Mark G. Langeneckert, visiting instructor of drawing and illustration at MU, spends much of his time convincing students to forget what they think they know about seeing. "Un-learn the common practice of merely looking," he urges them. "The art of seeing, the translation of visual clutter into a more organized visual experience, is elementary to making art."

By way of explanation, Langeneckert directs a visitor's gaze toward a group of three large charcoal sketches. "Everyone comes to drawing with preconceptions about how they should see something," he says. When positioned behind a reclining figure, for instance, our eyes tell us her legs are foreshortened. But our brain says otherwise. "This is a real problem for students. It's hard for them to trust their eyes, to say, 'This is a line that should be only two inches long, even though I'm representing a human thigh that is at least 18 inches in length.' "

Langeneckert, 50, has never had trouble trusting his own visual reading of the world. His recent paintings, a selection of which appear in this online gallery, are examples of how a skilled artist's rendering of an "organized visual experience" -- in Langeneckert's case austere, yet intensely colorful, representations of objects, forms and the natural world -- can carry great emotional weight.

Making such art, he says, requires a technical proficiency gained through years of study and practice. It also demands a refinement of one's creative sensibilities, what Langeneckert calls "the evolving path of personal discovery."

"An artistic life, if there truly is one, is one in which the art is a part of all aspects of what you do, whether you're gardening or cooking or cleaning your house," he says. "If you can develop that thought process, where art isn't just a thing you do in your studio but is a part of everything in your life, then your creative work can truly blossom."