IT'S BEEN QUITE A PATH

Before trying my hand as an artist, my paychecks came from the worlds of advertising and music. Both turned out to be highly applicable. Designing logos requires understanding the essence of a product, idea or organization, then expressing it in its most compelling graphic form. Effective copywriting entails the same creative skills. Yet I always knew that someday, when paychecks were no longer necessary, I would paint, write and compose simply for the love of it.

THOUGHTS ON TECHNIQUE

Applying paint manually via brushstrokes has produced remarkable art for centuries.  My wife, Karen, and I have had the good fortune to enjoy hundreds of hours gazing in awe in art museums and galleries all over the world.  But study a painting by Caravaggio, JMW Turner or John Singer Sargent and you’ll quickly realize that “it ain’t gonna get much better than that.”  Kind of deflating when you think about it.  Of course, the impressionists found plenty of new ways to keep things interesting and art has indeed continued to evolve, but I’d argue, so should technique.  Charcoal cave drawings were great, but oils on canvas sure stepped things up a notch.

The notion that accomplished artists simply throw paint at canvases in an inspired flurry makes for a good movie, but rarely is true.  Michelangelo continually revised preliminary sketches before ever using a drop of paint.  Even then, his brushstrokes covered detailed outlines he had transferred to his canvases.  Escher, van Gogh and Close are among the greats who frequently used drawing grids to guide their works.

We often listen to critics praising the texture of modern art, as if thickness was the determining factor of a painting’s merit.  If that’s the case, I’ll gladly accept a few of the now apparently passé two-dimensional masterpieces for my own collection… thank you.  Thick art is by definition sculpture, which is great in its own right.  Paintings instead express three dimensions in two.  Something I’m hoping to accomplish in every work.

As for manual brushes, I’ve never been good with them.  But controlling a digital brush with a mouse is something I’m somewhat proficient at.  Credit decades of graphic design for that preference.

I’ll never knock traditional techniques, but being a digital artist certainly has its advantages.  Your palette is endless.  Why use a single shade, when gradients and transparencies can produce colors fusing infinite tones and light?

It’s apparently a myth that da Vinci was capable of drawing a perfect circle by hand, but he definitely could come a lot closer than me. Digital artists can create perfect complex shapes, then shear them to portray depth. Want to do touchup, replace colors or radically change the size of a work? Digitally, anything is possible, without image degradation or burning your bridges. Best of all, I like to paint when we travel, something we do extensively. All I need is a laptop, although beer and tropical breezes help.

PERSONAL STUFF

As the requisite headshot on this page clearly portrays, I should probably be pondering my headstone by this point.  On it should be chiseled that I’m the product of amazing parents, grandparents and aunts, a kid from New Jersey who became a proud father and grandfather himself.  Most importantly, my headstone should indicate that I’m nothing without my wife, Karen, who although she shares the same birth year, appears to be of a far younger vintage.

If you enjoy any of my paintings, I’m humbled.  Truth is, I’m actually painting for myself… plus my grandkids, who I hope get the same kind of enjoyment when they create magnificent works of their own, or simply doodle.

If you want to discover artists far more accomplished than me, Google the works of a few of the friends I’ve been fortunate to meet along the way, including Karen E. Lewis, Mike Loney, Ivan Kelly and Michael Gibbons. Or, if you ever get the chance, try and find a canvas by Jeff Bensley, one of America’s great abstract artists, but little known, since he stubbornly has rejected any form of publicity.

MORE IMPORTANT STUFF

Artists typically are vague in describing their intentions and techniques.  Partly to let the art do the talking and partly to avoid frustration when buyers tell them: “I love your painting, but do you have something that will match my dining room?”

I have no such pride, or none I’ll admit to.  Every painting displayed on this website is accompanied by a written explanation.  Perhaps if I blatantly tell you what I hoped to portray, you may find some kernel of resemblance.  Which brings to mind my favorite Peanuts comic strip.  As they gazed towards the clouds and Linus was noticing visual parallels to the stoning of Stephen and the Apostle Paul, Charlie Brown wisely replied: “I was going to say I saw a ducky and horsie, but I changed my mind.”

If you change your mind and graciously decide that one of my paintings would look great in your dining room, gallery or museum (instead of uttering “he should have stuck to logos and jingles”), feel free to email Karen, who handles all of our business affairs. Here’s the link: karen@lutesadvertising.com Simply tell her which paintings you’d like signed limited editions of and what size canvases you’d prefer. How’s that for a shameless sales plug? Told you I started in advertising.