Oil Painting

It is said that everybody has a story, and every life is interesting. I totally agree with that, it’s just that some people have lives that are more interesting than others, and in the process accomplish great things. That’s the way I feel about Melissa Hefferlin, Daud and Timur Akhriev. I call them the Ak-REE-ev family. I really have Suzie Baker to thank for suggesting this interview. I am so thankful that she did because communicating with Melissa via email, and with Timur on the phone, I have gained great admiration for this family. They are incredibly talented and versatile with a captivating and interesting story. All speak multiple languages and each have made significant contributions to this world through their art. Daud and son, Timur, are Russian, while wife and step-mom, Melissa, is American. Timur is not necessarily in favor of me calling Melissa his step-mom as he is adamant that he has two moms…and Melissa is one of them. They all live in Chattanooga, TN but spend a significant part of each year in Spain. At the 25th Annual Oil Painters of America National Show, held earlier this year at Southwest Gallery in Dallas, Daud (rhymes with cloud) was awarded the Silver Medal, just a tick away from the top prize of $30000, for his painting, “Harbor Conversations”. Meanwhile, son Timur received an Award of Excellence for his painting, “Youth”. This interview has been broken into two parts because of the extensive and thorough responses. This week is about their background and training. Next week we get a little more personal. You’re going to love this. Here is their story:

Melissa Hefferlin

As I understand it, at the age of 20, you went to Russia to study at the Russian Academy of Fine Art (the Repin Institute of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture) in what is now St. Petersburg. At the time you were the only American woman; that’s a pretty bold move for a young American girl. How did all that come about?
You’re right. At the age of twenty I went to study at the Russian Academy of Fine Art (you have the official name correct) in “ Leningrad” when it was still the Communist Soviet Union. I was not only the only American woman, I was the only American to study there during Communist times. Only J.M. Whistler studied there before I did, while his father built railways for the last Tsar, if I have the facts correct. I was studying painting at Otis/Parsons Los Angeles, and was rather unhappy with the emphasis on being fashionable. I met a Russian scientist who advised me that the Russians had the best art school in the world for Realism. At that time, maybe you remember 1980’s and 1990’s, we didn’t have many American destinations for the intensive study of Realism. I had to take the Russian man’s word for it, because there was no internet, there was no information on art schools in the Soviet Block, there were no ways to independently investigate the possibility. But I have always loved adventure, so I quit Otis/Parsons, sold my VW bus, and bought a ticket to Soviet Russia. (How I got a visa is a whole different story, and we don’t have time for it here.) When I arrived, the person who was supposed to meet and guide me had left the country, so a nice family my parents knew took me in. (When I was a pre-teenager, we were sent to Communist Russia as an exchange family for two years as a peace initiative on the part of President Carter. This program was run by the Academies of Science of both countries.) It’s a great piece of luck that I had no understanding of the difficulty of being accepted to the Russian Academy, because if I had known I might have given up. Being ignorant, I called all my host’s friends and found someone who knew someone in the Academy of Art, and got an interview appointment. After confusion and a very intimidating interview with some fifteen Academics (painters-educators who have received the highest educational level of the Academy of Arts of the country) in the mahogany board room, I was allowed to stay by an executive decision of the department head. They were mostly dumbstruck on how I got there, I think, and were willing to honor my gumption.

How long were you a student at the academy; how were you received, and what were you specifically hoping to learn?
I stayed for a year, like a year abroad. When I had my credits analyzed by an educational board in NYC, in that one year I had accumulated double the amount of studio hours required for a BFA in an American university. I was received with great curiosity, and mostly gracious welcome. I was the only American student out of 800, so I felt sometimes like an exotic creature in the zoo. When I arrived I was grossly underprepared, and performed far below the average student of my year. Most of my classmates had gone to art school for children for eight years, art high school for four years, and often art college for a BFA before coming to the Academy for six more years. Many were in their mid-thirties. I worked hard enough to nearly destroy my health. By the time I left, and with the encouragement and mentorship of both fellow students and professors, I was performing solidly with the middle of the class. That proved to have been one of the most useful periods of my life.
Your resume is quite impressive; what three things are you most proud of as an artist?
Thank you. You are very kind. Surely that my young self had the luck and determination to attend the Russian Academy during a time period when stellar painters were still teaching. The painters who mentored us were of a caliber and of a time period which simply does not exist there today. These men (and they were all men) had painted through the siege of Leningrad, had survived Stalin, had studied with fantastic masters themselves….This would be the event I’m most grateful for. No matter what else happens, my soul expanded and I received guidance from astonishing painters and that knowledge and experience will always be MINE. I met my future husband there. I maintain friendships of great worth to me twenty five years later. That’s number one. Secondly that I am privileged to make a living at a thing I love. I am aware of people who work labor to survive in profoundly unpleasant or repetitious or dangerous jobs (no matter how grateful they may be to have employment) and I am humbly grateful for the honor to be paid for my passion in visual arts. It’s a huge thing, yes? And on a humorous note, one of my favorite awards I was unable to accept. I entered a painting of heifers into the Kentucky State Fair. I’ve always loved State Fairs, and have an affection for the farmers of Tennessee and Kentucky, and even more for their bovines. I received a phone call that my cows were up for Grand Prize, but the judges felt they needed to inform me that the purchase prize money was 1/5 of the value of the piece. With regret I declined, but was pleased as punch with my heifers being selected. I also particularly enjoyed the honor at the Pastel Society annual juried show of the Salmagundi Award. I love that historic art club.

Daud Akhriev

You’re from Kazakhstan in Southern Russia, how is it that you came to America; when was that?
I was born in Kazakhstan because we were deported (so was my entire nationality) in 1944 to Kazakhstan from Ingushetia. After graduating from art college in the South of Russia, in the Caucasus, I then was accepted in the Leningrad Academy of Art, which is now the St. Petersburg Academy of Art (The Repin Institute). There in art school in Leningrad, I met Melissa where she was studying in Mylnikov studio with a friend of mine. When the school year ended she invited me to America and we made a life together. That was the summer of 1991.
 

At the age of eight you were singled out by the Soviet educational system to receive special training in art; what did that training involve, when and for how long were you a student?
The program I entered was officially a four year program. We were given tests, because the applicants were many. If you were accepted it was a 3-hour program after regular school, three times per week. Two months of the summer we were taught in plein air. I studied under Nikolai Vassiliovich Zhukov, who was at that time one of the top tier teachers for young students in the world, and much awarded. Even though our country was so closed by Communism, Zhukov had visitors from educational delegations from Japan, England, France, India, and others, to study his method of teaching the young people. We entered competitions all over the world and won medals in youth categories. Once, in that program, I won a medal with a personal letter from Indira Gandhi, and a set of Dutch paints. All the other kids wanted my Dutch paints. Legally the program was for children between 8 – 14. Before that, at first I was too young to enter the school because I was seven, but when the educators saw my drawings they allowed me to come illegally with the other students and attend the courses until the year I was accepted officially. In my memory, when I think about the best art schools I’ve known, I prefer that school even to the Academy, because the atmosphere was at least equal to the Academy. I preferred it because it was in an Art Nouveau mansion, with absolutely the best of the best architecture, the most fantastic teachers with a well-structured system for building a base in drawing, painting, composition, sculpture and art history. It was in Ordzhinikidze, which is now Vladikavkaz.

What are the significant differences between Russian academic training and what is typically found in the United States?
Russia has a wider range of exercises for training yourself to draw over and over and over until drawing from your head is effortless. I have never heard in a Western school where a drawing or painting will take 40 – 50 days, which our drawings at the Academy regularly did. We were expected to hone gesture drawing on our own time. We had models six days a week, five hours a day, plus evening drawing group three times per week. On top of that, all our art history teachers were well-known art historians from the Hermitage or Russian Museum, they were published authors on particular periods. So when you combine the theoretical education with teachers of that level (like having Andrew Wyeth teach you egg tempera), and you have lots of such teachers, it makes for a strong education. Also, we had the museums all free for us to enter and copy from Old Masters, with professors from the restoration department overseeing our copies. All the teachers focused on how to compose within any given shape…to use the space. And also for example in painting, when you have a painting of a model, the school was careful to give you assignments where the model was against a green background, then a black one, then a red one, in a situation with a lot of pattern, etc. Then they made it more complicated by putting two models, or three, which had to be proportional and harmonious. And, this is very different, the critiques were really critiques—-not designed to encourage students who are “ clients” of the school. The critiques were designed to eliminate your weaknesses, and they were ruthless in the best possible way. And while we lived humbly, we were given a stipend, a room in the dorm and art materials, so we could really focus on the work. Today, of course, that has changed a great deal.

Timur Akhriev

What was your childhood like in Russia?
My childhood in Russia was interesting for a lack of a better term. In 1991 we escaped war and moved from Vladikavkaz which is in the southern part of Russia. ( NOT VLADIVOSTOK!!!!!! AS MANY PEOPLE MISTAKE.) St Petersburg is up north. I was about 7 or 8 at the time and had to miss the whole year of school, but eventually did attend a public school for about two years before switching to art school. I think I had an easier time adjusting to the change as very young person than my family did.
As I told you on the phone, we kind of ended up being refugees within our own country and I think it made a very large impact on me.I think one might grow a thicker skin in situations like that, which sometimes can be a minus.

You were in art school from 1995-2002, eventually immigrating to America in 2002 to be with your father who came in 1990, and with, Melissa, your stepmother. While in school, with whom did you live, and how did you support yourself?
I entered an art school in 1995 and graduated in 2002, the same year I moved to US to live with my parents. My father moved to US in 1990 with my mom Melissa (if you need for some technical reason to call her step-mom you are welcome to do so, but I always considered her my Mother. I have two.) While I was attending school I lived in one apartment with my grandma Marietta, my two aunts Fatima and Diba and my sister Danna (it was packed). Because I was very young I didn’t have to support myself, most of my family had jobs and we had support of mom and dad who were already living in US. But if you are interested, I made my first sale when I was sixteen, it was a still life with a saddle and porcelain bull.

Like your father, at a young age you too began art studies in St Petersburg, and later in Florence; please tell us what your training was like.
The training in Russia was absolutely great and awesome. We had a seven year program which trained you from basic perspective to multi-figurative compositions. In the first year of the program we had to draw a cube on a surface with drapery to understand the perspective. After that we moved to sphere and cone and had to do it several times. In addition to that we had to paint still lifes in watercolor with pitchers and fruit, or cast iron skillets to understand different patterns, or something transparent filled with water. The reason we could only paint watercolor for the first three years is because this media teaches you precision. A mistake in watercolor is hard to fix, so eventually you have to learn to be precise in your approach to application and drawing. In addition to regularly scheduled classes, we had homework assignments, which included figure sketching, cityscape sketches, and multi-figurative composition sketches for larger projects throughout a year. Every summer we had a “Summer Practice” in a huge garden that our school had, it was not manicured, but was very natural, beautiful, and green. If you were between 6th and 9th grade you were assigned a still life in that garden for about three hours a day and after that we had to go paint cityscapes. If you were between 10th and 12th grades you had to paint a live model in the garden for about the same amount of time and also after that you had to paint cityscapes. At end of the 9th grade we had to pass exams to continue studying at this school, which included still life in oil, drawing of the mask and multi figurative composition. From 10th to 12th grades we had more advanced assignments such as nude model with different color backgrounds and live models with still life’s or some sort of arrangement.
Florence Academy was a great school too. I’ve learned many things from them as well, they are very disciplined and and have their own approach to drawing and painting and I still use certain technical aspects that they taught me. One of the great things about the Florence as a place was that I could go anywhere in Tuscany and paint one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. So combined with academy training and painting city or landscapes on the weekends, I kind of raised my level, and I think for the first time I saw my paintings starting to look more advanced and professional.

Driving through the environs of Southern Vermont, a place I know so well, I am struck by the colors and the beauty of nature, especially in the Fall. Now that I’ve lived on the West Coast as much as the East Coast I have a perspective of the two places. This is the 12th year I have organized and conducted Plein Air Workshops in Vermont at the Landgrove Inn. My family has built and enjoyed a 2nd home for over 67 years right around the corner from the workshop barn at the Landgrove Inn. This is the place where I embrace myself as an artist. I always heard that as an artist you must connect with what you like to paint. Well, I like to paint Vermont.

One artist in particular that has popped up in unexpected places when going about my errands in Vermont is the artist, Aldro Hibbard (1886-1972). I go to the local strip mall bank in the middle of Londonderry and find right up on the wall behind the teller, one of Hibbard’s paintings. Hibbard painted many snow scenes from this area of Vermont. Who would have thought a bank teller also named Hilary could direct me over to the Hibbard specialist in the area. My quest took me to Karen Ameden at the General Store, who unlocked the treasures at the Jamaica Historical Society.
 

There are bios, paintings, and photographs through googling that enlighten me but the following out of print book and hard to find books are what really informed me about Aldro Hibbard. The books are: John L. Cooley, A.T. Hibbard, N.A.: Artist in Two Worlds, Rockport Art Association;2nd edition (1996) and the book: Judith A. Curtis, A.T.Hibbard, N.A. American Master, Rockport Art Association. These books provided history and proved to be a catalyst for me to understand and make serendipitous connections with my own work and my network. Aldro Hibbard like me found enough in nature for a lifetime of contemplation and study.
I must admit, I’ve been a student for life. I have an MS degree from Pratt Institute and an MFA from the Academy of Art in SF. Many pressures of identity and success are entwined in my work as an artist. I was however, questioning my skill sets, specifically drawing. Good drawing is the most important skill in painting. Currently, I am experiencing rigorous academic training at the Golden Gate Atelier in Oakland, CA. The tradition of copying cast drawings from Charles Bargue plates and rendering from plaster casts of classical statues is priceless. After many years of painting it may seem boring and non-sequetor to go back to the basics. When one studies art and art history in museums, humility forces the contemplation and comparison of levels of mastery. Why is one work of art more exceptional? It is evident in the training.

There is a lineage of this training from the Academie Julian established by Rodolphe Julian in 1868. Aldro Hibbard’s teachers, were Edmund C. Tarbell, Frank Weston Benson, and William McGregor Paxton who had all received this rigorous academic training in Paris. Their teachers at the Academie were famous and respected artists employed by Julian were: Adolphe William Bouguereau (1825-1905), Henri Royer, Jean-Paul Laurens, Edgar Chahine, Ferrier, Tony Robert-Fleury, Jules Lefebvre and other leading artists of that time.
Paris, the center of the art world in the 19th and early 20th century was a magnet for aspiring artists. William McGregor Paxton, Edmund Tarbell, Frank Benson were exposed to the academic training at the Academie Julian, (Bargue plate copying, plaster cast copying, painting and composition) which invariably included copying Old Master paintings at the Louvre. The Impressionist movement was sweeping the city’s artist colonies and this movement and influence was impossible not to absorb as an artist. While in France these artists also traveled and were influenced by artists from different countries, especially Italy, Belgium, Germany and Spain

Upon return to Boston, Tarbell, Paxton, Benson became teachers at the Boston Museum School. They were often classified as the American Impressionists, as they had their own regional style, combining the painterliness of Impressionism with a more conservative approach to figure painting and a marked respect for the traditions of Western art history. Their preferred subject matter was genteel: portraits, picturesque landscapes, and young women posing in well-appointed interiors. Major influences included John Singer Sargent, Claude Monet, and Jan Vermeer.
Because Hibbard was a native of the Boston area, it was only normal from attending Massachusetts State Normal Art School that he would continue his education at the Boston Museum School. He received a scholarship to travel to Europe and upon his return quickly made a name for himself. Aldro Hibbard was not only an artist but also an active citizen of the town of Rockport, Massachusetts.  This man of many seasons traveled to his 2nd home in Jamaica, VT, where he painted scenes of mountains, rural towns, oxen pulling logs, and streams with snow as the backdrop. Hibbard’s work has the legacy of a time in America of hardworking New Englanders. Hibbard was also a leader among the Cape Ann artists community who evolved a style of
painting known as the Rockport School.

Fast forward to explain my lineage. Another student of the Academie Julian and the Boston School was Robert Hale Ives Gammell (1893 – 1981).  Gammell was the teacher for Richard Lack who is known for continuing the atelier tradition in Minneapolis. My teacher Andrew Ameral at the Golden Gate Atelier, studied under Daniel Graves in Florence. Daniel studied with Richard Lack and Nerina Simi.  Ms. Simi was the daughter of the Florentine painter Filadelfo Simi, who had studied with Jean-Léon Gérôme, the head of the French Academy in Paris in 1870.  With such a rich backdrop of training in Florence my teacher, Andrew Ameral was the primary teacher of Anatomy and Ecroche and has returned to Oakland to carry on the tradition.  The family tree of art if you will. 5. R.H. Ives Gammell, Lamentation
This is quite the summary of name dropping and the education of many but it illustrates the continuum of training the eye. So when I drive around Vermont and hear that there’s a heroin problem it simultaneously breaks my heart and also fills my heart with gratitude that I was spared by my appreciation of art and nature. My fortuitous luck just took a loving family, curiosity and education for which I am very thankful.
When I contacted the Jamaica Historical Society one fine September day, I was driven to the exact spots where Aldro Hibbard painted.  I stood right where he stood.  I looked at the same views he looked at.  I wanted to tell him how I too love VT.  I wanted to tell him how I have carried on the French Tradition.   I need to get busy and paint and correct my Vermont paintings now. I have no excuses when Hibbard completed his paintings in subzero temps. “Just go out and do it, and “Work, Work, Work.” Benson would say.  Now that I’m back in my studio in California, I work from life but will have to use photos from Vermont even though I know my subject.  It’s ok being an artist in two different worlds as I enjoy the idea, through knowledge comes confidence. Next time you drive through a non-descript, one store town in Vermont, you might want to slow down and consider it’s world history.

Describe your path as an artist?
When I was in elementary school, I watched my uncle paint. I took art classes in high school. While I worked in engineering, I started painting and taking workshops around 1999. In 2005, I joined the OPA. I started my painting blog and started selling art in 2007. I started to teach workshops in 2008. I decided to become a full time artist, leaving my engineering job in 2011.
How would you describe your work to someone who’s never seen it?
Representational, Impressionistic.
 
What ideas do you explore in your work?
In my paintings, I like to explore design and the light effects which excite me in everyday life.

What do you want people to know about your work?
You can achieve extraordinary from the ordinary.
Where do you find inspiration?
I find inspiration from everyday observation, and looking at other artists’ work.
What artists inspire you?
Richard Schmid, David Leffel, Quang Ho.
What does a typical work day/week look like when you are working on your art?
If it is possible, I will paint in the morning and deal with art business issues and other things in the afternoon.
How do you prepare for a new project (process)?
I set my objectives first. Then I start painting. I document my process and ideas. I share my painting images and my thoughts through social media.

What is your next project?
I am working on my plein air painting skills.
What challenges do you face as an artist?
To get enough time to paint and learn.
What are your artistic goals?
To create better art.
Tell us something surprising about your creative process or your working style.
I consider my painting process as a type of scientific research.

Over the past few months, I worked hard at putting together 10-12 strong paintings for a two-person show at my gallery in Santa Fe. I did my best and felt proud of the work I presented all the while knowing that walking into a show right before a presidential election was unpredictable in sales outcome. While the show was well attended and many people handed out well-meaning compliments on the work, sales have been slow to come.
I suspect many artists feel embarrassed by the outcome of a poor sales show and struggle with the temptation to doubt their own artistic capability. Over the years, I discovered lack of sales does not name you as an artist. Quality does not always convert to sales. However, despite doing our best work, it is disconcerting when sales are low. Yes, it can be disappointing at first but then perspective comes to the rescue. I thought I would share some perspective I’ve gained from my process over the years for sluggish sales.

1. Don’t doubt yourself. It’s tempting to doubt your artistic capabilities when sales are slow and many artists find themselves grappling with this. One of the buffer’s I have found against this is putting quality at the forefront for producing your work. Showing only quality work is a rock you can stand on and gain confidence as an artist.
2. It has happened to the best and worst of us. A well-known master painter, who is a close friend of mine, use to sell-out his one-man shows before the opening night. Years ago, when he had another solo show, a fraction of his paintings sold despite his beautiful work. While disappointed, he had great perspective and said “it happens and I did my best but the paintings will eventually sell.”  And they did, it just took a while longer than the time frame of the show.

3. Change what is in your control. While there are things that are out of our control when selling our work, look at the things that are within your control. Having spent many years in advertising and marketing before my art career, I am well aware of the aspects of marketing that drive sales, and the hard work and effort to keep your name out in front of collectors. Staying connected to the art public means using the tools available to you: social media, print advertising, PR, email, blogs, and participation in credible regional, national and museum shows to build your brand. Lucky are those artists who do not have to do this work, but my experience is for most artists, even the most talented nowadays, it requires effort on both the part of the gallery and the artist to maintain exposure and visibility among collectors.
4. Let go of what you cannot control. Election years, stock market fluctuations, oil prices, downturn in the economy, violence in the world will always be with us in one degree or another. I’ve learned I cannot use the barometer of swaying winds in the art market to determine the outcome of who I am as an artist. I have to let that go and show up at the easel. The power of the easel can be the calm during a storm and my faith in God helps me to let go allowing the creative process to continue on. Deep breathing, massages, exercise and a lot of prayer along with pep talks among artist friends helps too!

5. Use a negative as a fulcrum for a positive outcome. I am that kind of person if you say I can’t do something, I set my course for figuring out how to do it, i.e. prove myself over again as an artist, taking action to sharpen my mechanics. I explore, stretch my skills and experiment in my work, scrapping lots of paintings and tackling an area in my work that needs strengthening. I find inspiration where it can be found and I dive into that, but mostly, I just keep painting!
“Be like an oak tree that weathers a storm. It may loose some limbs and leaves, but it is mostly in tack to live on and grow stronger,” from an unknown wise source.
Keep painting!

I grew up in a golfing family. After dinner, we’d all go out to a few holes before the sun went down. The sound of cleats on gravel brings memories of sunny days spent on the course, chasing a little white ball around. Recently I overheard someone say, “Well, plein air painting is the new golf…” and I couldn’t agree more.
Golf and painting are challenging and fun but they are also frustrating. In golf, some days you’re hitting the ball like a pro and other days you’re just shanking and slicing from the rough to the sand traps and back. Painters have the same problem: some days the stars align and the painting just flows. More often you’re struggling, desperately trying to get it on canvas. Both painters and golfers wonder who snuck into the garage at night and switched out all of our equipment.

The gods of both golf and painting play the same game with your head: when you’re just about to give up and throw your clubs in the lake or your paints in the trash, the gods give you a birdie or a sweet painting and pull you back in (think of Al Pacino in the Godfather). Painting has mental sand traps as challenging as the ones on the golf course. There are techniques for “getting out” but it takes lots of study and practice.
Weather is a factor. Both golfers and painters hate wind and rain. Some golfers use brightly colored balls to play in the snow. Some painters keep their white paint in their pockets so it won’t freeze in the snow. Both activities also require special umbrellas and clothing. Oh boy, an excuse to buy more stuff!
Lots of doctors and lawyers play golf and I’m meeting more and more doctors and lawyers in workshops. They’re focused, determined and have the latest top-of-the-line stuff. Men dominated both activities in the beginning, but now women want to be frustrated, I mean challenged, too.

Travel to new places is exciting for both golfers and painters. Vacations to golf courses all over the world are very popular. Then golfers gather at parties, drink and compare notes on the courses they’ve played. Artists love to travel to paint, drink and compare notes on where to find turpentine in foreign countries. Travel gear is a challenge for both activities. Golf clubs are bulky and may incur extra airline charges. Paints, tripods and other painting gear require special packing and cannot be carried on. Both groups hold their breath until their precious cargo appears on the baggage ramp at their destination. Phew–there’s my bag!
When I was growing up my parents used to joke that they were spending our inheritance on golf clubs, shoes and paraphernalia. There was always a new gadget or golf ball that would improve their game. An entire side of our garage was devoted to golf stuff. Painters have the same opportunity to taunt their kids with how much money they’re spending on “stuff.” Exciting conventions offer tempting new paints, brushes, view finders, frames and videos that will change our “game.”

My mom took golf lessons for 40 years. She would be convinced that each new golf pro was “the best ever” and was going to lower her handicap. (There’s a thought: why don’t artist’s have handicaps? it would make sense when signing up for workshops, entering shows, etc. “Artists with a handicap above 12 need not apply.”) Back to my mom: she took copious notes in little spiral notebooks, bought books by masters like Arnold Palmer and Gary Player, and watched golf TV on weekends. I have dozens of sketchbooks with workshop notes and, like my mom, am convinced that each new instructor’s palette choices, etc., are just what I needed to conquer the art. The painting videos are endless and serve 2 purposes: they instruct and entertain, just like the golf TV did for my folks. Unlike my parents’ golf TV shows, I can pop a DVD in or even download a YouTube demo any time I want, not just on weekends. (Here’s a personal note to my kids: you can toss it all when I’m gone.)

Clothing is a big deal. In golf, collared shirts are required at certain clubs and there are a variety of choices for golf gloves, lightweight windbreakers, the “newest” cleat- less shoes, golf hats, even golf socks. Compare that to the artist uniform: safari style shirts, hats, costly shoes that make it more comfortable to stand for hours, rubber gloves to keep your hands clean and chemical free. The one difference here is that golfers look clean and tidy and only have to remove their shoes to enter the house. Artists look like bums and transport paint on their clothes in unlikely places and manure and other goop on their shoes (depending on their plein air location of the day). After a day of painting they should strip to their underwear before entering anything but a cave.
Golfing buddies or artist buddies: if you’re lucky, you’ve got ‘em. The best friends will encourage you when you’ve had a lousy day and you’ll do the same for them. The shared experience, whether on the golf course or on a painting site will be revisited again and again. “Remember that time we…(were caught in a monsoon on the 9th hole…were chased by a bear while painting in Yosemite…)? Speaking of friends, golfing buddies or artist buddies, they’re the best!

Sunscreen is essential for both pursuits, but the most important thing the two “sports” share: it’s so much FUN! One day I asked my dad how he could play the same course three to four times a week without getting bored. He replied that every day was different: the ball landed in a different spot, the weather varied, he played with different friends. Well, painting is the same. Monet had his haystacks, Van Gogh had his rooms, Constable his skies. I can paint water every day and find a different, exciting view. I get it, Dad.
Whether you’re a professional or not, standing on the first tee looking out at a sea of green grass or you’ve set up your easel on a dock with a view of the Aegean sea, every beginning is filled with hope and the joy of just being out there in the fresh air. You smile at your buddies, pick up your driver or brush, and go for it.