Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Roseann Gaglio. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Roseann, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?
My current project is something most artists do; some are more disciplined than others. Through the years, I’ve read articles about people who produce a small painting every day. Some put their works online and sell them. Others use this as practice. When a friend gave me a book about painting every day, I committed to it. Just like that. After all these years of painting when I felt like it, which, was already three to four days a week. But, to actually say out loud to your friends, “I’m creating a full painting every day–not large, but complete,” is scary. Why? You know yourself well. You know you have issues with the things you don’t like to do and procrastination. You know if you can’t complete it in one day, you’ll put yourself under pressure. All the negatives and comparisons will fly to the front of your brain, and will spiral down to (sigh, yet another artist moaning) “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!”
Well, I didn’t get scared. I got busy. I gave myself lots of room, permission, self congratulations and I learned. A lot. I learned how to pull myself away from an unfinished painting, and look at what areas I need to address. I learned to work faster, or if I wanted to fuss with an area, I gave myself permission to do so. I learned that I could apply those little lessons to life: Don’t fuss. You don’t have time for perfection. Indulge in that dessert, just this once. Stay present in this moment. No regrets. Tomorrow is another painting.
Doing this one thing every day became incorporated into my life, like brushing my teeth or washing the daily dishes. I learned that maintaining this practice, I began to honor it. I learned to look forward to it, like a birthday surprise. (“What’s going on canvas today?” she giggles.)
It became meaningful in other areas of my life.
I had made some changes in recent years, including moving across the country, a few relationships that went south or became platonic, and the challenge of finding work that would balance with my art. I have not made a regular income from producing art, but I’ve made more money doing portraits and other artworks, than any other side job.
I had moved into a condo with my brother, and we shared the same life approach: we had scaled down our lives on purpose, to start from scratch and take a new path. I knew mine was producing art, so I was not interested in housing or clothing or spending hours at the beach or putting myself on dating websites. No, this was going to be different. Still, with all the manifesting, confessing to the universe, positive thinking, trying out this gallery or that art space, entering art shows and driving through Florida for something art-related, my art life just didn’t get kick-started the way I envisioned. Who knew at this age I’d be delivering pizzas? Or stocking a gourmet grocery store? Or tolerating a bully boss at a desk job? And, the countless ups and downs of the artist’s self worth and wondering, “Am I doing this right?” Not to mention the sadness in the eyes and pity in the tone of the person asking, “Did you sell any art today?” Knowing full well, I didn’t.
After a few years living like college kids, crummy furniture, beat up bathroom, 1970s carpeting, I bought a house and set up my studio in the guest bedroom/office/gallery. I live alone and my art room is my haven. Recently, I had had an exhausting, emotional day. I was mentally preparing for that glass of wine, my couch and a night of Netflix, when, I realized, I had not done my painting-a-day. Suddenly, my mind perked up and I went searching for some photo references. I would push this thing out in an hour, I told myself.
I know my life. I know where I’ve been and what it took. I’ve scaled down my needs. I’ve narrowed down who and what’s important. People measure themselves with a paycheck. It doesn’t matter what they do, as long as they get paid for it. This little thing I do every day is my paycheck. What is the one thing I can do well? I can get a likeness down on paper.
“So what?” you may say, and sometimes even I say, it sounds silly. Who cares?
But, it’s the most meaningful thing I can do.
And, when I bring that meaning to a commissioned portrait or painting, I feel more connected to the buyer.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I want to make my mark by creating something for you. As much self satisfaction one derives from creating art, the job isn’t done until the client feels something about the work created. As much as artists love and need their alone time, even when they are not doing their art, they need other people and they need an applause. I can paint/draw any subject for you, but the most satisfaction I get is when you want a portrait of someone, something or some place that you love. That is what I want to bring to the party: this work of art was created in love, for love and to be loved. This is an emotional business. It’s different from going to a dentist, getting an aching tooth pulled, saying, “Thanks, Doc” and tearing out the door. The dentist does a fine job, the client is happy, but, it’s on to whatever is next. For both of them. For an artist, the transaction endures. The artist really gives a piece of themselves. The creation brings continual satisfaction whenever the client sees it. And, if the painting gets passed to the next generation, new viewers inherit the same feeling. In this day of constant cell phone pictures, a painted portrait really has something more to say.
I’m most proud of memorial paintings. I have “given new life” to people and pets. It gives me such joy to capture an expression on a loved one that I’ve painted, knowing the client can relive moments with that loved one, who has passed.
I work with pastels, the sticks that are composed of pure pigment mixed with Kaolin or gum arabic. This medium has been used for decades, especially for drawing. If you aren’t familiar, think of the French artist, Degas. His ballerina series shows the effective use of this powerful medium. Today, pastel societies exist all over the world. Yet, some people are not familiar with pastels. And, that’s what sets me apart.
I like exploring color and mixing pastels with another medium, such as acrylic or watercolor.
I chose this medium because I was drawing and making faces with graphite pencils and grew bored. I wanted to touch my art. I wanted the hand to go directly to the medium to the paper. Think of when you were a child and you learned to finger paint! It was and is a glorious feeling. For a long time I didn’t want to create art with a paint brush because I didn’t want that separation, but, now I’m painting with multiple mediums, including wall murals and furniture, which require brushes.
I have had other full time positions. I was randomly creating art, but I didn’t focus on it until I was in my forties. Once I began taking art classes seriously, I just kept pushing. First, entering juried art shows, then finding more instructors, then flying on my own in between other jobs.
Art has been a hobby and a full time enterprise. I continue to learn from it, so I don’t see retirement any time soon. If I can paint a wall mural, a piece of furniture, a keepsake of your favorite pet, I’ll muster all I have and deliver something you’ll love.
What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?
I have an open mind for change. I don’t know if that is genetics or learned behavior. Throughout the years I found myself stuck on an idea, and somehow I get unstuck and I don’t know how or when it happens. For example, when I was a child looking at things from the Art Deco era, I hated them. Statues and radiators and designs in threes bothered me. But, over time and viewing art from other eras, I discovered I loved Art Deco. You can say, well, that’s everyone. Tastes change. Yes, for me, this is a message that tells me, I can learn. I love to learn. I love how learning changes me.
When you study and practice art, you don’t get the definitive solution, like studying math or science. One plus one is ALWAYS going to be two. The earth is always going to be composed of certain elements, all neatly organized on a chart. But, with art, you literally start with a blank canvas.
When you learn to paint or sculpt or play music, you get pieces of these arts. When you’ve learned all you can about one piece, you move on to the next. It’s like going through a door to a big room and occupying that space for as long as you want or it takes. Then, you discover, there’s another door! When you go through that, you may spend days or years in that room, and suddenly, another door appears! Each room teaches you something new about your art.
The magic of opening those doors is this: you may start out a painter, and after many rooms and doors, you find yourself an actor. Or, a writer. Or a film producer.
Or, you may stay with your first medium, but it has evolved so drastically, it doesn’t look like work from the same artist. Think of Picasso. He evolved so much that he’s assigned “periods,” such as, his Blue Period, or his Cubism Period. To see other artists evolve, knowing, this will happen to me, is rewarding and exciting.
Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.
I think non-creatives get frustrated with the chronology of the artist. Lucky is the artist who knows exactly what they want at age 3, and takes baby steps to get there. Because this is an emotional business, emotions do get in the way of progress. Being an artist, there’s much going forward, taking two steps back. There’s indecision. There’s restlessness. There’s procrastination. It’s a journey that makes sharp turns and back tracks. Or, months of inactivity. There’s the announcement that you are taking classes. Then, there’s another announcement that something was “wrong” with the instructor, so, can the class and try something else. Don’t forget the constant struggle between what you think you want to do, and the deep-rooted belief that you cannot do it.
I don’t think any artist getting that lead part in the grammar school play envisions herself acting in community theater. No, she goes straight to the movie screen and onto the Oscars. A budding painter envisions her work hanging in the Louvre, not in some Bohemian cafe. Every child musician hears themselves playing Carnegie Hall. Yes, these dreams are big. Therefore, so is the fear, the doubt, the (must we, again?) “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!
Few artists, dancers, writers, film makers, photographers, get a paycheck for their creations, right out of school or apprenticeship. Some artists have their lives paid for by spouse, parents, benefactors. But, not most.
So, there is the ever-present white elephant in the room when discussing your soul scorching passion with a non-creative: Yes, but, do you make any money from it?
I always say I came out of the womb dancing. I was hooked on TV and in the 1960s, there were plenty of variety shows that highlighted music and dancing. As a child I wanted nothing more than dance lessons. And, even though I was off in a corner drawing or making art or writing poems, I still envisioned myself as a dancer. One day it will happen.
When adults asked me, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?” imagine how surprised they must have been when I announced I was going to be a dancer. They and everybody but me knew there was not going to be lessons, therefore, no dancing.
From the time I admitted to myself I wouldn’t become a dancer, I simply could not see myself as anything else. These were still the days when jobs were perceived as gender-based, limiting to women. No, I was not meant to be a nurse, and teaching kids was equally out.
So, many years I took on a variety of jobs. Some jobs removed me so far from art, that I became heartsick and didn’t know why. It took me years to admit that I am an artist. I just hadn’t found my art yet. Though I tried theater, writing, ballet and belly dancing, I have stuck with painting the longest.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.roseannfineartist.com
- Instagram: @roseanngagliofineartist
- Facebook: @roseanngagliofineartist