There weren’t many (read any) art galleries where I grew up. The irony to that fact was that I grew up painting, not pastoral scenes or portraits, but automobiles. And though there is a good amount of skill required in rebuilding wrecked cars and trucks and returning them to a “new” condition, I never considered it to be artwork as such. Airbrushing is a different thing entirely, and can be considered art, but that talent was never one that I possessed. Still, art fascinates me because it begins with a blank canvas, a field of pristine whiteness, and somehow the artists breathe passion and soul onto it until it becomes a living thing. I had of course seen pictures of art represented in textbooks or on television, but though often beautiful, I always felt there was something missing. I always wondered about this as I looked at the amazing book covers painted by my old masters Boris Vallejo, Frank Frazetta, and John Jusko to name a few (yes, I was and still am a huge fantasy nerd) and tried to discern what was missing. After quite some time I figured it out, and the solution was frustrating. The problem was that I couldn’t see the brushstrokes, and how they “built” their art. And I had to realize that I probably never would, unfortunately. That’s one of the reasons why it was so wonderful meeting my friends at Jewel Art Gallery in Ashland, Ky. Bri and Elias Reynolds are the owners of the gallery that showcases local artists and are the manager and head artist respectively. I recently was fortunate enough to sit down and speak with Bri Reynolds about everything from art appreciation to different art mediums such as painting and sculpture. She is a wonderful young woman who appreciates art on so many levels and is always ready to answer questions. She let me see the brush strokes, the building blocks of art, from the inside out. Some days you also get really lucky and can talk to the local artists who made those bright swaths of color in person. The walls of the gallery are lined with so many different interpretations and themes. I saw a classic western painting of a cowboy with his horse and dog just feet from an amazing interpretation of African cultural history. “That’s one of the things we wanted to do,” Bri said as I looked around the gallery. “I tried to keep it very diverse so that somebody could come in and be a fan of that specific artist. So, we are creating collectors of people’s works,” she told me. “So, when they come in, they could ask if Gail has any new pieces this week. Or does Jerry have any new pieces,” she said. “For example, we have one artist that only paints endangered wildlife. She used to be a biologist until she got Lyme Disease.” Now the scientist turned artist serves her passion by painting it, which is a story unto itself. Honestly, that’s one I’d love to write. “We have all these different people who create different things,” she said. “And we wanted them to be identifiable for what they are best at, and that way they can create a following within our art gallery.” Different things . . . brushstrokes, sculptures, and wood carvings from dozens of different artists doing all the things that have fascinated me for decades. I don’t know why you might go to an art gallery (honestly, any reason is a good reason), but the opportunity to learn the how and why from people who do things I can’t do seems amazing to me. Am I jealous? No – well, maybe just a little – but I can and do appreciate things I personally don’t do. And at Jewel Art Gallery I can appreciate those things up close and personal, and personally ask the artist not only about the brush strokes, but why they decided to pick up a brush in the first place. That possibility is nothing short of wonderful. It also borders upon the surreal as well. I have used a chainsaw a lot in my life, cleaning hillsides and cutting firewood for instance. But there is an unbelievably detailed lions head at the gallery carved with a chain...
