On a frigid November afternoon in 1997, I met Gene Hackman in front of the old Dr. Pepper plant in South Baltimore. It was my first day working on the set of the movie “Enemy of the State.” Hackman was taking a “break,” as he later put it, from the career retirement he’d declared only a few years prior. Wrapped in a long dress coat, he gazed wistfully at the dilapidated building. “You know that’s gonna’ be rubble this time tomorrow, right?” I didn’t. As he explained that the blast sequence would follow a scene between his seasoned spy character and Will Smith’s disoriented attorney, I started shivering from the cold. Hackman handed me a pair of hand warmers. “Take these. Rip them open and shake ’em a bit. They’ll heat you up.”

With that gesture, Hackman broke form and demonstrated kindness to a complete stranger, something I’d yet to experience with a seasoned actor — or anyone of his stature.

“Gene,” he said and extended his hand. I shook it and introduced myself.

“You one of the NSA guys?” he asked. I was a bit embarrassed to admit I was a stand-in for a few of the actors, including Barry Pepper, Ian Hart and Scott Caan. Hackman smiled and stared out at the Patapsco River, “It’s still a job on a film — and now you’re here.” At that moment, I felt like I was in a Gene Hackman movie and the cameras weren’t even rolling.

I had already acted professionally in theater and film, but I’d yet to catch my big — or even little — break. Raised just one county away, I was inching toward my dream of performing in movies with iconic actors like Hackman. So, here I was … on the precipice of something. Gene Hackman, on the other hand, was nearing his exit. It was a critical intersection at least in my life and, perhaps, for Hackman too.

I could write about studying Gene’s nuanced work in that movie — one of the best master classes on the art of acting I’ve enjoyed — but upon hearing of his recent passing, I wanted to share some of the conversations we had over lunch on set.

During the nearly four-month shoot, it became clear, despite his reserved manner, that Gene Hackman deeply cared for people. To retain that much empathy for the characters he played — even the ones he didn’t like, such as “Popeye” Doyle in “The French Connection” — required some higher purpose and belief in humanity.

When he wasn’t preparing for an intense scene in “Enemy of the State,” he was a relaxed and willing participant in conversation with me. But I wondered why. I assumed it was because I didn’t really want anything from him. Of course, I hoped to learn by his example, enjoy his presence and witness stellar repeat performances up close. But he didn’t have to give me a second glance. I was just a young guy at work, happy to be there and he saw that for what it was, I think. Of course, I’ll never know.

Once Hackman learned I was an actor jobbing as a stand-in, he asked where I’d studied. “Maryland Institute College of Art — here in Baltimore. I took classes at Hopkins, too,” I told him.

“You went to art school?” he asked.

I nodded sheepishly.

“That’s great. I always wanted to go full-time,” he said. “I took painting classes at the Art Students League … after the military.”

I asked him if he made art in Santa Fe, where he lived full-time.

“I spend a lot of time painting watercolor landscapes. Some fanciful portraits too. Paintings — big ones, smaller ones. I love it. It’s not like any of this,” he explained, pointing to the heavy machinery of filmmaking nearby. A certain serenity washed over him as he spoke about his art as if he were visualizing the desert landscape he loved and painted.

After speaking with him about his watercolor wash techniques, Fauvist color palettes and cold-press paper choices, we talked about the space and freedom that desert living afforded. By the end of that first on-set lunch with Hackman, I knew he was an artist — in the deepest sense of the word. Artists don’t really have a choice in training their sincere attention on life’s challenging dynamics, and they’re always looking for the truth — or at least their truth. Great artists, in my experience, want to help you find your truth, too. Hackman, of course, was one of the greats.

Christmas rolled around and the entire cast and crew returned to California to shoot on sound stages at Sony Pictures Studios. I only got to lunch with Hackman a few more times.

Outside his trailer, we chatted about Hackman’s respect for “Enemy of the State” director Tony Scott because he essentially set the scene, covered the complex action with several cameras, cleared a path for actors to do their thing and made art out of it.

Then Hackman mentioned he’d been writing a seafaring adventure novel, another form of his own art. He started to talk about the villains in the book and offered a suggestion. “You’re a character actor, right? I know that game,” he laughed. “At first, you’re probably going to play bad guys: the misunderstood, the fringy types — or maybe even the regular types later on. But do yourself and everyone who’s watching a favor: Reveal something they don’t expect — and even something you don’t expect. That’s the art part. I think you get what I mean.” I did.

Hackman elaborated that it’s important to connect with the character and understand what he wants. “What you have to deliver is often based on what just happened before the scene started — and maybe even a lingering complicated past. But then you drop all of that on set and stay in the moment. You’re not playing to anyone except the actor in front of you. When you concentrate and relax, there’s no camera, no audience, nothing. Just you and that other person — it’s a bare, beautiful moment and among the best moments you’ll ever have working. If you’re lucky.”

I certainly felt lucky in that moment, getting the greatest of acting tips from a legend. Hackman’s advice informed just about every role I won after that conversation. I took it to heart when preparing and playing everything from a garrulous drugged-up crime lord on “NCIS: Los Angeles” to a brutal alien thug on “Star Trek: Enterprise” and even when portraying a distinctly alternative view of Jesus in a television special based on the Dan Brown novel “The Da Vinci Code.”

Hackman completed a number of paintings in his time, though I’ve only seen a few — interesting, colorful, Post-Impressionist works reminiscent of Gauguin and Cézanne. But there was one work that really touched me.

The last day that I saw Hackman, he handed over a sketch he’d drawn of me in blue pen on the back of a script page. He’d captured me resting on a chair in the sun with my eyes closed while on a break at Sony Studios. I’ve since lost that sketch, sadly, but I’ll never forget my lunches with Gene, and the utter kindness, profound wisdom and unexpected comradery he generously shared with me.

Stephen Wozniak is an artist, writer and actor based in Los Angeles. He earned a B.F.A. from Maryland Institute College of Art and attended Johns Hopkins University. His website is stephenwozniakart.com and Instagram page is @thestephenwozniak.