Kim Carlton in her studio

Autobiography

True of most artists, true of this artist: I've always been an artist.  There was no starting point.  As I prepared to graduate from high school in 1975, however, I was told that I was not really an "Artist," that I was more of a copyist, able to accurately reproduce what I could see instead of creating from my imagination.  To be able to do only that, I was counseled, meant that I would not be commercially interesting and could never make a living at art.  There were certain things I knew about my future, chief of which were these two: I would be an Artist, and I would make a good living.  I now saw that these would be separate endeavors.

In college, I learned that the Fine Art Department offered only abstract expressionism and the like, so I majored in my second love, English Literature.  During this time, new fields were opening up to women and my eyes were peeled.  One Sunday morning, on the cover of Parade magazine, I saw a woman airline captain smiling at me from the cockpit and my world changed.  The article said that airlines were hiring women.  It told of the travel, the schedule, the income: in short, it told me how I could make a living and still be an Artist.

It took no time at all to learn I couldn't afford the training to become a pilot.  I knew something, though, from having been raised in the Naval Aviation community: the military will pay you to learn to fly!   And they will teach you to fly jets if you're good.  After interviewing some Naval officers, I decided to enter the Navy through the Officer Candidate School and move laterally into aviation.  Wasn't this a great idea? 

I received my commission in March of 1980 and was fortunate to be assigned to an advanced jet training squadron in Beeville, Texas.  When I checked in, being the first woman officer ever to do so, and a ground officer at that, the commander, Bob Kiem, wanted to know what I hoped to accomplish there.  I told him candidly, "Sir, my goals are to stay single and to get my wings."  Well, he burst into laughter, told me (using colorful Navy language) that he approved, then picked up the phone and got me into survival school.  By Friday, I had my backseat license to fly in the TA-4 Skyhawk and was on my first cross-country trip! 

The Navy at this time was under Affirmative Action orders to produce five women pilots a year.  This year, 1980, I applied for flight school and was the sixth person chosen.  It's like being Miss Runner-Up: if anything happened to any of the other five, the first alternate was moved into that slot.  It also meant that if you kept your nose clean, you'd be selected the following year.  Skipper Kiem made it possible for me to fly whenever my workload permitted, so I racked up jet time that none of my competitors were able to.  I looked golden on paper.  Plus, I had all these Navy pilots writing endorsements for me.  Nothing could stop me now.

Every night as I was falling asleep, I would lay my right hand on my chest and imagine the feel of the wings of gold.  I believed then that if you could picture a thing, you could accomplish a thing.  I purposely did not date anyone who I thought I might accidentally fall in love with.  You know, the heart is deceitful above all things, and I was not to be derailed.  

I was a distance runner and spent many hours just running, and there was this great guy who lived around the corner from me who would generously ride his bike along with me, telling me stories and calling out my split times.  His name was Russ and he was "safe," as he was not my type.  He was, however, very smart and funny and I enjoyed being with him enormously.  Can you see the writing on the wall?  I couldn't. 

One evening as the sun was going down, I was running alone and was fighting with my heart.  It was sneaking up on me from behind: I liked being with Russ more than I liked anything else.  Oh how I cried and strenuously reminded God about my rock-solid plan.  I redoubled my ambition and sharpened my focus.  As I was falling asleep, my hand pressed to my chest, I could now feel my heartbeat.  I was beginning to think that I might have to betray my heart to get my wings. 

The week that I was accepted into the flight program for 1981, Russ proposed marriage. I believed that I could do both, but he believed that a long-distance marriage was not a marriage. He said that if I would become his wife, he would teach me to fly. The Navy said that if I wanted to become a Naval Aviator, just submit my paperwork.

We were married that October and moved to San Diego.  Through a series of odd events, I eventually ended up working in Naval Intelligence, teaching political warfare and counter-terrorism, an odd job for an artist!  But in both my Navy jobs, I also acted as an ad-hoc Artist.  And in both my Navy jobs, I loved what I was doing.  If I could have written my own script, I probably would have stayed in the service; it was that good.  But, again, God had other plans.

My last day on the job at the Fleet Intelligence Training Center was the day our first son was born.  By this time, 1986, my fighter pilot husband was (ironically!) a brand new airline pilot.  I went into the Naval Reserve, and we moved to Texas where we restored a turn of the century house in a small town, and had two more sons.

Fast forward twenty years and you find me still in Texas, near Houston now, and still creating Art.  It's poetic, in retrospect, to see how much more artful than mine are God's plans.  He did have to pry my fingers off my plans for me, but the things He gave me to hold onto in their place are so much better!  Who would have guessed?  I have joined a wonderful community of Representational Artists who love what I love and do what I do.  And the poetry of it: I have been able to pursue my Art freely and make a good living.  Just not the way I pictured it, at all.  Instead of flying solo in this life, I've been given a partner and three wingmen.  My motto is Paint Your Joy! My prayer is that you will receive my work, that it may become Fine Art.

The perennial student, Carlton's art has evolved over the years from monochromatic Realism, in which she mastered line, value, shape, form, edges, texture, and design.  She worked in charcoal, conté, graphite, ink, and scrimshaw, with forays into etching and sculpting.  This background provided her with a solid foundation upon which to venture into color.

In the 1990s, Carlton moved into pastels, watercolor, and oil painting.  While she continues to explore these various media, it is oil painting that has allowed her to fully express her vision.

Passionate about her art, Carlton loves working with other artists, believing that the synergy of that environment allows exponential growth of the individuals and quantum leaps in their collective experiments.

Carlton has learned from masters both living and long-expired.  "My work shows influences from every one of my teachers," she asserts.  She credits Everett Raymond Kinstler as having the most profound influence on her art.

"Mr. Kinstler's artistic pedigree is enviable, coming as he does directly from John Singer Sargent.  He was able to help me, not to paint like himself but to begin doing what Sargent did—absorb what has come before me, influenced by what is going on around me, synthesized and expressed through my unique artistic self.  He told me to quit thinking linearly, to start working spatially, in planes of color-value.  It is truly like learning to express your same thoughts in a new language; I'm still in transition."

Kim is equally at ease in studio or working en plein air.  Her style is Representational, with subjects ranging from the still life to the figure, the landscape to the interior.  The materials she uses are the very finest available today.  Her work has been honored in international competitions, and she is a member of the Portrait Society of America, Oil Painters of America, and the Outdoor Painters Society.

About Jude 25

I write “Jude 25” or “J25” on my paintings when I sign them, and I’m frequently asked, “What does that mean?”

I struggle with perfectionism.  This does not mean I hold out for perfection in my painting.  On the contrary, it means I am never pleased or happy with my work, believing that one more thing would make it better.

In the early 90’s, when I started producing art for purchase, I tried so hard to match my work to my vision; but I just could not do it.  When someone admired my work, I explained how it was not admirable, where it failed, why they were wrong.  I tried to describe the abstract concept that existed in my head, so they could appreciate the shortcomings of the work along with me.

Seeing this, my husband took me aside and said, “Look, you think you are being modest when you do that. Actually, you’re being prideful and you’re insulting the sensitivities of these people.  In effect, you’re saying, ‘You are too ignorant to see that this is not good enough.’” 

I was horrified at this.  Not that I consciously thought people were too ignorant, but he was right that I couldn’t let them just experience the work.  I didn’t think it was Art: I wanted it to be better.  I could not let go of it.

He continued, “Your talent is a gift from God, but the art it produces is not for you.  It’s meant to be shared and doesn’t become ‘Art’ until someone else receives it; before that, it’s just a work in progress.  You are preventing that.  You have to find a way to give God the credit and let go, so it can gracefully leave you and become Art.”

Well, how on earth do you do that?  What am I to say when someone admires my work? “Oh, it’s a gift from God.”  Please!  That’s not too graceful.  Neither is a long, explanatory sermon.  I needed to find a way to privately say to God, “I’ve done my best and now this will exist independently of me.  Whatever happens with it is up to You.” 

Every year I read through the entire Bible.  Shortly after my husband and I had that discussion, I was reading the Book of Jude and saw in verse 25 the words that were welling up in my heart:

And now, to the only God our Savior
Be glory and majesty,
Power and authority,
Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
Before all ages,
Now and forevermore.
Amen.  

So, now and forevermore, the moment I determine there is nothing else I should do to a work, I dedicate it to God and write “Jude 25” on it. Then I sign and date it. It’s not perfect, but I am a work in progress.

Jude 25.