“What is the point of standing out here in the heat all day rubbing dirt and oil on this piece of wood?” I have spent the previous 30 days in the middle of the scorching Tuscan countryside, completely devoid of human contact, and this question kept scissor kicking me in the temples. I mean, I could be an actuary or a budget analyst wearing fancy watches and rolling up to Whole Foods in my purple Bugatti, right? Not to mention, I wouldn’t have to worry about unintentionally weeding out the prospects in my love life when my career choice came up. It’s obviously not for the money. As for the fame, forget it. If that were the goal, I would have better luck dancing on TikTok (I have killer moves). So why in the world is painting such a magnetic force that keeps pulling me back? Here is my attempt at an answer.

  The first reason that comes to mind is a nauseatingly overused cliche. “I paint to inspire people.” Blah blah blah. Inspire people to do what? If people want to get inspired they will go read something by Tony Robbins. Thinking back, I didn’t believe that I had ever made a painting that “inspired” someone, per se, but perhaps I had seen a painting that had that effect on me? Surprisingly, a few paintings came to mind. 

  The first painting that I thought of was a portrait of an old man painted by Rembrandt which I saw in the Louvre (https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rembrandt_-_Portrait_of_an_old_man_with_a_beard_-_INV_1748.jpg). His sad and thoughtful gaze was so captivating that it became as if I was looking at an older version of myself — like I was looking back at my life and the choices I had made or maybe the opportunities I had failed to take advantage of. It was as if the painting was telling me to be unafraid of the risks and worries I had, the ones that were stopping me from pursuing the things that I most wanted to do, be, or have. 

  The second painting I thought of was a painting by Michael Klein of a dead, blue bird in a small uncovered grave (can be seen in his gallery, https://www.michaelkleinpaintings.com/paintings). There are some paintings that are able to capture the whole world in a single moment, and for me this is one of them. The classic “Vanitas” paintings don’t do much for me — I’ve become rather desensitized to skulls and hourglasses, but this painting grasped at something more. It was a reminder that everyone exits this life alone and with nothing. Perhaps a daunting thing to consider, but what would I do differently if I had that on the front of my mind?

  Then there are paintings that might inspire a person simply because the emotions expressed in the piece so perfectly correlate to the emotions one feels in a particular chapter of life. In a budding romance, for example, Frederic Leighton’s “The Painter’s Honeymoon” might resonate (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Painter%27s_Honeymoon). I bring up this example because it had this effect on me; however there are many paintings that might perfectly capture the way a person is feeling in a given moment, and their effect would be individual to each viewer.

  So maybe I do aim to inspire people eventually with my work, but from my  experience the paintings that can deliver on this goal are extremely rare. So what about the paintings that don’t double as “self-help” or mindset coaches? What about the paintings that we love simply because they are beautiful and nothing more? I have come to the joyful realization that these paintings are just as important, if not more, and their power derives from the very fact that they were not made to serve a purpose beyond beauty.

  In the introduction to The Picture of Dorian Grey, Oscar Wilde famously says, “All art is quite useless.” His words, however, were not meant to condemn art, but rather as the highest of compliments. Uselessness is not to be confused with worthlessness. 

  Take classical architecture for example. A classical building would include “useless” details such as elaborate moulding or decorative columns. The moulding does not exist to “do” anything, and therefore, it pleases us because it is a reminder that humans are made for more than the trivial, day-to-day drudgery. Modern buildings made with the sole aim of being functional and lacking these considerations of beauty are the kinds of structures that suck out our souls and beat them to death with a pillowcase full of soap bars.

We are not animals only here to fulfill our menial tasks before we die, but we are part of something in the universe that calls us to a deeper existence. Therefore, paintings that simply exist to be beautiful are objects that help us to transcend the mundane and elevate our human experience. It has been said that “making an aesthetic decision is like stumbling towards the Kingdom of God.” I believe this to be true. An artist trying to find the beauty within himself is like an artist searching for those divine and transcendent fingerprints within his soul. He is searching for the spark of humanity that calls us out of the mundanity of life into the great adventure. And this, perhaps, is the real reason why I paint.