DAAG: INTERVIEWS: ROBERT GENN

In the "Painter's Keys" you jokingly mention something about being a psychiatrist for artists. Do you feel like a psychiatrist for artists sometimes -- when doing a workshop, for example?"

It always seemed to me that the most nutty people were attracted to psychiatry. In trying to figure myself out and trying to understand my own artistic motivations, I started to see similar tendencies in others. The study of artists, their attitudes, habits and hang-ups fascinated me. Early on I noticed that two people of similar talent and seeming potential achieved differently, even though their goals might be similar. I wondered if there were underlying psychological elements that determined creative continuation, happiness, success, etc. In workshops it's somewhat easy to spot some of the ploys, the defeat mechanisms, the games people play.

For example, what might some of these "ploys," "defeatist mechanisms" be? Have you been able to define them and come up with ways to help artists touch base with their inner uniqueness and strengths?

Fear of success haunts even experienced artists. This results in a kind of creative constipation where artists stick to familiar paths. They are afraid to open up and explore their potential. I've found a simple way to clear this: I start by handing them a lot of free canvas, paper, or boards. They simply get the idea that the stuff is free so they may as well fill it up. To many, particularly beginners, it's all a frightening mystery as if there was only one way, one recipeI try to change their thinking to an "anything goesthink as you go" mode.

I have often wondered how an artist of your stature overcomes the fear that a piece he's completed and made public might be rejected. Do you sometimes have doubts? What are your fears? How do you deal and overcome these?

Mostly I just worry about doing my best. I've got to the point where I'm quite confident because I'm exploring a lot of aspects of what's interesting. That's what keeps me at it. It's nothing to do with acceptance. I get interested in something, try to make something out of it, and send it out into the world. Sooner or later someone connects with the result and it goes to a good home. Which completes the magic circle which in turn allows me to keep inflicting myself on this world. Right now I can't think of anything I fear, except that I might run out of canvasses.

I wouldn't rule either of them out. But I've become a believer in introspection. I think artists can figure it out for themselves. Learn who their demons are and how to fight them. An amazing number of problems I see in artists are simply based on bad habit formation. Understanding and dealing with my own Attention Deficit Disorder has been valuable. You tend to tailor your expectations within the bounds of your limitations.

I never identified it as such until recently. I always noticed I had a short span of concentration. I'm easily bored. Yet I am able to concentrate well on jobs that hold my interest. So I choose projects and techniques that are in tune with my span.

I've learned to deal with it. Apparently a high percentage of ADDers go into some creative field. It suits them. The easel is something from which you can come and go. It's not like having to watch a donut machine.

I don't know whether I'd characterize a lot of it as lofty thinking. But I do think that a wide range of interests and philosophical insights are valuable to artists. They enrich the base on which an artist builds his sensitivity and creativity. Having said that, there are a few people who never think much about anything and they turn out to be damned fine artists.

The early Renaissance and post-Renaissance painters focused most of their energy on painting religious subjects or subjects somehow related to the divine (Michelangelo's David, Leonardo's Madonna & Child, Titian's Venus and Adonis, Bellini's The Feast of the Gods, etc). This seems to indicate that these artists saw a human need for belief in higher entities who possessed perfections not of this world and, therefore, able to inspire. Indeed, the great and admirable mastery of technique possessed by these artists seems to prove their personal striving toward the acquisition of Divine perfections based on religious beliefs or Divine philosophy. Do you feel that if artists improved their ethical and spiritual foundations they could produce art that would be looked upon as a source of upliftment to humanity?

We are in an age of renewed spirituality. At the same time the liberated and more highly evolved among us are in the process of shifting away from historically accepted religious beliefs. Artists were once in the employ of orthodox religions. Now they are more often in the employ of rugged individualism and self-realization. There's a broad democratization taking place, with a pluriverse of possibilities. It's an adventure. It's terrific that we're going through it.

It looks like some of the old religions are letting people down. There's evidence in the newspapers every day. This has left a vacuum where intelligent, evolved people are searching for new ways to understand the universe, the meaning of life. One-sided answers to many sided questions are suspect. The pursuit of artistic expression is just one side of this revolution. Art has become in some ways a medium of choice for exploring spirituality. The negative side of this is that it can lead to a new brand of me-ism. In art, rugged individualism and a sense of self worth are central. There's a middle path: We need not be patsies, and we need not be the socially destructive and self centered individuals who have from time to time inhabited the artistic halls of fame.

In "The Painter's Keys" there is a lengthy discussion on the state of women in our society. You quote a statistic where out of 10 million North American painters 7 million are women. Then you go on to defend the cause of woman. How do you feel about the future of woman's role in our modern society?

My thoughts on that are well known. Women are going to be the great creators in the 21st century. Their minds are better suited for creativity than men's minds. Men tend to be "linear" thinkers while women tend towards "web" thinking. Creativity requires web thinking (right brain - left brain) interaction. Women have it in spades. Further, women have been lately freed up from the domestic drudgery of the last century and certainly the century before. Childbirth will continue to be delayed or discontinued in the developed countries, and personal creativity will take its place. Women will continue to live longer than men. Art takes time and women are going to take it.

There's only one religion I know of which promulgates the principle of the Equality between Men and Women--the Baha'i Faith. The Baha'is believe in the equality of the rights between the sexes, something which, when examined logically, makes a lot of sense. You seem to be inferring that women are superior to men in the arts. Which is your belief: equality or superiority in certain qualities?

Yet, I am compelled to repeat my question: What do you prefer, Motherhood or Apple Pie? There certainly is a vast difference between the concept of women's natural superiority to men in the domain of the fine arts, and the concept that men and women both have qualities of which development depends on education.

Would brotherhood and sisterhood make you happy? Your question has a group of disparate elements. Apart from the education question, which in the fine arts is up for grabs, it's obvious that women are consummate networkers. In many skills and techniques that have almost become extinct, women are in a state of renewal. They are in a growth mode. For example, of the current subscribers to the Twice Weekly Letter and visitors who take advantage of The Painters Keys website, 75% are women.

We note that historically the male has always received greater recognition in almost all domains of human endeavor. The Fine Arts are no exception. Men have always come out on top. Do you see tangible evidence towards the reversal of this trend?

Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A Changing" makes a most poignant observation when he tells the parents to get out of the way if they can't lend a hand; that is, lend a hand in the sense of contributing to the new world that is being built by the present generation. Yet, when we look around at modern art, we see a sort of reflection of an adolescent state of mind where the old is disdained, rejected, while there is no clear-cut lighthouse beacon leading the way. In fact, there seems to be a lot of childish play without rules, and overwhelming confusion all about in not only the fine arts, but in society in general. Do you feel there is a trend toward improvement of morality and purpose in artistic expression or the contrary or do you feel we are just groping in the dark?

There are more people making art today than in the whole history of art. The styles, media, and uses are wider now than they ever have been. While appearances might make you think the contrary, our world is actually moving away from the concept of leadership. "Lighthouse beacon," is an old way of shining a light on what's happening. Think of it more as the triumph of individual expression, the democratization of art, the new permissiveness. There's moral art, yes, and there's all sorts of anti-social, harmful and decadent crap and corruption. This is the way it should be. The operative word is "choice." Can you imagine a world where all art was "nice, or even "moral"? As Voltaire said: "I disagree with what you say brother, but I will defend until death your right to say it."

Many artists teach themselves methods of productivity and habits that keep them at the easel. It's based on lovebut it's a kind of cranky, frustrating love. Actually, I've tried to answer this question many times in my twice weekly letters. The fact is that all artists find their own path and the degree of effort they want to put in. I like to be in my studio, with my dog Emily, listening to the radio, trying to paint. I like the process. For me, when I really think about it, it's a kind of self-deceptive trickery. Frank Barron, the creativity psychologist, called it "ego strength."

Workaholism is an acceptable addiction. Like a lot of addictions it can have both positive and negative results. Some come to it naturally, perhaps atavistically, others develop it as a way of dealing with life. The other day I had a letter from an artist who told me she loved to disappear into her "working fantasy-world of painting."

For many of us, it is. It has a lot to do with the human desire for order in the universe. Work can be a salve. I've had many artists tell me that the world out there is a mess, but they find their studios to be a sort of sanctuary of meaning and purpose. For many of us the world has shown us that it is far more complicated and wonderful than might have formerly been thought possible. That goes for the world of art. It takes "work" to explore it.

There are people who golf practically every day. They do it because they like it. I like to do fast, if possible, fresh looking paintings. I don't like labored passages, so I avoid them. If I take more than three days to do a painting I start to get bored. It's quite often a mystery to non-artists that it takes so little time. Just as it's a mystery to non-doctors how little time it takes to remove an appendix. While there's courage and risk-taking involved, the point is that some folks, hopefully, are somewhat professional and know what they're doing.

I'm a bit restless. I like to see new things, get new ideas. I often think I'm basically a hunter-gatherer. I'm always out for new material. Collecting images by film or sketch. I have a huge slide bank165,000 photos of subjects that interest me. Enough to keep me going during the long winter nights of the next two lives.

I take them out of the system, my assistant puts them back. They are in slide folders and filed according to subject matter. Trees with trees, mountains with mountains. A few trips and locations, as well as specific people are filed separately. We keep track in a constantly updated index in a little book.

One of my joys has been to successfully empower others. I'd like to see my readers put their pictures in my book. The Painter's Keys doesn't have any pictures but it is useful to artists because it lets them see what their own possibilities are. If people want to see my paintings they can go to my dealers or to the dealers sites. There are lots on the net. A good guide to my current work is at www.robertgenn.com.

Originals. And I don't "have" to produce them. I produce them because I want to and then I try to figure out who would be best to take them on consignment. My serigraphs go to separate galleries. I've only done giglées for charity fundraisers. A typical gallery will have ten to twenty paintings. Only about eight or ten would have that many at any one time. Also, I move the paintings around a lotfrom one gallery to another.

Works of art get tired when they stay in one gallery for too long. Dealers tire of them. Customers keep seeing them and get the idea that nobody wants them. When a painting goes to another gallery it is reassessed and refreshed. It gets another chance to be appreciated.

The fact that you move paintings around from gallery to gallery means you must keep an impeccable inventory system whereby you know exactly who has what and where. Is this the case? And if so, could you share with us the system you use?

It's a simple bit of bookkeeping. My assistant has it all in one loose-leaf binder. For the most part dealers are terrific and do their part. Some are more fastidious and over-exuberant about bookkeeping. Yesterday I received some papers from a newish dealer that followed the delivery of two paintings. The papers had those little transparent stickers with red arrows with "sign here" in eight places--insurance waivers, provenance, authenticity, etc. For some other dealers we just wrap them, courier, and we don't hear anything until the check arrives. I just don't worry about it. In some ways it's like the diamond businessdone with a shake of the hand. Having said that, in the event that a dealer starts to screw up, the jungle telegraph hears about it in minutes. In very rare occasions dealers can get blackballed by the artists.

How do you let galleries know you want to do a "change out"? Are there papers to be filled and filed, contracts to change and be signed, etc.? Would you advice emerging artists who are in, say, three galleries, to do the same?

As I said it's a business of trust. My dealers are my friends. I give them their space and they give me mine. I give dealers a reasonable amount of time to hold my work. When I need some of what they have I make a list and request they return them to my studio by a certain date. The only exception beside the "suddenly sold" are those paintings with a pretty serious "hold" on them. I seldom get dealers to "drop ship" to another gallery. I like to get the paintings back into the studio and check them over before redistribution. They might also be put away, hung on our own walls, fooled around with, or burned. You never know.

I've had shows in the US, UK, Spain, Denmark and other places. Right now my work is strongly Canadian in nature, so I've been supplying my Canadian galleries. For many years I painted subjects in Arizona and New Mexico and I gave most of this work to galleries in that area.

What I understand from what you're saying is that if you want representation in, say, Los Angeles, you'd paint subjects appropriate for that general region; if you want representation in Spain, you'd offer galleries paintings consisting of subjects related to Spain; etc. Would you suggest this to be an aspect of marketing yourself as an artist?

For me, it worked the other way. I was attracted to the southwest and was making regular pilgrimages to the Annual Indian Ceremonials in Gallup, New Mexico. This area, and the whole pueblo area, really turned my crank for about five years. It was only natural that I would send those works to galleries in Scottsdale, Taos, Santa Fe. You know the old saying: "I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like." It really means: "I don't know anything about art, but I like what I know." Another example: Over the past weekend I had a show in Banff, Alberta. The whole show was about mountains. I could have had the show in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and it would have probably been okay, but Banff, right up in the Rockies, was really the best place.

In1974 I switched from oil to acrylic. Not that I didn't like oil; I just started to neurotically worry about what I was inhaling. Also I fell in love with acrylic. In my eyes it's a truly marvelous medium. So forgiving. So versatile. Acrylic also appears, from what we know, to be very permanent. I also attempt watercolors from time to time, but find them difficult to do them as well as I would like. I've also produced a couple of hundred editions of personally cut and hand-squeegeed serigraphs.

In my two previous interviews I learned that Charles Muench dislikes acrylics but that Robert Burridge uses acrylic paint almost exclusively. There really are two camps and sometimes a war rages over which medium is best. Now you're saying you used to paint in oils and switched to acrylics and you love the medium. Perhaps you could elaborate a little more on the differences you've found between the two mediums.

I'm not sure anything will ever replace the sheer beauty of oils. The buttery texture and slow drying are real assets. But acrylic is something wonderfully different and differently wonderful. There's no war. When people take the time to master acrylics the medium can win you over. The ease of glazing and scumbling, for example. Impasto is a bit harder to work up, but it can be done. It seems to me the main problem with acrylics is that because of their facile nature, they tend to take over and push you around. I like to paint fairly broadly, but acrylic is always inviting me to sin with a small pointed sable. To other artists that might be a bonus and a blessing.

Many works of realism done in acrylics--and I hate to say this-- have that "synthetic" look, reflecting an overall unrealness about them. This, of course, is due to the nature of the medium used. Oil painters frequently point this quality out to me. One renown painter told me he was of the opinion that a work in acrylic would not have the same historical impact as one painted in oils. If Leonardo had painted in acrylics, it is surmised, his work wouldn't have stood the test of time. What is your opinion on this?

The jury on acrylics is still out. I can't say they look "synthetic" or "unreal." Oils can look pretty corny if you want them to. It's all how the medium is handled. With regard to longevity the big problem with oils has traditionally been the binder, generally linseed oil. Darkening, cracking, cracquelure, etc., have generally been binder related. When working in acrylic it's important for artists to use lots of binder (medium). It's a lovely big molecule that doesn't seem to change or migrate. Acrylics that I did in high school look exactly the same as when they were painted. Oils that I did only a few years ago have already darkened slightly. I'm going to stick my neck out here: If The Last Supper had been painted in acrylics on a proper ground, and properly varnished with UVLS protectors, it could have been cleaned with household ammonia and re-varnished every 20 years and it would still look pretty much as bright as when it was painted.

No. I paint in standard sizes so they can go from gallery to gallery. I like to "belly" shows so there's a predominance of medium-sized paintings with some small and some large at either end.

I think the term is original with me. It means that the number of paintings in a show is highest in the middle sizes. Less at the small and large sizes makes the extremes rarer. It may be just a personal thing. Much as I would like to have shows with paintings all of the same size, they don't work as well as bellied shows. To me they're somehow not as effective and maybe they don't sell as well.

Size has more to do with the scale of the subject matter or the weight of the motif. Some subjects require big, others small. It's important for me to fit size and format to these factors, keeping in mind what my current energy level is, and my projected span of concentration.

All my life. Except for a few short aberrations like mowing lawns when I was a kidI've never had a real job. I spent seven years taking university courses that interested menever got a degree--and at Art Center School in LA. Fantastic school. I studied industrial designI had in mind at one time that I might like to be an automobile designer. But the freedom of just making stuff and sending it out appeals to me more than anything else.

You raise an interesting point. I was talking to a local artist not too long ago and she felt her art was inferior because she had never gone to school. She was constantly apologizing! Would you say that going to art school is an absolute necessity for an artist? Why? or Why not?

On the one hand we have some artists who are loaded up with degrees and don't seem to go anywhere. On the other hand there are artists who are essentially self taught, and they make it. There are other factors at play here: commitment, ambition, ego-strength, work habits, perhaps even natural talent. For some people school can be an avoidance mechanism. On the other hand I'm constantly impressed by the work of artists who buckle down and with the use of books, teach themselves. Of all professions, art is a field where the practitioners need to confer degrees upon themselves.

I often think about that. The artists that I admired had a strong sense of design in their paintings. Industrial design codified some of my concepts: integrity, unity, functionality. It's echoed in lineups, continuity, activation, eye control. These ideas play a part in my work.

As we are speaking my dad is painting. He's 93. He's painting scenes on the inside of oyster shells. He gilds the backs and makes stands for them. He calls it "Oyster art." He gives them away. Both my parents were very encouraging, very empowering. As I mentioned recently my dad told me once: "If you can dream it, you can do it." And my mom said: "Do what makes you happy."

There are lots of photos on the site. My wife Carol, our kids: Sara, the artist, James, the filmmaker, David, the musician. Mom, dad, my brother Denis and his family. Even Emily the family Airedale. While it's a site about art, people seem to want to see these things. We are very proud of everybody. (Bark)

My forebears were rovers. We were French Huguenots who moved to England in the 1600's. Then we were on the sailboats right after the Mayflower. One of my ancestors, James Genn, did survey work in Viinia with George Washington. When the American Revolution happened we were on the first boat back to England. We immigrated to Brazil and then back to England: Liverpool. My grandfather ran away to sea at age 14 and jumped ship in San Francisco and walked to British Columbia. He staked gold claims in the Yukon in '98 and went on to lose his shirt several times. He recommended that I get into the liquor business but I didn't take his advice.

A second or third cousin, Ellen Genn, born in 1848, was a well known watercolorist. She lived in Falmouth, Cornwall, UK. Her work is still actively collected. Another cousin, Nora Lewis, started painting feverishly at the age of 52. She died recently at 93.