The Quiet One

     

     Ben Kimble is a good and humble man.  I could stop right there with this perfect, succinct summation of my friend and superb cowboy.  Ben is a longtime permanent fixture in northern Arizona, and Beano, as he is known in the cowboy circle, is the quiet type.

     He is solid and gets his work done with the competence of a top hand.  Beano has worked on most of the big ranches in Arizona, including the Diamond As, O RO, 7-Up, and the Old C.V.  Beano has grabbed hold of all the cowboy life has to offer and carries the traditions of the working cowboy right there on his sleeve for all to see.  And he makes no apologies for it.

     My favorite recollection of Beano is the special care he doted on the older cowhands at a branding several years ago.  His respect for those who have gone before him; those who refuse to give up the lifestyle they love, was most admirable.

Arizona Fast Loop

     Beano has a strong connection to the men and country of northern Arizona.  The long highway keeps our friendship at bay, but we only need one handshake to pick up where our relationship was cut short.  I realized that I have been painting him for nearly 10 years now, and nothing has changed.  The saddle leather and trappings come and go, but the man remains steady and true.     

Lessons From A Fighter Pilot

     During my high school years I shot skeet competitively, and I had a coach who clarified something for me, and this piece of advice has stuck firmly to this day.  His name was Art Sideras and he was an Air Force Colonel, fighter pilot, competitive shooter, as well as first-class mentor.

     He has passed away, but not before (like most good men) leaving a positive mark on the world that continues to bear good fruit.   My youthful problem originated on Station 2 High House, also known as High 2 in “Skeet Speak”.  This particular station had never really given me a problem, but after losing a 4-H match in Dallas by one target, I had let the shot into my head.  Art saw me struggling with the target and came over with his low key and patient manner to help me with my problem. 

     “Mark, you’re taking yourself out of the moment.  Don’t recruit your brain to the wrong thing.”  He reminded me of a shooter we both knew who was constantly throwing temper tantrums when he missed targets.  He explained to me that top shooters don’t do this.  When a top shooter misses, he goes on without incident; no whining, no verbal excuses, and no tantrums.  He doesn’t take himself out of the moment.

     As a former fighter pilot, he explained that in a dogfight, if you take yourself out of the moment, it would get you killed.  He pointed out that I was recruiting much of my brainpower to worry about the shot, or how it could affect my score, instead of directing that power to making the shot. 

     Earlier this week I was doing much the same thing with one of my paintings.  I had let an unresolved issue get in my head and shut me down.  The white noise of the studio was getting in my head and made it hard for me to even start the painting.  What if I mess up this $10 sheet of paper?……what if I waste three days on this, and it doesn’t work?......what if, what if…..

     Painting is much like competitive shooting.  A series of mental exercises combined with fine motor skills.  Painting watercolors demands that you be in the moment. 

     Watercolor, unlike oil painting, suffers no haphazard fools.  Any mistake you make can’t be covered over, and excuses or whining will only impact your efforts in a negative manner.

     We all have our artistic Station 2 High Houses to deal with.  It will eventually come, but make your studio a haven, clear your mind of all the white noise, and get in the moment.  You all have great watercolors in you----so get started!

The Strength of MOLON LABE

     “MOLON LABE!” – These are the words spoken vociferously by the Spartan leader Leonidas to the Persian invaders and their leader, Xerxes.  Now, Xerxes had asked Leonidas, quite politely as a matter of fact, to surrender his weapons at Thermopylae. 

     The defiant Spartan king, with the moxie to back it up, made his position quite clear.  “Come and Take Them!”  Xerxes eventually made Leonidas eat his words, but not before the 300 Spartans exemplified what it meant to be Spartan. 

     The Greek historian, Herodotus, guessed the number of Persians at 2,000,000, while most scholars today put it at 300,000.  Somewhere between 20-25,000 Persians were run through by Leonidas and his men.

     Just this last week, I read that the Spartans were one of the few cultures that refused to build a wall around their city.  Quite frankly, they just didn’t need it.  Their reputation and training preceded them, and that dedication and pursuit of perfection made invaders really weigh the consequences of their actions.

     While this same dedication can be tied to your training as an artist, it can also serve in any aspect of life.  This is where I go back to my old fallback position, exemplified best in The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield:

A Professional is Prepared.  “I’m not talking about craft; that goes without saying.  The professional is prepared at a deeper level.  He is prepared, each day, to confront his own self-sabotage.

     The professional understands that Resistance is fertile and ingenious.  It will throw stuff at him that he’s never seen before.

     The professional prepares mentally to absorb blows and to deliver them.  His aim is to take what the day gives him.  He is prepared to be prudent and prepared to be reckless, to take a beating when he has to, and to go for the throat when he can.  He understands that the field alters every day.  His goal is not victory (success will come by itself when it wants to) but to handle himself, his insides, as sturdily and steadily as he can.

A Professional Dedicates Himself To Mastering Technique.  The professional respects his craft.  He does not consider himself superior to it.  He recognizes the contributions of those who have gone before him.  He apprentices himself to them.

     The professional dedicates himself to mastering technique not because he believes technique is a substitute for inspiration but because he wants to be in possession of the full arsenal of skills when inspiration does come.  The professional is sly.  He knows that by toiling beside the front door of technique, he leaves room for genius to enter by the back.

     Whether it’s art, or life, or shooting, or cooking, or any other endeavor, we can learn from the Spartans.  Being Prepared and Mastering Technique are the roots of success.  Add Persistence to these two and you’re bordering on unstoppable.

     

TEOTWAWKI, Art and the Zombie Apocalypse

     Hang on to your hats for this post!  My imagination went wild on this one!

     Did you know that last week the Center for Disease Control (CDC) actually gave us, the brain-dead public, a written primer on how to prepare for an invasion of brain-eating undead, commonly known as Zombies?  I find it rather ironic that they talk to us like we’re Zombies, hanging on to their every word, about the threat of real Zombies.  Can you believe it?

     Look, you may not have as good a seat on “the crazy train” as I do, and have no idea what TEOTWAWKI really is.  Well, fire up that Google search because this post is way beyond Survival 101!

     So, after the CDC article, I’m thinking to myself, “How does this affect my art career?”  Don’t worry; I’ve done the heavy lifting here.  Preparation is my middle name.  I actually quit Cub Scouts in the Third Grade because my lefty-leaning, patchouli-stenched instructor, Ms. Pillsbury informed me we wouldn’t be learning to start fires with a bow drill, or any other form of bushcraft.  So, adios Ms. P and good luck with your bake sale.  (And I want to know, where were the male role models for this impressionable group of 8-year olds?  But that’s another lament for another time.)

     So, flash forward to the present, and the alarming warning from the CDC regarding the aforementioned Zombies.  If I want to paint a plein air landscape, I must not only consider my palette choice, brushes and easel, but must now contemplate what type of firepower I might need during my painting experience.

     No artist wants to fend off a poorly dressed member of the Undead, who is wearing a Frankie Goes To Hollywood RELAX T-shirt (slightly blood-tinged) using only a tube of Van Dyke Brown and the sharp end of a Kolinsky Sable Winsor Newton Series 7 brush.

     Keeping with the Zombie theme, let’s break this down into small, edible chunks of logic (Sorry about that!).  Here’s the heart of the matter:  The problem with defending yourself against Zombies is that they are only firing on one neuron and it’s in their head, so you have an impossibly small target.  Logical thinking leads us to this conclusion:  Big bullets release more kinetic energy on pea brains.

     So, here’s my advice to you:  If possible, consider the 9 mm as a minimum weapon of defense, with the .45 ACP as an even better choice, or my personal favorite….the Remington Model 870 pump shotgun.

     I proudly consider myself a member of what Michael Bane calls Gun Culture 1.0, and as such, would never consider a day of painting without a large caliber weapon within reach for defending myself against Zombies or other undesirable elements.  I’m capable of sending copious amounts of hot lead down-range faster than you can say “Arches 140 cold press and Ultramarine Blue”. 

     In a couple of weeks I am teaching a workshop here in my studio to a good friend whom I will call Calamity Deb.  As host of this event, I feel a sense of responsibility to provide a safe workshop environment for my wide-eyed students.  However, I happen to know that Calamity Deb has a rather good seat on the crazy train, herself, and is known to be quite capable of sending her own hot lead down range.

     So with Pam providing eyes and ears, and back up with her new 9 mm Gen 4 Glock, Calamity Deb and I will be able to venture down the art path safely and unimpeded.  And I am providing fair warning to any of the Undead who dare to limp, glassy-eyed into our Day of Art.  OK, girls, let ‘em have it!

  

Don't Drop The Roast!

         I was 18 when it started.  It came like a thief in the night, and then proceeded like a runaway freight train.  I knew I’d been dealt a bad card.  The same arrow nicked both grandfathers and my Dad.  I didn’t stand a chance! 

     Resignation makes the bitterness of the pill a bit easier to swallow, but for young men it’s the bane of existence.  How could I be born in August and branded a Leo?  A Leo is identified with Pride, Power and a Full Mane!  And yet by the time Pam and I married, I was in full folic freefall at the young age of 23. 

     I knew then, that there was only one way to play it.  No mullets, no comb-overs.  The guys who desperately hang on, look ridiculously pitiful.  It’s better to stand deliver, take your lumps and attach the No. 1 guard to the Wahl trimmer.  At least with the buzz cut, you stand on common ground with soldiers, athletes and the like.

     Now, all these many years later, I have no complaints but one.  For it seems that my uncovered bean catches more than its share of punishment.  I’m not sure if hair is a great impact deterrent, but I don’t remember having this many cuts, abrasions, lumps, hematomas or gouges.

     Four years ago in Sabinal, I walked headlong into a brace for the garage door.  It knocked me out, but I came to upon impacting the ground.  My art trailer has an aluminum trim with a sharp corner that catches me at least twice a year.  My framing saw is living in a shed that predates our move to this property.  It was built for midgets at the turn of the century, and it has taken its toll on me over the last three years we’ve lived here.

     This week has been especially noteworthy.  First, while caulking an outside seam on my studio (in preparation for painting the exterior), I was indiscriminately attacked by yellow jackets while standing on a ladder.  Somehow they know to proceed in full assault when you’ve reached the highest point on any given ladder.

     I bailed off in an arm-swinging frenzy, only to fall between the metal braces for the deck I am also building.  Ouch!  And last night, I ambitiously cooked a chuck roast in my #10 Dutch oven.  While walking to the house with my head down (to avoid stepping into any hidden holes in the yard), I slammed full speed and head on into 11 inches of a Live Oak limb.  Tree wins again!  All I could think was, “I know I’m bleeding, but don’t drop the roast!”   

   

If You Don't Have Books, You Can't Stop The Hemorrhage

     I've spent the past week working on one single painting for the upcoming Buffalo Bill Museum Show in Cody, Wyoming.  When I stop and reflect on the process I pursued in completing this painting, I realize that the single most important aspect to its success were my art book references.  I know I've spoken of this before, but I can't stress enough how my library contributes to the success of ANY painting I present to the public.
     For the most part, I use these valuable references for two different reasons:  1)  Seeing how another artist handled a specific problem I am encountering, and  2)  Seeing how to simplify an element in my painting that is difficult or over-detailed.

     These are the books that I used to resolve a series of challenges that I encountered in the painting.  And you will find that every painting presents a unique and specific set of problems.  The process to resolve this is usually found in good drawing and referencing Master works.
     For early ateliers, copying Master works was part of the learning process.  I think the strength in this method was they were able to follow in the footsteps of a Master and see exactly how he mapped out the complex steps and translated it into brush strokes.
     I've found that things like foliage or repetitious patterns present chances to shine as competent painters.  Riding the fine line between too detailed and too impressionistic are where I run into trouble.  Once my point of interest is established, then the foreground and background must be appropriately incorporated into the painting, and compliment the subject.
     Painting, according to Richard Schmid, is nothing more than solving a series of problems to completion.    When there is nothing left to solve, you have neared the end of the painting process.
     For me, and most professional artists, my book collection isn't just for looks.  I would even venture to say that if you are a serious artist who refuses to purchase, study, and reference every art book you can find, then you may want to rethink your commitment to your craft.  If you don't know where to start, then drop me a line and I will give you a good starting point.  I'd love to share my inspiration with you!

P.S.  I will reveal this painting in September, prior to the opening of the show.  It will be worth waiting for, I promise!   

Rant 2.0: What the !#?*! Is an Aglet?

     

    AGLET:  a metal or plastic tube fixed tightly around each end of a shoelace.

     My niece, Kaylee, used this word in a conversation last Saturday evening.  I instantly called B.S. on it and now I’ll need copious amounts of salt and ketchup to get down the rather large piece of crow I must now swallow. 

     By my very nature, I immerse myself in studying those things that interest me, and I tend to study them with total commitment.  That would include Drawing, Painting, Shooting, and Dogs.  But never in my studies or travels have I stumbled across the word aglet. 

Kaylee

    (I think if I chase that chunk of crow with Strawberry Kool-aid, it might be a bit more palatable.)  The bitter truth is that my niece has inadvertently taught me a valuable lesson.  It’s something akin to that old adage, “Keep your mouth shut and let them wonder if you’re a moron, rather than opening it and confirming all doubts.”

     Now I know if I played Cranium or Balderdash or Twenty Questions, then I would have placed this pointless appellation into my hard drive for use on some witless idiot, much like myself.  But as it stands, I still can’t find a reason to clog my vocabulary with such drivel.  When would one use such a term unless you owned a freakin’ shoelace factory?  “I’d like to go to dinner with you, but I busted my aglet, so I’ll be sitting this one out.” ….. “Doc, I think my dog ate my homework, as well as my aglet!” …. “Does this aglet make my butt look big?”

     So where is this entire diatribe leading us?  While rummaging through my flat files last week, I found 3 Salinas Rodeo Posters that I designed in 2000.  (By the way, they happen to be sold out and are now collectable).  I will give away one of these posters to the reader who provides me with the best usage of the word aglet in a sentence.

     Also rest well knowing that all family members of the artist (including Kaylee) cannot win.  Uncle Mark gets in the final cheap shot!

     Good luck!