Bringing Joy to the People through Painting Animals: Patrick LaMontagne
Could you give us your background?
I had a late start to the art game. While I always doodled and drew for fun, usually when I was supposed to be paying attention in class, I never entertained the notion of art school. And I didn’t consider the possibility of an art career until my early 30s.
In 1998, while living in Banff, Alberta, Canada, the local weekly newspaper advertised for an editorial cartoonist. I had to draw a cartoon on local news or events each week for about $30. Working at a hotel at the time, this was a fun side gig for beer money.
I began to draw my cartoons digitally in the late 90s with Photoshop and one of the first models of Wacom tablet, so I was a very early adopter of the medium. Unfortunately, people assumed that if you created anything on a computer, then the computer was doing all the work.
After three years with that first newspaper, about the same time my wife and I bought a home down the road in Canmore, a new local publication began, and they asked me to be their cartoonist. My new editor suggested I nationally syndicate, which means I draw five to seven cartoons a week, send them out to other papers across Canada, and they pay for what they run.
Soon I drew custom caricatures for hire and celebrity caricatures for fun. After that, I was hired for Flash animation, graphic design, illustration and other creative outlets in which I dabbled.
By 2006, working at a physiotherapist’s office in Canmore, I was doing well enough with the side gig to take the leap and become a full-time artist. I was 34 years old, and I’ve been a self-employed artist ever since.
I see that you paint caricatures of animals. What led you to pursue this artistic niche?
In the fall of 2009, I was bored with my own work and was looking for something new. I live in the Canadian Rockies, where wildlife is a big draw for visitors from around the world, so I decided to try to paint some animals. My first piece was a caricature-looking grizzly bear. I don’t remember if I was trying to make it look that way or if it happened because of my previous caricature and cartoon work. Either way, it was well-received by followers and members of an online art community to which I belonged.
So I kept drawing them.
Over the next few years, my work sold in local galleries; I signed a couple of licensing contracts and won some awards. Because I loved this work so much, and still do, I’ve now painted more than 100 pieces. Many of my pieces are internationally licensed on several products and items, and my business continues to grow.
What emotions would you like people who experience your art to feel?
They make many people smile and laugh. That’s enough for me. If I can make people happy for even a little while, that’s a worthwhile contribution.
What is the best/worst thing about being an artist?
The worst part is that it is a constant struggle to be relevant, connect with buyers, and balance the creative work with the administrative duties and the behind-the-scenes required of any business owner. Of course, it’s often a struggle to make a living from art. Financial uncertainty is something that never goes away. Even when I have a good year, I can’t relax because the next could be worse. When you get cocky and overconfident, the ground disappears beneath your feet.
Much of a creative career is dependent on luck and circumstance, both of which are beyond one person’s control. You can work all hours of the day, every day, for years on end and see no appreciable success, despite your best efforts. What’s trendy one year might be trash the next, and anyone who says they know in advance is lying.
For example, I had significant momentum with new ventures in 2019. Then the pandemic hit, and suddenly my income dropped to what it was ten years ago. While I survived it, and 2022 looks good, how does one anticipate something like that?
There’s also the uncertainty of the whole profession and finding your own answers despite the constant hype from so-called experts telling you that you must do things their way. Of course, constructive advice is always worth listening to, but it’s not often helpful.
When I left Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, it was against the commonly held belief that social media was the only way to succeed as an artist. But more artists now realize that with decreased organic reach and mystery algorithmic agendas, likes and shares don’t translate to income. Our art is often just content for somebody else, making money for the platforms but not for ourselves.
While I have opened another account to be more up-to-date on NFT culture, I’m still not committed to staying on Twitter, especially regarding the recent platform ownership change.
But the best part about being an artist is making those types of decisions and having a self-determined career. If they’re the wrong decisions, so be it, but freedom of choice is a plus in my art career. For example, I don’t answer to the owner of a company who might have wildly different goals and perspectives. I still serve my customers and respond to license holders, but ultimately, I can say no to anything contrary to my values.
I love working at home in my office with no commute. I get up at 5 AM every day and have for many years, working at my desk by six, but it’s my choice to do so. I’m not punching somebody else’s clock.
I take very little time off, often working seven days a week, but without complaint. This is because I enjoy my work, and it’s true that you will always work harder for yourself than you will for somebody else.
But when I take time off, rent a cabin with some friends, or take a day off in the middle of the week to explore with my camera, I don’t ask anyone’s permission. That’s priceless.
In your opinion, how do you see NFTs changing how art is made?
Any new platform for art and commerce, which appeals to a new generation that values different mediums and forms of expression, is a great thing. Moreover, it provides one more possibility for artists to make a living.
But after only a little bit of time exploring NFTs and their possibilities, it’s clear that the lion’s share of the general interest is less about art and more about making a quick buck. There are far too many massive Bored Ape wanna-be AI-generated collections flooding the market. It’s the fast food of crypto, with not much nutritional value. It’s challenging for quality art to get noticed, but one could say it always has been. There’s a reason for the term ‘starving artist.’
On the surface, NFTs might appear to be a get-rich-quick attempt for a lot of poor-quality art. It’s the reason I have avoided the mass markets like OpenSea and others. It’s a free for all with no quality control, lousy with scams and theft.
PRISM’s appeal for my foray into this world is that it’s a curated professional platform that showcases artwork in the best possible light.
NFTs are very much in their infancy. As more artists explore the potential for utility offerings to accompany the art and display the work in virtual spaces, there is plenty of room for growth and discovery. Once the initial unchecked frenetic hype settles down, once everybody stops to take a breath, a more reasoned, level-headed system of commerce, trade and art appreciation might flourish.
After all, digital art was once seen by the traditional art world as a fad, that it all looked the same, and computer filters were manufacturing the work. Today, digital artists create some of the most beautiful work, contributing to all aspects of our entertainment and artistic culture.
NFTs might be the next evolution, and if they’re not, they might become something even better.
You can find Patrick’s website here.
You can find and buy his NFTs through his PRISM NFT Marketplace (Prismnfts.com) profile, which can be found here.
