Corey West Watson Featured Visual Language Artist Studio Visit

Corey West Watson

"Searching For Someday"

The Layered World Of Corey West Watson

   by Dave Justus

 “It sounds so clichéd to say that I was practically born with a brush in my hand, but it’s the truth,” says Corey West Watson. Throughout a childhood spent drawing and painting, Watson knew she wanted to be an artist. But she had little idea what such a calling would entail, or how the journey would test her to her limits.

    “I thought being an artist was little more than creating pretty pictures to hang on people’s walls. I had no idea the depth of love I would experience… along with painful loss, and the struggle of having to forgive incredible violations.” Watson’s experiences from the playroom drawings of her youth to the studio paintings of today gave her, she now realizes, “the drive to take my art beyond just ‘pretty,’ and into a place where I would have to pour out my soul.”

    That soul finds its expression on her canvases, in their abstract washes of color or their layers of mixed media. The processes she has developed—the “how” and “why” of her creative expression—find their genesis in her past, in a story that Watson never imagined she would be sharing with the world at large. But as interest in her artwork grows, so too does interest in the woman behind the signature, and so she has drawn back the curtain to offer a glimpse.

   “There were many people who influenced me as a person,” she says, “but none more than Ben. He became my greatest love, and my deepest pain.” The two met at a young age and very quickly fell in love. It felt natural for them to talk about their “someday”—a life, a family, a home together. But that home couldn’t stand in the face of the Other Woman who “roared through my life like a tornado.” Watson watched helplessly as her relationship began to crumble. “She was a young woman without moral boundaries, who didn’t care that he was not available. He was a young man full of hormones, fear, and the belief that it was not possible to find the love of one’s life at 18.” Devastated, Watson removed herself from the situation, salvaging what pride she could and moving out of town, abandoning her happy “someday” in her wake.

    “The emotional overflow I was experiencing had nowhere to go except onto my canvas,” she recalls. “It felt natural for me to release it there, since drawing and painting were part of who I was anyway.” But even as she took up her brush, she confronted a daunting realization: For the work to be real, the emotion that went into it had to be genuine. “I was a shy person,” Watson admits. “So while I needed the emotional release my art gave me, the thought of people seeing my heart and soul poured out onto a piece of paper terrified me.”

    But her pain was too raw to keep bottled… so instead, she abstracted it. Within a few years, her work was practically nonobjective. “I was in love with creating abstract paintings not only for the challenge it presented, but I felt like it would give me a way to hide behind my work while secretly pouring out my heart.” The more she bled onto the canvas, though, the more people began to respond to her art, until she had almost literally painted herself into a corner. “The more abstract my work became, the more people asked questions. The more I had to talk about my work. And the more I realized that it was the story behind the art that connected them to my art, and me to them.”

    That story was far from finished. A few years down the line, Watson felt her heart breaking all over again when she learned that Ben was getting married… to the Other Woman. Emotions she had buried in her work came surging to the surface, and she realized that the only way to cope with the news was to let him go, to move on with her own life. She got married as well, and though some small part of her still loved Ben and thought of him daily, she knew it was improper to dwell on those thoughts. “Marriage meant I had to keep him where he belonged in my life, which was in the past. I allowed myself a brief time to reflect on what he was to me… and again, I went to my art.”

Watson wanted to honor what Ben had meant to her, the enormous influence he had been on her life and her work, but she wasn’t quite certain how to do so. Then she remembered that she had collected an assortment of handmade papers back in college, for reasons that had never been entirely clear to her. Their purpose crystalized in an instant. “I began to tear and cut the papers,” she says, “and put them into acrylic paintings along with other material like ink, pastel, spray paint, and fabric. My thinking was that the different materials represented all the life experiences that I had had,” and that their inclusion in her art was a way to commemorate the influence not only of Ben, but of many of the people who had shaped her life’s course.

“One day, and quite by accident, I began to cover a painting I had been working on that I did not like. I found that parts of it were nice when they were allowed to just peek through.” Watson sat fixated on the painting for a week, considering what to do with it next. Over that time, it took on a much larger, more symbolic meaning for her. She thought about people as a whole, “how we all start life as a canvas ready to be filled. That canvas is built on in layer after layer, developing who we are. Each layer influences the next, some areas showing through and others we choose to cover up and make go away.”

This idea was so meaningful to her that she began to adopt the mixed media layering process for all of her paintings, creating colorful palimpsests that came alive in the present but offered glimpses of the past. “All the work I do, even though it is mostly nonobjective, is life based in the sense that the materials and the process I developed all came from life stories,” Watson says of her methods. “I never have a specific plan when I begin a painting. I rely on happy accidents, the element of surprise.” Still, she adheres to her axiom that only genuine emotion can produce genuine art: “I work toward the goal of having a good painting that is true to who I am, and let it happen as it wants to. I place a layer on the canvas without specific intention to cover it, and when it’s ready for another layer, I add it. I keep covering, adding, and covering layers until the painting has had enough ‘experiences’ to feel complete.”

   Watson had developed her new art style as a way to help her process and compartmentalize her feelings for her lost love. “In a way, it allowed me to move forward, but in another, to keep him with me in a way that was not a threat to the life I chose.” But that life was not finished adding its layers; her experiences were far from complete.

   

  “Eventually,” she explains, “both our marriages ended in divorce. With broken families and broken hearts, we found our way back to each other.” Mixed in with her joy at seeing him again, she felt herself flooded with additional, unexpected emotions. To her chagrin, Watson learned that Ben had married “because he thought he blew it with me, and nobody he asked was willing to tell him how to find me.” Hearing that he had loved and missed her during their many years apart, she felt a rush of anger: “I was hurt and jealous that he had chosen to have a life, home, and family with her. Even though I had also moved on and had a family of my own, it made me feel guilty at how upset I was that he had a family that was not part of me. Part of us.”

    But there was a grander layer to be painted on top of this swirl of emotions. Eventually, Watson says, “I realized that through it all, God was answering my prayers the whole time.” Those answers had not always come easily, but there was no doubt she had received them. “I asked the Lord to make me an artist,” she explains, “not just to make me a good painter. He used Ben as an instrument in my life to create in me that which could not have existed without the intense life experiences I had.”

Her faith has given her a stability when she thought she might crumble, and she is grateful for God’s influence on her life and work. “He is the only one solid and secure enough to take our pain and carry us through it. He gives us outlets to release our pain and share our joy. He has given me life experience to make me more understanding as a wife, mom, friend, and daughter, as well as the understanding to use what I go through as a tool to become a better artist.” 

At this point in her story, Watson says, “I am over-the-moon excited that it came around full circle and that Ben and I are now married. I love knowing that what we had was real enough to bring us back together after fifteen years apart. I am blessed because of the second chance we’ve been given, and I look forward to what our future holds.” Though she acknowledges that the path they walked to reach this point hasn’t always been pretty, she is certain that, through its highs and lows, “it has created a bond between us, and a drive to be successful together.”

Of her husband, Watson muses, “I can honestly say that he is the one person who gave me the gift of becoming the artist I am, more than anyone else in my life. To this day I am not sure he knows how much he blessed my life.” It’s clear that the pain of his absence was as much an influence on her art as the joy of their reunion, and the love between them that never died.

Thinking back to that youth with the brush in her hand, Watson is circumspect in her reflections. “As a child, had I known what I would go through that would make me the artist I was praying to be, I would have run as fast as I could the other way. As an adult, having lived through all I have and seeing the blessings it brought me in all areas of my life—not just as an artist—I would live it all over again.”

It may have taken years, a great deal of pain, a multitude of layers… but Corey West Watson finally reached her “someday.” And the experience has prepared her to make the most of 

every day after.

Corey West Watson  

http://www.coreywest.artspan.com/

Visual Language Studio Visit with Canadian Artist and DVM, Michelle McCune

 Why do I paint? The simplest answer is that I have to. In 2006, I attended a workshop with John Banovich. He asked us if anyone had ever stopped doing their art. A number of us raised our hands. When he then asked what happened, it was amazing to me that we all had ended up on antidepressant medication and/or therapy. This demonstrated that a true artist is not dependent on style, media, popularity, sales, etc. but rather that it is part of who the person is. That moment was enlightening to me and opened up a new perspective on being an artist.

   As a child, like many children, I enjoyed arts and crafts, playing outside and animals. I never saw myself excelling in any one thing, had trouble fitting in and lacked confidence. There were always kids who were more outgoing, better at sports or playing the violin or got higher grades. My older sister was a terrific artist whose work was hung around our house (she later went on to college as an art major) and I looked up to my her and wanted to be as good as she was. In 8th grade I was awarded “Best Artist” and was overwhelmed with pride that my teachers thought I was the best. This validation was empowering and I continued to study art in school. I took great pride in my work but felt it was a hobby not my future career. My love for science also continued to grow during this time and long story short I pursued veterinary medicine.

   During veterinary school, I received a grant to study free ranging wildlife in Namibia with the Cheetah Conservation Fund. Having never traveled outside the country, I mustered all the bravery I could and went to Africa. The experience was life changing. I learned so much about the need for conservation and education and what can be accomplished with passion and commitment. Dr. Laurie Marker was an incredible mentor and the time with her inspired my self promise to be a part of conservation efforts. Upon graduation I got married and entered small animal private practice – a career I still enjoy today. While an exciting career, I felt something was missing, that I should be doing something more, but what? The answer would come a few years later.

   After the birth of my son in 2000, my sister convinced me to attend a weekly art class to get out of the house. I had little painting experience prior to that time but found an affinity for oils. I was inspired by photos I had taken during my time in Namibia and later on safari in Zimbabwe. After completing a couple paintings I began attending workshops with wildlife artists. My first workshop took me to Montana with Terry Isaac, Susan Labourri, and photo shoots with Triple D ranch. I began to subscribe to Wildlife Art Magazine to find inspiration. 

In the Jan/Feb 2006 issue, I discovered John Banovich whose philosophies seemed to be aimed directly at me. He said “There is no great nobility in creating an incredible painting. My question is, Now what are you going to do with that incredible painting that will result in something of REAL value? If I am going to be remembered for anything, it is just as a person who caused people to think and realize how important wildlife is.” I joined John for a workshop that fall in Canada and found the answer I had been looking for. Art would be my connection to conservation efforts. My knowledge of animal behavior and anatomy and reverence for each animal as an individual explained why animals were my muse. Over the years I attended workshops with Terry and John (even traveling to Kenya on an artist’s safari – talk about memorable!) a couple more times as well as John and Suzi Seerey-Lester, Jan Martin McGuire, and Guy Combes. I learned so much about techniques and found camaraderie with the other artists and felt at home. I continue to attend workshops whenever possible.

http://www.michellemccunedvm.com/

Visual Language Magazine Studio Visit with UK Artist Tony O'Connor

Visual Language Magazine Studio Visit with UK Artist Tony O'Connor

I’m now three years a full time artist. 

I had studied Fine Art back in the late nineties, and graduated with an Honors Degree and a head full of confusion on what to do next with my life. I decided that working full time in a non art related job would be just the thing to sort my life out and there I stayed. For the most of a decade, slowly going crazy, and almost developing a nervous twitch anytime I had to deal with a member of the public.

I had dabbled with art during my time at the “day job” and always felt it a way to deal with the stress of a hard day. 

I hadn’t really dared to think of having a “life” as an artist, as I figured that now I was married, about to have children and buying houses (all grown up stuff), and I needed the security of having a paying job; but I wasn’t happy where I was. I knew I was happiest painting & creating. I set myself the goal of getting an exhibition in 2009... and set to work on my 1st solo show with gusto... finishing “work” at 5 30pm, popping home to say hi to a very understanding wife, and heading back out in the evenings to a cold, dark studio (the attic above the warehouse where I worked) to continue to build my portfolio.

The exhibition opened—I sold—galleries contacted me. Commissions started coming my way and I began to spend more and more time on art, and less and less time “caring” about my day job. I will be forever grateful to my old employers for putting up with me for so long, and I still remain very good friends with each person in there. In May 2011, I handed in my notice, and decided that I HAD to do this as a living, one way or another!

I bagged myself a nice little studio in the city center, run by a group of fresh faced artists who had just graduated from college. Soon I gained the reputation as “the horse guy” and my production rate went through the roof. 10 hours of uninterrupted day, and evenings too, if I wanted to be in Heaven painting horses.  

Last year the chance came up for a bigger studio space, and I jumped at it.  I now have a bigger studio space (twice the size I had when I started) and I can most likely brag that I have the best “office” space in the city, as I over look the main street of the city from two floors above it!

My job is to be an Artist... if you can call it a job— it’s more of a calling I think. As the old saying goes, “It’s a beautiful thing when a career and passion come together.”

I realize that I’ve very lucky to have found my path in life, and that it hasn’t been too bumpy so far.  I’m a big believer that we all should do what makes us happiest (unless that’s against the law ;-0) and if my story can inspire people to follow their hearts and dreams, and to make a go of it, then I’ll do my best to encourage them. The main thing I’ve learned is that FEAR should not be a factor when making decisions. Being scared of what might happen is worse that regretting it never happened. Fear can be good sometimes as it can light a fire under your ass, and keeps you motivated. If you can balance the two, without turning neurotic, then everything is going well!! 

I hope to bring my particular brand of “neuroticness” to the USA in June this year. I have been invited to tutor at an Equine Art Retreat in Oklahoma. If you’d like to know more about this, please follow me on Facebook or pop onto my website for details. 

https://www.whitetreestudio.ie

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tony-O-Connor-Equine-Art/275031255420

Studio Visit Visual Language with Texas Artist Pat Meyer

It seems that most women dedicating their lives nurturing and taking care of others. While Husbands, Children and Loved ones are the most important part of my life their comes a time when you move from the back burner to the front and that is what happen with my art several years ago. After retiring as a Senior VP of a large corporation and serving on the Board of Directors it was my time to explore another part of myself with my true feelings and desires. My passion is creating beautiful things that others would also enjoy viewing. 

When viewing the world around me I see great beauty that God provides in every turn and for one moment in time I would like to translate what I see into an expression of my feelings toward their own beauty. This seems so difficult at times since how can you improve on the natural beauty that already exist in each flower, landscape or person. This is the great challenge and enjoyment of art for me delighting in the learning experience each time I pick up my brush. !

Many days and nights are spent evaluating and learning how to express myself through art. The pure joy of being so lost in the painting that you are creating you do not even realize what time it is. That complete emersion of the subject is so thrilling that you want your excitement about the subject to come through on the canvas!

The simple beauty of flower can make you stop and take pause for just that instant knowing that enjoyment is all around if we take time to look for it. Now to continue that instant and hold on to it on the canvas for a lifetime what better gift can you give. 

During this journey of art I have met the most amazing artist and now friends that have helped mentor me. Judy Crowe gave of herself in my learning experience along with Qiang Haung, Robert Johnson, Scott Burdick, Daniel Keys and John Budicin. These great artist and their love of art have greatly influenced my personal style of painting. My goals from here are to continue to

grow with each brush stroke, to achieve an even higher level of expression and add even more professionalism by studying and painting daily. 

My hope for you is as you look deep into the heart of each of my paintings that you will discover they are not just beautiful pieces of art but that each piece conveys it’s own special message of hope, love and endurance. Carrying a message from God of peace, joy and beauty that he has blessed our lives!

In closing May I say thank you all for your support, love and generosity that you have shown to me and my artist journey.

http://www.patmeyer-artist.com/

David Yapp, Studio Visit out of Doors with Visual Language Magazine

A Painter’s Journey

David Yapp reflects on his path to plein air painting

Cutting through the chalk downland of Salisbury plain, in the southern English county of Wiltshire, is the gently flowing River Avon. The river runs south from its source in Pewsey Vale, through the medieval city of Salisbury, to the sea at Christchurch. It was along this river that I grew up on a small farm on the edge of a village not many miles from the ancient monument of Stonehenge.

The Wiltshire landscape is one of Neolithic burial sites, windswept hawthorn encrusted plains and chalk stream valleys, strewn with villages dating back to pre-Norman times. And above all this is the sweeping drama of the constantly changing sky.

The landscape and towns of the county are rich in history and have fed the artistic hearts and minds of many writers and artists. The penultimate scene of Thomas Hardy’s novel, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, is set at Stonehenge, and his fictitious city of Melchester, featured in Jude the Obscure, is based on the city of Salisbury. Artists Sir John Constable and J. M. W. Turner found a source for creative expression in the gothic splendor of Salisbury Cathedral and in the rugged forms of Stonehenge.

Like the River Avon, my own creative path has been a meandering one. Growing up on a farm, I spent much of my youth exploring and observing nature along the banks of the Avon and throughout the surrounding countryside. Paint and brush gave me a vehicle to portray the beauty I saw around me.

My interest in observing nature developed during my teens. A family friend who was studying zoology shared with me his fascination of entomology (the study of insects). We searched the water meadows, for exotic-looking beetles and metallic clad dragonflies. At night we set up a light trap to see what nocturnal winged beings we could discover. I started to paint some of these finds in watercolor, along with the flora they inhabited.

In the following years, at the local college, I made another connection to the animal kingdom. The biology professor, Patrick James, was an eccentric and interesting chap who had majored in zoology. He spent much of the lecture time talking about his fieldwork—time spent diving, and dodging sharks in the Caribbean. I had planned on working towards a zoology degree, but I soon realized that I was more interested in observing nature than analyzing it scientifically. After seeing my plant and animal drawings Mr. James suggested I look into pursuing wildlife illustration.

As a precursor to that I attended Salisbury Art College. The foundation art course I took was an opportunity to explore a range of disciplines, from drawing, painting and printmaking to illustration, and then to decide which one to pursue. That first year was a challenge for me, as for the first time I had to really get to grips with the rudiments of drawing, painting and . . . seeing.

Following on from this course I studied for a diploma in wildlife illustration in Carmarthen, Wales. This was an opportunity to establish and sharpen the skills I had developed the previous year. Many professional artists and illustrators came in to tutor us. They passed on to us their great enthusiasm for their given disciplines. One such person was the artist Gordon Stuart.

I did not fully appreciate at the time how accomplished Gordon was as an artist, with work in the collection of the National Portrait Gallery in London—he painted the last portrait of the poet Dylan Thomas. Gordon encouraged me in my nascent abilities when I had little confidence in them and said, “You will always paint.” He also wrote to me a letter of encouragement to wish me well on my first solo art show.

That first solo show was held at Oxford University in 1988. I owe much to my sister Maria, not only for suggesting the idea but also for getting me connected to the appropriate parties to make
it happen.

After completing my time at college in Wales, it became apparent that I was not really cut out to be a wildlife illustrator, but was more interested in painting landscapes. One college professor said he saw me as someone who wants to be down a country lane painting scenery—I think a “picture maker” was how he called it. And so, eventually, after having pursued several interim jobs, that is what I did.

The next five years proved to be very rewarding, but also financially rather challenging as I pursued my art. Initially, as I sought to pursue my art full-time, I felt like I had just walked off the end of a plank into the deep. I literally prayed to God for help, and He strengthened me in a way I had not known before. He also brought people into my life that spoke words of direction and encouragement to me.

One such person was Trevor Martin, an assistant pastor at my local church, who was also a practicing graphic designer. He took a look at my work—back in those days it was on slides, as we had not entered the digital era. I remember how he would press the slide viewer to his eye and declare “how delightful” as he viewed the artwork. For me this was one of those glimmers of light and encouragement that we all need along the road—especially when you are trying to find direction.

Trevor suggested that for the next six months I just focus on doing pen and watercolor views of townscapes and landscapes, and then at the end of it have an exhibition. This gave me not only a goal, but also a focus.

I set myself up with a stool, drawing board and watercolors, traveling by bicycle and train to paint the local scenic towns and villages of Hampshire and Surrey. Much to my surprise, I had many people approach me to ask if they could purchase my paintings, and I was able to sell many on the spot! I continued pursuing this way of working, creating artwork for exhibition and commission, for five years. It was a rewarding time in which I met many interesting folks on my painting adventures.

Eventually, looking for a more stable and predictable income, I decided to train in graphic design. Digital design was a new world for me as I got to grips with design principles and learned an array of software programs. The differing perceptions needed for design were an interesting complement to the more organic nuances of painting.

It was when I moved to the Bay Area, that my interest in oil painting was ignited. I started to read about the California plein air painters, a majority of whom were oil painters. In England, the soft light had lent itself to watercolors, but now in California, I could see that the more intense Mediterranean light lent itself to rendering the landscape in oils.

I am fortunate to live in San Francisco, not far from the Golden Gate Bridge. This gives me ready access to Marin County, it’s coastal Headlands and Mount Tamalpais. Further afield is the often fog-laden Mendocino coast, and to the East, the Sierra Nevada mountains. All great locations for plein air painting.

I tend to paint on canvas, as opposed to panels, as I like the “give” that you get from the non-rigid surface. I enjoy using heavy impasto and find that a palette knife is easiest for thicker applications of paint. But I prefer the softer more subtle effect that a natural bristle brush can bring, so I am experimenting, working with both in tandem.

At the moment I am reading and looking at landscape art from those who have already trod the path—John F. Carlson, Richard Schmid and David Curtis, for example. I am also looking at a diverse range of artists who are not associated with the plein air tradition, such as Richard Diebenkorn, and many British artists, such as John Piper, Samuel Palmer and Eric Ravilious.

I am blessed to live a five-minute walk from the de Young Museum, here in San Francisco, so I have had the opportunity to view the ongoing collection of art and the special exhibitions. Recently on show was David Hockney’s, “A Bigger Exhibition,” a collection of his huge canvases painted in Yorkshire. His paintings en plein air are a leap away from what is often considered as plein air art, but are nonetheless thought provoking and inspiring.

So I continue to pursue my painting adventures, sometimes as in life, with a halting step. I see that the beauty in a scene does not always come from a totality of unhindered harmony. The juxtaposition of disparate forms—a shattered rock, a sinuous storm-contorted tree, or a glacier creek—can converge into a harmonious whole, or, may leave us with an unresolved tension. Similarly, life does not provide us with a clear unobstructed path, but in navigating the obstacles we can discover a greater meaning and beauty. As plein air painters, may we not only paint a pleasing scene, but portray in our art this more complex beauty.

http://www.davidyappfineart.com/