Autobiography

Randy Loubier grew up surrounded by numbers. As a young boy, his favorite pastime was solving logic and math puzzles. He quite naturally chose to study finance and accounting in college, getting both his Bachelors degree and an MBA in Finance. His career led him through numerous positions in finance and then into general management.

But at the age of 42, he was attending a black tie charity event when he was suddenly overcome with the image of a painting that must be created for the President of the charity (Angel Flight). The image haunted him for days until, at the urging of his wife and with no training, he relented and tried to paint it himself. The self-doubt and anguish of attempting to use his right brain after so many years of relying on his left brain is a story of faith, self-discovery and the power within.

Locked inside, Randy Loubier found an innovative art form that has captivated art collectors across the country. While most artists tend to use color or subject matter to create tension in their paintings, Loubier infuses tension directly into the paint itself.

Thick layers and globs of paint are in apparent movement on the canvas. The energy in the paint contrasts against his peaceful scenes. It is this juxtaposition—the stored energy in the paint vs. the quiet compositions—that draws the viewer deep into the painting.

With over 90 superb color photos of his work, this book is Loubier’s own words of how the discovery of his art happened.

This is an absolute must-read for every budding artist, writer and musician--or anyone who thought they might try a creative field. Furthermore, engineers and accountants will appreciate the humor and pain of a fellow comrade who desperately wanted to break free from the black and white grip of the left brain.

Infused with bits of wisdom from art technique to spirituality, Loubier plumbs the depths of both sides of the brain and urges the reader to find the artist and accountant within themselves. “We all have natural gifts to give to the world—whether you are two, forty-two, or ninety-two—I am cheering you on in your own personal quest.”

I walked out and closed the door. In a few minutes, Judy asked me how it was going.

Judy went in to view the crime scene—the murder of my momentary alter ego. She was sweet. “Okay, it isn’t what you wanted. Put it aside and try it again--you have some more canvases, right?”

I laughed. One of those tired, frustrated laughs. I felt so many feelings all at once. I was all twisted tight like a gigantic rubber band ball. I wanted to believe I could get inside the ball and find that other guy—the artist. I wanted it badly. I had had a taste of it now—the sweet smell of the paints, the feel of them against the canvas, the sensation of squeezing them from the tube and anticipating the color before it oozes out. I had seen the glorious image of the paints mixing on the palette, the swirls of color dancing with each other like a pair of nymphs in theatric foreplay.

If I couldn’t get the airplane to work did this mean that I was finished with ever being anything except an accountant? In addition, if I felt that way, did this mean that I had always harbored secret thoughts of wanting to be more than an accountant? No, I don’t think so. I was proud of my career. Furthermore, what’s wrong with being an accountant? I could fit into a mold, couldn’t I? Molds are predictable—I had sought the safety of the mold many, many times in my life. It was like home--warm and cozy--like a fleece blanket at the meditative end to a Yoga session. But, damn, there’s that duality again. Yoga. With it’s proper forms and breathing, giving way to a more free flow of the life spirit. What is it with this continual struggle to find balance? Why can’t I just be an accountant and be happy with it. But, I am happy. Very happy. And on and on my mind spun...