Another Question That NEVER Goes Away

“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.

You are correct in noticing that these are not rabbits. They are, however, stuffing themselves, so there is a connection, of sorts. Deer Above Dixie by Steve Henderson.

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 and warm 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.

Open for Business

You’d think that with an artist in permanent residence, there would be ample paintings for the walls, even if we do get to enjoy them only until they’re sold. But the Norwegian Artist, like many artists, enjoys collecting the works of colleagues, especially those whom we get to know personally, or, e-personally.

Many Hued, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

To this end, I was at a gallery last week and was just at the point of purchasing a miniature by a talented watercolorist. But I decided to go to lunch first and finalize the purchase in my mind. (This is another great reason for artists to purchase art — you begin to understand the mindset of a purchaser and see that you, too, do not lightly and impulsively undertake the additions to your collection.)

“How long are you open?” I asked the gallery associate.

“Three p.m.,” he answered.

So off I went for Thai red curry beef and coconut ice cream with black bean sauce (this latter is oddly tasty, not remotely resembling refried beans over ice cubes). At 2:40 I was back — to a closed gallery.

While apparently, according to a second associate, it had been a slow day, this really isn’t a good reason to close up shop 20 minutes, or even five minutes, early. In our little town, we have a bakery that is successful through no efforts of its own, since it regularly runs out of popular items, employs baristas who cannot make the same two coffee orders resemble one another, and indiscriminately closes early when things feel slow and everyone just feels like wandering on home.

Do not try this in your own business.

Maybe you’re like us, with a studio open by appointment and with much of your communication done via e-mail, phone, and the website — in this case, while your day doesn’t necessarily run from 8 to 5, you also don’t have to be on board 24/7. You just have to be on top of things enough to respond well within a business day to an inquiring client or gallery. While I may send an inquiry out at 11 p.m. on a Friday, I sure don’t expect a response until Monday or Tuesday, and most people are of the same level of reasonability.

But if you do have regular, posted hours, will you please keep them?

Regarding that watercolor, I still want it, and it’s not the artist’s fault that the place closed early. I will, however, let him know, so that he can let his gallery know, and hopefully, I can enjoy a green chicken curry this time, polished off by more coconut ice cream and black bean sauce, with a final dessert of that gorgeous little watercolor.

We Are Not All Artists

Last Light in Zion, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

This post was initially printed in Epoch Times, New York City edition, Art & Entertainment section

Part of my job as manager for my husband, the Norwegian Artist, is to attend artist receptions and check out the quality of the cheese and crackers.

Inevitably, as I am chatting with people (after I have chewed and swallowed, of course), the question of whether or not I, too, am an artist comes up.

“No,” I generally respond. “I am a writer.”

“Well that’s an artist!” the listener effuses. “You are an artist of words.”

Because I have a policy of not arguing with potential clients, I do not respond by saying,

“No, I’m a writer.”

The beauty of the word “writer” to describe myself is that it employs one word, instead of three, to say the same thing.

Another time, I mentioned that I am a knitter.

“Well there you go! You are an artist of fiber and integrated texture.”

I won’t even comment on this use of six words to not remotely convey the meaning of the one.

There’s something about the word “artist” that lends itself to being overused, over applied, and underappreciated.

Without offending anybody here, the primary meaning for the term is to describe someone who produces paintings, drawings, or sculptures as a profession or a hobby. I mean, think of it: when someone says “Quick! Name a famous artist!” do you honestly blurt out ”Leonardo Dicaprio” (cinematographic performing artist), “George Strait” (rural-themed vocal artist), or “Jim Carey” (quick witted on-stage purveyor of verbal and physical humor artist) before Van Gogh, Renoir, or Michelangelo?

And is there anything so wrong with the terms “actor,” “country singer,” and “comedian”? They do, after all, clearly and succinctly convey what it is that these people do, and what they do is, indeed, a form of art, which brings us to the second, and secondary, meaning of the word “artist,” incorporating anyone who practices a variety of creative arts –  writing, dancing, acting, music.

And therein, as a 16th century theatrical playwright artist once wrote, lies the rub.

In the American effort to not offend anybody, we are reluctant to place limits on the discipline, to the point that we will not say that someone is not, really, an artist:

Politically or apolitically motivated urban visual artist: Bored teenager with a spray can and an empty wall.

Kinesthetic artist of intense, sustained movement: Aerobics instructor.

Culinary creator artist of three-dimensional, quantitatively edible material: Chef.

Numerically minded operator artist of mathematical figures and data: Accountant.

Or me.

I’m a knitter, a mother, a writer, a manager, a business owner, and a cat fanatic — and many of these I accomplish with artistic flair, but I am no more of an artist than I am a scientist, and I daresay the scientific community would be offended if I passed myself off as one of their own based upon my ability to combine baking soda and vinegar to make a cool mass of bubbles. It is a chemical reaction, after all.

And yet, it seems, anybody can be an artist, and indeed, everyone is.

“Tap into your inner artist!” children are told, without the corresponding advice to “Draw forth from your internal engineer! Connect deep to your natural microbiologist! Reach in and grab that calculus around your heart!”

Is it any wonder then, that when we speak of academic disciplines, we do not include drawing, painting, and sculpting? Why bother, since obviously everyone has the ability to do this without any training, learning, reading, practice, application, or effort? Our standards in this discipline have dropped so low that a person with zero drawing ability, no concept of perspective, no acquaintance with color, shading, shape or form, can copy other people’s images on a Xerox, paste them together, and call it visual art of an equal caliber to anything that da Vinci slapped out.

With this all inclusive attitude, it is difficult, then, for people to learn, or be willing, to judge art — to even admit that paintings or drawings or sculptures are good, bad, or in between based upon quantifiable and identifiable standards. We then find ourselves oohing and ahhing as much over a paint-splotched canvas created by an inebriated elephant as we do a thoughtfully constructed landscape by a human artist who has studied, and learned from, the many Masters before him.

Or worse, we extol the Elephant Art. Or Litterbox Sculptures by cats — my son gave me a book on this as a joke, but the sad thing is that the authors were serious.

Surely art — as in painting, drawing, and sculpture — is deeper and greater than randomness; than kitschy efforts to do something no one has thought of before, like leave the canvas blank; than clumps of cat poop and clay.

It is. And it is time that we start according art – and artists –the respect that they deserve.

Art is a discipline, a skill, and a passion – and not everyone is an artist.

Is that so very hard to accept?

Daybreak, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Buying a Painting Online: Make Sure That What You See Is What You Get

Red Hills, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

As I mentioned in an earlier article, Purchasing a Painting over the Internet: Is It Safe? buying original fine artwork online is an increasingly viable and enjoyable way for people to improve the look of their living room walls.

Anyone who has looked up a recipe online knows that there are thousands of choices, and even a five-star rating does not guarantee success (against my better judgment, I once made a banana bread recipe calling for two cups of mashed bananas for one loaf of bread; the result, despite the five-stars, was a thick conglomerate of baked umber ooze more suitable as a doorstop than breakfast).

A painting, however, is more of a monetary investment than failed banana bread, and the prospective collector of an artist’s work wants to ensure that what he is seeing, and has fallen in love with, on the computer screen, looks even better once it is unpacked and hung over the sofa.

The first step toward achieving this satisfaction is using the common sense that I should have used with the banana bread recipe: if something doesn’t seem right — with the work, with the artist, with the website — then don’t blindly plunge ahead thinking that all will come out right in the end. If you have questions, then ask them, and continue asking questions until you are satisfied with the answers.

At Steve Henderson Fine Art, we communicate with studio clients via e-mail and phone, beginning with the initial contact (“I saw this painting I absolutely LOVE on your site,”) and following up with a series of communiques that acquaint us all more firmly with one another. Although Buy Now buttons are appended to studio pieces on the website, we have found that prospective buyers want to engage in conversation about a work first before hitting the button or sending the check, and rightly so.

Al Fresco by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Many clients want to know the story behind a particular piece — why Steve painted it, where it is located, whether it was painted on site or in the studio. Because Steve uses reference material that he has collected personally — and not from stock photo sites — we are able to supply a personal story for each work, from the historic Hughes House setting for Madonna and Toddler to the quirky race hiker encountered on the 9-mile trek to Hidden Lake. The Fruit Vendor remains my favorite story, a soft-spoken, Colombian market businesswoman who always saved behind the counter a special bunch of  bananas for her regular customers.

The story behind the work is an added bonus, as most people decide on purchasing a painting because it latches onto their psyche and demands to be a part of their lives. What matters is that they own it, and through the years, their own stories are added to its history.

It is important to us, when dealing with clients who are unable to come to the studio and see the work in person, that they have a firm idea of what the painting looks like in real life. An image on a backlit computer screen can look more  — or less — vibrant and colorful than it actually is, and Steve works to mitigate this issue by ensuring, through PhotoShop, that the image posted on the website is as accurate a replica of the original as he can make it. Individual screens vary, however, and what looks one way on one screen looks slightly different on another.

In our communications with clients, we send larger views of the work so that the buyer can zoom in and see the nature of the brushstrokes and the application of paint. If there is a gallery nearby (and with several in the Northwest, one in Arizona, one in Montana, and one in Connecticut, there are options), we encourage the buyer to visit and see Steve’s works in person, to get an idea of his overall style and palette.

On the Horizon, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Because a painting is an investment — and a personalized one at that — many quality galleries have a policy of allowing the buyer a set period of time, generally two weeks to 30 days, to fully finalize the sale, with the option of returning the painting — unharmed and in its original condition — to the gallery should the buyer decide not to make the purchase.

We also ascribe to this policy, and it is in both our and our clients’ best interest to ensure that everything we can possibly do to educate a client about a work — BEFORE we complete the bill of sale and send the work to the client’s home — is done. To date, we have never yet welcomed back a work from its outward journey, and the general response has been, “It looks even better in real life than it does on the website!”

So, how much can you expect to pay for an original painting by an emerging or mid-career artist — the best, most affordable source of original work for the collector of non-Lear-jet means?

An excellent question, and one that deserves a future column of its own. Stay tuned . . .

Buying a Painting: How Do I Know If an Artwork Is Good?

Madonna and Toddler by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Describing art is as subjective as saying that an elephant is big.

You’ve got that right.

Especially in today’s climate, in which actual paintings by elephants are hung side by side with those done by humans, and litterbox sculptures by cats are hawked as masterpieces of feline thought (felines . . . think?), it is difficult for the average person to know the difference between good art and bad.

And do not be misled — just as there are good movies and bad movies, and well written books and poorly plotted ones — there are standards by which one can call one painting excellent, and another one, not so excellent.

The problem is, the standards differ depending upon who is talking. The modern expressionist art movement dominated the conversation in the room for most of the 20th century, drowning out sensible questions like, “That is a large red square with a yellow line going through the middle and a blue dot on either side, and it looks like something my eight-year-old could draw. So why is that painting ‘better’ art than the ocean picture with waves that not only look like waves, but seem as if they are splashing in my face?”

Amber Waves, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Thanks to the re-emerging representational movement, people of the 21st century are feeling freer to express their opinions about a piece, and both clients and artists are wriggling out of the stranglehold of the upper crusty elite artistes who insist that the only good art is something that not only does not look remotely like anything, but also requires hundreds of multi-syllabic words to describe what it is supposed to be.

While modern, abstract art has its place, it is not the evolutionary pinnacle of humanistic thought, transcending the works of Rembrandt, Renoir, Chagall, Cassatt, or Da Vinci. Some of it is good, and some of it really is no more than the average 8-year-old could do. If you like it, and the price is right, then buy it. If you don’t like it, then don’t let anyone convince you that you should — either like it, or buy it.

If your tastes lean toward representational work — meaning that what is painted actually looks like something, then you as the viewer have the right to wonder why the artist painted something a certain way, and whether he made the head of a figure large and out of proportion because he wanted it that way, or because he couldn’t do it any other way. Drawing is a skill, and not all artists have it.

Again, because art is subjective as well as being subject to the interpretation of the artist, there are no hard and fast, quick and easy rules for determining whether a piece is professionally or amateurishly done (Naive Art comes to mind), just as there are no hard and fast rules to determining whether a person is a Christian or not (“Does he drink? Smoke? Swear? Watch R-rated movies? Dance, play cards, or wear lipstick? Not a Christian”).

As in The Emperor’s New Clothes, however, common sense does come into play.

While good representational art does not have to look just like a photograph (after all, if you want a picture of the ocean that looks like exactly like a photo of the ocean, then feel free to buy a photo of the ocean), it does need to stand up to a viewer’s logical questions:

1) If people or animals are in the piece, and their body parts look out of proportion, why is this so? Is it because the artist wanted it that way, or because he couldn’t do it any other way?

2) If the colors are garish and odd, do they work? Despite the oddness, does the painting still appeal?

3) The painting looks flat, the images without dimension. Again, is this because the artist wanted it that way, or because he couldn’t do it any other way?

4) The paint is really, really thick – all over the entire canvas. Would it have been better if the artist had confined the thickness to certain areas, and played with thinner paint in other areas?

5) Why did the artist choose this specific subject matter?

The questions are limitless, and the answers enlighten.

Enjoying and collecting art is a pleasurable journey, one in which you learn more as you ask questions; visit artist studios, galleries, and museums; and read. If someone makes you feel stupid, then no matter how much they profess to know about art, they are not the professor for you.

Because the art you hang on your walls is for your pleasure, one of the primary considerations that comes to play is whether or not you like it — has the artist used his skills with color, brushstrokes, perspective, lighting, shadow — in effect, paint — to engage you to the point that when you walk into the room, you walk toward the painting because its immediate visual impact is so arresting and strong?

Do you love this piece?

Incandescence, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Then, regardless of whether it is abstract or representational, large or small, colorful or monochromatic, a portrait or a landscape, focusing on a penguin in pink tights or a girl walking down the beach, and, most importantly, whether or not Someone Else tells you that you should, or should not, like this piece, then this is the piece for you.

Purchasing a Painting over the Internet: Is It Safe?

September, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

The Internet has opened all sorts of new markets. Books, clothes, music, home decor, all come our way at the clacking of a key — why not original art as well? As owners of the online gallery Steve Henderson Fine Art, we encourage cyber sales, and through the years, have found ourselves addressing the best way to make both client and artist happy with the experience.

For a brief overview of purchasing paintings online, Ehow addresses the basics in How to Buy Paintings Online, but after this  primer, you’ll probably have a few questions. We’ll start by one that we consider very important: 

Is it safe?

Purchasing art over the Internet is not like ordering a pack of socks. Because many individual artists sell their work online, you want to make sure that the person with whom you are dealing is a valid artist, running a reputable business, and willing to work with you throughout the process.

Many brick and mortar gallery or art museums that represent specific artists have an online presence in addition to a street address; there are also strictly online conglomerates that offer work by a multitude of artists. These should be relatively easy to research, as, in the case of the former, they generally leave a footprint in the form of newspaper articles, magazine reviews, and Chamber of Commerce statistics, and, in the latter, showcase a number of artworks by individual artists who can be tracked and identified.

Opalescent Sea, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Individual artists are the most difficult to verify, but also the most rewarding, because you are able to communicate with the artist himself, something that is often off limits in a traditional gallery setting.

To research an individual artist, find his individual website. If you don’t have the address, type in the artist’s name and see what you come up with; you might add “artist” or “art” after the name to narrow the scope, especially if the name is not outrageously unusual.

While it is not a firm requirement, it is a good sign if the artist has a designated website, and not simply a space on a freebie site. An updated, well kept-up website indicates that the artist is serious about selling his work, and should have policies in place concerning client satisfaction, payment, and returns if necessary.

Once you’re on the site, look around: Is the artist represented by any brick and mortar galleries or art establishments? Another good sign. Resumes and background can be made up, but whether or not an artist is actually represented by the establishments that he says he is — this is something that can be confirmed by a phone call, or a visit to the representing gallery’s site.

Has the artist participated in any shows? These, also, can be easily confirmed.

Is the artist a member of any societies or organizations? Has he studied or earned a degree in his field? More confirmation of validity.

Ruby, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Does the artist have a business license? This is public record,  and, again, evidence that the artist is serious about selling his work. (Yup. We’ve got one.)

At any point in the researching process, feel free to contact the artist and ask questions, whether about the artist’s background, a specific work, policies of purchase, or anything that you need to know to further your goal of owning one of the artist’s paintings. Most websites have some manner of contact form, and working artists enjoy interacting with the people viewing their art.

Buying a painting is a process, and once you find an artist whose work you like and whose credentials are established to your satisfaction, you are ready to ask serious questions of the artist about the piece or pieces in which you are interested. After all, seeing a painting on computer screen is not the same as seeing it in person, so how do you ensure that what you see is what you get?

That’s for the next article. To make sure that you don’t miss it, please subscribe to this blog in the E-mail Subscription section in the right column near the top of the page.

How Do I Incorporate Facebook into My Marketing Plan?

Valley of Gold by the Norwegian Artist

Ah, Facebook.

This is the social media that we all love to hate, complaining about how people are replacing face to face contact with the electronic buzz. I resisted for years but finally caved in, to the chorus of my youngest teenager crowing, “I’m the one who got you started on Facebook!”

Thanks, honey.

Unlike my daughter, however, I plunged into Facebook less for the experience of typing inane comments to my friends and family as I did for the opportunity to publicize Steve’s original oil paintings to a broader audience, and I find that Facebook has its unique and valuable place in the overall marketing plan.

First of all, understand that there is your personal Facebook account (in which you have the option to type inane comments to your friends and family) and your business Facebook page (in which you decidedly do NOT post inane comments) — the two are different, and should remain so. (By the way, in order to set up a Page for business, you do need a personal account already in place.)

I advise that you not use your personal account, or a variation thereof, as your business presence, but that you set up a specific Page for your art business. There are two primary reasons for this:

1) On your personal account, people can post all over your wall about anything; on your business Page, you alone post on your wall. Others are relegated to the Others section.

2) On your personal account, people send you Friend Requests which you either accept, reject, or ignore. On your business Page, people hit a one-stop Like button to join, and do not have to wait for you to notice them and respond to their requests (I had one business sit on my Friend Request for six months; guess how that made me feel?).

Musings, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Okay. So you’ve set up your Page and sent out Friend Requests to everyone in your personal friend list. That gives you a base of fans. As your friends tell their friends, or as people discover you on your website, through exhibits and shows, via newspaper articles,  from your business card, from the Facebook icon link that you append to your website  — there are myriad ways to get your name out there — then some will join your page as fans. We have fans who check Steve’s Facebook on a daily, semi-weekly, and weekly basis, and we always want to make sure that they have something to read.

Now what?

When I first set up the Steve Henderson Fine Art Facebook page, it was difficult to know what to post beyond floating a recent painting and saying something about it:

“Morningtide — rich in detail and brushstrokes — a piece of the Oregon Coast adds to a Tuesday.” Then the image, the link.

This is good — keeping your fan base up to date with your latest work.

But you can easily take this a step further, again, with the idea of providing more complete information as to what you are up to:

1) Have you been accepted into a show? Then post it on Facebook. As I prefer to limit my posts to once per day, so as to not inundate followers or overwhelm me, I will post an image of one of the paintings that will be in the show, with a link either back to the website or to the show itself, if a webpage has been set up for it. The next day, I’ll post an image of another painting that will be in the show. And so on, until every painting to be in the show has been posted. This way, each work gets its day in the sun.

2) Have you been accepted into a gallery? Same thing, one at a time, with links back to the gallery. When Steve was first accepted into Rive Gauche Galleries in Scottsdale, AZ, I posted daily through his Norwegian Artist site the paintings that were to debut his gallery entrance and a brief story about each.

3) How about your latest blog? Post the link, along with an image of your work.

4) Do you teach or conduct workshops? Post it — before the event, during, after, along with photos and that ubiquitous link.

5) Traveling for reference photos? Post some photos, and link back to your site. If you paint something from the references later, post an image of the painting along with the story.

6) Do you put out a newsletter? Let your Facebook fans know, along with a link back to your website E-mail Newsletter Sign-up Form.

Lone Pine, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson

Think of Facebook fans as the people that they are, and tell them what you’re up to.

And while we’re at it, a few things you might want to avoid posting:

1) Anything embarrassing or that makes you look foolish or unbusinesslike. This includes questionable photos from that studio party, which, incidentally, would be best not to post AT ALL, including on your personal site.

2) Whining. “How come more people don’t sign up for my Facebook page?” “Sales are really down.” “I’m discouraged and don’t feel like painting today.” These are all valid thoughts that you can share with your manager, therapist, or mother, but not your Facebook business fan base.

3) Verbal detritus. “Gonna paint!” “Gettin’ ready to paint!” “Thinkin’ about painting!” Well, duh. If you’re an artist, you’re probably going to paint. If you are going to take the time to write something, then take the time to write something: “Spent last week pumping out the basement after that freak flash flood that caused the leather sofa to split into two. This week it’s time to paint!”

Facebook is a huge social media phenomenon, but it is not the alpha and omega of your marketing strategy. It’s a part of the whole, kind of like somebody’s eyebrow or ear lobe — important, unique, distinctive, useful, and worth looking at.