Catholic Artist of the Month: Matthew S. Good

Here is the second installment in a series: Catholic Artist of the Month.  Rather than constantly kvetching about mediocre, sentimental art by Christians, I’ll be featuring artists who are doing it right. Last month (okay, it was two months ago! June was . . . rough), I had a wonderful conversation with Timothy Jones.

This month, I’m featuring Matthew S. Good, 31, who lives and paints in Hickory, North Carolina. His paintings are moody and intense, reminding me of Rembrandt, and it took several weeks to find a time when he was available to talk. I was somewhat nervous, expecting a reticent, brooding artist type. Instead, I was delighted to find myself chatting with a cheerful, self-deprecating fellow with a quick wit and a thick Southern accent.

Good has been apprenticed under Benjamin S. Long IV for several years.

Good’s work can be found at matthewsgood.com, and he blogs sporadically, mostly about the technique of painting. He has a large collection of studies in storage, and intends to list more of them on eBay.

Here is part of our conversation. My questions are in bold.

 

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Have you always known that you wanted to be an artist?

I’ve always drawn. When I was about twenty, I saw Raphael and [Flemish Baroque painter Anthony] van Dyck, who are heroes of mine.  I bought a bunch of pigment for oils, and made about three hundred terrible paintings. I had no formal training; it was just trial and error.

What is the thing you’ve struggled with most as you improve as a painter? What did you really need to learn?

An understanding of anatomy. Drawing is all about how light hits the form. If you don’t understand the form you’re looking at, you can’t understand what’s going on.

 

That’s a big thing [Long] pushes: learning anatomy, and just drawing.  A lot of great painters that hardly draw anymore. Even if you go to restaurant, you should draw people when they’re not looking. Draw, draw, draw; practice, practice, practice; patience, patience, patience.

 

 

It looks like most of your training has been private.

I never went to art school. I’m in a personal apprenticeship with Benjamin S. Long IV. He’s renowned for his true frescoes. The first one was in Italy, in Lucignano, where he lives half the year. It was a memorial to one of his friends.

There are thirteen or fourteen frescoes here in North Carolina. It’s the highest concentration of frescoes outside of Europe.  The one I helped him with was three years ago. I helped grind colors, get the plaster ready, clean brushes.

 

 

How does that work, being an apprentice?

I work with him on a weekly basis with oils and drawing. He doesn’t tell me how to do anything .  It’s helpful to work on your own as much as you can; but it’s really helpful to have him there when you get into a bind. “Look at this, see how bad I am!” His whole thing is that you never use photographic references; use models.

 

 

I notice that a lot of your models don’t look like privileged people. They look like they just got off work, or just stepped out of a bar.  They have tattoos.

 

 

They’re all my friends! It’s important to me to paint my friends. There’s a whole variety of people I paint, and I don’t choose one type or another.

Well, they look like lovely, wonderful people! But I mean that you show all of your subjects with a great amount of dignity.

 

 

That’s very important to me. Rembrandt is the top. One thing I really love about his work the psychology in his paintings. Peasant, aristocrats — he painted them all with dignity. No person is more important than the other.

 

 

 

That emphasis on people’s dignity seems very Catholic to me. You are Catholic, right?

Yes, I am. I’ve done commissions for churches, but I don’t put a lot on my website about liturgical art. I love my faith, but I am a sinner. I struggle with my faith. This is the big thing:  I believe in loving absolutely everybody. Some of my deepest friends are from all faiths and walks of life. I don’t select only Catholic for friends.

Is there any particular kind of religious art that you especially enjoy?

I love all religious art. It’s in a public space, you don’t have to go into someone’s hallway to see it. And there’s a narrative to religious art, which is just the pinncacle of art, for me.

 

 

Is your family artistic?

No, I don’t know where it came from. I drew with my friends as a kid all the time. Michelangelo is the first artist I really loved.

What did your parents think when you said you wanted to be an artist?

They love it. A lot of my artist friends’ parents hate the idea, but my parents are very proud of me. My parents are both Protestant, very humble religious people. They have never tried to tell us we have to make a lot of money to be successful.

I’ve been making a living as an artist for five years now. I scrape by. I do travel to Italy!

 

 

Who are some of your favorite artists who are working now?

My favorite living painter, Ben Long, paints the life around him. He does large frescos, multi-figured paintings, and he doesn’t doctor it up. He paints life solely from observation, and he has a humble approach to the world around him.

I also love Steven Assael, who is not religious.

And I’ve never met him, but Neilson Carlin does religious work on a great scale, very beautiful work.

Do you see any kind of return to the kind of art that you enjoy? It seems like people are getting tired of ugly and bland things and are thirsting for beauty.

Believe me, my fingers are crossed.  John Paul II and Benedict have talked about bringing back art into the Church. It does seem like there’s a growing interest.

A lot of us are very anxious to return to the traditions of the church. I’m not militantly opposed to Vatican II, but traditional settings more reverent. Modern spaces aren’t thought through the way they used to be.  “Traditional” doesn’t necessarily mean repeating the past word for word, but I don’t see why we have to disregard thousands of years.

What kind of work would you most like to be able to put your name on?

Any sort of narrative from scripture or from the saints. This is something I would really like to get into. It’s hard doing it on your own. I don’t have much resources for models. Just doing paintings for churches would be my dream job.

But you weren’t raised Catholic.

I was raised Lutheran. In high school, I didn’t know if I believed.  It must have been when I was 19, I went on a little journey: Presbyterian, Methodist, Episcopal. I wasn’t even sure if I could go to Mass, but I went, and I could see something special was going on.  I got some library books on Catholicism, and appreciated the theology.

Ten years ago I converted. It’s a beautiful. I love the Catholic Church. You don’t hear much about sacraments in protestant churches, but it’s the most important thing we’ve got here.

 

 

*****

 

Are you a Catholic artist, or do you know one who would be available for interview? Send me a tip at simchafisher[at]gmail[dot]com.

Right Brain Summer Drawing Club – don’t forget!

This week, we’re reading through chapter three and doing the exercise in chapter four of Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. I’ll put up a picture share link on Monday (not Tuesday, because we’ll be away on our camping trip). I’ll leave the link-up open indefinitely this time, because people are working at different paces.

I really enjoyed looking through the pre-instruction drawings in picture share #1! Thanks for going to the trouble of uploading your pics and linking up. If you don’t have a blog but want to join in, you can start a Tumblr or Flickr or Photobucket (oretc.) account and use that link — or just upload your drawings to the comment section. And of course your’e welcome to work along with us without sharing your pictures! The more, the merrier.

Summer Drawing Club starts now!

Sorry for the slow start, everyone! We are still in school, because we had so many snow days this year. I did get my book, and some of my kids (ages 14, 13, and 8) have agreed to join me. Lots of readers are planning to participate! I’m really excited.

Here’s a recap: a bunch of us are going to go through the book Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain to beef up our drawing and looking skills. The idea is that, while some people have a natural, inborn talent, just about anyone can learn to be a competent artist. People who follow this course typically see dramatic improvement in their drawing skills. Here are some “before and after” examples from the book:

 

It’s not a gimmick; it’s just system for learning how to think in a new way about what you see.  (There is a workbook available, but it covers the same material as the book, and it is not necessary to buy both. I have only bought the book.)

Every week, I’ll post pictures of our drawing results, and I will set up a blog link-up thingy, so anyone who wants to join in can provide a quick link to his blog (or Tumblr, or Flickr, or any other image hosting site), and we can all see each other’s pics — kind of a virtual drawing club. LOW PRESSURE. FUN. This is just meant to be a pleasant change from the things we spend our time thinking and doing every day. No criticism, just encouragement!

So, there is still time to order your book, if you would like to join in.

You don’t need expensive, professional materials – just regular paper, pencil and eraser will be fine. The first lesson includes a self-portrait, so you will need a wall mirror and a hard surface to draw on.

Read through the introduction and first chapter, and then do the exercises in chapter two. It says it will take about an hour to do all three drawings. Don’t worry about being a super duper artist! The point of these first drawings is to leap in, and to give yourself something to compare your later work to.

The first Summer Drawing Club Link-Up will be next Tuesday, June 24. I hope you can join us!

Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: Wanna?

I am thinking of going through (and dragging my older kids through) the home drawing course outlined in Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain.

Here’s the blurb:

Translated into more than seventeen languages, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain is the world’s most widely used drawing instruction book. Whether you are drawing as a professional artist, as an artist in training, or as a hobby, this book will give you greater confidence in your ability and deepen your artistic perception, as well as foster a new appreciation of the world around you.

It’s not a comprehensive drawing course, but an entertaining and user-friendly introduction for people who want to learn how to see better, and to translate that skill into realistic drawings.

Anybody want to join us?  If enough people are interested, I’ll have a blog link-up once a week, where people can display their work and check out everyone else’s. I know summer is busy, and there’s a chance we will start and then fizzle out, but you never know!

Catholic Artist of the Month: Timothy Jones and the Art of Gratitude

Today begins a new series: Catholic Artist of the Month.  Rather than constantly kvetching about mediocre, sentimental art by Christians, I’ll be featuring artists who are doing it right.

I am delighted to begin with Timothy Jones, an award-winning American realist whose photorealistic oil painting “Tempus Fugit” was just named a finalist in the BoldBrush Painting Competition.  He graciously spent an hour talking to me while he was still in the throes of final exams at Chesterton Academy, the private Catholic high school in Minneapolis where he teaches art.

My questions are in italics. All the paintings featured, and more of Jones’ work, can be found at his online studio and at Fine Art America, where many pieces are for sale.

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So, what’s your favorite color?

For the longest time it was blue, but recently I realized it had changed, and now I prefer green — a natural, mossy green. I don’t know what that says about me. I grew up in Alaska, which is very cold, blue, and kind of stark, beautiful in romantic landscape way. But moving to Arkansas as a teenager,  there was just a wall of green. I didn’t really appreciate that at first. It took a while to settle into that. And it was just steaming hot.

How long does it take you to finish a painting?

I don’t keep close track of the hours. It takes from a few days to a week, depending on how thing go and how much time I have.

A lot of it is just kind of staring at it. You kind of collect yourself, let things suggest themselves, or just walk away from it for a while, then come back and see what you have.

Do you work on more than one painting at a time?

I should! It would be a good system, because I do work in layers. But I focus on one painting at a time.

Persimmons

It would be great for my production, to do more than one at a time. Collectors like to see consistency. They like to group things thematically. But I always feel like I’m just learning to paint, because I’m trying out different things.

What’s something new you’ve tried recently?

The last couple of paintings have been done in a style that’s been around for a few decades, called hyperrealism.  I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to try. There are certain aspects of it that appeal to me — strong shadows; detailed, meticulous work.

Tempus Fugit

In a lot of circles, what’s popular now is impressionism. You do more with color, you appeal to the emotions, use expressive brushwork. I love that.

Water Lilies at Moonrise

 

Winter Mist

 

Hyperrealism — is that the raspberries

Raspberries

and the chokeberries?

 

Those take more of a macro view, with a more contemporary composition I was trying out. The response has been terrific.

But it seems like a classic composition is what you keep coming back to — the straight-on view, a glass, a piece of bread, a piece of fruit . . .

 

Blue Cheese

 

Blue Vase with Plums

 

I feel like I’ve been learning to paint all this time. By using this traditional structure, I can work with and can try things inside that, and feel like I have some confidence and change one thing.  For instance, I was in the habit of using a dark background,

 

 

and it was a little leap to use a lighter background.

 

Good Company

 

Beer has this beautiful color, but you can’t see it well with a dark background.  I paint a lot of beer!

 

Mug of Beer

 

It’s been good to work out some how I deal with light, things like these last couple I’ve done, like some eggshells.

 

Nascent

 

Another was “Tempus Fugit,” [see above] which is made up of a lot of things that remind me of the passage of time. I didn’t set that up intentionally; there was some stuff in a box, and I decided to paint it, and it turned out they were all themed.

One painting that my sons loved was the hamburger. You’ve done a few hamburgers.

 

Suzy Q Double Cheeseburger

 

I was happy with it. It ended up in a show. Everyone thought it was great, but then it stayed around forever. Nobody bought it.

Is there a struggle between wanting to paint something and having to make a commercial decision?

I did some orange paintings that sold while they were still wet.

 

Orange Peeled

 

 

Oranges

 

The gallery guy said, “Go home and paint about twelve more oranges.” But this weird little thing in my brain says, “I can’t paint an orange now, because it’s been requested! I’m switching now to submarines!

But I have a genuine interest in everything I paint. You spend a lot of time lying in bed thinking about what you want to paint next. I haven’t always had a really clear idea of what direction I want to go in, but I have had a clear idea of what I don’t or shouldn’t want to do.

Like what?

There’s the temptation of doing something that’s going to sell well: kitschy, sentimental stuff, might have worked out.  My family might have wanted me to do some of that!  But I always really had to paint things that I was interested in. I find beer really beautiful. A lot of the setups are trying to create an atmosphere of fellowship or camaraderie.

 

Pewter Stein and Pipe

 

Speaking of an atmosphere of fellowship, you teach classical art in a private high school, Chesterton Academy. How did that come about?

I went to a Chesterton conference with a painting and a drawing of Chesterton,

 

Astonished at the World

 

and the head of the Chesterton Society came up and said, “We’ve started a school.  Would you like to move to Minnesota?”  Now I’m finishing my second year there.  If there’s one thing that could drag me away from painting, it’s that.

The school is in its fifth year. They started with eight or nine students, and now they have 115. The school has this character of a little, crazy school – a private, Catholic classical high school – and the spirit of Chesterton plays a big part in that. It’s a joyous, thankful approach to Catholicism, a very human Catholicism.  We have the greatest conversations in the faculty lounge. The kids all take drama, and they all take four years of art – studio art, and art history.  It’s kind of a luxury for me to delve into those books again.

A lot of the kids are surprised to learn that there are steps to making a work of art. They think you just come out of the womb with this talent, that you pick up a pencil and it’s magic. There is an element of that, but there are also a whole lot of ways to systematically help yourself. The kids open up in a way that is gratifying, and fun, to see. They surprise themselves.

After I teach them, they can go on and paint like Picasso if they want to. I try to keep things positive and not bash that kind of art. But I want them to be aware of all this beautiful stuff.

Last year, the juniors and seniors took a field trip to Rome. (I couldn’t afford to go; moving had done such wonderful things to my budget!).  You don’t have to convince them that Caravaggio or St. Peter’s Basilica is great. It changes a person.  Compare that to the absurdity of some modern art movement . . . it’s not anything you really have to spell out.

And you have been through some spiritual changes yourself, as a convert to Catholicism?

It’s all Jimmy Akin’s doing. He and I were friends in college. In our thirties, my wife Martha and I lived close to him and his wife. It was a great time. He has one of the quickest minds I’ve ever seen.  I can’t keep up with him, but it was fun to try. Also, he’s just an honest person.  Wherever the logic takes him, he’ll go. He began to help me start learning to think. One thing led to another and here we are.

What sort of art have you been looking at recently?

I just saw a bunch of painting from ancient Rome, nature studies on their walls. Still life. They were just doing the same thing:  “Isn’t this great, we have these fish!” I think that’s part of Chesterton’s writings: this love and gratitude for the material world, a reaction against the puritan suspicion of the physical world, or the gnostic suspicion.

What do you mean, “gnostic suspicion?”

I see currents of gnosticism in modern art. Suspicious, antagonistic to dull reality, to life, to the rocks in the street. We don’t wanna paint things that are all around us, we have to transcend that! But for me, the transcendence comes through the experience of things. Explore this, talk about it . . . that’s what I love about art. That’s what art, especially original art, not reproductions, is: this tremendous dialogue. Someone painted this a thousand ago, and I’m reading his  mind. I like this idea of this dialogue, fellowship over a bird or a plant.

Your art strikes me as very Catholic, even the ones that aren’t explicitly religious, like “Immaculate Heart” is.

 

Immaculate Heart

 

I’m glad to hear that! I try to think sincerely what I should be painting. What can I do to move people toward the truth? I try to think of things I can show my own gratitude for. The essence of art is the artist saying,  “Look, I have something to show you. I saw this plant, I saw this bird!”

 

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Are you a Catholic artist, or do you know one who would be available for interview? Send me a tip at simchafisher[at]gmail[dot]com.

Happy birthday, Albrecht Dürer!

German painter, woodcarver, engraver, mathematician, born May 21, 1471, spent much of his life in Italy and produced some of the most well known art of the Renaissance. He’s the one who did those Praying Hands that used to appear on 75% of religious art:

 

 

PIC praying hands

 

But did you know he also did praying feet?

 

 

 

PIC praying feet

 

Browse around in this wonderful gallery of his works, and you’ll find this cerebral allegory, “Melencolia I”

 

 

 

PIC Melancolia

Note that this is an engraving.  Have you ever tried to make a print?  Looked like a chimpanzee did it, didn’t it?  I almost feel like engraving with such depth and detail as the above is a supernatural talent.

But Durer also gave us homlier treasures. Here is his so-called “Great Piece of Turf”:

 

PIC great piece of turf

Juicy! You can see that the peak of summer is past, and the weeds are still going strong, but are past their first freshness.  This is a watercolor  – which, if I remember correctly, is a medium that requires even more manual control than engravings.

Happy birthday, Al. We all still dig that hair.

PIC self portrait

 

Mary said “Fanks”

PIC annunciation

From John Herreid, here’s a painting I’ve never seen before:

 

The Annunciation by Master of the Retable of the Reyes Católicos (15th century)

Here is a detail, showing the Word of God proceeding from the mouth of the Father:

Cross already in hands. Oh, Mary.

And a short interview with my daughter, who is almost 5. I am not sure why the conversation started with a discussion of her rabbit Daffodil’s  eating habits; and YES I fluffed at least two opportunities to clear up theological misunderstandings. But around 2:53, she says something that never occurred to me before, but I bet she’s right:

After the angel told her she would have a child, and He would be Son of the Most High, she said . . . “Thank you.”

Terrible craft my little kids absolutely love

A nice way to add some color to a house full of people who are pretty much tired of brown, white, brownish white, and black.  This is one of those crafts that is easy, but you have to not give a crap about your furniture or clothes.

Step 1:  sit on a bunch of coffee filters to flatten them.  Irene, 4, notes that this step is important, “although it’s a little bit vulgar.”

Step 2:  drip some water on them.

Step 3:  drip food coloring on them.  You may also do food coloring first, and then water.

Step 4:  let it dry. The end.

These dry fast and make nice marbled, stained glass effect, very cheery hanging in windows.  They look like planets.  You can experiment with different amounts and combinations of water and food coloring.  I know you can get this same effect with decent watercolors, but the kids really love squeezing the food coloring droppers.

Bonus:  you get Hulk Hands for a good week or so!

Daniel Mitsui is a treasure of the Church

. . . and he and his family have had a really terrible year. If you were thinking of buying any art prints this year, look here first, and you will help the Mistui family find their way through some of the mountain of medical bills that have piled up.

To give you a taste of his style, here is one of his magnificent drawings:  The Great Battle in Heaven

 

He also offers bookplates and other types of works, including some with secular themes.  Treat yourself by browsing through his galleries, and consider buying something wonderful for your home or parish.

At the Register: The Light of the Child

A poem, a tune, a painting for Christmas.  May the baby who brings us warmth and light bless you all!