Eye Candy

Every now and then the media finds something sweet to say about these silly pictures.

Here’s a taste, just in time for Halloween:

Carolina's CW | WYCW-TV WSPA

Changes

A while back I received an e-mail from a very nice woman who was contemplating a change in direction, moving from a long and successful career in sales to a new position as a Life Coach, using her experiences and insights to counsel others on, appropriately, making life-changing decisions. 

Trombones

Part of her process involved interviewing other people who had made definitive career changes, and she wondered if I might be willing to talk to her about my 'doctor-turned-artist' experience. 

Of course I would.

I get these questions a lot, usually from a general sense of curiosity, sometimes out of a genuine concern for my mental health. Either way, it's not a subject that I shy away from. In fact, I tell just about everybody. After all, the 'doctor' part of my life continues to exert a huge influence on my artwork, and knowing about it helps explain much of the humor and the technical complexity of my drawings. And it makes a good story.

Here are a few selections from the interview that might be of general interest:

In giving up medicine for art you must have done a tremendous amount of introspection. What kind of questions did you ask yourself? 

     How can I afford this? How will I explain this? How do I replace the one dream I've had since age five? What would my mother think, if she were still alive? What will my dad think? (Okay, I already didn't care what my dad thought. Or, more accurately, that he would disapprove. He routinely disapproved.)

     This will be something to tell the grandkids. 

     How can I afford to have grandkids?

In making the decision, was it a gradual process or did you “just know?” 

     The handwriting was on the wall long before I looked up high enough to read it. The process of deciding was really more of a process of realizing what I already knew: That I was not built for life as a surgeon, and I had no interest in being an internist. I probably knew by my third year in med school that eventually I had to do something else. I just didn't know for sure what that 'something' would be. By then it was important to me to finish the journey I had started, graduate, and get a license, more as milestone, a badge of completion than anything else. Even that early in the process, I never seriously considered setting up a practice. 

     One day in the hospital a nurse asked me if I could remember the last time I was happy. I could. It was five years earlier, in college, in the art studio.       

     

      My last year in med school, and the following year of internship were as close as I can imagine to a prison sentence. Once that period of my life was over, it didn't matter what activity or occupation would replace my previous calling, so long as it was unstructured and creative. I didn't know what I would do, how I would earn a living, or how I was ever going to pay back my school loans. And I didn't care about that, either. By then, medical training had very nearly beaten the compassion out of me entirely.         

    Once you knew what you wanted, did you have to overcome any internal resistance to actually doing it? 

     Leaving medicine was easy. My residency contract was renewable year-to-year, so long as I performed well enough, and wanted to re-up. I simply chose to let it lapse. Then I had to face the tougher questions:  How do you make a living as an artist? They sure don't teach you any business or career planning courses in the art department, and even less in the hospital.  Thought I might try to be a writer. Tried to be a model for a while. It was amazing how many jobs I was NOT allowed to do, because I was overqualified. You can't sell shoes if you have a medical degree. Eventually I fell in with a bunch of graphic designers and learned their craft, which helped pay the bills until the drawings took over.

      Even so, it took me more than a year to get comfortable 'being' an artist. It was hard to stop being privileged, too. This was not an ego thing, though I had plenty of that, for sure. It was just hard to realize that as a doctor in a hospital, your words meant something. They carried real weight. You spoke about important things, and people acted on your ideas.  As a regular person, your informed opinion suddenly didn't matter all that much – even if you knew from nine years of training exactly what you were talking about. It took a long time to get used to that. 

     The hardest part, though, was dealing with the rage that I carried around inside of me regarding the medical system. It was impossible to fight the inherent unfairness of residency, especially the foolish incompatibility that an impersonal, sometimes brutal training program was expected to produce compassionate physicians. I kept to myself for a long time, mulling over my feelings about that experience, trying to reach some sort of equilibrium. Nowadays they might call it PTSD.

      I remember that it took me six months to stop jumping every time I was near a microwave. The machine would beep, and I would impulsively slap my waist, looking for the pager. 

      It took me years to get over my anger, and let my humor take over again. Not surprisingly, once I was able to draw a funny medical picture, my artistic career took off.    

How would you guide someone else who might want to make that same kind of life change? 

            Jump. Wings grow fast.

Rhinoplasty

   

 

"How long does it take to draw 
                            one of your pictures?"

"A month or so, though some take a little longer."   (Okay, some of them take a lot longer.)

Consider Rhinoplasty. This odd little item was randomly selected last week from my large and growing "I'll get back to these ideas one day - really, I will" pile of unfinished drawings, just so a visiting TV crew could get some footage of ‘the Artist at Work.’

“Here’s one I’ve been working on,” I said to the camera, pretending that I’d actually laid eyes on this drawing since… okay, I couldn't remember. I did recall that once upon a time the concept seemed like a fairly good idea (a rhinoceros made of plastic pieces still makes me giggle), that it was part of my Medical series, and that I had lost interest in the project at least twice - once after becoming hopelessly stuck on the developing design, and again after coming back and solving whatever creative problem had me roadblocked, and, satisfied with having gotten past that, finding little desire to keep going.

But how long ago had that been? I started looking for clues. 

One of my reference images for this piece was a Rhinoceros drawn by Albrecht Dürer, the famous German artist from the 16^th century, known universally for his etching, Praying Hands. He signed his work with his initials, D tucked beneath a capital A that looks something like an oriental gateway.

Dürer completed his Rhinoceros in 1515. (I have no idea how long the work hung around his studio before he got around to finishing it.)

Apparently I decided to sign my rhinoceros drawing in a similar fashion, S inside a D, and did so lightly, in pencil, sometime after I was pleased with the overall design, which was at least a year after I first committed the idea to paper. Over time, my ‘DS’ had worn away, evaporated to a few ghostly gray lines. The date penciled above it was almost entirely gone, but with strong glasses I could just make out the number 2006.

So, I started this drawing in 2005, 495 years after Dürer. Seven years of waiting, and it still took another full week to finish.  For a little while I thought about putting it away for another three years,  just long enough to separate the two Rhinoceri by an even 500. I figured that would be a fitting homage to the Master. But then I thought about the slim chance that I would actually remember this idealized plan, and retrieve my Rhino-in-progress at any time in 2015.

After all, I still have the beginnings of a Grand Piano drawing that I started in 1999, scheduled to be completed a year later (in Two Grand). 

Grunt Grudge Match

The DS Art Studio is happy to announce the

2012 Grunt Grudge Match Challenge to Support Wounded Warriors

HOO-AH meets OOH-RAH.

03’s vs. 11B’s.

Who will win in a toe-to-toe, no-holds-barred competition?

Which team can raise $50K by Veteran’s Day?

CONTEST RULES:

DS Art is proud to donate half of the funds raised from sales of Marine Uncommon Valor and Army Follow Me prints to the Marine Wounded Warrior Regiment, and the Army AW2, respectively.

Sales of these two Army and Marine prints from July 4th to Veteran's Day, 2012 will be counted to determine which service emerges victorious. The branch with the highest total (most print sales and/or outright WW donations to the contest) will be declared the winner, and will own irrefutable bragging rights for a minimum of one year.

All uniformed service members (including POGs, swabbies, zoomies, coasties and weekend warriors), veterans, families and civilians are all encouraged to support their preferred branch of ground-pounding Grunts.

The winning branch of military service will also receive an original, WWI 75mm Trench Art trophy, handcrafted by Master Metalsmith Robert Taylor. This official Grudge Match Trophy will be presented to the winners’ own National Museum (National Museum of the Marine Corps, or National Infantry Museum) for at least one year of safekeeping, publicly showcasing the highest levels of loyalty and support for their wounded comrades.

The Uncommon Valor drawing is composed of more than 370 pieces, arranged in the shape of the iconic flag raising at Iwo Jima, placed in order of events from the founding of the Marines at Tun Tavern in 1775 to the current conflict in Afghanistan.

Follow Me is a collection of 225 Infantry images, tracing the historic path of Army foot soldiers from the Revolution to the present, with emphasis on the Seven Army Values of Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage. 

Both artworks reflect a 237-year tradition of courage, honor and dedication to service.

Either drawing is available in 16x20” Signed Open Edition ($40) and 18x24” Signed and Numbered Limited Edition ($150) Prints.

Can either team raise $50K by Veterans Day? 
I’m betting on both.

The contest begins with the fireworks of Independence Day, and ends with Taps on November 11th. 

May the Best Branch win!

Left Wing Patriot

Yes, I’ve been called Left-Wing. 

Progressive. Pacificist. A bleeding heart tree-hugger. 

That’s okay. I’m an artist. It’s expected of me. And it’s mostly true. 

After all, I was raised in a religious tradition that emphasized forgiveness, understanding, and the Golden Rule. On top of that, I was trained to be a healer, and once took a solemn Oath that said I would do my best not to harm other people.

So it is that I find myself in a most interesting position philosophically, when I am researching, creating, and marketing my recent series of military drawings. This very question came up not long ago, when a conscientious friend asked me to explain how I could, in good conscience, justify the "glorification of war" in my art. 

In response, I told him that I felt a strong desire to balance my usual peaceful tendencies with the need  to support the equally dedicated individuals who are sent out to fight on my behalf, who then return home broken and changed, and find that in return for their sacrifice, they are offered little or no safety net. As an artist and a healer, I felt I could do something to help. As a responsible citizen, I felt I had no other choice.

These fighting men and women, and the people who care for them, are the ones who appreciate my intimate pictures of warcraft. If I do my job well, they will want to share my pictures with others - to support not only my calling as an artist, but also the various Wounded Warrior organizations that receive a significant portion of the proceeds from these drawings. 

For the record, I have no beef with anyone who puts on a uniform and follows orders. In fact, I applaud them all for choosing, then earning a place along a most honorable career path, for whatever reasons or circumstances might compel them to serve. More important, I salute them for setting aside their personal rights and freedoms so that I can selfishly enjoy my own. And I do, without reservation or apology. But not without gratitude.

To create Uncommon Valor, Follow Me, and the honorary military drawings that will follow them, I have worked hard to put on the skin of Soldiers and Marines, as much as a civilian ever can, in order to offer an authentic visual experience for them. In the process I have opened doors that have been closed to me before, and have had the opportunity to enjoy meaningful conversations and positive relationships with people from across the political spectrum, many of whom I am now privileged to call my friends.

Yes, I sometimes poke fun at others with my drawings - the medical community in particular. I have earned my stripes in that world, and feel comfortable taking them on as an insider, though always in good fun. 

For the military, I choose to speak in their terms, as a matter of respect for their ethos, and their unquestionable personal sacrifice, in order to fulfill a need that is being largely ignored by our politicians and their corporate partners. As a citizen, I will continue to work politically to try and build a better, more tolerant society, for everyone's benefit. With my military drawings, I am working artistically to support the millions who were and are willing to give up their lives so that I can draw funny pictures for a living.

I see no contradiction in that. If my efforts are successful, I will profit enough to help even more of them.

One of the best experiences to come from this adventure occurred over a long dinner, in the company of a retired Marine major, decorated for wounds received in three wars. After several hours of discussion, sometimes animated, he finally said to me, "Son, you and I are definitely on opposite sides of the political fence. But it appears to me that we both have our elbows on that fence, and we're leaning toward one another."

To my mind, that's the only way We as a People are going to solve our problems, by making bold connections, and making ourselves understood through civil discourse. That discourse is only possible because of a select few who are willing to die in its defense.

I think that's worth a little glorification.

Don

Teachers: Think-Start Your Students!

It takes magic to make one of these composite pictures. The magic of good teaching, and the excitement of learning. (No wands involved. Really.)

Like most complex projects, building a composite drawing requires a great deal of planning, reading, research, a lot of head scratching, and often long weeks of trial and error. If I do my job well, all of that work fades into the background, and the picture appears to have come to life in a single burst of creative inspiration. How did I learn to do it? That’s where the magic comes in...

Real magic happens when teachers find ways to rearrange their students’ brain cells into new and productive patterns, empowering them with effective methods of acquiring, processing, and using information. Students with magical brains take on an entirely new view of the world, and wind up changing that world for the better, every day.

I know. Even when they thought I wasn’t listening, through the years my teachers and professors always found a way to provide the tools I needed to succeed in the classroom, in the clinic, and in the art studio. They’re clever people, these educators. And they’re always on the lookout for new ways to engage their students, to pass along new ideas, and inspire new ways of thinking.

That’s why we have outlined the process of Composite Imagery in a simple set of Lesson Plans, available to teachers everywhere. Art, language arts and science teachers from around the world have used these step-by-step plans to help kids merge words and images in a creative blend of artistic and literary expression. Some have even been kind enough to share the wonderful drawings, essays and poems produced by their students.

The pictures shown above are from Arizona art teacher Carol Rome, whose students live and grow within the wide spectrum of autism. "He looks at things differently, like we do,” Ms. Rome’s classes observed. “Is he Autistic too?"

Could be. (Add that to the long list of explanations for my unusual approach to art.) I am very pleased that these kids have found a connection with my drawing process, and delighted that they have had fun expressing themselves with such remarkable insight and ability.

A copy of our Composite Image Lesson Plans is posted online at the Incredible @rt Department. (An excellent resource for any teacher.)

For additional art lesson plans, and ideas for using puns in creative writing, contact us directly at the DS Art Studio (800) 372-7864, or e-mail: teachers@dsart.com

Gotta go. More stuff to learn!