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Painting can help you live longer

Self Portrait at the Age of 63, 1669, Rembrandt van Rijn, courtesy National Gallery

T. is the only artist I’ve known who’s ever retired. Most of them paint their way forward into extreme old age. And T. couldn’t stay retired-in the last year she’s picked up her brushes again, done a solo show, and sold a few pieces.

“Why would I stop doing what I love?” asked pastellist Diane Leifheit in response to Transcending Popular Culture.

Three Machines, 1963, Wayne Thiebaud, courtesy de Young Museum

Old age often produces great work

By modern standards, Rembrandt didn’t live long, but 63 beat his contemporary odds by a long shot. His last self-portrait, painted the year of his death, is both technically confident and psychologically insightful.

Norman Mailer finished his last novel, The Castle in the Forest, right before his death at the age of 84. It was both very long and very good, and was the first volume of an intended trilogy.

The superstar of working into extreme old age was American pop artist Wayne Thiebaud, who died on Christmas Day 2021 at the age of 101. Earlier that year, he recorded a conversation with curator Karen Wilkin and Lois Dodd, about working into old age.

“It has never ceased to thrill and amaze me,” Thiebaud said, “the magic of what happens when you put one bit of paint next to another. “I wake up every morning and paint. I’ll be damned but I just can’t stop.”

Lois Dodd, of course, we claim as Maine’s own favorite daughter. She’ll celebrate her 96th birthday this year, as will her fellow modernist Alex Katz.

Equilibrium, 2012, Carmen Herrera, courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art

Carmen Herrera didn’t have her first solo show until she was in her mid-50s, although she’d sold her first work while in her teens. She was almost 90 when she was ‘discovered’ by the New York art scene. She lived until age 106.

A list of major artists who’ve reached their centenary is too long to reprint here, but mention must be made of Anna Mary Robertson “Grandma” Moses. She was a hardscrabble farmer’s wife who didn’t start painting until her mid-70s. She died at age 101, having carved out a second career that was far more successful than her first one.

“I look back on my life like a good day’s work, it was done and I feel satisfied with it. I was happy and contented, I knew nothing better and made the best out of what life offered,” she said.

Hoosick Falls in Winter, 1944, Anna Mary Robertson “Grandma” Moses, courtesy Phillips Collection

Science says

The anecdotal evidence I’ve related above is supported by science. British researchers found that people over 50 who regularly engaged in the arts were 31% less likely to die during a 14-year follow-up than peers with no art in their lives. A World Health Organization review found that both passive engagement with the arts (like visiting a museum) and active participation (making art or music) had health benefits.

Why don’t more people engage in art, then? We start devaluing it in school, where it’s the first thing cut, despite manifest evidence of its health and intellectual benefits. It’s no wonder that by middle age, most of us are more likely to be watching TV than picking up a brush or singing in a choir.

But as Grandma Moses demonstrated, it’s never too late to start painting. Or singing, playing the harmonium, or taking up interpretive dance. Why not give yourself a health boost, and have fun at the same time?

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

The limitations of style

Ravenous Wolves, oil on canvas, 24X30, $3,478.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Iā€™ll be painting next weekend in Camden on Canvas. Iā€™m a little rusty because my time right now is being taken up by things that have nothing to do with painting. While I canā€™t go out and do a full plein air painting, Iā€™m taking an hour a day to practice. These little ditties have no higher-level thinking and the subject is unimportant. For example, yesterday I painted a basket of beach toys.

I donā€™t worry about finishing these sketches. To paint like that occasionally is a relief, for style can be a trap and a delusion.

The Late Bus, 8X6, oil on canvasboard, $435 framed, available.

A reader told me yesterday, ā€œMy goal this summer is to get closer to a point of view and/or style.ā€ Iā€™m all for understanding point of view; itā€™s the deepest discipline in painting (and life). But style is something that should develop naturally. Forcing it stymies development.

Style is the mark-making, composition, color palette and other attributes in a finished work. Style ties an artistā€™s work together in one body, and it ties that artist to a specific time and place. Itā€™s the art historianā€™s best tool for classifying artwork.

I can never be aĀ Scottish colourist, any more than I can be Wayne Thiebaud. Weā€™re each tied to our own specific moment. Imitating the style of Dead Masters is a sure path to irrelevance (while copying them is a great learning technique).

Great painters choose beauty over stylishness, even to the point of seeming awkward to their contemporaries. The difference is depth and staying power. It takes some scratching to get down to fundamental truth.

Beautiful Dream (Rockport Harbor), oil on canvasboard, 12X16 $1,449.00 framed.

A good artist investigates thorny questions, not just about the world, but about painting itself. When they are answered, he moves on, just likeĀ Omar Khayyamā€™s moving finger. Often, by the time we get through the cycle of making and mounting a body of work, weā€™re no longer that interested in it. Weā€™ve moved on to another struggle.

Each time we pick up the brush, thereā€™s variation in how we approach painting problems. I might use a palette knife for a sky, even though palette knife painting is not part of my regular repertoire. Iā€™ll occasionally revert to painting the way I first learned, with lots of detail and modeling. I refuse to box myself in by saying that a technique is inappropriate because it isnā€™t my style. ā€˜Embracing your styleā€™ is a trap that painters may not be able to escape.

Thereā€™s a difference between style and being stylish. I enjoyĀ Olena Babakā€™sĀ ability to describe reflections in a single, fluid brush line. Thatā€™s not styling; itā€™s self-confident skill that results in stylish brush work.

Sometimes, what people call style is just technical deficiency. For example, some painters separate their color fields with narrow linesā€”white paper in watercolor, dark outlines in oils. Iā€™d like to know that they embraced this voluntarily, not because they never learned how to marry edges.

Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, available

I do not admire painters who use the same scribing or pattern-making on the surface of every painting. Itā€™s style for its own sake, and it often is just a ruse to cover up badly-conceived paintings.

Mature artists donā€™t generally think about style. At that point, style is the gap between what they perceive and what comes off their brush. Thatā€™s deeply revelatory, and it can be disturbing when we see it in our own work.

Some of us try to cover that up with stylings, not realizing that those moments of revelation are what viewers hunger for. Theyā€”not the nominal subject of the pieceā€”are the real connection between the artist and his audience.