Today we’d like to introduce you to Larry Moore.
Hi Larry, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
I’ve often thought about the meandering path of this creative journey from the perspective of my pre-college self. I had no idea where it would lead, but looking back, I see it as a leaf floating down a wide, creative river, finding small eddies and pools to explore along the way. Unbeknownst to me then, I had an internal compass all along.
I knew I wanted to make things from a young age, starting with an airbrush in my mid-teens, painting clothing, murals, and vans. College introduced me to the world of graphic design and a start in advertising right out of college in 1980. I loved the creative problem-solving of the advertising arts but disliked the people, especially the account executives, because they thought like, well, account executives. So, I decided to venture out as a graphic designer and returned to my roots as an artist and illustrator.
In the mid-90s and early 2000s, there was a creative explosion in illustration. We were no longer just a pair of hands rendering literal depictions. To be in the upper tier, you had to be more than just an artist. You had to be a great conceptual thinker, have a unique point of view and style, and have impeccable technique. I was fortunate to be accepted into the Society of Illustrators, NY, as a member and received numerous awards for my work, including the coveted gold medal.
Throughout this journey, I painted for myself to maintain my voice and sanity.
My background in the communication arts provided me with a creative toolset that few artists had. I believed early on that I had an obligation to share what I had learned because it wasn’t taught being taught anywhere, even at the college level. I began teaching at a local college as an adjunct instructor to spread the word but found only a small percentage of the kids would do the work, so I took the show on the road teaching workshops on the creative process through art centers, independent venues, and museums. Eventually, I left the field of commercial art to lead a more fulfilling life as an independent artist and instructor.
We all encountered storms and tumult along the way, and I ran into mine. But, in the middle of the darkest time, I realized I had a greater purpose and began writing. I wrote for two and a half years, putting into words what I knew and used throughout a successful mixed-bag of a creative career: the tenets of innovative thinking, all aspects of it, including understanding the psychology of being an artist, design principles, and the elements of language. I completed the three-year task and felt a publisher would muck it up, so I self-published Fishing for Elephants, Insights, and Exercises to Inspire Authentic Creativity, a workbook for painters and other artists.
Writing codified what I knew and opened up new doors for me as an artist and creativity coach. It also gave me new ways of thinking about the creative process, leading me to write a second book. So, in addition to my life as a painter and instructor, I’ve found myself swirling in yet another creative eddy.
For many of us in the creative arts, it is impossible to know where we will end up, but when we get there, we can see how important the journey is.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Many years ago, I left a steady paycheck as an art director in an advertising agency and had to adjust to the notion of not knowing where and when income would come. Sole proprietorship was a big shift. Fortunately, my background provided a broad skill set in graphic design, illustration, fine art, and, later, as an instructor. My fire in the belly, the joy of creative problem-solving, was a huge driver and I was able to apply my skills in a myriad of ways. Communication arts and fine arts are closely related; the difference is in one, you have a client, and in the other, you are the client.
I found many ways to support myself without lowering my bar. I started by being not just a problem solver but a problem finder. I’d look where no one thought to look. I went to every regional theatrical agency in my area and offered my creative services: the opera, small and large local theaters, dance companies, and the symphony. All said yes. I created art for the opera for ten seasons, the ballet, and several local theaters for five. I applied for 15 public art projects, an arduous process, and won ten.
All of these efforts boosted my public profile, and I only took on the work that I felt would be satisfying creatively. The decisions based on my love of creating actually provided me with more work of this nature.
Throughout this period, I had to trust that something that may not have paid well at the time would pay off down the road. The trust stays with me today. I don’t concentrate on immediate gain, I look way down the road. The decision to spend three years writing and producing a book on the creative process for artists was a huge commitment and a huge risk. What if it didn’t sell? I trusted there would be some positive outcome, and there was. Fishing for Elephants has done very well, and it positioned me as an authority on the subject. My workshops have been full since its publication in 2017.
Adversity and uncertainty are always present, but if we take a long-term view, it’s easier to overcome the obstacles.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
The work I’ve posted here is part of an ongoing series started in 2015 called “Intrusion,” which addresses our relationship with nature. The series asks who is intruding on whom. It started as a straightforward commentary on our abuse of natural habitats but slowly became a commentary on other environmental and personal issues, often moving into allegory and metaphor. I address broader issues like trophy hunting, climate change, extinction and more personal ones like fear, loss, and anxiety. This series really emanated from my love of nature forged in the rivers, islands, and beaches of my youth.
What were you like growing up?
I grew up in the perfect time and place: the ’60s and ’70s in the relatively undeveloped coastal community of Cocoa Beach. My father worked for NASA as an Apollo test manager. Astronauts frequently came to the house to talk shop because they all had a test pilot background, including my father.
We lived on a river across from islands dotted with pines and mangroves, just two blocks from the ocean, and I was in one or the other when I wasn’t in school. It was the great time before technology when we would leave in the morning to explore the rivers, surf, fish, and play in the woods. If a call came for you and you weren’t there, you missed it. We were allowed 2 hours of tv a week, so curiosity was fostered, and inventiveness in the form of play.
My father wanted me to be an engineer like him, my mother fostered the creative spark in me and ultimately won my father over. In college, she signed me up for a 6-week humanities tour of Europe which rocked my world and stoked the fire in the belly.
My exposure to the big world of art and my engagement with nature growing up have permeated my life and work as an adult and is the focus of my work today. I always suggest to my students to examine their upbringing because it can hold kernels of inspiration for their work.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.larrymoorestudios.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/larry_moore_studios/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1042722288
