There was a time when Greg Olsen considered giving up art.
Olsen and his wife, Sydnie, were living in Arizona, and they were struggling. Sales from his first art show barely covered the cost of invitations and refreshments. There was not a commission in sight. And worse, his house was in foreclosure.
"Sydnie has always been very supportive, but she came to me and asked if perhaps I ought to consider getting a 'real job!' I had to concede she was right," he said.
But as they looked through the want ads, "we soon realized I wasn't qualified to do anything else that would bring home much more than minimum wage. We laughed, and Sydnie sent me back to the studio to get back to work. Somehow, we weathered those storms."
It's a crazy business, this wanting to be an artist, Olsen said. "It's so difficult to get started. It's not like you're doing something people need." Sometimes when young artists come up to him to ask his advice, "I ache for them. I want to tell them if they have any other aptitudes, they should develop those. But I also know that if you have it in your system, it's hard to ignore, to shut off. You have to find some outlet."
It's no surprise that we have a stereotypical image of the artist as a tortured soul, he said with a laugh. And looking back, he said, he would not trade any of his struggles. They have made him a better artist, a better man.
Today, Olsen's art — pictures with religious as well as family themes — is popular all over the country. "It's way more recognized than I am," he said. His art has been exhibited in prominent galleries and shows throughout North America. It is included in the collections of corporations, religious institutions and private citizens all over the country. It has appeared in books, calendars and on CD covers. And he has recently published a retrospective book that traces his career: "Wherever He Leads Me" (Covenant, $24.95).
Olsen grew up in a rural farming community near Idaho Falls. It seems he always had a passion for art. "I remember the first day of first grade. A boy named Odell Green was drawing a picture of pioneers and pine trees and horses. I watched him, fascinated. And I thought, I want to do that."
It was not until high school, however, that he considered seriously making a career of it. For that, he credits his art teacher, Mr. Whitney. There are 10 or 12 people from Whitney's classes who are now making a living with art, he said. "That's pretty good for a little farming community."
Olsen studied at Utah State University and then took a job as an in-house artist with an exhibit company in Salt Lake City, where one of his first assignments was a space mural for Hansen Planetarium. It was about 10 feet high, so when it was done, he signed his name proportionally. "They asked me to come back and make it smaller," he said with a grin.
While living in Arizona, Olsen concentrated on Western art. "I remember showing some pieces to a gallery owner in Scottsdale, and he told me, maybe I should go work for the Yellow Pages. But that only solidified my determination to try harder."
The Olsens decided to move to Utah to be closer to family. By that time, they had a family of young children, and he began painting them. And those paintings seemed to strike a note with other families. Olsen eventually hooked up with a national publisher, Millpond Press.
Olsen had done a few religious paintings on his own and one — of Jesus with some sparrows — inadvertently became mixed in with some slides that people at the company were going through. "They kind of liked it and decided to try some prints. They ended up selling out, and Millpond Press got religion. They created a whole new division just for religious and inspirational art."
It coincided with a time when people were coming back to spiritual values across the country, Olsen said, so timing played a role. But it has been gratifying to have people drawn to his work. "It's fulfilling to put effort into something that will likely be around longer that I will."
He looks on his paintings of Christ as symbolic, simply one man's view. "I feel very inadequate in trying to portray the Savior, and if I try to go beyond, to think what He truly is, it becomes quite paralyzing, petrifying. I just try to represent the spiritual side of life, and hope that other people will relate to it."
And they seem to. He does hear stories — some of them heartwrenching — about what his art has meant to people. But, he said, while it is nice to know it has been helpful, "I really can't take credit for that. It's the nature of the subject matter, and people bring their own spirit to it. Maybe my images are a vehicle that helps bring it out, but I have a hard time endowing them with any special qualities. Those qualities are in the people."
In many ways, an artist's life is similar to that of a hermit, Olsen said. You work alone, with little contact with the outside world. The art goes out the door, "and it does something quite apart from me."
And if it can provide people with a little joy, a little happiness, that's what it's all about, he said. "For me, art should be uplifting. It allows me to see things through someone else's eyes that I might not see on my own."
And it's impact is impossible to measure. "Unless we got up one day, and all the art was gone, and we saw how much grayer the whole world was, I don't think we'll ever appreciate all it does for us."
E-mail: carma@desnews.com