I think I’m creative. I think this view of myself was influenced by other people, because people pointed out that I had certain skills, or that they were impressed by my ability to do things like draw. I might not have noticed this if someone hadn’t mentioned it, because it just seemed to come naturally to me. I didn’t know there were other ways of being. When I was about 15, I drew a Coke bottle in school. The adults around me were amazed that I could draw this from memory, and said that they would not have remembered the shape of a Coke bottle. How can you not remember the shape of a Coke bottle?

It makes me think that people go through their lives never looking at things. Never noticing.

I wonder what they see when they look at the world, if they don’t even know the shape of a Coke bottle.

I never tried to remember it. I had held them in my hands. I had drank Coke from them.

A Coke bottle is part of our culture. It’s one of many common, everyday objects that have a function.

This is what I mean by culture. The way we live. This form or stage of civilization that defines the period and place in which we live. It includes our language and our clothes.

I have a feeling that pretty much everyone regards their culture as the best one, and as stable and entitled. I guess that’s because it’s familiar. Anything else is foreign and not as good.

I don’t feel that way, maybe because I’ve had the privilege of living elsewhere, in other cultures. But I digress.

My culture makes its way into my creative expression. It’s my springboard and my foundation. It structures my thoughts. I’m a product of my culture.

I’m lucky to live in a beautiful small town that appreciates and supports artists. This also influences my artistic life, because my work has somewhere to go, and for what it’s worth, I am recognized as an artist. I am known. In a culture within a culture, I am Grand Marais Minnesota artist Tim Young.

I’m an emotional person. I wasn’t always. I cry easily. It doesn’t mean I’m sad. I don’t paint my emotions. I think my emotions are indicators for me. They indicate authenticity. They often accompany sleep deprivation, inspiration, joy and sometimes grief.

Emotions ride near the surface. I let them come and go. Things have to seep in deeper before they get into the paint.

The main person I paint for is me.

Everyone will regard my artwork differently. While painting is a visual language, it’s not spelled out in words and punctuation. You may never know my specific intent or my exact motivation, and so the work must speak for itself. I bring my story when I paint it, and you will come to it with your story, too. You can ask me, and I’ll be glad to talk with you about it. I hope you’ll be open to talking with me, too.