Also, home of:
crayonguy.com and glenscrayonart.com
Born and raised in Long Beach, California, Glen Donley has been making art that stems from the very real to surreal, where both are thought-provoking. He has been making photographic images for more than 40 years, and he loves to brush oil paint on canvas too. Additionally, in a unique medium, he has developed his technique for using Crayola crayons and paper to paint a fine art image.
In his late 20's, Glen became increasingly interested in composition and fine art photography. He was fortunate to be able to spend an ample amount of time with Alan Ross and King Dexter, who were the darkroom technicians for acclaimed photographer, Ansel Adams. These were the guys who were printing Adam’s famous work, and for Glen, it couldn’t get better than that. Those times in San Francisco and Yosemite were a major influence on Glen, which lead to a 40-year love of photography. What he took away from that instruction was advice to make an image that can have meaning for many — not a snapshot for a few.
For a brief time when he was about ten years old, Glen explained to his art teacher that he wanted to oil-paint, but she determined that he was too young and would have to use a pencil and crayons. Glen says, "I used to opine to her about this crayon insult, to which she would retort, 'If you were good, you could make crayon look like oil paint!'".
The Crayon Art Project – Partially in response to that innocent challenge issued by his teacher some 58 years ago, in 2007, Donley challenged himself to go further with his artistry, taking crayon to a fine art level. He asked himself, "What if I could make crayon look like oil paint?" Twelve years later, through many tedious and disciplined hours, Donley has refined a technique for making fine art with Crayola crayons and paper. Glen’s work has appeared in several publications including, Mountain Valley Living, Enjoy Magazine, and internationally, in Teen-2-Teen Magazine.
"Whether it be a painting or a photograph, I want all of my work to hold something unspoken, for the imagination of the viewer."