ritual before I respond to what I hear. I believe allowing space for this exchange will help me to produce greater work because it fosters a wider perspective.

Unforseeable Future Continued

2008-10-13T10:42:00.000-06:00

Last month, I posted a blog called Unforeseeable Future. I finished the entry acknowledging uncertainty in my future, while maintaining some semblance of hope. Since then, I continued to forge forward. I realized I have put entirely too much stock into my own expectations of what the future should provide. This has caused me great disappointment, pain and ultimately anxiety. As I make the transition to accept my reality, working to change it without relying on a definite outcome, I have been amazed at the many opportunities life affords when I am merely open to whatever they may be. I have released my narrow scope of expectations, expanding to a wider ranger of possibilities.

As I came down to my studio the other day, I looked outside to a beautiful, gray day. As my sight descended from the sky downward, to my front porch, I noticed a curious fleck of white in my planter. I opened the door and stepped outside to get a closer look. Much to my surprise, the green stalks I noticed and wrote about last month had finally bloomed, yielding tiny white flowers. A powerful surge of joy began overcame me, upon this discovery. It began deep inside, warming my sould and poured outward, completely changing my disposition. These flowers are the seeds of renewed hope within me and I share this story with you to inspire that same feeling.

Project Updates

2008-10-09T08:01:00.003-06:00

I just finished up my second "Album" of work. It's been interesting to advance concepts I created in the first series. You can compare and contrast the two bodies of work by clicking here.

For my next effort, I'll be working on eight new paintings: two commissioned works, three for a new series I'm working on based off The Kabbalah, two more music pieces, and one experimental piece.

Seemingly Nothing

2008-10-02T08:26:00.001-06:00

As I was painting the other day, I sensed dissatisfaction coming over me. I felt like nothing was happening, that things were stagnant. My current body of work didn't seem all that different from the previous body. As I began to delve further into the feeling, however, I realized my initial impression wasn't really true at all.

The previous body of work (from a series I call Album 1) was already hanging on the walls of my studio so I hung the newer work of Album 2 to the left for comparison. In little, but obvious ways, I saw an emerging confidence in my compositions. The change in value within a single form was more subtle and effective. The colors were richer. Much to my surprise, I saw plenty of growth.

When nothing seems like it's going on, transformation is actually occuring on the inside. Eventually, it will manifest itself outward. I just have to trust it will.

Ten Is The Magic Number

2008-09-29T07:14:00.000-06:00

I recently blogged about a DVD series I rented called Art City. It provided an insider's perspective into the world of art through in-studio interviews with artists and other art players in various parts of the United States. I remember one interview (though the artist's name alludes me) where the artist was discussing 'making it' in the art world. He talked about the necessity of biding his time as an artist; honing his craft while proving to galleries and collectors that this was a life-time career for him and not some passing fancy. Specifically, he said it takes about ten years to really establish yourself as an artist.

I really felt this point was right on the money... at least for me. Since watching the series, I reviewed my resume and discovered indeed it has been a little over ten years now since I have been painting professionally (I got a little side-tracked after college, thinking I was going to be a rock and roll star). In that time, I have built up a resume that demonstrates achievements from exhibitions, to commissions, to honors and awards over the course of eleven years. As an artist who wants to make a name for myself, the resume affirms I have cultivated a track record to move in that direction. From my patrons point of view, it asserts they made a good investment in an artist who wants art to be his lifelong career.

Discovery

2008-09-25T09:28:00.000-06:00

What Rothko did with abstract space, I am achieving through figurative space; capturing energy, depth, movement, sound and feeling.

Costly Drop / Cadmium's Revenge

2008-09-24T09:06:00.004-06:00

There are certain blunders that happen in the studio an artist never thinks about until they ruin his or her world in an instant of carelessness. I have spilled mineral spirits on my hardwood floors... twice. Played a rousing game of "52 brush pick-up." And every now and then, I'll drop a tube of paint. When a tube leaps out of my hands, or falls from the shelf in a spontaneous moment of pigment daredevilry, I see the whole thing happen in slow motion, very much like The Matrix.

As I mentioned before, I have hardwood floors. When I drop a tube of paint, the first thing I attempt to determine when I pick it up is where it made contact with the floor, like a parent trying to find the wound on a child after a fall. If it's a fortunate drop, it will land on one of the few soft spots of the tube with minimal denting. A costlier drop occurs where the impact forces a tiny rupture in the tube. The problem is, I don't find out until a few days (up to a week) later when the linseed oil begins to seep through the newly formed pore, separating from and ultimately drying out the pigment. Not long ago, I dropped a tube of cadmium orange. This was a $18 mistake; cadmium colors are more generally more expensive than other types of paint. No sooner did I get the new tube then I dropped it, just a mere two weeks after receiving it. And now I am resisting the urge to overindulge my paintings with orange while trying to make the most of my dying tube of cadmium orange. Guess I'm off to the art store... again.

Progress

2008-09-22T18:47:00.000-06:00

I am finishing up my second Album of new material: six new paintings of musical instruments. They have a completely different feel from my first effort (shown here). The first Album had a very rich palette with darker, earthier hues. The second will feature more modern, brighter colors. Additionally, you may notice the progression of my ability to render the instruments, as I believe the newer works benefited from lessons learned in my first attempt. I am excited to show them soon... First Friday, in fact- October 3rd at Artwork Network, if you can make it.

Unforeseeable Future

2008-09-18T07:41:00.001-06:00

Every year around Mother's Day, I go to the neighborhood plant-nursery to buy flowers for two giant pots I have in the front of my studio. This is my garden and I revel in tending to it, watching it grow, and admiring the colors that burst from its soil like thick brush strokes projecting outward from the canvas. This year has been a challenging one for me. There were too many things going on, preventing me from buying the flowers this spring. Lack of time and money, while obsessing about not having enough of either, kept me away from my annual ritual of the season.

The summer months quickly passed, as they always do, and I was reminded of my situation every day as I stepped outside, on to my patio where I saw brown empty pots, void of any color. But somewhere in the middle of the summer, I saw life had indeed returned to my garden without my help. I am not really sure what is growing in my pots, whether it's a weed or perhaps a flower that managed to germinate on the behalf of an artist open for change, but it doesn't matter. It gave me hope. Furthermore, it clearly illustrated that life doesn't always happen the way you want it to, yet it continues to flourish in wonderful and unexpected ways.

Acceptance

2008-09-17T10:03:00.000-06:00

I opened my mail this morning and learned I was accepted into The Seventh Annual Lone Tree Arts Exhibition, coming up in October. I was so excited by the news. The summer has been a challenging one, so the timing of this really gave me a much needed shot in the arm. Just a little nudge of encouragement to keep me going.

I will be showing three works at the exhibition, which runs from October 11th thru the 25th. Here is a preview:

How To Place Foot Firmly In Mouth: A Cautionary Tale

2008-09-16T08:24:00.000-06:00

The interview was going exceedingly well, as I leaned back in my chair; my confidence building with every answer. We both knew I was over-qualified for the position and I felt like we were in agreement on so many meaningless details. The connection seemed to warm up the cold, sterile room which was furnished with an ovular meeting table, some cheap office chairs, a white board with cryptic red writing and diagrams scribbled on it, and a window that now served as a shrinking symbol of freedom.

As she spoke, I couldn't help but notice the cross resting above her breast. The conversation continued for a little while longer until she paused to look at her watch. She had other interviews to conduct. In fact, they were all back to back for the next four hours.

"No rest for the wicked," I blurted in the drunkenness of overconfidence. We shook hands and as I walked out the door, I realized I had completely nullified any chance I had at being considered for the position.

DVD Review: Simon Schama- The Power of Art

2008-09-15T07:20:00.001-06:00

Simon Schama's, The Power of Art is a three disc series that explores key artists from the Renaissance through the era of Modern Art. The series is by far the most insightful, well told and well done of any art series I have seen. Simon Schama is an outstanding story-teller, who intrigues us at the beginning of each segment with a particular keystone painting by the artist, and then sets forth from the beginning of the artist's career to weave a complete story of art and creator. There are several other factors that make this series so compelling.

For starters, Schama has chosen a variety of artists: Disc 1 features Carravagio, Bernini and Rembrandt; Disc 2 has David, Turner and Van Gogh; Disc 3 with Picasso and Rothko. Each artist's story begins with a piece you may or may not be familiar with. The narratives are supported by wonderful details of the artwork itself, dramatic story lines, character acting and on-location shots to really help the viewer immerse them self into the artist's world.

An interesting point to mention is though Schama certainly respects all the artists and work shown here, it doesn't necessarily mean he likes all of them. That said, he never lets his own opinions get in the way of revealing each individual's significance in the greater context of art and history. His passion for the arts is contagious.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the series, learning more about artists I wasn't all that familiar with and learning more still about those I thought I knew a great deal of. I appreciate what Simon Schama has done as an historian and story-teller, and truly look forward to seeing more work produced by him and The BBC.

DVD Review: Art City (3 Disc Series)

2008-09-13T11:52:00.001-06:00

I rented a three-disc series called Art City. Each DVD explores an inside perspective in the world of art through in-studio interviews with artists and other art players in various parts of the United States.

The first DVD concentrated on the southwest and west coast. The artists in this film, for the most part, seemed to have retreated into the open spaces of New Mexico and other less, urban locations (though one artist had set up her studio in the middle of Los Angeles). I enjoyed the feeling of this disc the most, though at times, the artists themselves tended to delve into esoteric dialogue that some might have difficulty appreciating.

The second DVD was all about Manhattan and 'making it' in New York. The people in this part of the series were more direct in their interviews which made for a nice contrast of insight offered by the artists in the first part of the series.

The final DVD was my favorite- really thoughtful, more in depth discussions. I felt like the producer and director of the film really got more from their efforts with each part of the series, which were filmed at different times (three separate releases).

I believe this is a must see for any aspiring or emerging artist. It has provided me with inspiration, affirmation and a renewed sense of community that tends to dissipate over time, while we work in our studios alone.

New Release

2008-09-12T07:13:00.002-06:00

I just finished a series of five paintings as part of my Interludes series. This is work envisioned from my trip earlier this year to Chicago for The Artist Project. At the event, I had an epiphany that clearly revealed where I needed to direct my work, creatively speaking. The feeling crystalized over the duration of the event as I was surrounded by the works of peers, masters, and other progressive thinking people within the industry. I was so anxious to move forward on this vision that I actually spent time redoing some of my other musicians when I got back home to better reflect this new style (i.e. the image to the left, "12th Street Rag".

With this new set of paintings, I am leaving behind, for now, the jazz musicians of my past efforts to concentrate on the instruments alone (see image right). The new work is a celebration of their beauty through an exploration of shape and contour with implications of sound and energy. I also see possibilities with the juxtaposition of several instruments together on the same canvas through the interplay of form. Together, they work to create harmony in song. My aim is to capture this concept visually. With all of these elements in mind, I refer to this series of five as my first Album. The album title suggesting a cohesive effort of work within a series, in addition to my affection for music and the musical process.

If you visit my Interludes Gallery, you will find these five paintings under the title of "Album 1"; I think you'll find it obvious from the thumbnails which paintings fall under this category. Currently, I am working on six new works for my second Album and am thrilled with how they are shaping up. More to come soon.

Farewell to August

2008-09-03T07:25:00.006-06:00

We drove along the boulevard and I remembered a new fountain was recently completed with colored lights. I took a left into City Park and continued west for a better view. The final sky of summer back-lit the park providing a silhouette tree-scape. Shiny silver clouds hovering like heavenly chandeliers. To our right, we could see red and purple lights rocketing the water skyward.

I parked the car and the kids ran out and up the stairs, to the fountain alter. JQ and I strolled leisurely behind them. As we approached the edge, I felt the swan song of summer sustain its final chorus just for us. I closed my eyes, caressed by the season’s warm, transient breeze.

Waiting Game

2008-08-25T18:14:00.000-06:00

The good doctor finally turned to one of my newer works. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back; intense focus penetrating the frames of his glasses. I sensed genuine intrigue.

"So this is what you've been working on," he said, with a level of enthusiasm I had long been hoping for.

"Yes." I smiled, attempting to stifle my germinal optimism.

His interest lingered for a moment longer as he paced the length of the wall to view several accompanying pieces from the series. Soon enough, the conversation shifted and we began to discuss other matters which were of little consequence to me. The point was- I finally had his attention.

I Am

2008-08-20T11:21:00.003-06:00

I am the fisherman headed out to sea
The horizon beyond the shore
A symbol of possibility

I am the poet lying in an empty park
Contemplating the universe to myself
As light gives in to dark

I am the alchemist changing metal to gold
Spiritual transmutations
Inexplicably unfold

I am the trusted friend, the one you know so well
The one who will be there for you
Whether in heaven or in hell

I am a prisoner shackled in the current of society
Confined by outmoded principles
With which I do not agree

I am the actor who hides behind a false face
Of a mask that covers the origins
Of ruin and disgrace

I am the child searching through the thickets to find
The secrets of a lifetime
Awaiting far beyond the mind

I am the old man rocking gently in a creaky chair
Reflecting, as I smoke my pipe
Through my long white hair

I am all of these things, as they are me
I am the fisherman returning
Home from the sea.

-JS

It's All About Perspective

2008-08-18T14:45:00.003-06:00

One technique that artists, particularly painters, employ is to step back from the art frequently to gain a different perspective on the work. By doing this, we can see the work within a greater context. Often, this perspective uncovers clues that help direct us to where we want to take the work.

As I paint, for example, I am only working at an arm's length, away from canvas. If it is a larger piece, more than say 12" in any direction, because of my close proximity to the canvas, my attention is focused only on the passage I am working on. Yet, there is still a larger area of the canvas I am consequently ignoring from this intimate view. In order to find harmony within the painting, I therefore need to step back to make sure the passage I am working on works within the larger composition. Additionally, stepping back enables me to more clearly see how the painting as a whole works.

By stepping back, I am providing myself opportunities to see things from a broader perspective and make changes that serve to unite the work, making it stronger. I believe this is a metaphor for looking at life beyond art.

Looks Can Be Deceiving... If You're Judging By Looks

2008-08-13T08:11:00.000-06:00

"Wow! You don't really look like an artist," she proclaimed, immediately following the introduction.

I could only stare back into those shallow eyes, with quiet disbelief.

No Matter What

2008-08-12T06:23:00.003-06:00

No matter what may happen to me from here on out, the creative level I am now able to express myself with was worth the price of admission.

Looking Into The Future

2008-08-12T06:23:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, as I was in the middle of a painting session, I had an amazing revelation. For my latest collection of work (which I will soon post online), I have focused on taking my Interludes series to a new level. This direction stemmed from my experience in Chicago, at The Artist Project, and I have spent my time since then aligning my work to match that vision. I have achieved a milestone in this process, manifesting my first complete body of work; five paintings total which I refer to as my first album (more on this later).

While working on one of the pieces yesterday, I literally found myself looking through the painting, to future editions of my work to where it will evolve to over time. In other words, I could literally see a process from where I am now to where I will eventually be, just as clear as if it had already happened. The joy will ultimately be in the process, but knowing where I am going gave me such a warm feeling, I could hardly contain myself.

Special Delivery

2008-08-11T08:36:00.001-06:00

Over the weekend, I delivered two new commissioned paintings to some folks who had patiently waited for the arrival of their art. I always enjoy this part of the process. At the beginning of a commissioned project, there is an energy I share with my clients that comes from possibilities of creation and collaboration. Once I am able to capture and visually demonstrate my ideas, and they are accepted, that feeling shifts slightly to one of anticipation. There is no way I can precisely illustrate what the final work will look like, so there is a leap of faith between my finalized sketch and the finished painting. As a result, when the paintings are finally delivered to their new home, the emotion elevates to a point that always makes for a joyous reception. Last weekend was no exception.

I have included a picture of the paintings as they hang in their new home. To see each painting on its own, please visit http://www.jaredsteinberg.com/ccagallery.htm.

How Do I Know When A Painting Is Finished?

2008-08-06T07:13:00.000-06:00

"How do you know when you've finished a painting?" he asked. It's an interesting question I get asked a lot. The more experience I gain, however, the easier it is for me to answer the question because I am more deliberate with my work than ever before. In other words, I know what a "Jared Steinberg" painting should look like. My work is the rhythm and harmony of lights, darks and color with a consitent treatment of brushwork. I have also developed a particular philosophy on color pairings that serve to shape my palette. Because my style has emerged to a certain level of consistency through the expressive brushstrokes which I call Contemporary Expressionism, I can often visualize my paintings on canvas while they are still blank. My paintings are finished when the work matches my vision.

I think the real key to all of this is work. Hard work has given me time and experience to be more intentional with my art, resulting in an inherent understanding of my paintings that has developed concurrently with my skill level.

Revealing

2008-07-22T08:00:00.000-06:00

Last week, I attended an artist reception at The Colorado Women's Chamber of Commerce. The event, titled All That Jazz, featured my work along with three other Colorado artists. I was the only painter; the other artists were photographers and the work on display centered around the theme of jazz. The reception was very enjoyable with food, wine and a jazz band.

I met my L there. I was a little nervous and tense when I first arrived. After a little conversation with L and a glass of wine, we circulated a bit through the crowd to the area where the band was. As I listened to the music, I took in the shape of the instruments, the sounds, the textures of the evening. I tried to visually capture moments for future paintings. I finally relaxed and we circulated back into the group to meet people.

There was one woman who really fascinated me. She appeared to be well connected in the CWCC network and was introducing various people to one another. When she met me and discovered I was ‘the painter,’ she immediately knew I must be a bass player. I was shocked and gratified- few people take the time to deduce that I am also a musician, but I never had anyone able to pinpoint my instrument of choice through my paintings.

I left the reception satisfied. Not only were my paintings well received, but knowing that I was able to, subliminally, effectively communicate with somebody else through my art without the aid of words… well, words alone just won’t suffice to explain my feelings.

Gone To A Good Home

2008-07-14T12:18:00.004-06:00

I'm very happy to write I sold a painting today. It's called "Underneath The Bridge" and is an abstraction of train wheels. I typically run two to three times each week. Usually, my route goes through Downtown Denver and back again. After I pass one way, through downtown, I travel along the Platte River on the bike path. This takes me under several bridges where I often see trains passing or stopped along the tracks. This painting reflects those observations. I'm glad I was able to find it a good home.

Dialed In

2008-07-10T11:10:00.000-06:00

Getting into the "mood" to paint (or doing anything, really) can be a challenge at times. I remember one of my professors in college explaining to the class that you can't sit around and wait for inspiration to strike you, otherwise, you could be waiting for a long time. He urged us, instead, to work even when we didn't feel like it. Work, in turn, would breed inspiration. I was reminded of this through a quote passed along to me from JQ by Virginia Woolf, "For masterpieces are no single and solitary births, they are the outcome of many years of thinking by the body of the people, so the the experience of the mass is behind the single voice."

As I mentioned in a recent blog (10 New Works from June '08), I am very excited about my new work. I am being more intentional with the brush than ever before and I am therefore able to see my paintings more clearly. I believe this is the direct result from the advice I received so many years ago. It wouldn't have been enough for me to be inspired; I had to make sure my skills were sharp enough and mature enough to permit me to render what was in my head, and I kept them so during the times when I was learning more than I was being inspired. As I painted yesterday, I was acutely aware when my mind and body act together, there is a harmony between me and the canvas. The harmony creates an effortlessness that essentially makes the work paint itself- I almost feel like I'm just painting by numbers because I can virtually see the painting hidden in the canvas and acting on it is merely intuitive. This is how it's supposed to feel!

Article of Interest to All Artists

2008-06-25T06:36:00.003-06:00

I happened to find this article from The National Endowment for the Arts, and thought it would be good to share. I think the statistics on employment and income are particularly interesting. Comments are welcome.

http://www.nea.gov/news/news08/ArtistsinWorkforce.html.

Censorship

2008-06-24T07:26:00.000-06:00

I'm finishing work on a new piece, based off a William Blake quote, called "The Road Of Excess Leads To The Palace Of Wisdom". After considering various ways to approach the composition, I decided to render the work with an urban setting, as opposed to an actual road leading to a palace. One symbol of excess is a nude woman lying on a couch.

I have painted several nude works in the past, and have various studies in my sketchbooks of the human form. Whenever I present the work publicly, it is always interesting to see the reaction. Whether or not folks are interested in the nude figure in the first place, fewer still seem to be willing to hang such work in their home (let alone their workplace). To many folks, the nude is taboo; to the artist, it is a celebration of nature and the human form.

As I mentioned in my "Impressions of Impressionist Exhibit" blog, I read Ross King's book, "Michelangelo and The Pope's Ceiling." It details the story of how Michelangelo painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The book covers a great deal, from the historical figures of the time, to painting methods, politics and even the social climate of the times. One of the topics discussed is how even in the Renaissance period, nude figures were still controversial and met with resistance, even though many such works, great works at that, were generated during that time.

Here I find myself in 2008 debating how my nude figure will be received by the public. Interesting to me how some topics remain controversial, no matter how much the world appears to change.

Ten New Works

2008-06-19T07:35:00.006-06:00

I just finished assembling ten new canvasses to paint. Two of them will be commissioned work, two more will be paintings based off my trip to Chicago, and the remaining six will mark a new direction in my Interludes series.

This body of work marks a different approach in painting for me. In the past, I would sketch out a concept with a fairly good idea of where I wanted to go with the work. Once I began actual painting, however, I would search to tie up any compositional loose-ends directly on the canvas. The ten works I'm beginning now will be more planned. This method was derived from lessons learned at The Artist Project in addition to reading about the way the Renaissance artists worked. Michelangelo, for example, produced approximately 300 sketches for one of his projects. Though I don't believe my studies will be that extensive, the benefit of immersing myself into a particular study enables me to become more of an "expert" on any given subject. This, in turn, bodes well for me to convincingly render that particular subject on to canvas.

Through this conceptualization process, I am already beginning to visualize how the finalized work will appear. It is enabling me to be very deliberate and ultimately, I think the next ten works will be some of my best paintings yet. I'm very excited. Stay tuned!!!

Exploration of Self

2008-06-12T08:11:00.004-06:00

Several months ago, I decided to paint a self-portrait. Over the years, I attempted several self-portraits that produced mixed results. Consequently, I have kept only one painting bearing my likeness (pictured top). This time, I planned to attempt a portrait, borrowing the composition from one of the masters. My latest effort is therefore based off Jan Vermeer's "Georgrapher" (bottom).

Initially, I was concerned with learning the delicate glazing techniques that Vermeer was known for. As the painting progressed, my path changed course. I diverted from learning Vermeer's glazing and focused on developing and fine-tuning the characteristics that make up a "Jared Steinberg" painting. I think the end result produced my best self-portrait to date that I'm proud to display (center).

Book Review: Michelangelo And The Pope's Ceiling

2008-06-10T08:10:00.006-06:00

I just finished a very interesting book by Ross King called, "Michelangelo And The Pope's Ceiling". I was drawn to read the book, originally, to learn more about Michelangelo, but the work offers so much more. The author examines the motives and points of view from both Michelangelo and Pope Julius II and their artist/patron relationship to revise the interior of The Sistine Chapel. Though the writing revolves around these two main characters, King also delves into personal, political, historical and artistic insights as well. The book additionally explores several of myths surrounding the painting of the chapel's ceiling.

I found it interesting though Michelangelo emphatically prefered sculpture to any other medium (i.e. painting and architecture), the frescoes he painted in the Sistine Chapel impressed and inspired his contemporaries while remaining some of his most famous works to this day. In fact, not only did several years elapse since the artist completed his last painting, but he had never actually worked on a fresco before. The book explains what a technical challenge this was, as Michelangelo literally learned this skill as he painted the Sistine Chapel's ceiling.

All in all, the book proved to be a wealth of information, terminology and inspiration to me. The writing really warmed up as the book progressed. If my academic readings had been this interesting, back in the day, I just might have retained more history. All in all, I give it 6 out of 7 brushes. I hold out on the last brush, because I would have liked to read a follow up on the fresco of the altar wall (of The Last Judgement); the book only covers the work Michelangelo did on the ceiling, as that was the work specifically commissioned by Julius. No doubt, I will be making more references to the book in forthcoming blogs. In the meantime, I definitely recommend reading this.

Three To One

2008-06-04T07:05:00.009-06:00

I was sitting in between three walls of my paintings at The Artist Project show with JQ. We had arranged the show so that each wall featured a different series; to my left was the 'Scapes series, behind me the jazz musicians from my Interludes series, and to my right were various stories from my Narratives series.

A year ago, we were in Vail with a similar setup for an art festival there. I remember a woman walking into the booth and commenting on how it seemed that each series was painted by a different artist.

This has been a dilemma for me- as an artist who is ultimately seeking to be represented by a gallery, my work not only has to be of a certain quality to enter the market place, but galleries also favor consistency. With my focus divided by three different pursuits, how do I resolve this challenge? From my point of view, I am interested in the subject matter of each series, I enjoy the diversity, and learn lessons from one that I can apply to the others. Though each series differs in terms of content, the application of the paint is the same; in the style I have named for my work as Contemporary Expressionism.

As JQ and I sat in the booth, a woman walked in and looked around at each wall. Her initial reaction was, "These works seem to have been done by different artists." After spending a little more time observing, however, she retracted her statement and admitted the styles were more in accord than she had originally perceived. Was this a confirmation that I had made progress in the last year? I can't say for sure, but I do believe in spite of the different themes I've chosen to explore, I am gaining consistency in bridging them so that when you look at one of my paintings, you will recognize it as a "Jared Steinberg" painting.

Paint Binder

2008-05-29T08:00:00.000-06:00

I recently completed a commissioned work for a friend of mine who was surprising his wife for their anniversary. He wanted me to paint a picture of the house they will be moving from soon.

After our initial meeting, I was eager to get to work on his project. He was so enthusiastic about the collaboration. That enthusiasm, in turn, fueled my passion for the painting and so the ideas readily came to me. Though the work appears at first to be of the house alone, if you look closely, the windows in the center allude to several chapters from the family's history. Subtleties in my work are some of the things I enjoy most about painting. They help me create artwork you can come back to again and again, finding something different each time in a brushstroke, a color or even meaning.

The joy carried through the entire project- from the meeting, to the planning, painting, and eventual delivery of the final product. When the couple finally saw the finished piece, I knew from their reaction that what I had put into the work was received by them in a very special way. It is for this reason that I enjoy doing customized commissioned artwork- the emotional aspect of connecting with others through art.