Lessons from an Old Painter
Most of the people we film know that their audience is intentionally limited to the people they choose. There’s a certain comfort in opening up when you control who sees your story. It’s a bit like the Wild West days of social media — remember those? When you could post unfiltered content online because your kids were little, busy playing with their GameCube and dolls. You’d post raucous stuff on MySpace, troll your coworkers with spicy jokes on Facebook, and share drunken group pics on Flickr without a care in the world. You were living in the moment, carpe-ing the diem, with no concern for the future because, well, you were in your early thirties and…
Wait, where was I?
Oh, right. Eventually, we all learned that the internet is forever, and don’t we wish we had shown some modesty and restraint back in the day? Fortunately, most of our film subjects can be themselves, sharing their stories in a way that’s more private and controlled, unlike the wild, open internet.
But this week, I had the joy of filming a spry 89-year-old gentleman who began painting portraits at 75. His life story is extraordinary — he grew up as an outcast in a Florida swamp, and went on to have successful careers in the Air Force, drafting, marketing, billboards, logos, and sign-making. And I am happy to say that his film will be presented to the world instead of just his loved ones. While we didn’t get as granular as we might for a more private audience, the intimacy and depth we strive for were still very much present.
As always, I learned a lot. I learned that old dogs can indeed learn new tricks — and those tricks can become foundational components of their greater story. You can tackle new things late in life and become a master of them. In fact, after watching this fella paint, I feel compelled to capitalize that. You can tackle new things late in life and become a Master of them.
I learned that you can have celebrity mentors, even if you’ve never met them. He loved Norman Rockwell and collected Saturday Evening Posts as a kid, never knowing how this affinity would turn into inspiration and objects of aspiration decades later. Interestingly, I also love Rockwell and keep a coffee table book of his work always at the ready. My other coffee table book is my personal celebrity mentor.
I learned that the better you become at a craft, the more you realize how much there is still to learn. At the same time, the urge to share, teach, influence, and guide others becomes stronger. As we filmed his current project, the artist reflected on how his lack of encouragement as a boy set him back decades. Growing up in rural 1940s Florida wasn’t exactly fertile soil for a young artist to flourish. Back then, left-handed kids were forced to write right-handed, and boys who didn’t want to play football were handed a 4” brush to paint the fence instead of a canvas.
If a 17-year-old in those days felt the need to escape an untenable environment — like this man did — they joined the service. Idolizing the soldiers and sailors who won World War II, and with Korea flaring up, he enlisted in the shiny new Air Force. Marching to the beat of his own drummer wasn’t easy, but he did it. He got married, started a family, served honorably for a decade, and then got about his career. As an artist, he pursued his craft, mostly in private. What started as a hobby — akin to whittling or playing golf — began to take shape. Drafting evolved into marketing, which evolved into billboards and signs. Before he knew it, he was 75, and finally, his passion was praised. His art was appreciated, and he became determined to ensure that other young people are encouraged to embrace their abilities.
I learned a lot more, too. But the best part is that you’ll be able to learn along with me. I’ll make sure to post the film here after it’s edited and approved. I was deeply moved by his story. Like him, I work in the art world — he paints portraits, and I make movies. Like him, I am a veteran who served in relative peacetime. He served in the Air Force between Korea and Vietnam, and I served in the Army between the Gulf War and 9/11. And like him, I’ve always felt like an oddball.
