Walk into Orson Foulger's studio and from every corner the faces stare down at you: children with rosy complexions, beaming couples celebrating 50th wedding anniversaries and soldiers wearing the somber expressions of war.
In the middle of it all, there is a pastel portrait of wild horses, which Orson gently takes off the wall and holds up for a closer look.
"I was 13 when I did this," he says, his eyes sparkling as he recalls the first time he picked up a paintbrush at Ogden's Central Junior High. "It's the one that got me hooked, I guess you could say. It's the one that turned me into a dreamer, always wanting to be an artist."
More than 1,000 portraits later, Orson, now 87, is still living his dream, capturing the essence of relatives and strangers on canvas, patiently spending hours to create a perfect likeness that will admired for generations to come.
Last year, he almost had to give up his passion when his hands developed tremors, but now, thanks to medication, he's back at his easel. Grateful to have the chance to pursue his favorite pastime in his last years of life, Orson invited me to join him and his new bride, Gladys, for a Free Lunch of turkey sandwiches and tomato soup at the Salt Lake condo he's turned into a studio.
"We're proof that it's never too late to start over," says Orson, a retired mortician who remarried last November after eight years as a widower. When he met Gladys, 85, who lived in the same complex, he invited her up to see his paintings and they've been together ever since.
"That line about coming up to see my paintings always did come in handy as a come-on," he says with a grin.
"Well, you always were a hot commodity," retorts Gladys, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, he had more widows after him than you could shake a stick at."
But Gladys was the only woman who ended up with an artist to go along with her portrait. Now, Orson is busy painting a picture of his bride from a snapshot taken in her early 20s.
Gladys refuses to pose for him, but that's all right, says Orson. "Neither will anybody else, because it's such hard work," he says. "People don't have time anymore to sit in a studio."
Instead, they send Orson favorite photographs, which he copies onto canvas, painstakingly capturing every detail, from a finely wrinkled forehead to a special twinkle in somebody's eyes.
"People are so much more interesting to paint than landscapes," he says. "There's always that challenge of getting it just right."
It also helps that the artist has a special way of relating to his subjects. As a mortician for 40 years, Orson helped thousands of people through the worst moments of their lives. After a long day in the funeral home, he would unwind with his oil paints to forget the sadness and heartache.
"Several people later asked me to do portraits of their loved ones," he says, "and I was happy to oblige. It's a way for them to have a remembrance that will be in the family forever."
Orson has never charged much for his portraits; in fact, his fees barely cover the cost of the canvas and frames. "I don't do this for the money, I do it for the enjoyment," he says, studying his latest undertaking: a portrait of a young girl in a fancy lace dress.
"Honestly, he really should charge more," says Gladys, shaking her head. "The time he puts in is incredible at his age."
"That's funny, my first wife said the same thing," says Orson. He looks at his wife and laughs. "I guess it's a good thing I kept my condo. If Gladys ever decides to kick me out, I can always live here in the studio."
Have a story? Let's hear it over lunch. E-mail your name, phone number and what's on your mind to freelunch@desnews.com or send a fax to 466-2851. You can also write me at the Deseret News, P.O. Box 1257, Salt Lake City, UT 84110.