The Artist

Early Years

My earliest introduction to art was around the age of six when, after drawing a picture of a horse, I received praise and encouragement. If people were happy with something I had drawn, then that was exciting for me. From that moment on, I was hooked on art and continued to draw throughout my early years.

I was born in Tacoma, Washington, to a French mother and a father who served as an officer in the Air Force. Because of his military career, we moved frequently around the United States and eventually overseas to France, where he was stationed as an American liaison officer. My mother, determined to immerse us in her native culture, chose for us to live in the city of Nancy rather than on an American base. We attended local French schools, I joined the French cub scouts, and all my friends were French. At home, we spoke only French, and soon I began to think in French.

Living in France left an indelible mark on me. Surrounded by centuries of history, magnificent cathedrals, medieval streets, and grand châteaux, I developed a deep love for European history and architecture. My sketchbooks filled with drawings of old buildings, Roman ruins, and scenes from historical events I learned about in school. This was more than childhood fascination—it was the beginning of a lifelong passion for interpreting the past through images.

These formative years in France shaped not only my language and worldview but also the way I approached art. Art was no longer just something I enjoyed; it became a way to preserve memory, celebrate culture, and tell stories across time. Even after returning to the United States, the influence of those early experiences in Europe continued to guide my artistic direction.

Art, for me, began as joy, became identity, and endures as purpose.

Education

In 1963 my family moved back to the United States and settled in Charleston, South Carolina—a beautiful, historic city rich with its own architectural heritage. After graduating from high school, I attended college and majored in Architectural History, while also taking art classes. It soon became clear that my true interest lay in fine art, and in 1980 I graduated with a degree in art from the College of Charleston.

After graduation, I worked for the U.S. Post Office as a rural mail carrier while continuing to draw and paint. I participated in both a College of Charleston alumni show and an exhibit at the Gibbes Art Gallery in Charleston. During a visit to Philadelphia, I was introduced to ceramics by my grandmother-in-law. She had been working with ceramics for years, and I was captivated by the intense and rich colors of her work. In an act of remarkable generosity, she gifted me a small kiln, clay, glazes, and tools—everything I needed to start creating ceramic art. I began experimenting (almost burning my apartment down in the process) and learning all I could about working with clay.

In 1986, I transferred my Post Office job and moved with my family to Portland, Oregon. My young daughter Josie, ever the entrepreneur, began a project making Christmas angel ornaments, which got the kiln fired up again and launched a creative journey that led us to sell our wares at Portland Saturday Market. I continued participating in the market for seventeen years. Over time, my craft evolved—from Christmas ornaments to clay jewelry, then to handmade ceramic tiles and switch plate covers. Yet throughout this journey, I longed to return to something more basic and personally expressive. That longing marked the beginning of a long journey back to painting—though I remained committed to working with clay as part of my
artistic expression.

Terra Cotta Painting

In 1998, my father offered me the tools he had used for making marquetry, an old art form that involves creating images and designs with inlaid wood. This gift sparked an idea: I began thinking about how I might use woodcuts to create impressions in clay. My first attempts were promising, and I quickly realized I was on to something special. I started crafting increasingly detailed woodcuts, and the pressings I made in clay became more refined and expressive.

I expanded on this method by making additional impressions in the clay using rocks, pieces of wood, and other found objects. I also began fabricating my own tools to shape and mold the clay to better represent the forms I envisioned. Over time, I began sculpting leaves, trees, and other organic shapes onto my clay canvas. The combination of texture and form introduced a new, sculptural dimension to my work. But this was only part of what would become my terracotta painting process.

The clay compositions needed color. I knew I didn’t want to take a decorative or formulaic approach that might make my work resemble traditional tiles. I wanted to paint as I had on canvas—but now, instead of using watercolor, oils, or acrylics, I was using underglazes and engobes. This introduced a whole new set of challenges. The colors changed during the kiln firing process, requiring me to develop a heightened sensitivity and adapt my painting style to suit the materials.

I experimented constantly, using brushes, sponges, palette knives, my fingers, airbrushes—whatever worked to achieve the effect I wanted. I even rubbed particles of clay into the colors to create subtle tones and intentionally left areas unpainted to expose the natural beauty of the clay body. Each piece is fired to 1940 degrees Fahrenheit. I forgo the use of a shiny glaze to preserve an earthy, matte surface that gives the work a unique, natural appearance unlike any other medium.

People have responded to this style by saying my paintings make them feel relaxed and more composed. This feedback is deeply meaningful to me. My larger artistic goal is to offer some relief from our hectic, modern lives by evoking the slow, timeless beauty of the old world. Through my clay paintings, I hope to inspire quiet reflection and to suggest how the past continues to influence our present in subtle, enduring ways.

Abstractions

In recent years, I have embraced a more contemporary direction in my work. I continue to explore the technique of bas relief, now enhanced through careful carving and drawing directly into the clay to create intricate, flowing line work. My imagery often includes abstract figures and topsy-turvy compositions that walk the line between whimsy and unease. I favor a matte color palette that evokes tranquility and softness, avoiding the harshness of overly bright or glossy finishes. Leaves frequently appear in my pieces—not just as natural motifs, but as symbolic reminders to let go of what no longer serves me and to be more fully present.

This body of work marks a return to my foundation as a two-dimensional fine artist, now enriched by the physicality and texture of clay. I see each piece as a continuation of the influences that shaped me early in life—my French upbringing, the encouragement of my parents, and the creative spirit of my daughters.

Today

I enjoy a slower pace of life that allows me to travel and spend more time with my granddaughters. My journeys to Europe, the Caribbean, Alaska, Hawaii, and across the lower 48—especially the Oregon coast and the Redwood Forest—have inspired me with a wealth of new ideas and imagery.

I’ve created a few custom kitchen backsplashes and continue to accept commissions and sell my paintings. However, my artistic practice is now more relaxed and unhurried. I exhibit less and find greater joy in the process of designing and painting itself.

To all who have supported and collected my art, I extend my heartfelt thanks. Your appreciation fuels my joy and inspires me to keep creating.

See Patrick Noe on OPB’s Oregon Art Beat – click here to see the segment