San Francisco based Artist & CEO

There’s nothing at all practical about making a career choice to become a full time painter.  But if expressing yourself is what you’re meant to do, then any other choice is absolutely stifling.  I know because I didn’t paint or draw anything for over seven years.

I majored in industrial design in art school, not painting. Painting just wasn’t practical.
When I got married and moved to the dull suburbs of Sacramento, there were no design jobs. So I got a job at a large computer corporation to learn new practical skills to help support the mortgage on a cookie cutter home of the American dream.  And soon after, I divorced.

I stayed on the practical path and left my creativity behind.  Then I spiraled into deepening depression and anxiety that no treatment could budge.

So I picked up my paintbrush again, in private.  All out of therapeutic options, I thought that painting could be a practical tool to focus my ever-anxious mind.  And it became a useful treatment.

Then I met a woman while I was working away in one of the dimmest corporate cubicles I had ever occupied. Angela was her name and we were the same age.  We often spoke of what it is that we would do if we didn’t feel chained to our practical jobs. Angela would be an interior designer and I would become a painter.

Angela was recovering from stage four-breast cancer.  She was given a second chance to live her dream, yet she remained in the cubicle.  I thought it was absurd that Angela did not pursue her dream.  She was married and had no children.  She had support.  I thought that her dream was more practical than mine.

Angela helped me realize  that I couldn’t put my dream on hold any longer waiting for practical circumstances.  It was now absurd to stay in a miserable job.

I had no support, financially or otherwise, when I moved to San Francisco to paint full time.  And no business advice from my brother, the Dean of a business school.  His opinion: this venture was not practical.  He was right.

But then, in 2007, Fortune magazine wrote an article about me and my work and entitled it “The Practical Painter”.  The last line of the article quotes my very practical advice,  “If there’s something you really want to do, do it now.”

I  studied with, and was inspired by a famed creator, Viktor Schreckengost, also known as the “American da Vinci.”  He painted, sculpted, and was a pioneer industrial designer.  You still use and see his designs.  In 1972, Viktor Schreckengost established the Industrial Design department at The Cleveland Institute of Art, founded in 1882, where I graduated in 1987. And I actually graduated with a degree in Industrial Design, not painting.

In fact, the art school was often cold and the painting studios where not properly ventilated so I developed a horrible skin rash when I worked with turpentine and oils.  I was  allergic to oil painting when I was in art school and I walked around with a raw rash on my neck.  It was no wonder that I produced muddy and flat paintings.

Years later when I discovered painting again, I found the least toxic approach to oil painting that involves only pigment and linseed oil.  There were no more skin conditions.

Viktor Schreckengost inspired me more than any other professor.  He was such a Renaissance man and true gentleman.  Unfortunately, I could not say that was my experience with all my male professors, or male students, in the Industrial Design department. It was, at times, brutal.  Sexism and racism still lingered in the 1980s. I still remember a male student scoffing at my job offer at the same firm where we would be working together.  He remarked, “Well, I’ll make more money that you, and I always will.”  Although memorable, that was the least of the hostility. Despite the constant barbs, having Viktor Schreckengost as my teacher kept me going.

Viktor Schreckengost had no other agenda but to teach and inspire and he made the design process a beautiful puzzle that I still love.  I designed my company’s website, collateral, and closely collaborated with my talented graphic designer, Todd Hedgpeth, who created my graphic identity.

I use design when I paint.  It plays a huge role in developing the composition of the painting, the balance of color, the understanding of form.

Even though my personal experience of art school was far from ideal I wouldn’t change a thing.  I’m glad I knew this legend and I know that I’m not alone in this regard.  Viktor Schreckengost was a good man, a devoted teacher, and a rare talent in our time.  I recall  him telling me how he came to design the childrens toy the Hippity Hop Ball and then later sold the patent to the military to somehow function as landing gear.  I paid close attention to the fact that he owned many patents.  He was also a keen businessman and he blessed many with his creations.

“The painting arrived yesterday in great shape and we really love it. The colors are amazing and you really capture the essence of the vineyard at ‘twilight’.  I admire your talent and will enjoy “Twilight Vines” every day. The painting is really a focal point in our living space. Thanks so much for a very satisfying “collecting” experience.” - Bob Werner (online collector)

If you’ve visited my site you can see that I collect spontaneous endorsements from my collectors.  When I was trying to craft copy for annrea.com, I struggled.  It sounded forced and inauthentic.  I thought about the fact that we’re all a little weary of reading advertising speak.  Then it dawned on me: the truth is the best marketing strategy. So I began to publish my collector’s spontaneous endorsements. And I remembered that I had already created a famous marketing strategy based on the truth. This was before I understood the foundational principle of online social marketing.  Of course, the idea is not new.

Within six months of graduating from the Cleveland Institute of Art I was working at a design firm who was responsible for creating the retail environments for the then new GM Saturn car. I was flown to St. Helena, California to participate in a brain storming session at the beautiful Meadowood Resort, to construct the marketing strategies for the GM Saturn car.  I was chosen among my male counterparts because they were targeting young professional women, and they where competing with Honda.  My male counterparts referred to me as a token.  It gets better.

Even thought GM was targeting young professional women, I’m sorry to say that I was the only woman in attendance, and I was largely ignored.  I withdrew and the facilitator eventually noticed this and asked why.  I stated boldly, “Because you probably won’t listen to me” mirroring my experience at car dealerships.  That hushed the room.

Now the rules of a blue-sky session are that you cannot criticize an idea, only add to it.  He said, “Well you have to contribute, we flew you out here.”  Fair enough, maybe these men were ready to listen?  “Why don’t you sell the car for the same fair price to everyone and stop this horrendous haggling process.”  The room erupted.  One of the top ten GM dealers from Texas sitting across from me actually stood up, he was about 6’5” and big, with a pie plate sized belt buckle.  He proceeded to pound his fist and shout, “That will never work!”  Well, clearly it did.  And who knows where GM would be today if they had continued to listen better to their market. The experience helped me realize that one day; I’d figure out how to best market my own art.

I’m horrified to learn of the newest “toy” from Little Tikes. It’s a baby’s first cubicle. No joke.  This “toy” is offered as a “solution for childcare centers everywhere” and dubbed the Young Explorer Learning Computer!

There will be plenty of years to chain people to a cubicle, please just let the kids play! Let them actually do some “exploring.”  What happened to running around outside, finger painting, and coloring?  I still like to color.  I’ll color with any kid for hours.  Adults? Well, I charge them.

I only hope that my design professors from the Cleveland Institute of Art, Nottingham Spirk, had nothing to do with this.  Their award wining product design has been largely responsible for the success of this toy company.

Running outside, collecting rocks, climbing trees, growing a Girl Scout garden, these are my fond childhood memories of exploring my surrounding natural and physical environment.

People need to express themselves, some to a higher degree than others.  Working in a cubicle for years free from any self-expression almost crushed my soul.  Please don’t do this to your innocent and creative “Little Tike”.  Babies don’t need ergonomic solutions to enhance their productivity.  They need to play.  And so do we!

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This past Sunday my fiancé took me to see the Wayne Thiebaud exhibit at the San Jose art museum.  I could have spent all day there.  The title of the show is “Seventy Years of Painting.”  It was amazing to see a slice of my mentor’s work representing his life’s effort.

I sat and watched the 70-minute interview with him and heard him offer the same observations and advice that he offered me.  That as painters we are in the business of creating illusions, that one must use critical confrontation to edit our work, and to be conscious that there is muscularity in a painting, an artist’s movements are reflected in the canvas.

If you look closely, you can see how his close friendships with contemporary painters Willem DeKooning and Richard Diebenkorn left their mark in his history.  And I noticed each of these art giants is an amazing draftsman.  As Thiebaud says, “drawing is foundational” and that’s what I learned from Viktor Schreckengost at the Cleveland Institute of Art. Established in 1882, it is a highly esteemed member the Association of Independent Colleges of Art, a coalition of the leading art schools in the United States.

Go see his “lushly painted glimpses of everyday life—from a slice of pie to a steep San Francisco streetscape—are icons of American Pop Art.”

Theibaud is really a painter’s painter.  He understands the medium; he’s unusually passionate about teaching despite his individual success in the international art scene.  I’m so appreciative that our paths crossed.