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Q. What do you like to draw and paint most?
I like to paint people. Humanity invariably provides the most intriguing subject matter for me. Next to that would be nature, landscapes, and anything organic. You don't see very many pure landscapes among my paintings because I have only recently taken a greater interest in the subject. Animals are extraordinarily interesting from a standpoint of color, pattern, form, and meaning, I haven't had much occasion to paint them, but I would like to. I think for me the most compelling kind of painting would involve any or all of these subjects inasmuch as they relate to the content and purpose of the artwork.
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Q. Do you use computers?
Yes. I have a Mac I use for lots of things like word processing, record keeping, finances, Internet research, email and other stuff. Most of the artwork you see in my portfolio or on my web site is created entirely with old-fashioned pencils and paint (the medium is noted next to each image). I scan and color-correct my artwork on the computer, and I use it to print samples for my portfolio. I prefer traditional media because there‘s something more immediate, intimate, and sensory about pencil on paper or brush on canvas. I like to end up with a tangible, original artifact instead of just a deletable digital file.
However, over the last year I have started to experiment with some digital painting. I use Corel Painter 6 and Photoshop with a Wacom Intuos tablet and stylus. These digital paintings are now on display in a new section of my web site.
There are benefits and drawbacks to painting digitally. The computer speeds up some parts of the process like mixing color. You also have the advantage of being able to zoom in or out from the image and make changes easily by copying and pasting to move elements around.
On the downside, a day spent in front of a computer screen makes my eyes tired. I feel like I have more control of a tradtional paintbrush, allowing me to make subtle, natural-looking shapes. By contrast, my digital work looks more "processed" because, well, it is. Also, when painting the traditional way, I never have to worry about my easel "crashing." But sometimes I wish I could just press a key and "undo" some of the mistakes I make. So it’s a trade-off.
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Q. Who buys your artwork?
Anyone with the need and the wherewithal. I receive commissions from private collectors, book publishers, newspapers, magazines, software companies, advertising and design firms, to name a few.
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Q. How long did that piece take you?
I’m comfortable with tight deadlines, and I can usually turn things around pretty fast. Depending on the nature of the project and how many other pieces I’m doing simultaneously, a single painting can take three days or three months. It’s hard to measure how much time I spend on any given piece because so much more is involved than just painting. I often spend more than half the time doing research, making preliminary sketches or color studies, and collecting or photographing reference material. I used to be a staff artist for a newspaper and I had to learn how to produce art quickly.
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Q. Do you use rulers, grids, projectors, or other tools for precise measurements?
In nearly all cases when I draw or paint, I measure proportions with my eyeballs and brain. I mentally compare what I’ve already drawn with the model (or photograph) I’m using for reference and make corrections as I see fit. Visual memory and interpretation are like brain "muscles" that get stronger with exercise. Sometimes, when drawing from a live model, I hold out a stick or a paintbrush to get a general idea of approximate proportions, angles, and lines.
When I was growing up, there were several times when I used a grid on a photo to get a drawing right. One time I even measured meticulously with a scale-ruler, but it took so long that I never finished the drawing. I think using precise measurements of any kind is a good way to learn to draw, the same way using blueprints and scaffoldings is a good way to work on a building. Some people project photographs with an opaque projector and then trace the photo onto their paper or canvas. I’ve done that a few times during my education, mainly because I thought it would save time. However, one of the problems with a projector is that if the projection angle isn’t exactly perpendicular, it can mess up your drawing worse than you might have done by yourself! Another problem is that you might come to rely on it too much and convince yourself that you're better than you really are. Some artists would panic if you took away their opaque projectors.
I haven’t used any precise measurement tools for a long time, other than a straight edge for drawing straight lines. None of the work on my site employed any of those ancillary techniques. However, if it works for you, I think it’s fine. But I personally find that relying on mechanisms or precise measurements somehow binds my aesthetic instincts and bottles up some measure of the thrill of drawing "from the hip." I rely on the spontaneity of the natural process, especially when drawing organic objects. Otherwise it's easy for things to start looking stiff and plastic. In my case, I could compare measuring tools to training wheels on a bicycle—it was helpful to use them while I was learning to draw and didn’t have the confidence to trust my eyes and brain. However, I think eventually it’s best if you draw without external aids when you feel ready because they can be restricting. Hopefully, at some point you discover you don’t really need those things and it’s exhilarating—kind of like when Dumbo realized he didn’t need the "magic feather" in order to fly because nature had given him those big ears and all he needed was a little confidence.
In certain circumstances, for example if someone commissioned me to paint a large mural, I think I would first do a small-scale, finished version of it on canvas. Then I would use a grid over my sketch and a grid on the actual mural to help me paint the larger piece on the wall. There’s no shame in that; I think it’s wise, especially because I’m not used to working that large, and it’s too big to risk a major mistake. But since I do most of my paintings on a more manageable scale, I just try to trust my drawing skills.
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Q. Have you always known what you want to do?
More or less. I studied various subjects and disciplines throughout the course of my education. I really enjoy things like literature, writing, science, math, history, music, and sports. When I was considering what my major in college should be, I asked myself if I could be satisfied to create art as a hobby and not do it all the time. I knew I wanted to try, but I had to be completely honest with myself concerning my ability and aptitude for success in this field. Everyone has different talents. I chose what I loved most from among the things I was best at.
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Q. Do you think artistic talent is inborn, or can it be learned?
Both, I think. If you're talking about the likelihood that a person will become a famous artist, go down in the history books as a "great master," or be thought of by future generations as a creative genius—that's anyone's guess, and I have no answer. But if we consider drawing skill as the dominant constituent of what we call "artistic talent"—that is, the ability to pictorially represent tangible objects convincingly or realistically, then I can talk about that a little bit.
I suspect we all have the "seed" of artistic talent (or any other talent for that matter) when we arrive in the world. But just like the seeds of plants, this talent may or may not grow, depending upon a variety of factors. Some talents flourish and grow more quickly than others, but if we neglect them, they start to fade away. Other times, even when we work hard on something, practicing and studying it everyday, we still don't see much progress. That's the most frustrating thing of all, especially if we love it. I really don't know why that has to be that way sometimes. Abstract or impressionistic painting would certainly be easier in many ways than realistic painting, but I don’t necessarily encourage people to do that if it goes against their instincts.
If you start drawing as an adult, you might learn faster than you would have learned as a child, but you may never be equal to people who have done it all their lives. Then again, you might—I can't predict things like that. Joseph Conrad learned English as an adult and then wrote "Heart of Darkness" in that language. Michelangelo was 22 when he sculpted the Pieta (here I confess to substantial envy), but of course he had already been drawing and sculpting most of his life. Clearly there are some fundamental brain formations that take place in childhood.
Learning to draw is kind of like learning to speak a new language. I lived in Japan for two years and learned to speak fluently, but definitely not as good as people who have spoken it all their lives. My earliest memories of drawing come from when I was about five years old. It has always been an intuitive activity for me, almost like eating or sleeping, but one that requires discipline, practice, and effort. I always enjoyed drawing more than practicing the piano or other things I was required to do in childhood. Consequently, when my parents tried to punish me by sending me to my room, it felt more like a privilege than a prison because I had a huge bucket of Lego® pieces, a little table, and some drawing paper. I decided in my childhood that I wanted to be an artist—but I had already been drawing for a while when that occurred to me. My mom and dad rightly take credit for being encouraging and supportive.
When I was in high school, I decided to try out for the soccer team before my senior year. I did well, but I knew that I was competing for just a few positions with guys who had already been on the team for two years, and there wasn't even enough room for all of them on the team, let alone a new guy. After a couple nights of the tryouts, I asked the coach if he thought I stood any chance of making it. He told me that even if I were equal in ability to somebody else, he would have to choose the guy who had been involved with the team from the beginning--because he was more familiar with the routines and expectations--rather than take a risk on somebody who might have just looked good during the tryouts. Of course I was disappointed, but I learned an important fact of life that day: early preparation and diligence eventually pay off.
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Q. Who are your artistic influences?
Shall I make a list in semi-chronological order? Botticelli, Michelangelo, Holbein, Velasquez, Degas, Rembrandt, Vermeer, David, Ingres, Thomas Moran, Albert Bierstadt, Arthur Rackham, John W. Waterhouse, A. William Bouguereau, Jean-Leon Gerome, Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Frederic Leighton, Edwin A. Abbey, John Singer Sargent, Abbott H. Thayer, Gustav Klimt, N.C. Wyeth, Andrew Wyeth, Howard Pyle, J.C. Leyendecker, Dean Cornwell, Norman Rockwell, Maxfield Parrish, Andrew Loomis, John Legata, Richard Schmid, Burt Silverman, Tim O’Brien, Michael Deas, Charles Santore, James C. Christensen, (this is a long list!) John H. Sanden, Natalie Acencios, Joe Sorren, C.F. Payne, Roberto Parada, Leo & Dianne Dillon, and many others.
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Q. What’s the difference between Illustration and Fine Art?
Illustration refers to visual works commissioned for reproduction in print or other media. For example, art specifically commissioned for a magazine cover or movie poster is considered illustration. Sometimes people use the word illustration to classify narrative, figurative, or realistic art, but I think that's a misinterpretation of the true meaning of the word.
Fine art is generally used in reference to visual works created independently by an artist for sale in a gallery. However, I think it would make more sense to call this "gallery art," thus avoiding connotations of exclusivity. Gallery art and illustration are different, but not mutually exclusive--contrary to some pervasive elitist dogma. Gallery art is only one form of fine art. Illustration is another form of fine art, and an especially demanding one. These days most people are beginning to let go of the airy distinction between the two, which was so carefully delineated in the twentieth century.
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Q. How much do you charge?
It really depends on several factors including the nature of the project. Since all my work is handcrafted, usually to custom specifications, the process varies. I like to discuss it with the client and get a feel for what they need, including things like the purpose, intended usage, timeframe, and budget. Then I am better able to determine a price. The price I ask for an original piece of art meant to be displayed in a home or business would be different than for a commissioned illustration meant to be reproduced in one or more of the various media.
Illustration in all its forms (packaging, advertising, editorial, publishing, digital, etc.) is valued based on the usage rights and extent of exposure intended. For example, a small-time theatre company might have to pay just a few hundred dollars for a piece of advertising art, while a major Broadway company would be expected to pay several thousand for the same thing, simply because of the greater extent of use and value they get out of it.
U.S. copyright law distinguishes the sale of the original artwork from the sale of reproduction rights, so the contract must specify exactly what is being sold and for how much.
Generally, if a client wants to purchase an original artwork in addition to reproduction rights (not to be confused with "reproductive rights"), I ask for about 50% more than the appropriate fee for usage rights alone. That’s because in our world of communication and intellectual property, the reproduction rights to an illustration hold the potential to generate a lot more money than resale of the original artwork. I personally hope (and believe) my originals will someday be worth more than they are now, so I try not to let them go out the door too cheaply. Most musicians who have obtained the original piece of artwork used in their CD probably just named a price the artist could be satisfied with and then put it in writing to protect both sides from confusion.
If a client comes back after the first printing and wants to do a second, assuming the second run would be equal in all respects to the first (same media, quantity, geographic distribution, etc.) I would normally ask for 75% of the original fee. That’s not bad when you compare it to Hollywood where famous actors can hold out for 2 to 4 times their original payment in order to do a sequel. If a second printing isn’t certain, but the client wants to purchase the rights in advance just in case, I think an additional 50% is fair (again assuming the second run is equal in all ways to the first), because the client may or may not exercise those rights. If the client wants second rights to be unlimited by quantity, geography, etc., I would have to ask for more money because open-ended rights are kind of like a blank check.
As far as I know that’s pretty standard among most illustrators, but everyone has slightly different practices.
Sometimes I’ve had clients who were happier with a time limit on a contract, giving them the right to use the artwork as much as they want in a single medium like "web use only," for two years or whatever amount of time they want to pay for. This can help when the budget is tight, because the client can "rent to own" the rights they need by paying a series of pro-rated installments over the course of a year or something. My philosophy on selling rights is basically whatever works as long as we both agree it’s fair. I’m not out to scam anybody and I expect the same from others.
U.S. copyright law also ensures that any rights not signed over by contract to another party remain the property of the creator of the work. So if someone has a tricky lawyer, they could probably get away with a lot from an artist who doesn’t bother to read the fine print. I’ve even heard horror stories about real contracts with clauses like "all rights to any and all works created by the artist for a period of five years become the exclusive property of the client…" Can you imagine? Having been burned before (not nearly that bad), I try to be careful not to sell myself into slavery. Thankfully I find that the majority of people who enjoy my work also tend to be decent and fair.
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Q. What do you recommend for art students?
Here is some random advice somewhat akin to artistic preaching. Take it or leave it as you please.
1. Exercise your craft. Drawing a lot is the first requirement of improving your artistic skill, just like anything. Michael Jordan didn’t become great by playing video games or sitting around talking about basketball, did he? Draw what you like to draw. Draw what you imagine, as well as what you see. Draw all the time. Buy a sketchbook. I like a small, hardbound sketchbook I can take anywhere. The work in the "Sketchbook" section of my site all happens there. I would like to say you shouldn’t throw away your old drawings, because they are the records of your progress, but that would be hypocritical because I have trashed a lot of my old stuff.
2. Teach yourself. Don’t wait for someone to come hold your hand and show you how to paint. Buy some paints and figure them out on your own. If you can already draw well and you're determined to paint well, you'll probably get the hang of it. I spent a whole paycheck from my part-time job in high school (about $150) to purchase oil paints. I was tired of waiting around for someone to buy them for me and teach me how to use them, so I taught myself. Check out books at the library. Read any book you can find written by or about any artist you like.
3. Learn about art. Look at paintings. Take art history. Study the work of artists whose work you respond to. In my art history classes, they didn’t tell me enough about the artists I really cared about, so I have been studying their lives and work on my own. Skip a movie once in a while and buy an art book that you like. Go to museums. Go to New York or L.A. or Washington D.C. or Europe or Asia and soak up the great artwork. Learn to appreciate as many styles and kinds of art as you can. Look for the good in all, but don't be afraid to have personal favorites. Buy art magazines at thrift stores for 25 cents each. Cut out stuff you like and make a scrapbook of inspiration. Build a "visual vocabulary" by studying images of all kinds--symbols, design, photography, sculpture, and paintings.
4. Learn about life. Take all your classes seriously. Read books. Not just art books. Read books you enjoy. Read the classics. Study History, Science, Mathematics, Music, English. Learn a foreign language, play an instrument, play a sport, build random stuff, grow flowers, go places. Make friends, make memories, meet people, talk to people, do community service, work at a part-time job, do your homework. Walk through the woods, hike in the mountains, write in your journal, play, soak up all the good things in life, and stay away from the things that don’t grow your soul. Don’t wish your youth away. Observe nature. Look at the skies, mountains, fields, and trees. Analyze the shape of things, the color of things, the texture, the form, the structure of things, both natural and man-made. Watch people. Examine faces, postures, personalities. Exercise self-discipline in what you watch on TV, movies, video games, etc. A lot of the crap out there can really dull your mind. Creating art takes concentration, observation, and a sense of the spiritual nature of life that is so easily drowned out by sensational, soul-dumbing media. If you really want to create art, you don’t have time for that anyway.
5. Get an education. There are a lot of expensive art schools that will really try to teach you to be a good artist. I don’t know how you then pay off your enormous student loans. I believe that if you diligently do the very things I’ve said so far, you can go to a pretty good school and be as good or better than students who pay $27,000 a year or more (for four years!) to attend art school. Not very many universities have great art programs, but I went to one that does (Brigham Young University in Provo, UT). I have heard Syracuse and some others also have good illustration programs. Anyway, learn all you can about the schools you think you would want to attend. I loved having friends and roommates in college who weren't studying art. I learned stuff from them about life, about things normal people do. That’s one of the advantages of a university over an art school. I would have gone crazy being surrounded only by artists every day of my education. Seek variety. I was able to take many classes not directly related to art, and I loved them all (mostly). The more widely you learn and experience the positive in life, the richer and more meaningful your art can be. You may learn how to do your art well, but in order to do any significant work, you must have something sincere and heartfelt to say. Your life outside the world of art will be the thing that teaches you what is worthwhile to say with your art.
6. Don’t believe everything they tell you in art school, or in life in general. Test it out. Try it. Prove it. Challenge it. Learn it for yourself. Certainly listen to it and consider it, don’t ignore it, but don’t accept things blindly either. Find out. Don’t let anyone make you ashamed of yourself, your work, or the kinds of art which resonate with something inside you. There are elitists in the Art World who will try to make you accept their ideas of what is "good" and "bad" in art. When you start doing what you sincerely love to do, they will try to step in and say "you can't do that!" Just ignore those people. You don't have to subscribe to their ideas. You don’t have to admire the art they admire, and you don’t have to despise the art they despise. Hold on to art that moves or touches you, and never be ashamed to love what you love simply because you love it. Those people will try to convince you that certain kinds of art are intrinsically better than others, but don’t let their nonsense affect you. To the degree that you seek acceptance from the artistic elite, your own art will suffer ruin. They will try to make you think that joining with them and accepting their philosophies validates you and your art, but the truth is, it is you who validates them if you buy into their story. Try not to pay attention to their scofffing. Avoid becoming self-centered, self-deceiving, negative, jaded, cynical, or bitter. Form your own opinions and hold on to them. Never go against your own sensibilites. Follow your conscience. To deny your natural inclination toward truth, good, beauty, and all things pure or noble, is to reject the fundamental inspiration that is the essence of great art. Above all, be grateful for the extraordinary privilege of being an artist.
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Q. What advice do you have for starting a career in art?
Be aware that it is very difficult and competitive. Try to have a realistic perception of your strengths and weaknesses. The economy is always changing, and there are many different ways to go about using your talents for profit, but not everyone succeeds or prospers in the field they choose. I would recommend learning as much as possible about any field of endeavor before you invest the time and money it takes to get started.
It takes a lot of work, first of all, but that's not the only thing. I once heard someone say he wants to be an artist because he doesn't want to work. I think that person is headed for disappointment. Art (as I know it) is certainly not a realistic way to avoid work. In college I had roommates who were Science, History, Business, and English majors. After an entire semester of seeing me work all day (and often through the night) to finish projects, one of them (master of the obvious) pointed out, "You have a lot of work to do in your major, don’t you?" Hard work is the nature of the business, and part of the price you pay for the real satisfaction to be found only in enjoyable work done well. It is possible to love your work, but it is still work, no matter how much you love it. I think "drudgery" is the correct term for the kind of work we would all like to avoid.
It also helps to have talent, artistic skills, business skills, education, knowledge, intelligence, wit, determination, tenacity, creativity, money, time, opportunity, luck, and perseverence. You can't expect to get on some kind of magical conveyer-belt, buckle your seatbelt, and ride the exciting roller-coaster of an artistic career. You have to swim upstream and forge your own opportunities. I knew a guy who worked as an artist, but for him it was too much work and too little reward, so he quit and went to law school.
I recently re-read Steve Heller's book The Business of Illustration, (New York: Watson-Guptill, 1995) and it makes even more sense now than when I read it as a student, especially chapter one, "What They Do and Don't Teach in School." He puts forth a harsh but realistic description of the facts-of-life in this business. I would advise any aspiring illustrator to read that book. Some other good references include:
Graphic Artists Guild. "Handbook of Pricing and Ethical Guidelines, 9th Edition." New York: Graphic Artists Guild, 1997. (10th Edition coming soon)
Faux, Marian. "Successful Freelancing." New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996.
Perlstein, David. "Solo Success: 100 Tips for Becoming a $100,000-a-Year Freelancer" New York: Three Rivers Press, 1998.
Communication Arts magazine always has informative articles on freelancing by Barbara Gordon and Maria Piscopo. I also subscribe to "The Artist’s Magazine." Additionally, look for "The Artsist’s Market" and similar books in your local library.
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