An old art professor of mine back in undergraduate school once told me, “A painting must have a sense of wall power!” To explain what was meant, he would unfold the plausible scene that might occur in a gallery when visitors arrive to view a painting. He’d say, “If your painting is hanging on the far wall of a gallery or museum, a viewer, upon first entering the room, should be able to see the painting and feel its presence.” Such was the essence of his challenge: How to infuse my own paintings with enough power that they could elicit a response in the viewer even when the viewer happens to be standing yards away across the room. The lesson my professor taught begs a fundamental question important perhaps for all artists to consider: How do we infuse our work with a sense of Presence?

There is no connection more profound—perhaps in all human experience—than being an identical twin. Consider this premise: at least for a few days, before the egg in a mother’s belly splits into two, the eventual siblings are, in fact, the same person. A beautiful if somewhat creepy notion to accept, especially should you happen to be a twin yourself. Given the remote likelihood of twinning—approximately 3 for every 1,000 births—the challenge remains for the majority of us to establish relationships similar in depth to that of being a twin. This begs the question, How can we each find connection in others who are not related to us? How can twinship become available to anyone choosing to seek it, whether such connection is sought in one’s community, in a neighbor, in a spouse, or in a friend?

There is risk involved whenever we immerse ourselves in the creative process, since what we are likely to find—if we stay with it long enough—is ourselves. What we discover probably borders somewhere on the rapturous and the hazardous. Yet in spite of it all, there is a way to create ourselves whole; there is a way to come out the other end of the process intact.

How is it that a country such as ours, built on the pioneering spirit and on its rugged individualism, envied world-over for its innovation and ingenuity, continues to spurn the fine artist to the extent it does

My students will often hear me say, “A painting is not yet done until you share it with somebody.”