A collection of stories, thoughts and good vibes from my back porch

I do several mini-workshops during the year. They focus on the "how" to paint and not so much on the "why" or other technical aspects of painting. The workshops are step-by-step instruction on building a painting in an hour or two. I always tell my attendants that if they do what I tell them to do they will have a nice, finished piece of art they can hang. In virtually every class there is someone who has never painted before or that has painted in the past, but thought it took weeks to do an oil painting right. They can't get it up front how we will finish an oil painting in a couple of hours. But we do. And they do. 

One of the ladies in the class told me after we had finished, "I'm 63 years old and never knew I could paint. I didn't know I could do that!" I love hearing comments like that and hear something similar in every class. 

It's not hard if one follows instruction. I was fortunate to have a great mentor, Bill Zaner, in my life when I first started oil painting. "You don't have to do what I tell you, but if you don't you'll probably get into trouble," he would tell me. I watched him, asked questions, listened, and then executed his tutelage. He would tell me that he couldn't teach me anything because he was not a teacher, he was a painter. But I listened. And I learned. I did what he showed me. And I got better. 

I would finish a nice painting quickly using his techniques, just like he showed me. He would look at it, then look at me, raising one bushy eyebrow, and ask, "You did that? How?" "I just did what you showed me," I would answer. "Goddammit," he would reply, "You owe me." And I still do. I lost Bill several years ago, but I'm paying back my debt to him by doing what he did for me: helping others learn the joy of creating art. 

I think Bill wanted others to see and enjoy the beauty he saw all around him, all the time. He expressed it on canvas, and although he didn't teach anymore, he allowed me into his world for a short time, and helped me see things I would not have seen otherwise. And now I have the privilege of giving what he gave me - the art of painting. Bringing joy to others through color. Giving back. He never showed me anything grudgingly, and didn't hold back, except on one thing.

We were discussing color one early morning over coffee, and  I was asking him about how he would express a particular pink that was in the sky that morning. I wanted to know what mix of colors he would use, because I saw it so many times in his work. He asked me, "What would you use?" I did my best to answer him, and he simply said, "Try that." I did, and I could never get it right. A year or so after he passed, his son, Matt told me he has some things of Bill's he wanted me to have. I gladly accepted those treasures. One of the items was a French easels. I use it every time I do a demo or teach a class. Inside the easel were several tubes of paint. And one of them was a tube of, yep,  pink paint, of which I will not reveal the name or brand, because it was Bill's secret. I believe he wanted me to find out for myself, that's why he didn't tell me. And I think when I found it, he raised an eyebrow, cracked a smile from heaven, and said, "You owe me." 

I just came off a one week vacation from painting. It was not intentional, but this week, I had a lot of other things to do that took priority over being in the studio. For one thing, I need some rest - I've been going at a pretty fast pace sine I retired from a job 7 weeks ago. I've completed 25 paintings in that time, and I write daily. I realized last week that if I continue to do that, I'll run out of supplies and burn myself out. So I took a break. 

I was productive at my job because I had a routine. I had a daily plan, and I took the time to make lists and time-block. I never had a rigid schedule, but if I didn't organize myself, I found I was only going from one thing to the next, procrastinating, and soon the 'important' things became 'urgent' things. And then I was just putting out fires and catching up. And again, I was putting off important things and not making time to do what I enjoyed the most - interacting with people. Engaging. Teaching. Learning. All of which I am free to do when the most important things of the day are taken care of first.

So I took time this week to time-block my month. There are certain things I must do each day. I need time to write and meditate. I need time to eat. I need time to walk the dogs and get exercise. I need to for marketing, networking, rotating paintings, and staying in contact with galleries. And I need time to paint. There are those important things I must do - setting appointments, returning emails, organizing my taxes (this time of year), and cleaning my studio so I have working space. I have to make sure those little things are done so I have time to take care of the things I really want and like to do. 

So as artists, if we take care of the things that need to be done first, we have the time and freedom to be creative and pursue our passion. And when we have that freedom, it shows in our work. Our work is what touches others at a deep level. I think we are obligated, not only to others, but to ourselves, to give our best. 

My mission is to bring compassion, encouragement, and acceptance into others' lives through my art, writing, and everyday living. To learn something every day, and to teach someone something every day. And if nothing else, to be the reason someone smiles. We reach others at a very deep level with art. It's the little things that cause big things to fail. Take care of the little things first.

I recently retired from a "regular" job. I've discovered I really like it. One of the things I've found is I now have the time to focus on my creativity, resources, and passions. I've also had time to explore the different things I have available to me to help my business and get more organized as a serious artist and painter. I'm finding the time to explore new things and develop myself in other areas like painting abstract. And I'm finding that the abstract work is helping in my representational compositions too. It's a wonderful thing. 

The other thing I discovered is that I also have time to do nothing if I want to. Nothing feels good. Doing nothing means I am getting rest - my body, my spirit, and my brain. Rest is one of those things we take for granted too often. We need rest to heal. We need rest to be able to think. We need rest to recover and recharge. We need rest for our body, our mind, and our soul. Rest helps us see things from a different perspective. 

I'm discovering that I can do so much more - with color, with paint, with shape, with composition. And I am doing it. I'm having fun discovering a part of me that has been dormant for 66 years. It's been in me, but I didn't know how to bring it out. When a person works most of their days and week, there's not really time to devote to much else. Since my work is now all related to my art, I have time to focus on my painting, my marketing, my outreach, networking, and creating. 

Linda gave me this thought as I was recovering from shoulder surgery:

R = Relax - take time to think, meditate, do nothing

E = Exercise - your mind, your body, your love

S = Spirituality - stay connected to your spirit and to the Great Spirit

T = Time - take time to heal, tor recover, to discover, to give

Take time to rest. It is in rest we can discover, harmonize, and flow with the spirit.

I was inspired today by a post from a Facebook friend and fellow artist, Scott D. Wilson, to write this thought.

My dad, always concerned with my future, decided the best way for me to get ahead and be productive was to get an excellent education. He pushed me and my siblings to 'be the best.' The problem for me was I was always smarter than my teachers, and learning and excelling in school was easy for me. I've loved drawing and painting since I was a child, but my dad discouraged that as foolishness and pushed me towards academics - specifically, math and science, in which he also excelled. He never thought I could make a living as an artist, although he recognized I had a talent. I went to college for one semester and got bored quickly, and pursued other ways I thought would get my father's approval. I enlisted in the US Coast Guard, and found an 'easy' job that involved math and science but still have me a lot of free time to pursue my creative side. After the service, I spent over 3 decades in math and science fields (financial planning and opticianry).

A few months before my dad died we were in the kitchen talking, and he got up suddenly, dug around in his closet and came back with a stack of watercolor paintings I had done over the years. He was proud of them, and told me that I needed to spend more time painting. He died shortly after that and my catharsis was painting. It was in each new work I was able to express my grief and at the same time, my appreciation for pursuing excellence toward which my dad pushed me. It was a few years later I met my ‘second dad’ and another ‘brother’ who encouraged me to pursue excellence and develop my skills in painting.

Since then, I have been encouraged to pursue my passion and work to create each new painting to be better than the last one. Is it always? Honestly, no, but every ‘failure’ gives me reason to examine what went wrong or right and create another. And then another. And again – another. My second dad told me if I wanted to learn to paint, I just needed to paint. And then paint again. And then paint some more. He had a discipline of painting every day and he was a master. My brother artist, David does the same. And he is a master and getting better with each painting. Discipline, creativity, work ethic, and analytics – using math and science to create something beautiful, lasting, and desirable. I think that’s what my dad wanted for me.

So, I have never lost my child-like desire to color and doodle. I just do it sometimes in a more refined way. But every day, each work, every brush stroke is new and an attempt at something I’ve never done before. I’m not growing up, but I’m growing better, wiser, more decisive. I still want to explore, to imagine, to show someone something that’s in my mind. I want to express a feeling or a thought. I want to show the world beauty, and I want to show my heart. I’m more mature, but I refuse to grow up. I desire to keep that child-like curiosity and wide-eyed wonder of loving the world around me and stay connected to people through what I paint. I’m so grateful for those who encourage me and love me – even if I don’t grow up.

One of the things I enjoy about painting is the fact that I have the ability to work fast. Painting en plein air is good practice. I have learned that I need to capture light and color while it is there because everything changes so quickly. This has helped me tremendously in the studio. I have spent many hours talking about and studying color and color mixing, how to make them dark or light, and how to create light. One of my mentors showed me how to mix those different values on my palette before I laid them on the canvas. He also showed me how to mix enough color to cover a large area, and how to apply it quickly with a knife. Another mentor of mine showed me how to block in a painting with shapes and blocks. All of this has helped me in creating a painting quickly.

I have a ritual I do before every painting. After I tone my canvas, I pour myself a glass of wine or a beer and give a toast, "to a great painting." My goal is to make this painting better than the one before. There is a fair amount of thought that goes into planning out a painting. I think about how to compose it to make it interesting and impactful. 

I can see the painting on the canvas even before the first stroke is laid. The process is really pretty simple. I imagine my canvas in thirds, horizontally and vertically. My horizon typically is on the bottom third, my sky takes up most of the top two thirds. And there is some interesting middle ground also. I try to create some focal points and see if I can make the eye follow an S pattern through the painting. My points of interest are usually where the third lines intersect. Here's how my paintings begin:

The canvas is toned, and I have blocked in my foreground, leaving some negative space where I will insert highlights and lighter colors. You can see in this painting my focus is going to be on the sky. At this point, I already have in my mind how I am going to make the sky and where my main focal point will be. 

On to the sky, which I do next before I finish the horizon and three line. 

I now have an interesting sky, and I will finish by adding in the tree line, the main focal point (the setting sun) and then add highlights in the sky and foreground. 

Here is the finished painting:

I added the setting sun, inserted highlights in the sky, and created an interesting (not too detailed) foreground. My main focal point is the sun, and the secondary focal points are in the sky. The eye follows this easily from the sky and ends up at the sun. You can imagine a giant S starting in the sky and coming back around into the foreground. And that makes a good painting. Composition, color, and content. This was about 4 hours of work, ala prima, in the studio. 

What is "the extra mile" and how does it fit into our daily lives? In short, it's going above and beyond your normal routine, going out of your way to make sure something is not just done right, but a little extra care has been taken, a little extra effort, just that little bit more that shows you care. 

I want to bring attention to Andrew Solis at Caliber Collision in San Antonio (on Loop 410). His boss is Robert Barerra, and he deserves some credit too, for managing a great team and a great employee. I recently had my Jeep busted up with hail damage. I thought for sure it would be totaled - it was pretty bad.

 Before

After

Not only did they fix my Jeep, they came and dropped it off at my work so I didn't have to come pick it up! So, I know they do this all the time, but I have to give accolades to Andrew Solis, the driver/runner. Andrew has a pretty contagious smile. You can tell he loves his work and what he does. He's a good ambassador for his company, and they should be proud to have him. Andrew had to come pick up my Jeep today to fix a minor problem. He came by this morning, and I let him know I needed to be gone by 3 o'clock because I have to be back in Boerne this afternoon. No problem, he said. I'll have it fixed and right back. (I was honestly expecting it to be back at 2:59 or later).  At 11:55 am, ( a little more than 2 hours later) my phone rang. It was the front desk letting me know my car was here. And there was Andrew, big old smile, and telling me he parked it right back where it was this morning. Thank you, Andrew. You made my day.

Andrew

So it's that little extra - the "extra mile" that counts the most. Under promise and over deliver is another way to put it. How many times do we promise something, get it done, and that's it? I'm ashamed to say sometimes that's all I delivered. Not bad service, I kept my promise....just not great, excellent, "extra-mile" service. Do that little extra when you deliver - a thank you card, a small gift, a smile, sometimes that's all it takes to make someone's day. Go out there today and do that extra mile! Make someone's day! 

My back porch is where I like to do my morning thinking, drink my coffee, and write. This morning I am enjoying my view as the sun begins to heat up the day and thinking about people who have changed my life. One in particular comes to mind, because yesterday, he showed me how I could be changing other's lives. We change other people's lives many times without thinking. Sometimes for the good, and sadly, oftentimes for the worst. We do so with our attitudes, our reactions, and our demeanor. Sometimes it's on purpose, and sometimes, it's just how we are, but I think in my elder years I have become more conscious  of my attitude, and my back porch morning routine is to get centered, focused, and decide to live my day on purpose. 

I was challenged one day many years ago, to write down 20 things I am thankful for. Have you ever tried that? The first time I tried, honestly, it was difficult. Our nature makes it easy to think of 20 things that bother us or that we're angry about, but to list 20 things we are thankful for....well, that's not our nature - unless we begin a life of purpose. We have to look for the good, because it's our nature to be wary, irritated, sore, and sometimes offended. To change your nature to look for good is hard for some. It takes practice. It takes doing it on purpose.

Back to my original thought - yesterday I heard a speaker our company brought in to speak to our support staff. Today and the rest of the week he is spending time with our agents. Sean Carpenter's presentation had one part that stood out for me in particular. It was the story of his blog and finding people or services that are blog-worthy. He spoke about being blog-worthy - making extra effort beyond our regular job duties to make our customers' experiences memorable and worthy of a good review - although that's not the reason we provide service like that. It's just about being the best, and delivering above and beyond what our customers and those we serve expect. We do it for ourselves as well as for others. 

He writes about his blog-worthy encounters, and it blesses the people about whom he writes. He makes a difference in their lives and work environment. He raises their spirits, shines the spotlight on their work and attitude, and makes sure they are recognized for their service. He encouraged our support staff to be blog-worthy, but he demonstrated how he does it. And it changed something in me. I love to write, and I am not afraid to give reviews or testimonials when I receive good service. But I am going to take it a step further, and look for blog-worthy people - on-purpose - and write about them. Beyond a testimonial or short review...I want to find good in those I am encountering on a daily basis. And it takes effort...I have to do it on purpose.

So, thank you, Sean. Our short discussion at happy hour last night helped me re-name my blog, as my 20 mile view in the morning is where I start every day thinking about what I choose, who I choose to be, and why I choose to do what I do. My 20 mile view is a long view. It goes beyond my immediate surroundings. When we can see beyond our immediate area, the view gets fantastic. When we can see beyond our space, there is a lot of beauty. I look forward every morning to getting up, just so I can open my bedroom door and look out the window. sit on my porch and enjoy my view. Sometimes I'm lucky to watch the sunrise, sometimes it's cloudy, foggy, or rainy. It's always different. But the one constant is this. From my view, I can decide what my day will be like, and how I can affect others. I think about painting, what I am currently struggling with, and how I need to change. I think about how what I do , what I paint, what I sell, who I meet, and how my work is going to affect those I come in contact with today. I decide each day what my day is going to be like because that's the one thing I can control. And I choose my attitude. I choose to live on-purpose. 

Thank you, Sean. I appreciate your purpose and helping me focus on mine. 

#20MileView

About a year and a half ago, my sister, Patricia approached me with an idea to create a Little Free Library in honor of our mother. Our mother always, and still does, love to read. I'm talking like 3 or 4 books at a time...even now, in her 80's she continues to read all the time. Both our parents insisted we get educated and be contributors to society. Education ...understand how to reason, how to calculate, how to create, how to make good decisions, to learn about different ideas, cultures, and thoughts. All this could be possible if we could learn to read - and we did. She would pile us all in the car to different libraries each week, and we would come home with all the books we could carry. If we weren't driving somewhere, we would be walking down the block when the mobile library came. She insisted we read, she encouraged us to read, she led us to read. And for that, I am thankful. Any problem I ever want to solve can be done so by reading. I know there's YouTube, but let me tell you, if I read something, I'll understand and retain it better. Yes, I'm that guy who prefers to read (although today's journalists have a lot to learn about writing) rather than watch a video. I actually can read something faster than listening to a video. And I prefer it that way. 

I wrote all that to make you read....ha! And I'm going to write a bit more, so I hope I can hold your attention. The Little Free Library and Birdie's Nook idea blossomed into a very big project over the last year and a half. From a modest idea that we thought might run us about $750 to create, it turned into an architectural project that involved interns from Overland Partners, an architectural firm in San Antonio, the City of San Antonio, Jefferson Area Historical District, the Historic and Design Review Commission of San Antonio, and the Monticello Park Neighborhood Association. It was a collaboration of ideas beginning with input from each one of the siblings, and then designed and built by the Overland Partners interns. And the entire project symbolizes our mother's influence - beginning with the story of "The Giving Tree," by Shel Silverstein.

The interns took our ideas - the SELFLESS giving of our mother, creating a WELCOMING environment that would be a BEACON in the community that would be DURABLE and long-lasting, that would "connect people of all ages with the landscape, while providing a welcoming and inspiring place to escape into a story" (from the Mission Statement). "And she loved a little boy very,very much - even more than she loved herself." - The Giving Tree  - Please read more about the project here. (along with images of the ideas and plans)

We held a ribbon cutting ceremony on May 13, 2017, to the complete surprise of our mom! It was a great Mother's Day gift, and brought all of us together to honor her that day. I'd like to take a moment to briefly explain the symbolism of some of the components (including the artwork).

The library kiosk serves as a beacon of knowledge by providing opportunity through literacy and shared space, and represents our mom. There are 2 walls, held up by 6 pillars, representing the 6 siblings, and connected together with cables that support slats that represent the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There is a bench that represents a place to rest, and one wall has baskets that the community can share plants and harvest with each other. Inside the kiosk are 6 shelves, again, representing the siblings, and each shelf holds the books and knowledge to share with the community. On one side of the kiosk is a painting of a 2-trunk oak, representing one tree with 2 individual trunks - each unique, but inseparable. The trunks each have individual branches representing the family, And overall, the tree as a whole represents our family, providing steadfastness, shelter, life, a place for the weary traveler to find shade and rest. It is situated by a river that represents life. The landscape represents the community and its history.

The other side has a cactus - the bottom petal is our mom, and there are 6 petals. 35 flowers are representative of each grandchild and great-grandchild. The butterflies and hummingbird are 2 of our mom's favorites. 

Here are some of the pictures from the ribbon cutting ceremony:

Mom "cutting" the ribbonBrothers and sisters and MomPlacing books in the KioskThe interns and Lead Architect from Overland Partners (and Ben Rosas)

The family

This was by far, the greatest project I've ever been involved in. It was very fulfilling! I would like to thank Overland Partners for their donation of thought, materials, the interns, and the manpower to build it, Ben Rosas, the City of San Antonio, The Jefferson Area Historic District, Monticello Park Neighborhood Association, all of those businesses that donated materials, books, and their time to be at the ceremony! Thank you from my heart. 

One thing we can always be assured of is that things will not remain the same. Change is constant, and life is very fluid. I say “fluid” because like water, life can be directed, redirected, or flow freely. Water, on its own, finds the path of least resistance. It will flow wherever it is allowed. A river or stream follows the same path until it is changed either by some major event or a purposeful redirection. If it is allowed to stop, it will eventually stagnate and everything in it and around it will die and decay.

In 2010, my life began to take another direction. It was not my choice that circumstances forced Linda and I to face some major uncertainty, and eventually make choices that brought us to Boerne, Texas. A series of events led me to leave familiar ground – in my business, our social circles, and our family. At the time, I thought it was purely for economics, and it made sense for me to change careers and find employment that required this move south. 3 years later, some of the reasons for moving are becoming more apparent, and clearly, it has been a good move. I might even say it has been the best move we have ever made.

After commuting weekly for 8 months – 3 hours one way, we moved here in May of 2011. Two weeks after moving here, on the 2nd Saturday of June, I walked into an art gallery on Main Street that changed my life. I remember there was a wall directly in front of the door that had several oil paintings of the Texas hill country. I walked over to one particular painting, and as I was looking at it, I was overcome with emotion. The painting (by Bill Zaner) drew me in immediately, and somehow was able to convey something very deep, and reassured me that Linda and I had made the best decision. There was peace in the painting – something that took me back to a time long before Linda and I met – a scene of the hills that said, “Welcome home.” I allowed the emotion to consume me, and I stood there, weeping, feeling peace, like a hand was on my shoulder comforting my soul.

It was months later, after frequenting that gallery, and hanging out (I made it known I wasn’t leaving) with several artists who have become my friends and support, that I decided I wanted to paint again. I had no clue where to start, but I mentioned to my nephew that I needed to buy some paints, and he told me he had a whole box of them someone had abandoned. I paid him a few bucks, acquired some canvas panels, pulled out my collection of brushes someone had given me years back, and started painting.

My life has changed as I have uncovered a passion that began years ago, as a teenager that loved to dabble with watercolor. I was lucky enough to meet my friend, Johny Rosa, a man of similar passion for life that shows in everything he does. And I was lucky to meet those artists whom I now call my friends – I’ve drank a lot of beer with these guys…and traveled places with them to paint. They have all encouraged me to pursue excellence, and I have gotten better.

So here I am in Boerne, an artist struggling to get better, building what will be my next career to take me through “retirement.” And life is good. I am lucky to have a good company in which to work, that pays me well. I have a boss that encourages me to get out of my comfort zone. All I am learning at work, I am applying to my art. I’m being challenged, I’m striving to get better, and I am learning how to be me.

There are many of you reading these words that have been an encouragement to me, and I thank you for your friendship. For those of you that have commented, called me, or sent me a note along the way, know that means so much to me. Thank you.

Much love,
Pauly