About the Artist

There’s a storm raging outside right now. Wind, rain, the occasional dramatic roll of thunder. Mother Nature putting on a show.

When I look outside and see the clouds boiling and the trees bending in it all, I feel a little closer to the natural world. All of it reflects the things going on inside me, things I can’t articulate with words. Staring at the ocean has the same effect, or watching a bird flit from branch to branch. Surely you can see the same things, if you look.

My name is J.T. Sweeney. I’m an artist living and working in southeastern North Carolina. I draw (graphite, charcoal, colored pencil) and paint (oils, acrylics, watercolors). There’s no real reason to limit myself, but I most often choose wildlife, landscapes, and seascapes. I believe John Ford had it right when he said a human face is “the most interesting and exciting thing in the whole world.” Truly, there is no greater satisfaction I have felt than the moment when I make a mark that transforms a portrait from a drawing of a person into a perfect encapsulation of one specific person.

There was probably a time when I didn’t draw or paint, but I can’t remember it: superheroes and spaceships, cartoon characters, houses, faces, animals. Countless classes and work meetings passed by while I doodled (my God, how many acres of doodles have I created?). But it’s not just the act of desperate boredom.

Instead, creating art has always been my way of processing the world around me—the beauty and the sadness and the silliness of it all. It all goes by really, really fast. A sketch or painting is my way of freezing the moment so I can take the time to properly contemplate all the big, complex stuff the universe has to offer. That’s why I carry a camera nearly everywhere with me. Cloud formations are fleeting things, but some of them are so lovely I snap a photo. That way, I can study the way they scatter light and maybe borrow some of that loveliness for a later painting.

Creating art also situates me inside a tradition that goes back to those cave paintings in Spain and France and Indonesia. Tens of thousands of years ago, someone left their mark on the only wall space where they knew wind and rain wouldn’t erase it. It was their way of saying, “I was here, and I observed things that resonated, and now I want you to see them, too.” I’m doing the same thing today, casting a piece of myself forward into eternity. Each in our own way, we all are.