Below are excerpts from an interview I did with Charles Shepard, Director of the Lyman Allyn Art Museum. This interview appeared in the 1997 issue of Gallery Notes, in connection with the museum's exhibition 20th Century Folk Art from the Collection of Flo and Jules Laffal.

CS: Contemporary folk art is often, rightly or wrongly, referred to as "outsider" or "visionary" art. You've more often used the description "self-taught" art. Which label is more accurate?

James Harold Jennings in his environment Pinnacle, North Carolina, 1998

GY: This semantic issue has been oft debated and never resolved. Each of the labels -- folk, outsider, and visionary, not to mention naive and primitive -- carries a hefty dose of baggage which gives some artists and collectors pause.

"Outsider", coined by British scholar Roger Cardinal thirty years ago, suggests that the artists are creating outside the mainstream, at the margins. This may be true with some artists at some points in their lives. The "old master" of this field, Bill Traylor, was born into slavery and ended his life homeless; he was hardly privy to mainstream culture.

Jim Sudduth was considered an outsider for the many decades that he created his mud paintings in relative obscurity; but now that he receives dozens of visitors every week, and his works regulary sell in the four-digit range in the most rarefied of Madison Avenue galleries, can he truly still be considered to be working at the "margins"? The term misses the mark more often that it works, and the "us-vs-them" dichotomy such nomenclature sets up leaves many feeling uncomfortable.

"Visionary" may be a more appealing description of this art -- but would M.C. "5 cent" Jones say that his memory paintings of harvesting cotton as a tenant sharecropper in rural Louisiana are visionary? Part of the beauty of this art lies in its ability to capture the "everydayness" of life, so visionary is all too often an overblown name.

I prefer the term "self-taught" precisely because it is the only trait that unites the many artisrts in this field and in this exhibition. This art and its creators are as diverse as American culture, with no common aesthetic, no shared background, no singular motivation. Yes, some are outsider, and yes, some are visionary -- but all are self-taught.

The other term I am intrigued by is "intuitive", which goes hand in hand with "self-taught". What is a self-taught artist if not driven by some inner impulse, some undauntable urge to create which is borne of intuition?

CS: The work of so many of the self-taught artists is tremendously compelling, with a sincere power and raw charm that rivals that of trained fine artists. Is this despite the self-taught artist's flaunting of convention or due to it?

GY: I doubt that many of the self-taught artists in this exhibition are even thinking of convention and their relationship to it when they put pen (or housepaint or mud!) to paper. Most of them have an enviable capacity to express themselves without fear of reproach, a courage to bare their souls through their art. It is this unusual quality, which one could view more than anything else as obliviousness to convention, which results in the compelling testaments that the rest of us are privileged to witness.

The self-taught artists included in this exhibition would create their works whether a market exits for them or not. Their urge to create is irrepressible -- and for every self-taught artist that we know about, there are dozens more who are working away in total obscurity, giving little or no thought to being "discovered".

This "raw charm" you mention is precisely what makes self-taught art so arresting and compelling. The years of rigorous training undertaken by legions of fine artists may in fact drain their works of power and immediacy. Obviously, everyone is different; but I cannot imagine that Howard Finster would have kept the same sharp perspective on the world -- and the hereafter! -- had he earned an advanced degree at the Corcoran or the School of Visual Arts.

CS: Part of the strength of many works of self-taught artists is the subjects, taken from ordinary, day-to-day life of less-than-well-to-do people: people playing cards, picking cotton, walking to work, feeding the animals. These are subjects that much fine art eschews, yet ones that a great many people yearn to see. Why do you think these subjects draw us in so?

Mattie Lou O'Kelley, 1991

GY: At heart, I think we are all voyeurs. We all share a need to connect with other human beings, to better understand them and their lives if our own are to have validity and meaning.

So, while the profound moments of life -- birth, marriage, loss -- may provide rich fodder for art of all types, so do the ordinary moments, the ones we can all relate to on a daily, even hourly, basis. I, the viewer, may gain comfort and fulfillment from an artist's rendering of a family meal, an act of worship, or children at play.

And I think we gain insight into how to cope with the difficulties that our own fragile lives present when we see how others have coped.

CS: A number of self-taught artists have turned to making art after retiring, after the death of a loved one, or in between doing the other things that have to be done. In our society, we tend to look down on the average Sunday painter as, at best, a well-intentioned hack. Why do we feel so differently (more favorably) toward the self-taught artist?

GY: Just as you can probably carry a tune better than I, and I may be able to compose a more lyrical poem than my neighbor, part of the answer lies in innate artistic talent. Not everyone is a Picasso. A small handful of self-taught artists possess the rare ability to create enduring, significant works.

But beyond that, an important question is how genuine is the message? What distinguishes a self-taught artist whose work has staying power from the myriad landscape artists out there is sincerity. Mose Tolliver began painting his world on old pieces of plywood nearly three decades ago out of a deep inner drive. Royal Robertson was obsessed by the text-riddled drawings he churned out, and could no more have ceased his work that he could have chosen not to draw his next breath. Their creative instinct is most authentic, and they have appreciable talent to boot!

CS: Many self-taught artists have become well-known and highly sought after by curators and collectors alike. How do these artists relate to this popularity? Is this what the average self-taught artist really strives for?

Ruby Williams' roadside produce stand in Florida

GY: Very few of the self-taught artists who have received critical acclaim initially set out to find an audience. But that doesn't mean that they are unaffected once the collectors and dealers carve a well-beaten path to their door. The artists' responses to notoriety are varied; some are bemused by it but continue to work according to their instincts; other realize significant income for the first time in their lives and try to to produce higher volume or to mold their work to fit what they perceive as the "market"; still others struggling with substance abuse or the inner demons of mental illness (of which creative genius is borne, it has been argued), may feel violated or exploited by the attention they are receiving. Every situation is different.

CS: What about purity and sincerity as an issue? Do these artists have another agenda?

GY: The art is undoubtedly appealing in its sincerity. Good self-taught art is nothing if not honest and heartfelt -- at times even raw. But I think it has multiple agendas. Aren't all artists storytellers? And the stories each has to share vary widely. Stories of bearing witness, getting by in the face of poverty, nature, dreams, patriotism, racism, loved ones -- each holds its own distinctive agenda, which you and I are privileged to reflect on and consider as we view them in the context of our own experiences.

CS: Religion seems to be important to many of the artists. Why is this?

GY: Since time immemorial, artists have been striving to capture their faith visually -- and self-taught artists are no different. Religious convictions reside deep within our souls, as do our artistic imaginations. What a logical pairing! By contrast, I'm always a little surprised when artists choose to paint or draw scenes which any of us could look out the window and see for ourselves --a cow, a person, a street scene. What is the mystery in these? Why bother with them when they are so accessible in the real world?

CS: What advice can you offer to someone who would like to start collecting folk art?

GY: New collectors should prepare themselves for a thrilling experience! The single most important thing you can do as a new collector is to follow your instincts. If you buy a painting to hang in your living room, you'll be looking at it and living with it every day. Don't heed what the critics say or pay attention to how well known an artist is. Go with what resonates with you personally.