Summer Feature Exhibit: Celebrating the Creative Journey
Artist’s Statement
My creative journey? Because I find Journey implies a difficult movement, I prefer to think of it as a long slow creative evolution. And this has largely been on my own terms, like “hunt and peck” on a typewriter, slow but sure. Efficiently, like a glacier.
My 4th and 5th grade teachers encouraged me to decorate chalkboards or classroom windows with holiday designs using color chalks and poster paints. In the 7th grade, I copied pictures of teen idols from fan magazines and sold the drawings to girls in the class for a quarter each.
I had two radically different high school art teachers: the first was incredibly supportive and nurturing, the latter was as rigid as the bars we’d stretch canvas on. As a result, I figured, “why spend a lot of money and end up with the same rigidity in college?” but I was young and (more) foolish then. I probably missed out on many possibilities, but that ship has sailed.
So, I learned from observing other artists, both internationally known, and those within my own circles. I was impressed with Degas’ minimalism, with Wyeth’s abstract compositions, Jessica Raimondi’s looseness, Dali’s playfulness, Käthe Kollwitz’s and Shane Wolf’s power, Sargent’s spontaneity, Klimt’s elegance, and the draughtsmanship of James Childs and Otto Greiner.
Often, the best advice I got was from fellow artists like Jennifer Fais or Roland Serania. They were not afraid to tell me when I was “way off” and that I could do a whole lot better. And I have certainly received much support and encouragement from Lin Gardner and Jesse Gardner over the many years that I have been allowed to show work at West End Gallery.
Over the years, I have tried many different drawing and painting media: pencils, color pencils, charcoal, pastels, gouache, watercolor. Despite a long phase with oil painting, I came to regard myself as “good at drawing, not painting.” So now I call my pictures “mixed media” because they involve whatever materials it takes to bring that picture to life.
I assume I had some natural ability to draw. But in the case of many of my best pieces, I’m just the midwife. It’s as if the piece was meant to come into the world, and I was there to help it along.
Inspiration is all around me. “Waiting In Line” was based on a photo I took of a guy in line at Paia Fish Market because the lighting looked right. One of Kathy Anastasio’s photo shoots of my daughters Adriana and Amelia is the basis for “I Tried Hard to Understand You.” A telephone among the props in the art room at Windward Community College led to “One of These Things Is Not Like the Other.” And the old family photo album or interesting historical and art blogs I follow offer a treasure trove of ideas: intriguing faces and thought provoking situations.
I love old photos. When I started to primarily focus on portraits and figures, I would study old photos and realize that aside from transitory hairstyles and clothing, we are all the same underneath: the same skin, the same emotions, the same dealing with life as best we can on a daily basis.
With that, I like to make people happy, or at least forget about the nonsense in the world for a few minutes. I can’t cure world hunger or social injustice, but maybe I can keep you amused for a minute. Or maybe you’ll think about something from a new and different angle based on one of my pictures. I generally distrust artists with lengthy explanations of what they are attempting to depict. I don’t think they are visual artists, but rather, just fancy writers. My work doesn’t come with complicated back stories or messages. Actually, in exchange for letting the viewer see my work, I appreciate hearing their interpretations and take-aways. We can only make life better in partnership and the exchange of ideas.Â