Robert Francis James

Inspiration is for amateurs. — Chuck Close Old objects and the personal memories associated with them inspire my paintings. I’m content to call it nostalgia . Like weight-gain, nostalgia is an affliction of the aged and can rapidly get out of hand. I especially loathe the kind that wistfully pines for a rosy past that never was so rosy. But at least I’m never at a loss for inspiration. Thanks to post-World War II consumerism, there are millions of old objects for me to paint : millions of cans, bottles, tools and toys that have been stashed away in attics, basements and garages; and millions more on display in thrift stores, antique malls and on eBay. I can buy these for a song. I just finished a Yoo Hoo bottle and am planning next to paint a beer can—specifically, a Ballentine’s Beer can—an idea planted by a throwaway remark made to me this week by another artist, Peter Swift , while we were waxing nostalgic about Newark, New Jersey (the home, until 1972, of the P. Ballantine ...

All painting is accident. — Francis Bacon My small oil painting Nutella  came about almost by itself and almost instantly—or at least it felt that way, coming on the heels as it did on a much larger painting entitled Yoo Hoo.  Nutella  took less than two hours to paint; Yoo Hoo , nearly eight. Slathering paint on with a spatula and spreading it about with a pallet knife reminded me the whole time I was painting of smearing fresh Nutella  onto a warm slice of toast. Only the initial drawing and the lettering across the label required use of a brush. The lesson here is that oil painting is a game of letting go, of gestures that are loose and free. Grabbing an unopened jar of the goop off the pantry shelf and plopping it in front of the easel was an unpremeditated act. The fact of the matter was, I had two hours of time left in a three-hour painting class (online) and—with Yoo Hoo unexpectedly finished—lacked any plan for my next painting. All I knew was ...

The question is not what you look at, but what you see. — Henry David Thoreau This week I had to print my Artist Statement for an exhibition and wondered whether it was up to date. I’d put a lot of work into it last year (as did my business consultant, Danielle Glosser ), so was pleased to find the statement still works: I paint small, alla prima expressionist still lifes in oil on canvas and canvas board.  My goal is to capture the workaday things that compose our homes. Most of our days seem like a ceaseless whirlwind of doing; but by applauding the plain and prosaic, my paintings ask the viewer to slow down, step back, stop doing and start looking —if only for a minute. Stop doing and start looking : that crystalizes my purpose as an artist—both for myself and my viewers. But that’s easier said than done (were it easy, it wouldn’t be a purpose worth the pursuit). Stopping/looking. Looking is difficult enough; stopping poses the even larger challenge—a challenge...