The ART of THICK PAINT

31. The Philosophy of art

THE ART ADVENTURE

After High School my friend Joe Hebert and I left our hometown in Kansas and traveled to the foothills of Moscow Mountain in Northern Idaho where we built a log cabin. A nearby farmer let us salvage lumber from an abandoned barn which we used to build the floor, roof, as well as the door and furniture. It was an interesting project and the resulting no-rent arrangement allowed me to live frugally so I could pursue art full-time.

Toward the end of my one year stay in the cabin I enrolled at the University of Idaho and began my formal study of art. I took drawing classes and started learning the rudiments of oil painting.

An early influence was the work of Rockwell Kent whose work I discovered in the local library. I was fascinated by what I assumed was woodcut, although Kent worked primarily in pen and ink making the occasional wood engraving. But his strong composition and stark contrast deeply impressed me. Above all I was fascinated by Kent's adventurous life. Later I would purchase a printing press and begin my own adventure illustrating in New York City.

The artist's life seemed infused with vibrant potential. I look back with nostalgia on that era. There were many things I didn't know about an art career–that there are many factors outside an artist's control, that the economy can create seemingly insurmountable obstacles, that the tastes and fashions of the art world can present frustrating challenges.

Strangely, it was a recent trip over the Sierra Nevada to San Francisco and down the San Joaquin Valley that sparked my introspection and rumination on my artistic roots. As I passed through a region of lush green foothills sprinkled with majestic outcroppings of rock I remembered an earlier phase where I painted large acrylic paintings on stretched watercolor paper mounted on plywood. My favorite motifs were rocks covered with moss and lichens.

I recalled other periods where I sculpted, painted in watercolor, created science-fiction book covers, illustrated children's books, wrote and drew alternative comic books, animated television shows, and of course, painted landscapes with strokes of thick oil paint. I undertook all these projects with a sense of adventure. That sense of adventure is perhaps what I like most about the artistic life.

THE SLOW PAINTING MOVEMENT

The current plein air movement has been good for painters and landscape painting. It has sparked a renaissance in the art of observation and a return to artistic fundamentals. It inspired a magazine which is currently my favorite painting journal. It helped refocus landscape painter's attention back to the source of its inspiration. I have benefited artistically by painting in the field and financially from invitations to various art festivals. I commend these festivals for substantially enlarging the number of landscape collectors in America. I plan to continue painting en plein air as well as attending plein air festivals.

However an unintended consequence of the resurgence of plein air painting has been an emphasis, perhaps an overemphasis, on painting as a virtuoso performance for the benefit of spectators. At such events the most prized paintings are often the paintings done the quickest. I don't criticize these events. They're a lot of fun. But the trick is to compartmentalize this mental state and relegate it to the proper moment. And the proper moment for a virtuoso performance is not when you're in the studio struggling to express your inner vision.

Recently I've noticed that the mental state I have while performing at plein air events has invaded my studio painting. While painting in the studio I not only habitually intend that each painting be a virtuoso performance, but often that each brush stroke be one as well. The pressure became so great I needed an escape. So I have switched, perhaps for just a season, to a completely different medium. The medium I chanced on is encaustic. There is a roughhewn quality with encaustic reminiscent of the art of woodcut, accompanied by the mental state I associate with sculpting. Encaustic is a medium that can't be hurried. It is also a medium that doesn't need to hurry. The drying time is indefinite and I can reactivate the painting surface simply by reheating it.