Beauty, mystery, intrigue -- because we are creative, thinking human beings, we look for these elements in life.

Sadly, too many people are derailed by movies, TV, and the entertainment industry, accepting a flashy substitute for the real things. And so we absorb  ourselves in make-believe fantasies carefully crafted by people whose primary goal is to advance the interests of advertisers.

It's easy to mistake many of the entertainment industry's messages for reality, even as we assure ourselves that "we know it's just a movie." And while we may sidestep the more obvious points -- people don't fly, cats can't talk, zombies (honestly!) aren't real -- we find ourselves, without really realizing it, becoming disillusioned with real, everyday, ordinary life, because there's no way it can reach the impossible shining glamorous glitter of TV and movies. Especially reality TV and movies.

Surrounded by surround sound, mentally going slow mo as we recall the fighting or dancing moves of our favorite star, we no longer see -- or even bother to look for -- the beauty, mystery and intrigue in the world around us.

Beauty Really Does Surround Us

Obviously, this beauty, mystery, and intrigue isn't in the office cubicle or grocery store aisle (both of which, incidentally, look much more exciting on the screen). But this beauty, mystery, and intrigue is in the leaves that we swish through as we walk a hidden path through the forest; it is in the still, mirrored image of a lake as we stare out over its surface and breathe as silently as we can, so that we don't disturb the geese swimming at the other end; it is in the desert as the sun works its way to setting, and the moon -- on the other side of the sky -- rises to light the night.

Such is the scene we find in Moon Rising, and the painting invites us to join the woman in the desert, holding close the blanket around her because the warmth of the desert day rapidly changes to the cool of the desert night. It is quiet here, and quite peaceful -- a place of beauty, mystery, and intrigue.

Fine Art Brings Beauty, Mystery, and Intrigue into the Home

We can't always get outside when the sun is setting just right, and the shadows are fleeting. But when we make fine art a part of our homes and lives, the beauty captured in representational paintings like Moon Rising is there before our eyes, every time we step into the room. The artwork invites us to enter the landscape and feel the peace within.

Moon Rising, in addition to being available as an original painting, is also available as a print in various formats, as well as an image on products (what better way to incorporate art in one's life?) at Steve Henderson Collections. The images below are a few samples of products featuring Moon Rising at Steve Henderson Collections.

Normally, I enjoy staying in hotels - it's fun to pretend to be pampered because someone else cleans the bathroom. But a recent hospitality stay left me questioning the experience.

The place was new -- crisp and "modern" -- its businesslike facade hiding that behind the contemporary aura is an essential cheapness.

The turned-down beds, consisting of white sheets, undersized pillows and a flimsy layer of dark fabric pretending to be a comforter, exuded an air of austere sternness. The black resin desk and end tables -- you see these at box stores, marketed toward college students --  reinforced that this room was no place like home, at least no home I want to live in. (Sadly, judging from design magazines circulated through the licensing industry, it's the type of home we're being prepared -- through TV, through movies, through advertising, through peer pressure -- to accept. Will we?)

The color palette was dark blue, charcoal, and slate grey, and the "artwork," true to the dictates of the home design industry, matched the rug. If they had cut out a rectangle of carpet and put it behind glass, they couldn't have done better.

In short, whoever designed the place did a remarkable job of replicating the office cubicle. Which makes me wonder, who designs this stuff, and why? And more important, why would anyone pay money to sleep in an office cubicle?

Minimalist, impersonal, stark, cold, lacking any sense of texture, warmth, color, or personality, the decor of the corporate world is not designed for human beings, but drones.

It's something to think about.

Artwork Is So Much More Than Decor

Because we live in a corporate global economy with a religious fervor to sell us stuff, all the time, artwork is reduced to its lowest state, that of a decoration or knickknack that happens to hang on the wall. And because it's just a knickknack, its principal purpose is to match the rest of the room, which is where we get that tiresome maxim of the home design industry, "Match the artwork to the rug!"

But art does so much more than that, when we look for work that is painted with emotion and soul, by an artist with emotion, soul, and skill. Art invites us into a world of beauty, and by encouraging us to view that beauty, reflect upon that beauty, and dream about things that could be as we walk away from the lies and seek out the truth, art shows us something that we're in danger of forgetting: life is not meant to be lived in an office cubicle.

(The image to the left is Light of Zion -- take a moment to pause, and gently let your eyes run over it. Join the woman in the image as she walks -- almost floats -- through an incredibly beautiful, rugged landscape, amazingly, with heels. How does she do this? My own story sees her as walking through life, transcending its difficulties by grace and a dependence upon a higher power who is the Father of all mankind. Your own story will be different -- but the painting, unlike a movie in which everything is set up for you to follow and accept, invites you to ponder, wonder, dream, imagine, and think. Light of Zion is available both as an original painting at Steve Henderson Fine Art as well as a print, and image on products  -- like coffee cups, yoga mats, and phone cases --  at Steve Henderson Collections.)

This post is linked to Family Fun Friday, Share Your Style, and Sharefest.

Being stressed out is so common in our corporate American culture -- which spills over into our "free time" -- that when we're not overworked and feeling anxious, we wonder if something is wrong.

There's never enough money; taxes don't go down; workplace woes, which are funny on sitcoms or syndicated comic strips, lose their shine in real life; and when the washing machine isn't making strange sounds, the interior of the refrigerator feels warm. Add to that our wondering if this is what life is all about, and are we living our one and only existence meaningfully or not? and you have stress.

But we weren't meant to exist like this, and waiting until retirement, or dying and going to heaven, for a relief just isn't the best option.

Stress Doesn't Like Quiet Speculation

Advice abounds on how to counteract stress, and because we are a corporate culture, controlled by those whose primary interest in us is monetary, there's always a pill to take. But there are small, creative actions we can take to counteract the stress in our lives. If you have a piece of representational fine art on your walls, you have the means of taking one of these small, creative actions:

Sit down in front of the painting, perhaps with a cup of tea or coffee (life slows down with a hot drink in our hands). Look at the painting -- explore the brushwork, look at the light and shadows, observe how certain parts of the work are crisp and defined, and others are brushier, more impressionistic, even abstract -- especially in the background.

(As an aside, just by doing this, you are performing an action that the elitist art snob community avers that "ordinary" people can't do -- you are looking at art with a critical eye and speculating upon the quality, skill, artistry, and meaning of the piece. If more people gained confidence in their ability to judge art, then not only would more regular, real people buy art, but they would do so assertively, secure in the knowledge that what speaks to their soul belongs on their walls.)

Back to the painting: your object, in sitting down in front of the painting to contemplate it, is not only to slow down and be quiet (in themselves actions that are the opposite to what we normally do when we're stressed), but also to pull yourself out of your mind for awhile, that mind where worries, thoughts, and anxieties are contributing to your stress. It is easy, in our society where there are so many things to do, and many more things to worry about, to allow our thoughts to run along the same channels over and over.

NOT Thinking about Your Worries

In contemplating the painting, you push your mind to think about something other than your worries for a moment, and in stepping outside of your worries and into the painting, you explore routes that you may not have taken before. For example, in the work Riverside Muse (above left), you could ask yourself, "Who is this woman?" "What is she doing by the river?" "Is she sad, happy, content, questioning, curious, peaceful?"

In exploring the background, where the river wends, one wonders, "What is way back there, in the background? Are those bushes? Does the river end there, or does it turn and go on?"

And from there, as your mind slows and gently begins to meander along with the river, you think, "What would it be like for me, if I were there in that picture right now? What if I were the woman in the painting?" -- And there you enter the magical world of finely done representational art, art that looks like a place or a person or an environment -- but not like a photograph, with little left to the imagination to fill, but like a place you want to be. It is a place that changes every time you look at it, because not only does the painting change with your moods, it transforms depending upon the light and shadows cast upon it.

Be Someplace Beautiful and Relax

That's what representational art does -- it invites you in to the place it depicts, and encourages you to stop, stay, meditate, reflect, wonder, daydream, and ponder great things -- and these very actions are a counteraction to the worry, anxiety, fret, and disquiet of stress.

Feeling stressed? Brew a cup of tea or coffee, find a beautiful painting, and contemplate it. Go someplace beautiful and find solace there.

Fine Art and Home Decor for Your Life, Home, and Office

Art belongs in all of our lives, and it goes so much further than matching our sofa and rug. The best fine art is that which speaks to our soul, encouraging us to think big thoughts and wonder at the world around us. Steve Henderson paints art like this, and in addition to selling original paintings and creating customized commissioned works, he also offers prints in various formats (framed, canvas, metal, acrylic, wood, poster) at Steve Henderson Collections.

Click on the images in this article to see them at Steve Henderson Collections, or click on the product images below, featuring a sampling of Steve's images, to be taken to the purchase page for those items. All products from Steve Henderson Collections come with a 30-day, money-back guarantee through Fine Art America. To read more about buying artwork, confidently, for yourself, please see our article, 5 Super Easy Tips for Choosing the Right Artwork for Your Home.

Gold is so much more than a precious metal, something to be hoarded, stored away, and counted. This type of gold is one limited to a very few. It is because gold is so rare, we are told, that it is valuable.

But there is more to value than rarity, and indeed, those items and elements of true, intrinsic worth are frequently those we overlook because they are so "common" -- fresh air comes to mind, sunshine, blue skies, autumn leaves, and silence. These are gifts of the earth that are meant for all because they are so meaningful, and their value is increased, as opposed to diminished, when all have access to them.

The Value of True, Real Gold

True gold is a color glowing from the landscape as the sunlight dances through the leaves, brushes across the grass, and emanates from the sky above. Gold in this sense is available to all people around the world because it is a gift from God through nature. As recipients of this gift, we honor the giver by ensuring the skies stay clear, the air stays fresh, and the sunlight is not impeded in its journey from space to the land in which we live.

Like many gifts, the gold of nature frequently goes unopened because we are too busy to stop, look, wonder, reflect, and observe. But when we do take this time, we are rewarded by a glimpse of what light does to a landscape. In Gold Leaf, the original oil painting, a rural country landscape pulsates with golden glow, a glow that turns a meadow of grass and trees into a fantasy world, one magical in its appearance and allure.

Gold Leaf as Wall Art and Home Decor

Fine art belongs in all of our lives because it, like real gold, has an intrinsic value that celebrates beauty. In addition to the original oil painting, Gold Leaf is available as a print in many formats (framed, canvas, metal art, acrylic, wood, poster) at Steve Henderson Collections. Gold Leaf is also available as an image on products you use everyday -- coffee mugs, phone cases, tote bags, and even shower curtains and hoodies. Fine art takes the extraordinary in our lives and turns it into the extraordinary.

Click on the images below to learn more about the product and how you can add it to your life. All purchases from Steve Henderson Collections include a 30-day, money-back guarantee through Fine Art America. Products are shipped worldwide.

The Grand Canyon is aptly named. What could be more descriptive of this mighty array of cliff formations set over such a vast space?

Many people, upon first viewing the Grand Canyon, whether from its North Rim or its South Rim at the National Park or the West Rim on the Hualapai Reservation, say nothing but simply stare. There is so much to visually and metaphysically take in. Silence is the most natural reaction.

Stillness, Steve Henderson's original oil painting, captures this sense of awe and wonder, in tandem with a reverence and honor toward nature's majesty. This latter sensation is one that we all too easily lose in the process of checking out the gift shop, or figuring out where we'll be eating lunch, or reviewing our travel schedule on the phone to see where next we are supposed to be.

It is a time and place to simply be still.

Supporting the Parks and Places of Natural Beauty

While the natural tendency of many human beings, when encountering a place of majestic beauty, is to stand quietly and view it, other people quite unfortunately think differently. Investment and financial acumen factor so strongly in their way of thinking that when they see pristine beauty their first thought is, "How can we develop this to make a profit off of it?"

Within the United States, the regional, state, and national park system is supposed to counteract the irreversible damage done by unfettered development for the profit of a few. Sadly, politics is more speech than action, but there are places -- like the Grand Canyon in the Southwest -- where pristine beauty has been preserved in some form for people to experience and enjoy.

Paint the Parks is a non-profit organization that encourages artists to paint these protected places of beauty, and encourages art lovers to purchase these works. In support of treasured natural beauty, Steve participates with Paint the Parks, donating 10 percent of the sale price of original paintings on his Supporting National, State, and Regional Parks page to the non-profit association or foundation connected to the park in which the image is captured.

Stillness is one of these paintings, with 10 percent of the sale price of the original painting designated toward the Grand Canyon National Park or the Hualapai Nation (the painting purchaser chooses which of the two) when it is purchased at this link.

Creativity is an elusive, almost mysterious thing -- something that everyone wants to possess, in that they want to be a notable musician, or a writer of inspiring prose or a painter -- like Steve -- who captures light and shadow, feeling and form. These are people who take creativity to its highest heights, and frankly, such creativity is overlooked and undervalued in these days of trying to pull out of people whatever we can, so that some corporation, somewhere, can make money off of their talent. Creativity was meant to enhance the soul of man. It is best done when that soul is taken into account.

All people, in some way or another, are creative, because we are creative beings. When we lose this creativity -- by spending hours in front of the TV screen or phone -- or when, like many successful financial magnates and businesspersons, we pursue the making of money at the expense of living our lives -- we lose something more precious than any stock, bond, or bitcoin.

It is vital that we, as humans, maintain and nurture creativity, both in ourselves and in those around us. Like a flower, creativity is fragile but tough, and demanding that it exist in the wrong conditions is as bad as not appreciating it at all. Read more about this in Steve's LinkedIn article, Why Your Creatives Aren't Being Creative.

Ocean Breeze, a consistent top-seller as a licensed print at Great Big Canvas (as of today, it's well in the top 1 percent of sales for the popular Figurative Art Category), is a featured artwork at Joss and Main's Get the Picture Event, which runs through Sunday, November 16, 2014.

Ocean Breeze, an exuberant celebration of life, freedom, and joy, has found its way onto book covers, t-shirts for weekend retreats, and licensed prints through many online home decor retailers, including iCanvasART, Framed Canvas Art, Amazon.com, and Art.com.

Jump into 2014 learning, or improving, a painting skill: Steve's digital workshop DVD, Step by Step Watercolor Success, is now available through Amazon.com.

Whether you are an absolute beginner or an intermediate painter, Steve leads you, step by step, through the watercolor process, discussing tools, methods, mixing colors, creating a reference from which to paint, and more. Drawing upon his successful workshops, Steve leads the viewer to paint Purple Iris on and Lonesome Barn through his unique Sequences Method, in which students build the painting, frame by frame, glazing one color over another.

It's never too early for Christmas, and the countdown has begun -- regardless of what day of the year it is. Check out Steve's three Santa videos on YouTube

These Gifts Are Better Than Toys set to Joy to the World

Little Angel Bright set to Angels We Have Heard on High

Christmas Story set to Away in a Manger

Steve's Digital Watercolor Workshop -- based upon the Purple Iris original watercolor painting -- nears completion and will be available for sale shortly on the Steve Henderson Fine Art website.

There are a lot of people out there who want to learn to paint, period, or who want to improve what they are already doing, and Steve's first Digital Watercolor Workshop covers the basics, and beyond, step by step in a friendly, easy-to-use format that you can follow along right on your computer or television screen.

After years of doing workshops for private and community organizations, Steve is pulling together people's main challenges and questions into a veritable workshop in a DVD case, and at the conclusion of the tutorial, students will have a Purple Iris of their own -- uniquely theirs -- and additional skill and ability with the watercolor process.

If you subscribe to our newsletter, Start Your Week with Steve, you will be one of the first to learn when the Digital Watercolor Workshop is available.

Wait for it -- but it won't be long.

Steve is putting together a PowerPoint video series of how-to-paint workshops based upon actual workshops that he gives. First on the docket is Purple Iris. While he was painting this piece, Steve took photos every few brush strokes, and he is assembling a painting tutorial that will allow you to follow the process with him, step by step.

At the end of the tutorial, you will not only have a completed painting, you will have spent a considerable amount of time with Steve, learning what materials he uses, what colors of paints, what techniques, and how he chooses the subject matter for a painting piece in the first place. The information you learn will enable you to launch forward into your next painting project.

It's amazing -- the information you would find in a two-day workshop, which can run anywhere from $100 - $300 -- but for much, much less. Think more along the lines of the price of a book but replete with visuals, illustrations, and step-by-step instructions. If you are an amateur, the guides will gently lead you; if you are intermediate and confident to push forward boldly, the information is there, and you may take from it what you wish.

We will post the new tutorials on the website as soon as they are available, and we will alert Steve's Facebook followers and newsletter subscribers as well. If you want to move forward on your art and there is something that you want to learn, contact us at [email protected] with your ideas. We listen to them all.

I don't know about you, but ten years ago I had difficulty buying anything but a book over the Internet. I mean, what if I bought socks and they didn't fit? (This problem was solved when I started knitting my own socks.) Or shoes? 

And then I started buying things. I started with tea -- I found a reputable tea dealer (Upton Tea, for those of you who are interested), and was ecstatic to find that their product -- in addition to being something I couldn't find locally -- was superb, and their customer service was unparalleled.

From tea we went to all sorts of products, and now, a significant amount of our monthly purchases are made through the Internet.

So what about fine art? Can you successfully purchase it over the Internet?

Given that we sell Steve's paintings over the Internet, I would say, "Yes, definitely, depending from whom you are purchasing." In the same way that I was ecstatic over my tea purveyor's selection, quality, and customer service, we at Steve Henderson Fine Art take seriously these same elements: 

1) We have a wide selection of artwork, in various prices, from which to choose. From originals to limited edition prints to posters, we span the price range and meet any budget.

2) The quality of Steve's work -- both of the actual artwork and the materials upon which it rests -- is superb.

3) We stand behind everything we sell, from a PDF Article Booklet to an original painting.

4) We work as closely with our clients as they wish -- each and every purchase made through the Buy Now Button is inidividually acknowledged, and clients are given detailed information as to when and how their product will be shipped. Many of our clients who purchase originals or limited edition prints communicate with us back and forth via e-mail or phone (and we now have the option to Skype), and we ensure that their questions are answered to their satisfaction -- before, during, and after the sale.

5) For those people who wonder, "Who are you, anyway? How do I know it's safe to buy through the individual artist as opposed to a 'real' gallery?" we willingly provide business and character references. You will not offend us by asking.

As you will see by reading Our Prices, one of the best things about buying directly from the artist -- at least this artist -- is that you do not pay the extra price to cover the gallery's commission, which is frequently 50 percent of the painting's sale price. Buying direct, in this case, really does save money.

Please feel free to contact us anytime at [email protected].

I love my Honda Fit. And while that may seem to have nothing to do with art, actually, it does.

You see, I drive my Honda Fit, everywhere, and in the process of its being used, it gets dusty, the tires see some wear, the interior windows next to where the Toddler sits get coated with whatever sticky stuff she's got on her hands and smears onto the glass. (I know. I don't want to know much more than that, either.)

Honestly, if I kept my Honda Fit inside the garage and never drove it for, say, 10 years, it would look exactly the way it did the day I bought it, and I could resell it -- maybe at a profit -- because it would be such a great investment!

But you know, people don't buy cars to keep as investments. They buy them to drive in them, and when it's the right car, like my cute, sassy, blazing barbecue orange Honda Fit, they enjoy the process.

If more people thought about art this way, more people would own, and enjoy paintings. But all of a sudden, when people look at a painting, they go into this "I Must Make a Profit on This Investment Mode" -- even if what they're looking at is a limited edition print for $80. Somehow, they tell themselves, if they purchase this, they need to be able to resell it, ten years down the road, for $200, because that's what you do with art -- you buy it as an investment. 

What a sad, limited world view, one that keeps people from renovating their aesthetic lives and their home's walls. The best reason to buy art is because you like it, because when you see the painting or the print it makes you happy, because you want it, because -- like my Honda Fit -- it's smart, sassy, sophisticated, and fun -- in short, that painting is You.

Enjoy driving your car -- it's a marvel of technology. Drink the wine that you like -- red, white, blush -- because only you have your unique palate. And buy art because you like it. Any other reason is less than the best.

Steve sells his work as affordable wall art prints, home accessories, personal items, greeting cards, coffee mugs and more through Fine Art America.

canvas prints for sale

prints for sale

romantic paintings for sale

woman paintings for sale

country paintings for sale

"You know, it's not a sin to make mistakes, fail to succeed on the first (or 45th) try, or generally show that we're imperfect. The unspoken strictures that some businesses/churches/schools/establishments place upon their members/employees make following the 10 Commandments look pretty darn easy."

From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter of Steve Henderson Fine Art

Materials aren't free and time is precious -- that being said, if more artists would worry less about creating the perfect painting and more about experimenting and getting better at what they do, then they would sooner reach a consistency of quality and create paintings with which they are delighted, time after time.

But if you skip that stage -- that practicing and trying and saying, "Oh, what the heck; if I don't like it, I'm out a little paint, the canvas, some time -- but I've gained in experience and wisdom" -- then you'll find that you're so worried about perfection, that you never achieve it.

There are enough people in our lives expecting unrealistic things of us, that we don't have to be one of them. Falling down isn't failure. Trying and not getting it quite right isn't tragedy. Doing something completely different, just because, isn't a waste of time.

Go for it. Grab a different brush. Use a color you usually avoid. Shake around your subject matter. Play with your paint and see where it takes you on the next step of your journey.

"When someone tells you to 'get out of your comfort zone,' wait for it. It's highly likely that they're subtly or not-so-subtly nudging you into doing something that they know you don't want to do, but they need done." 

From Start Your Week with Steve, the free weekly e-mail newsletter from Steve Henderson Fine Art, designed to jump start your week with flair.

We really owe seminar speakers a lot: they are the ones who come up with these tiresome platitudes that we battle on a daily basis.

Have you ever asked yourself, "Why are random people so concerned about my comfort zone, and whether or not I'm in it?"

And, "Just where is it that they want me to go?"

In the real world, there is a difference between a rut and a path, the former being a place where dirty water settles and gets your feet all wet, the latter being a directional aid in getting you where you want to go. All too frequently, we muddy the two, helped, no doubt, by people around us who point out that we seem too "comfortable" doing things the way we do, and perhaps we should step off our clear path onto the one they are suggesting.

But there is a reason we feel comfortable doing what we do: it fits us. It makes sense. It's relatively easy because it meshes with the way we think, believe, and process information. It's only when we're afraid, timid, reluctant, huddled in the ditch against the breeze that we're actually in a rut, and generally, we can figure this out without someone pointing it out to us.

Go ahead: do what you do best, and do it in the way that makes sense to you. Challenge yourself, try something new, shake up your routine -- but do it because you want to do it, not because someone scolds you into thinking that you should.

"Frustration isn't always such a bad thing. It's a sign that you're trying something new, different, or outside your level of familiarity, and in working your way through it (and you will) you conquer this challenge and move on to the next one."

-- From Start Your Week with Steve free weekly e-mail newsletter

One of the most satisfying things I do is teaching another person how to knit. And every time I do so, I conclude the lesson with this encouragement:

"You've just learned. While knitting is fairly simple, consisting of basically two stitches -- a knit stitch and a purl stitch -- until you practice, and do it over and over and over, you will not get good.

"And in the process of practicing, and learning how to be good, you will find that you forget some things, or that your knitting looks uneven, or that you drop stitches and you don't know how to get back. And you will get frustrated.

"Not only is this normal, but this is good, and if you're not getting frustrated, then you're probably not pushing yourself beyond your existing skill.

"You are not stupid. You are not unusual. You are not weird. You are normal.

"You are above normal when you accept the challenge, fight it, and win.

"Now -- go and knit."

This same advice applies in anything you do, including and especially including artwork such as painting or sculpture. You won't get better if you don't do it a lot; and if you do it a lot, you can expect to get frustrated.

So, go get frustrated.

Launching the Ordinary Life Is Beautiful Series, Life Is a Gift features 30 short, upbeat essays by Carolyn Henderson, manager of Steve Henderson Fine Art. Steve's paintings illustrate each story. For $2.99, it makes a great gift for yourself and all of the special people in your life.

The link will take you to Amazon Books, where you  may read the first few chapters of the book for free. Compatible on Kindle, IPad, and IPod. If you do not have any of these devices, you may download an app through Amazon to view the book on your computer.

Given what we’ve discussed in the last two articles, The Question That Never Goes Away and Another Question That Never Goes Away   – you probably have a pretty good idea of what the answer to this one will be, but let’s talk about it.

For some reason, people have the idea that if an individual does something part-time, or if he doesn't make a killing on doing it, then he's not really whatever it is that he's doing. By this definition, the volunteer firefighters in many rural communities who put their lives on the line protecting people and property aren’t really firefighters.

Or substitute teachers – what would school systems do without these people? – aren’t really teachers.

Our nuclear physicist – who works part-time because of family obligations – isn’t a real nuclear physicist.

Bit absurd, isn’t it?

But it’s understandable, since an artist doesn’t depend upon a degree, certification, title, or job description to be an artist. He can have those things, or not; and having them doesn’t ensure that he is an artist.

Artists make art.

They don’t talk about making art; they don’t emote about making art; they don’t wax eloquent about making art – people who do that, and stop there, are artistes not artists.

True artists do spend a lot of time creating – the Norwegian Artist paints, others sculpt, work with wood, brass, clay, and beyond the visual arts we have dancers, writers, actors, if I miss one please don’t yell at me, but what they have in common is that they create new things from whatever materials they have on hand, and they’re pretty serious about doing it well and consistently.

A number of these people, who have day jobs on the side, actually do work full time at being artists -- in addition to working full or part-time elsewhere. The goal of many is to drop that day job and exchange it for full time in the studio, and many of them manage this, but those who don't, or those who are in the process of getting there, are by no means not artists. It's time invested, not money made, that is a stronger determination of a person's commitment to being an artist.

“Am I a Real Artist?”

This question is slightly different from last week’s question, in which nuclear physicists and non-nuclear physicists ask if they are artists – the edition of the word “real” adds new dimension, along the lines of the Velveteen Rabbit.

Have you read that children’s story by Margery Williams? It’s a great one – a sawdust-stuffed rabbit toy is literally loved to pieces by his little boy owner, but agonizes because he’s not really real – he’s just a stuffed toy, until one day, after the family has thrown him out because he was contaminated during the little boy’s bout with scarlet fever, the Nursery Magic Fairy turns him into a real bunny – one with workable legs andwarm skin and the ability to breathe.

So what is it going to take to turn you into a real artist?

Will it be selling a piece of your art for a certain price, or just selling a piece, period, to someone other than a friend or relative?

Will it be being accepted into a gallery in Scottsdale, AZ or Savannah, GA?

How about winning a prize at a major exhibition, or being accepted into an exhibition in the first place?

You know what it took for the Velveteen Rabbit? Being loved enough, and manhandled enough, and played with enough, and needed and wanted enough to be real. Actually, even when he was still filled with sawdust and didn’t look like a real bunny, he was – deep inside, where it matters.

If you love your art, manhandle your paint brush, play with color, and need and want to create and get better and deeper than what you create – then you, my friend, are a real artist.

Whether or not there’s still sawdust spilling out of you.

“Am I an Artist?”

I can’t help but wonder how many nuclear physicists get up out of bed each morning and ask themselves whether they are nuclear physicists.

Granted, if one is a nuclear physicist, one has concrete evidence of the fact – education, background, job title, and hours of working each day with whatever it is that nuclear physicists work with – but an artist has a few concrete pieces of evidence as well:

Paint; canvas; brushes; paper; pencils; clay; some sort of easel, palette, or workspace – all of which are jumbled together somehow to create a painting, sculpture, piece of jewelry, or some other product that others look at and call “art.”

So it would only make sense to call the person who made it an “artist.”

Ah, but nothing in life is simple, and many people – some of whom are nuclear physicists – work at a day job and do art on the side, in the evenings, on the weekends, in place of eating lunch – and while what they produce looks like a painting or a sculpture or a piece of jewelry, they torture themselves by asking all the time,

“Am I an artist?”

“Am I a real artist?”

Some people ask themselves this so much that they stop producing whatever artwork they have been producing, until they can get an answer to the question.

But to some extent, does it really matter?

And whose definition of “artist” are you using anyway?

This is what I recommend: go ahead, keep asking yourself the question if you insist, but don’t stop creating whatever it is that you create, and don’t let the question fill your mind and crowd out ideas for your next piece of work.

Your next piece of Art work, that is.

No one wants to be a failure, in their own eyes or that of others. For this reason, there is a preponderance of books, DVDs, and other teaching matter designed to teach us -- be we artists, knitters, marathon runners, short order cooks, or gardeners -- the secrets to successfully doing anything we have an interest in doing.

Do you want to know the sure-fire methods to paint the perfect portrait? There's a DVD for that.

How about marketing your work and getting into  any show you try for? There's a book for that.

The fail-safe way of communicating with with any human being and  getting them to do whatever it is you want them to do?  DVD and book.

If there's something that you want to learn how to do, not only is there a corresponding workshop, seminar, video product, book, class, or teacher, but too many of these resources promise to impart secrets that you didn't know existed, and you obviously don't have.

It reminds me  of the vitamin ads. Or the "You, Too, Can Be a Millionaire Using my Unique Techniques" books. The problem does not lie in the actual  imparting of information -- after all, that's why we buy books and attend workshops and watch DVDs -- because we want to learn, and these resources, hopefully, have the information we need to do so.

The problem lies in a promise that is more than anyone can deliver:  the secret to success.

Seriously, if there were such a thing, how long do you think that it could be kept a secret?

And yet, we keep chasing after it, convinced that we alone are out of the loop, that we're poor because we don't follow techniques 1 through 6, that if we're savvy enough to find the right resource then we'll join the ranks of the elite.

Logic tells us, however, that if we're going to run a triathlon and finish it, much less place anywhere, then we're looking at months of disciplined training: working out, day after day, even when we don't feel like it; eating right, to the point of saying no to cheesecake; running in the wind, bicycling uphill, swimming when it's cold -- continuously keeping at it and incrementally improving.

If there's any secret to success, that's it.

When I want to watch the Norwegian Artist cringe, I hum the 1974 Morris Albert song, "Feelings," which, if you haven't heard it, goes something like this:

"Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings. Wo-wo-wo feeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings. Wo-wo-wo feeeeel you .  . . again . . . in my arms."

Believe me, once you've heard it, you never feel the same about feelings again.

Feelings are funny things, and if you are over the age of two, you've probably internalized the advice that you shouldn't make decisions based upon them. While this is good advice, it doesn't take into account that there are two wildly divergent meanings for feelings, and too often,we confuse the two:

Feelings, definition one: our emotions. Artists are familiar with this definition, not only because societal wisdom asserts that they are a tangled mass of uncontrolled emotional angst, but also because they do seek -- through their skill, discipline, and thought, to imbue both raw and controlled emotion into their work.

Feelings, definition two: our visceral gut reaction -- call it instinct -- based upon the compendium of our background, experience, analytical ability, and intelligence.

Definition two, which is not what Morris was crooning about, is the one we want to pay more attention to, but frequently do not, because we confuse it with definition one.

Think of it, how many times have you found yourself in a situation and thought, "Something about this doesn't feel right"?

And your next thought is probably, "But I shouldn't make decisions based upon my emotions."

Let's add a third thought: You're not making a decision based upon your emotions. You're making a decision upon that visceral internal voice -- the one that subconsciously collects information from your past and your present and gives you distinctive, sometimes urgent, advice about what you're planning to do with your future.

There is nothing wrong, and quite a bit right, about listening to this inner voice. It will guide you in everything from the next subject matter of your painting to whether or not you really want to sign that contract with the art museum, and one of the worst things that we can do is ignore it because we're afraid that we are being led forward by our ever-changing emotions as opposed to the extreme inner sanctum of our intellectual voice.

We need both kinds of feelings, in our control, to move forward as artists and artist businesspeople.

Some artists make a big deal out of being self taught, but truth of the matter is, all artists are self taught.

The difference between the two is encapsulated in two questions:

Are you learning only from yourself, just from what you can dredge up from “the artist within”?

Or are you learning from other people – teachers, writers, other artists both dead and alive -- magazine resources, workshops, books, the successes of others, the mistakes of others, comments and critiques – basically external sources that you read, analyze, review, try out, and experiment with, internalizing what works and shaping it into that “artist within”?

While art is a talent, it does not grow by itself in a vacuum, and for an artist to reach his or her potential, he needs a grasp of the basics, a grounding in fundamentals, and training.

This makes total sense when we’re talking about an engineer or a mathematician, but for some reason, when we talk art, our right brain supersedes the left to the point that instruction gives way to feelings, skill to emotion, proficiency to passion.

One of the key ways of recognizing whether you need work in an area is to determine if you are compensating for your lack of training in it. Ask yourself:

Do I draw noses this way because I want to, or because I don’t know any other way of doing it?

If the answer is the latter, bring your skill level up so that you can draw a nose the way you want it to look.

Passion, emotion, and feelings – yes these are important. But they are not enough without proficiency, skill, and instruction, and the best artists – who are self-motivated, self-disciplined, and truly self-taught, incorporate all six elements, seamlessly, into their work and their being.

I work with knitters, and a student recently told me,

“I don’t like the way my stuff turns out.”

When I asked her what kind of yarn she used, she replied,

“Oh, I just picked up something cheap. I didn’t want to spend money on something that probably wasn’t going to work out.”

Bad idea.

Whether you’re knitting or painting, you’ll get the best results when you use the best materials.

While a novice, or even an intermediate, does not need the most expensive items in the store (interestingly, many professionals do not shop at the tippy top themselves), they also don’t want the two-quart tubes of student grade paint and cheap, cheap brushes, all slathered onto loosely woven, won’t-stay-stretched, canvas.

If the colors are weak and the brushes imprecise, the results will be disappointing.

The Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson, discovered the major difference between student and professional grade art supplies in one of his early quarters of teaching, when he recommended a starter watercolor kit to his students while he used the materials from his own studio for his demonstrations.

“I know I’m a beginner,” one student said, “but even though I’m following you step by step, nothing I do looks at all like what you’re doing.”

Steve picked up her brush, dabbed it in her paint, and swept it across his canvas.

“Nothing I do looks like what I’m doing with this paint either,” he said.

From that point on, he recommended his own paint choices and brushes to his students, limiting the colors and brush choices to decrease the cost.

Yes, it costs more. No, you don’t have to overhaul your entire studio at once.

But bit by bit, buy up.



I deliberately entitled this post using a word that I have eliminated from my vocabulary: Should.

Too often we do things not because they are right for our particular situation, or because we are grown ups and can use the words “want to” without sounding like recalcitrant toddlers, but because we have this vague idea that others – who know more than we do – expect certain behavior.

Workshops are great little animals; my own Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson, regularly teaches them, and his students, depending upon why they are there and how they approach the opportunity, move forward in widely divergent fashions.

Some people are serial workshop takers, collecting the names of their numerous instructors like knitters stash yarn. Others are there for the first time, glancing covertly at everyone else’s brushes and paint tubes and specialized plastic art boxes and convincing themselves that they are the only ones there who know absolutely nothing.

The best students, and the ones who leave most satisfied, are confident enough in themselves to realize that everyone does things differently, but humble enough to recognize that there is much good in trying something new. These students are here, not because they feel they ought to be, but because they want to be – they listen with an open mind, ask pointed questions, absorb the answers given to not only their own questions, but to the questions of others, and use the limited workshop time to its full advantage.

They’re taking the workshop because they like the instructor’s work and want to hear more about how he/she accomplishes it.

Should you take a workshop?

Misleading question.

Do you want to?

A friend mentioned to me that someone challenged her to read, within one year, a particularly long and demanding book.

“I didn’t really want to do it,” she confessed. “But the man challenging me is knowledgeable and he was insistent, so I did.”

My first thought was, “Why?” which goes to show why I don’t play well in groups, followed by, “That’s as reasonable as children accepting a dare – to lick the dog’s nose, say – simply because someone confronted them and told them to do so.”

Within art circles, people challenge themselves to do all sorts of odd things – like paint the same tree, every day for three months -- simply because someone who wrote a book did so and instructed readers to do the same.

Why?

I mean, do you really want to paint the same tree, 90 days in succession? With the limited time that you have to pursue painting, is this what you want to do?

If the answer is no with the caveat, “But he’s knowledgeable and he’s insistent that this is how I will grow as an artist,” then reconsider licking the dog’s nose.

The idea of regularly painting over the course of 90 days, so that you can get gently ensconce yourself into the habit of doing so, isn’t such a bad one, and maybe that is one of the things the author is trying to teach. But you can accomplish this by announcing to your people in the room, “For the next 90 days, I will be in the studio from 6 to 8 p.m., painting.”

And then go paint. What you want. How you want. One work every day, or seven days for one work. The very act of doing it regularly (it’s okay to miss a day; don’t get weird) will propel you to the next level, on your terms.

Dare you.

When the Norwegian Artist studied art at the university, his professors urged him and all the rest of the students to "find your style, find your subject matter, and stick with that one thing. You need to be known for a certain size of work, a specific color palette, and one kind of subject matter."

When you're 23 and your professors are in their 50s, it doesn't occur to you to ask back,

"But you don't actually show or sell your work yourself. What makes you think that this way of thinking works?"

When Steve became an illustrator, in order to put food on the family table, he quickly discovered that the ability to create wildly divergent subject matter in multiple color palettes embracing a spectrum of styles was not only an advantage to him as an artist -- a great learning curve for increasing your skills -- but also a requirement of the job. Twenty years of this enabled him to do a lot of experimentation and move forward in his understanding of various media and style.

As a fine artist, he enjoys painting representationalism with an impressionistic flair, but he does not insist that every painting be approached, or handled the same way: only thick paint, or only glazing, or only deep shadows, or only strong contrast -- the subject matter, the size of the work, the mood of the piece dictate the other elements involved in bringing the scene that his artist's eyes see to completion on canvas.

"Artists artificially limit themselves by this outdated -- and probably never valid -- notion that they must be 'known' for a specific style or subject matter," Steve says. "They're not selling flash drives. And come to think of it, even flash drives are coming out in different forms -- I saw one shaped like a bird that looked like a toy that a child would get in a fast food meal."

In the back of his mind, Steve has a half-dozen paintings ready to paint when he finishes the one he is presently painting, and the queue includes figurative, seascape, landscape, still life, with the final result being one of these, or none at all but something completely different, the choice being made, basically, by what he feels like doing.

"If an artist does not feel free to experiment," Steve says, "how will he ever grow? How will he ever discover a technique that brings about an effect he has been searching for? Artists are humans, not machines, and the very nature of humans is that we explore, dare, push limits, and create."

One time, when the Norwegian Artist was teaching a beginning watercolor workshop, one of the students looked about and said, "I must be the only true beginner in here. Look at everyone else -- they all have so many paintbrushes and so much paint!"

It's interesting the different conclusions we come to based upon the same observations.

When the Norwegian Artist -- who has one, very expensive watercolor brush that he uses pretty much exclusively -- sees brand new plastic carriers filled with a plethora of lightly used paint tubes and a bouquet of brushes and other tools, he thinks,

"I wonder how much they actually paint versus the time they spend organizing and arranging their materials?"

More than one of the Norwegian Artist's students, and frequently a number of them in the same class, approach him privately and apologize for being the only true beginner in the class, and his response is a variation on the theme:

"It doesn't matter where you're starting from, it matters that you're going someplace."

And interestingly, many of the people who are self-conscious about being the only beginner, once they drop the fear of that (whether or not it is true) wind up learning a tremendous amount and progressing far on their journey as artists, simply because they know that they have much to learn and they're willing to set about doing so.

Because we're all human, we all have our moments of insecurity, but looking around and comparing our situation (which we know quite well) to our impression of other people's situation (about which we know very little) unnecessarily compounds the problem, and indeed, can actually block us from our goal of progressing beyond the present.

Workshops and classes are great opportunities to learn, and if you find one that fits your needs and learning style, go for it with enthusiasm and abandon, unhindered by comparison with the other students in the room. After all, when you're looking about, you're not looking ahead.

We know some artists who rarely paint because, deep down, they are afraid that they will run out of ideas. So they find any reason, any reason at all, to do anything but paint -- clean the garage, renovate the upstairs bathroom, shampoo the dog.

"I am waiting for the Muse to inspire me," they say.

One wonders perhaps if the Muse is getting bored for lack of anything to do. Oddly enough, the more we do something, the less we have to think about what we'll do next; it is when we are in the midst of working on a series of projects that more ideas come to our mind, not when we're cleaning out the garage (think of it -- as you're stacking and labeling the boxes, isn't your next thought along the lines of, "Better get the lawn mower winterized, and after that, the kitchen faucet's been dripping," as opposed to, "Boxes . . . that angular shape reminds me of granite rocks tumbling over the surface of a hillside. I must paint!")

Some of those who do manage to get out of the garage and paint find themselves dabbing at the same work for weeks at a time, in ten-minute increments now and then -- Dab dab. Dab. Dab dab dab. The blues mix with the greens and bleed into the reds until everything looks brown.

When the Norwegian Artist was in college, professors and fellow students alike put down the concept of "prostituting themselves" as artists by working at a 40-hour-a-week job as an illustrator or a graphic artist -- "This isn't pure art," they asserted -- and yet Steve has found that his 20 years in the business world, as both a professional illustrator and a graphic artist -- have trained him to be a better fine artist:

"Art directors don't want to hear that the assignment isn't ready because the Muse wasn't with me," he said. Day after day, year after year, he trained himself to work on good days and bad,  putting forth top effort into every piece, until his default became not waiting for the Muse, but starting the project without her.