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“Well, it’s noontime; I’m going to have a glass of wine.”
We’re sitting at the dining room table in the home Gary shares with his wife Karen near East Hope, Idaho. Lake Pend Oreille is just a stone’s throw away, and the view out the window – the water, the mountains, the sun desperately trying to nd a way out of the clouds – is distracting. Worse, it turns out Kaemmer doesn’t really like to talk about his art.
We’ve covered his childhood, his family, his college experience at the University of Denver where
he majored in advertising design, his career as a successful commercial artist. But his work since then? On that subject, Kaemmer is surprisingly guarded.
So when he suggests opening a bottle of wine, I’m all for it, if only because I gure it’ll loosen his tongue a bit. It doesn’t.
“I’m a normal guy,” he says, almost apologetically. “I’ve led a very conventional life. Caravaggio – now there was an artist. He was in jail; he was running from the law; he even murdered somebody. I’ve never been in jail, never stabbed anybody.”
Even when he talks about his days as a hired gun, he’s liable to speak more in terms of craft than creativity.
“I could do anything,” he says. “Cartoon work, air brush, serious illustration, portraits, anything. They’d say, ‘Kaemmer, can you rip o Peter Max?’ ‘Yeah,’ I’d say. ‘When do you need it?’” That, he says, is how you make money in the ad business.
There is, however, one stereotypical artistic trait Kaemmer will admit to having: a tormented soul.
But, he’s quick to add, he’s just better at hiding it. “Wait a sec – you have a tormented soul?” I ask. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Drawing pictures for 30 years? Normal people don’t do that.”
Kaemmer has a theory: If you’re totally content
and well-adjusted, don’t bother trying to create
art. “How many salesmen do you know – with the pension, the nice yard, the place at the lake – who do good art?” he asks. “None. Because they’re too happy. It’s true. You’ll never create anything interesting or important if you’re content. How many great artists come out of Hawaii? It’s too pleasant and comfortable there. If you’re not miserable, you don’t have any insight into anything.”
And therein lies the paradox. Here’s a man who admits to living the lonely, solitary existence of an artist; who, despite a warm and engaging personality, thinks of himself as essentially anti-social; whose home and studio are bursting at the seams with
his paintings, drawings, and sculptures. Yet Gary Kaemmer doesn’t see himself as an actual artist. And it’s not false modesty – it’s honest-to-God humility.
“I do pictures,” he says. “That’s all. I try not to think about it. I don’t want to intellectualize it.”
Karen, listening in, rolls her eyes. Her assessment is more direct: “He’s just ridiculously critical of his work.”
Some of Kaemmer’s earlier illustration work includes a poster promoting Aspen, Colorado and a print advertisement for MasterCharge.
“If you’re not miserable, you don’t have any
insight into anything”.
MONET
While Kaemmer likes Claude Monet (1840–1926), he believes the artist was a bit over-exposed. “He was an icon in his own time,” he explains. “That kind of success means it’s harder to critique your own work. Which means you’re not always making great art.”