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John Gawne: Portrait of David Bald Eagle and an incredible story John
Gawne One on One: An Interview with the Artist Confident but unassuming, Gawne would argue that his name doesn’t belong on the same roster with such local luminaries. But a number of critics and art collectors disagree. They say Gawne is making a major breakthrough – not only in terms of wider public recognition, but in the edgy and unique intensity of his art. After what he calls a “career correction” in the 1990’s, Gawne was a relative late-bloomer in the world of Native American-themed art. But his early drawings quickly gained attention. Today his canvases are featured in some of the most prestigious galleries and art shows in the genre. Gawne frequently travels West for new source material and inspiration, but his studio remains here in Oak Park: a crowded, converted garage nestled behind the family homestead. Recently we talked with John Gawne about his art, his stylistic influences … and what led him West. September
7, 2006 JG: That’s right. (Smiling) I started out as an accountant. MP: Where did you go to school? JG: Notre Dame. Looking back, of course, it turned out I was in the wrong major. But the experience I had there … all the life friends I made … is still a touchstone. MP: What was your first job? JG: I worked at several different CPA-type firms in Chicago … eventually I was a floor trader at the Mercantile Exchange for quite a few years. I traded S & P options. That was a lifetime ago. MP: I can’t resist mentioning that Gauguin was also a stock broker. JG: (Laughs.) And that’s where any similarity ends. For one thing, Gauguin left his wife and kids and went off the deep end. I’m pretty much devoted to family. MP: But you must have been good at options trading. JG:
Yes … and there wasn’t a single day on the floor of the exchange MP: When was your first trip out West? JG: Right after I graduated. A couple of college buddies and I drove out to Idaho and just kept going … to Seattle … Canada … back down through California and across the southwest. It was stunning … overwhelming … the landscapes, all the different people I met, the whole environment. The original idea was to take a road trip and just have some fun … but I couldn’t get it out of my system. When we got back I started studying all the various Native American cultures, their histories … and doing a few sketches. Artistically, the need was there. I just didn’t know how to express it. MP: But meanwhile you had to make a living …. JG: I had to pay off all those college loans. To be honest, I hated accounting so much … there was a stretch of several years where my bosses were lucky if they got two weeks notice. One time I walked in and quit on a Friday morning, and I was on the road out West the same night. It was all I lived for. MP: So what turned you from a compulsive tourist into a Western artist? JG: A handful of drawings … and a promise from my wife. I started going to workshops with the big-name Western artists. A great man named Joe Beeler (co-founder of the Cowboy Artists of America) was running one. He was a folksy, lovable guy. I’d done a pencil sketch of him … and finally I worked up the nerve to show him. He made a big fuss over it. A lot of people did. Everyone I met was so passionate and encouraging. They said, hey, you’ve got something here. So … part time … I kept at it. The first two or three pieces I sold were drawings. Then there was an art show in Prescott, Arizona … and I won an award. Finally my wife made a proposal. She told to me set up a studio in the garage, try the art full time … and she’d support us for a while. That was roughly 10 years ago. MP: And you take care of the kids too? JG: (Laughs.) That was part of the deal – the best deal I ever made. MP: How long before you started working in oils? JG: I just plunged into it 24/7. Workshops and seminars. Even managed to get myself invited to Terpning’s class in Texas. From a technical standpoint, there was so much I didn’t know. MP: But you were a quick study – some of your pictures were being accepted into galleries within a year, is that right? JG: I was very fortunate, yes. The positive reinforcement was there almost from the beginning. MP: So you’re not entirely self-taught? JG: Nobody is. I know artists who brag that they’re self-taught. But the truth is, we are all learning, all the time … from Nature, from the masters. You could spend your whole life just discovering new things about light. MP: Speaking of masters, which artists do you admire? Not only Western-theme artists, but generally? JG: Sorolla is one … pure genius. And a Russian-born painter, Nikolai Fechin. Fechin eventually came to the States and did quite a few Western-style pieces. Another name I should mention is Richard Schmid … he’s a big influence. If you asked me to recommend only one book about art, it would be his Alla Prima. Schmid talks about finding that sacred place, a “wordless center” in your art, something you can’t explain in nouns and verbs. That’s how I feel about my own work. MP: And wasn’t Schmid also born in Chicago? JG: Right. There must be something in the water here. MP: Collectors are always curious about your source material. How do you work? Who are your models? JG: Every year I take three or four trips out West. In fact, I just came back from what they call an “artist’s ride” in South Dakota … near the Badlands. These are special events … by invitation only … just a few dozen professional artists and photographers. Various members of the Sioux tribes and other Native Americans are models and re-enactors. MP: Isn’t there also an event at the Little Big Horn? JG: Yes. I have a friend … a Crow … whose family owns some of the land in Montana where the Custer battle took place. Every year they stage a re-enactment and I try to get out there as often as I can. These are not Wild West shows – nothing like that. They’re a means for Native peoples to demonstrate and to keep alive the “old ways” … and for us, as artists, to document them. It’s a tremendous privilege to take part. MP: It sounds like a trip back in time. JG: Well, it’s not 1876, but every aspect, every detail is absolutely authentic. We usually only have three or four days for sittings and reenactments … so when I can’t do sketches from life I take photographs … just for reference. Nobody can paint a galloping horse from life. (Laughs) MP: What kind of camera do you use? JG: A very high-end digital. That way I can take as many shots as I need until I get exactly what I’m looking for. MP: And what are you looking for? JG: A certain expression, a detail … I know it when I see it. Art isn’t about looking at what’s in front of you … it’s about what you see. MP: You’ve been described as a “rising star” in Western art. How does it feel to be The Next Big Thing? JG: Don’t even go there … I can’t think about that. I consider myself blessed just to be almost making a living. There’s a real reverence in this work. It’s not the same as painting corporate portraits to hang in a lobby somewhere. MP: Then how would you define success? JG: Making an emotional connection. I’ve had people go to the trouble to track down my number and phone me here in the studio … that’s an incredible feeling. One day last year a woman, a serious collector, walked in to the Legacy, a gallery in Wyoming. She bought one of my pictures … then the very next day she came back and bought another one, for her daughter. They told me they’d never seen anything like that. That’s what I mean about making a personal, emotional connection. MP: You don’t get that from trading S & P options. JG: Never in a million years. Read
about Gawne's process and the incredible history of David Bald Eagle. |