Love
By Jack White

I can still hear Tina Turner blasting the airwaves in 1993 with her marvelous voice asking, “What's love got to do with it?” I'm not a Beatles fan but I would of had to been marooned on an island to have missed, “All you need is Love.” The Beatles song hit America around 1967 three years before I ever entertained the thought of earning a living as an artist. Recently on a trip west to do gallery events I was flipping the radio dial and stumbled upon to the Beatles singing, “All you need is love.” I started to change stations when Mikki (my wife) shouted, “Don't touch that dial.” Then to my consternation she proceeded to sing along with the four shaggy haired dudes who I can assure you were not singing in Texan. They were using a foreign language. I'm crazy about Mikki but bless her heart she only beats me a little singing, which is saying nothing positive. We are not allowed to sing in Church for fear we will disturb the congregation.

One of the gallery events took us to Las Vegas the city that never sleeps. As we drove down the strip a big flashing sign jumped out from all the others. In big bold letters monstrous sign read: LOVE. I almost swallowed my tongue. The Mirage Hotel has a new Cirque du Soleil performance they simply call Love. “The Beatles LOVE is the Cirque founder Guy Laliberte's tribute to his late friend George Harrison. In a thirty-minute span love was coming at me in every direction. I even had the love of my life sitting beside me damaging my ears with her singing.

As I listened to the Beatles with my mate singing in disharmony I longed to hear Tina or better yet Willie Nelson. Then like a bolt of lightening it struck me, what does love have to do with our art careers? The answer is obvious, EVERYTHING. Unless we are passionately or perhaps a tad insane in love about making and selling art we are in the wrong field. If you can be happy doing anything except working as an artist then I recommend you fold your tent, give away your supplies and get a day job. Unless you are in love with your career you won't make it as an artist. Being an artist is like a marriage. Don't marry unless you are confident you love the other person. Note I said in love, not in lust. I'm afraid all too many marry out of lust or need. The term over our heads in love is like wading out into the ocean until the water engulfs you. Under water we cannot breathe and the undercurrent is trying to carry us out into the deep. Real love is like being covered in ocean water knowing without our mate we cannot breathe. Love is the air in our lungs. I personally believe being an artist should evoke the same emotion as marriage. Wood ducks mate for life. When you pick up the mantel to become an artist you are mating for life. Slit your wrist and love for making art will flow from your body instead of blood.

If I were locked in solitary confinement I could be content as long as I was provided with paper and pencil. I can recall with clarity when I first decided to write books to help my fellow travelers. I felt like I was being tempted to cheat on my wife. I was so committed and deeply in love with painting I felt like I was being unfaithful to my art if I took time to write. I knew time away from the easel was a betrayal of my profession. I do know if I didn't have such a strong desire to help others I would never allowed myself to pull away from painting and onto the keyboard. I still paint but just in the afternoons. You may think it funny that I struggled so much when I decided to split my time between painting and writing. You wouldn't if you were really smitten with painting the way I am. Writing and painting has become my “spatha” or double edge sword.

When I first started painting a master artist gave me a playing card, the Jack of Hearts. His name is A. D. Greer. I can still hear him say, “Jack, you will be tempted and distracted. Anytime that happens pull out your one eyed Jack to remind yourself to remain focused.” Over the years when I was enticed to do anything but make art I pulled the card from my pocket. I still have the tattered One Eyed Jack Mr. Greer gave me in 1970. I had to reconcile with my playing card about the time I would use writing verses my hours at the easel. The first year I suffered a lot of guilt. Only when I was flooded with emails from artist thanking me for showing them the way did I have any relief. I needed approval from my readers before I could resolve my guilt. Even now there are days I have a tinge of mixed emotion. That is how deeply I'm in love with making and selling art. I'm thankful my portrait demand keeps me busy. I'm currently working on a $25,000 portrait with several more in the hopper.

Whiteism: Art expresses that which cannot be said. For we who love art it's impossible to silence us.

We hear people speak of love at first sight. I do think love at first glance is possible. I never visited any art galleries or entertained the thought of being an artist until Christmas 1969. On the eve of Christmas I made my first visit to an art gallery. I don't remember ever sticking my head through the door of a gallery. I mopped in and spent a couple of hours just gawking at the paintings. Before I left I had fallen in love with the idea of being an artist. I can say with all truthfulness that moment my life dramatically changed. This was my Epiphany. Perhaps if I were a New Age kind of guy I'd say Awakening. That day I fell deeply in love with the idea of becoming an artist. For the next twenty-six or seven years I was as faithful as geese going south in the winter to my profession. Even a destroyed right shoulder didn't slow me down. I learned to paint with my left hand.

When I saw Carolyn Prober was fighting to re-build Art Calendar I offered to write some articles. I saw her struggling to get her magazine on its feet after “B. D.” made shambles of a great publication. She sold the magazine to B. D. who in turn destroyed what Carolyn spent blood, sweat and tears building. To me she was a damsel in distress so I came riding in on my white horse announcing, “I'm here to help.” I don't think at the time I phoned her she realized how successful I was. I suspect she saw me as a kook wanting my name in print. I now count her among my closest friends and know its mutual. I'm currently working on an article called, Sacrifice. For me to give up my painting time is a sacrifice. It's my toll fee for having such an easy time reaching the apex of my career so fast and easy.

Art Calendar readers began to flood me with emails wanting to know how I directed Senkarik up the ladder of success in such a brief time. They made me realize I couldn't keep answering three page emails. I was spending several hours each morning answering questions. Total strangers were contacting me on a weekly basis asking how to promote their art career. I wrote letter after letter, email on top of email and finally gave in and decided to write a book. I kept insisting I was not a writer but painter. My articles fooled artist into thinking I was a writer and you pushed me over the Rubicon. Not long after the first book I realized one was not enough so I wrote four more books. I'm currently working on book six.

My favorite Apostle is Paul. He said it best: “Now there abides, faith, hope and love but the greatest of these is love.” Nothing excels love. We of the Christian faith believe God so loved the world He sent His own son to die and atone our sins. I'm confident those of you who believe in another god can give me examples of overpowering love. Love is universal. Love is also one of those words we all know the meaning but find it almost impossible to describe. I don't want to be too presumptuous but I'll make an attempt. I have found delineating love is like explaining what is high or what is low.

Too many marry just because he seems like a nice guy, has a good job and comes from a great family. On the flip side she has a great figure, cooks better than mama or laughs at your not so funny jokes. All too many times we mistake fondness for love. We equate being comfortable as a sign of love. We get “the hots” for a person and mistake this emotion for love. Love has to come from deep inside and grab our heartstrings with a vice grip. Much like a snapping turtle. The bite is so strong the turtle will pull his head off rather than release his hold. When I speak of love this is what I'm talking about. Not just some infatuation but a deep abiding passion almost too complex to explain.

Our Taos gallery owner started dating a local man. I remember asking her, “Does he have a car?” Then adding, “If yes, will it start?” Taos is one of the oldest towns in the United States but it also has it's share of would be sixties flower children. They think they are back in Haight-Ashbury forty years ago, long hair, un-bathed and mini skirts. The smell of marijuana permeates the air as you walk down the cobblestone streets. If our gallery owner marries in Taos it will be for love or sympathy certainly not because some rich dude dashes in with a truckload of money. With that said a lot of rich and famous people own homes there. Julia Roberts, Donald Rumsfield, the Wriggly heir and a host of others.

When I started to describe love I found the task much more difficult than I imagined. It's like trying to describe green to a sightless person. The dictionary says, “LOVE is s deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person (occupation) such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.”

Synonyms for LOVE: affection, devotion, adoration, fondness and infatuation.
These denote feelings of warm personal attachment or strong attraction to another person, place, possession or profession. Perhaps if I single out each word and give a brief description I can better explain what I'm striving for.

• Love is the most intense emotion: falling in love, marrying for love, making art for love, for the love of liberty. Love is the zenith of our emotions.
• Affection is a less ardent and more unvarying feeling: parental affection, affection for a pet, affection for chocolate, affection for a friend.
• Devotion is earnest, affectionate dedication implying selflessness: teachers admired for their devotion to children, devotion to one political party or church, working in the Peace Corp.
• Fondness is strong liking or affection: a fondness for small animals, fondness for old classmates, and fondness for movies.
• Infatuation is foolish or extravagant attraction, often of short duration: lovers blinded to their differences come together by their mutual infatuation, infatuated with the process of making art. All too many artists find an infatuation with art. When the luster fades so does their passion. I have seen many start out in a blaze only to fade when the first rain appears.
• Adoration a deep profound feeling and admiration, an adoration for the young people in the military, adoration for a teacher, adoration for a youth leader, adoration of a great artist.

The Greek language has three words to describe our one English word love. Agape, which is God like love. Eros deals with sexual love (concupiscence). Philo is brotherly love. That is why Philadelphia is called the city of brotherly love. As artist we need to reach a divine level in our love for making art. I equate making art with spiritual meditation. I'm not saying the love for art should be on the level of worshiping of your God. It does need to reach a spiritual plateau.

I want to dispense with the etymology lesson on love and get into the guts of my message. I will for the sake of space assume you are bright enough to know what I mean by the word love. For an artist to be remotely successful we cannot just be infatuated, attached, fond or devoted, we must be totally, heads over heels in love with making art. We must love the process. We must love the challenge of a fresh batch of clay or blank canvas. We must love the reach for excellence. We must love the daunting process of earning a living in such a competitive field. We must fall in love with being called an artist. I can think of no higher calling than the privilege of being called an artist. In my case I can now add author. I can say without hesitation I love writing. Nothing is more gratifying than opening a blank page and wait with anticipation to see what unfolds. My mind directs my fingers and I sit back and marvel at what appears as if by magic on the page facing me.

I think I've been a writer all of my life. Deep in my heart was a little man begging to write. My reluctance to try was based on my poor background in English grammar. I was sixty-four before I ever attempted to write. Looking back I can see how foolish my denial was. I didn't write because I'm a poor speller and don't have a clue about punctuation. I write fragmented sentences and at times destroy the Kings' English. Nevertheless I have wisdom to dispense and the only way I can is to write. The strange thing is I never doubted I would be very successful in art and I had a lot less training than being an author. I had zero training in art. At lease I could read and write simple words when I started my writing career. I have not a clue why I could have so much confidence about earning a living making and selling art and was such a sniveling coward where writing was concerned.

When Mikki and I moved from our dream house in Carmel perched on the banks of the Pacific Ocean to Longboat Key the love for writing pushed through the crust. The second day on the road I asked her, “Honey would you allow me to dictate a novel to you?”

Without an acknowledgment she pulled out a legal pad and pen and sorta snarled, “It's about time.” I dictated daily on the trip and when we got to Longboat Key, FL, that snotty little island I began getting up at 4AM so I could write before my painting day started. I wrote Midnight Road on legal pads using a regular 2H pencil. My thoughts were if James Fenimore Cooper could write The Last of the Mochicans in longhand why not me? I paid a friend to transcribe my chicken scratches.

For me there is no such thing as writers block, or painters block. I could never of a block to my telling Mikki how much I admire and love her. Morning, noon or night I can always express my feeling to the love of my life. Making art is the same as being in love with another person. If you truly love your mate you never have a lovers block. I am convinced most who experience “artistic blocks” are those who have never fallen in love with their profession. I can be burning up with fever and still tell Mikki I love her. If I have fever I still write and paint. If I'm tired I have no problem telling my wife I love her. The same goes for writing and painting. When the cancer was so painful it was almost impossible to sit I still reminded my wife of how much she meant to me. I wiggled around in my chair until I could find comfortable position and answer emails and write articles. I had lost the use of my legs so I propped up on a stool and painted.

At one time there was a gallery in Las Vegas called Art Affair. I always questioned the name. I think of an affair as a short term, hotter than a Saturday night special relationship. For a few months things go swimmingly and both parties have difficulty keeping their hands off each other. Then the affair begins to fade and one of them finds someone else to be in an affair with. As you know I receive a jillion emails from artists all over the globe. Every now and then I get an email from an artist in love with art. What a joy. My cup runs over as I read their love letter. All too many times the emails I receive are having an art affair.

Without strings a kite cannot fly. Without love for our profession we will be like a string-less kite. When we married I told Mikki, “Honey, you hold the kite and I'll run with the string.” When I started in art I had to hold the kite and run with my own string. You who have someone to run with the string are double blessed. If your love for art is strong enough you can get your kite in the air all by yourself. I will admit it's easier if you have someone holding the kite and you running with the string. When my boys were small they became fascinated with kites. Stores were not filled with flying birds, dragons, boxes and a sundry of styles like they are today. I built them a large kite using brown wrapping paper and Elmer's glue. My oldest son got the idea he would like to fly the kite a mile in the sky. One mile is 5,280 feet. Our first attempt the string was too weak, breaking and the kite zoomed away never to be seen again.

I made them a second much larger and stronger kite and purchased fishing cord strong enough to pull in a ninety-pound tuna. I attached the string to a short broom handle and the first summer day with a good breeze my boys and were off to the football field to experiment. When the kite exceeded one mile the pull lifted my ten-year-old son off the ground. He was forced to release his grip or be carried away. Looking back I should have used super glue on the handle. (Just kidding Damon).

When you work in a field you love you can see your kite fly high enough to pull you off the ground. Love is a powerful force. Most of us don't realize the power of love. My boy's love for flying a kite reminds me of another story. We decided to treat our Angel Ann to the Albuquerque Balloon Fest a few years ago. Angel Ann is the lady who forwards our mail when we travel. We have used her business address to receive our mail for seventeen years.

When I called the balloon company I asked the owner, “If you were sending your child up what pilot would you use?”

She replied without hesitation, “Tony. He is the best we have. Tony and his twin brother have been ballooning since they were small children.

True to her word Tony was exceptional. We lifted off with 800 other balloons at the crack of dawn. A sight impossible to describe. We flew higher than anyone and then got so close enough to the ground for me to pick a leaf off a tree. When it was time to land we had gone too far. I will admit I slipped Tony a $100 bill in his pocket and asked him to do some special things for Ann. We had two choices. Land in a forbidden golf course or the Albuquerque Airport. Since balloons and airplanes don't mix very well Tony decided to land on a sand trap not much larger than the balloon basket. To our amazement he hit the spot dead center. I'm not sure a helicopter could have been more accurate. Our balloon chasers reached us and gave us a ride back to our SUV. On the return trip Tony's dad told us an interesting story. When Tony and his twin brothers reached ten they started bumming free rides with people ballooning in the wind box over the city. Albuquerque has an air box where at one level the wind blows south, go up a few hundred feet and it blows north. Perfect for balloon lovers. On any given weekend when the weather turns cool you can see fifty balloons in the air.

The twins decided to make their own hot air balloon when they were eleven. Using an inflated garbage bag with aluminum foil on one side to attract the sun. For heat they used Sterno Gel can's in a make shift basket. Then they wrote they names and address on the balloon and sent it skyward. They hoped to fly across the city…the flight exceeded their expectation. It landed a couple thousand miles away in Marion Ohio on a farmer's fresh plowed field.

Whiteism: Love always exceeds our expectations.

The farmer turned their balloon over the Federal Aviation Association. Two weeks latter the Feds knocked on the twins door ready to arrest them for failing to file a flight plan. You can only imagine how shocked the Federal Agents were when two small lads confessed to the crime. Instead of arresting the inventive pair one agent called the local television station and then their fame exploded like a Maui sunset across the country.

Art careers are much like the twins launching a balloon. When we fall in love with what we are doing the venture seems to grow wings fly. I remember a friend telling me he would do something when pigs got wings. I purchased a wind vane pig with wings and FedExed it to him. I wrote a note saying, “Now you have no excuse.” He accepted the challenge and excelled to heights he never dreamed were possible.

Love can propel you into the heavens. Let go and give love a chance. If you are discourage, ill, or sad then allow yourself to fall in love with art. I promise you will be lifted out of your despondency, poverty and lack of enthusiasm and propelled among the stars. Let go of your fears and grab love with both hands. With love you cannot fail. What's Love got to do with IT? Everything!!!

Want more information on Getting There then read my five art marketing books.