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Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

I'll bet when you saw that title Running Gear, you immediately thought I meant shoes, shorts, jersey, (knee brace!).  Actually, I had something else in mind.  Let me explain.

It's a beautiful morning in Jefferson, perfect for the early run, but various parts of me didn't want to go for some reason.  The rest of the parts of me yanked them into submission and we were moving.  But wow, what a slow start.  The most vigorously protesting parts had shoes on them and they were doing their best to drag.  It occurred to me that going so much slower than normal, was making it extra difficult and if I just kicked it up a notch to the norm, that it would even out.  Yup, it helped.

That made me think back to when we were kids growing up on the farm in Nebraska.   (shut your ears OSHA--you don't want to hear this) All six of us kids knew how to drive tractors by age ten.  Dad would put us on a tractor to go rake hay or some such task, always setting us up with good instructions.  We would ask how fast we were supposed to drive.  Running gear.  A speed appropriate to the task, so we could work steadily.  If we used too low a gear, we were wasting time.  If we used too high a gear, we were either abusive to the equipment, or the work quality suffered.  But steady-- steady was good.  Running gear is steady.

There's running gear for artists as well, you know.  Sure, all the equipment and and paint and canvases--kind of like the shoes, shorts and knee braces for the down the road style runner. 

But that kind of running gear is worthless unless we've got the second kind to go with it.  The steady.  Accomplishing the work in front of us with a speed appropriate to the task. 

-- Too low a gear and we're wasting time.   If we are not in the studio on a regular schedule, time's a-wasting on our journey of getting there as an artist. 

--An artist's running gear that's too high, brings to mind people who think they can skip the work of experience and just zoom to the finish line.  Yeah, yeah there are 3.5 people out there somewhere who probably managed to do just that--zoom right to the finish line--but the rest of us need steady.  A speed appropriate to the task.  A running gear to get us down the road of our artistic journey. 

Go find your running gear, and have a lovely painting day!

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  We're having great duck weather here, so a good day to write this article :)

I was reading email earlier this morning.  A link to an artist's website came to my attention.  So of course I visited.  May I say again?  Yowza.

The artist's website opened with a musical prelude.  Okay with that.  I clicked to open the portfolio page.  We always want to see the paintings, right?

The portfolio was set up on a conveyor belt kind of gizmo that ran the paintings across my screen, right to left.  If you hovered the mouse on a painting image, it zoomed in that painting, but did not slow down it's trip across the monitor.  How long did it take to get from monitor right, to done and gone?  A count of three.  No, I am not kidding.

If you google the subject, there are plenty of people out there giving you plenty of rules for how to have the best artist website ever.  And truth be known, there is variance in some of those rules lists.  Opinion always enter in.  But I think we can all agree on the bottom line of this issue:

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PAINTINGS. 

(yes, you may insert sculpture, ceramics, etc as needed) 

It's NOT about your technological genius.  I don't care if you know how to create a mind boggling light display---you brought me to your website to see your artwork.

There is that acronym KISS.  Keep it simple, stupid.  And I think it is well applied here.  Show your paintings, your art.  Give the viewer what they came for:  beautiful, amazing art.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.  Yesterday was a scary spring day.  Yup, a snowstorm.  The good news was I wasn't home to suffer through it.  I was in North Liberty (the little burb on the north side of Iowa City, Iowa)  I was there learning about intake and output.  Let me explain:

Daughter and son-in-law need to sell their house there, as the job has already moved them.  The real estate agent says you have to get those wall colors toned down before we can get it sold.  (I had nothing to do with those ebullient colors, absolutely not)  But they were desperate for help, so I said I'd get it done.  I had a two day window of opportunity, the schedule was prime on day one, and cover it all up with "cosmo cream" on day two.  Two bedrooms and a bathroom.  May I share that was WAY too tight a schedule?  Paint, paint, paint, paint, paint.  No time for eating even, and that's saying a lot for me!  I did manage a decent meal at the close of day one.  On day two I rolled paint while I alternately swiped a spoon at a container of yogurt.  This morning back in Jefferson, it was time for the morning run, and yup, you guessed it.  All that bad nutrition hit like a load of bricks.  Aaach.

Does that relate to the artist?  But of course.  It always does around here.  Intake for artistic output.  Surely you saw that phrase coming?  Possibly there are other forms of intake the artist needs, but I personally consider them all irrelevant without the numero undo.  STUDY.  Surely you'll agree that study is to artistic output, as good nutrition is to the morning run? 

We've talked before about the summer art fair venue.  It's easy to find new artists and new work on that scene.  But it's also easy to find the artist who brings the same old thing every year.  No progression. No building of work.

I was once at an art fair visiting with a group of fellow artists.  The discussion had centered on drawing.  One artist piped up with "I don't have time to learn to draw, I'm too busy creating my work."  What?!!  To me, drawing is to the artist, as tires are to the car--kind of necessary to fulfill the requirements.  And yet that artist could not find the time to even start to learn.  And yes, the conversation happened several years ago, and her work hasn't changed a bit.  Or grown at all.  Same old, same old.

I am a big fan of life drawing as a learning tool, but there are other modes of learning equally beneficial.  If you aren't currently a dedicated learner, I encourage you to grab hold of some learning opportunity and run with it.  Our painting all needs to be another notch up the ladder of progress by this time next year, and there's only one way for that to happen.  Study.

Thanks for stopping by.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

I was going to stop at #2.  Really.

And then, here's what happened:

I had two paintings to deliver.  We agreed to meet halfway, so neither of us would have too long of a drive.  So, we met and were sitting at Panera, having a cup of coffee, talking about the fund raiser for the Linn Creek Arts Festival  (Marshalltown, Iowa) which the two paintings will hopefully help with.  After a good chat, one of the committee members handed me my check for the paintings, and I prepared to leave.  She stopped me with "oh, wait, I have to do a write-up for our newsletter, and I want to make sure I've got all the details correct."  I'd already given the committee a copy of my artist statement and info about the paintings.

What she said next made me realize #3 had to be written.  Here we go.  She said:  "I know a little bit about art, but sometimes it can get confusing.  These are real paintings, right?  With all the things people do to paintings lately, sometimes it's hard to tell."  Oh dear.  So you see?  I have to write this, take #3.

And then I remembered my recent visit with the computer tech.  I'd taken the desk top beast in for help.  We talked about a part that had three initials on the front and six or seven on the back of it's name.  All Greek to me.  I am not a computer tech, and I don't know their language.  Every now and then, I try, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to spend a lot more time with it to get it.  I am not a construction worker, and I don't know their industry lingo, either.  Nor  am I a doctor, and maybe that's why we have web md, the lay person's guide to should-I-go-see-my-Dr?  We are artists and in our conversation cache are words like copies, reproductions, limited edition reproductions, giclees, enhanced giclees... 

I wondered: if computer tech talk is Greek to me, then are limited edition reproductions and giclees just like Greek to the bus drivers of the world?  The physical therapists?  The gourmet chefs?

I went to an alternate website and asked people this:  "...I am working on a project and need opinions from normal people (not artists!) Do the words reproductions, prints, giclees and paintings all mean the same thing to you? Or are they separate and distinct? Couldn't care less?! :) No right or wrong answers, but I do need real people insight..."

Was this a numerically constructed and officially supervised survey?  NO.  It was a what-do-you-think inquiry.  Nothing hermetically sealed in a mayonnaise jar on Funk and Wagnall's back porch.

Interestingly, most of the responders were teachers, there was a mental health professional, an arts center staff member (theater), a CPA, a gallery owner and of course, artists. I didn't consider the gallery owner's personal views, because she also is an artist, but speaking for her clients she said "But in the industry it does make a huge difference how you list reproduced products." which I think echos the thoughts of an earlier commenter that educating patrons is important.  I'll list a few responses and please note that they are unedited (and I MEAN that) quotes:

1.  "I'm totally uneducated in art lingo, but as a normal consumer, to me painting means an original, prints and reproductions are copies, and a giclee sounds highbrow enough that I probably couldn't afford it."

2.  "I don't know about the "normal" part, and although I would love to be an artist, I am not, but here's my opinion on this. To me, the word reproduction or print, means "cheap", and painting means a one of a kind original that I would buy. Giclee? After googling it, and finding out it's an inkjet print, I was disappointed. The name sounds much fancier than that. :)"

3.  "Reproductions,prints and paints all have a distinctive different meaning in my mind; not sure if they're the right meanings, but... I've never heard of giclees but I love learning new words so I'll look it up and add it to my vocabulary!"

I was pleased to hear that these three commentors, as well as most of the rest, knew there was a difference between reproductions or copies, and paintings, and understood them somewhat.  The word giclee however, was a problem. 

Early comments to this discussion (take #1 and #2) mentioned that it was nice to have a reminder of an artist, and a reproduction can do that.  It makes me think of VanGogh posters of Starry Night in the art center gift shop.  Everybody knows they are copies, but they are reminders of time spent at the gallery viewing paintings.  They often have a title and artist listed in text, down at the bottom in the margin.  We can all mentally image that, right?  No doubt of what their purpose is.

 Does that bring us to the giclee?  Wait:  maybe we need the dictionary: 

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

Last time I was here, we discussed reproductions.  Okay, maybe not so much a discussion as the resident artist airing strong opinions.  These things happen.

Today we need to look at reproductions again, but this time from a seldom used viewpoint.We need to ask the question:  is it good for the artist?  Really, is making a reproduction of your artwork good for the artist in you?  I have an anecdote for this, and don't I always?!

437 years ago (give or take a few) when I was in high school, there was a school policy regarding inviting students into that esteemed group, The National Honor Society.  The bylaws, or articles of order, or some close relative thereof stated that invitation was based on the overall academic profile of the student.  You may read into that, GPA, or grade point average.  The first year my classmates and I were eligible to be invited to NHS was our sophomore year, based on the track record/grade book of the freshman year.  We had a couple of true brainiacs in our class, the kind of people who got A's no matter how hard the class was.  But the rest of the invites that year, hmm, no tough classes on their schedules--no wonder they got A's AND invited to join NHS.  What was wrong with this picture?  Always the rebel, I continued to take the hardest classes available, I was not taking the slacker route to NHS, no-siree-bob!  No brag, just fact  :)  Did I ever make it into National Honor Society?  Yes, just barely--I think they were signing my diploma and kicking me out the door about the same time I got my invitation.  Ha.  So much for that.

But was the award the achievement, or the learning from the serious effort that really scored?  I like to think that at the end of four years and the beginning of the rest, by taking the tougher classes and devoting more effort to study, that I had gotten to a better place than those who were not working quite so diligently.

Turn it back around to art.  And reproductions.  And whether they are good for the artist.  On my Reproductions Rant, Take #1 :) that I wrote a few days ago, a very interesting comment came in asking "a steady stream of income for the lazy artist?"  I think we played it lightly at the time, but it's still kind of hanging around in my thoughts.

Ouch.  Can the reproduction become an enabler?  No need to work too hard today, that painting I did last summer is still selling one every now and then?  And seriously, if you are in the business of selling copies, why would you plan on working in the studio eight hours a day?  No need, right?  But wait, what about the learning, and the experiences, and the growing of skills?  Making and selling reproductions might work for the short haul, but what about the long run?

And right here I'll save that artist that wants to talk income needs from wording a comment.  Because when you ask an artist why they make reproductions and you've heard their number one answer:  "some of my patrons don't have enough money for a real painting" comes the number two answer:  I have to make a living and if I didn't have reproductions, I would hardly ever sell anything at all."  Are you sure?  About the "can't sell originals" part?  Because other people do.  Do people buy your reproductions instead of your originals because they can?  Because they are there, and someone told them it was okay?

There have been times at the lovely summer art fair venue, where people come into my exhibit, get involved with a painting, and then ask for a smaller copy.  When I explain my only originals policy to them, almost ALWAYS the reaction is the same.  They blink, say "oh!" and they buy the painting.  Well, the blink and "oh" are variables, but the part about buying the painting--the original--that's pretty much how it works. 

And so again we ask, is the reproduction good for the artist?  Are you taking the easier road making reproductions of work you did a while back, or are you in the studio creating new everyday, gaining new experiences as you go?

We all have "role model artists" we aspire to, right?  When I look at the websites of my favorites, people whose work I admire and whose level I would love to achieve some day, I don't see reproductions available, or print-on-demand anything.  I see originals.  Paintings that are one of a kind.  Work that shows the artist has been in the studio, not out making reproductions.

Thanks for stopping by.  Have a lovely painting day  :)

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

A recent FineArtViews newsletter article started out on the subject of copying another artist's work off the internet.  Good article.  You should go read it.  Several angry comments had been added by artists who'd found out their work had been copied by others via the internet, copies not authorized by them.

About halfway through the comments you start to hear mention of reproductions.  Hmmm.  Reproductions.

Reproductions.  Copies.  Giclees.  Enhanced giclees.  Artists angry because copies have been made, but still making copies anyway.  Fakes.  NOT originals.   

I once painted a painting for a fund raising auction at church.  One of the organizers asked if we could also auction a couple of copies of the painting.  A good cause, right?   So I said yes.  If you are either of the two people who bought those copies, you are still safe.  If anyone else out there in the world has a copy of one of my paintings, well, don't blame it on me.  Other than those two, I don't do copies.  Reproductions.  Giclees.  Any of those.

Am I an art snob?  Maybe.  Do I like real?  Do I place a lot of value on honest?  Authentic?  Absolutely.

You can talk about the limited edition reproduction and how only 300 copies were made and they are all signed and numbered by the artist.  So?  The only time the artist even touched the piece of paper the thing was printed on was to add that signature and number.  And then we have the all important giclee.  Aaaah.  The giclee.  The artist's original painting computer printed on a piece of canvas.  And then we throw in the enhanced giclee:  when somebody takes the regular old normal giclee and swipes a couple brushstrokes across the surface to make it look like a real painting.  Hunh!  But it's not real. 

Why?  What's the real reason for making a reproduction?  Yes, VanGogh and Monet are dead and they can't paint anymore paintings.  So you spread the love a little of what they did by means of copies.  But remember, they're the dead guys, no more paintings from them.

What about your average artist in the little white tent at the summer art show?  Why copies? 

Number one answer: 

"My patrons just love my work, but some of them can't afford an original right now."  (So you'd rather sell them a fake??)

Okay, so now we're getting around to covering the title of this post.  For the impatient.  WAIT.  Get some patience.  Sign up for the artist's mailing list so you stay current with their new work.  Most artists love to stay in touch with people who appreciate their art.  Some will even do payments to help you out.  Even still, save up a few dollars so when you see that artist again you'll be ready to buy a painting.  Not a copy.  Not a reproduction.  A Painting.  A real one.  Honest.  Authentic.  Real.

Because when you get to the bottom line, a painting printed out by a machine is NOT art.  It's just a copy.

Thanks for stopping by.

Later, Cooper

Greetings,

Welcome to the Cooper studio, Jefferson, Iowa.

We've all read some of those artists statements where the person knew they were going to be an artist way back in kindergarten, because they chose to color outside the lines in their coloring books.  I guess coloring outside the lines means creative spirit, staying inside the lines makes you a conservative that has no vision.  Sheesh.

And then I ventured over to twitter land this morning and found this very interesting article:

http://www.finearttips.com/2010/10/create-a-niche-market-for-your-art-in-a-sea-of-artists/

(author Annie Stack, offered up on twitter by Lori McNee)

It's about analyzing the art market and finding/painting for your niche in it so you can hopefully sell significant numbers of paintings.  Kids are supposed to be coloring outside the lines so they can be artists.  And adults are supposed to find their niche and get into it, stay inside their lines, so they can be artists.  Outside the lines, inside the lines, what's it going to be???

There's that old saying "don't put all your eggs in one basket" and I think it has application to this conversation.

I promote that as artists we should have one big basket.  Big enough to hold our niche, our painting style.  We should carry it with us most of the time, and have it within easy reach ALL of the time.  After all, if it really is your basket, then it's who you are. The carryall for the journey forward.  But there are times when that big old basket gets heavy.  Restrictive.  The painting start to gets a little stiff.

And so I think we should have a silly little basket too.  And it probably ought to have crayons and a coloring book in it.  One where lines are ignored.  We could take it down off the shelf for an hour or two as needed.  A little recess from carrying the big basket.  Aaaah.  The pause that refreshes.  Possibly we might even find something in the silly little basket that needs to be moved over into the big basket.  Who knows?  Anything's possible.  Happy painting.

Later, Cooper