A Travel Painting Blog

A favorite place and image

2012-01-06T18:42:00.044-06:00

This chiaroscuro (or clair-obscur) drawing in brush and ink of Marie-Eve and Camille sketching on the edge of a railway embankment in rural Quebec is a favorite because it reminds me of the social aspect of painting outdoors. The two young friends, who were students in a course I was giving there, often sat together, chatting away about other things while they drew and painted. You can imagine them picnicking together, taking their sketchbooks and paints along with a basket with wine and lunch and a blanket out to a favorite spot.

Contributed by Michael Kluckner
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I had just taken a new job and moved to Germany. I was looking over a map, and orienting myself to the area around my new apartment in the small town of Hochspeyer. Then there it was, a scant six kilometers from my apartment; the town of Frankenstein. I thought to myself, no, it couldn’t be. Could it? A few days later I had some extra time so I drove to Frankenstein. The weather was sunny and Frankenstein, though very small, was charming. There was a Gasthaus(inn/restaurant) at the edge of town, with patrons enjoying the sunshine at outdoor tables. It took me all of two minutes to drive the entire length of Frankenstein. As I turned around and began to drive back, I noticed a churchspire nestled against a hill off to the left of the road. I pulled over to take a picture. Then I saw the castle, a menacing looking one at that, crumbling, perched on the hill overlooking the town. Unbelievable.

I did not have any more time that day, but after researching the castle I worked up the courage and made the climb up the hill. The weather was nice and the trail was wide. The watercolor drawing is a view from the end of the trail as it comes upon the castle ruins. My trip to the castle (at www.michaels-travels.com) turned out to be quite enjoyable and I plan to return, but not in the dark of night.

Contributed by Michael Liebhaber

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This picture was taken in the middle of the salt flats, Salar de Uyumi, in Bolivia where even the hotel is made out of salt. This was one of those times I got to a destination to paint with my travel companion Nilton La Rosa without knowing how we were going to get back. About a week went by before we finally found a ride back to civilization. By then we were glad to be getting off the salt. It was hard on the skin and lips.

Contributed by Gregg Fretheim

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"Sketches from the front: a WWII veteran's hand-drawn memoir"

2011-11-03T10:50:00.002-05:00

Here's an article and accompanying video from BBC News about Joseph Farris and his just-released wartime sketches.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-15560482

For further information about Mr. Farris his website is:

http://www.josephfarris.com/Home.html

Essay: "Why We Travel" by Pico Iyer

2011-09-25T22:50:00.001-05:00

Here's a link to an essay by the much traveled Pico Iyer, well known for his essay, "The Nowhere Man" (if anyone has a link to this article in its entirety let me know).

http://www.salon.com/travel/feature/2000/03/18/why

Is this indeed the heart of the impulse to travel, to be in search, as Iyer states, "of something...(even) if it's one that you can never quite find?" Meanwhile the "something" gives way to something else, as the essay goes on to say, in a search "undimmed by familiarity" where we are "ready to be transformed." I'm curious if others think this a fundamental aspect of their travels abroad, and indeed travels not abroad as well, as the article touches upon.

A Question and Answer with Gregg Fretheim

2011-05-22T23:27:00.002-05:00

The following is an interview with Gregg Fretheim about his most recent trip to Botswana in January and February of 2011. This was Gregg's second trip to the region.

Could you explain how this trip to Africa came about, and what your mindset was before you left? You previously mentioned you were looking for an adventure. Could you touch on that and explain what you meant?

My guide Poul Neilsen

This African trip began the year before when I meat Poul Neilsen. He is a safari and adventure tour guide operating his business from the backpackers where I stayed then. Poul lives in Johannesburg, South Africa and grew up in Makuse, homeland of the Zulus. Growing up in an environment with many animal reserves and Kruger Park, along with his father’s rhino ranch, he’s an expert identifying local wildlife. He also introduced me to one of the only girls in his life, “Sandy,” because she would have to come along. She was a beauty, all four to six thousand pounds of her, a white Land Rover.

Adventure has spontaneity to it, it’s really a form of testing yourself. It reveals itself in front of you so there’s no idea what’s going to happen from day to day – sleeping out with the animals is sleeping with one eye open. You don’t know what’s going to come in. There isn’t the protection of a wire fence or anything like that.

Do you feel this mindset, taking it as an adventure, affected any of your work?

From my previous trip – being brought to a box to paint where the animals came by a waterhole - this was very, very different. I’ve never painted atop a vehicle before or in an environment where Poul would say, “If you see something slowly wagging, don’t run. It’s a cat.” I was very aware where I was, what the surroundings were when beginning to paint, and getting absorbed into my work fast. When painting in the brush you have to be very aware what’s going on around because you can’t necessarily see animals coming up. Sandy is close by. She’s the house. It seemed it worked for me. I finished 10 paintings and three or four worked out.

What was your first destination outside of Johannesburg?

We headed north to a reserve called Mararele. There we rented a nice hut with a lake view and a mountain behind it. That evening a white rhino, some giraffes, and many birds came down to have a drink. A Dutch couple came over after dinner and asked Poul if he could help with a little gray snake in their hut. Poul obliged and went over to help the couple while I finished the dishes. It did not take Poul long to learn it was not a little gray snake but a Mozambique spitting cobra. He removed the snake by the time I finished with the dishes. The couple rewarded Poul with a fine box of cigars. The next day we spent driving up the mountain, stopping to view the baboons and klipspringers, and had a lunch while the cape vultures flew above us. This was a slow acclamation to the sun and heat as we headed towards Botswana and the Kalahari.

Would you try to paint early in the morning or in the evening when it was cooler?

It wouldn’t matter because if I saw it, I wanted to paint it, but heat is a major problem. It’s 120 F and there isn’t much shade and really no trees. You’re out in the open. I just put a hat on and go, and if it becomes overwhelming, I just break down and leave. It depends on speed - how fast I can paint it. I can usually do it within my physical comfort zone.

How long a time is that? Did you approach it?

I went as long as I possibly could, just pushed it. When going into extreme environments, whether hot or cold, I prepare psychologically beforehand for the problems I have to face. It’s not a pleasure to deal with this. But I know this before I go and block much of the discomfort out. The work comes because these environments are absolutely of profound beauty and many people don’t want to take it on. It’s part of nature, part of the experience, and I want to get it. I guess I condition myself for it.

Can you describe some of your time, some of your highlights, spent in the Kalahari?

When we arrived at the town of Molipolore late in the evening, it had rained days before, and the road was flooded with large pools of water up to Sandy’s doors. A check in is required to notify the reserve where you are going for your own protection. There are more lions concentrated in Molipolore than any other place in the Kalahari, and the heat is almost off the charts - 120 F/ 50 C. We camped for several days and returned to tell them we were going to the central area. The head warden said we had moved one night without telling him and fined us $50. The animals were spread out because of the rain, and the landscape was very lush. Tracking lions along the road while heading toward giraffes and springbok was a lot of fun.

Bushmen and Poul tracking
lions

One day while driving, we came across a village of Bushmen. Poul said the Bushmen typically hide since they do not want to be seen. As we approached the village, a woman came running towards us waving her hands calling for help. Three lions had killed two donkeys and hurt a dog in the village. The male Bushmen jumped in the back with their spears, and one had his head out the window tracking as we drove along. The lions must have heard Sandy and run away. We burned what was left of one donkey with a bottle of my turpentine, and dragged the other carcass about a half mile away. When lions become this bold, I was told you must let them know they are not wanted. The bushman were very happy for the help and gave me permission to paint their village.

Did you find your first trip to Africa help you in anyway with this trip?

No. Other than just being excited to go with a vehicle, stop, get out, set up a tent, with no safety of a compound. That was very different. It’s one step closer to being within the flow of things. Whereas before I lived in a compound, driven to a small box, painted from the box, picked up and driven back, and was advised not to walk around because of the animals. Here, Sandy was the compound and being able to go say right or left or straight was new to me, and I had to be ready for everything as it came.

What is the furthest you would distance yourself from Sandy?

Never far, no more than 40 or 50 yards. I’m not a fast runner, so in a 100 yard dash anyone of these animals could beat me to Sandy. Poul was keeping an eye out as well, while setting up a meal or something. It’s something he’s always aware of, if he brings people into the Kalahari, he needs to be very aware of what’s going on around. Of course, people with him have to be very aware as well.

Poul and Sandy at camp

You said you painted atop the Land Rover, what was the reason for that?

We were on a reserve by water on the pan, and a white rhino and her baby were walking alongside us at a distance, and just for safety reasons I decided to paint on top. If there were elephants there, well an elephant can cause problems.

A bull elephant studying us

That worked?

Yeah, I was sitting on the tire. It was fantastic. The sun was setting and animals were all around. It was a new experience. It was new to me. There was a feeling of security on top of the vehicle knowing all these animals are around. That worked out really well.

Where did you go next after leaving the Bushmen’s village?

We headed toward Kharma Reserve and beautiful Lake Xou where all the mosquitoes in Africa begin their lives. We spent most of our time meandering around the small town of Gweta close to the Makagadicadi Pans. One day we decided to visit the elephant graveyard. The roads were full of water because of the rain. Poul picked a road he thought was safe but soon water up to the doors surrounded us in a miles width in each direction. A single foot off the road, and the land rover would sink treacherously. We came to a ‘V’ in the road and made a choice. It was not the right one, and sank all the way down to Sandy’s diffs in mud. After two hours of digging, some local guys came by and wanted to help. About three hours later with their help, Poul pulled Sandy out backwards only to drive her too far to the left and she sank to one side. Poul got out, yelled something to the gods( I don’t remember what he said), got back in, and Sandy came flying out as if she had never been stuck. Not being able to turn around we headed down the road and spent the night. In the morning, a girl came by and said she lived in the next village just down the road. She did not know a way out to a main road other than the way we had come. Not long after someone else came and said he could show us the way out. We made it to a main road and again were on our way.

Digging out with local help

We returned to Gweta and drove to Chapman’s baobab tree where Doc Livingstone’s name is carved on it. They used this very old 4000-year-old tree to navigate the pans (salt flats). On the way to the pans, we found one of the world’s largest migrations, the zebra. We setup camp for a few days around the migration, took night drives, and with thousands of zebras come thousands of flies. At the lodge, they warned us about driving on the pans. “You have to follow the road. If you drive off the vehicle will break through and sink. It’s been raining a lot so don’t go out there!” One thing lead to another, and Sandy found herself about one hundred yards out in the Makayadicadi Pans. They didn’t look like salt flats, because of the grass from the rain. We could only follow the road, drive at a good pace, and try not to stop. We made it all the way across and back, I guess we were lucky. Camping by the pans was stunning and we always slept with one eye open. Camping no more than 50 feet off the road next to the forest at nine at night is very unpredictable and that’s when things happen.

Did anything happen in your trip in that regard?

One evening we both went to our tents, and at about two in the morning I heard two very close, very loud cat-cries, and a kind of a purring, low rumbling sound. That was fantastic. I didn’t actually see the leopard, but that was my experience with her.

Another night a man walked up to our camp with a rifle in his hands looking for his cattle while we were close to the elephant graveyard. He told us he had shot a spotted hyena that night and before he left told us to enjoy ourselves and went on with his business. After dinner while heading to the tents, Poul said, “Take this machete. I’ll use this shovel. If the hyenas come in they will push their heads against the tent then let them have it with the flat end of the machete” (this was one of those times I thought, “What the hell did I get myself into!”). That night the hyenas came very close to the tent and let us know with that all-too-eerie sound: weeett weeett.

So it was a true adventure for you?

When we made it back to Johannesburg, Sandy had been on empty for at least fifty miles (this is a Land Rover thing). We had traveled 2850 km., 1724 km. off road. Sleeping in a tent for 30 days, wearing underwear for five to seven days at a time, and struggling to complete ten sketches in the sun and heat with three or four that worked made for a great adventure! A big thanks to Poul and Sandy. Priceless.

Sunset in the Kalahari

Travel Painting in Quebec, Canada

2011-03-27T17:56:00.000-05:00

There are a lot of art courses available, some pertaining to travel-painting, but this one is more of an adventure than most. Michael Kluckner will be conducting a week-long course in June in Percé, on the Gaspé peninsula in eastern Quebec, Canada, as part of the University of Laval's summer school of the arts. The course is conducted in the former studio of a New York painter named Frederick James, who built it in the 1880s as a summer retreat, and students find accommodation in historic cottages nearby and work out of doors for much of the week in the incredibly picturesque village and on nearby Ile Bonaventure, a national park. The course will be conducted in French (but with a lot of translation available if necessary). Link to details about the course through Michael Kluckner's website, www.michaelkluckner.com, and contact him directly if you have questions before registering.

Upcoming Posts

2011-02-26T13:10:00.000-06:00

Here at the Travel Painting Blog we're looking forward to two upcoming posts in the near future. The first will deal with the challenges of painting outside with oil on canvas in an extreme environment, namely, a Minnesota winter. Tom Laukkenan will talk about how he overcomes difficult conditions painting in snow with freezing temperatures along a creek near his hometown of St. Paul.

The second post will follow Gregg Fretheim's most recent trip through opposite environmental extremes, painting with oil on canvas in The Kalahari Desert in Botswana. Gregg recently returned from a month long safari there and will share the obstacles painting in an environment where the temperature reaches 120 °F (nearly 49 °C).

A Question and Answer with Michael Liebhaber

2010-12-16T20:02:00.010-06:00

1) Michael, you have a diverse background in art, including sculpture and painting. What made you decide to start travel painting and when?

Thanks, Tom. As you say, I have made many different kinds of art. I think the variety has been good for me. It has lead me to a deeper appreciation for all forms of art making and an understanding of an artist’s process as she or he made a piece. As for travel painting, I was forced into it by my circumstances. I grew up with western landscapes all around me and have done some plein air oil painting, but working with Celebrity Cruises is what pushed me 100 percent into watercolor travel painting. I have worked for Celebrity since mid 2007. As a crew member aboard a ship, I traveled to many places. Ship fire regulations prohibited me from using oil paints and solvents, so I took my trusty watercolor kit. It never let me down. Most of my paintings were done in ports during the brief times I was able to get off the ship.

2) I notice that you tend to work small, the focus lending it self towards convenience and capturing your experience quickly. What, for you, are the benefits of working in this manner?

I think there are two benefits from working small, one practical and the other artistic. I prefer to work large, but my circumstances made it impractical. It was much simpler to have an easily portable kit that did not weigh me down if I wanted to take a long walk in a port, yet was able to provide me the capability to sketch and paint whenever I wanted. My motto soon became: compact is convenient, convenience is good. Everything fit into one or two pockets in my cargo pants. The artistic benefit was that the small format freed my mind from the investment that I had in large-scale works. As a result, I painted often and fearlessly, which lead me to a consistent style and better painting (in my ever so humble opinion).

3) On your web page, www.michaels-travels.com, you have travel paintings from all over the world. Is there a specific trip or trips that stands out more than the others?

Every place I visited afforded me the opportunity to draw, and each has a story, whether I painted there or not. Most places are memorable because of the people I met or the friends I was with, but there are places that I appreciated solely as an artist. A very incomplete list of some of those places are Tallin, Estonia (my first sketch in my travels overseas); Arles, France (I drew the bridge that Van Gogh painted & stood where he would have stood to paint Café Terrace at Night, both awesome experiences); Saint Petersburg, Russia (with images of my pencil falling into a canal & the best vodka in the world), intricate, beautiful mosaics in the ruin of a Roman house in Southwestern Cyprus; the picturesque towns of Villefranche, Alesund, and Amsterdam; enigmatic Istanbul, where the cityscapes and markets are a feast for the senses; and finally, everywhere and everything in Florence.

Sailing Past Cape Decision Alaska

4) Tell us where you’re from and do you travel and paint locally?

I live in Scottsdale, Arizona, USA. I was born in Wisconsin, but my family moved west when I was little. I grew up in Tucson, which is my adopted hometown. Since then, I have lived in nine states and traveled to half the planet. I do not cruise on a regular basis now, so I travel around Arizona to paint. I also travel internationally when I am able.

5) If so, what are the major differences? Do you work in different mediums? Does your kit vary depending on where you're going?

I prefer oils, but with today’s travel hassles watercolors (or gouache) seem to make the most sense. I use an old folding watercolor kit with 10 dry colors. I take it everywhere, as I can easily mix a wide range of colors from a small set. Another benefit is that dry colors, as opposed to tubes, go through airport security around the world. Other things in my “kit” are a good sized brush, two pencils, a sharpener, and eraser, two pens, a small plastic container (for water), and a 5x7 inch watercolor pad. You can see my whole kit on my website. The only change I make is when I carry my backpack. Then I’ll put in an 8x10 inch watercolor block and carry a bottle of water. I only carry water if it’s a warm day or if I know I won’t be around a source of water. I’ve never failed to have a source of water, or other liquid suitable for painting.

6) What do you enjoy about travel painting?

As much as I love the desert southwest, I miss international travel painting. Mixing international travel and painting is fun, a natural high. My career with Celebrity taught me that travel painting is not just about the painting. I need the travel. In the past, I traveled to a location to paint. Now, I paint while I travel. Big difference for me. Everywhere is a “location”. I enjoy where-ever I am and I can paint there, too.
Travel painting also stretches my personal envelope. I do not consider myself adventurous or gregarious, but I like to going places and seeing things. Meeting people is a by-product of painting on location. Painting is a good, non-threatening way to meet people. People of all ages and occupations (e.g., locals, tourists, school children, waiters, police) have come up to me. One of my more memorable conversations was with a young French woman as I was drawing the Villefrance waterfront. She sat down and we chatted for about ten minutes, me in English, she in French, about "Je ne sais pas". What fun!

Seville

Villefranche

Lisbon

Images not listed directly under are from top to bottom; San Francisco from Bow of Ship, Drawing in Alesund, Norway and Honolulu

Michael Liebhaber: A Brief Biography

2010-10-29T13:58:00.009-05:00

Michael’s paintings and sculptures have been exhibited at the University of Arizona, Boehm Galley at Palomar College in San Marcos, CA, San Diego County Fair, Western Connecticut State University, Silo Gallery at Hunt Hill Farm Trust in New Milford, CT, Artists and Friends Invitational in Newtown, CT, and Prince Street Gallery in New York.

His work was featured in The Litchfield County Times Monthly in New Milford, CT and his haunting three-dimensional portrait of Osama bin Laden was used on the cover of The Telescope Weekly in San Marcos, CA to illustrate their review of the 2002 Student Show at Palomar College. His cut and welded steel sculpture, Ripple, won second place in abstract sculpture at the 2003 Exhibition of Art at the San Diego County Fair. Michael has also designed magazine and books covers, advertisements, brochures, and logos, and has illustrated all types of print media. He has designed and coded websites and has taught website design.

Michael grew up in the wild, wild, west of the USA. He spent most of his formative years in the desert around Tucson, Arizona walking with coyotes, chasing snakes, scorpions, and rabbits, crawling into abandoned mines looking for treasure, and hanging with the occasional old time cowboy. Really, he did. Those experiences gave him his love and inquisitiveness about nature, places, and people.

Since then he has lived in every part of the United States, traveled to many parts of the world, and painted in some interesting places. Despite his misspent youth, he has received many academic degrees (PhD in Child Language and MFA in Painting among others). He programmed computers (when computers were new), was a MacArthur Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, taught at various colleges, and spent a number of years researching and designing some pretty sophisticated computer information systems.

He has recently taken time to travel and focus on his artwork. He traveled the world with Celebrity Cruises as a manager of shipboard internet cafes. It was during that time that he began his Travel Watercolor Series.

Coming Soon!

2010-10-29T13:16:00.011-05:00

In a few weeks we will be posting an interview of travel painter Michael Liebhaber conducted by fellow painter Tom Laukkanen. In the meantime you can learn more about Michael Liebhaber on his web page www.michaels-travels.com.

A Question and Answer with Tom Laukkanen

2010-08-23T15:49:00.045-05:00

The following is an interview between David Frank and Tom Laukkanen covering Tom's seven week solo trip to New Zealand January/February 2010. This was his first trip overseas.

Photo taken at Albert Park in Auckland, NZ

I want to start with something you said in your last interview. You said that, “There’s times when I’m caught up with work or other people and I lose sight of the art and it will call. It will call to me, ‘I need to paint.’” Before this trip was there a call, and if there was a call, what was it?

Before the trip the call had been there on a nightly basis beckoning me to not necessarily travel or go to New Zealand, or to paint, but to do something. It was not subtle. It was something inside that needed to be answered. I guess, it’s almost a question of your own happiness and your own sanity. What’s going to happen if you live in this world that is upon you by refusing the call? It’s something that can motivate and drive you and eventually you have to answer it, or you will go insane. What keeps your sanity through the whole thing is using it as motivation. Doing the 9 to 5 has value because it gets you to the point to take that trip or answer that call, whatever it may be. The mundane becomes a lot more gratifying when you know it’s going to something that is actually going to bring you happiness and take you into the unknown and unexplored.

How did you settle on New Zealand as your destination?

I don’t know why, but I had a fair amount of anxiety about traveling solo overseas.

I chose New Zealand for a couple of reasons. First of all, it’s stunningly beautiful. Secondly, because of my lack of travel experience, I didn’t think that thrusting myself into a third world country was appropriate for me and I thought NZ would be a good place to start, safe yet still provide me with challenges I’m not used to. Lastly, I chose NZ because it so damn cold in Minnesota during the winter.

Photo of gannet colony at Muriwai Beach near Auckland, NZ

Your previous travel to this trip had been to different regions within the U.S. and Canada. Now you’ve gone to someplace completely foreign and outside this range. What were the major differences for you?

I found out quickly that the anxiety over traveling abroad was over nothing. There weren’t what I would call major differences between NZ and anywhere I’ve been. Culturally, they are pretty similar. The main difference for me was being alone for seven weeks with nobody to answer to except myself, it’s a really freeing experience.

Was there anything in New Zealand that surprised you, that you weren’t expecting, that left you baffled or stunned?

Honestly, the surprise of some people, from the local people, that someone was out there painting. They didn’t seem to have a lot of people that painted from life. I know it’s been done there, but they seemed pleasantly surprised. They’re interested in you, especially when they find out you’re foreign, and some would ask, “How come you’re here painting my country?” Of course, the landscape itself was very stunning.

The thing however that stunned me the most was the hospitality of all the people I stayed with, got rides from, and helped me along my way. They’re guidance and companionship is something that will live with me forever.

Photo of my friend Andrew and me

What gear did you bring? In terms of painting supplies what was your kit?

My usual case will carry an 18” x 24” canvas and I was intent on bringing it but at the last minute, a couple days before my trip, I decided to buy a smaller case. I was sure I couldn’t carry it on the plane, it’s made of metal and heavy, and I didn’t want to carry it the whole time. So I bought a lighter case that would still encompass a 16” x 20” and a 14” x 18” canvas.

I had my oils. I didn’t carry any turpentine, I bought that while I was in New Zealand. And I brought a small easel. I bought a camping cutting board and carved my palette from that, that way it fit in my case carrying my paints. Other than that, a few brushes and a roll of canvas.

Travel Kit

How did your first painting come about?

I got my first painting done while I was in Rotorua.

Rotorua is a city?

Yeah, it’s a city in the center of the North Island with hot springs and geysers and smelled of sulfur. It was really kind of touristy and expensive. It was worth checking out, but I wouldn’t have felt bad to bypass it.

My first painting was at a place called Champagne Pool. There was a bunch of steam coming off this pool and some crazy colors, something I’ve never attempted to paint and I figured let's just try it. It was really...not my favorite place in the world, but it was an exciting part of the trip because I was getting my first painting done, in a new environment, doing it in a big crowd of people, which can get inside my head and make me nervous sometimes.

Were you happy with your first painting in Rotorua?

Technically, I wasn’t impressed with the painting, but doing it is a feeling I’ll remember. I’m happy with every painting. There’s a feeling of numbness and exhaustion, yet elation. I’m sure if you set off to run a marathon, you put a lot of preparation into it, similar to painting, there’s some preparation whether its scouting or getting your breathing right and the act of doing it. There’s an exhaustion and numbness at the same time. It’s not a precise feeling, just a good overall feeling.

After you finished?

Yeah, whether the painting's bad or good, you’re pleased overall and not with the painting specifically but with the process you’ve undertook. A painting is special not because the way it turned out, but because of the experience. The experience dictates the feeling much more than the technical success or failure of a painting.

Did you end up looking for certain things to paint? Did you develop any sort of pattern with your painting?

For the most part I look for things I enjoy. At the same time, in the back of my mind I think I have to capture this in the best way possible and it might not be what I’m comfortable with. I did plenty of what I’m comfortable with to no regret. Landscapes inspire me by the natural beauty without obstruction of man-made things. At the same time, there are different people, different things. In New Zealand there are boats everywhere, and I didn’t paint a single boat. I wish I would have. I’m constantly trying to push the envelope for what I’m comfortable with, and sometimes I do it and sometimes I don’t. If I just stay with what I’m comfortable with it starts to get boring and becomes less of a challenge. If I can let go of myself in situations where it’s crowded or someone is really annoying or obnoxious then I have control of myself. It’s something I work on wherever I go and doesn’t matter if I’m home or away. It’s taking small steps forward to allow yourself to change but not feeling a need to rush. I take it as I want, in whatever increments I want, without feeling badly about it or any pressure.

Sunrise at low tide, Marahau, NZ

Sunsetting behind mountains, Marahau, NZ

Do you have plans on a gallery to showcase your work on this trip or previous travels?

Yes, since 2004 I’ve been painting in the U.S. and I don’t know if it will include my experience in New Zealand, or if it will be from the era of experience traveling in the U.S. I plan on doing it outside of the industry, which will probably involve renting my own space and having my own show.

Fisherman and Gannet Colony at Muriwai Beach near Auckland, NZ

Are you interested in selling your work?

Not at the moment. Painting for me is just a way of documenting my experiences, which are much more rich and full than any one painting by itself. I feel it’s important for me to keep my work together to illustrate this bigger picture, one’s life experience.

Do you have short-term plans to show your work?

I’d like to have a show, but where? I’ve shown my work in coffeehouses and libraries and other venues that are unjuried and I appreciate that. The only problem is that the reason for one being there is to get coffee, or check out a book, or deposit money in a bank and the artwork there is secondary. For the time being I don’t know where this is going. I’m a novice at this, and my feelings are subject to change, but right now I feel like the industry is turning artists into craftspeople. I want to find a different venue that says the expression is free, a place where the art is there to impact the viewer not in the sense of its monetary value but in terms of shared experience and where art is the primary reason people are there. That’s why I’m here on this blog.

Mitre Peak, Milford Sound, NZ

What is it you’re striving towards with your painting?

To be at one with myself, to be at one with the world, and to let go of fear and desire and really be a part of myself, society, the world, the universe. To be active and to be involved.

During one painting a lady came up to me, and I’m not having an easy time painting, between comments from people walking by and the amount of people, and she said, “You’re a painter.” I said, “Yeah, although I’m struggling at the moment.” And she replied, “That really isn’t the point, is it? You’re out here, aren’t you?” She really hit the nail on the head. It isn’t the point. As long as I know I’m a struggling painter, I can let go of myself. I can embrace the struggle. It’s universal.

Blue Moon Rise over Ruby Bay, Mapua, NZ

What plans for future travel do you have, whether specific or not specific? What are your plans for travel painting?

Being away I met so many people from so many different places and I’m so fresh from being back from my trip, I want to go to everyplace on the planet at once. I know that’s not logical, but travel’s definitely in my future and it’s something I’ve just accepted as being a part of my life. I want to progress towards things that are more difficult than New Zealand, things that are less comfortable for me, and things that will push me in a direction headed towards the unknown where I’m forced to rely more on my instincts and less on external pressures.

As far as my painting goes, I’ll do it until I don’t enjoy it anymore.

Next generation travel painter?

Painting war from the frontlines

2010-04-06T13:52:00.000-05:00

Why do we need oil painters in a war zone?

I saw this article in BBC News, thought it might be of interest to travel painters. Cheers! K

A Question and Answer with Michael Kluckner

2010-04-05T08:12:00.006-05:00

The following interview with Michael Kluckner focuses on a 10 week trip he and his wife made in late 2009 through Australia.

How did you decide the route of your trip? And how did you settle on your mode of transportation, the camper van?

Most people who have the choice – especially the "grey nomads" – travel to the tropics and desert in the winter when it's coolest. We weren't able to leave Sydney until early September, the Australian Spring, and so went north into tropical Queensland as directly as we could, then to the desert, and spent the end of the trip moving through the south of the country which would supposedly be cooler but turned out to be the hottest of all.

The camper van, or travel trailer aka caravan, is probably the best way to do a road trip as motels and cafes are so scattered, the distances so huge. Arguably you could do okay with a car, a tent, a portable stove and an Esky (a cooler), reducing your fuel bill and from time to time sleeping in a proper bed in a rented cabin in a caravan park. There's not much of the pull-off-the-road type of camping in Australia – I don't know whether it's because it's dangerous or because the police will move you on. But the caravan parks are cheap and cheerful and give you a window into an aspect of Aussie life – the nomads on the one hand, the relatively poor long-term residents on the other.

In deciding what medium to use, how much was dictated by the environment, and how much was personal choice?

Part of the problem with a long road trip is that you can get so far behind on the pictures you're doing unless your pace of travel is solely dictated by artwork. That was the case here – we were on the road for ten weeks, and saw uncountable numbers of towns, landscapes, beaches and people.

Watercolour has always been to a me an illustration or documentary medium: i.e. I paint a picture that looks like a particular place, not copying every detail of course but putting in the elements that record it for me. On this trip I thought I would try a medium into which I could arrange elements that would give me more "generic" images – such as caravan park, beach, old buildings by the side of a road – ones that represent the spirit of the trip rather than the specifics of individual places.

The other matter was colour. The intensity of the tropical greens and blues in Queensland and the extraordinary desert colours in the Outback are very difficult to obtain in watercolour – my technique of layered washes has always worked best in paler landscapes further from the Equator. I hate an overworked watercolour – the kind where the paper begins to close up because too much pigment is pushed into it, because of working too dry.

So I took an Isabey brush and Chinese ink and painted on a natural-coloured smooth paper to capture the intensity of light and the way that shadowy forms merge into a single solid black,
like a woodcut with no modelling at all. All the harshness of the Australian landscape is in that tonal split from blazing sun to deep shade, from chiaro to scuoro. I would draw the core of the image in pencil and then when I began to paint it in ink I would alter or re-imagine the background and make it fit to the subject, with shadows highlighting sunlit (blank) shapes, creating a pattern of black and white. Those drawings are at www.michaelkl uckner.com/troz.html.

A fellow artist in Australia, Roland Hemmert, www .rolandhemmert.com.au, travels with pastels
and gets very strong results. And of course there are the brave souls who take along oils and snazzy travel easels and paint outdoors – I tip my hat to them. I resolved to paint a few canvases in oils as soon as we ended the trip, while the colour memory was still fresh – these of course are not "travel art," but they complement the on-the-road work. www.michaelkluckner.com/artoz.html

What particular technical difficulties did you encounter (I'm particularly thinking here about your attempt at watercolors at Alice Springs)?

Heat was a problem everywhere. On the tropical coast humidity made it very difficult to find the energy to work. In the desert it was the dry air, of course, which has a particular impact on watercolours for me. I try to work on a slightly dampened surface but the hot dry air simply sucked the moisture out of the paper, making it very difficult to paint any washes at all without them drying with a "tide-line" at the edge. And I couldn't get back into any of the washes to model them as the paper was instantly dry as a bone.

People who know their Australian art know about Albert Namatjira, the aboriginal watercolourist active in the middle part of the last century. His desert landscapes are superb, quite strongly coloured, the paints almost tending to go opaque like gouache, and I totally admire them. There is a gallery of his and his followers' work in Alice Springs. I haven't been able to figure out how he painted as well as he did there, except he probably worked in the winter when the temperature is usually in the 20s – when it's easier to control the moisture on a piece of paper. It was rarely below about 39 Celsius (100+ Fahrenheit) in our time there.

Other than the heat (if that can be ignored), what difficulties did the Outback present?

You could tolerate the heat if you could find shade, but Australian trees typically cast a very open shade that only lowers the temperature a little. I didn't have the sort of portable umbrella gear that some really serious painters have. And the flies are brutal. I know that some people work with nets over their hats and faces, which is a little like painting hens through a chicken wire fence.

How many distinct environments did you work in? Was there one you enjoyed more than the others?

The tropical coast and the desert were the two new ones for me. We also passed through a lot of classic Australian pastoral landscape – eucalypts dotted about on rolling paddocks, long views to blue hills – that I was very familiar with from having lived there for a few years. I had made a number of short painting trips during those years into the plains west of the Blue Mountains in New South Wales, which worked very well for sketchbook watercolours like the ones I've usually done on trips elsewhere in the world.

In terms of work and what you produced, how do you compare this trip to previous ones? Do you, in fact, compare trips in this regard?

Some trips, such as the ones in Europe, are made for sketchbook watercolours and drawings, partly because it's so easy to wander off for an hour and find a place to sit and draw. Also, people in Europe are used to people sitting around and drawing, and are used to being looked at by strangers, whereas Australians (and many people elsewhere in the world) are very aware when they're being observed and may become either annoyingly curious or hostile.

Another difference between this trip and others was that I painted a few oils after I came back, not of "scenes" but rather of made-up, stylized landscapes, as mentioned above.

How did people receive your artwork as you were working and then afterward?

I did everything I could to be anonymous and invisible while on this trip and had little feedback while travelling. But the response after was very positive. For once, the artwork was on separate pieces of paper rather than in a sketchbook and I sold several of them almost immediately.

Do you have any plans for a show in the near future? Is there much difference in terms of exposure of your paintings and/or sketches between Australia and Canada?

I think the "show" of these works, as with the other trips, is on the web. If I get it together to have a proper gallery show in a couple of years I might put some of these images into it. To be honest, I've made so many changes in my life in recent years that it will take a while just to digest everything I did and saw in Australia.

The main difference in exhibiting paintings between the two countries is that I show at a commercial gallery in Vancouver, whereas in Australia I was putting pictures into salon shows and entering juried shows of a couple of the art societies in towns near where we lived.

An interesting "exhibition" of my travel paintings from the United Arab Emirates came out of the blue. The magazine RAK Today in Ras-al-Khaimah published an interview and several of my sketchbook images in its January 2010 issue. The editor had found my web page; the interview was by email and I sent high-res images of the watercolours and pencil drawings to the magazine by email. That article is on my site at www.michaelkluckner.com/trem.html.

Do you have any suggestions for those looking for more exposure for their artwork? And what advice can you give for a young travel painter starting out?

I may be mistaken about this, but it's probably easier to get work shown in Australia than in North America because there are so many open competitions there – which is not to say that showing in a salon is satisfactory, but it is difficult to get a reputable gallery to represent you, either in Australia or North America. There are too many artists, not enough buyers!!

Advice for travel painters: learn to write. If you can create an illustrated narrative you're on the way to storytelling, which I think is the essence of travel art. And the web is an ideal place to exhibit that kind of story, so get yourself a website and learn how to manage it or sign up on one of the free blogging sites and use it to post your work.

Do you have plans for future travel (understanding you've just moved halfway around the world, again!)?

As I write this at the end of March, 2010, we've been living out of suitcases for seven months. We have a household to re-establish, a studio to create and a lot of catch-up to do before I will even contemplate further travel! I guess it will be two years or more before I develop an itch that needs scratching. Maybe.

Gearing up for the Middle East and Eurasia

2010-03-29T11:30:00.000-05:00

Thanks for excusing my absence in the travel painting scene. While I am changing things(life) up a bit, I am happy to report, that I soon will be back on the road again. 6-weeks, overland, travel painting from Georgia to Jordan. Excited to share... Best wishes, Kathryn

Updates Coming Soon

2010-03-28T17:25:00.002-05:00

We interviewed Michael Kluckner recently about his last trip, a tour and farewell of Australia, which will be posted soon. An interview with Tom Laukkanen about his first trip abroad to New Zealand is in the works. Stay tuned.

A Question and Answer with Gregg Fretheim

2010-01-01T10:12:00.016-06:00

The following interview with Gregg Fretheim about his recent trip to Africa was taken in Bloomington, Minnesota on December 4, 2009.

What was the general outline of your trip?

Before I left I decided to go to South Africa where the old Zulu villages are in the east and the game reserves in that area have the black rhino. I planned to fly into Johannesburg and go to the Mkuze reserve and then stay on a private game reserve called Abu Madi. I knew from correspondence between the reserves that transportation was going to be tough so I knew getting any sort of rides was going to be rough but I just had to take it from there.

Did you give yourself a certain amount of time to acclimate yourself once you arrived?

I spent four days in Johannesburg to adjust myself and I didn’t want to be in any rush. I went to Swaziland and stayed overnight and then went down to Mkuze and stayed in a little town called Ubombo. It’s definitely a different world. It’s scrub brush and Tshaneni (Ghost mountain) rises in the distance at the end of the great rift valley. I didn’t know a lot before I left. But as you see more and more it’s like a book that opens up for you. My main stay was the animals and painting the animals because I haven’t done that.

Did you have any idea how you were going to paint the animals?

No. There are painting groups from England that offer trips but I didn’t want to go with a group. They’re very expensive as well. I wanted to maximize the time I had to paint these animals. I saw what some other people were doing and they were very brief sketches of the animals, very brief, so I thought I’m going to be lucky to get a chance to paint any of these animals, and how am I going to see them?

Rides with a professional into the bush can cost anywhere from 200 to 500 dollars a day. I couldn’t afford that so that might be a problem. I corresponded with Martha at Abu Madi and she said they could bring me to a watering hole and have a chance to see the animals in the morning and evening but I really had no idea how it was going to work at all. Everywhere else I tried was very expensive or they didn’t know what I wanted.

So the idea was to drop you off somewhere in the reserve and leave you and pick you back up later?

The idea was to bring me down to a watering hole in the morning, where there’s protection, and the animals come in and I can paint this. Martha told me when I was there in the morning at the watering hole behind protection I would have a chance to paint them. It worked out really well. My driver, Bongani, brought me to the watering hole in the morning and picked me up about five hours later. We became good friends and after a while was bringing me with him to help with his work, so I was able to go on the reserve almost everyday.

So what was the protection?

The sleeping area was inside heavily electrified wire. And when I got to the watering hole the protection area was a small box with a slit in it and no wire. They had three or four major watering holes, one had a fence, the others had these boxes with slits on the ground that you could crawl into.

So there was enough room in this box to setup your easel?

Yeah, at an angle. I had to look either one way or the other. They had a little chair in there but there wasn’t a whole heckuva lot of room. I had to position myself at one end and look out that way which obstructed much of the view so I had to watch for animals only from the angle I was looking at.

Did you find that worked for you?

Oh it did work. It was exhilarating. I’ve never painted with that level of exhilaration before. The anticipation and these animals....

How close was the box to the watering hole?

About 40 to 50 yards away. Some animals were very close, about 20 feet away. I had imagined what it would be like, but this was really different.

Can you describe a scene in front of one of these watering holes as you’re watching it from the box?

So you’re in there waiting, and you hear them coming. You hear the gravel on the road, or they’re breathing and you know something’s coming close and you get ready. Hopefully they will come in. A lot of the animals sensed something quickly. Zebras did - I had only 20 or 30 seconds to get a small sketch of a zebra. They lifted their heads, sensed something wasn’t quite right, and took off. Other animals, the impala came in large groups, would just hang out at the watering hole and that gave way to other animals feeling comfortable. Wildebeests, warthogs, monkeys, came in with the impala laying around and that was nice because it gave me the chance to do many small studies of different animals. And it was special when animals did come by. I spent days, literally days, in this box where nothing came by and I could only hear the animals around me.

And how would you describe the result?

The result is a combination of landscape painting and cave painting. It’s kind of a floating world to get the impact and image of these animals. It’s as fast as I’ve painted to get that image. They were always moving so it was quite a challenge. The exhilaration to being so close to these animals is intense, and some of them are absolutely humongous, and you feel so small in that box, and the reason for that box is protection.

Did you feel protected in that box?

Yeah, but my mind went to wander and knew the black rhino, as schizophrenic as it is, has been known to attack trains, so if it would sense something...it very well could be trouble. Once out on a road in the reserve a black rhino took a charge at our car, we revved our engine, it lifted its head and ran into the bush and hid. Over the next couple days we were hearing stories about a black rhino charging white cars. At the watering hole the rhinos stayed at a far distance. I was hoping to get one close to paint, the tracks showed it had been there during the night. But I was happy to get a sketch of one even at quite a distance. Also, the box had to be checked every morning for snakes, especially for mambas or a spitting cobra, so that was a concern.

So with this intense exhilaration did you feel, looking back at the work you produced, something different?

Yeah, for open air painting it goes to another level. There isn’t even the convenience of the slow sun that moves. This is rapid fire. It must almost feel like a combat situation, it’s like hunting these animals as they come within range to be able to paint them. And the sounds and size of these animals...I’ve seen them at the zoo...but when the driver says I’ll be back in five hours to pick you up, it’s like...well, I’m here with my paintbrush and my easel, if something were to happen, it could be trouble. Everything worked out very well. It was different from a lot of my work. Not having time really pushed me into other areas, all rules and ways I had done landscape before were completely thrown out. It was almost like survival trying to get the animal on the canvas.

I want to move on now to a different subject but one that you’ve touched on before. You’ve previously talked about your approach, or an approach, to painting when you’ve said to go beyond the technical. But for many people that seems like a contradiction. For example, if a painter heard, ‘It’s not about the technical’, they could rightfully say, ‘How can it not be about technique? It’s involved everywhere from mixing the paints to catching the light to the brush strokes. It all seems technical.’

It is for the student. When you start out you study the masters and you see the masters only in technical and not in cause and effect. When I often go to galleries and artist’s web sites, I see a claim that they are Impressionist, Realist, etc. So, can an artist today lay claim to a period of historical art?

I suppose they can but I think it’s more just feel good wishful thinking. I just don’t think that anyone today will be in the history books next to C. Monet. Impressionism, the period, already happened. When you’re a student you start out studying through historic periods like Impressionism, Realism, Pointillism, Cubism, etc. Then, as a painter now, you won’t be living the historic cause and effect of Impressionism but just looking at the technical. The student in their studio can study the period techniques for twenty or fifty years but some artists may feel that they want to break out of that technical bondage to find themselves. This is the hardest question the artist has to ask himself. How do you do this and am I brave enough to go against schools that have their own rules and the artists that created groups of past historic periods?. How does one get out of the technical bondage of the past?

I believe one way is doing the same thing the Impressionists did during their time. They broke away from thinking nature by getting out of the studio where each individual can record nature in their own interpretation, wow, did it work.

You can try starting with small student size canvasses and start going larger and larger. This will be hard to finish, but you won’t be thinking technical, because you won’t have time. You’ll go past the technical and start painting what you see. Some great things will start happening. Stick with it and don’t be afraid. You’ll start finding yourself.

A few days after hearing this I, that is David Frank, was reading from the diary of the Polish writer Witold Gombrowicz. A passage there bore a keen resemblance to the topic above, and I post it as reminder that the issue at hand is as much an individual one as it is a generational one.

I said to Eichler (a young Polish painter):

“I am amazed that Polish painters do not try to exploit their trump card, which is their Polishness, in art. Are you going to imitate the West forever? Prostrate yourselves before painting, like the French? Paint with gravity? Paint on your knees in great deference, paint timidly? I acknowledge this type of painting, but it is not in our nature because our traditions are different. Poles have never been especially concerned with art. We were inclined to believe that the nose was not for the snuff box but the snuff box for the nose. We preferred the thought that ‘man is higher than what he produces.’ Stop being afraid of your own paintings, stop adoring art, treat it in a Polish manner, look down at it, wield it, and then the originality in you will be freed, new avenues will open before you and you will gain that which is the most valuable, the most fertile: your own reality.”

I could not convince Eichler, who had invested a great deal of energy and effort in creating a solid Europeanism for himself, and he merely looked at me in that by now familiar way, as if to say: how easy it is to talk! Painters and sculptors are crushed by the enormity of technical difficulties and so they concentrate on their struggle for the perfect line, color: they do not, generally speaking, desire to extricate themselves from their workshops. They underestimate the fact that a new way of seeing allows them to undo several knots that would otherwise not get untied. When I, therefore, demand of them that they be people who paint, they want only to be painters. I am confident, however, that today we have room in ourselves for thoughts about art which are more specifically ours and more creative.

Do not waste your precious time in pursuit of Europe. You will never catch up with her. Don’t try to become Polish Matisses, you will not spawn a Braque with your deficiencies. Strike, rather, at European art. Be those who unmask. Instead of pulling yourselves up to someone else’s maturity, try instead to reveal Europe’s immaturity. Try to organize your true feelings, so that they will gain an objective existence in the world. Find theories consistent with your practice. Create a criticism of art from your point of view. Create an image of the world, man, and culture which will be in harmony with you, because if you can paint this picture, it will not be difficult to paint others.1

1Gombrowicz, Witold. Diary Volume I. Trans. Lillian Vallee. Northwestern University Press, 1988.

Above is a photo of a friend helping hang paintings for Gregg Fretheim's last gallery show in 2002.

Coming Soon

2009-11-13T08:40:00.002-06:00

Interviews with two travel painting stalwarts, Michael Kluckner and Gregg Fretheim, are forthcoming. As I write, Michael is enduring the heat and dryness of "Outback Oz" (Australia) and challenging it with his watercolors. We look forward to touch in with him after the dust settles. Earlier in the year, Gregg traveled to South Africa to paint the wildlife and landscape on safari. Expect an interview to be posted with Gregg in the next few weeks. If anyone has a question for either one, here's a chance.

Keep painting and keep traveling.

A Brief Biography: Sheila Thornton

2009-09-16T13:10:00.004-05:00

Sheila Thornton is an artist living in Los Angeles, CA. She earned her BFA in industrial design at the Columbus College of Art and Design in 2000. Since then, she has spent half of the last 9 years traveling in various parts of Europe, Africa, North and Central America, and Asia, always with a sketchbook or paint set at hand. Presently, Sheila is planning her next trip to Alaska in the fall.

Sheila has agreed to a few questions about her travel painting and below are her answers.

A Question and Answer with Sheila Thornton

2009-09-16T12:24:00.024-05:00

What mediums do you take when you travel? Oils, watercolors, pastels, etc.? What equipment do you bring?

I usually stick to pencil, ink, watercolor, oils, and/or water soluble oils. There are four 'kits' that I take with me, in any combination, depending on where I am going and how long I plan to stay.

The first kit is what I carry with me in my purse everywhere I go. It consists of: a mechanical pencil, water brush, eraser, fountain pen with water soluble brown ink, and a small sketchbook. This allows me to quickly sketch with pencil, refine the image with the brown ink, and quickly brush in values with the water brush. Then after a few minutes, I can go back and erase any unwanted pencil once it has dried.

The second kit I will take in addition to the first kit for shorter trips lasting 1-2 weeks or less. It includes a small watercolor set, permanent fine line markers, a 6" x 8" sketchbook with thicker paper, and a blue 'shop' paper towel. Now I can add washes of color to my drawings done with pencil, fine line marker, or the water soluble ink.

The third kit is for when I plan on working outside in oils, making small 6" x 8" sketches. This is usually for domestic travel, since it is worrisome to fly internationally with oil paints. These paintings take anywhere from 1-3 hours to complete, so this trip will likely be specifically for doing several oil sketches. This is when I take my wonderful 'Belly River' Alla Prima Pochade box, lightweight tripod, 'survival items', and oil set, all contained in a small backpack. The oil set consists of oil paint, brushes, panels, Gamsol in a jar, paper towels, and a few plastic grocery bags for garbage and anything leaky. The 'survival items' include: a hat, sunglasses, sunscreen, insect repellent, water bottle, snacks, and iPod.

The fourth kit is what I take for international travel, and is what I took with me to the Philippines. It includes a handmade cardboard pochade box with wet-panel carrier, a small set of water-miscible oils, a plastic water jar, brushes, a painting rag, and gessoed cardboard panels. This set is lightweight, ideal for backpacking, and best of all, everything fits inside the box and weighs less than 5 pounds!

What preparations do you make for a trip?

For my international backpacking trips, usually just book my flight online, arrange for any visas, and book my first night's stay. I'll read about and study the countries to have an idea of the places I'd like to go and paint, but for me, independent travel is about flexibility and freedom, so I don't plan a schedule. I enjoy learning about a place and it's people and painting is a fulfilling way to engage in this wonderful process.

What are your favorite subjects to paint when traveling? What is the most difficult subject you have painted?

People are my favorite subject to paint. But while traveling, I enjoy painting landscapes more because it captures the sense of the place, and it is fun to get lost and explore! People are the most difficult to paint because it is unusual to find someone willing to sit long enough to paint them.

Has travel painting presented you with any particular troubles in regard to painting itself, whether it be completion, interruptions, finding materials, etc?

I'm usually good about finishing paintings, even if they are done quickly. And, I haven't had any problems finding materials because I take everything I need with me.

Sometimes it can be irritating if people want to talk to you excessively while you are painting. Or when throngs of kids crowd so close, you can't move your arms to paint! But those are of little concern in comparison to the excitement of painting. If I get too distracted, I quickly finish up and move on. There's no point in struggling with a situation, as this will show up in the painting!

The weather sometimes pose challenges. I've had a few paintings disintegrate on me, when monsoon rains began and dissolved the water soluble oils I had just painted. Also, strong wind and cold weather can cut short a day of outdoor painting. And probably one of the biggest nuisances for me in tropical climates is mosquitoes!

What are the major differences for you between studio painting and painting in open air?

With studio painting, I have all the comforts of home, control over working conditions, and a virtually limitless time frame for painting. Since I prefer to work from life, I generally will work on still life and portraiture in the studio, which is slower paced and meditative. With painting outside, there are many variables, such as the changing light, weather, and movement of people and things. For me, this makes painting out of doors a fast and engaging activity, full of possibilities.

Because of your Filipino ancestry did your experience remarkably differ when you began to paint in the Philippines for the first time compared to other places?

Yes, there was definitely a sentimental feeling I had while painting in the Philippines. Since it is my mother's homeland, and I have such a vast amount of family there, I never know who I could be related to, so I pretend they are all relatives, which makes it that much nicer.

A Brief Biography: Tom Laukkanen

2009-02-22T19:48:00.004-06:00

Tom Laukkanen has been pursuing his art his entire life, and in the last decade he has traveled through a wide swath of the United States with paint supplies stowed in easy reach. He has painted in the Southwestern States of Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona; in Ohio, New York, and Ontario, Canada; along the Missouri River in Montana; prairies in South Dakota; and an array of landscapes and climates in his home state of Minneosta. Tom frequently paints portraits of individuals interwoven into his life.

I had the opportunity of interviewing Tom recently and excerpts from some of that discussion are posted below.

A Questin and Answer with Tom Laukkanen

2009-02-17T19:14:00.024-06:00

The following interview was recorded between painter Tom Laukkanen and David Frank on 21 January, 2009. Tom resides in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA.

I’m curious about the first, I guess you could say, sparks that ignited your interest to begin putting paint on canvas?

My dad being an art teacher, he brought home markers all the time, so he would give me a blank tablet of paper to do whatever I wanted on. The first memory I have of painting, my dad and I went out in the back yard and sat on our picnic table facing our neighbors house, and we did a watercolor of an apple and crabapple tree. As I did the painting, I remember looking to my dad for guidance and he would do the brushstroke, and I would emulate it. I don’t have that first painting, but I do remember the process, and I remember at one point my dad put a little red in for the apple trees and I said, "That doesn’t look like an apple." The apples were in full bloom at that point, and he said, "It doesn’t have to look like an apple." Then I remember taking the red paint and making the same stroke as my dad and thinking, "This is interesting."

It planted in my brain that there’s something else to putting down on the paper exactly what you perceive an apple to be. I wasn’t deep in thought about what that red stroke meant, but that was the first spark that really stirred something in me that I can’t explain. I try to capture that today in my work.

When did you first consider yourself to be an artist?

I always considered myself an artist from an early age. I always spent time drawing and throughout high school I spent an immense amount of time on it. In college the focus shifted onto the classroom setting and partying and all this...
Were you going to school for art at the time?

No, I thought it was something separate. I never even considered it. It was just something I did. I always had my paints with me in college, through unsuccessful attempts to finish paintings, I always kept it around. I think it was in my mid-to-late 20's that I remembered I was an artist. Not when I became, but I remembered it. It always stayed with me but was always put on the back-burner. It just became clear there was something missing in life that I always enjoyed, and it was art. It wasn’t always necessarily the end product but it was the production, the introspection involved in knowing yourself when able to do art, really figuring out what art meant to me and trying to strive towards that.
What was that void that developed and on what level does art reside now in your life?

It wasn’t a void. It was being lost; it wasn’t missing. It was just disorientation. I feel with my art I can become orientated with myself and strive for what’s better for myself and I can let go of those things and turn inward towards myself and figure what’s going on in my life, kind of like meditation. Then the void isn’t necessarily filled but it’s centered to a knowledge of what that void is. So when I act out towards other people, you know, in love or hate, I find that in my work I connect with those feelings and if I can express that inwardly I can come out of the experience being able to express that better outwardly towards other people in my everyday interactions because I’m not letting myself go. I’m not letting go of what’s important to me and that way I can relate better to what’s important to other people as well as myself. I know that feeling that void is just being disorientated for myself and other people.

Is this disorientation something you deal with, or feel, or sense quite a bit even since that time where you re-found your art, or is it something that once you grasp hold of it you have it locked firmly in your grasp? Or is it something more of a struggle?

It’s always a struggle. I find myself losing grip often with keeping things in the right perspective with how I want to live my life. I find that to be a constant. It’s not something I necessarily dwell on, but I know it’s there. There’s times when I’m caught up with work or other people, and I lose sight of the art and then it will call. It will call to me - I need to paint. It seems when I get back to painting and producing I connect with myself and therefore connect better with other people. It’s not necessarily something I always have a hold on, but it’s always within my grasp.

What mediums do you work in when you travel? And why do you work in those?

I started out working in acrylics. They have opacity and the coverage is great. If you make a mistake you can paint over it. Another thing is, it dries quick, since it’s water based. It’s clean. Unlike watercolor you can paint over mistakes.

I had two experiences with acrylics that were disappointing. One time I was in a real dense fog in Kelly Island State Park in Ohio. I felt like I was capturing things, and it was going great, and the fog turned into a light mist, and the painting had nearly everything washed off the canvas. In Arizona a year or two later: the weather was perfect, the sun was shining, 85 degrees, but it was so dry the minute my brush hit the canvas the paint was gumming up, and I couldn’t work with the product. It didn’t matter how much water I put in it. I talked to some people about it and decided I would start using oils.

The first time I used oils was in New Mexico. I brought both acrylics and oils along and some canvases I had borrowed. They were pre-ground in raw sienna, and I started painting over these ground canvases with my acrylics and apparently they had been ground in oil because my paint was beading up. I took out the oil and started working and haven’t looked back since. There are other difficulties - dry time is always a factor and it’s messy. But I can work in snow, I can work in a light mist. It’s never failed on me.

Where do you see your art progressing? What are your ambitions for your art? What challenges are you facing now?
My art will go wherever I go. We travel not only through space but through time. I think sometimes the word ‘travel painter’ speaks of someone traveling through space, but we forget we’re also traveling through time and whether I’m stuck in the same place, if I’m stuck here, time is still moving on, and my painting will follow. I paint the river bottoms near my house, and I paint the people in my life and the experiences that document my place in time and not just my space where I’ve been and where I’ve occupied, but the moments I’ve occupied. I hope my art follows me through time. That’s the one thing that’s constant. My space is forever changing because time doesn’t allow it to stay the same, it doesn’t allow me to stay the same. Whether I’m stuck in a studio, I think I’ll always be a travel painter because it’s time and space. Here I am, here it is. Here it was. That’s it. Hopefully I can keep it honest to myself and not try to dictate to other people what my art should be.

If other people can see something in it that connects with them, that’s great, but I’m not trying do anything but carry it with me. Sometimes I carry my art with me, and sometimes it carries me. It’s my magic carpet. It takes me through time and I take it.

A Brief Biograpy: Kathryn Stedham

2008-12-11T23:22:00.004-06:00

Kathryn Stedham began nearly two decades ago exhibiting her work in the eastern United States. Since that time she has traveled extensively throughout the Orient: to Japan, South Korea, and China; to Cambodia and Thailand, where she was witness to the 2004 Asian Tsunami while painting along Tonsai Beach. Her paintings and monoprints have been displayed publicly and privately in the United States, Canada, and Japan.

Kathryn is currently the Executive Director at Spiro Arts in Park City, Utah. She helped build, both literally and more abstractly, the fledgling program from a century-old mining camp to a "state-of-the-art" residency for visual artists and writers. In the light of achievement, Kathryn humbly concedes the inclusiveness an "Executive Director" encompasses, which includes "office manager, pencil-sharpener, chauffeur, [and] maid." In 2008, the program provided seven artists residency to pursue their work.

Kathryn is soon to travel to Costa Rica and renew the role of a travel painter.

A Brief Biography: Michael Kluckner

2008-07-22T10:46:00.006-05:00

Michael Kluckner is a Canadian writer and artist living in Katoomba, Australia. He has written a cycle of books over the course of 20 years detailing Vancouver and Canadian history, heritage, and culture. In 2007 he uprooted and began painting and chronicling a new landscape in Australia. He works in an array of different styles: Oils, watercolors, pencil sketches, woodcuts, and of course written word.

Michael began travel painting in a tour of Southern Europe and the Mediterranean in the winter of '92 - '93. Since then he has toured through Canada, the Pacific Coast States in the USA, Tasmania, Guadalajara, Turkey, Greece, Crete, and Germany with his paints and sketchbooks. He has an inordinary penchant for Volkswagen autos when traveling but makes ample use of his time walking and hiking the landscapes he records.

Below are a few questions Michael was kind enough to answer about his recent travels.

Q&A on recent trips with Michael Kluckner

2008-07-16T19:34:00.004-05:00

1) Where was your last trip? Where are you going next?

The most recent trip that will lead to a web article on my Travel page, and maybe something in print later on, was to the Thompson River canyon in southern British Columbia in late May, 2008. I had an opportunity to do a raft trip down the river with the people at the Kumsheen Resort, but regardless I wanted to go back there to paint. It is such a challenging place, and although I first went there with a sketchbook in '93 I still don't feel I've got it right. The next trip? Brittany, with a nostalgic side trip to the Basque region of Spain, in September, where I first travelled when I was 20.

2) What is the longest trip you've taken? What trip do you feel was the most successful?

The longest trip was 3 months over the winter of '92-3 in the south of France and Italy. Probably the most successful one was in October-November of 2005 to Turkey, Crete, Greece and, finally, Heidelberg. There's a link to it on my travel page (above). There was an element almost of map-making in some of the pictures I did there, especially the pencil drawings, and pictures of people began to creep in again.

3) How many mediums do you take when you travel? Oils, watercolors, pastels, etc.?

I take a hand-made watercolour sketchbook, usually 10 x 11 inches (one-sixth of an Imperial sheet), a Moleskine book for pencil drawing, and a very small box of watercolours with one squirrel-mop brush and a spray bottle. We travel with carry-on bags so there's not a lot of room and I hate heavy stuff anyway. I don't "paint for the gallery" when I'm travelling -- the sketchbook itself, and digital files of the images suitable for publication, are the final use as far as I'm concerned.

4) What is the most resounding difference for you between working in open air and working in studio?

You get control indoors, especially of the moisture level of the paper, in return for which you have to remember the way the light danced when you were outside. So this little detail of a Heidelberg watercolour: the paper has to be just wet enough to blur the brushstrokes without losing them altogether. It's very difficult to achieve that outside, sitting on the ground on the edge of a trail in the sunshine, and maintain the moisture level so you get a consistency across the image. Yet it's not a bad combination: starting a picture outside to get the proportions and shadows and basic colours, then finishing it inside where the vagaries of memory force you to simplify.

A Travel Story from Peru by Nilton La Rosa

2008-05-08T16:54:00.007-05:00

I think that is very exiting to see somebody coming from so faraway, just to do what he love. I meet Gregg in Pisco; we know each other for 4-5 years. It’s so cool to remember all the places we have visit in Peru and South America.

I was 16 years old when I first met him, I was sitting on a sofa in a Hostal and then he sat beside me; I was working as a tour seller, so the first thing I ask him was, where he come from? and what he was in Pisco for?, he answer me that, he was from the US and that he was in Pisco for tourism; so I thought that he looked like a good client, so we keep talking, and then he asked me for a place where he can paint some fishing boat and how much it will cost him for me to take him there; I just charged him my daily salary, so, he agreed with the price. The plan was only to take him to a fishing port for one day; but I never expect that we would go to so many places and so faraway, with was the best experience of my life, of course I was earning more money and getting a lot of experience; I also want to say that it was very good to travel with Gregg, because he was a very happy person.

Our first trip was to the south of Peru, later we also when to Bolivia, Argentina and Chile for three month, that was the longest trip that I have done in my life, I really enjoy everything; it was so cool to see Gregg doing his painting, so I already start doing painting as well; well I’m not good at it, but I already know what Gregg feel when he is setting there very concentrated doing the thing he love. Our best trip was in the Peruvian Jungle; we when to the east of Lima to La Merced, but our destination was Atalalla-Pucallpa, so we had to go through Satipo and Puerto Ocopo get a boat for 6 hour to Atalalla and then get a bigger boat to Pucallpa. This wasn’t the regular GRINGO trail, but the reason why we decide to go by this area, was because we wanted to see the real life stile of the jugle people and we really did. One day we took a tour for Gregg to paint a water fall, and to get to the water fall we had to walk down a cliff full of trees, there was a heavy rain the night before, so our guide was always asking us to be careful because it was very slippery and there can be some snakes on the way; this was making everything more exiting; later from one moment into the other Gregg slipped and he was close to fall over the cliff, but I immediately grab his feet, this was very scare but we anyways continue.

I think that travel is a good thing in Life and way more when you travel doing the thing you love; is also good for you to open your mine and see that the world is more than what you imagine.

I hope that Gregg never stop traveling and doing painting, but anyways if he one day stop, then I will continue!!! Thank you very much for you help Gregg, a part of my house is already rebuild thank to you; there still a lot to rebuild, but I will keep working hard to rebuild my whole house. Everybody is welcome to Perú; I will be here for anybody who need my help, Nilton La Rosa.

Nilton La Rosa Ramos is a tour guide from Pisco, Peru, a reliable travel companion, and a great friend. Since the catastrophic earthquake hit Pisco last August, Nilton has been slowly rebuilding his family's home and resumed giving tours to travelers trickling back into the area. A fund has been set up to help the La Rosa family. Donations can be made to the The La Rosa Donation Fund at any Wells Fargo bank within the USA. Nilton can be contacted at turisnilton@yahoo.com.

Painting personally vs. painting for others

2008-02-22T15:22:00.003-06:00

A Dutch art student named Siri Hol asked me a number of questions about travel drawings and journals for a project she was doing. "What is the reason you're drawing your travels?" she began. "Do you want to show other people what you've done, is it a personal thing, or is there a different reason? What is the function of your journals?"

Mainly it's personal but there is always the pleasure in new people seeing them and the way in which a drawing/watercolour is interpreted differently by each person who sees it. A travel sketch is an edited version of the reality I experienced, whereas a photograph captures everything in a scene and more or less gives every element equal weight. And the more sketchy and unfinished a watercolour is, the more room it leaves for the imagination of the viewer.

An interesting example of that involved the little watercolour of my wife Christine on the balcony of the Hotel Provençal in a town called Bormes-les-Mimosas on the Mediterranean in January, 1993. It had been very cold in the south of France for a couple of weeks, but the weather improved a bit and our hotel room had a narrow balcony facing south that was bathed in winter sunlight. So lunch went on practically forever, Christine sitting with the crossword puzzle from the International Herald-Tribune, the wine and water bottles still on the table ...

Anyway, the poet Susan Snively, who teaches at Amherst College in Massachusetts, was looking for a cover image for her book Skeptic Traveller, and saw in the image the same feelings as she'd put into her poems. That's the kind of synergy that I also hope to find between my work and work in other media.

A Brief Biography: Gregg Fretheim

2008-02-01T16:32:00.001-06:00

In 1985 I began my journey as a travel painter. By putting my gear in the car and going to South Dakota, the first step began. In 1988 I set out on a trip to paint the world beyond the United States. I did not know how long the traveling would last. If it was to be a week, a month, or a year, I did not know. I did know if I did not begin this journey, test myself as a painter and an artist, and face the unknown world in which I live, I would live in chronic regret of not doing it or at least attempting it. My fears of traveling alone were little when confronted with that other fear of not traveling, not seeing, and not experiencing the world’s unspeakable brilliance.

My first foreign destination was England. Over a year later, and after at least 25000 miles, I returned to the States. After the gales of Wellington, the Newcastle earthquake in eastern Australia, 120 F heat and three day storms full of bulldust in the Outback, the jungles of the Malay, Thailand’s Songkran water festival, and strolls through Venice, Munich, and Paris, an English Bitter in a Birmingham pub never tasted so good. I had become a traveler. This began my goal to paint the natural landscapes and people of each continent, save Antarctica (although I resign nothing to impossibility). I focus on whatever impacts me and infix this force into my work. Since my first trip, I’ve painted further in Asia: the Philippines, Bali, Singapore, Vietnam, Cambodia, Burma, and Hong Kong’s Lantau Island; Central America: Mexico, Belize, Honduras, Guatemala, and Costa Rica; and South America: Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina. I’ve spent roughly two decades painting Asia and Central and South America. I hope another decade each will be spent in Africa, Central Asia, and a final tour of North America. I continued to work in North America through the 90's and have made numerous sketches throughout my travels.

My vision is to create a whole and unified collection of my artwork representing the entire world. Each piece is a part of the whole, and while complete in itself, is part of a greater scheme. I do not sell my paintings for this reason. The collection must be kept together otherwise my vision of the world and its validation, through my artwork, will be lost.

I do not reproduce my works in any alternate form whatsoever. They should be seen as they were first created. I realize mine is not the only way. Nor is mine necessarily the right way. What is important is that my art represent my experience and vision as truly and essentially as possible. I never try to embellish my work or make it a feel good illusion.

I hope this can become a place where other travel painters, travelers, artists, and those who explore all quarters of life, can exchange stories, information, advice, and encouragement to others who are journeying down similar paths. I know it’s a hard and difficult path. There’s constant struggle along the way. But every step forward is an achievement, and what a grand journey it’s been.

My next destination is Africa. Of particular interest to me are the animals of the Serengeti, the Nile, and Hemingway’s plane crash near Murchison Falls. I also believe General Patton said something like, "All plans go out the window when feet hit the ground." I would have it no other way.

Gregg Fretheim currently resides in Bloomington, MN, USA.

A Question and Answer with Gregg Fretheim

2008-02-01T15:39:00.001-06:00

The following was recorded on a cold Minnesota afternoon on January 10th 2008. I, David Frank, provided the questions and hope they will only lead to more. A recording of Spanish guitar played in the background, and trails of smoke from a fine cigar floated through the air.

What were the first steps that interested you in art and painting?
I painted watercolor in 9th grade. That was through a watercolor course that I stayed with all year long. Before that I just drew. I was a failure at math and other things so I worked at things I enjoyed doing which was drawing. I got involved that way.

What made you decide to go to school in the Arts?
I was going after other things I didn’t have a passion for. I was doing things thinking of a career. Maybe to make money, to be successful. I was disillusioned by that and I just decided to see if I could become successful financially in art by making a living at it. Thinking I would make money at something I enjoyed doing.

And that was through illustrating?
It ended up being illustrating because that was my strongest subject. That’s how I got into art and started moving towards doing what I wanted to do and finding out it had nothing to do with money. So by the time I was out of school I was already peeling that off. Going into my own realm of just painting, taking a model outside and just doing work out there. And it just kept going. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I kept the idea of success, or what I thought was success, away from it. I just worked on it myself and with people around me who were doing the same thing.

So then the next step was immersing yourself with people who were doing similar things?
I was immersing myself in nature really. It sounds cliched but it’s the truth. I could drive around and find things I thought would be really neat to paint and go from there. So what was leading me was what you’d probably call nature, and what I was viewing in the natural world was the teacher. And I went after that.

Eventually, after reading and looking at photographs from around the world I thought, ‘God, it would be great to be there. I would like to see if I could paint that.’ With different countries and different colors...it was just exciting. What would happen if I just traveled and painted, and collect the stuff? I just went after things that interest me.

Your first trip was to Birmingham, England?
The first trip was to go to a landscape painting school through Duluth university. That was great. I just exploded. England was incredibly lush. The clouds were five feet above you and it was...just really, really nice. And to be able to be free like that - take my paints where I want to go. We’d go to different gardens to paint, but where I learned the most about travel painting was on the weekends where I would take my personal gear out, hitchhike, go out in the countryside and paint and go back.

And how long did that last?
I finished the school after a month or two, and then I traveled further on my own. I got a rail-pass and went on my own. And that was fantastic. Just staying at the B&B’s, and eating at the pubs, and drinking at the pubs, and meeting people, that was really a reward. I knew this could work. I knew the paintings had a lot of damage. And there were problems with carrying my gear. I knew I had to get different equipment and figure out how to make it work. And that came all through time.

What’s the preperation for a trip?
I try to read a lot before I go. I get my equipment ready. I arrange everything a month ahead of time. I don’t want to carry stuff I don’t need. At the same time, I go into areas that don’t have a lot of materials, so I want to make sure everything I need is there. Turpentine was always a problem because I couldn’t fly with it. I used inflammable turpentine for a while then I couldn’t find it, so I had to use turpentine the environment presented and the quality can vary greatly. Even their best and most refined turpentine was kind of a nightmare. It forced me to work fast so I didn’t have time to sit and worry about it. I had to make it work. The restrictions it put on my painting forced me to look at things a little differently.

How did that change your painting?
Some turpentine has a binder unit that is very sticky. Even the most refined turpentine, a very small jar, can be about $40. I would buy it and it still had a binding, sticky unit in it. It would form a layer over everything, sort of like a glaze, but it had some pleasant surprises as well. Sometimes I couldn’t go for the full painting, but for scenarios, and I put the scenarios together as best I could with the speed that I had. Some of it worked out. It wasn’t as fluent with energy and speed as I prefer it. It was fun altogether. It was part of the experience.

Was there a certain area harder to find good turpentine?
The north of Vietnam was tough. I had stuff where I could literally stick the handle of my brush to my palm and it would stay. That’s the stuff you clean your brushes with. It would cut the paint, but to paint with it...it definitely cut my speed because it just wouldn’t spread, and it would layer and depending on what paint I used, it would just disappear. It was a challenge, which is fine. I was never expecting it when I went there. I just had to modify and I did. I’ve used gasoline, or whatever. I’ve used lighting fluid for torches in the Phillippines...just anything I can spread the paint with.

Have you ever lost a painting?
Oh yeah. Once the wind was so strong it lifted a painting off the easel, the easel tipped over, and the painting hit a fence and broke the stretcher bar...which can be a problem. But I’ve been pretty lucky. Most of the damage comes through carrying it back...a lot of my work has scratches, but that’s all part of how I’m doing it in my time. It doesn’t affect the painting visually, only if you examine it closely can you see it.

I have been very, very lucky not to have lost the case where I keep my paintings, or lost my paints. I’ve just been very lucky. I suppose if that ever did happen, I would just go to the nearest city and pick up what I can find.

What’s really nice about travel painting is that there isn’t any one process to follow or a guide to tell you how to go about doing it. It’s a learning process for me. I seem to be experiencing nearly every facet of it, and I’m bound to after so many years. All travelers know, it’s bound to happen to you in one way or another.

When you come to a new place everything is new, unknown. How do you go about learning about a place or finding your way around?
A lot of areas I go to aren’t tourist attractions, it’s not somewhere most people go. I’ll hear where places are, where the watering hole is, where an old church is falling apart...it may be in a village a long way away, so I have to find a driver able to take me there.

When I go into these environments, I feel alive and am searching for visuals that the people who live there like. Visuals that they see everyday that are very nice, that very much describe the environment these people live in. I listen to what people have to say and look at photographs and pictures too to see if I would like to go there. Some of these areas are stunning and they should be seen. Whether I paint them or not, I want to say I was able to experience it.

To the person who says, "I don’t get painting," or "I don’t get art? It just doesn’t connect." How do you respond to that? Or is there a response?
Nature affects people in different ways. Whether they’re willing to open up and allow themselves to hear or see things in their own time...maybe something might have to happen to them for them to see certain things. I don’t think it can be forced on somebody. I suppose someone could read and start being more educated on it. But I think that’s really what the artist is doing, what I’m doing - looking at things in pictorial of an impact instant. And when I see it I know I see it, I know I have it. And it’s just really stunning. And it takes a long time to develop skills needed to see, needed hear, to be able to sing. These skills have to be worked on. Somebody who doesn’t understand it either won’t or will figure out a way to start the process of experiencing life.

Art is a mirror held up to Nature?
Yeah, and the answer for the individual is within the natural system. The natural system makes you find the answers for yourself. If somebody has been in a system and been taken care of, they don’t need the answers for themselves unless they get stuck outside and have to figure it out for themselves. It’s about what’s going on inside. When the answers for what is Beauty, and what is Love, and what is Sublime start affecting you, you’re on a solo journey. There’s nothing I really can say to anyone. It’s the circumstance of where they’re at in their life.

What is the chief aim of the artist through his work? Does art speak solely to the individual or is it something larger than that?
I only reflect the world from myself. If the work has impact of nature then it can stir me and have an effect on me.

So it’s the natural self...?
How can landscapes, and trees, and simple things give me the answer? I know when I see it. It stirs me. It just gives me the answer.

And what is that answer?
When I’m doing my work and there’s a celebration inside then I know I’ve got it. And that celebration gets transferred to other people who see it who are traveling down the same path. I can only base it on the individual.

Why is the painter not celebrated today as compared to the past? Is the painter too old-fashioned?
Could be. The generation may be too involved with the computer. There are new technical challenges. But it doesn’t matter what materials you use, it’s the way you go about doing it. That’s the key. It’s not the technical. There are other travel painters I see when I’m traveling and I take a look at their work and it’s singing for our time now. It’s alive, and it’s talking right to me. It just hits me. There’s nothing to be said.

You work with the intention that one day people will look at your work. How do you want your work to be viewed? And how important is exposure?
I’m taking the approach now to have control of my work and watching it very closely, whether that’s correct or not. I had a show in 2002, and I had complete control of it. I rented out the space, put the money towards it, and lined everything up, and put it out there. There was nobody in-between the viewer and the work and that’s the way I wanted it. There’s no other purpose than to let the people experience it. If you have too many people on the wheel steering, you’re eventually going to go off course. I wanted to make sure I have that control at this point, and I probably will my whole life. When I look at someone else’s work it’s really nice to see the artist through his own struggles and just not trying to please somebody.

How painful is that struggle when you devote so much of your energy and life into this and are virtually unrecognized?
I think the painting and struggle keeps you in line with the direction you have to go and keeps a check on you. That’s where the struggle is. I would imagine if I had to make 10 paintings a month and sell them, eventually I would find ways to make those 10 painting technically sound to where I could produce a lot without having to think too much, other than the process, and try to get away from the struggle and just make money. From a struggle aspect, the last thing you’re thinking about is making money. I don’t go overseas with my easel and think about what’s going to sell, or what’s the fashion of the time.

Is there an advantage to being the outsider?
There definitely is. I didn’t show my work for 16 years. I let people take a look at it, but I never showed it. Many artists say, "You should show your work, it’s a part of the process." And it is. But that’s not the way I work. I don’t have a venue to show all the time. If I had it I probably would, but I don’t have that. Being frustrated by not showing or not exposing in my time, I think everyone has that. But from what the past shows about other artists who struggled all their lives and never being shown, who am I to bellyache and complain? There’s a part of me saying, ‘I’ve been doing this for twenty-some years, and I want to get exposure.’ I’m not asking for money. It would be nice to get exposure. But it’s up to me to do it. We all want to be celebrated in our time in some way.

And the longer I work, the bigger the fire will be in the back hill in South Dakota when I burn my work and drink my beer (laugh). But if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. And that isn’t the reason I’m doing this. I’m doing it because it’s just in my path.

What is that desire for some artists to destroy their work after they die?
It could be that it’s underground and they never had a chance to express themselves, or there was not a format to express themselves in their own time. And if they’re not going to celebrate their work in their own time, they might think, ‘To the hell with it, I’m going to be dead, I’ll destroy it.’ That’s the way I think they’re thinking. If society doesn’t have a vent to express their work when they’re alive why should they care when they’re dead? A lot of the greatest artists of their time were celebrated after they died.

After you’re dead, what difference does it make if your work is there or isn’t there?
Well, Norman Rockwell said, "How you did your artwork is going to deteroriate, to fall apart. That’s not my problem. The next generation is responsible to produce their own work. I had my time.’ Of course he was celebrated in his time. And I’m not one to say whether society is right or wrong when dealing with people’s work. I find it easier to step outside society and run on my own. I prefer to tap into other artists and start up a nice discussion. Not an angry discussion but a thought provoking one on the difference between pleasing and filling yourself up.

So who is art for ultimately? Everyone, no one?
It’s important for me here and now. And are you brave enough to keep going. I know people who say, ‘I’m going to make it to the end. This is going all the way.’ And after so many years you don’t hear anything from them, whether they’re still working or not. I think that’s one of the basic problems in society that there are people working and not communicating. I think strong periods in art form when artists are working together...usually small art groups. Young guys get together, form a friendship, and develop a strong movement...until they all have to make a living and fall apart.

How is travel intimately connected to your artwork?
In a sense the trip isn’t outside but inside. So all artists are traveling inside. It just depends on how much fear they can break down to keep going deeper inside. Traveling and the struggles of that are incredible ways of self-reflection and through all this the work becomes free. It’s free from any kind of thought whether it’s a success or not. It’s just what you see?

And is travel necessary for this freedom of the spirit?
It might be for me because of the stimulation. Once I got in the car and traveled to South Dakota and began to see how spectacular other places can be, it just kept me going. Somebody doesn’t have to do it that way. I look around myself and search out new experiences and follow that. That’s been the key to how it continues, and it’s an endless, endless process. Adventure and life are ahead and I just paint off that reflection. It’s just constant. I don’t have to try and think about a successful painting or how to make one, I’m just too busy capturing my time through the adventure of my life. It leads you. We’re all traveling. It’s the fear you have to break down.

Have you been able to see this through your artwork? As you dig deeper inwardly has it shown itself outwardly?
There’s an instant gratification. Some of my work has been sitting untouched for years and if I pull it out sometimes it shocks me, stirs me. Who did this? I lived this but what that’s saying...I don’t know. It’s fresh and re-shocking me again. My senses have lived it but after a while I’m not going through it. After I pull it out it’s alive.

What hits me hopefully will hit another viewer and split their head. And there’s a good chance if it stirs me, it will stir them.

If it doesn’t stir your head. What exactly does it stir? What inside of you becomes excited?
It’s not just through painting. I think it’s the human connection of life and nature. The oneness of nature...I know it sounds cliched...all religions in essence talk about it. It’s all things becoming one. That’s what it is and you’re actually living it and having a chance to really touch that. And it’s stunning and radiating. It seems like it’s radiating from me but it’s actually from what I’m seeing. If I connect with the painting and get it, there’s not a better feeling. I seized a piece of life that I experienced without manipulating it. It goes beyond what I could ever manipulate. When I look at some pieces of the old masters, it hits me. It goes past the technique and into me. It’s stirring me. It’s connecting. If it were about technique I would go closely up to the work and my eye would start examining and I would be stopped.

You’re asking me to put this into words, and I’m trying my best to do so. It goes beyond anything I can say. Maybe you can relate to what I’m trying to say.

The technical part is not a challenge to me. The challenge is to go one-on-one with nature and to get this. And it’s never easy. Sometimes I think this is going to work, and it just doesn’t. It’s a little gift given you from nature. And you don’t know when it’s going to come. But when it comes you know it. And if it’s a gift to me, then hopefully, somebody will get the gift. Would I hope people would travel, go to these places, and see it for themselves? Yes, but if they’re not going to, my hope is one of these paintings might stir them for an environment that stirred me.

Certain paintings stir you, certain sculptures stir you, and this is the universalness of art that relates to me as an artist. Artists relate unified in the spirit. Something says this is so profound...there’s no thinking nature. What can you say about a sunset without screwing it up? It’s something you look at and it’s beyond you. Being able to translate that from whatever form of art to another individual is a success. That’s the type of art I’m looking for whether in writing, or painting, or sculpture. All the artists who are working towards that...I know it, and they know it. It's like a code of celebration. And it’s unified from the earliest time onwards. I have to do it in my time with the medium I have.

How do you react to a critique from somebody looking at the same artwork as you but who comes away with a very different reaction?
I treat critiques by not giving critiques. I usually don’t like to talk about my work at all. It’s up to the viewer. If I look at another artist’s work and there is something that stirs me, I’ll let them know. But I’m not there to try and make it better. To me if it works then it works, if it doesn’t then it doesn’t. If I go to the Phillippines and paint a boat scene and bring it back, who’s to say it should be different, without their experience of going over there and seeing it? I’m trying to be mindful and having respect for artists rather then telling and really holding somebody down in a temporal aspect. And the painter should know...should know if it worked for them.

Say your next trip is to be your last trip, say something happened, a plane crash or car accident or whatever, would you be satisfied with what you have accomplished?
Yeah, I set this up to do the best I can in segments. I know when I was younger I had more energy and could see more places and probably produce more. As I get older I’ll have more problems physically. In these sections, in these areas, I did my best. There will be no regrets. There will be changes, there’s changes already. I’m seeing better now. I’m seeing things with impact much easier now. I have a little more confidence, even though it doesn’t necessarily work out this way, that I can get it.

Is this a good time for the individual?
Yeah, yeah, it’s the hardest time. We're in a hard period. Something is happening, it’s just not being celebrated. So much of the great art hasn’t been celebrated in its time. I believe that travel painting is on that edge right now. How long can people endure the physical struggle? That’s always a question. It’s a tip of an iceberg of what’s being shown, compared to what’s out there. The energy level of the people that I ran across, the travel painters I have crossed on my travels, is the same as mine. They were all on fire. All of them said, "This is our time to do it." The world is coming together as one and this is where the artist is.