I had no idea if Robert was temperamental - he might get up and leave, and then I’d be in deep trouble with Lori and Martha, my editor. I swung safely into a two-hour-only parking space in downtown Covington; lunch at Étoile couldn’t take that long. I had Robert’s picture from his website - dark hair, mustache, slight beard, glasses, medium stature. He was waiting and waved me to the table.

He was personable, friendly and charming. Our conversation was wide-ranging. We talked about his art, his travels, Louisiana, creativity. He may spend weeks working out a painting’s composition, color and nuance in his mind. When he knows exactly what feeling he wants to convey and how he will achieve the mood and effect, he puts brush to canvas and the work proceeds quickly. He completes a painting in a day or two.

He paints landscapes, nudes and figurative objects in a contemporary style, using earth tones. He prefers to capture a mood based on the emotion the subject evokes. Early morning mist rising over a fresh, glistening earth is a favorite time, as is sunset when the light and shadows of the dying day cast a luminescence over the land. His masterful use of light and shadow, combined with the earth tones he prefers, conveys a feeling of warmth, calmness, peace and melancholy. The richly sparse, uncluttered canvases are his signature style.

Robert’s Starry Safari painting depicts the expanse of the Global Wildlife Center preserve with a family of giraffes near the horizon. The artist combines metallic acrylic and multiple layers of colored glazes on textured canvas. His contemporary interpretation of classical Renaissance lines creates an old-world finish. This modern technique, rooted on a solid study of the old masters, contributes greatly to the timeless appeal of his work.

A self-taught artist, Robert paints one original work. From this painting, a company in California recreates a limited number of giclées (zhe-clays), a French word coined in the 17th century to denote spraying at a high speed. Though the French were the first to use this system, Americans have perfected it using a high-resolution digital process. Robert patiently explained how the printer squirts thousands of microscopic dots of archival quality inks onto fine paper or canvas, producing a rich, vibrant, museum-quality recreation of the original. This digital system has been refined to such a science that, in most cases, it is impossible to tell an original from a giclée. Giclées now hang in all the major museums of the world.

Robert enhances each individual giclée, then numbers and signs it. He doesn’t use the word reproduction because giclée is a recreation of the original, not a copy. Giclées make high-quality art available to everyone, while at the same time increasing the value of the original. Robert considers giclée a win-win situation for art lovers as well as artists.

I was at a disadvantage. I had only seen website pictures of Robert’s work. I’d never seen a giclée up close. I couldn’t imagine a computer able to reproduce or recreate a painting that is difficult to distinguish from the original.

“I’ll show you,” Robert said. “We’ll walk down to the Spectrum Gallery after we’re through lunching. They have my giclées there.”

As we ate, I learned more about the artist and his work. Robert began painting in 1989 and zoomed to the top in a relatively short time. He started with oils, did some watercolors and finally found his medium, acrylics and glazes. He attributes his success to talent and marketing ability. Previously a business man and gallery owner, he is aware of what people buy, what it takes to promote an artist, and all the details that go along with the selling of art. He alternates between painting and marketing because he says it’s impossible for him to do both at one time. “It’s like using both sides of your brain simultaneously. I haven’t learned to do that, yet.”

Robert recently opened the New Horizon Gallery on Royal Street in the French Quarter. Danny Saladino, his friend and associate, oversees the gallery and helps Robert with the business of marketing art. More than sixty galleries, both national and international, feature Robert Cook originals and giclées. His works can be found in corporate offices and in private homes throughout the nation.

Robert Cook is a man full of hopes, ideas and enthusiasm. A few years ago, before going into art full time, he published a coffee table book entitled “Louisiana, This One’s for You.” The text was by Governor Jimmy Davis of “You are my Sunshine” fame. The paintings were by Robert Rucker, an artist Robert particularly admires. The book describes interesting sights and events in Louisiana. Robert’s ambition is to board his motor home and travel all over the state, stop at the places depicted in the book, and paint the beautiful landscapes and traditions. All he needs is time.

While extremely busy preparing for an up-coming show in New York, Robert is dreaming of taking a road trip following Lewis and Clark’s expedition. He has never managed to get away long enough, but he has not abandoned the idea. He’d also like to visit Hawaii, where his paintings hang in the Kush Gallery on Front Street in Lahaina. “I’m going to Maui next month,” I said. “I will stop there and check out the gallery for you.”

Chicago came into the conversation. Robert’s paintings are at Hark Gallery. “I’ll check on those for you, too,” I said. (With four grandchildren in Chicago, I practically commute to the Windy City.)

Although we were finished with lunch, we continued our talk on art, travel and Louisiana - favorite subjects. Robert is sold on Louisiana. Time drifted past, and I had to remind myself this man wasn’t a friend. I was here to ask pertinent questions!

We walked a block to the Spectrum Gallery where his paintings hung. Sitting on an easel placed prominently in a display window was an original painting, a luminous brown landscape with trees shimmering in the background. An identical giclée hung on a wall. The giclée had the same glazed, textured look as the original. Robert put the two paintings side by side for me to examine. Only an art expert could detect the difference, and I’m no expert.

As I studied the paintings, noting their quality and style, I told myself, “No, no, no. I’m retired. Stock market is crashing. Investments have tanked. Social security barely covers the household help. I have no more wall space.”

I knew my weaknesses. Slowly, I backed away. Robert and I said our goodbyes. I walked back to my car, so hastily abandoned in the two-hour-only spot. Stuck under the windshield wiper was an overtime parking ticket.

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