The man behind my inspiration

All college applications require you to write an essay that somewhat explains why you want to study whatever it is you want to study. Being 17 at the time, my adventure into my artistic path was limited to 4 high school art classes, mostly painting after the state-required beginner's art course. I wrote about my art teacher of my sophmore year, how she'd opened my eyes to all kinds of art mediums like jewelry, metal working, printmaking and acrylic painting. The essay was enough to get me into Houston Baptist as an art major with a very small scholarship. I had no idea at the time what events, people and circumstances were yet to influence me. Sophmore year of college, at the ripe age of 19, I met the man who would grow me into a personal style, inspire me to think outside the box, and motivate to make my art my life's work. His name was Virgil Grotfeldt.

How this amazing man ended up at HBU was surely a work of God's doing. He came out of Illinois, received his Masters in Philidephia, and his teaching career eventually led him to Houston. His artwork was very imaginative; very spiritual and almost unearthly. I remember him telling us that he never planned a painting- he let the medium and brush do the work. When you're a young artist, you go through all the traditional trainings and methods, and it's important to meet the criteria, to have the technique, to understand balance and form and color. Grotfeldt thought of these things instinctively, it seemed. His brain, his eyes, his hands just poured out creative beauty. All art majors had upper level studio hours that were required. These studio hours were some of my most difficult, most beautiful, most enjoyed and now most missed. Grotfeldt was always there, a cup of strong coffee in his hand, a pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, and plenty of stories to tell. One time my entire two hours of studio time was nothing more than me sitting on my stool listening to him theorize the real activites of machines, computers and the government. While I sometimes thought his thinking was way out there, I couldn't get enough of it. He always made me smile; always taught me something about the world I'd have never learned otherwise. He always had this look of learned patience and humbleness, which I can still see in his eyes even in the picture above.

Grotfeldt transformed me. He made me find my artist within. At my senior art exhibition, the only reason I made it through my speech was because he was standing right next to me, like a proud father, listening and silently supportive. While I have disappointments and regrets about some of my time at HBU, I know that if I'd not gone there, I never would've met this amazing person and would not be who I am now as an artist. February 24, 2009 was a sad day for many of us who studied or worked with Grotfeldt. But in my heart, and I'm sure in the hearts of others he touched, Grotfeldt stills mentors me, still guides me, and still makes me smile. I can't wait to see him again some day.

"Constant Memory" by Virgil Grotfeldt

"TRex"by Virgil Grotfeldt

"12_3_1" by Virgil Grotfeldt

"Growing Pains" by Virgil Grotfeldt

"Melancholy" by Virgil Grotfeldt

Grotfeldt and his work

My tribute to him

If you want to read some more about him, here are some very interesting articles and tributes to him:
º A small collection owned by Holly Johnson Gallery
º A news article from the day he died
º His best friend, Waldo Bien, on working with Grotfeldt
º A write-up from HBU