Guest Artist Judge: Gretl Kleponis

Watch video/listen to podcast of the creative journey of Gretl Kleponis - Judge of the Hudson Global Scholars Fine Arts Competition 

Early Inspiration: The Beginning of a Creative Life

My grandmother painted, and when I was nine, I saw her painting and her paintings and asked if I could do it. Even before school—because we didn’t have art lessons at school—every Saturday, I would go at age nine to my grandmother, and she taught me. I’m not saying that she was a particularly good artist in hindsight, but she inspired me, and I have paintings of hers on my walls here, actually—paintings done by her. That started it, that kick‑started it.

At school, I followed that direction with literature and art and always actually wanted to illustrate children's books, but I became a teacher instead. I had places at art school but found myself out here in Greece and decided not to go back at that point. I went into teaching and hoped I might combine literature and art but never did. At one point, I was teaching and had an art gallery. They ran parallel. I renovated houses along the way—about four houses. Creativity is at the core of it all.

I haven't painted for a couple of years, but I suspect it’s because the houses have taken up the energy. At the workshop and small gallery I had, a trip to India particularly inspired me, and then it led me on to exhibitions that I organized with fellow artists, because I used to hang the work of fellow artists as well. That takes me up to the last few years, when I moved to Corfu, and I’m not focusing on art yet, but will do.

Choosing the Medium: Why Oil Painting Still Calls Me

Oil painting was the very first thing I did at age nine. As I followed courses in art and prepared for art college, pencil work and charcoal became extremely important. I focused very much on that—on line, form, and composition.

I dabbled in watercolor, but oil is a less portable medium—you really have to commit and set up. When I had a more established base, I returned to oils. Not acrylics. Acrylics dry so fast in Greece. Oil is a more forgiving medium. It gives me the ability to be messy, to make mistakes, to use fingers and brushes. It’s a complex medium, more challenging, which I like. It has the forgiving nature that watercolor and acrylics don’t have here. You’ve got to do those right the first time. I like the smell of oil painting, too.

Creativity, Process & Philosophy

I’m never short of material. Even when I’m not painting for a few years, I see a painting everywhere I look. For me, it’s nature. I’d love to learn to do portraits, but at the moment, it’s nature—simple things. It could be something on a table, an empty glass with light catching it, or something I see as I drive. Not so much landscapes—more focused things. I like to focus in so closely that the subject overflows the canvas, giving the imagination something to do.

For me, it’s an emotional reaction to something I see. If I can carry that through, I take photographs myself. I’m not great at painting others’ photographs; I’ve done commissions, but I feel strongly that you lose something. You lose that emotional reaction to the subject itself. That translates into the quality of the work. Your own personal reaction matters.

On Mistakes and the Artist’s Journey

Mistakes—I don’t worry about them. You have to make mistakes. Being too worried holds you back. Pencil, charcoal, and oil are mediums where mistakes can add to the quality. They indicate the journey that brought you to the finished product. People are often scared of mistakes being seen.

Watercolor is trickier because I don’t think you get away with mistakes as much. There is always the fear of the blank canvas. You fiddle with your paints, wash your brushes, sit there—and it comes. You move into that space in your head. Life doesn’t always allow momentum every day, but you must keep going frequently until the piece is finished.

For me, it’s emotion but also learned techniques. Like the old masters, copy at the early stages. You might have the talent, passion, emotion, all the special ingredients, but to produce good art, you need to learn composition and perspective. It can feel like a straitjacket at the beginning, but absolutely you need to learn these techniques. Master them, then move away from them if you’re good enough.

Working with Younger Artists

Though I’ve never worked with young artists specifically, I’ve worked with youngsters as a teacher for 25 years. I’m aware of how young people think. Young people are less burdened by rights and wrongs, and less inhibited. As we move through life, we often become more inhibited. Young artists often have fewer inhibitions and a freshness to their work.

Whether it’s because we try to make money, or become aware of what sells, or start producing what the audience wants rather than what we want, something is lost over time. Young people also have a rebelliousness—more able and keen to break rules. And in art, learning the rules so you can break them is important. Be brave with your art.

Values for Young Artists: Learn Deeply, Then Create Freely

Learn the skills like the old masters—go right back. They are still relevant. With pencil and charcoal, you aren’t distracted by color. Color is the hardest part of art. Pencil and charcoal force you to focus on form and composition.

Composition is extremely important. It’s less talked about, but without good composition, the viewer has no journey through the art. Like writing, you must lead the viewer into the work and let their imagination participate. If the artist gives the viewer everything, the viewer has less to do, and the art speaks less. A piece of art that allows the viewer’s imagination to engage has more dimensions and layers.

Once you master these without color, then you can take on the many complexities of color—gradations, mixing, layering, and the effects those layers create. To me, color is still the most challenging part of artwork.

Judging Artwork: What Stands Out

I’ve never judged artwork formally, but I’ve seen a lot of artwork and chosen who to exhibit. Judging the work of young people, I hope there is a reaction and a feeling. If a piece of art makes you feel something—that’s number one. It can’t be all clinical. It has to evoke something. Any reaction means they’ve caught your eye.

There must be skill as well—passion, talent, and skill. All must be there.

Personal Inspirations

Early on, the Impressionists inspired me. I’ve seen them in Paris, in museums. I like the size of the pieces, the fluidity, the play with color, the looseness of the brushwork. In oils, I like palette knife work and large brushwork; you can get a lot of emotion into that.

The post‑Impressionists, especially Van Gogh and Gauguin, also spoke to me—Van Gogh breaking all the rules, Gauguin with his bravery in color.

How to Begin with “Dear Future Me”

The theme Dear Future Me can go in many directions—so many that it could cause a block. Take a blank piece of paper and write the theme in the middle. Let your imagination run free. Write the first word that comes into your head. Let it ignite other ideas. Write them all down.

You might dismiss many later, but this unblocks the creative flow. Don’t try to jump from theme to final idea in one step. Open doors in your creative mind. For me, writing words works; for others, small sketches might.

Explore whether your idea goes in a dark or bright direction. Spend time on that part—it’s like prepping a room before painting. Don’t underestimate how important that is. Without sorting out your feelings about the theme, your artwork may lack focus and direction. Commit to your theme. Believe in your idea. Sleep on it. Rewrite it. Try again.

And don’t take anyone else’s advice—the me gets lost.

Final Words of Encouragement

There is an artist in nearly all of us. We don’t think there is, but it’s there. When we look around, decorate our homes, hang pictures—creativity is there. Don’t be afraid to let it out. Don’t be afraid of it being judged badly. Don’t hold back. Express what you feel.

Art should never be about the person who is looking at it. Don’t ever paint for the person who looks at it. Paint for yourself.