Q+A with Curtis Wilson Cost

Learn more about Curtis Wilson Cost in a Q+A with over 15 thought-provoking questions, from the surprising way that Mr. Cost gets over creative blocks in the painting process, to the first piece of artwork he remembers painting and more.

 

What is the first work of art that you remember creating? 

In kindergarten, we had those round stools with very symmetric, notched legs. I decided to draw one, and I did it really accurately. But I drew it on the table. 

We weren't allowed to draw on the tables, of course. I didn't know that.

Although my teacher would come and clean off the tables every day, she didn't clean off mine for weeks. Instead, she told my mom, “I think this kid has something going on”. 

How would you define success as an artist? Do you feel like you have achieved success?

Rather than go the traditional route of collective art gallery membership, we opened a one-man art gallery. We’ve always done things differently, but I'm really happy with what we've accomplished.

I have amazing clientele, close friends and supporters – really wonderful, sincere people. They're bringing up my average. That’s success to me.

What can your biggest fans and collectors look for in your art? 

I paint Hawaiiana, which is the Hawaiian version of Americana. I think people who resonate with Americana have an appreciation for the inherited. I was tutored by my dad, so the tradition of the inherited is very ingrained in my art. 

People can also look for beams of light streaking across the scene or winding S-curves in roads. That’s my cup of tea.

Any hidden messages that fans can search for in your paintings?

I do have hidden phrases in a couple of the paintings. I added the title of the painting in Gathering Gold in the blades of grass. And if you look closely at A Quiet Moment, the Hawaiian translation for “a quiet moment” is also hidden in the grass. 

Those hidden messages are so camouflaged that you can’t see them in digital reproductions of the paintings. You have to look at the real, large paintings in person to see them.

How has your painting style changed over the years? 

I started out in transparent watercolor. It was a tortuous medium, but It taught me a lot. Then, I transitioned to opaque watercolor gouache, which was much more forgiving. Next, I went onto acrylic. Acrylic is amazingly fast-drying, but it’s not great for gradations.

Finally, I moved to oil painting, because I started to really dislike how fast acrylic dried. I've been doing oil pretty exclusively for about 20 years. 

So, my more recent work looks softer, with less graphic edges. Some people really like that. Some people don't. Some people prefer the crisp details of my older stuff.

If you could only use one color for the rest of your life, what would it be and why? 

Wow. That would be terrible. But I think I’d choose burnt sienna. Just pure instinct. 

I do a toning before every painting, covering the white canvas with burnt sienna. 

When I rendered my painting the Ice Cream Man with burnt sienna, I wanted to stop. I wanted to keep it right there, because I actually liked it with just the burnt sienna. 

If your art supplies could talk, what would they say about you? 

How about: “Man, this guy is cluttered. He's so disorganized. I don't know how he keeps things straight.”

My studio is super cluttered. But if [my wife] Jill cleans the space, I can't find anything anymore. Before she cleans my studio, I know exactly where it is.

What is the most ridiculous or outrageous  thing you have ever done in the name of art? 

You know how some cities give out these big, blank sculptures for artists to decorate? Years ago, for Maui, they gave us each a blank whale. 

And I painted it as a peeling banana. “A-reeling and Appealing”. Everybody was rolling their eyes.

How do you feel about the rise of AI art?

If you went to a concert and Yo-Yo Ma was being played by a robot on a cello, it's like watching a self-playing piano. The virtuosity is what you go to that concert for. 

Everyone wanted to be one of The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. Half of the appeal of the music are those characters, you know? If that was just generated as ear-worms, I just don't think there's as much appeal there. 

And I think that translates to art. When people see a piece of artwork, if they like it, they'll want to go deeper and figure out a bit about the artist. You kind of establish a relationship with somebody that you resonate with in terms of taste when you appreciate their art. If there's no person behind it, it's just gonna be like cardboard.

When and where do you prefer to paint? Do you have a particular time of day?

I usually start paintings on-location with a little thumbnail sketch. After that, I prefer to paint in the studio, because it's super controlled light. 

The studio is blacked out, except for controlled light coming over my left shoulder. Because if it's over my right shoulder, then there are shadows from my hand. 

Afternoon light or morning light changes the lighting, so my studio only has north-facing windows. That allows the light quality to stay consistently the same. 

Do you ever face creative blocks? 

That's one thing I've never had. In fact, it's the opposite. There's so much to paint. It's just overwhelming. There's so much subject matter up here [in upcountry Maui]. 

You know, I'm driving around, and I'm thinking about 15 places that we passed by that I wish I had painted in the past. Some I never got to, and they were since torn down. It makes me feel guilty, almost, that I didn't get to them. 

What is the hardest part of the act of painting for you? 

You have to suspend the negativity in your brain. I call it “the hump”, when you’re asking yourself, “Is this working?” The uncertainty can cripple you. Sometimes it takes forever to get past that self-doubt.

What’s an example of a painting that challenged you with that hump?

Makena Stroll. It was one of my first oil paintings. Makena Stroll is a silhouette of young palms against Pu'u Olai, off Makena beach, with light coming through across the road. 

The foreground came out great, and the background came out great. But maybe three quarters of the painting was silhouette. So, there was a huge intrinsic risk that it might not have enough depth by the time it was finished.

Palm trees are made up of bowing archways, like the teeth on a comb. They all bend and overlap in this kind of absolutely beautiful lattice work. 

Since this painting was mostly silhouette, I did those thousands of little individual lines in mostly the same color. It took me months. It all looked one dimensional at that point. The whole entire time, I was agonizing, “Is this going to work?”

One of the palm fronds was reaching out into the light that was coming from the morning sun. But I had to wait to paint that last frond after I painted all those others.

When I finally painted that last frond, it just went “Bam!” It was totally fulfilling after all of those months of agony. 

Do you have any sort of inner mantras or anything to get you past ‘the hump’? 

You know what I do? I put on a great audiobook. I find that if I turn up my left brain activity, and just blast it with subject matter, then I can just slip into the zone of the painting. 

It’s like slipping into a warm bath. If I can just sedate myself with some storytelling, I can paint for hours without getting in my own way. 

Are you working on any new paintings right now? 

Yes! I’m currently working on a large painting of Waikoko Beach on Kauai. 

What do you want fans of your artwork to know? 

The Curtis Wilson Cost Gallery and its grounds is my highest expression right now.

A while back, my family and I went to see Claude Monet's home and gardens, Giverny. It's where Claude Monet painted the water gardens when he was going blind from cataracts. So, the paintings are fuzzy, but absolutely beautiful. Now those paintings are in museums all around the world. 

As we walked through the gardens, I thought to myself, “This is what I want to do with the rest of my life." I want to make a place like this. A place to inspire other artists.

What do you want your impact on the world to be? 

I kind of feel like an appreciation for classic Americana or classic Hawaiiana may be coming back. I think that people feel overwhelmed with technology or constant inundation with information.

Maybe people are really kind of craving a simpler time and want to get back to it, and I hope my artwork can be a part of that. I hope I live long enough to see it.