Afternoon Shadows, Oil on Canvas, 24x24 inches, ©Lynn Goldstein, $1700 The drawing below was a first effort for me at the age of 4 While someone was visiting my studio last week, a common question was posed. The question was this, "When did you know that you wanted to be an artist?" Followed by a less common question, "When did you know that you were talented in visual art?" Now, on the surface, the first question was an easy one to answer. The surface answer was, "Since I was a kid." The second question was harder, because I still am not sure how much talent I have. I work at my art, and have questioned my talent almost as long as I have been breathing. But I was reminded of something in my past that illustrated almost exactly when I knew that I wanted to be an artist. Bear with me here. I think you will get my point. Remember when you were in elementary school? Of course you do! Come sit with me in those tiny chairs and let me share a memory. When I was in elementary school, we had coloring competitions. That's right, coloring competitions! Silly as they were, I found myself most annoyed that Rachel Trent (name changed to protect the innocent) won those darn competitions every week. Now, I knew that Rachel had no more ability than I did where art was concerned. After all, I could draw rings around Rachel Trent! Her winning stuck in my craw weekly. So, rather than admit defeat, I studied what Rachel did with her coloring. She was very neat, and stayed carefully within the boundaries of the coloring book pages. This felt uncomfortable and uncreative to me even as a kid. Unlike anyone else in the class, she outlined each border of the forms with black. Therefore, armed with knowledge, I did the same thing, and won! Once I had proven to myself that I too could win the coloring competition, I went back to NOT coloring within the lines, not being totally neat, and certainly not putting black outlines around the forms. What does this story say about me? Well, I'm not particularly competitive unless something matters to me. I don't care about sports, and how well I perform in them, but art, well that's another matter. If I feel a hint of competitiveness, importance to me is confirmed. I also know that I don't like to color within the lines! So, I still question my talent, but I never question the importance of art and being an artist in my life. What matters to you? Have you had an ah ha moment when you realized that THIS (whatever this was) was important to you? How was that confirmed? Let me know in the comments below.
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"Closer to Winter," Oil on Canvas, 20x20inches, ©Lynn Goldstein Most people don't realize how difficult this making art business can be. To let you inside, here's a blow-by-blow account of a recent challenging painting experience I have been slamming my head against. First of all, let me say that I love what I do. I am particularly fortunate to be able to make things for emotional uplift and (sometimes) financial gain. That said, not all paintings are created equally. Some, though very rare, are what I refer to as "hole-in-one" paintings. This description is derived from my years of playing golf. When someone gets a hole-in-one it appears effortless. Those paintings bearing that description just seem to spring forth from some internal well of talent that goes into hiding as quickly as it appears. In other words, they are rare. Most recently, I have been painting feverishly in anticipation of a solo exhibition that I will be having in June (one of the paintings to be included is above). The work has been going smoothly. No hole-in-one paintings, but work with a minimum of angst attached to the experience. Not so for the most recent piece. Value sketch of painting before my start I started the painting as I almost always do. I went for a hike in the woods near my home. The day was beautiful, unseasonably warm, and pleasant. I took a multitude of resource photographs, excited at the prospect of revisiting the scenes in my work. After careful selection of the photograph, I made a value sketch (above). A value sketch is simply a black and white version of what I see. I can understand the composition, and better visualize how I am going to make the painting. Trouble started to rear its ugly head right away, but I didn't see it coming. You see, I didn't pay enough attention to my value sketch, instead getting tied up with I don't even know what. I continued painting, thinking with each step along the way that I had finally found the solution to reel me back into comfortable territory. Didn't happen. What would you do in a situation like that? I'll tell you what I did, and maybe you can use some of the the same techniques when you run into what appears to be failure. 1. I ripped the offending canvas off my easel and started two other oil paintings by staining the surfaces of two canvases, and for good measure, started an abstract pastel painting. Here's the oil underpainting to start another painting. An artist's version of getting back on the horse after being thrown, with the added benefit of no blunt force injuries. 2. To add more salve to my wounds, I hi-tailed it home and went for a walk in the woods before the predicted cold front blew into town. Once I was among my trees, I could decompress and enjoy the rest of my day, and come into the studio the next day with a fresh perspective. By using acetate over the painting, I can visualize whether a change will enhance or harm the final piece. 3. To see if what I had been envisioning as a correction would work, I put acetate over my painting. This is a great tool for making changes without commitment. I think that this change will work. It opens up the composition and helps lead the viewer into the picture plane. That said, this painting is still in time out in the corner of my studio where it will remain indefinitely while I work on other pieces that don't require multiple trips to a psychologist to improve!
I hope these ideas give you fuel for thought when you smack up against a failure. Please share your antidotes for trouble in the comments below. Solutions are always nice to have! This is Summer Solstice #2, 24x24 inches, Oil on Canvas, ©Lynn Goldstein $1700 For some reason, this painting reminds me of my maternal grandmother. While working on the piece, I felt the warmth of my Mimi's embrace. I hope that my art provides a warm "hug" for you today and in the future. Since one of my goals as an artist (and a human being) is to touch people in a positive way with my artwork, I am always happy when I hit the mark. People say that my art makes them feel calm and peaceful. An easy way to touch people we care about in a positive way is to give them a hug. This coming Sunday is National Hug Day. Now, I love holidays, and the sillier the holiday the better. I can really get behind a holiday that celebrates hugging. Studies have shown that there are multiple benefits of an embrace. Hugs cause the brain to release endorphins which leads to better healing throughout the body. Deprivation of a kind human touch can delay development in children. Good heavens, hugs can even lower your blood pressure. Guess what, it helps if you hug a tree too! Now, you KNOW that I can get behind that. Here's a pic of my son who knows the healing power of a good hug. He is with his lifelong friend. They always hug one another with joyous abandon, and it warms my heart. Here I am with my sweet little mom. She always understood the healing power of a hug, and would drop what she was doing if she knew that I needed one. What are you waiting for? Go give a loved one a hug and reap the benefits. Do you agree with me? Are you a hugger or a touch-me-not? Let me know in the comments below.
After just returning from Costa Rica, I have been thinking more and more about how being in nature heals us. There have been recent studies confirming that spending time in nature is beneficial to our health. Since one of my goals as an artist is to help people feel peace in a hectic world by sharing my landscape paintings, I have given this a lot of thought. Conservation is important in Costa Rica. Although the country only covers .03% of the earth's surface, it has almost 6% of the world's biodiversity. People flock to the country to enjoy nature. I was amused watching everyone cluster around to see what animals the guides pointed out in the trees while I was personally fascinated with all the trees themselves. Don't get me wrong, I was enchanted by the mischievous monkeys and raccoons, but those gorgeous branches that held them interested me as much, if not more. I hope that you enjoy some of what I was able to see, and make a resolution to spend time in nature in the coming months and years. After all, it has now been proven that doing so is actually good for your health. Excited to see the face of this sloth while hiking through the rain forest. Not sure who was more interested in whom here. Had fun expecting this emu to speak back to me. Didn't happen.... This little fellow was housed in a wildlife rescue center. Tourists clamoring to see animals in the trees at Manuel Antonio National Park. A stunning Cenizaro Tree. Yes, this will likely become a painting!! Capuchin Monkey. No, I didn't feed it! Beach in Guanacaste
To Brighten Your Day-- Recently Sold Artwork--Please let me know if this brightened your day in the comments below. Enjoy! Filtering Through, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 20 inches, ©Lynn Goldstein "Who you are is always constant as long as you are faithful to what you want to say in your art. " One of my coaches said this awhile back and I have been thinking about it a lot relative to the directions I want to take artistically, and actually in my life. Really, don't we all want to be faithful to who we are inside? For some time now, I have celebrated the beauty and peace that I find in the landscape, hoping to share that little slice of peace with others. Most of the pastel painters that I know work in a very representational style. I want to explore more, yet still stay faithful to what I want to say in my art. To that end, I have begun a new series after much thought. The series is entitled Juxtapositions because I will explore representational oil landscapes juxtaposed with abstracted pastel work. Here are the first pieces that I have made for this show. Let me know what you think in the comments below. "Filtering Through #2," Pastel on Paper, 12 x 12 inches, ©Lynn Goldstein
One of my recently sold paintings. Waves, pastel, ©Lynn Goldstein I have a studio that is open to the public which provides a unique opportunity to talk with visitors about my work, and about the business of art. One of the things that has been most surprising to those who find their way into my studio is the contractual arrangement that is made between an artist and a gallery. Since the facts astonish many people, I decided a blog post may be in order. For those who don't really care about some of the ins and outs of selling art, I hope that you enjoy looking at my artwork in this post. After all, my mission is to help people feel peace in a hectic world, so here goes, read or just look! Recently sold painting, Panama Skies #2, 12 x 9 inches, Pastel, ©Lynn Goldstein My work is represented by several commercial galleries. Commercial galleries work with a variety of artists. When an artist has a good relationship with a gallery owner, it's like a successful marriage. The gallery owner ensures that the artists they represent are successful. The artists work to ensure that the gallery is successful too. After all, when artwork sells, both parties benefit. The gallery owner, and employees of the gallery, know about each artist's work and style, and are adept at discussing the uniqueness of the art made by those they represent. This works well for all parties involved because the art is more likely to sell well when the owner, or the workers in the gallery, are invested in the artwork. For all that the gallery owner does to promote the art, and pay for their brick and mortar location, the gallery collects a 50% commission. That's right, 50%. This fact inevitably prompts shocked looks from visitors to my studio. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I rent an open studio at the Workhouse Arts Center in Lorton, Virginia. I pay rent, and the Workhouse also collects 30% commission from what I sell. My prices reflect the commissions that are taken from the sale of my work. I keep my prices consistent across the board because I would not want to undercut my galleries for multiple reasons, but primarily because I always endeavor to be ethical in my dealings with others. My prices must also reflect the cost of the framing for which I pay. I am proud of the work that I do, and that is reflected in the way that I present the art. Therefore, I utilize museum glass when glazing is necessary, and I use quality framing materials. Finally, I need to also be cognizant of the time and effort put into the art that I make, and I must price accordingly. Now that you know part of what goes into selling art, what do you think? Do you understand why art may be priced in a way that you didn't understand before? Let me know in the comments below. Another recently sold painting. Shining Through Oil on Canvas, 6x8 inches, ©Lynn Goldstein
Going to art museums in other countries is one of my favorite things to do. Well, honestly, going to museums in the US is also a best-loved pastime of mine. Since I have gone to so many museums over the years, what really fascinates me now is finding artists who have been unfamiliar to me. So, I don't go to just any museums if I can help it. No, I want to spend time in museums that house work by artists that are particularly well known in their country, but maybe not so well known in my own. Several years ago, when visiting Montreal, Canada, I was introduced to Emily Carr. Emily Carr was born in 1871, and made her living as an artist when doing so as a woman was difficult. Like me, Carr had an endless love of nature, particularly trees in the forest. Rather than capture the location indicating every blade of grass and leaf on the trees, she was more interested in her perceptions and feelings regarding the place she was committing to paper or canvas. I do the same. Here is a quote by Carr that illuminates her thoughts. " A painting must be more than a copy of the woods and fields: it must be about space, colour, and light. The painting itself was more than what was before us—it had a life of its own independent of the objects or places it represented. Therefore, colours did not have to 'match' those of nature; instead, they should express the artist's feelings about the subject." An interesting bit of trivia about Carr's technique is that she diluted her oil paint with gasoline. I, on the other hand, use water mixable oil and no solvents at all. I can't imagine what gasoline must have done to Carr's health, but there is no evidence that she was adversely impacted by it's use. She lived to the age of 74. My heart beats in sympathy with Carr's goal in making landscapes, I make every effort to express how I feel about the place I am visiting. Here are some of my recent pieces along with some of Emily Carr's work. You will see that our art is very different. That said, Carr's work ethic, tenacity, and love of nature inspire me immensely. Do you see any similarity between my work and Emily Carr's? Let me know in the comments below. Enjoy. On the Way, 12x12 inches, Pastel ©Lynn Goldstein Three Reds #2, 24 x 18 inches, Oil on Linen, © Lynn Goldstein Wood Interior, Oil on Canvas by Emily Carr Totem Walk at Sitka, Watercolor on Paper by Emily Carr
Having just returned from an opening reception of my work in West Virginia, I am reflecting on what makes a place feel like home. I grew up in Beckley, a town in the mountains where I learned to have a deep regard for nature. However, I spent over 24 years returning to Lewisburg to visit my mother's adoptive home. I have such fond memories of my visits there. I realized on this trip that Lewisburg feels like home to me as much as Beckley does. Beckley is home because I still have so many friends that I care about there. Lewisburg feels like home because I love the memories that are evoked walking the streets of the beautiful little town, remembering shared activities with my family. Here are some pics of my experience visiting my adoptive home along with a video of my work in the Washington Street Gallery in Lewisburg. Do you have an adoptive home? What do you think makes us feel as if a place is home? Let me know. Just click comments below. I delivered 19 paintings for an exhibit of over 25 pieces of my work. A sign at one of my favorite restaurants, the Stardust Cafe. Betcha didn't know that there is a Carnegie Hall in West Virginia! There is, and it's in Lewisburg. This is an example of a display case at the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame. Bill Withers is from WV. In fact my father knew his mother. So, I always felt a connection to him. I love visiting cemeteries. This was the oldest grave marker that I could find. It's in the Old Stone Church Cemetery. You can find all kinds of historic markers in Lewisburg. Sometimes you miss them if you don't look down.
Bluebells, Acrylic, 36 x 24 inches, ©Lynn Goldstein How often are you reminded of a loved one in your past when you hear a specific song, smell a familiar smell, or look at a photograph? Visual art can also remind you of someone who means or meant a great deal to you. When that happens it can feel like magic. This is one of the many ways that art can help us to heal. If we are reminded of a lost loved one because of imagery in visual art, we can be comforted by the experience. When I went to pick up payment for a painting that I sold recently (the one pictured above), I was touched to the core by what the collector told me. First of all, she mentioned that this was the first "real" art that she had ever purchased. I was surprised at how uplifting her words were. Then she went further in her comments about the painting. She said that her mother had passed away 9 years ago. She had no photographs of her mother around her home because seeing the photographs saddened her. One day, while passing by my painting, she was struck by it. The woman portrayed in the painting made her think of her beloved mother. She couldn't see her face in the painting, but felt her beautiful mother was portrayed there, and the painting made her happy. Unlike the photographs that she hides of her mother, this painting doesn't add to her grief. Instead, the painting helps her to feel her mother's presence and makes her feel better. Just last month a similar thing happened to me. I'll explain. Royal typewriter and Typewriter print by Valerie Stemac My father died when I was 25 years old. He still remains one of the best people I have ever known.
He was a fast and furious typist, and typed all his correspondence to me after I left home. He used a Royal typewriter that looks like the one pictured above. He hit the keys so hard that the back of the typing paper would sometimes look like braille. I loved getting his letters, and can't see a typewriter of any stripe and not think of him. While in my studio building, I saw that one of my fellow artists, Valerie Stemac, was working on prints that illustrated an old typewriter. I was so happy seeing that artwork. Memories flooded back to me. All these years later, and that print made me smile as I thought of my beloved father, and felt his presence healing me from my loss so long ago. Valerie was kind enough to give me a tote bag with her typewriter print on it. Art can challenge us, disturb us, and make us think, but it's ability to heal us and bring us peace is equally important ... and lovely. Please tell me what you think. Has a piece of art helped to remind you of someone you held dear? Just leave a comment below by hitting comment. Thanks for reading! |
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