In Focus

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"IN FOCUS"

Dear Collectors, Welcome to ''In Focus,'' a publication of Catherine Kelleghan Gallery.  In Focus provides in depth interviews on gallery artists with upcoming exhibits, giving you insight to the stories behind the artwork and the artists who create them. You can read the current newsletter by clicking  above or scroll down to read the entire interview of each artist. Enjoy! Catherine

 

Interview with Dolores Justus

Interview with Dolores Justus ©2009 by Sara Robinson You make your home in Hot Springs, Arkansas.  How did you get to Arkansas from the Pacific Northwest? I was born in New Jersey and lived there for the first 2 years of my life, however all my family was from Oregon, and that's where my first memories of home come from. We lived in North Carolina for a short period before moving to Memphis, Tennessee.  I got married after my first year of college and moved to Little Rock, Arkansas where I finished my education.  We moved from Little Rock to Hot Springs where we currently live and have two great sons. When did you first have a hint that art might become a life passion? I've always made art.  All my life I spent hours drawing and painting. When I was in college, I worked at Dillard's department store in downtown Little Rock in their advertising department.  This was before computers were used in ad design and a good many of the staff were artists who would draw all the products and fashion features for the ads.  They let me help with different facets of the business, which was a great learning experience for my graphic design and agency work.  I'm also a big believer in that what you do as a career should be what you love the most.  I don't feel complete unless I make art on a regular basis.   In 1988 you graduated from the University of Arkansas with a BA in Fine Arts with an emphasis in graphic design, worked freelance and for an architectural firm, and eventually opened your own design and marketing firm where you employed your gifts as an artist and writer to assist businesses with public relations and advertising.  Was this a practical decision based on economic realities or were you equally passionate about graphic art?  Graphic design is certainly more practical than fine art, and I had learned something of the business from my experience at Dillard's.  If I could paint all the time, I would do just that.  I would probably write, as well, although I've really enjoyed my work in design.  There are a lot of experiences that I've had in that business that have contributed to my development as a painter.  You use color theory, perspective, and other tools that keep you grounded as an artist.  Also, in packaging a product for a client, I'm trying to find a creative way to get consumers to relate to that product.  I'm trying to create universal resonance.  It's the same when I paint. As a landscape artist, you seem to have developed a strong identification with the natural world.  Did it take you awhile to arrive at this place, or have you always been drawn to landscape?  I've always been focused on landscape.  My work starts with a natural inspiration, but I don't just want to copy the details of what I see.  I want to capture a feeling of place and objects in nature that interest me.  Ralph Waldo Emerson once compared the quality of his writing to the length of his walk on any given day. We need to get out of our houses and our cars and connect with nature to fulfill our roles as creative beings.   A lot of my work seeks to strengthen people's ties with nature, because I believe nature feeds us.  There is so much out there that sparks the imagination.  Ironically, I do better work in the studio, because I sometimes get into sensory overload when I'm painting outside. How has your work changed and evolved over the years?  I've recently gotten looser with my work, and a lot of that comes from trusting myself a little more and what I bring to the process as validation and not just how well I can replicate a thing. I learned an important lesson about trust in a sculpture class in college.  The professor was into conceptual or shock art, which was popular at the time. I was trying to do what I thought the professor would like and didn't follow my own instincts on a particular project.  It turned out that he didn't like what I produced on that project, and neither did I.  From then on, I've tried to create work that I like, and, then, I find that others usually respond to it as well.  I've found that when you try to please other people, your own work tends to result in work that lacks heart.  It's great to learn what your teachers have to teach, but in the end, you have to trust yourself. Your work is reminiscent of both traditional American landscape artists like Andrew Wyeth and some of the more contemporary painters who use impressionistic and abstract technique to communicate mood and emotion.  With whom do you most strongly identify?  I've always admired Andrew Wyeth.  His compositions are excellent.  He was a popular artist at a time when representationalism was deemed trite and unimaginative by many in the art world.  Wyeth was an alternative voice that suggested you can do things that are representational but that also have strong emotions associated with them.  He took a unique approach to his work.   I also greatly admire the work of Winslow Homer, along with many of the Impressionists, Abstract Expressionists, and contemporary artists.  In my own work, I like skating that line between representation and abstraction.   Can you talk a bit about your process when you begin a composition and discuss the stages you go through in developing a painting through its completion? I usually begin a concept for a painting by working from my own photographs, memory, or thought sketches gathered in journals.  I used to spend hours sketching on site, but now my drawings are very fast and crude.  After deciding what size and type of canvas I want, I start with an under-painting, so I'll have tonal constancy throughout the piece.  It's important to determine early on where I can keep transparent areas in the painting.  This technique creates a certain luminosity and depth that hard otherwise to achieve.  I then enter what I like to call the ''honeymoon phase'' where I use oil paint to sketch out the major forms or shapes.  This is a way of roughing out the initial idea with paint.  There's a lot of contrast at this point until I start defining things more.  Of course, each piece has different requirements, but I usually wait to the end to paint the opaque areas, because it's difficult to regain the light of the transparent areas, once you introduce the opaque paint. Your titles are often evocative of an inward, spiritual journey.  Are works like ''Finding Your Way,'' ''Becoming,'' ''The Universe at Our Feet,'' and ''Following Light'' meant to reflect your own personal journey or a more universal experience?  Both.  I don't want the title to be something that totally defines the work, but I do want it to serve as a pointer.  Not all of the titles are as thoughtful as others.  Painting is a very personal process, and that can be spiritual.  It's a way of communicating emotions I need to somehow express and work through.  Sometimes I have a feeling that just has to get out—to be expressed.  So much of oneself is involved in the process.  That's one of the scary things about showing your work.  It's pretty much your own journey.  As an artist, I always hope I'm reflecting a feeling or memory that can be understood universally. As a mid-career painter and director of Justus Fine Art Gallery, which you founded in Hot Springs, Arkansas in 2004, you have an impressive résumé including regional, national, and international exhibitions.   What legacy would you like to leave as an American landscape painter? I would like to be thought of as an artist who pursued her own vision and encouraged others to do the same.  I see so many artists that have abandoned seeking their own approach and view in their attempt to copy another person's style.  It hurts me to see that, because art can be so much more.  So many people don't trust themselves to do things a little differently—to stretch themselves.  I have a real purist view of art.  I believe it serves a unique and excellent purpose in our culture.  Artists should commit themselves to pursuing their own vision.  It's also very important to me that the paintings I produce have permanence.  I would love to think that 200 years from now the work would still be relevant. You have an upcoming solo exhibition of new works at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery.  What can you share about this body of work? I'm really looking forward to the exhibit.  I've been showing work with Catherine since she opened, and this will be my first solo exhibition there.  The title for the show is ''Coming up for Air'' and will feature the most recent direction of my work.   The landscapes are more loosely rendered and contain more abstracted natural forms along with stronger color palettes.  I will also include some of the more tonal pieces.  The underlying theme for all the work involves seeing the patterns and elements within the natural world that touch and inspire us.

 

Interview with David Swann

Interview with David Swann ©2009 by Sara Robinson You are an Atlanta-based artist and have made your home here for nearly 30 years.  Where else have you called ''home''?  I was born and raised in rural Pennsylvania. I lived a short period of time in Allentown, Pennsylvania, after graduating from college: and then moved to Augusta Georgia, in 1973, where I met my wife Michele. I moved to Atlanta in 1982 and have lived here longer than any other place—so yes, although I am not a native, Atlanta is my home. What role did art and artmaking play in your childhood and adolescence?  It didn't play an active role at all. I always enjoyed art and music—but not to the point where I was extremely active in either one. I was never encouraged to pursue art, even as an avid interest, although I did visit museums and art collectives from time to time.  I guess I was always somewhat ''creative'' or ''inventive'' growing up. After spending a summer in France and Spain and what was then East/West Berlin, I became hooked on surrealism and the ex-patriots. Art and the desire to participate in the process—even though I wasn't sure what the process was all about—slowly became a part of my life. You have undergraduate and graduate degrees in philosophy and have taught this subject at the university level.  What are the origins of this academic interest and do you see its impact on your work as an artist?  The summer I spent abroad during college had a huge impact on developing my interest in philosophy—as did the university I attended. I did my undergraduate work at John Carroll, a Jesuit university, in Cleveland, Ohio, where I was required to take a mandatory 12 hours of philosophy as part of my curriculum.  I figured as long as I had to take 12 hours, why not take another 2 courses and have add a third minor along with psychology and journalism to my sociology major. I went on to study philosophy in graduate school at Lehigh University, and my graduate thesis became ''The Function of Line and Contour in Modern Art,'' bringing together three disciplines within Lehigh University— psychology, fine arts, and philosophy. Through the process of critically deconstructing familiar paintings and other art works, I began to realize that I had, at least on a certain level, discovered what it was to construct them as well. Unlike many full-time artists, you have had success in commerce, working for many years as an executive in your family business and heading up your own successful graphic design and public relations firm.  Do you think business can be a place where the creative spirit can flourish?  Success is such a relative term. I never thought of myself as a highly successful business executive, but I did survive the experience with my humor still in tact.  And, yes; business can be a place where the creative spirit can flourish. Some businesses thrive because of the creative spirit; others are not so lucky.   For several years you were active in Georgia politics, serving in the state legislature.  Was this another creative outlet?  No. As trite as this might sound, the six years I spent in the Georgia legislature were truly years of social service. Georgia, especially Augusta, had been good to me.  It started to feel like home the minute I moved there.  I just wanted to return the favor. I had no personal desire for public office, and when I was asked to run for the legislature in 1976, I agreed to do it based on the promise that I would not be a career politician—and I kept that promise.   Your work is varied and is expressed in many different genres and media—sculpture, photography, watercolor, mixed media, and new forms of digital imaging.  What drives you to explore these art forms and how do you manage working in so many different areas?  I guess that's the Gemini in me—I am easily bored by easy or repetitive processes, so I like to explore different avenues. Whether I am equally successful in all the areas in which I work (or even modestly successful at any one of them) is truly a matter of interpretation and depends with whom you are talking. I've gotten some accolades, but I've also received my fair share of criticism for being ''all over the place.'' My need for variety is not fueled by a 'been-there, done-that' attitude; it is because I truly want to try different things.   You have described your studio as ''sterile, almost antiseptic,'' which is surprising given the richness and emotional warmth communicated in your work.  Can you explain this paradox?  When I initially described my studio as sterile, I was alluding to my studio, at that time, being largely comprised of three or four computers and an array of different sized computer screens and several ink jet printers. Now that I do mixed-media and other works on canvas, it has grown a bit more to look and feel like your contemporary artists' studio, but I am sure not nearly as chaotic as many you have seen. Sometimes I can work on several pieces at one time—even several totally different pieces in style and content, and sometimes I can only work on one piece at a time because of its content. When I am finished with a piece that may have been demanding or emotionally draining in its execution, I like to store it away—out of sight—so I can turn to my next piece free from its influence. In that sense, organizing the studio is somewhat of a cleansing exercise. (Note: it is an 'exercise' and not an 'exorcism.') Can you describe something of your philosophy and method of artmaking?  That really depends on the medium/media and the piece itself. I approach my photography in a much different way than I do my painting. Because I do a lot of surreal or manipulated images, some people don't realize that I also do a fair amount of ''straight'' photography. I'm working on two different portfolios as we speak: one is called ''Going Home'' – a black and white series that depicts homeless or otherwise socially-challenged people looking for closure by revisiting a place from their past that once gave them a sense of belonging. And the other portfolio, for which I don't have a working title, will be populated by black-and-white, almost erotic images based on the love sonnets of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Again, two dramatically different bodies of work drawing on two radically different sensitivities. Atlanta isn't your only home.  You and your wife, Michele, spend time each year at your second home in Pari, Italy, where you have a studio.  How does ''place'' impact your creative process?  Unfortunately, we don't spend as much time in Italy as we would like. But, whenever we go, I am energized by the whole experience of living in a small medieval hill town surrounded by historical artifacts and a culture that goes back well beyond the Etruscans.  Because we have a ''home base'' and because we are part of a real community, I don't think of going to that part of Italy as traveling, but I am still constantly inspired and enriched by the colors, the scents, the sounds, and of course, the people and their history.  Although I can be just as content and feel just as creative staying in one place, when I do travel, ''place'' does impact the creative process. Sometimes being in a different place (physically and/or emotionally) is a pleasant distraction that allows certain ''refueling'' processes to kick in. Sometimes it is not a distraction at all—but an ''attraction'' that provides just the right ''excuse'' to do that new thing or to try out a radically different approach. What can we expect to see at your next exhibition at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery?  Will you be presenting a new body of work?  Yes, we will be showing all new work in the main gallery and a few older works that have never been shown before in part of the back gallery.  Many of the pieces in ''A Brush with Photography: Surrealism Revisited'' are from another one of my on-going portfolios entitled In Search of the Elusive Magritte— a photographic/mixed-media exercise exploring the minimalist approach to creating 'mystery' while constructing a mild, sometimes admittedly meaningless social commentary.  In a way, this exhibition is my version of ''going home.'' By returning to my roots in surrealism, I am revisiting a place from my past that once gave me a sense of belonging.

 

Interview with Tamar Kander

Interview with Tamar Kander ©2009 by Sara Robinson You were born in Jerusalem, Israel—the Holy Land.  Is this the home of your ancestors? My father is Israeli and married my mother who is South African.  They moved to Jerusalem before I was born, and we lived there for the first few years of my life.  I am captured by the colours, light, and very ancient quality of much of that land, and it has inspired a series of paintings over the years. My Jewishness, however, is incidental, so I don't particularly attribute this connection to my religious heritage.  Being Jewish doesn't define the way I live or with whom I associate. Your accent is interesting.  Where else have you lived?  My family moved to South Africa when I was nearly 8 years old.  Johannesburg was an interesting, strange, and sad environment in those days under Apartheid.  Huge numbers of the population in the country were oppressed.  I simply never felt at home there.  Maybe for this reason and because both sides of my family are from Europe, I developed a strong desire to travel and study abroad.  I won an art scholarship in college and was given an opportunity to study in Italy.  I couldn't wait to get to Europe!  In fact, I loved it so much I determined to limit my graduate applications to European universities and very much enjoyed my time studying painting and art therapy in London. When did you first begin to feel the stirrings of your inner artist?  One of the first memories I have was the time I was in bed sick in my little room in Jerusalem and began to amuse myself by painting on the walls.  I was only about 3 or 4 and, naturally, my mother was frustrated by this behavior.  She and my father were very open and supportive, so they promptly provided me with reams of paper and a blackboard, so I could properly channel my creative urgings.  They always praised my work regardless of the quality, which was lovely but didn't prepare me for the real world.  It's strange how I always seemed to excel at art and win prizes in spite of the fact that I never had any particular ambition. I remember at 6 or 7 having one of my drawings entered into some sort of contest, and my prize for winning was a Beatles album.  I told my mother that I didn't really like The Beatles, and they traded it for something like ''Old McDonald Had a Farm.'' You received a BA in Fine Arts from the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa, an MFA from Goldsmiths, University of London in England, and attended the Art Students League in Manhattan.  That's quite a bit of art training.  How has your education impacted your work?  The impact has been tremendous.  I really believe that an artist must learn his craft.  I mean, if you're going to be a writer, you need to learn the language.  As an undergraduate, I had to take history, literature, and all the other courses.  I think this sort of education rounds you out.  In art classes at university and beyond, I learned as much from the other students and their work as I did from the professors.  Of course, the criticism would sometimes be confusing.  One instructor would say, ''You're using too much orange;'' and another, ''I love the way you use orange.''  At some point I learned to assert myself and say, ''This is what I'm doing, and it works.'' Art is the one area where I don't have a problem asserting myself.  You have to be pretty tough.  You learn to trust a few people's opinions, but you have to detach and, ultimately, do what you want.  It's walking a tightrope between absorbing what you need to absorb and maintaining your own autonomy.  I'm also glad I didn't have any formal training until the age of 15, when I began studying with one of the university professors on Saturdays.  He was a very strict Italian man who wouldn't let you progress to a higher level until you had become proficient at certain elementary skills.  All this training was very good for me, and I loved the challenge.  I never felt overly influence, or molded in a particular direction, and refused to do what I did not want to. Your MFA is in painting and art therapy.  What is art therapy and have you pursued this field professionally? I'm so glad I got this degree because as a result I grew so much as a young woman.  Art therapy is focused on the inside—an individual's interior experience; whereas, studio art is more focused on developing skills and results.  I was one of the only students from a studio art background.  The others were mostly grounded in the social sciences like psychology and sociology.  Art therapy—using artmaking as a tool for healing—was very liberating. I learned a lot about myself.  After graduate school, I returned to South Africa and practiced art therapy for a few years in conjunction with a team of physicians, nurses and psychologists associated with a hospital.  I enjoyed the work but found it incredibly absorbing, taking too much energy from my painting.  I really wanted to be a painter, and knew I would need all my psychic energy for that pursuit.  I have always been fortunate that from a very young age I have been able to attract good representation and sell my work.  I also dabbled in vintage clothing during the 1980s and had a professional relationship with the buyers for Ralph Lauren and several other stores who were incorporating vintage fashion into their lines. I could get by without a supplemental career and I did, but there were certainly ''salad days'' along the way. Your artist statement is intriguing.  You describe your work as neither figurative nor abstract but, rather, a ''metaphor for experience.'' Can you elaborate on this idea? It's so hard to talk about the way I work, and yet it is simple. I like to use the metaphor of jazz music to explain my approach.  In fact, I've done a series of jazz paintings inspired by my attraction to this genre.  Jazz is based on improvisation and just swirls around in your mind and your head during and after you've heard it.  When I'm painting and thinking about the experience of listening to jazz, somehow it just comes out onto the canvas.  Another example involves being in nature.  I used to live in a flat, urban environment but now have a house in a lush, forested area of Indiana.  There's a small lake on the property I see everyday, and I've found myself starting to use colors I've never used—muted greens and blues, for example.  The experiences of living in nature just began creeping in and impacting my work.   The materials and media you use to create your compositions are highly diverse and, even, somewhat unconventional.  For example, how did you come up with the idea of using dry wall compound and marble dust in your mixed-media work? The way I work involves always feeling like there is a carrot dangling out in front of me.  It's like something's just waiting to come out.  I know inside what I want to create, and I just have to find the appropriate materials.  Many of the painters who have influenced me do highly tactile work, and I like this.  Of course, I've learned the hard way what materials actually work and have long-term integrity and those that do not.  Learning how to introduce these materials in a way that actually works takes time and experimentation. There is a need for the application of various added and collaged elements to have some measure of stability and longevity.  On the other hand, I sometimes think there's too much cultural preoccupation with youth and preservation.  I'm aging, and so can my work.  Why can't it yellow and fade a bit?  I have fun with the materials I use.  I wouldn't paint if I wasn't having a ball.  I feel completely free and in my element when absorbed in my work.  I could not be luckier. Your work has an intensely spiritual, other-worldly quality.  It seems almost egoless.  Would you agree? Well, I have an ego; that's for sure, but when I'm creating, I'm taken out of my experience.  I don't strive to do this; it just happens.  The paintings come through me, but I'm also stepping aside to allow space for their passage.  Like giving birth to a child:   it comes through the mother but retains its own identity.  My favorite way of working is to work through a painting until I feel it's finished.  I, then, put it away and revisit it the next morning.  At that point, I might turn it upside down to disassociate a bit from the composition.  This way I can more clearly see what, if anything, needs to be added or removed.  Sometimes images come to me and have to sit awhile before they are born.  There's a period of incubation.  In this way, the image is either strengthened or discarded based on its value. You have written that your work is ''constantly evolving, not in a linear way, but more like a spiral at the foundation of which is my individual thumbprint.''  Can you give an example of how this evolution occurs? I go through stages with different images and ideas.  I usually haven't finished a painting, when the next one has started.  I like to work in series and come up with a theme—sometimes before and sometimes after.  When revisiting a theme, which I often do, I'm returning but always improving on it.  Each painting and each phase very naturally lead on to the next.  This is probably why my work is recognizable from stage to stage and year to year. Later this year you will have a solo-exhibition of new works at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery.  Is there a theme or through-line in this body of work? I'm currently too much involved in the work to talk about it.  The best thing for me to do when working on a series or new body of work is to look at a group of paintings together after they're finished, and then begin to see connections—a beginning point and the influences that led to the creation of the work.  I might also be able to pick up the mood and nuances and feelings that were a part of the process.  In school we were told that being able to articulate the work was important—that we should be able to write an essay on what we're trying to do.  At some point, I would agree, that it's good to talk about the work and give viewers a frame of reference—a window through which they can clearly see the artist's intention.  I'm just not sure that needs to be done before or during the process of creating the work.

 

Interview with Sara Claire Chambless

Interview with Sara Claire Chambless ©2009 by Sara Robinson You were born on August 25, 1989.  That makes you 19—almost 20—and you have been a working artist for over two years.  That's pretty amazing.  How did this come about? I was always a creative person, but my creativity never manifested itself in disciplines where there were strict rules.  Most of the visual arts instructors I encountered in school were assignment and rule-based in their approach.  The International Baccalaureate curriculum I chose in high school allowed me to let my art take whatever shape it would naturally take.  I was allowed to create my own style. I explored a wide range of genres including pastel portraits, geometric masks, and abstract figurative watercolors before discovering mixed media.  I realized I had proficiency in all these areas, but the mixed media pieces were more compelling and felt more authentic.  My work requires a media through which I can speak with the most clarity.  I create non-objective, formalist paintings informed by subconscious choices driven by my intuition.   You were born in Houston and lived there until 2000, when you moved to Atlanta.  What was your exposure to art and artmaking in your early years? I spent my childhood in a cosmopolitan environment and went to school with children of highly educated parents from diverse cultural backgrounds.  Houston is the fourth largest city in the country and offered a plethora of artistic experience.  My parents were keenly aware of the importance of exposure to the arts at a young age and regularly took me to the symphony, ballet, opera, theater and museums.  Art was a priority in my family, and my curiosities were fed You sold your first paintings at 17 when you were just a junior in high school.  How is academic art; that is, the art you're required to create as a student, different from the fine art you create for sale to the public?     Everything I create is fine art and always has been.  I would never sell anything that was an exercise designed at mastering a technique, just as I would never change my style to cater to current trends in art.  My journals are the place where I practice and experiment—not the canvas.  They are my academic art, and they're not for sale. You chose Davidson College, an academically rigorous liberal arts school, over a conservatory like Parsons or Rhode Island schools of design.  What was involved in this decision and how does your study of liberal arts and the humanities impact your work? I am compelled to paint because I am filled with strong emotion, which needs to find a vehicle for release.  This emotional buildup is the result of being moved by studying the humanities:   literature, history, music, philosophy, and the arts.  If I was in a conservatory, I would only have my own experience from which to draw, and my life is too small to inspire universal resonance As an artist, I must allow myself to become a sponge and absorb ideas and emotional energies, so I can transfer them onto the canvas.  In this way, my work becomes a bridge from the immaterial world to the material.  In some ways, the artist documents the feelings of the age.   How do you achieve balance in your social, academic, and professional pursuits as a full-time student at what US News and World Report calls the ''#1 grind school'' in the country? My art comes first.  It's been hard to accept this fact, but it's getting to the point where it's impossible to ignore.  I'm fortunate at Davidson, because we have an amazing Visual Arts Center that is isolated from the rest of the canvas.  The VAC is where I am an artist in my creative world, and the other side of Main Street is where I enjoy my everyday reality.  Social life is important.  I feed off of it.  Interactions with friends provide inspiration for my work.  Academics are important but cannot come in conflict with my primary passion.  I realize an undergraduate degree is essential to establishing credibility, but art is my life.   In your Artist Statement you say:  ''I want my pieces to be a mirror for the observer, reflecting back his own passion and emotional experience.''  Can you elaborate on this statement? I try to be as honest with my paintings as I can.  I want to avoid building a wall between myself, as artist, and the viewer.  I strive to convey my own perceptions of the world and my own ideas in a subconscious outpouring, so people don't have to fake it when they look at the painting.  They can be real with the art, because the art is being real with them.  The work is a mirror in the sense that it, hopefully, allows one to be more authentic in his/her response.   You have received accolades for your work from high-profile artists and collectors and have had regional, national, and international press exposure.  How has this attention impacted your life and work?   Art is such a vulnerable thing—especially when it's so open and you never know what's going to come out.  When you put it out there and say ''look at this,'' it's kind of scary. You don't know how it's going to be received.  When individuals or media representatives have positive reactions to the work without me explaining it or telling them what to feel, it validates the fact that I'm not just throwing paint on a canvas.  I'm doing something unique that no one but I can do.  On a personal level, there are drawbacks to developing a public persona.  People in our society are so desperate to identify with creativity.  They want that feeling of excitement that I experience when I'm affected by great art.  Often, they project this thirst for creativity outward and try to latch on to the artist.  Then conversation becomes more about the creator than that which is created.  This is the reason I sign each piece on the side and back of the canvas, rather than the front.  I don't want the signature, which represents me, as artist, to compete with or disrupt the composition. You have described your process as an ''intuitive response'' to the various elements of art.  Can you give an example of how you work when you begin a painting?   Usually an emotional energy will build up as a result of some impression I've received in my everyday life.  I like to capture that emotion with a particular song or instrumental music I record on my IPod.  Then, I go into the studio and stand in front of the canvas and my materials, put the song on repeat, and listen endlessly while working. The music keeps me rooted in the emotion, and I work quickly, so I won't forget what I was feeling when I began.  I usually put in 12-14 hours over 2-3 days, finishing a piece before I move on to the next one.  It's that idea of ''spontaneous outpouring'' until the piece is complete. Your work is unique among contemporary abstract artists in your use of mixed media to create a textural, almost bas relief, quality to the canvas.  You've also opened the canvas in places and then stitched parts of these openings.  What is your inspiration for these innovative techniques?   It just comes to me.  It intuitively seems like what should be done.  I've never seen this kind of work before either, but it feels right.  I've never had a sense about what I can and cannot do.  It's the way I live my life.  I've never been one to follow rules.  In fact, I've never really known the rules.  That's why I hate doing academic art. You and sculptor, Gustavo Torres, will be opening the 2009-2010 season at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery with an exhibition of new paintings entitled ''Veritas:  Movement toward Truth.''  What themes or concepts were you exploring in this body of work?   ''Veritas'' is Latin for ''truth'', and this body of work is about reaching a higher truth.  It's about deciphering a code and figuring out what it means.  Finding that ''ah-ha'' moment—understanding our role in it all without an esoteric plot.  Accepting that we don't have a story, and that's okay.   We can just be.  This theme is definitely something I see in Gustavo's work, as well. The texture of his sculptures is eternal.  It's as if they've always existed.  Because I've always seen this in his work and now in my own, it's natural that we should exhibit together.  Both of our work is so textural, it looks great together.  If you were to cut open one of my paintings, you might just find one of his sculptures hiding inside.

 

Interview with Gustavo Torres

Interview with Gustavo Torres ©2009 by Sara Robinson You were born in 1967 in Guadalajara, Mexico in the state of Jalisco.  Guadalajara has long been known as both an ancient and culturally progressive city attracting a diverse population of educators, software executives, musicians and artists.  How did growing up in such a culturally rich environment feed your desire to become an artist? The geography of my city really helped a lot.  To be connected to all the art, the museums, the concerts, and architecture was definitely something special for me.  From a very early age, perhaps 5 years-old, I knew I wanted to be a sculptor.  This was a gift for me to always know what I wanted to do with my life.  My father was a banker, and there were no artists in my family, so I had to push my parents to show me things.  Of course, my father was practical and thought I should become an architect, but when he saw my dedication, he accepted my decision to be an artist. When you were just 12 years-old, you became an apprentice to sculptor, Luis Larios.  How did this come about and what were the lessons you learned? When I was a boy, there was a program in Guadalajara called Art in the Parks, where local artists would come and teach children who were interested in painting, drawing, or sculpture.  My mother met Luis Larios at a park and told him I wanted to be an artist.  He said, ''Okay.  He can work for me.''  For 7-10 years I went to his studio 2 days a week and during the summers and did anything he needed.  I cleaned his brushes and tools and generally observed him and the way he conducted his art business.  He worked for churches and created religious art, because they would pay artists for their work.  On my own I did a lot of little nativities and figurines and was just practicing all the time. You attended the prestigious Universidad de Guadalajara, one of the world's oldest universities, where you ultimately received a BFA.  What were these years like for you in your development as an artist?  It was the best time of my life. I couldn't wait to get out of high school where I wasn't a very good student.  My grades were terrible, but I always managed to pass!   Art school was like heaven for me.  I was really anxious to take my first sculpture class, but I also did a lot of drawing, watercolor, oil, and pastels.  I learned all about anatomy and color theory, and these skills are very important to me in my work today, especially when I'm working with applying patinas.   Every patina now is like putting colors on my canvas.   What brought you to the United States and when did you make this move? I came to visit one of my uncles in California and assumed I would return to Mexico.  Then, I had a chance to work in a foundry, which was an opportunity to apply what I had learned in college.  In school they teach a lot of theory, and working in a foundry was an opportunity to learn the whole process of making casts.  It was the best experience in my life as an artist, because it allowed me to learn what I needed to know to stay very involved in every stage of my work from beginning to end.  Other artists didn't understand why I wanted to work in the foundry.  It's tedious and hard and, even, dangerous.  I can't understand why they wouldn't want to do this kind of work.  It's a humbling experience and makes you respect what the workers have to go through in helping you create a piece. Your work has often been compared to renowned Swiss sculptor, Alberto Giocometti, but you give much of the credit for your style to the Nuns of Guadalajara whom you say had a great impact on your early art education.  What did they teach you? It's not that they were my teachers; it's more that they helped and supported me.  I think they realized my passion and wanted to give me what I needed to create.  They would make special clay for me and provided me with emotional support.  I have good memories of the school and remember each of my teacher's names going back to kindergarten.  Of course, being associated with Giocometti is an honor, because he was a master, but I have created my own work that is different from his.  Unlike Giocometti, my work doesn't represent a specific culture but, rather, all people and places.  I like to think it's universal.   You have explored many subjects in your sculptures but seem to come back to the human figure—especially women.  These female figures seem less like the modern anorexic model of beauty found in fashion ads and are reminiscent more of real women with curves, imperfections, and the ability to give birth.  They are also goddess-like.  Have you taken inspiration from early fertility sculptures like the ''Venus of Willendorf?''  Definitely.  That was one of the first artifacts representing Mother Earth.  Going really primitive means having an appreciation for women like my mother, my grandmother, my daughter and all the gifts they have given to me.  I don't usually use models.  I prefer to just operate from memory.  It's funny how it works.  My feelings just tell me what to do, and I flow.  I like to keep things simple and catch the essence of what I see.  It gives me a lot of freedom.   Sculptures, especially large bronze pieces, seem like they would be expensive and physically labor intensive to produce.  Can you discuss the process you have to go through in creating and shipping one of your larger works? You're right.  The process is very labor intensive. To begin, we make a rubber mold from the original.  Then, we make a replica in wax.  The wax is coated with a heavy ceramic shell and is melted out, leaving the ceramic shell.  This has to be strong enough to contain the bronze, which is poured into the shell at 2200 degrees.  This procedure is called the ''lost wax process.''  After the ceramic shell is removed, the bronze is cleaned, and the patina is applied. When it comes out, the color has to be just right, or it has to redone.  All of this is very expensive and involves a lot of workers at the foundry.  Then, the pieces have to be shipped to the galleries.  The average price for materials and shipping is 25% of the total cost and 50% goes to the gallery.  Sculptures are also more complicated and expensive than painting on canvas. The process you describe sounds like it involves a lot of people.  Do you work with others, then, besides just yourself?  Oh, yes; definitely.  The process is very collaborative.  I have a great relationship with my team at the foundry, Monterey Sculpture Center, near my studio, which is actually in an airplane hanger.  I always ask for advice about how to make my compositions simpler and less complicated for the team, while still retaining my overall vision.  I also have a lot of experience working in the foundry, and they rely on me to help them out by working with them side-by-side.  We respect each other and treat each other right.  It is a gift the way they allow me to be there on site and do my work. You have said of your work, ''I try to incorporate the five senses in all my works as well as the sixth sense—the spirit.  Art without spirit is nothing.''  What does spirit mean to you, both personally and as an artist? The spiritual connection is something that grabs you and makes you feel connected to the artwork.  I put my spirit into everything I create.  It's not religious. I'm not talking about God.  It's the connection that we all have spiritually.  It's a simple connection.  If I had to say it in religious terms, I would have to describe it more as a philosophy or Zen. In September 2009 you will open the season at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery with a two-person exhibition with abstract painter, Sara Claire Chambless.  What can we expect to see at this show? You will see whatever Catherine thinks is appropriate to include with this young painter's work.  When I first saw Sara Claire's work, I really liked it, and when I met her, I was really surprised to discover how young she was.  I am always honored to show with another artist.  It's incredible to see how our art compliments one another.  Sara Claire's work is also very dimensional and our colors are matched well.  I think it will be an interesting exhibition.  Catherine is good at putting the art and artists together, I think.

 

"IN FOCUS" INTERVIEW WITH WILLIAM DUNLAP William Dunlap

Interview with William Dunlap Copyright © 2009 by Sara Robinson You were born on January 21, 1944...not quite a baby-boomer...and I detect a southern accent.  Where were you born? I was born in Webster County in North Central Mississippi where the Natchez Trace crossed the Big Black River. My people came there from Virginia and the Carolinas after the Treaty of Dancing Rabbit Creek circa 1835. They farmed, preached, practiced law, medicine and politics.    Southerners are raised with a keen attachment to their family's past and history in general.  Your work seems to be a reflection of this.  Does this ring true for you?  Yes indeed, there's an unconscious mingling of one's personal history and the literature and history of the region. As to what I do, I've always been more influenced by writers than painters – how they work and solve problems. And then there is the land, and its constant call to the artist, be he painter or poet. I've lived in the Southern Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, Northern Virginia, New York City and South Florida, but when it comes to the South – the real South – I'm fond of saying, ''You can go away, but you can't get away.'' When did you first become interested in art and where did you find your support for pursuing art as a career?  I wanted to be an artist before I knew what one was, and my family—to their everlasting credit—were most supportive. It just was assumed I'd go to college and ''amount to something.'' After Ole Miss, I taught at Appalachian State and Memphis State before stepping out into the market place, and have never really looked back. Your professional life and body of work is very creative and varied.  You've kind of gone outside of the box with your career choices.  Was this intentional?   I have an insatiable eye and am curious about everything. As a young artist I staked out a lot of territory – painting, drawing, sculpture and printmaking, photography, video and performance art as well. So, I don't feel at all constrained, but for me it all does come back to the landscape. In your exhibition ''In the Spirit of the Land'', you bring paintings together with sculptural constructs to, in your words, ''provoke a dialogue between the perceived historical past and the critical concerns of our current time and place.''  How does this concept of dialogue work in your art?  I'm an inveterate collector of charged objects – things that seem to speak, have a history of their own, an association with the painting I might be working on – so it seems to be the natural thing to put them all together in these construction. I've been making them since the late 1960's. You do a 45 minute interactive performance art piece called ''Dialogue/Monologue/Travelogue/Hollow Log''.  What was the impetus behind this work?  Well, it's the same. I surround myself on stage with a variety of objects that I talk about, demonstrate or partake of (the hollow log in question contained a bottle of Jack Daniels).  It's all rather irreverent but much in the tradition of Art World Performance Art – amateur but enthusiastic. You have also been involved in arts commentary on a TV show called ''Around Town'' on WETA out of Washington, DC.  Do you enjoy getting in front of the camera?  My involvement with Public Television in the Washington, DC area for the past two decades has been nothing but a pleasure – a pure self-indulgence, working with first rate talent and technicians – but what I do is an extension of the aforementioned Performance Art. It's not criticism, or even reviewing, but a chance to talk about other people's work from the point of view of the artist, to bring empathy into the conversation and get people off the couch and come and see the work for themselves. You have exhibited at some of the world's most prestigious venues, including New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art.  How did it feel for a southern boy from a small town in Mississippi to achieve such a feat?  I've been most fortunate that a number of respected institutions own my work. That's gratifying, but no more so than the knowledge that individuals – many of whom I do not know - own my work and look at it everyday. It matters to them, and that matters to me. Every artist has his/her own way of working.  Can you describe something of your process?  I've kept journal/sketchbooks since grad school. I continue to peruse them for ideas and concepts I might exploit. I make countless photographs – always have a cameral with me. Any visual stimulus is a valued one. I generally work on several pieces simultaneously, given there's a high rate of attrition in my work. This tends to minimize the loss. Art can be dangerous work – to both the spirit and the fingers. You're a family man, living with your wife, artist Linda Burgess, and your 13 year-old daughter, Maggie Dunlap.  Tell me about the collaborative work you're doing?  Well, I've of late come to the humbling conclusion that I'm the third best artist in my family. My wife, Linda Burgess, has always been a gifted painter whose last New York exhibition was made while she was pregnant with our daughter, Maggie. After a decade hiatus, she came back to the studio with a vengeance. As for Maggie, all children are artists – up to a point. And seeing both parents make art seems to have granted her permission to do the same. She illustrated a children's guide to the Mississippi Museum of Art at 10 and has been hard at it ever since. At the suggestion of a gallery owner we three first exhibited together in the fall of 2008 and have done so a half dozen time since. It is, needless to say, satisfying on a number of levels.

 

"IN FOCUS" INTERVIEW WITH STEVE FRENKEL Steve Frenkel

Interview with Steve Frenkel Copyright © 2009 by Sara Robinson You're a Midwesterner from Detroit, Michigan.  Is that where you were born?  That's right.  My whole family is from Detroit.  My grandparents were Jews who immigrated to the US from Russian occupied Poland and Hungary before World War I.  I love Detroit but find it painful to return, because I've now lost my parents and my identical twin brother to whom I was very close. When did you first experience artistic stirrings?  Since as long as I can remember.  Dad was a printer and always had reams of paper around the house.  I'd often carry a stack to our living room and draw while lying prone on the carpet.  I have memories of drawing before the age of 5.  I must have had some natural talent, because I was always singled out in school as the 'art guy'.   Did you get support for your creative life at home and school?  Not always.  One of my art teachers made an off-hand comment to my parents that they shouldn't spoil me by sending me to art school.  My dad must have really tuned into that comment and wouldn't let me attend the prestigious Cass Technical High School in Detroit, although I was willing to take two buses to get there.  He was like most hard-driven men of his generation and simply said, ''Artists starve!'' when I told him I'd like to become a painter.   I did end up attending the University of Michigan, where I studied graphic design.   Why did you choose to major in graphic design over studio art in college?     Graphic design was the closest art-related major I could find that would allow me to support a family and keep my father happy.  I graduated with honors and was awarded a top internship with a prestigious advertising firm between my junior and senior years.  Later on they offered me a job in their research department, but I turned them down.  I got married and started working in sales and marketing for a paper manufacturer in Kansas and, later, moved back home to Detroit.   So, you weren't able to initially fulfill your desire to become an artist?  Well, you have to understand that I wanted to paint but had been convinced I needed to stay in paper and publishing to make a living.  I did begin making postal art in the 1980s as an avocation and was published in a number of limited edition magazines.  In 1984 my brother and I were in a serious car accident and were both badly injured.  The accident really woke me up!  It finally occurred to me that I might not live forever and that it was time to begin following my heart.  I was working as a graphic designer for a non-profit at that time and had to take a leave of absence for several months.  Shortly after returning to work I opened my own studio and worked independently until 1998.  I began to paint in the late afternoons and on weekends.  I would haunt art galleries, attending lectures, reading books, and learning as much as I could about the business.  After my Dad died in 1990, I began moving toward becoming a fine artist.   At this point, my mom was very supportive of my work. After my divorce from my first wife in 1997, she provided encouragement and some financial support, allowing me to pursue painting on a full-time basis. When did you begin to consider yourself a professional artist?  I suppose in the early 80s when I entered into my first gallery relationship with a place in Atlanta called KoolHipFunkyStuff.  After that gallery closed, I got involved in a cooperative arrangement called Ariel Gallery at Tula Arts Center.  When it closed, I went with a great little space, Opus One, and also started showing in Knoxville, TN at Hansen Gallery and in Chapel Hill with Steinway.  I've been really lucky to have people interested in my work.  One collector has 21 of my paintings and is still acquiring them.  I've also had some celebrity sales, including the actor, Christopher Lloyd of Back to the Future fame and a former Prime Minister of Pakistan.  People have always been willing to represent me and publish my work, which feels really good considering how long it took me to get started. How hard was it to start your career in your mid-forties? It wasn't easy.  It took a lot of inner work and determination.   I always believed in myself and knew that I had a lot of potential.  I've been fortunate that my wife makes a good living and is very supportive of my career.  I also make sure to network with other artists.  In the early days, I joined an art club in Roswell, GA and heard an art consultant named Catherine Hoppe speak.  She really inspired me and was later instrumental in getting me my first big exhibition in the lobby of the Galleria 300 building in Atlanta.  I've also worked really hard and produced over 375 paintings in the last 18 years.  At some point, I realized that if a person shows up in his life and follows his passion, life will show up and support him.   Has your work evolved stylistically over time?  Oh, yes; of course.  I've been painting since I was a kid, and I'm 67 years old!  What's interesting is I'm painting the paintings now; I wanted to paint when I was a kid.  Imaginary scenes come out of my dreams, which are both whimsical and surreal.  Houses, roads, and objects appear that have no relationship to reality but are very real to me.  Style is what happens because of the way you think and work.  I am influenced by great painters—Saul Steinberg is my favorite—but I can't imagine ripping off someone else's work.  When people ask me to categorize myself as a painter, I tell them I'm 'idiosyncratic'.  My work doesn't really fit any other mold. Do you enjoy working with certain media over others? I've used just about everything—pencil, charcoal, oil, watercolor.  Right now I'm enjoying Chroma Interactive Acrylics.  I like that their drying time is much more controllable than traditional acrylic paints, and I don't have to wait a few months to apply varnish.  I'm really happy with the palette I'm using in the series I'm developing for my upcoming exhibition at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery.  The materials are allowing for a lot of creativity and the results are satisfying. You're clearly passionate about art.  What other passions feed you?  Photography is a hobby, and I love to read.  Mainly fiction.  Mysteries are a favorite genre.  I've always loved classical music and, in more recent years, the opera.  But I listen to a lot of jazz, blues, country, and rock, as well.  When I was working in Columbus, OH in the 1970s, I took two adult ed. writing courses with author, Sue Grafton.  At that time she was relatively unknown.  After the second class session in the first course, she bumped me into the advanced group.  I guess I wasn't half bad! What matters most to you in your art-making?  What matters most is being true to myself—being real.  Making the art that really wants to come out and not art to follow the trends.  I don't need to be concerned about what's going to please other people, but it's always nice if I do!

 

"IN FOCUS" INTERVIEW WITH BARRETT EDWARDS Barrett Edwards

Interview with Barrett Edwards Copyright © 2009 by Sara Robinson You have a unique name for a woman, Barrett.  What is its origin?  Barrett is a family name, after my paternal great-grandmother.  My birth name is Cynthia Barrett Edwards.  'Cynthia' never fit, so I shortened it to 'Barrett' in my late 20s.  I come from a long line of artists, including my great-grandmother, Barrett, grandmother, and mother.   Where were you born and educated?  I was born in Chicago and lived there until the age of eight.  We then moved to a small town in the piedmont region of NC, a small town called Jamestown.  That's where I learned to talk Southern.  I can still pick it back up, when I get together with my southern cousins.  I was educated in the south at East Carolina University, where I majored in English.  In my family words and word games were very important.  We read and wrote a lot.  My father had an advertising agency, and the intellectual life was very important. What role did art and art making play in your early life?  My mother is a professional artist, as well as, my maternal grandmother, so I was immersed in art from an early age.  Creativity was alive in our home.  The first time I remember painting was at the age of six.  I sat down with my mother, and she showed me how to use watercolors.  Later, I learned about pastels and went through a period in my early career where these media were very much a part of my work.  My mother was also an art teacher and was very supportive.  She kept a scrapbook of nearly everything I created throughout childhood and adolescence. When did you become a working artist?  I lived and worked in Washington, DC after college, where I exhibited and sold my art, but it was not really a career tract for me at that time.  I liked to think of it as more of an adjunct to my writing career.  I was a speech writer for the Pentagon, writing for Donald Rumsfeld and James Schlesinger at one point, and worked for the CIA in both covert and overt operations.  After my husband retired, we moved to Paris, and it was there that I realized I could make painting a full-time career.  I was asked to exhibit a series of watercolors, and was pleasantly surprised when the entire show sold out.  From there, my work was accepted into the prestigious Salon d'Autumne at the Grand Palais and several other important exhibition venues in France.  All of this gave me the confidence to move into the next phase of my life as a professional artist. Your most recent work appears to be focused on landscape and place and is quite representational for a contemporary artist.  How has your work evolved throughout your career?  My work has evolved gradually.  I like to think of it as a journey of exploration, helping me to discover who I am as an artist.  I need to know what it is that feeds my soul.  As I said, I started out working in watercolor and pastel.  These pieces were representational for the most part.  I did some abstract work for awhile, working in acrylic and mixed media and exploring collage.  All of this work was amazing and fun, but ultimately did not fit with my concept of who I was as an artist.  When I began travelling to France each year to work en plein air, I found my true home as a painter.  Exploring French themes in Provence and other parts of the country, freed me to discard the earth tones that had become so familiar in my work.  I began to take a more  painterly approach to each piece, working with a limited palette, making a conscious effort to work with the elements of color, light, and emotion to capture the nuance of a landscape in a given time and place.  Working in this way leads to a complete absorption with the act of painting.  It is as if I enter a mystical bubble, where the emotion of the place I'm painting can be sustained.  When I'm in my studio, I can achieve this same effect by hooking up my IPod to headphones and listening to music that captures the emotion I'm seeking to convey in the painting.  This practice allows me to move out of the intellectual realm and into my heart, the seat of my emotions.  When I'm immersed in music or the sensations of my physical surroundings, I am able to allow a subconscious sense of expression to come forward. Your current work is oil on linen board.  Why are you attracted to these materials?  I still use canvas, where appropriate, but I like linen board because it can be easily transported and used en plein air.  I am absolutely passionate about oil.  It is rich, luscious and buttery—especially some of the French brands like Sennelier.   It's really the most forgiving medium.  If you make a mistake, you can scrape it off.  After all, it's just paint! Your upcoming exhibition at Catherine Kelleghan Gallery is entitled:  ''Color, Light, and Emotion:  Paintings from the Georgia Coast to Tuscany.''  What can we expect?  As a landscape painter, I'm interested in creating a visual record—or history, if you will—of some of the areas in the world that are evolving, disappearing, and changing.  I want to capture a sense of these places I have come to know and love and share the joy I have when I'm there painting.  If I'm successful, the viewer will be drawn into my world and made to feel as if they are right there with me in this scene of peace and serenity.  It is my hope that art lovers in Atlanta will come and experience these places with me.  I'm really looking forward to coming to the gallery and sharing this work. Female artists often find it a challenge to balance their careers with the demands of family life.  Where do you find your balance?  I'm not sure my life is balanced.  It is a struggle.  I can say that I am very blessed.  My family respects what I do and honors the effort I put into the work.  My husband is a foreign affairs expert and has a very demanding professional life.  We must entertain regularly, and I try to make an effort to support his work.  I will say that women seem to be very good at keeping several balls bouncing at one time.  We just have to! About 15 years ago, you began offering painting classes and workshops here in the US and abroad.  What prompted you to delve into teaching?  Well, as I said, I ended another career as a writer, when we moved to Naples, FL.  It was here that I met a respected artist/teacher who encouraged me to begin taking on students.  At first I wasn't sure if that was the direction I wanted to take, until I discovered the excitement of plein air and began to want to share that experience with others.  I'm not really teaching as much as demonstrating to students how to open themselves to everything around them and really see their surroundings.  I absolutely love the ''ah-ha'' moments students experience, when they can see a place or an object as it really is.  It's thrilling!  Teaching also reinforces what I already know and reminds me to stay conscious of what I hold important in painting.   You have said, ''It is more important for an artist to learn to see, than to learn to paint.''  Is it possible to teach someone to see?  Yes. If you can't see a shape or perceive that one thing is more in focus than another, you can't replicate that feeling.  Every shape has a distinct quality to it and can be perceived with the senses.  I believe it is the responsibility of the artist to open himself, so he can portray what he is experiencing visually and emotionally. Some artists find the business of art daunting.  How do you balance your business responsibilities with your creative life?  It's not always easy.  I must be true to myself as an artist and, at the same time, do my best work and make it saleable.  Sometimes there's this little voice on one shoulder whispering ''Is this saleable?''  Of course, I must continually push against that voice, to be authentic and real as an artist.  I've been fortunate to have been free from the pressures many artists have to make ends meet.  I am driven by a motivation to succeed professionally, and this success is not defined by sales as much as by measuring my competence against that work I most admire.   Clearly you have a passion for painting.  What are some other interests?  Well, I'm a morning person.  I like to get up early and get into the studio by 8AM.  When I get on a roll, I can paint for ten hours straight, and that's not good for me physically.  So, by afternoon, I like to hit the tennis courts and enjoy some exercise, fresh air, and camaraderie with other people who love the sport.  Tennis offers a good counterpoint to the more introspective act of painting.  I also enjoy the company of other artists and am a member of an unofficial group of female artists affectionately referred to as 'The Tumbleweeds'.  We gather at each other's homes, paint, talk about art, and generally support each other in our work and life.  I think it's important for artists to have a close relationship with at least one other contemporary who is there for mutual support and solidarity.