Art Series: Landscapes of Whimsy

  • Willing To Relocate

    “Willing To Relocate” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    When Kim and I decided to move to Madison after we got married, neither of us had jobs or job prospects for that matter. I’m sure some people thought we were crazy.

    Kim and I didn’t have to leave home. It was fine, and it offered an opportunity. But we wanted an adventure to call our own, and suspected that the life we wanted to live would require a change of scenery. 

    And so we were willing to relocate.

    We had to leave behind that which was familiar in order to grow into who we were meant to become. We picked Madison, but in our case, the need to move away from our comfort zone was more important than the actual location itself.

    Sometimes we have to be willing to relocate to make our dreams come true. Of course, that might mean moving across town or across the country.

    But it might mean moving into a different group of friends.

    It might mean moving from where our customers are today to where they will be tomorrow.

    It might mean moving into a new way of seeing ourselves, perhaps from the role of victim to that of victor.

    When I was a brand new speaker, Kim and I helped form a mastermind group with a few of our peers, talented people at a similar stage as us. We had the harebrained idea to invite Robert into our group. Robert was a true pro that we all looked up to. He’d been speaking for years and had a thriving business. We never thought he’d actually say yes. 

    He did. 

    The thing that impressed me most about Robert was his openness to new ideas. He shared hard-earned lessons, but never paraded the fact that he was further along than any of us. He looked at us as true peers. He was always curious and open to our ideas. He regularly asked us for our opinions and was eager to try out our suggestions. 

    I remember thinking that when I grew up and got really successful, I wanted to be like Robert. 

    Here’s the thing. I now see that he wasn’t patronizing us; he was smart. He knew that in order to grow his business and get better as a speaker, he couldn’t stay where he was. He had to be willing to relocate. 

    Sadly, the reason he stood out is that his attitude is rare. I’ve seen many speakers – and businesses for that matter – slowly fade into oblivion and irrelevance because pride held them back. They already knew it all. They weren’t open to a new path.

    Robert was successful. But he wasn’t about to settle.

    If you are not satisfied with your life as it is now, you have to be willing to relocate from where you are now to where you want to be.

    If you want to experience the summit, you have to say goodbye to sea level.

  • Enjoy the Ride

    “Enjoy the Ride” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD. 🔴 Shop this art!

    This painting was inspired by my family’s trip to Mexico, the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, and thoughts of loved ones who have come before.

    Life can seem like such a slog sometimes. A constant struggle of trying to get ahead, putting out fires, and overcoming one obstacle after another. 

    It can feel like we’re in survival mode, and it takes everything we’ve got just to make it through the day.

    It’s easy to grow tired and become discouraged, maybe even bitter and a little angry.

    This is because we don’t have perspective.

    Our ancestors, who have already traversed this lifespan and have seen what’s beyond, have a different perspective than we do.

    They are now able to see the big picture. They went through the valleys, but their purpose was ultimately revealed. They have the full understanding that the journey is shorter than we realize. Like us, they experienced darkness, but they have received the gift of perspective that allows them to see the beauty in it all. 

    If the loved ones who have gone before us could give us advice, it might just be this: enjoy the ride.

  • Looking for Orcas

    “Looking for Orcas” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    I’ve heard that God always answers prayers. Sometimes the answer is no. Sometimes, he says yes in ways that seem like a no.

    During a family vacation in the Pacific Northwest, one of the things I wanted to see was an orca.

    We heard stories of a mama and her baby being spotted in Puget Sound. We kept our eyes peeled on the ferry ride to Victoria. Our vacation home was on a bay on the Olympic Peninsula, and every wave in the distance seemed like it could be a killer whale in the process of surfacing.

    We never saw one. We could have booked a sightseeing tour, but time and weather, and the ages of our kids conspired against us. Maybe next time.

    As I have reflected on this minor disappointment, and through the act of creating this painting, something occurred to me. God knew I wanted to see an orca, but because he knows me so deeply, he also knew why I wanted to see one, before even I did.

    I had to stop and ask myself, Why did I want to see an orca in the wild?

    I wanted to experience God’s creation in a powerful way.

    I wanted to see something I’d never seen before.

    I wanted to have a remarkable experience with my children.

    I wanted a neat encounter with an animal.

    As it turns out, I did all of those things, and I never saw one orca.

    I marveled at the breathtaking vistas of Hurricane Ridge.

    Our vacation home was on a beach filled with thousands of crabs. Never saw anything like that before.

    Between our mountain hike, the ferry rides, the view from the Space Needle, and a spin on Seattle’s Great Wheel, there was no shortage of remarkable experiences to be shared with my kids.

    And feeding some harbor seals with a $2 bag of fish heads was a pretty neat animal encounter.

    I didn’t get what I asked for. But somehow, I still got what I wanted.

    Time and time again in my life, I didn’t get things that I asked for. 

    I thought I wanted to marry a brunette. God knew what I really wanted was a beautiful, smart, and thoughtful wife who believed in me. He also made her blonde.

    I wanted to use my art to make a living and shine light and goodness in the world. I asked for it in the form of being a professional syndicated cartoonist. That never materialized. But here I am, using my art to make a living and shine light and goodness in the world in a way that I never could have imagined, but I am excited to say is even better.

    Sometimes we miss the answer to our prayers because we’re looking in the wrong place.

  • Imagination Can Take You Anywhere

    “
    Imagination Can Take You Anywhere” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    In my family growing up, I was always the art guy. Today, I make a living painting pictures, telling stories, and writing books.

    My younger brother Dan was the science guy. He now works for a cancer hospital analyzing and improving “systems,” or something structured and boring like that.

    I always saw us as complete opposites, which is how I think most people see art and science.

    Yes, my brother and I are different, but I was also decent at math and enjoyed doing experiments in chemistry class. Meanwhile, he had a pretty good drawing talent that went under the radar. Today, he collects Pearl Jam posters because he appreciates the art.

    I was so locked in to looking at the difference between us that I never noticed the connections.

    Artists are thought of as free-spirited, open-ended, and subjective. Scientists are often viewed as analytical, precise, and objective.

    But Science is not cold, rigid, and unfeeling. Art is not some frivolous, fluffy extra. Believe it or not, they are connected.

    Curiosity and Imagination are the parents of both art and science.

    The same curiosity and imagination that is present when an artist creates a new play, sculpture, or piece of music is present in the best scientists as well. We imagine space travel, and curiosity asks, “How can we make that happen?” We imagine a world without cancer, and curiosity asks, “What hasn’t been tried on this particular strain?” Curiosity asks, “How can we become more energy independent?” and our imagination gets to work on thinking up a whole bunch of possible solutions, ranging from the far-fetched to the less so. Sometimes solutions are hidden within an idea that seems completely preposterous.

    This painting was inspired by my first trip to Vancouver, and by a quote often attributed to Albert Einstein: “Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.”

    Imagination is often seen as a peculiar skill set of children and the pastime of daydreamers. Mildly amusing, but hardly practical for a self-respecting adult. Too often, our imaginations fade as we grow older. We stop asking questions and dreaming big. We reward the rule-followers. We search for and obediently follow the best practices.

    But in a changing world, what worked before will not get us to where we need to go. There is no roadmap. No formula. No step-by-step manual to help us succeed tomorrow.

    The well-worn paths we’re used to treading now only lead us astray, to a world that no longer exists.

    So what now?

    We must stop looking at science and art as opposing forces.

    We need to realize that we are all artists. Working in paint, charcoal, or clay is not required.

    And likewise, we are all scientists. Even if we don’t wear lab coats.

    If you are stuck, or have a sneaking suspicion that things could be better in your life, your relationships, or your organization…you are right.

    The way forward is to imagine a better reality, the future we wish to create. And then we tinker our way there, by trying things that might not work and using what we learn to guide our next steps — even small steps — forward.

    Imagination. It’s not just a plaything for children.

    Dust yours off. It can take you to some pretty amazing places.

  • Wind In Our Sails

    “Wind In Our Sails” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This painting was inspired by a family vacation to Mexico. One thing that was abundantly clear in the week we were there is that the Mexican people love their color. When you’re accustomed to everything being Pottery Barn beige and gray, it really stands out. 

    I wanted to incorporate that vibrant, whimsical color, along with one of the culture’s great traditions, Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. I think it is a beautiful way to look at the afterlife and the ancestors who went before us. I appreciated the idea of seeing death as a part of the life process, rather than an end in itself.

    I also liked the focus on how much we owe to the people who came before us. In American culture, the independent spirit of the individual is celebrated. That’s fine, as far as it goes. Except that there is no such thing as a self-made man or woman. No one becomes successful by themselves. Yes, your unique talents and a fiery self-determination are key ingredients for success. 

    But life is a group effort. 

    I was thinking about the people in my own life who have passed away. Not just family members, but teachers and coaches who served as mentors, too. Every one of them taught me something that I carry with me to this day. 

    My Grandma K. made me feel like I was special, just as I was.

    My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, encouraged me to take my artistic talent seriously.

    My Little League coach, Mr. Dawson, helped me believe that I was a winner.

    When I was an uncertain teenager, Deacon Vince saw me as a grown-up with valuable contributions to make.

    Each of us is like that tiny sailboat. At times, it can feel like we are drifting, alone, on a vast and overwhelming sea. 

    But we are not alone. 

    We have the wisdom, given to us by the people in our lives who have gone before us, charting our course. They have touched our lives, and their examples live on, showing us the way.

    And their words live on as the wind in our sails, guiding us into a bright and colorful future.

  • The Princess Dress

    “The Princess Dress” by Jason Kotecki. 36 x 36. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This painting was inspired by my daughter.

    Our family loves going on walks. A half mile from our house, there is a row of lakefront homes. A small sliver of land between two of them serves as a public access point to the lake. A few years ago, an hour before the sun tucked itself in for the night, we pushed our strollers through the skinny green passageway to enjoy the pint-sized plot of beach that was ours.

    It wasn’t long before my oldest began wading in the water, delighted by the sand squishing between her toes. Lucy was wearing last year’s Halloween costume — a sparkly pink and yellow princess dress — because, well…just because. The gentle waves kissed the bottom of her gown. I considered telling her to be careful not to ruin it, but reasoned that a little water never hurt anyone.

    Meanwhile, Ben was outfitted in his Incredible Hulk costume — you know, just because — and for some reason, was lying face-down in the sand. Motionless. He looked like a big green sea turtle who had come in with the tide to build a nest. We’d be finding sand on him days later.

    By the time I turned my attention back to Lucy, she was in lake water up to her armpits, princess dress and all! I stood there, in stunned silence, as the supercomputer in my brain whizzed through its vast database in search of some rule frowning upon the intermingling of lakes and princess dresses. (Old Halloween costume or not, that dress wasn’t cheap, and I didn’t want it ruined.) But the warm smile that beamed widely across her face suggested that perhaps this was yet another rule that doesn’t exist.

    In that moment, with the sun setting behind her, I realized that Lucy was living life as well as it could possibly be lived. Too often, we fall far short of this ideal. Why? 

    Because we’re afraid of getting our princess dress wet.

    And we all have one. Our “princess dress” is the carefully curated version of ourselves that we show off to others. It’s the way we look, speak, and act. It’s our degree and our job title, our home and hairstyle, our cars, clothes, and 401ks, all wrapped into one pretty package and tied with a bow that signifies that we are responsible, sophisticated, and successful.

    In order to keep this princess dress looking good, we must live a life of restraint. No full-out running, no sitting on the ground, no eating messy things, and certainly no swimming in lakes.

    We are given countless opportunities to dive headfirst into the experience of life, but we are too afraid to mess up our hair, our clothes, or our reputation. Because running through puddles, making a mess, or doing something silly for the sheer sake of fun sullies the dress we’ve worked so hard to preserve. And besides, people like “us” don’t do things like “that.”

    While settling for good enough, we miss the insanely great.

    Guess what? After the dip in the lake, Lucy’s princess dress went into the washing machine and came out… good as new.

    Fear does a pretty good job of keeping us from living an amazing life. But it’s a horrible predictor of the future.

    Don’t settle for dipping your toes into this adventure called life. For best results, spend more of your time up to your armpits in awesome. 

    Don’t be afraid to get your princess dress wet.

  • The Captain

    “The Captain” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    I present to you a painting I made of a pirate ship sailing in an ocean of milk amidst floating Cap’n Crunch cereal.

    I thought long and hard about conjuring up some deep meaning on this one. Something that would make you shake your head in amazement and say, “Wow. He is a truly brilliant artist and thinker.”

    But you know what? There isn’t any deep meaning. The truth is, I was thinking about Cap’n Crunch cereal, which I love, and thought about a tiny pirate ship sailing in a bowl of it, which would be neat. But then I thought, what if the ship was normal-sized and the whole ocean was milk and it had giant pieces of Cap’n Crunch floating in it? That would be weirder, and possibly neater. 

    So that’s what I did: gave myself over to pure whimsy.

    As we get older, Adultitis takes over and kills our whimsy. We grow increasingly skilled in the art of taking ourselves too seriously. And all that seems to bring us is anxiety, stress, and a life totally devoid of fun. 

    We’ve mastered the ability to make the trivial monumental. We fret about all sorts of things, from gas prices and elections to how we’re going to kill those weeds in the yard and what we should wear to next Friday’s function.

    Becoming more responsible is one thing. But losing our sense of whimsy and taking ourselves too seriously is another. 

    I have long admired people like Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl because they created magical characters and worlds that are so rich with whimsy. Their art depicts preposterous, physics-bending, imagination-stirring images and scenarios that exhibit a ridiculousness that is wholly original and entertaining. Meanwhile, within the context of their art, all of it comes across as completely normal. How did they do that? 

    It can be hard for me to give myself over to this pure, unadulterated nonsense, which I consider to be the unfiltered essence of the spirit of childhood. As someone who often errs on the side of practicality and reason, I have always wished I could be more like Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl. After discovering Adultitis and its evil tricks early in my adult life, I have spent my life trying to get back to that level of creative abandon. Back to normal.

    And yet here I am, having created a painting that exists at least within the same universe as those two greats, frustrated because I cannot come up with words to explain the meaning of this painting. 

    Because there isn’t one. 

    And thankfully, I think to myself, “Well, finally. Some progress.”

    It took a while to become an expert at taking yourself seriously; it will take a while to get back to normal. Give yourself permission to start.

  • Roam

    “Roam” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Starting at younger and younger ages, kids are expected to begin thinking about what they want to do with their lives. I feel bad for them, because between increasing homework loads and more demanding extracurricular commitments, they are given less and less free time to figure out who they are and what lights them up.

    No matter how old you are, a little space to roam can make a big difference.

    After three grueling years producing his show, Sam and Friends, Jim Henson was burned out and ready to give up on puppetry. Then he left for a yearlong walkabout in Europe. He took in puppet performances throughout the continent, impressed by how appreciated the art form was outside the United States. “Until then, I hadn’t taken puppetry all that seriously,” Henson said. “It just didn’t seem to be the sort of thing a grown man works at for a living.” But Henson returned from Europe energized and inspired, and would eventually create The Muppet Show and Sesame Street.

    I like the idea of a gap year, which is typically a period of time taken between high school and college to deepen practical, professional, and personal awareness. I’ve also heard of people taking them mid-career, or married couples who take them when they become empty nesters, to re-establish their relationship as it enters a new phase.

    Every once in a while, we all need a bit of time and space to wander, wonder, and think about what’s next.

    I love this definition of roam: To go to different places without having a particular purpose or plan.

    Here’s another good one: To move about or travel aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area.

    The next step in our life journey is not always evident. Perhaps you are in a season that calls for some aimless travel, even if it’s just spending a few days outside of your normal routine. 

    Sometimes we need to break free from the day-to-day. 

    Sometimes we have to roam a bit to find ourselves.

  • Space Invaders

    “Space Invaders” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Some of you are old enough to remember the Atari video game system. A far cry from the advanced graphics we see in games today. And only one button!

    One of the most popular games was called Space Invaders, which I have featured prominently in this painting. It was a simple concept: you try to shoot as many aliens as you can as they descend down your screen. As the game continues, the aliens descend at an ever-increasing speed. If they reach the bottom, the alien invasion is successful, and the game ends.

    To me, this is a great metaphor for Adultitis, a disease that Kim and I have committed our lives to help defeat. All of you are familiar with this enemy, even if you’re hearing the name for the first time. It’s what happens when you lose your sense of wonder, your curiosity, and your childlike zest for life.

    Quite literally, Adultitis means “swelling of the adult.” And when you’re walking around with too much adult, your life is more stressful and less fun.

    Although I wish there were a magic potion or miracle cure that ended Adultitis once and for all, there just isn’t. Adultitis is always coming after us, just like those aliens. You can blast down a whole screen by going to Disney World, but on your first day back to work, another wave is ready to strike.

    The key, I think, is to look at fighting Adultitis as a game. It’s most deadly when it hides in the shadows, convincing you to take yourself too seriously and getting you to focus on the negative.

    But if you notice where it tries to sabotage you and laugh at its advances, you can diffuse its power.

    Our family has had great fun in acknowledging when Adultitis has gained the upper hand, and we encourage one another to fight back. Extreme cases call for a pajama run or a spontaneous dance party in the kitchen.

    My Dad always says, “Everything happens for a reason.”

    I make it a game to try to figure out the reason. Anytime something bad happens, I start thinking about what good could come from it. What if you looked at the challenges you face like any other game?

    • Instead of looking at making payroll as a life-or-death situation, make it into a game.
    • Instead of worrying about not getting everything done today, make it into a game.
    • Instead of stressing out over how you’ll ever be able to conform to the new regulations in your industry, make it into a game.

    Instead of acting like your current challenge is something found in the bad-tasting medicine aisle, mentally repackage it in primary colors and take it from the toy section. Breathe. Smile. Have some fun with it. By looking at it as a game and clearing your mind of the useless worst-case scenarios, you’ll actually be MORE likely to notice the people, opportunities, and ideas you’ll need to win.

    You may believe that the stakes are much higher now compared to a silly game of Space Invaders. But are they really? With VERY few exceptions, the truth is that our fear of failure is worse than the consequences that come from actually failing. Sure, the project very well might flop, your efforts might go to waste, or someone may laugh at you. You could get rejected, dejected, or fired.

    Sometimes, like the aliens, Adultitis advances past your defenses and wins the day.

    But you know what? The good news is that you can hit reset and start again. Life WILL go on. It’ll be ok. You’ll be able to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get ready for the new — even better! — opportunity right around the corner.

    Are you game?

  • This Ain’t Kansas

    “This Ain’t Kansas” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    As dissimilar as they may appear on the surface, rural Midwestern farmers and rural Asian farmers have some things in common. One is a deep respect for tradition. This is an important value that can provide a sense of stability and help pass on hard-earned wisdom to future generations. 

    But I believe we must also have an openness to new things. Not so that we will abandon our ideals, but so that we can experience a much richer life. 

    It’s like the difference between experiencing life in black and white versus full color, like in the 1939 version of The Wizard of Oz.

    Indeed, doing things the way you’ve always done them, and surrounding yourself with the same people, places, and opinions, is a pretty good way to live life in grayscale. 

    I made this piece as a reminder that sometimes we need to break free from what’s expected. Mashups of east and west, urban and rural, liberal and conservative, old and new, are what make life more interesting. 

    How does one opt for a more technicolor life? Simple: Take a break from your traditions.

    Read a magazine or watch a documentary on something you know nothing about. Order food you’ve never tasted before. Take a new form of transportation to work for a week. Have a conversation with someone who holds an opposite point of view (without trying to convince them they’re wrong). 

    This openness to new ideas, perspectives, and ways of doing things is a key to unlocking opportunities that can change your life.

    I have struggled the past few years trying to find my place. I have been a member of the National Speakers Association for over a decade now, and it has served me well. I have made wonderful friends and have learned a lot about growing a successful speaking business.

    But in recent years, I’ve had a hard time finding relevant examples to model my business after. You see, I have this art thing that I do, which is very unique among the speakers I’ve encountered. Even the ones that incorporate art somehow into their offerings do so in a way that’s totally different than the direction I want to head.

    And so I have spent the better part of the last two years seeking out art-centered business models. I have tried to learn as much as I can from other successful artists. And I’ve learned a lot, but it turns out, most of them aren’t so keen on the whole “speaking in front of large crowds” thing.

    I was frustrated by my failure to find someone who has already done what I am trying to do. Someone who has a roadmap I can follow.

    Until I finally figured out there is magic in the mashup.

    It’s the combination of two seemingly unrelated things –public speaking and making art –that gives me my edge and helps make me stand out. Borrowing the best of what I’ve learned from great speakers as well as successful artists, while mixing in my own unique quirks and talents, has been a game-changer for me. 

    If you’ve been feeling paralyzed by the belief that things have to go a certain way, or if you’ve felt like a square peg trying to force yourself into a round hole, or if life just feels a little too gray…it might be time to mix in some new ideas, experiences, and assumptions. 

    And watch your world change.