Texas Chillin 

Editor: Here we have Thomas Blackshear's oil painting, "Texas Chillin". I get this real feeling of…self-assuredness from the subject, you know? He just seems so calm, sitting there with his rope and cigar. What strikes you most when you look at it? Art Historian: Well, first off, that title’s a bit of alright, isn’t it? Takes the stuffiness out of art appreciation, doesn't it? Makes you want to pull up a chair and join him for a smoke – metaphorical, of course, unless you’ve got one handy! I find myself drawn to the light. See how it bathes him? It isn't just *any* light; it has that hazy, end-of-day warmth. Blackshear's control is evident. How the folds of his shirt, rope, and even the jug take their own unique life, feels more sculpted than painted, doesn't it? Makes you wonder what kind of stories that ol’ cowboy has brewing, just like that jug. Editor: It really does. I’m now wondering how much is imagined. He seems a little *too* perfect almost, you know, to be just a straight up snapshot of a cowboy taking a break. Art Historian: "Perfect" is a tricky word in art, isn’t it? There's that touch of idealization—the "romantic" side of the cowboy myth that makes it irresistible. You think Blackshear is painting reality or an *idea* of it, huh? Makes one ponder where the art stops and the legend begins... it’s a bit like trying to lasso the wind. But it's Blackshear’s artistry, that ability to flirt between what we know and what we wish were true that makes his paintings captivating. Editor: That’s such a great way of putting it. It’s like, it feels familiar because we know the legend, but Blackshear puts in the little details that make you actually feel something, and relate. Art Historian: Precisely! Always look beyond the image. The real magic is what it awakens in you.