Artist seeking balance in art and life

His enclave is sequestered behind the "stage set" of a modern Johns Island subdivision.

Few would suspect that past an incongruous chicken-wire gate rests a quiet meld of tradition (a 100-year-old home) and state-of-the-art studio (disguised as a converted farm building). Or that nestled in this wooded pocket is an artist as deeply immersed in the larger world as in his own backyard.

John Duckworth strolls outside, accompanied by a phalanx of dogs.

Though relaxed as an iguana in the sun, his thoughts turn quickly to energy. And process.

"I am very energized by the work I am doing now, particularly because I feel like I have a better grasp on what it is I am doing," says the 38-year-old San Diego native.

Duckworth opens the door to his studio, and a window onto a remarkable array of work.

The interior is carefully composed, a marriage of old-school and high-tech, looking out on a bucolic setting that reflects the artist's attunement to the rhythms and cycles of nature, which he says is revealed in his work on every level.

Yet unlike the natural realm, Duckworth says he must "build in" moments of spontaneity into his process, as antithetical as that sounds.

"I tend to have a pretty even split -- right side, left side -- as far as my brain works. But if I'm not careful I get too organized about the work. The analytical side of my mind can hyper-organize my creative process. That's one of the reasons I tend to work in so many different styles, because it keeps me shifting and changing in ways that does not allow the process to get too constricted."

Synergy

Whether in his various photographic series (Spirari, Landscape Abstracts, Urban Journey, Myopic) or paintings series (Southern Form, icons, Tunes and Whispers, Caballo), Duckworth often relishes "walking the line" between realism and abstraction.

"It's about finding that balance," says Duckworth, whose first book, "Photographs," is due out shortly. "That's really what life's all about. It is very much in line with what I have been reading in Buddhist studies, which has been an attraction for me lately. The middle path. Not being excessive one way of the other. Everything in moderation -- including moderation. For particular series, like Urban Journey and Landscape Abstracts, I love to be able to create a work that captures the essence of the scene without getting bogged down in details."

Duckworth says his goal as a photographer is to portray more the memory of the experience of being there rather than the infinite detail one can see in a classical photograph, not to say he never takes straight shots.

And the transition from the world of film cameras to that of digital was liberating.

"Photography already is a really technical medium. And the only problem with it for me is that there is a point where the technical nature of the process starts to bog me down and I've got to put down the camera, pick up some paints, and paint, doing something that feeds my mind in a wholly different way. Then, working in that different style, it too can become somewhat technical, and I'll need to get even looser and more gestural. This circular pattern has been going on as long as I can remember."

Duckworth's new series of paintings, "Tunes and Whispers," likewise incorporates realism and abstraction.

"Previously what would happen is that my photography would end up having very strong painterly references and my painting would have strong photographic elements. They kept feeding off each other, back and forth. It wasn't until this new series of paintings where painting and photography merged."

Finding a path

The middle child of five born to Jim and Kaydee Duckworth, Duckworth skipped from school to school in his early years, settling on the University of California at Davis in pre-veterinary studies before finally graduating from the College of Charleston in 1999, finding in the Lowcountry a "torrent of visual inspiration.".

"I've always been an artist, but most of the people around me in high school would say 'have a backup plan.' That's the reason I wound up at UC-Davis. That was my backup plan. But I just wanted to be an artist. I dropped out after a year of majoring in substance abuse, which I was really good at."

Enter California artist David Baze, who became his mentor, and also provided an object lesson in how a serious artist survives, and hopefully thrives, in the marketplace.

When Duckworth returned home to San Diego, his mother, who had painted much of her life, was taking classes again after being a stay-at-home mom with five kids for so long. One of her instructors was Baze. And she volunteered her son's services.

"So for about a year and a half I came by every week and helped out around David's studio. It wasn't so much his craft, though I loved his work, but being immersed in his life that was so inspiring. So this is possible, I thought. And it's possible the way anybody else makes a living. You just do it consistently day in, day out, and don't falter on that path. And you do the things you don't want to do every day: you make the phone calls, you hit the streets, you keep everything organized for your taxes, pay your bills and so on.

"Watching him was like watching the curtain drawn back and seeing the inner workings of the profession. This life of the artist isn't the sort of magical thing that so many seem to believe it is. It is just a matter of doing the work. I do not mean to completely remove the magic from the process, because there is lot about the romance of the lifestyle that is worth celebrating, but that's more from the outside looking in."

Like all those fascinated with ideas, Duckworth is enamored of great quotes, the ones that become aphorisms, crystallize a concept, or offer brushstrokes on the art of living. His website (http://jduckworth.com) is festooned with them, not least on the process of art.

"The reality is that most artists, writers and poets aren't sitting around waiting for inspiration. John Cage said it best, "Inspiration comes in the midst of the work.' That's when the ah-ha moment arrives."

Influences

Duckworth cites quite an aggregate of influences -- Wayne Thiebaud (for his "vivid colors"), Edward Hopper (for his "quiet solitude") Jean-Luc Goddard (for his genius as a cinematographer), Henri Cartier-Bresson (for his "captured moments"), Mark Rothko (for his "serenity"), Gerhard Richter (for his "diversity and range") and Joseph Albers (for "endless juxtapositions") -- though his continually evolving style is his own as Duckworth ventures from brush to camera to computer.

"I'd say Richter had the most profound influence on me because of his breadth of work, from photo-realist painting to complete color field abstraction and abstract expressionism. So often people have suggested I choose one particular direction, but when I saw Richter's work, the doors opened again. I realized I was not the only one out here (working in multiple arenas). And I don't want to be pigeonholed."

Duckworth says he's always been "a bit of an anomaly" as an artist in that he owns a solid sense for the business end as well.

"I've never been content to rely in a gallery to do everything for me," says Duckworth, whose work as a filmmaker includes his collaboration with musician Quentin Baxter on the 60-minute performance piece "Art Moves Jazz." "The gallery paradigm is in need of a shift and I think the current technology of the day -- social media, networking, and the access to a wider audience through those sources -- is going to change things, though I am not exactly sure how.

"But one thing never changes. You succeed by daily practice and having faith and confidence in the path you're on, but also by being realistic."

Reach Bill Thompson at bthompson@postandcourier.com or 937-5707.