Biography

Daniel Mark Cassity

The Short Version

  Born in 1965, I grew up in Northeast Louisiana, graduating from Louisiana Tech in 1988, and then spending twenty years in North Carolina after attending partial postgraduate studies at East Carolina University. I began concentrating on still lifes in 2006, developing my Kingdom concept around 2011 with origami dragons at its core. I am a visual storyteller, and The Kingdom is my imaginary world revealed in paint. As an ambassador of contemporary still life, I hope to demonstrate that the genre can be vibrant, relevant, and exciting! I now reside in the Ouachita Mountains of central Arkansas, Hot Springs, with my wife Diana, Dragons, Trolls, and Cats.

  A few highlights from my resume include the Society of Illustrators National Scholarship Competition (as an undergraduate student). I have since participated in The Artist’s Magazine’s Annual Art Competitions, Oil Painters of America’s National Exhibitions, the Art Renewal Center’s International Salons, and the International Guild of Realism's Annual Exhibitions. I also exhibited in the national museum exhibitions American Still Lifes, and the International Guild of Realism's Museum Masterworks Tour. I have three paintings in the permanent collection of the R.W. Norton Museum of Shreveport, LA., and have received national and international awards such as the Richeson 75 Still Life Competition "Best of Show", Art of the Heartland, Art Show International (still life), and Best Art Awards (still life). In print I have been promoted in American Art Collector, featured in Southwest Art Magazine, The Artist’s Magazine article “The Kingdom of the Origami Dragon Guy”, highlighted on the cover of Juxtaprose Literary Magazine, Manifest’s international publications, and The Idle Class magazine (cover and feature). The Art Kingdom of Daniel Mark Cassity was awarded best documentary short at the Persistence of Vision film festival.

The Long Version

Goosebumps

     I was born wired with the Maker's Spirit; from the start I just had to make things. I would busy myself with drawing, modeling clay, and construction paper, but almost anything would do in a pinch. Simply put, I have always been most satisfied when making things of my own choosing and remain driven to do so as an adult. For reasons I cannot fully explain, I have always been sustained by a sort of inherent confidence in this area. Conversely, during the very few occasions where this self-assurance seemed diminished, my experience has been frighteningly unfamiliar. If dark moments are the enemy, art is my vigilant sentinel. Likewise, if there is a "key" to my happiness, it is staying in touch with eight-year-old Dan: my core. Loved ones aside, artwork is the only thing that has provided me with sheer joy - goosebumps, in fact - and continues to allow me to visit those grandest of ever-elusive notions: meaning and purpose. Art explains me, I think, and I obsess over it, which strikes me as perfectly sensible. 

     Speaking of obsession, as any visit to my studio will demonstrate, I instinctively order what is around me to my liking, surrounding myself with not only tools, but also things intended to inspire or amuse. I suspect that this instinct is the same that compels me to visually organize my Kingdom paintings, as they are obviously staged, organized, and fussed over.

Science & Fantasy

     I was also attracted to science from an early age, and maintain a huge appreciation for scientific method. Given that, and that I do not participate in forms of magical thinking, I am a "man of science" in that way. There is even a bit of playful mad scientist vibe to my studio. I believe this is because I am attracted to Big Ideas (in any form). I am, however, mathematically inept. Just be sure I would have done important scientific stuff - BIG - if only I were capable of adding (beyond stink to a sock). 

     Speaking of Big Ideas, I remain captivated by the fields of astronomy and paleontology. As a child I dreamed of digging up a stegosaurus and did my best to go about it after school, or sometimes during recess. Being in Louisiana, however, (and visiting rock laden Arkansas) I did not understand at the time why I only found sea shell impressions and the like. I have a modest collection of found fossils and bought replicas, and you might encounter them within my Kingdom. I also wore out the Space section of my World Book Encyclopedia, made models of space craft, and stared at the moon through a cheap telescope. Let's sum up by simply saying that I am, as a blinking bystander can only be, a science fan.  

     Also speaking of Big Ideas, I have an equal appreciation of fantasy - not necessarily swords and sorcery - but the act of imagining. Hence, while my Kingdom may touch upon things scientific, they are usually wrapped in fantasy. It is also fascinating to me when such vastly different uses of the brain overlap, intersect, as when science fiction/fantasy inspires or anticipates what becomes scientific realty. Specifically, I want to make clear that my fondness for the idea fantastic does not indicate a tendency toward magical thinking, however popular such may be. I do my best not to make claims that I can’t substantiate and am generally nonplussed by those who do. I have adopted this as something of a philosophy, or code, like the steadfast compass of my intellectual ship. I respect rationality as a virtue and value the concept that extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof.  I am a lifelong independent, Free Thinker - an Individualist - and regard magical thinking as the paradigm of the intellectually lazy, the world of the windbag, and the domain of the Fullashittakus Rex. I will, however, entertain playful thoughts on suspect subjects like cryptids, for example (emphasizing playful). If you expect to fit me into a familiar category, you will likely be disappointed. As to my thoughts on Bigfoot? (I thought you’d never ask.) I prefer a Monster in my woods, in fact I (smiling) insist upon it. As to science and art, my common thread is that I am attracted to the notion of possibility, achievement, the fantastic - Big Ideas - but particularly to the power of an individual’s imagination. 

What’s going on in there?

      I have never been so professionally diagnosed, but recognize dyslexia and dyscalculia clearly, and suspect ADD. I also demonstrate obvious signs of OCD and am a lifelong insomniac. Despite being proficient in (non-mathematical) problem solving and analytical thought, Dyscalculia was a big problem in school. The other conditions mostly seemed to be only occasional annoyances, frankly; in fact, I believe some have assisted me creatively. After all, if OCD manifests as obsessing over my work: good. If dyslexia interferes with a normal sequential processing, reversing images, forcing different considerations: good. Insomnia? Well insomnia is just a big Jerk. 

     I also internalize a lot. I don’t like pretentious braggarts, and certainly don’t want to be perceived as one. For this reason - despite having great confidence/pride in my creative work - I have struggled with how to comfortably "toot my own horn" (a professional necessity). I've marveled at Muhamad Ali, for example, declaring "I am the greatest!" without being pelted with rotten fruit, knowing that if I were to do so I would be viewed as big a jerk as insomnia. I don't actually wish to do that, thank goodness, and most recently I have found a comfortable outlet by producing playful promotional videos. 

     Similarly, I attempt to distinguish between confidence and ego: if they are different at all. I internalize in the hopes of improvement, often trying to determine why I am what I am and why I do the things I do; at that, I might just then examine why I am examining myself (dang). This brings us to a point at which I will mention my fondness for absurdity. (I now tuck my thumbs under my armpits, protrude my breast-parts, purse my lips, and ponder the deep depths of my deepness.) “Methinks art,” I say to the wind, “is among humanity’s greatest achievements - a noble pursuit - with glorious, worldwide results!” Hmm, might just keep that. 

     Being an artist requires self-examination. We are unquestionably self-absorbed as creative entities, but that is unavoidable; to be sure, I obsess over my work. Most simply put, one must dig internally deep - vulnerably deep - find something worthwhile, hopefully special, and then give it away. Producing artwork is intensely personal. We must value ourselves without being given to self-satisfaction, or wallowing in self-indulgence. We should celebrate every hard-fought victory without dwelling upon them. The distinction for me is that I do not need attention focused on me, but rather my work. At least that's the way I see it. Then again why listen to me? I don't have a badge or anything (I mean, I do, but I bought it at a flea market). 

A Good Start

     My earliest memory of independent painting, a “plein air” landscape in acrylic, was done around age nine. From thirteen to fifteen I received private instruction from Anne Goss Nelson of Bastrop, Louisiana, who challenged my perceptual rendering with the familiar “paint what you see” representational notion, introducing color theory with oil, watercolor, and pastel. I wish I could show her my current work. Validation followed with the winning of local art competitions. In fact, at thirteen, I sold my first painting to The News Star (newspaper) of Monroe, Louisiana, after winning a student competition they had sponsored, for the grand sum of $35. Accelerated public school programs accepted me, as did a summer retreat for young art students and musicians. 

     A B.F.A. was next from Louisiana Tech University. I initially studied Design and Watercolor, then Graphic Design/Illustration, being accepted into the Society of Illustrators’ 1986 Annual Scholarship Competition and Exhibition in New York. Shortly after, I committed fully to a Fine Art degree. These were fruitful exploratory years, and so I then chose East Carolina University for postgraduate studies in the fall of 1988, thinking I might lean toward teaching on the university level. In the early nineties, however, my desire to teach faded, and so I withdrew from graduate school after two years. 

Rookie Mistakes of a Spelunker

     Along with some positive results, I also did every dumb thing a young artist could do - deeply embarrassing, mind-boggling stuff you’d barely believe - but I know you don’t want to get bogged down in such minutia here, so let’s just move on. By the mid-nineties, and artistically speaking only, I was doing the equivalent of living alone in a cave. Having no intention of plucking low-hanging fruit, I isolated myself artistically for around fifteen years in order to discover the most special thing I had to offer. You see, I was good at many artistic things, working in many styles on many subjects, but nothing had taken center stage. I had a landscape folio, a few abstract folios, a fantasy folio, a realism folio, and more (I also had begun to write speculative fiction). It was too much to manage. I did not interact with other artists. I had to find what was, to the extent that any such thing can be, most purely mine. 

     Along the way I consigned paintings to various galleries, competed sporadically, and engaged in commission opportunities, a highlight being working on location on St. Thomas and St. John U.S.V.I. in 1993. I also sold fine art to such corporations as Pepsi Bottling Co. and Burroughs-Wellcome of Greenville, North Carolina, the M.C.V. Hospital of Richmond, Virginia, and later, Atlanta Foods International. 

     I never expected to become a still life specialist. Within said cave however, in April of 2006 I began fully concentrating on the genre, completely oblivious that there was already underway a realism revival in the art world (no foolin’ {but what else would you expect from a cave man}). But why still life? I recognized possibilities. I could challenge my imagination as to creative content - go beyond the fruit bowl, so to speak - and in time I was back to being the little kid constructing scenes (as I once did with cut paper and modeling clay), only now I would construct props to serve my paintings. Same motivation, different result. I also knew that the genre was perfect for demonstrating my highest level of representational painting skill. The truth is that I had always considered myself highly capable in that area, but also had to admit that I had not fully proven it, and still life presented a perfect opportunity to do so. Rather than feeling limited I felt challenged! It sounded like just what I was looking for. 

     Almost from the start I began utilizing tools and techniques from the faux finishing world, which would ultimately develop into what I now call Stipple Glazing; all in keeping with my mission to distinguish myself among so many tremendous painters. I did not invent this technique, but did develop my version of it over time in isolation, arriving at it “honestly” so to speak, in that I was painting in ways I had never seen before. This process eliminates brushstrokes altogether, offering dynamic edges, softness, textures, and atmosphere. With that, a major, necessary career key fell into place: an instantly recognizable surface to my paintings - part of what comprises style.

     My still lifes quickly garnered attention. “Huh,” I thought, then (and there should be an angelic choir inserted here) I stepped out of my metaphorical cave, shook the stale dust from my tattered, paint-flecked garments, ran a few dirty fingers through my mussed up cave-hair, and with the warmth of the rising sun upon my weary face, drew deeply a breath of endless possibility. 

Intersections (or Enter the Dragons)

     I returned to Louisiana after twenty years in North Carolina. Then something unexpected happened; I crossed paths with an old friend from Louisiana Tech days - Diana Garrison, a designer/artist/gel-printing specialist - and we got together as a couple (eventually married). In the meantime, I noticed Diana’s son, Jonathan Slocum, folding an origami dragon. I mentioned to her privately, “I’m going to use that,” yet it was probably six months or more before I was finally able to conceptualize exactly how. And so near the end of 2011 began my Kingdom series (medieval trumpets) - where origami dragons rule! And like that another major career puzzle piece fell into place.

     I now had a form of subject matter - a Muse, if you like - that was my own, for to my knowledge, origami dragons have never been utilized so in the fine art world. I also knew that, like it or not, any artist (if discussed at all) is going to be summed up somehow, and so I asked myself if I could be content with being referred to as “that origami dragon guy.” It was a new experience to think “yes” in response to such a question. It felt right.

The requisite blah, blah, blah

   A few highlights from my resume include the Society of Illustrators National Scholarship Competition (as an undergraduate student). I have since participated in The Artist’s Magazine’s Annual Art Competitions, Oil Painters of America’s National Exhibitions, the Art Renewal Center’s International Salons, and the International Guild of Realism's Annual Exhibitions. I also exhibited in the national museum exhibitions American Still Lifes, and the International Guild of Realism's Museum Masterworks Tour. I have three paintings in the permanent collection of the R.W. Norton Museum of Shreveport, LA., and have received national and international awards such as the Richeson 75 Still Life Competition "Best of Show", Art of the Heartland, Art Show International (still life), and Best Art Awards (still life). In print I have been promoted in American Art Collector, featured in Southwest Art Magazine, The Artist’s Magazine article “The Kingdom of the Origami Dragon Guy”, highlighted on the cover of Juxtaprose Literary Magazine, Manifest’s international publications, and The Idle Class magazine (cover and feature). The Art Kingdom of Daniel Mark Cassity was awarded best documentary short at the Persistence of Vision film festival.

  Currently

     From our Hot Springs home in the lovely Ouachita Mountains of central Arkansas, our little kingdom, I am now fully immersed in my still life studio: The Dungeon. I am ever surrounded by props, some used repeatedly, others patiently awaiting their chance on stage. In addition, I also offer Tales from The Kingdom, very brief fiction written to complement each painting - the inverse of how illustration complements literature. 

     So that’s a bit of who I am: a maker of things, a painter, a storyteller, a science fan, a writer, a caveman. Though I was a (steroid-free) bodybuilder, resembling Tarzan in my younger years, I now resemble an old frog with a turkey neck. I’m a frustrated target archer, and may be so called. I’m a mediocre-at-best guitar player, but effective singer/songwriter/producer (don't call me a musician, as that would insult real musicians). Out of promotional necessity, I am now a video producer. I like to fish, but don’t call me fishy. The very idea of hair-dos amuses me; call me whatever that means. I think the word salve is funny. I’m an individualist, call me that anytime. Call me mathematically challenged. I cannot speyall either. Call me Puddin’ Tane only if you absolutely must. Call me a biological entity existing on planet Earth; I can certainly live with that. A shy girl in tenth grade once called me an Igmo; she was grinning when she said it. If anyone calls me an artist, I’m simply honored. Call me to a seafood platter anytime - please. I’m a dreamer, you can call me that. Or you might just call me the origami dragon guy.

     Whew! It is difficult summing oneself up so; we are all more complex than a few paragraphs allow, but I suppose I can live with this for now. Anyway, I hope you will have a look at my work, and as I always say, “Should imperfections be perceived, feel free to point, snicker, or whisper conspicuously” (consider this delivered with a stink-eye of epic proportions). I now place one foot upon something defeated, pull thoughtfully at my whiskers, and revisiting the deep depths of my deepness, utter, “and so with my imagination as my compass, I strive to move ever forward... for an artist is an unstoppable force of nature – driven to produce (I raise my arms, fists outward, in a victory pose) - no matter what obstacles arise!” 

     Oh, yeah, now in my sixties (managing eye fatigue, high blood pressure, and diabetes), I have inherited my mother’s essential tremor (stupid name) though it is primarily in my left hand.

D.M. Cassity

PS: I paint with my right hand. It sports a pronounced callus on the knuckle where I anchor it. I also sometimes wear Batman jammies to work.