322: My New York Adventure

–RECENTLY I was a guest on the Zion Art Society podcast, with Dr. Micah Christenen, and was asked about my experience as an illustrator in New York City. Although the podcast was about Utah painter LaConte Stuart and his influence on my landscape work (listen here) we did talk briefly about my illustration career. I hadn't thought about my New York experience for a while. It brought back good memories.

It reminded me of the convoluted path I've taken to get to my current level as a landscape painter. I had to see a lot of paintings, do a lot of drawing, and ultimately adjust a lot of my thinking before I learned to paint well. It seemed chaotic at the time, but in retrospect, the journey contained all the right obstacles to get me where I am.

The above illustration was the first assignment I received on my first day in New York City. It was for an editorial for The New York Times. The article described how helping newly hatched Galapagos turtles find their way to the sea is a detriment to the hatchlings. If the young turtles are helped by observers, they don't develop the strength to survive once they get to the sea. The scientists had to restrain themselves as they observed the turtles struggle and allow them to endure the tortuous journey across the beach–even if it meant seeing many of them eaten by hawks. In retrospect, the story seems like an allegory for how young artists need to find their own way–often in challenging circumstances. (But remember; with art nobody dies).

Another interesting insight as I remember that first assignment was how mature my style seemed despite being a fledgling illustrator. It's obvious that woodcut and related arts, such as scratchboard, came easily to me. Unlike the decades-long struggle to become a competent landscape painter.

In this blog, I've reviewed many books that discuss theories of improvement. The most prevalent idea can be described as the 10,000-hour theory. The theory claims that anyone can become world-class in any field if they spend 10,000 hours of focused practice. My experiences with woodcut and painting provide two radically different views. Woodcut came easily to me and required far less than the requisite 10,000 hours. Painting required far more.

My journey illustrates how different such endeavors can be–even in the life of one artist.

Brad Teare –April 12017