Alright, you can call it pretty if you really mean it.

Ever since my blog post about “What Not to Say to an Artist,” I have become more aware of how people describe my work.  One of my indirect suggestions was to not call my work “pretty.”  Since then, several people have called my work pretty, and I have decided that it is OK.  It is still not my adjective of choice, but as long as the people who say it really mean it, then who am I to argue with sincerity?

“Before the Sun Came Through the Trees,” Oil on Birch Panel, 18×24 inches

It is always strange to hear people describe my work, whether they say “Oh, that’s so pretty!” or they use more erudite descriptions, as in a recent article in Fine Art Connoisseur’s Fine Art Today.  Here is an excerpt:

“One or two of Grossmann’s pieces come perilously close to being poster-worthy in their prettiness, but the majority of his work carries as much silent fortitude and aesthetic poetry as a George Inness painting. I also appreciate the fact that this artist doesn’t feel the need to adhere rigidly to the rules of realism, but rather experiments with abstraction and almost surrealism in some of his perspectives. He flattens the picture plane in many paintings and plays with spatial depth, giving his contemplative landscapes an ironically modern feel.” (Written by Allison Malafronte, Editor of Fine Art Today)

Hmmm.  You see how odd it feels to be analyzed?

This next description is quite pleasant.  It is from the latest post on the Matthews Gallery blog:

“David has developed a unique style that the artist calls “visual poetry”. Using a gentle, glowing palette, he paints abstracted visions of forests that are melodic in their focus on rhythm and symmetry. Sprawling swaths of landscape transform into flat, smooth planes while scattered trees lend a profound sense of depth. These contrasting perspectives set the works slightly off-balance, sending the eye on an endless quest to consolidate them. The compositions may seem serene, but they contain the same mysterious kinetic energy that tugs our eye from one stanza of a poem to the next.” (Written by Jordan Eddy, Director of Communications for the Matthews Gallery)

How lovely.  And goodness, that’s a lot to live up to.

 
My favorite recent description of my paintings is from a man who emailed me a few days ago.  His description of my work was short and to the point:  he called it “slightly bent.”

The past few weeks have been extraordinary.  

Three weeks ago I signed on with the Matthews Gallery in Santa Fe.  The response to my work has been incredible, and they sold seven of my paintings in the first two weeks!  Which leaves me with the good challenge of needing to replenish my inventory.  

Painting at the Grand Canyon! Photo taken by my good friend John Lopez.

Two weeks ago I was painting at the Grand Canyon.  That had been a dream of mine, so I am very grateful for its realization.  I am also grateful for my friends who bravely agreed to come with me on the long road trip.  Six people crammed in a car together for over twenty hours of driving…it could have been disastrous.  Amazingly, they are still my friends.

On Wednesday I went to Denver to meet with the curator of the Coors Art show.  We have been corresponding for a while now and she asked to see my work in person.  She decided that she wants to add me to next year’s show!  This is absolutely amazing to me because the Coors Show is one of the top western art shows in the nation, and the curator is known for being extremely selective.  It really is an unexpected and undeserved privilege.   

 
Life has left me feeling a bit stunned.  And also very grateful.  I wonder, what might happen next week? 

The Matthews Gallery in Santa Fe shows work by an interesting range of artists, including…me!  As of Saturday, I am officially one of their artists.  It is still hard to believe that it actually happened, but my alibis confirm what seems too good to be true.

“Away,” 20×34 inches, Oil on Panel

Walking through the Matthews Gallery is an amazing experience.  Their selection ranges from contemporary realism to abstraction, along with an impressive display of historical pieces.  That display includes works by Pablo PIcasso, Mary Cassatt, and Paul Gauguin.

The owners, Lawrence and Linda Matthews, are extraordinarily friendly and knowledgeable about the art world.  They impressively balance the variety of work that they show, so that the feel of the gallery holds together by their carefully curated arrangements.  It is an honor that they have included my paintings in their gallery.

 
Visit their website to learn more about their artists and to see my work in the company of Picasso:  http://www.thematthewsgallery.com/Artist-Detail.cfm?ArtistsID=249

Art can be one of those topics that people avoid, probably for the same reasons that I avoid talking about football, or accounting, or knitting…all of which I know next to nothing about.  When people who are not artists talk to me, they sometimes seem anxious about what to say.  If you are one of those people, rest assured:  though artists are hypersensitive, as long as your comments are genuinely curious and genuinely kind, then you have no need to fear.

Please don’t call it pretty. “Trunks and Sky in Winter,” Oil, 8×10 inches

Still, perhaps it would be helpful to have specifics about what not to say to an artist.  Here are some examples gathered from my own experience:

“They are so…so…pretty.”  He waved his plate of hors d’oeuvres, vaguely toward my paintings, smiled and walked off to see the rest of the art show.  As he walked away, I silently continued the conversation in my head, explaining that these paintings were products of dozens of hours of work, frustration, failure, and triumph.  Not to mention the years of training that it had taken me to get to this point.  Not to mention all that I, my family, and my friends had sacrificed in order for me to pursue this dream.  If the product of all of that were simply “pretty,” then surely it was all a waste.

“That painting is nice.”  What does that mean?  But at least you didn’t call it “pretty.”

“Are you painting?”  Actually, I don’t mind when people ask me this because it makes me smile.

“What is it supposed to be?”  Or the milder version:  “What is it?”  I had hoped that it was obvious.

“I just thought I should tell you…the eyes, they are way too dark.”  This comment came when I was in a museum, sketching one of Rembrandt’s portraits.  There was a woman who had been hovering behind me for a while, and when she could contain it no longer, she burst out with her advice and then walked away.  At least she was honest about her opinion.

The good news is that compliments usually far outweigh whatever discouraging comments people may choose to make.  Even ambiguous comments can be encouraging, such as the woman who told me:  “Now that I look at your work again, I’m starting to like it.”

 
As I said, kindness and genuine curiosity are always welcome.  I will try to implement them next time I find myself in a conversation about football.

The morning is bright and windy as I set up my painting gear.  The small chapel in front of me and the surrounding mountains seem almost to glow in the clarity of the Spring air.  I stand near the edge of a cliff, and below me is the small town of San Luis, which proclaims itself to be the oldest town in Colorado.  A winding path leads from the town up to the top of the cliff; along the path are bronze statues that recount the events of Jesus’ crucifixion.

San Luis Chapel, Oil, 8×10 inches

Seeking shelter from the wind, I set up my easel beside a tall bush.  On the other side of the bush looms the bronze sculpture of Jesus on the cross.  In the windy brightness, I begin to paint.

Soon the pilgrims start to arrive.  I had forgotten it is Holy Week.  They come in clusters, pausing at each statue to pray or take photos or read passages from the Bible.

Before long, the first pilgrims make their way to the statue of Jesus crucified.  I awkwardly scoot a bit farther toward the edge of the cliff, grateful that the bush gives them some privacy as they pray, though I am only a few yards away and can hear every word.  A woman finishes her prayers and tearfully hangs a rosary on Jesus’ bronze, severed foot.

Next comes an elderly man.  His voice fills with emotion as he reads these words that mix into the clear Spring morning and the sound of the wind…

“My people, what have I done to you?  Or in what way have I offended you?  Answer me.  What more should I have done, and did not do?  I led you out of the land of Egypt, and you prepared a cross for me.  I opened the Red Sea before you, and you opened my side with a lance.  I gave you a royal scepter, and you gave me a crown of thorns.  With great power I lifted you up, and you have hung me upon a cross.  My people, what have I done to you or in what way have I offended you?  Answer me.”

The rosary sways in the breeze and looks so fragile, suspended there against the mountains.

My Blue Face

It is night.  We stand in a parking lot illuminated by the headlights of our cars.  The countdown comes, and then… a handful of vibrant blue powder flies into my face.  Gleaming orange powder showers over me from behind, clinging thickly to my hair.  Vivid yellow powder cascades down my clothes.  I reach for my bag of beaming scarlet powder and attempt to douse my opponents with its contents.  This is rendered difficult by the thick blue layer that still coats the lenses of my glasses.

Bright green hurls into my ear.  Along with it the sounds of laughter, running, throwing, dodging.  Dazzling purple lands across my mouth, gritty on my teeth.

This is the Indian way to celebrate the coming of Spring.  They call it Holi, the festival of colors.

By now the ground has become a patchwork of scattered colors, trampled by our color-stained feet.  The asphalt has become a work of art, as have our clothes and our skin.

It is strange that tossing colored powder could so genuinely capture the feeling of Spring.  Though I love the muted tones of winter, even I must admit that something will come to life in me when I see the first wildflowers blooming…vibrant blue, gleaming orange, vivid yellow, beaming scarlet, bright green, dazzling purple.

Colorful Aftermath (I am on the right, behind all the colors)

My painting, “In the Snow and Shadow,” won Best of Show for the monthly Ray Mar Art Painting Competition!  Renowned artist Nancy Guzik was the judge for the competition.  Here are her words about my painting:

“In the Snow and Shadow,” 18×24 inches, Oil.

Judge’s Comments: For Best of Show, it was my emotions that made the final decision, along with good design, edges, mood and concept. David Grossmann goes beyond his paint by bringing a sensitivity that appears to be magic. This painting vibrates with his use of color, yet he achieves a spirit of quietness. David connects with his landscape and subjects as a whole, finding a way to use his paints to achieve this effect of atmosphere, mood, and invitation to enjoy. Not only could I enjoy this painting forever, it also uplifts the moment I share with it. – Nancy Guzik

 
To see my painting along with the 12 finalists’ work on the Ray Mar website, visit:  http://www.raymarartcontest.com/winners/100

As I write this, the warm winter sun is quickly melting the remnants of yesterday’s snowstorm.  It was quite the storm, while it lasted.  I walked among the thickly falling flakes, pummeled by the wind.  The world around me blurred into falling white.  There was no practical reason for me to be out walking in the storm, but just the thought of it was enough to draw me out from the warm stillness of my house into its cold intensity.

Here is my painting gear, set up in the deep powder.

Walking in falling snow is one of my life’s greatest joys.  Painting in falling snow is not as wonderful:  the flakes stick to the brushes, melt on the panels, and make the oil paint a gummy mess. Despite the impending frustrations, snow-clad landscapes are still some of my favorite subjects to paint.

I am including this photo from a painting excursion I took last week.  My snow-shoes made the walk through deep powder a bit easier, and though I did still manage to get my gear quite wet, the process was something like walking on clouds.

The (professional) new easel.

“As a man thinketh, so is he.”  Is that how it goes?  Anyway, I think it is a true sentiment.

 
The reason I bring it up is that part of being a professional artist is building imagery in my mind; constructing my thoughts to be in line with the fact that this is what I do for a living.  As part of my construction, I bought a new easel.  It looks quite professional, unlike my old easel which literally fell apart while I was using it.

Today was my second day to use the new easel.  Seeing my current works in progress perched upon it makes them seem small and it inspires me to paint larger, more wonderful pieces…pieces that are fitting to such a professional easel.

Do you need to order new checks, address labels, or a checkbook cover?  Search no more.  You can now order any of these items featuring my artwork!  

 
How did my paintings end up on checks?  It all started when one of the representatives from CheckAdvantage (one of the largest producers of personal and business checks in the country) spotted my paintings in a magazine.  CheckAdvantage has been putting together a new line of checks and accessories called their “Licensed Artist” series, so they asked if I would like to be part of their program.

 
Click on the image to browse the checks, address labels, and checkbook covers.  There are four different sets of designs for you to choose from:  Aspen Paintings, Moon Paintings, Mountain Paintings, or Deer and Forest Paintings.

Here is a link to my page on the CheckAdvantage website:

http://new.checkadvantage.com/david-grossmann-bio