I have taught over three thousands artists over the past 25 years and was recently stumped by a question that quite frankly I didn’t know how to answer.
“How did you get discovered?” the artist student inquisitively asked.
I stumbled around for an answer, not knowing what to say, except that I entered some competitions that led to a book signing contract and opened up the doors for national exposure. But I was sidestepping the question and I realized later that I needed a little more thought here.
First, there is an implication in her question: that one needs to be “discovered”, or that raw talent lies latently until a patron, gallery, magazine, or the like elevates the artist to a level of fame beyond their dreams. This scenario makes for poor novels and can occupy countless hours of dream-filled moments, but not much more than that. Of course the media loves these types of stories, only to exacerbate our contemplation of “could it happen to me?”
Forget it, it’s not real life.
In the second place, I am not sure that I was ever “discovered”, or what that really means. I am not sure I even know what it feels like. Is being discovered measured by a level of success, and is that success measured monetarily or in notoriety? Or is it that this is my business and it has supported my family? I am confused.
I would have to say, however, that there are some basic, fundamental principles that have allowed me to pursue watercolor painting as a career.
Early on, as I was contemplating a change from the corporate world to the art world, I had enough sense to recognize that painting is probably a discipline like everything else, and not “anything goes”. I appreciated the discipline the students exhibited at the American Academy of Art in Chicago, and desired to learn it. With the encouragement of my wonderful wife, we ventured on a new journey.
At the Academy, that discipline was defined by the foundations of drawing and design. These are fundamentals that have stood the test of time and need to be honored. They work and need to be studied and applied. Personal interpretation comes later.
Secondly, I needed time. None of this came quickly. I sometimes think the longest distance in the world is from the head to the hand. The fundamentals of good painting are easy to see and intellectualize, but can be so difficult to get out of the hand. The setting aside of large blocks of time allowed me to learn the fundamentals not only on a practical level, but also on a visceral one. It takes much time for the knowledge to become second nature.
Thirdly, I loved it. This is what I was made for. The passion got me through the times of despair, which can be frequent when dealing with failed paintings. I loved the feel and intellectual process of painting and found it can be as demanding as simplifying mathematical formulas. Plus the paintings were a lot prettier! (My background was in engineering before going to art school).
Probably one of the more difficult disciplines in this whole process was to allow development of my own personal interpretation. Emulating the likes of Sargent, I contrarily found myself going in another direction, a direction that was uncharted in my thinking. My loose style that was developing had no predecessor in my mind and there was certainly some uneasiness and a great deal of insecurity that accompanied the decision to move forward in this direction. I was in a bind: I felt compelled to move forward or else wither and meet the expectations I (and others) had placed upon myself. This brings me to the last point, and the most important one: I decided to trust God in the direction that my paintings would take.
Through my Christian walk, I deeply felt that painting was what God designed me to do. This was very difficult as I am quite a practical person, and making a living at this…….well you won’t find a whole lot of encouragement or examples.
Yet this fundamental belief in that this was what I was supposed to do, kept the boat steady and a set a foundation of strength from which I drew (pun intended).
So as we start my 25th year as professional artist, this is my answer to how I was “discovered”.
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The Journey as a Watercolor Artist
I have taught over three thousands artists over the past 25 years and was recently stumped by a question that quite frankly I didn’t know how to answer.
“How did you get discovered?” the artist student inquisitively asked.
I stumbled around for an answer, not knowing what to say, except that I entered some competitions that led to a book signing contract and opened up the doors for national exposure. But I was sidestepping the question and I realized later that I needed a little more thought here.
First, there is an implication in her question: that one needs to be “discovered”, or that raw talent lies latently until a patron, gallery, magazine, or the like elevates the artist to a level of fame beyond their dreams. This scenario makes for poor novels and can occupy countless hours of dream-filled moments, but not much more than that. Of course the media loves these types of stories, only to exacerbate our contemplation of “could it happen to me?”
Forget it, it’s not real life.
In the second place, I am not sure that I was ever “discovered”, or what that really means. I am not sure I even know what it feels like. Is being discovered measured by a level of success, and is that success measured monetarily or in notoriety? Or is it that this is my business and it has supported my family? I am confused.
I would have to say, however, that there are some basic, fundamental principles that have allowed me to pursue watercolor painting as a career.
Early on, as I was contemplating a change from the corporate world to the art world, I had enough sense to recognize that painting is probably a discipline like everything else, and not “anything goes”. I appreciated the discipline the students exhibited at the American Academy of Art in Chicago, and desired to learn it. With the encouragement of my wonderful wife, we ventured on a new journey.
At the Academy, that discipline was defined by the foundations of drawing and design. These are fundamentals that have stood the test of time and need to be honored. They work and need to be studied and applied. Personal interpretation comes later.
Secondly, I needed time. None of this came quickly. I sometimes think the longest distance in the world is from the head to the hand. The fundamentals of good painting are easy to see and intellectualize, but can be so difficult to get out of the hand. The setting aside of large blocks of time allowed me to learn the fundamentals not only on a practical level, but also on a visceral one. It takes much time for the knowledge to become second nature.
Thirdly, I loved it. This is what I was made for. The passion got me through the times of despair, which can be frequent when dealing with failed paintings. I loved the feel and intellectual process of painting and found it can be as demanding as simplifying mathematical formulas. Plus the paintings were a lot prettier! (My background was in engineering before going to art school).
Probably one of the more difficult disciplines in this whole process was to allow development of my own personal interpretation. Emulating the likes of Sargent, I contrarily found myself going in another direction, a direction that was uncharted in my thinking. My loose style that was developing had no predecessor in my mind and there was certainly some uneasiness and a great deal of insecurity that accompanied the decision to move forward in this direction. I was in a bind: I felt compelled to move forward or else wither and meet the expectations I (and others) had placed upon myself. This brings me to the last point, and the most important one: I decided to trust God in the direction that my paintings would take.
Through my Christian walk, I deeply felt that painting was what God designed me to do. This was very difficult as I am quite a practical person, and making a living at this…….well you won’t find a whole lot of encouragement or examples.
Yet this fundamental belief in that this was what I was supposed to do, kept the boat steady and a set a foundation of strength from which I drew (pun intended).
So as we start my 25th year as professional artist, this is my answer to how I was “discovered”.