Anna Rose Bain

There is great power in the spoken word. As a lover of words – especially beautiful words – I’ve always known this. But the older I get, the more I realize what a responsibility we have towards what we say or don’t say. Words have power to break resolve, crush hopes, or batter one’s spirit. They also have the ability to encourage, motivate, and embolden.
Over the years I’ve been on the receiving end of some wise advice, and several of those conversations will always stand out to me as having changed my life in some way. While I won’t burden you with every single life lesson I’ve learned, I will tell you about one recent conversation that helped tear down a huge mental block I was facing in my art.
It was nearly two months ago. I was one of the hundreds of guests (mostly artists) crowding into Gallery 1261 for the opening reception of Richard Schmid’s retrospective show. The place was packed and I had to speak at the top of my lungs to be heard by anyone standing more than twelve inches from me. In this space, I crossed paths with the indomitable Rose Frantzen, one of my all-time favorite artists and someone I greatly admire. We were practically yelling in each other’s faces to be heard above the chaos, and yet out of this noise came such wisdom from Rose, I find myself thinking about it still.
I don’t remember how it came up, but I was telling her about a portrait commission I had been working on for the past five months and how much of a struggle it was. I had repainted the face four or five times, and each time it only seemed to get worse, not better. Rose, in her unsympathetic but not unkind way, said, “Start over. Let the dead paintings die.” She then proceeded to tell me about a commission that she had done from an old black and white photograph. She spent over a hundred hours on this painting, laboring to get every detail exactly perfect. Then, she started a second one and completed it in just six hours. It was different from the first, but no less perfect. She presented the clients with both paintings, not telling them which one she had spent more time on. The clients chose the six-hour painting. Later, they called her and said they also wanted to buy the other one.
I was blown away by Rose’s story and realized that this woman does not let fear get to her. I think I’m confident but then after one conversation with someone like Rose, I realize I still have much to learn!
After that, I went home to my studio, and, with some dread, sent the clients an email explaining that I needed to start over and would need some more time. To my surprise and relief, they were very understanding and said they appreciated that I was working so hard to get it right!

I went back to the pose and setting that I had intuitively felt worked the best (but not the one they chose, originally), and started a brand new painting. These paintings were not small, or simple. The portrait was to be 40×30 inches, with an elaborate garden setting and bright sunlight bouncing all around. But I started the new portrait with fresh vigor and felt so much freer to make a great painting, not just a painting of what I thought the clients would want.
I was nearing the finish line when I decided I ought to start a third portrait. The clients were apprehensive about their daughter’s stoic expression, which didn’t really fit her personality. So I went back to the smile that they were drawn to originally, and started another painting in order to give the clients more options. The lighting was very different in this one, as was the expression, so the two paintings almost had nothing in common except for the subject.
Finally, I presented both paintings to the clients. They sat and deliberated, weighing the pros and cons of each one. We all agreed that I could have painted a hundred paintings of this sweet little girl and they still wouldn’t capture every facet of who she is! But a painting tells so much more of a story than a photo does. It captures something deeper, something that grows on you every time you look at it.
Finally, the clients decided they wanted to buy both.
Grit and hard work do pay off, but not unless you have the confidence to carry through. I am grateful for Rose’s words of wisdom and for challenging me to let go of the long hours and miles of canvas in order to make my best work. Now I can deliver my finished portraits in full confidence that I did the absolute best I could do – without regrets. My clients and I are both the better for it!
I hope this post encourages you in some way to keep going. If you’ve been struggling with a project and it just isn’t working, start over! Know that those hours were not in vain, because each time you start fresh, you’ll have that wealth of experience from your previous painting to help you make more informed decisions along the way. Happy painting!

Several months ago, my husband and I moved from Dallas, TX, to Denver, CO. While we moved primarily for family, I was well aware that this “new life” meant leaving the comfort of my established art network, and seeking out a new community here in Denver.
As a natural introvert, that thought was rather scary.

You see, community doesn’t always come naturally to artists. We are accustomed to spending long hours alone in the studio or field. We screen our phone calls, preferring to answer by email (IF we have energy for it, and on our own time!). We like social media because we can be “friends” from afar, receiving the affirmation we crave without the risk of those friends discovering that *GASP*! We have bad painting days and bad hair days too!
But we all need community, and I mean, the kind where you get together in real life and draw from a model, or visit a museum show together, or grab coffee and talk about Sargent.
I worked really hard to build community in Dallas. When we first moved there I was a 23-year-old newlywed who had little to show for her art except for a few paintings completed during college (which I now cringe at whenever I see them in my computer’s “archived” folder). But my overwhelming desire to be great at painting won out over my fear of rejection. It took a lot of energy and determination to put myself out there and make new friends. I was brand new to the art scene, and incredibly insecure about my work. But I had a tremendous work ethic, and I knew that without a community of fellow artists, my growth would be slow. I also knew that other artists wouldn’t magically come to me… I would have to seek them out, draw them out of the woodwork, get to know them, and earn their respect.
During that time, I felt the need to attend as many workshops as possible with some of the artists I admired most. I made the mistake–after spending only a day or two with some of them–of asking them later if they would be willing to work with me privately, as if I were more special or talented than all the rest. Surely they would pluck me from the masses of clamoring students and take me into their fold! (I never heard back from them.) There was even one person I asked outright if she would mentor me, to which she replied rather awkwardly, “Uh, sure!” I knew in that instant that I had overstepped my bounds before a true connection had been made, and that by using the word “mentor” I had inadvertently stunted the natural development of what could have been a great relationship.

I learned a lot from those workshops, but the truth is, you don’t need a famous artist mentor to help you grow, although some are lucky enough to get that. If our hearts and minds are open, we can learn from our peers, students, fellow workshop attendees, or even casual acquaintances. One of my favorite events to attend each year is an annual portrait conference. Often before the day’s lectures and demos begin, I get up early, grab some coffee, and sit down across from a fellow attendee whom I’ve never met before, and start asking them about their life and art. I’ve learned so much from these “chance” (or not so chance) encounters. Every person I meet has a fascinating story of their own – a beautiful creative journey.
Sometimes the greatest, most influential mentors are the ones we have taken for granted. I went to a small liberal arts college, where I majored in art. That school had one painting professor, Sam Knecht. Not only was he my academic adviser, but he was my mentor and friend, and I learned more from him than just about anyone. I took him for granted because he wasn’t “famous,” but it was silly and immature of me to do so. The things he taught me were invaluable. Later, when I lived in Dallas, I was referred to a life drawing group called “The Society of Figurative Arts,” led by Michael Mentler. I started attending every week, and Michael, who was probably taken aback by this tenacious blonde girl—just had to get used to me being there. He didn’t always formally teach, but he would make little comments in passing—about form, line, proportion, etc.—that somehow sent me leagues forward in my understanding. Another mentor I took for granted: my husband Steve. He is not an artist, but he is a true go-getter who doesn’t waste time second guessing himself. I learned a lot about the business and marketing side of art from him.
As I grew in skill and confidence, I started realizing that community wasn’t just about showing up and learning from others. At some point, it was time to give back. I became the “Texas State Ambassador” for the Portrait Society of America. It was a completely voluntary position that involved hosting demos and get-togethers and relaying information about art related events. I was basically a messenger, but the benefits were huge. I got to know so many of the artists in Texas (which is gigantic state!!), that I felt incredibly connected. It was also a joy to be helping others.

The greatest way I found community was by teaching. I met one of my first students at a workshop we were both taking together, and she asked me, “Do you teach?” I was taken aback, but after allowing a couple months to think it over, I decided to give it a try. I started out by teaching private portrait classes to very small groups (2-4 people) and eventually my classes grew bigger and bigger. Finally I had to switch to teaching workshops because my studio couldn’t handle the number of students who wanted to attend! The woman who originally asked me to teach is now one of my closest friends, and I’ve realized that teaching has broadened my knowledge, sharpened my skills, and allowed me to build relationships with some amazing people I may never have gotten to know otherwise.
So now that I’m in Denver, I’ve been even more proactive than I was when I lived in Dallas. I have attended gallery events, started going to open studios at the Art Students League, and traveled to plein air events just to meet the artists. Only three months after our move, I am finding community, because I was looking for it.
Here are my tips on building community and finding mentors:

• Seek out life drawing or plein air groups to attend, and attend them regularly.
• Attend workshops and conferences; get to know not just the instructor but fellow attendees as well.
• Allow relationships to develop naturally. Don’t push it, especially with artists who are well-known and already have hundreds of other students vying for their attention. Don’t be annoying.
• Learn to ask insightful questions – ones that dig deeper and spark passion in the response. Don’t be that person who just asks, “What color did you use?”
• Ask for honest critiques of your work, and accept criticism graciously.
• Don’t be afraid to ask! (Disclaimer: Many artists make their living by teaching. If you want to learn, be willing to pay them for their time and expertise.)
• Thank someone when they correct you.
• Don’t complain publicly.
• Accept compliments. Don’t put yourself down.
• Be confident even when you don’t feel it.
• Offer ideas.
• Reach out to other artists for studio visits, and allow them to do the same with you.
• Be kind; show empathy for others. Don’t be arrogant.
• Share your knowledge, even when you don’t think you have anything worth sharing.
• Remember that you get as much as you give. This applies not just to your art but to every aspect of your life.

Anna’s Website

“That’s not real art.”
“When are you going to change your style?”
“You have a ways to go…”
“I’m not impressed with your understanding of art.”
Have you ever been told these things before? I have. And like most artists, I am deeply sensitive to criticism. (Ok, I’m deeply sensitive in general, but that’s beside the point). Sometimes one negative comment, even in a sea of positive ones, can send me reeling and make me want to throw in the towel. Or, I allow my own negative thoughts to creep in and get the better of me.

Criticism can be a tough thing to deal with, and with the start of a brand new year, as we artists set out to create our best work yet, I thought it would be helpful to address this topic. Just to clarify, when I talk about criticism, I’m NOT referring to critique. These are two very different things, and I believe that a good critique, from someone you respect and look up to, is extremely important for continued artistic development, even if it hurts to hear. I could write another post on this subject, and I think it’s worth writing… but that’s for another time. Today I want to focus on how to deal with criticism, i.e., negativity, either from others or from ourselves.
In this day and age, art is subjective. We know that not everyone is going to like what we do, and that’s fine. But negativity can put a real wrench in the creative process. How do you move on when someone lambasts you on your Facebook page, or tells you not to quit your day job, or speaks to you condescendingly? I once had someone (a much older person than myself) tell me, “You can’t really paint anything interesting or worthwhile until you reach an age where you have lots of real life experience.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Gee… I guess I should wait until I’m 65 to start painting.
Well, here are a few things I have learned over the years (and some more recently!) on dispelling negativity.

• Have a high level of self worth. If you believe in your heart that you’ll never be good enough, then negative feedback will get you down. But if you believe that you, as a person and artist, have value, with a life story worth telling, then you won’t be crushed when you encounter the occasional bad apple.

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  Own your style, and use it to tell your story unashamedly. Whether you were self-taught, schooled in a traditional atelier, or a frequent workshop attendee… all of those learning experiences have shaped who you are as an artist. Don’t downplay your education, just because it’s not the same as someone else’s. If you don’t like your style or aren’t sure what you want to say, spend some time improving your technique, and seek out council or insight from someone you trust. Sometimes an objective viewpoint can help you see yourself more clearly. Just remember that at the end of the day, no one can create your art like you can. No one else puts down a brush stroke in the exact same way you do, and if you think about it, that’s really cool.
• Try seeing it from the other side. Negative comments often stem from insecurity or envy. It just might be that the person trying to hurt you is actually going through hard times themselves.

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  Learn to cast out negative thoughts before they begin. Phrases like, “you’re not good enough,” or “your painting sucks today…” are the devil on your shoulder. They are not your thoughts and they are not who you are. Take every thought captive. Don’t let negativity, or the pressure to make money or win awards, or someone else’s worldview being imposed on you (telling you what kind of art you should be making and for what purpose) affect your productivity or your belief in your art. One technique used by marketing gurus is to speak aloud the word “cancel!” every time a negative thought enters their mind. There is power in the spoken word.
• Turn a negative into a positive. Maybe someone criticized you and it stung. But before you write off their comment entirely, ask yourself if there was some truth to that, and if you could use it to improve your work. You may find you come out stronger and better for it!

So, it’s a new year, with limitless creative possibilities. My goal for 2015 is stay positive. EVERY DAY. I hope you’ll do the same, and I wish you a very happy, artful New Year!