The Art of Dru Blair.

Dru Blair is an exceptional artist whose super-realistic images dramatically portray subjects that salute man's
greatest's technological triumphs.  While his art focuses primarily on High Technology Aviation and Military
Aircraft, he has also been selected to portray many Star Trek images, as well as such diverse subjects as the
Budweiser frogs, and numerous magazine and book covers.
His ambitions originally were directed toward a career in medicine, but during his undergraduate studies at
Furman University in Greenville, S.C., he discovered an artistic ability.  He switched majors his senior year
and graduated in 1981 with a BA. degree in art.  He later found employment in Myrtle Beach, as an airbrush
artist painting T-shirts, where he returned every summer for the next 8 years.  In the mean time, he was honing
his now famous airbrush skills, with the intention of establishing himself as a commercial artist.  In 1988 he
won the National Airbrush Excellence Award, which ushered in a wave of commercial opportunities.  The following
year he produced his first aviation painting "Power", which remains the number one selling aviation print in
the world.  Other aviation paintings followed the advent of his own publishing company, Blair Art Studios, and
more recently, the Blair School of Art in Raleigh, North Carolina.

AAA:  Let's start with a remark you made prior to this interview.  It seems that your education demanded
serious commitment and dedication, so it comes as somewhat of a surprise to hear you say that its impact on
your career is nil.  Would that imply that formal education is flawed?

Dru:  No, it's not the formal art training itself that is flawed, but the prevailing attitude against
representationalism in the realms of academia that cripples most art students.  Many collegiate instructors
hold modernist beliefs that representational art - especially photorealism, is inferior to every other form of
art.  I was subjected by a few of my professors to the vilification of representational artists and methodical
brain-washing against realism.  Their teachings demanded I embrace an irrational standard of what they insisted
qualified as "high art".  The abstract expressionist art that modernists hold in sanctimonious reverence
happens to require no drawing skills, no training, no verifiable color discrimination, no mastery of technique,
and no taste.  Students who accept modernists beliefs are then expected to go out and make a living producing
this junk.  If the student refuses to embrace the modernists sentiments, he is penalized.  Although modernists
cannot explain how non-representational art is superior, they will claim the poor student just "doesn't
understand".
I've concluded that the superiority of modernist art is a fraud perpetrated by faculties, museum curators and
art historians, and the danger of formal education is most likely the exposure to a belief system that demands
you accept flawed premises for aesthetic evaluation, despite the evidence of your senses.  If you look at a
Albert Bierstadt painting next to a Picasso without knowing either artist or their reputation, you would judge
the Bierstadt painting superior and the Picasso to be amateurish.  Why?  Because the virtuosity with the paint
and brush is self-evident in the Bierstadt painting, as is the artist's sensitivity to color, light, and
subtlety of the natural world.  You don't see any of this in the modernists paintings.

AAA:  A bold statement, but I think many will agree on what you say.  Being an established teacher yourself,
what would you change in art education today, and what do you feel are the most valuable aspects that students
should learn?

Dru:  First of all, I would require that the instructors be working professionals in the art field.  The art
market changes yearly, and the instructors need to be savvy to the environment that they are preparing their
students for, otherwise they will be ill-equipped to succeed in the real world.  I would also recommend the
student avoid a Fine Arts degree if they want to pursue commercial art, because the strongest modernist
rhetoric lies within the halls of the Fine Arts establishment.  I would implement foundational curriculums to
establish the basics for artists at the onset of their education, but in the style of the Old Masters.
Drawing, anatomy, perspective, color theory, plein-aire techniques, lighting, composition, etc.  No matter what
medium you ultimately use whether it be conventional brush, airbrush, or computer, you need to be able to see
and understand how your visual faculties do business with the world around you.  Simply slopping one or two
colors onto a canvas to create an impressionistic painting will teach a student nothing, and is certainly a
recipe for starvation.  Secondly, I would teach aspiring artists the business of art.  I know so many
incredibly talented artists that are barely making a living, simply because they don't know how to market
themselves.  In the real world, an art director is not going to hire an artist for his or her diploma, but
rather for the quality of the portfolio, and confidence in the artist being able to deliver.  Therefore a
student's skills need to be developed to ensure artistic competence by graduation.

AAA:  You bring that philosophy into praxis by means of your own teachings at the Blair School of Art, and some
of your students and interns have been able to build up a successful career of their own, guided by your
tutoring.  Aren't you creating your own competition that way which might eventually turn against you?

Dru:  Not at all, I believe that competition improves us all.  I don't agree with the premise that another
person's skills and expertise are a threat.  Quite the contrary, we all derive benefits from each other.
Fellow artists enrich my life with their imagination, perspectives, creativity and talent.  As an artist, I
derive the additional benefit of a subjective avenue in which I can judge my own progress.  I am not
"competition sensitive" - I seek it out.  Also I try to interact with other artists with the same respect I
would like to be afforded.  Occasionally I had some of my best interns work on a few of my own paintings under
my direction, with me refining and revising it in the end.  Worth mentioning here is Rene Borst, who has now
become a celebrated artist in his own right.  I'm truly proud of how well he's done, because unlike others who
have given up too soon, he was willing to persevere, and always stayed hungry to learn.  I enjoy sharing what I
have learned, because I want to see my fellow artists succeed.  It's incredibly wasteful for each of us to have
to "reinvent the wheel" as part of the artistic process, when there are shorter paths to learning.  I learn a
lot from my students and interns, and it would be dogmatic for me to think that I have all the answers.  We are
all students for the rest of our lives hopefully because if ego kicks in, the learning process stops.

AAA:  Yes that is so true.  Let's talk about "Power", the afterburn start that got you noticed as an Aviation
Artist.  Can you tell us something about how the painting was conceived, also from a conceptual and artistic
point of view?

Dru:  Power was an astonishing and unexpected instant success, and remains my best selling print to date.  The
initial inspiration came from reading an unfair and biased treatment given to the B-1B by some members of the
press.  As a response, I decided to celebrate the B-1B in a painting.  At the time I knew that it flew very
fast at tree top level, which was initially what I set out to depict, but when I set out to paint it, I
honestly had no idea what the final image was to look like.  Up until 1995, I approached my paintings with a
Fine Arts attitude, interacting with the painting as it progressed.  I dove right into it, trusting that I
could solve any compositional issue that arose.  This approach was risky, resulting in several aborted
paintings.  Initially I was going to have the aircraft pushing aside tree tops in it's wake.  I painted the
plane, masked it out, then literally started at the top with the sky, working my way down toward the bottom of
the painting.  I didn't even decide on water until I reached that area.  I finally decided to go with a rooster
tail, based on a conversation I had with my uncle, Carrol Ligon, who witnessed the same shockwave effect in
Vietnam where he flew F-100s.  "Power" became very successful indeed, but it was not my greatest artistic
success.

AAA:  Aha, what aviation painting then, do you consider your most artistically successful?

Dru:  I think that would be "Hellstorm."  The challenge there was to depict the AH-64 Apache helicopter in it's
environment, which is compete darkness.  But as you know, light is a somewhat vital and necessary component of
any painting, and I stumbled upon the solution watching fireworks and how they temporarily illuminated objects
around them.  I travelled to Ft Bragg, and with the help of some of the pilots, set up a camera and spotlight
in the hangar, taking a 2 minute exposure of a parked Apache for reference.

AAA:  I can see the artistic challenge in that, and your approach by using the flash of the Hellfire missile to
illuminate the main Apache helicopter, yields an impressive result.  If we take a step back, what is your
fascination with aviation art and military aircraft in particular?

Dru:  I suppose my fascination with high-performance aircraft comes from childhood.  It's a topic of almost
universal interest among young men.  To an adult this probably also takes on the added symbology of freedom and
there is, of course, the symbolic freedom of flight itself.  On a higher level though, the military aircraft I
select celebrate American achievements in leading-edge technology.  These achievements really stand, I think,
as monuments to the mind of the individual in a free enterprise system.  I view my subjects as the tools of
ingenuity man uses in his right to self-defense and as a celebration of freedom.

AAA:  Artists are generally known to avoid military issues, unless the statement is based on protest, so I can
imagine that some of the things you say or paint are controversial to others.  It is said to be wrong to
glorify weapons of mass destruction and that people are supposed to better the world in a peaceful way.  What
is your view on this?

Dru:  It's true that many artists are hostile to the military and defense in general.  It seems contradictory
to me that while they may embrace freedom of expression, they condemn the men, women, and hardware that defend
the very freedom they depend on.  The aircraft I paint are a celebration of flight and the freedom they
guarantee.  We all wish for global piece, but the reality is that as long as tyrants exist who would initiate
the use of force against a peaceful nation, then that nation has the obligation to defend itself and it's
allies.  If you have powerful weapons and the will to use them, a tyrant with expansionist dreams would
hesitate before invading you or your allies.  People also tend to forget that deterrence isn't always nuclear.
To put it in perspective, a robber is not likely to knowingly choose an armed man as a victim.

AAA:   I see your point.  Artistically speaking, how does aviation art differ from other art, and how would you
define a good aviation painting?

Dru:  Well, besides having the virtues of good composition, you need consistency in lighting, reflection,
temporal aspects, proportion, and finish.  By finish I mean that every square inch of the painting should be
regarded with equal importance.  I've seen way too many aviation artist put all their effort into the aircraft
itself , while ignoring the environment that it is depicted in.  The most common problem that exists with most
aviation art is it's lifelessness.  These planes are full of hydraulic fluids and fuel, some of which
invariably gets spilled on the surface of the aircraft when it is serviced.  Portraying this, along with wear
and tear is essential in keeping the aircraft believable so that it doesn't look like a plastic model.  I think
aviation paintings are generally better if something is actually happening, rather than a mere imitation of a
photograph depicting an aircraft hanging still in the air.  Your audience is also going to demand absolute
technical accuracy, and rest assured that they will spot the tiniest mistake.  A painting is faulty if a number
or marking on an aircraft is incorrect, or any control surface is improperly set.  Such a strong technical
treatment or assessment by the audience probably reflects that aviation art should be regarded as illustration
rather than fine art, where aesthetics is the primary concern.

AAA:  That is quite an unusual statement coming from an aviation artist.  Would I have to draw the conclusion,
that you feel Fine Art depends on subject matter and not emotional impact?

Dru:  Hold on there, let's first define our terms:  Illustration is the creation of art for the sake of a
utilitarian purpose.  An example would be to demonstrate a new technology, sell a book, or tell a story, where
the art exists primarily for other reasons than for art's sake.  Additionally, illustration is goal-specific.
In other words, the creator has a defined goal that he or she is trying to achieve.  Fine art primarily exists
for the sake of aesthetics.  The artist usually experiences more interaction with the piece during the creation
process, and the end result is not often clearly defined when the artist undertakes the painting.  I don't
think that Fine Art is necessarily dependent on subject matter, but rather how the subject matter is handled.
I would venture that aviation artists and fans place so much emphasis on accuracy, that they overlook
aesthetics.  Most aviation art I've seen seems to be more about the display of technology than the beauty of
flight.  I too am guilty of becoming overly focused on the details, perhaps as a reaction to the response I get
from my audience who demands accuracy.

AAA:  Yes, but you once mentioned Barrie Clark's "Spitfire!" as your favorite aviation painting, because it
approaches fine art as close as aviation art can be.  Your reasoning was, that it's only piece you know where
technical accuracy is ignored in favor of aesthetics.  Can't aesthetics be a primary goal without having to
compromise on accuracy?  And if not, wouldn't that suggest that technical accuracy is not always desirable?

Dru:  It should be conceivably possible to merge the two, but that's not the issue here.  What makes Barrie
Clark's painting more like a fine art piece, is the omission of detail in just the right areas, allowing the
viewer to interact with the painting.  Whether accidental or intentional, he blurs areas with brush strokes and
uses circular shapes where ellipses would be more technically accurate.  In both cases, technical accuracy
would have compromised the aesthetics.  I believe that technical accuracy is not as important as visual impact.

AAA:  So you value fine art above illustration.

Dru:  Yes I do.  You seem surprised?

AAA:  Well no, but I am intrigued by your reasoning.  A lot of artists say they create with impulse or emotion,
but not you it seems.  Would it be fair to say that you approach your Art from a rational and analytic view
instead?

Dru:  The airbrush is extremely cerebral in nature, so it does not allow you to become as physical with your
board.  To operate and employ the use of frisket requires planning and strategy.  The impulse or emotion occurs
at the conceptual stage.  After that, the painting becomes academic.  That is not to say that I don't believe
in spontaneity, but the very nature of the airbrush simply doesn't allow you to just start recklessly slopping
paint on the board or canvas and yield acceptable results.  I've found that imagination is superior to impulse.

AAA:  But it's common belief that artists derive their inspiration from emotions.

Dru Blair:  No, emotions are the by-product of a decision or action, at least in my case.  They are never the
cause.  Most people don't realize that emotions are automatic responses to something, similar to a reflex.  Art
can produce an emotional response in the observer, but the art itself can not contain emotion as posed by the
modernists.

AAA:  You're doing it again.  You constantly invoke philosophy in you reasoning.  Why is that?

Dru :  Well, philosophy is a method by which I gain a sense of order.  Everyone has a philosophy, principles
which they adhere to and look to for guidance in their lives.  It's a question of whether or not you define
those principles and test them against reality.  I think that reality is objective, or independent of man's
wishes or thoughts.  Also I feel that an individual has the right to exist for his own benefit and should not
be forced to live for the sake of others if he doesn't want to do so out of his own free will.  I also believe
that integrity and rationality are the standards of action, and productivity and creativity are the goals of a
rational man.  I could go on, but you're going to need at least a few more pages then.  What do you think?

AAA:  Okay, let's stay on track or no, let's change the subject.  You've maintained through the years that
photography is not art, yet we see art museums dedicating entire exhibitions to photography.  If so many
museums and art specialists embrace photography as art, why can't you?

Dru:  You mean the same museums and art critics that accept a bowl of dirt on the floor as art?  The doctrine
manifested by the Post Modernists attempts to subvert the true definition of art and render it meaningless, by
allowing anything to fall under the category of art?  The term is further eroded by their association with
everyday tasks such as "the art of baking a cake" or "the art of laying bricks." No disrespect to cooks or
masons, but a craft or skill that requires a decision making process alone is not enough to qualify it as
"art."  The question of "What is art" has never been so confusing as it is today.  If everything we say and do
is art, then the term itself ceases to have any meaning at all.

AAA:  Okay.  Well, then let's hear your definition of art and why photography doesn't qualify.

Dru:  Art is the selective re-creation or conversion of reality by the human mind into concrete imagery according
to an artist's metaphysical value judgements.  Real or imagined concepts are filtered and altered through the
human mind to the artist's hand to create an image or sound that did not exist before.  The reason photography
does not qualify as art is that the process removes the filter of the human mind as an interpretative element. 
Photography is only a mechanical recording of reality.

AAA:  But nonetheless there is a vital aesthetic human decision-making process in creating a photograph.

Dru:  Yes, but so is in choosing wallpaper for your den.  Photography removes the human mind as a filter from
the loop and relegates it to merely deciding on how to mechanically record reality with the click of a button.
Even being a photographer myself, I don't believe that the creation of art can be reduced to a button click.  I
might add that the most celebrated photographs are the ones that most closely imitate paintings.

AAA:  But to some, the most celebrated paintings are the ones that most closely resemble photographs.  I sense
a contradiction if you say that photography is not art when many of your paintings closely imitate photographs.

Dru:  Some of my work might be considered photorealistic, but there is still an interpretative human element
involved.  First my efforts are not to simply mimic reality, because the photograph does a far superior job.
I'm seeking to conjure up a convincing illusion of reality that might not have previously existed except in my
mind.  Secondly, the human aspect is still "in the loop" as the concept, borrowed from reality, is converted
and interpreted in my mind and manifests itself through the actions of my hand holding the airbrush.

AAA:  But isn't the painting of Vanessa a literal interpretation of reality?  Where is the art in that?

Dru:  In truth, I don't think I've ever been able to perfectly capture reality.  The sole purpose of the
Vanessa painting was merely a demonstration of technique for a Pin-up class at my school, and I was seeking to
portray her as accurately as possible.  However, try as I might, there are still differences between the photo
reference and the painting.  It was unconscious and unintentional, but her image changed as my mind interpreted
and filtered it.  Hopefully the believability of the image survived and remains convincing.

AAA:  Without any doubt, which brings me to the following question.  Bearing in mind that your level of detail
is not always there, but can still look as if it is.  How do you get away with that, at what point do you
decide or know that a painting is complete?

Dru:   You are referring to the etcetera principle, which is a phenomenon where the viewer's mind completes an
unfinished image.  If you put the right amount of detail in a few key areas, the spectator will unconsciously
complete the painting.  When you see a connect the dot puzzle, you are able to discern the final image without
completing it, because "line stops, but thought continues".  In my classes, I refer to this as the 4th rule of
realism.
You see, there is a point at which your returns on your effort will start to diminish or become invisible.  I
used to paint Star Trek covers with as much detail as possible, until I read an article about movie matte
painters and how they stand back while creating their paintings to retain a sense of overall visual impact.  I
see a lot of artists sweating the details when painting a face, making sure every eyelash is counted and every
pore defined, but they concentrate on these items at the peril of other aspects of their painting.  You can
spend a year on a painting, but is it necessary from an artistic or even economic standpoint?  The same applies
to composition.  Often the impulse is to put a lot of objects into a scene, thinking that more will be better
while in reality less is more.  I try to use "negative space" as a compositional element to keep the attention
focused on the main subject, without other elements in the image competing against it.

AAA:  We haven't talked about your commercial work, and more in particular the artwork you produce for Star
Trek.  Can you describe how it is working for a client like Paramount Pictures?

Dru:  It's not that mysterious as you make it sound, you know.  Like all my clients, they have their
preferences on the "look" of the artwork.  The usual formula for a cover is character driven, with two heads
and some hardware, usually a ship.  The biggest challenge is finding good photographic reference.  There's a
limited amount of really good material to work with, and you don't want to use the same shot over and over
again, so you have to find creative ways to work with the photos you have.  Also, since the covers are
actor-approved you need to be sensitive to the preferences of the particular actor you are depicting.  Some are
easier to satisfy than others concerning their likeness, but after a while, you learn how to treat the image so
that everyone will be satisfied.  The airbrush also seems to be forgiving on texture where subtlety is crucial,
like on small female portraits for example.

AAA:  Speaking of, how important is the airbrush for you, and what do you think it's limits are?

Dru:  The beauty of the airbrush is in the way in which it can delicately apply tiny amounts of paint to a
surface.  Nature is very subtle in its presentation to the human eye, and the airbrush is the ideal tool to
recreate many of the nuances of the visual world.  It is by nature, a soft edged applicator, and harder edges
require the application of some technique usually in the form of masks or frisket.  Ironically, the hardest
part is recreating those transitional edges that are not as crisp as frisketed edges, but more hard-edged than
normal free hand airbrush.  The other side of the coin shows that the tool tends to be sterile and cold, and
the artist has to work hard for more organic effects.  It naturally creates a soft, often featureless surface,
and one has to apply various other techniques to capture textures.

AAA:  Has it's significance changed for you over the years?

Dru:  Well, the obvious change for all artists in the past decade has been the advent of the personal computer
with powerful image editing capabilities.  The computer's appeal is the promise to turn everyone into artists
with the click of a mouse button.  Unfortunately, simply owning a computer, like owning a camera, doesn't make
an artist.  The proliferation of the computer has spawned tens of thousands of wanna-be artists, who find
themselves without employment, yet willing to give away their art for the sake of exposure.  The impact on the
commercial art market has been enormous.

AAA:  In what way?

Dru:  Many artists and art directors were initially seduced by the computer, and for a few years digital
imagery was the rage.  But late last year the pendulum started swinging back toward the traditional painting.
This year we are seeing more requests for painted work instead of computer enhanced illustrations.  In fact,
almost all my clients for the past 8 months have insisted that no computer is to be used to create the image.
One director even told me that he forbids his artists and designers to use the computer because most of the
"standard filters" are becoming clichª.

AAA:  I'm sure that this thought is being echoed elsewhere, and now that you mention it, that is something we
can relate to all too well.  You're about to walk new roads, one of them being the exploration of fantasy art
and a more painterly effect.  What can we expect?

Dru:  I think my wish for a more painterly look is a response echoed in the advertising industry's reaction to
the sterile "computer look." I think my next paintings will deal with some of the subjects I haven't fully
explored yet.  I've had some conversations about doing some artwork for NASCAR, and I'd like to do more Pin-Up
paintings.  Fantasy art has always interested me too.  As far as other explorations, I've had the urge to
create oil paintings since meeting Frazetta, although I think it might be a lifetime before I could even be
competent enough to clean his brushes for him.  Seeing his original paintings was breathtaking, but I was
especially moved by meeting Frazetta himself, and witnessing his force of character and sense of humor.  There
was none of the pomp and arrogance that might be characteristic of a living legend.  He had inspired me to
become and artist after first seeing his work in 1979, and I still have reverence for him and his work.

AAA:  That makes two of us.  One last question.  In your opinion, what are the most common mistakes made by
less experienced airbrush artists ?  For the sake of our readers, can you give a few hints?

Dru:  I would be persistent and gain competency before soliciting jobs.  Treat every client and job as if they
were the most important work you've ever accepted.  From a business standpoint the most common mistake I notice
with younger artists is the illusion that they will be discovered and their career set, if they appear in a
publication.  For this they will give away their art thinking the exposure will be adequate compensation.  I
hate to disappoint anybody, but to date, I have never received a single job from someone seeing my name on a
Star Trek Novel Cover.  The most common artistic mistake that less experienced artists make is using paint
straight out of the bottle.  Nature is very subtle and colors in the real world appear much more subdued than
some artists tend to treat them.  Yet another pitfall is failure to exercise restraint.  Many of my students
have a degree in art, and still it amazes me how little knowledge on color they were given with their formal
art education.  So perhaps a general advice would be:  Remember what is about to become forgotten, which is the
way of the Old Masters.  Go and find yourself a good tutor that is willing to share his knowledge, this will
save you years of agonising over what you "see" and therefore what you paint.