Artist uses Ocala forest as his studio
OCALA (AP) – The world is his idea lab. His home is his canvas.
Charles Whiteman is a thin, cheerful 73-year-old who lives with his 66-year-old wife Patricia deep in the Ocala National Forest.
He is, in his own words, an Artist in the Forest.
He’s not famous. He doesn’t have a Web site, nor a Facebook page. But he loves what he does, and he gets great joy out of showing off his artwork.
Whiteman is a retired painter. He painted houses and rooms and worked with a few Ocala contractors and interior designers. He then turned his business to one of his sons about a decade ago.
But he continued to paint, something he has been doing since age 14.
His philosophy: “If you stay active, you live longer.”
The couple’s doublewide mobile home is transformed to a beautiful showcase with Whiteman’s artwork covering every corner, from windows to the living room to the bedroom.
Their income is limited to their Social Security paychecks and an occasional sale of Whiteman’s paintings in small art shows around town. He tries to sell Patricia’s quilts, too.
But the economy has brought their sales down almost to nothing.
People are spending their money o life necessities these days, not paintings, Whiteman says. Patricia’s quilts are stacking up in her neat quilting room.
“It’s so hard to make them, but nobody wants to buy them,” she says.
But the economy hasn’t stopped either from doing what they love.
“I’ve got two studios,” Charles says with a chuckle. “One inside the house and one outside.”
The outdoors studio is for his big projects: the backdrops of Christmas plays at Moss Bluff Baptist Church, or his artwork for the annual float.
The smaller one, which is a patio transformed to a studio – his own handiwork – is where he does most of his acrylic paintings: nature scenes, animals and anything that captures his eyes, whether it’s a picture in a magazine, a page of a calendar or a photo he took.
Both studios are modest. If he needs heat, he cranks up an old wood stove. No fancy instruments or painting tools.
Whiteman really doesn’t need anything fancy. His imagination is rich, and his creativity is boundless.
When the curtains on a French door kept getting dirty, he removed them, and painted the small squares with roses on a blue backdrop.
When he decided the living room wall needed “something”, he stripped off the wallpaper and painted a mural of a mountain scene.
And when he thought the metal door of the bedroom was too boring, he wood-grained it.
He makes his own frames from what’s available around his home: tree barks, barbed wire, pieces of wood.
His biggest fan is his wife of 41 years.
She points out her favorite paintings. Whiteman sometimes agrees, but sometimes says, “Well, I never really liked that one.”
He used to sell his paintings for $150. Now, he has dropped the price to $100 and even $25.
Sometimes he has to sell his paintings before he can afford the shows’ entry fees. And some of the art shows, he says, have snubbed him and never returned his phone calls.
But that’s OK.
Because sometimes being content is the key to happiness. “I don’t understand why we have to have more,” says Charles, sitting comfortably on the sofa. Patricia nods.
And because in tough times true love conquers all, even if the economy is spiraling down, scandals are breaking and Christmas wish lists are shrinking to one or two items.
“I’m very lucky,” says Patricia. “I have everything. Something to eat. A good husband who loves me. We don’t have much, but we’re happy. I got my honey. I’m OK.”