Oil on panel. Framed. 3 feet wide. 5 feet tall
Many times, success in the Arts is dependent on your mentor. I learned from an old world immigrant named Leroy. He was a man’s man, the type you wouldn’t find at university anymore, like John Wayne with a penis. He was aged when I took his course and, like the lever action thirty-thirty hunting rifle he kept leaning in the corner of his painting studio at all times, his sights didn’t line up so well, but you wouldn’t want to step in front of him when he was loaded.
For three hours a day, the small group of painters in our group would stand in a large circle, measuring with pencils, and meticulously drawing a still life made up of industrial screws, liquor bottles, barbed wire, small animal skulls, and anything else he might find in the trunk of his old Ford. There were no bathroom breaks because, as he would say in his think ethnic German accent, “Zer vas no Pizzing in zee var.” No one dared remind him that the war was long over and free people can piss when they want.
Many of you might ask why I, or anyone else for that matter, would tolerate that kind of abuse. And how in the heck could a guy like that be responsible for my success in the Arts? Well, after a number of years of experience with the general public, Leroy called them civilians, I can say with certainty that it is Leroy's brutality that conditioned me to endure the kind of thing than would turn a softer creative type into a puddle of despair.
See my first post in this series if you would like examples of some of those things:
https://steemit.com/art/@acolucky/making-art-and-being-an-artist
And the second if you are interested:
https://steemit.com/art/@acolucky/making-art-and-being-an-artist-part-2
Thank you.