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school visits 4.2.09 I had a great author visit at an elementary school in Salt Lake City last month--great questions and observations from the students. Here I am reading I'll Be There With Belzon.
international church show 3.22.09 Amy and I spent Friday evening at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, where we enjoyed seeing a host of new works of art with spiritual themes.
In this photo you can see my entry. One of the funnest parts of this competition is the reception, where I get to run into heroes like William Whitaker (the man I'm speaking with in this photo and a legend in the world of portraiture,) old friends from school like Jonathan Linton, and some of my own students that I don't get to see very often, like Kim Kincaid Garfield. It's also fun to meet artists I haven't met before and see the great work that's out there. The show will be in the conference center through October, so hopefully you'll get a chance to see it next time you're in Salt Lake City.
derivative works 3.12.09 I've been amazed this month to see people creating their own works of art in response to my own. The following is an excerpt from poet Tyler Chadwick's Browns and Rusts: Meditations On J. Kirk Richards

I. Sentinels
Drawn inward by the gravity of light, figures trim
beneath sinuous white robes, their point of communion
is clear: hands in line with the flame—its blade toward
the unhealed wound in the earth, the fissure through Eve’s
flesh—they warm themselves before a gilded Tree, clinging
to the stories God told them before he’d given his charge
and left them alone at the far end of Paradise. Their vision,
seared clear as John’s stone by the flame’s quartered eye,
expands with their tresses across the firmament, entangling
the horizon as they watch for survivors of Earth’s crimson epic
to come through the forest line, to greet their command
with the language, the tenor, the touch of victory.
Thanks, Tyler, for your beautiful poetry! And now for quite a different homage--I couldn't help but smile at these totally awesome shoes by Drew Gillespie: 


in defense of an expression 3.7.09 What I am about to write refers to the self portrait depicted here:
Many of the notes we have from famous artists in history consist of responses to criticism of their work. In following with this tradition, I would like to defend myself with regard to this self-portrait, which was recently criticized by someone well-known in the Utah art scene. The person in question pulled me aside to tell me that he didn't like what I was saying here--that it was a negative expression. He assumes I painted this piece to "look cool" to the people on the hill (in reference to university professors and elitists who often dismiss the beautiful as irrelevant to our day.) Perhaps he was right, in that this painting (like most works of art) was intended to communicate with people who respond to it and speak it's language. It's not always obvious who the audience is for any given work of art. Nor is it obvious what the work of art will communicate. Artwork is often a point of departure for thought, which is how I prefer art to be, rather than a teaching paddle that whacks the viewer on the backside to drive home a didactic message. That said, I will now contradict myself by telling the reader exactly what I intended when I painted this work. I set out initially to paint this self-portrait as a response to a self-portrait from nine years earlier, depicted below: 
This earlier portrait was a much more careful, process-oriented piece, whereas the later portrait was much more spontaneous. The later portrait was meant to represent me as an artist now: a more direct painter with fewer preliminary studies and a more spontaneous brush (I did no preliminary drawing for the new portrait.) For some reason I wanted to leave most of the new painting unfinished--perhaps because this painting was for me, not for a gallery or a collector who would wish for something more representational and polished. 
I decided to leave the second eye unfinished to represent various changes from the way I viewed the world nine years ago. Whereas I once saw things as much more black and white, I now tend to see many shades of gray. In a society that cherishes the absolute, this may be an unwanted expression. For me, there are still absolutes, but I'm a little more careful about placing things in one category or the other. The painting also represents the creative process. There are moments in which I can see clearly what to do next to a work in progress. Other moments, it seems I'm completely blind. I don't see this as a negative expression. On the contrary, it is in the blind moments that I rely on the eye of faith rather than the physical eye which fails me. Lastly, the painting is a reminder of Christ's teaching: "And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee..." There certainly is opposition in all things, and that's okay. In the end, I'll leave it up to the viewer to decide whether or not this painting is okay. And that's the way it should be.
a country studio 2.13.09 I posted some photos of the drive to the studio here.
I love the rural scenery and I'm sure it will show up in future landscape paintings. The building itself affords me a large amount of space in which to finish large-scale works of art. It was formerly a salt packaging facility, owned by Redmond Minerals. Many of the town's people are employed by Redmond Minerals, which operates a salt mine just north of Redmond Town. Chances are you've seen if not tasted some of their Real Salt products. 
Let me address some of the questions I've been asked about the space. First of all, why Redmond? I had been looking for a large space for some time, and I knew I would probably have to commute in order to find something that was less expensive (a building this size would have cost ten times more in Utah County.) In addition, I was (and still am) enamored of the idea of escaping the city to create artwork in a place with no distractions. Oil paint takes a while to dry, so it works well to go down to the studio maybe three times per month. I have a small living space there so I can stay overnight. You can see in the picture above an angel painting in progress. The painting is nearly twelve feet tall. The space is perfect for working on large-scale works and extra messy projects like the plaster sculptures I've just begun working on. 
What's in Redmond? About 700 lovely people, a small lake, a baseball diamond, a few historic buildings, and an awesome 24th of July celebration. Redmond is quite close to Salina. In fact, it takes me longer to get to the hardware store from my house in Provo than it takes for me to get to JJWD Hardware in Salina from the Redmond studio. Am I going to leave Provo and move to Redmond? That's not in my plans. It would defeat the purpose of having a place with no distractions. Not to mention, I'm quite attached to our house in Provo, which is the house I grew up in and is within walking distance of BYU. The kids love coming down to Redmond with me every now and then. It's their getaway too.
words 2.13.09 Welcome to my blog. My intent in creating this blog is to get some of my thoughts out on cyber paper concerning creativity and aesthetics as they fit into the larger scheme of things.
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