Fall Open Studios!

Please join me this weekend for Fall Open Studios in the Mission!

Here are the details:

Fri Oct 26th, 6-9pm

Sat-Sun, Oct 27-28th, 11am-6pm

1890 Bryant St. (at Mariposa)

San Francisco

Solo Show at ArtZone 461 San Francisco

This Spring, I was fortunate to be selected the Grand Prize winner in a statewide realism competition sponsored by ArtZone 461, a San Francisco gallery.  The show opened on April 14th and will be on view until May 27.  Since I was flying to Paris to celebrate my 50th birthday on opening night, they have graciously planned a reception for me for this Saturday, May 5.  Here are the details:

Sat., May 5, 5-8pm
ArtZone 461 Gallery
461 Valencia St. (@ 16th)
San Francisco

For more information:
http://artzone461.com/exhibitions/1204-morin-p.html

See you there!

It All Belongs To Me

A number of years ago, I was watching an interview with Ruth Simmons, current President of Brown University in Providence, on "60 Minutes."   Ed Bradley was asking her about her childhood as daughter of a sharecropper in Texas, and then asked about her field of study at Harvard.  "17th Century French Literature," she replied.  "How does the daughter of a sharecropper in the rural, segregated South even know that there is such a thing as 17th Century French Literature?!?"   "Because, Ed," she said smiling sweetly, "it all belongs to me!"

It all belongs to me.

Because I'm interested in it, passionate about it, love it -- it belongs to me.  Even if there is no external reason for it -- nothing in my family history, nothing in what I was taught in school, nothing in my class, race, upbringing -- it still belongs to me.

Why do I have a specific love of Brazilian Music?  I've never been to Brazil.  Growing up I didn't know any Brazilians (not many to know in suburban Boston).  Why am I so passionate about Classical Music and French cooking?  Why am I making a career as a portrait artist?  My parents weren't particularly interested in any of it -- so why?  I grew up in a working class family 20 miles south of Boston.  My dad was a machinist and my mom was a homemaker.  My dad liked music so I was exposed to a bit of classical music as a child.  There were no artists in my family, in fact I would often look at my family (cousins, aunts, uncles etc.) and think, "There is no one I can point to and say, 'I'm like them.'"

So here I am, a working portrait artist, a great lover of all kinds of music, a sometime choral singer, a "foodie," a junky for culture, an urban internationalist and Europhile.  Why?  Because it all belongs to me. 

Why We "Do do that voodoo!"

I think artists must be among the bravest people on earth.  No, for the most part we are not distinguishing ourselves on the battlefield or saving children from burning buildings or doing any of the other things that are conventionally called "brave."  Our's is a different form of bravery.  We aren't necessarily risking our lives but we are constantly putting ourselves, our hopes and our reputations on the line with no guarantee of success, remuneration, reward or even satisfaction.  We are brave because we have the audacity to go every day to our studios and face the blank canvas, the blank piece of paper, the unformed lump of clay and try to make art.  To make "something" out of "nothing."

Why do we do it?  Why do we put ourselves through the endless doubt, disappointments and despair? 

I think it's because we've been given a gift and we feel the responsibility of the gift.  There is a quote I love from Red Skelton -- "When you have a talent, that's God's gift to you; when you use that talent, that's your gift to God."  Whether you believe in God or not, it's a great statement to ponder.    We have a gift and we've been given that gift for a reason.  We must use it.  Even if we try and ignore it, it comes creeping back to say "Don't forget about me -- you can do something that no-one else can do -- so do it!"  There have been three times in my life that I have said (out loud) "I am no longer an artist, I will never be an artist, I must find something else to do!"  I got rid of all my art stuff and tried to have another life.  Each time, art creeped back into me.

It is a huge responsibility and a great burden but there are rewards.  When you get that little glimpse of the "divine,"  it reminds you why you "do do that voodoo," and  pulls you along through the disappointments, so you can keep going.   Remember when you are downhearted and disappointed that what you are doing is brave and audacious and important -- and "keep on doin' what you do!"

How's Your "Flow?"

Creative flow, that is. 

A few nights ago, I was on the TED Conference website and came across Elizabeth Gilbert (author of "Eat Pray Love") talking about living a creative life.  It was inspiring, funny, moving and one of the clearest expressions of what it feels like to have inspiration and not have inspiration.  I'm including the link below and I urge everyone (especially those of you struggling to live a creative life) to watch this, I think you'll find some valuable perspective on why we continue to do this!

It got me thinking about what MY creative process feels like (I know it's probably different to anyone else's).  I, too have had my "brushes against the 'Divine.'"  There are times as I am painting that I feel as if time stands still and the brush in my hand is being controlled by someone else.  I take a step back and look at what I've done and I don't really remember doing it.  Something is flowing through me from somewhere else.  That's my "flow," and I'm just the open pipe.  It doesn't always happen this way and a lot of the time it's just a slog but when it does happen -- it's pure ecstasy!   When it does happen, I keep saying over and over , "Yes, I know, I know -- this is what I'm supposed to do -- just let me keep doing it!"

Keep your art pipes open!

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

The Sotheby Syndrome

A few weeks ago, Alan Bamberger, who runs an excellent website called ArtBusiness.com posed a discussion question on FaceBook:  "Does the fact that auction houses such as Sotheby and Christies are posting record sales help you as an artist?"  As soon I read this, I remembered a conversation I had a few years ago (in the depths of the economic downturn) with a gallery owner.  He said, "Don't worry, the art scene is really heating up -- Sotheby's going crazy and people are paying millions for art!"  I remember thinking at the time, "So what?  How does that impact me?" -- I still think it.

While I'm generally happy that people are doing so well buying and selling art; as a working artist, I know that the rarefied circles where people pay enormous amounts of money for "blue-chip" art are closed to me.  Sotheby is not going to come knocking at my studio door for their next auction and our contemporary "Mellons" and "Carnegies" aren't likely to wander into one of my Open Studios.  This amazing auction success doesn't "trickle down" to where I paint.

But their are collectors who come to my studio.  There are people who commission -- just not enough.  This is where I think, in fact, these splashy news stories do a disservice to us.  The idea of being an "Art Collector" comes with a lot of baggage fueled by the idea that art collecting is somehow a "rich man's game."  This elitism is also intensified by the intimidation you are often made to feel when walking into most galleries.  The average person feels that, while they love art, they don't want to appear foolish because they don't know enough about it or maybe can't afford the higher end pieces on offer.  What galleries seem to not know is that when a person is beginning to collect, it seems like a frivolous thing to spend a couple thousand dollars on something that won't feed them, clothe them or keep a roof over their head.  The idea that this artwork they've just bought will feed their soul for many years to come only comes to them later when they realize they can't imagine life without it!

What most people don't realize is that there is great art to be had in all styles, media, and price ranges in most cities -- all you have to do is look for it!  Look for advertised Open Studios and go and talk to artists -- learn about what you like and don't like and then start collecting.  Don't worry about what it'll be worth in 20 years -- just collect what you love!  

 

Thomas Hoving, former director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, said; ". . .you'll meet individual works that you'll need for the rest of your life, works that thrill you, energize you, lift your soul, soothe you, make you smile, make you think about the fate of mankind and the universe, make you have to see them again and again for the good of your psyche, state of mind, and strength of heart.."   Most of the time this will happen in a museum, but this can also happen in your own home after you've acquired a piece of art you love.  The best part, is that you'll then have a direct connection to the artist and know that by your patronage, you are helping the creative process continue and the birth of new art into the world.  Kinda cool, huh?

In Defense of Modern Art

Last week I attended a symposium sponsored by the California Art Club.  The first panel discussion concerned the state of "Realism" in our time.  A pertinent discussion topic given the essentially conservative nature of the organization and the "anything is art"  attitude of the current art scene around it.   The premise was that the CAC and organizations like them were holding aloft the small, sputtering flame of civilization against the philistinism (no -- barbarism) of contemporary art.  I felt like the anarchist in the room!

On the surface, this would seem like an odd statement; after all, I'm a painter of portraits and figures using a very traditional technique.  I am an ultra-realist and in my current work, I'm trying to bring an almost neo-classical clarity to my work -- you'd think I would be in complete agreement.  Yet when I hear arguments likening the Modern Art movement to a second "Dark Ages," I must raise serious objections.  The impression I get from arguments like this is that civilization would have been better off without Modern Art ever having occurred (or at best that it was a "temporary insanity").   Like "Traditional Catholics" who would have us go back to a pre-Vatican II world complete with mass in Latin, these art traditionalists would have us return to a "golden age" somewhere in the 1880s before all the confusion and "isms" took over.   My message to these naysayers and upholders of tradition is simple.  It's not just that we should grudgingly accept modern art as a fact -- we should embrace it, learn from it, and ultimately develop a new realism. 

Modern art did something very important in the late 19th century.  It declared to the world in a very definite way that there was no longer only one correct way to create art.  By rebelling from the traditions of the École des Beaux Arts,  artists starting with Courbet tore down worn concepts and created art again in their own image.  Realism did not die -- it was transformed.  It is our duty to transform it again.  When I look at the technically beautiful work coming out of the ateliers, I'm often admiring of the skill but baffled at the results.  But for details of dress and place, many of these works look as if they were painted a hundred years ago -- as if the countless movements of the 20th century never took place. 

There is plenty of modern art that I dislike, but there is an equal plenty that I love and am inspired by (even if on the surface, my work has nothing in common with it).  As contemporary realists, we do ourselves a disservice if we patently ignore (and refuse to learn from) the work of the last hundred years.  Let's make a new realism that looks like nothing but a 21st century realism -- that's what I'm trying to do.