Develop your talent, develop your skills. Choose your teachers wisely, seek out those who will support you as you find your own voice. Learn your craft and respect your materials. Expand your creative vocabulary, consider it cross-training. I took both tapestry weaving classes and bead weaving classes to learn more about color relationships.
As a part of our series about “5 Things I Wish Someone Told Me When I First Became An Artist” I had the pleasure of interviewing Sharon Wolpoff.
Award-winning artist Sharon Wolpoff is a multi-faceted American painter who has showcased her work in more than 20 solo and 30 group exhibits. From her studio in Kensington, Maryland, the accomplished artist uses her canvases to create thresholds through which the viewer is encouraged to slow down, tap into an expanded awareness, and, often, take a leap of faith. Whether she is completing a painting, designing jewelry, making prints, running her family’s foundation, teaching a class, or practicing Healing Touch Therapy, the world-renowned artist seeks to illuminate the lives of others.
Thank you so much for doing this with us! Can you tell us the story of how you grew up?
I was born in 1952 to young parents who’d married in 1950. My Mom, Charlotte, the eldest child of Eastern European immigrants, was a housewife. My Dad was a second generation American from a family of merchants, “gift of gab” salesmen and independent women. Both sides were tribal families that lived close to one another, some in Baltimore, others migrating together from Washington, DC to the Maryland suburbs in the ’50s. My sister Adrienne was born in 1954, we’re best friends, and we’re still close to the cluster of cousins we grew up with.
As a young man my father worked in his family’s hardware store. Having taken in a small outboard motor on trade, he noticed that people were renting it out on a regular basis. This would jumpstart his decision to open a marine supply business called “Cap’n Stan’s Boat Center” in downtown Silver Spring in 1955.
Thanks in part to the Boat Store, as well as my father’s adventurous spirit, we would have a second home on the Chesapeake Bay starting in the late ’50s. We spent idyllic summers there, immersed in the slow rhythms of a Southern Maryland beach town. We maintained a second home there until 1985.
My sister and I spent a lot of time with our father. When we were little, Dad would take us out for breakfast on Sunday mornings, usually to the Hot Shoppe or to a (real) diner. Often, we’d go on some kind of adventure, or we’d go bowling or we’d go visit his friend who had a stable. My sister and I loved the horses, and we would eventually become very skilled riders. We were both very close to our father, who was loving, brilliant and an exceptionally creative businessman who enjoyed teaching us about the world. We were also close to our mom, who encouraged creativity by example. She was a beautiful, dynamic homemaker who loved cooking, entertaining and all things cultural.
In 1976 Dad sold the Boat Center and his hobby became his second career. Starting in the late ’50s his hobby had been buying bits and pieces of characterless real estate in downtown Silver Spring, mostly garages. His tenants were generally working men, folks who were his Boat Store customers or the guys he’d have breakfast with at the diner. By virtue of my father’s enthusiasm for his hobby and his desire to teach us what he was learning day to day from his experience, my sister and I got our MBAs at the dinner table. Adrienne began working with Dad in 1977, she now runs the business. I worked in the office with them starting in the late ‘70’s while pursuing my MFA. We’d work together in the morning, have lunch together, and then I’d go over to my studio in Kensington for the rest of the day.
My art training began when I was 7 years old. A neighbor had suggested to my parents that I take Saturday art lessons in the basement school of a local artist, Mariano Eckert. My mother was concerned, given that most of the other children were 12 years old or older, but Mr. Eckert assured her that I would be fine, describing me as being “in my own world”. Under his watchful eye I started painting in oils when I turned 12. Starting at 15 my Saturday art classes were at the Corcoran School of Art. In addition to Saturday art school at the Corcoran, I had the daily opportunity to pursue art in High School. I went to Montgomery Blair in Silver Spring, and the art department had a lot to offer. My terrific art teacher Mr. Klopp nurtured my vision, ultimately helping to guide me to study at his alma mater, American University. The summer of 1969, when I was 16, I was the arts & crafts counselor at Camp Waredaca where I set up the program that (I recently learned) became the model that was followed for years to come. In addition to teaching arts & crafts, I also taught horseback riding.
At 17 I graduated from high school. That summer I began taking life drawing classes at American University during the day and working as a waitress in an ice cream parlor (Gifford’s) at night. I would go on to develop deep professional and personal relationships with the professors I met in AU’s Art Department, where I was encouraged to take the time needed to discover my evolving creative voice. In 1972 I spent my junior year abroad, studying at the Tyler School of Art in Rome, where I fell in love with Italy as well as traveling. It was there that I first learned about printmaking- I fell in love with that, too. Upon arriving in Rome as young students new to the culture we were each placed with a family for our first 2 weeks in Italy, a period described as ‘Homestay’. More than 50 years later I’m still very close with the family with whom I stayed, the Fogli family in Pistoia.
Can you share a story with us about what brought you to this specific career path?
I’ve always been an artist. It’s been a slow, steady, wonder-filled process of discovery. I started painting in oils when I was 12 years old under the guidance of a teacher who taught very formally. Over the years, not only was I taught about how to use the materials, I was also being taught how to see. Learning different crafts, including the craft of painting, required mastering the use of the tools as well as learning how to perceive with greater clarity, utilizing all my senses.
I had the good fortune to have studied with many remarkable teachers, as well as having had gallery representation as soon as I graduated with my MFA, but a big turning point for me was earlier on, when I got my own studio.
While starting work on my MFA in 1979, my father gave me a space in one of his buildings in Kensington to use as an art studio. I thought that this space was heaven! I would later learn that my father was somewhat baffled by my being an artist, telling my sister “I don’t know why she does what she does but I want to give her every opportunity to do it”. As mystified as he may have seemed, at heart he really understood the need for a private space dedicated to doing one’s own creative work. Thanks to his generosity on many levels, his gift of a studio space provided me with the freedom to develop my talent as well as the room to expand creatively.
I’m still in the same space, but I now have the entire top floor of the building. And I still think that this space is heaven.
Can you tell us the most interesting story that happened to you since you began your career?
There was a moment when I was at a crossroads in my career.
After breaking up with a boyfriend, my father saw that I had too much time on my hands so he suggested that I go to Law School, as it would help support my work in our family’s real estate management business. When I was accepted into American University’s Washington College of Law, my dad told me that he didn’t care whether I ever practiced law a day in my life, but he wanted me to know how to hire an attorney. I did have a short, but distinguished, legal career, clerking for Montgomery County Circuit Court Judge Jim McAuliffe, who would become one of my very best friends. I am a member of the Maryland Bar, passing on the third try, but I do not practice law at this time.
So in 1984, the cancer-related death of my father at the age of 53, coupled with having flunked the Bar exam twice, found me at a crossroads. My time had recently been divided between law school, my art studio and helping to care for my ill father. I was in my early 30’s and I had to ask myself “what do you really want to do?”.
I realized that I had a blueprint to follow, one created by my pal Paul Reiser. We’d met many years before, when he was 15 and I was best friends of one of his older sisters. I’d remembered that there came a time in Paul’s life when he faced a similar kind of crossroads. After he graduated from college, he was working in his family’s health food distribution business in New Jersey during the day and going into the city (NYC) in the evenings to perform at comedy clubs. He realized that he was at a crossroads in his life when, even though he was an executive being groomed to take over this huge family business, he preferred to run the simple errands which required him to drive between the various warehouses. He said that it dawned on him that the only time he felt like he was in control of his life was when he was driving. Recognizing the conflict he felt, he made the decision to take a leave of absence from the family business, move to Los Angeles for 2 years and commit himself wholeheartedly to being a comedian, during which time he’d either get it out of his system or he’d find his way in show business.
Following Paul’s blueprint, I decided to commit myself to 2 years focused on my artwork. I figured that I would either get it out of my system or find my way in the world as an artist. Subsequently, one opportunity after another opened for me, including, grants, fellowships, exhibitions and connections with incredible people. Phil Desind, the director of the gallery that started representing me right out of grad school in 1981, referred to my having gone to Law School as my “lapse”. His gallery continued to represent my work until they closed in 1997, shortly after his death.
My path ahead became clear, my place was in the studio. And Paul Reiser acquired several pieces of my artwork for use on his tv shows, including the NBC hit “Mad About You”.
What are some of the most interesting or exciting projects you are working on now?
I’ve had several solo shows over the last 10 years and I’m pausing to catch my breath. It’s a very exciting time for me because I now have the opportunity to immerse myself in developing new work- I’ve been provided with the gift of time. In addition to painting, I’ll be doing printmaking at Lily Press as well. Given that I approach my work as a discovery process, this is a rich time of personal exploration for me.
I’m also learning to speak Italian. There’s a residency in Italy on my horizon for 2025, and given my love of Italy, I’ll enjoy refining my language skills.
Who are some of the most interesting people you have interacted with? What was that like? Do you have any stories?
One summer in the late 1990’s I was flying to Italy for an artwork residency in Umbria, changing planes in Frankfurt. My Lufthansa flight was relatively empty, with just a few of us in Business Class, as it was the 4th of July. Back then planes weren’t packed the way they are now. Boarding was almost complete when suddenly, I had an overwhelming, unexplainable sense of being uplifted, a tangible feeling of elation. My heartbeat quickened. I looked up to realize that the Dalai Lama and his entourage were filling up Business Class. I felt the Dalai Lama’s incredible presence before I saw him come onboard. He walked by and took a seat a few rows ahead.
My only direct interaction was with the young monks accompanying him. They were beautiful, simply radiant in their crimson robes. As the overnight flight gave way to morning we lined up for the restroom, toothbrushes in hand. We laughed with one another, sharing the moment as fellow travelers.
That elation I initially experienced in the Dalai Lama’s presence is still within me today.
Where do you draw inspiration from? Can you share a story about that?
My inspiration is my day-to-day life. My work is all reality based; I respond to what’s in front of me. I’m like a detective in a perpetual state of looking for clues. Sometimes the very act of creating inspires me because there’s an intensely pleasurable aspect to the doing of it. I love to manifest things. Often what inspires me is the desire to discover more about someone or something or about a process itself. For example, I’ve been inspired by the process of mourning, facing it head-on to move thru of the shock of grief. There’ve been several profound losses in my life recently, so I’m discovering that by creating art which transforms loss into something sacred, I’m able to navigate the mourning process on my own terms. I won’t minimize the struggle, but the discovery process involved here taps into that same miraculous alchemical process which transforms lead into gold.
I’ve always been attracted to the play of natural light. Once I began to paint, I noticed that the interplay of light and shadow could ignite the most ordinary setting, revealing an inherent beauty. My work is representational, which provides me with an extraordinary opportunity to observe and access that beauty, or life force. Once accessed, I like to respond by first establishing a strong composition, then proceeding to explore further by virtue of color.
The theme of light dominates my work, both literally and figuratively. Light often appears as a compositional component in my paintings. Given that my work is reality based, I tend to respond to what’s in front of me. For example, what was in front of me when I started working on my MFA in 1979 was an otherwise empty studio, a chair against a wall and a window through which light streamed against that wall. That became the basis for my thesis- the play of light in interior space. I began using Polaroids to isolate those light patterns, crafting my paintings by referring to the photos as well as observing the ‘real life’ interior of my studio. Yet while traveling in Italy, I observed that the light of a holy icon had nothing to do with natural light, its light appeared to come from within. Empowered by that observation, I also aspire to bring the mysterious quality of inner light to my artwork.
My prep work, whether for painting or printmaking, is in the form of small collages. For me, the act of making a collage involves deconstructing an image then reconstructing it in bits & pieces to form the new image, all done by hand. This shattering process provides me with an image into which more light can penetrate.
Thematically, my work has the quality of memoir to it. About twenty-five years ago I took a memoir writing class in Assisi (Italy) with Vivian Gornick, where I leaned that memoir writing is based in truth, but that the truth can be distilled. It’s not journalism. One principle of memoir that inspires me in an ongoing fashion is using the material of my life to express larger ideas, rather than just telling my story.
How have you used your success to bring goodness to the world?
Affirming the connection between healing and the arts, I welcome the opportunity to exhibit my work at medical and educational institutions. Currently “Recollections” fills the Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Center at Georgetown University Hospital, where I’d also shown my work in 2017. In addition, an exhibition of my paintings entitled “Thresholds & Sacred Spaces: Glimpses of Italy,” was recently on view at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland. Supporting the notion that true artistic inspiration goes directly from the eyes to the heart to the hands, I promote the healing power of art and encourage everyone to explore the pleasure of art making.
Outside of the studio I’m the Grant Director for the Wolpoff Family Foundation. Established in 2007 by my (late) Uncle Harry Wolpoff, the Foundation champions organizations of great vision that create opportunities for others to do well in the world. A philanthropist at heart, I also support others in understated ways, often by donating my time or my artwork. It’s tremendously rewarding to be able to give back to a world that has been so supportive of me.
What are your “5 things I wish someone told me when I first started” and why. Please share a story or example for each.
1. Show Up. Being an artist or “creative” is a discovery process. Recognize that the need to create is your way of being in this world. Pay attention to yourself and to the world around you, see what’s there, become a great listener (people will love you for it). Develop discipline, learn to focus. I’m in my studio 6 days a week, whether I’m actively working or simply puttering. Some days will seem more productive than others, as your creative energy ebbs and flows, but once you’ve tapped into that resource it will support you. Quoting Robert Henri, “The object isn’t to make art, it’s to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable.”
Develop your talent, develop your skills. Choose your teachers wisely, seek out those who will support you as you find your own voice. Learn your craft and respect your materials. Expand your creative vocabulary, consider it cross-training. I took both tapestry weaving classes and bead weaving classes to learn more about color relationships.
2. Self-care. No kidding, take good care of yourself! Being an artist is a long game. Eat well, sleep well, choose your thoughts well. Exercise regularly, go for walks or swims or stand on your head (your body will thank you). Don’t forget to breathe. Become part of a creative community, have at least one good friend. Take time off to recharge yourself, body & soul. Time is your greatest asset, respect your time as well as that of others. Learn to become financially responsible, and don’t hesitate to get help if you need to learn how to develop these skills. Have other sources of income, whether a job, grant money or generous family. Not everyone is an art teacher, my long-term side job is being a landlord. Many artists I know are the savviest of investors because they know that financial stability will ’buy’ them more time to pursue their art.
3. Be kind. Treat people fairly and expect to be treated fairly, we’re all in this together. You never know when something you’ve created will touch someone else’s eternity. There will be folks who will recognize your value and folks who won’t, and you’ll encounter both. As you develop the skills to present your work and yourself to the world, be sure to remember who you are, because when a pickpocket sees a saint all they see are the pockets.
4. Document your work. It’s easy to do these days, given technology and the availability of on-line programs. The threshold issue is being organized about it. There are photographers who specialize in photographing artwork who will provide you with images of each piece, in assorted sizes. This will be important if your work is being considered for a show, a grant, a print publication or gallery representation, or for use on your own website. Often when someone is assessing your artwork on-line, they spend just seconds going from image to image, so be sure that your documented work looks its best. Of course, you can also learn to document your own work but take the time to learn to do it well. In our business, images are currency, so this is one area where you don’t want to cut corners.
I would also encourage you to keep some version of an inventory. I learned early-on to number my paintings on the back and keep track of the relevant information. There are computer programs and photo inventories for this now, but I still use a notebook. I love being organized, so I’ve established specific systems for keeping track of paintings, prints, collages and drawings. It’s worth the extra effort involved out of respect for the work.
5. There’s always something next. There just is.
You are a person of great influence. If you could inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be? You never know what your idea can trigger. 🙂
Nourishment is a recurring theme in my work. I’ve found that people tend to let their guard down over a meal, where interactions glide back and forth between ritual formality and breezy family shorthand, so a lot of my imagery is of people at the table. The nourishment sought may be literal or metaphorical. When I do collage studies for these “at the table” pieces I’ve usually cut and pasted the people at the table closer to one another, which I realize is an overt gesture towards intimacy. I think we’re in a culture these days where people are often overfed and undernourished on many levels, so I’m aware of how important it is that we nourish ourselves spiritually as well as at the table.
We need to take the time to enjoy one another’s company at the table.
We have been blessed that some of the biggest names in Business, VC funding, Sports, and Entertainment read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US whom you would love to have a private breakfast or lunch with, and why? He or she just might see this.
I would love to share a meal with the stellar memoirist and poet Mary Karr. Her ability to communicate inspires me, and I am in awe of her inherent curiosity. I’d like to sit in on one of her classes, I sense that she is a knock-out of a teacher. I love learning, so I’d part company with a useful new skill or two, I bet. I appreciate the way she reminds us “creatives” that our work is challenging, no matter what the mode of expression, but it’s also oh so rewarding… all the while beseeching us to never ever give up.
What is the best way our readers can follow you on social media?
https://www.instagram.com/wolpoffstudios
https://www.facebook.com/sharonwolpoff
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6YcEuN3pm4 YouTube Studio Visit (6 minutes)
https://www.wolpoff-familyfoundation.org/
This was very inspiring. Thank you so much for joining us!
Thank you for the opportunity!
Sharon Wolpoff: 5 Things I Wish Someone Told Me When I First Became An Artist was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.