Professor of Illustration in the BYU Department of Design
May 8, 2018
Professor of Illustration in the BYU Department of Design
May 8, 2018
Students, family members, administrators, faculty, and staff, I am greatly honored to be here today and appreciate the opportunity to address you.
Two weeks ago my wife, Vicki, and I were in Washington, DC, attending the Portrait Society of America Conference with seven of my illustration students on an experiential learning trip. Our students represented us so well.
Last year while Vicki and I were in Rome, we visited the Vatican Museum and had an opportunity to view the Sistine Chapel. In an address given more than fifty years ago, President Spencer W. Kimball spoke of Michelangelo, the painter of the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. He stated:
[Michelangelo’s] 3,500 square-foot painting in the Sistine Chapel is said to be the most important piece of mural painting of the modern world.
To be an artist [or a scientist or a mathematician could be added] means hard work and patience and long-suffering. [Michelangelo] said, “I am a poor man and of little merit, who plod along in the art which God gave me.” . . .
. . . His David in Florence and his Moses in Rome inspire to adulation.1
A recent exhibition entitled Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman and Designer was displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Eight years in the making, the exhibit included 133 drawings, which is “the largest group of drawings by Michelangelo ever assembled for public display.”2 Among the drawings exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum was a single page of studies Michelangelo drew for the Libyan Sibyl—a page I often show and display for my students studying life drawing. At the time of Michelangelo, sibyls were considered to have equal status to that of the prophets.
Historically, drawings did not exist as stand-alone entities but rather as preparatory studies for more monumental works. Of drawing, Michelangelo stated:
Let this be plain to all: design, or as it is called by another name, drawing, constitutes the fountain-head and substance of painting and sculpture and architecture and . . . is the root of all sciences. Let him who has attained the possession of this be assured that he possesses a great treasure.3
One wonders that were his statement made today, would it also include the disciplines of animation, digital painting, and graphic design?
His letters and poetry also reveal that Michelangelo possessed a sensitive spirit. He loved and revered God, whom he considered the bestower of his talents. He fought great conflicts and battles within himself and experienced bouts of insecurity, despite his extreme self-assurance, which further fueled his desire to attain perfection and preserve his legacy. Shortly before his death, Michelangelo burned hundreds of his drawings, sketches and cartoons—a self-inflicted bonfire of mediocrity—in an effort to conceal the ways in which he labored to realize his genius.4
In my life-drawing classes, I encourage students to make master copies of different artists—not as an exercise to fill their sketchbooks with good drawings but as an exercise for making valuable observations about the work of the artists they select. Historically, accomplished artists have always stood on the shoulders of greatness.
Norman Rockwell was no exception. In his 1943 cover for the Saturday Evening Post, Rockwell paid homage to Michelangelo’s figure of Isaiah from the Sistine Chapel in his portrayal of Rosie the Riveter. Over the course of World War II, millions of women left their homes to fill a manpower shortage, building bombs, tanks, planes, and a myriad of other necessary items. To do so they had to overcome the perception that they were physically not up to the task. Rockwell’s heroic Rosie seems more than equal to the task.
In November 2015 our illustration students were invited to the opening night of the American Chronicles: The Art of Norman Rockwell show, exhibited at the BYU Museum of Art. Ruby Bridges, the little girl pictured in Rockwell’s painting titled The Problem We All Live With, was the guest speaker. In her remarks she stated that she felt very privileged to have been painted by Rockwell. She told the audience, “He took a lot of flak for [that painting].”5
She also said:
I was six years old at the time I integrated into an all-white school and had no idea what was going on. I thought I was going to college. Later it became evident to me that my story was bigger than I was, and I came to grips with that.6
Ruby explained that her story became valuable especially because it became a source of inspiration to other children trying to do hard things. She recalled: “One little girl told me, ‘You are so brave! I had to be brave like you when I called the police because my dad was beating my mom.’”7
In 1964, when he painted The Problem We All Live With, Rockwell had left the Saturday Evening Post and had begun working for Look magazine. This painting was his first assignment. Rockwell did multiple studies for the illustration.
The process of making sketches, tonal studies, and color comprehensives is a long-standing tradition for artists that extends back for centuries. Similarly, dress rehearsals in music, theater, and dance have become an integral part of securing a successful public performance. I love the scripture found in Doctrine and Covenants 38:30: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear.” And as President Thomas S. Monson often remarked, “When the time for performance arrives, the time for preparation is past.”8
In 1965 Rockwell completed the painting Murder in Mississippi. In this work he illustrated the murder of three civil rights workers—Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney—in Philadelphia, Mississippi. He did his normal due diligence in creating multiple preparatory tonal and color studies, but, in this case, Look decided to run the color study instead of the final art, believing that it communicated more emotion than did the final painting.
Another important principle for artists and illustrators in the preparation of their creative work involves the opportunity to have personal experiences with the subject being portrayed.
Several years ago I had the opportunity to visit Israel and Jerusalem along with my wife, Vicki, and additional members of my family. We were able to visit many historic sites, including the Mount of Olives, where Orson Hyde dedicated the Holy Land for the gathering of Judah and the building of a temple there. Up well before dawn, Orson climbed the Mount of Olives, built an altar, and with pen and paper in hand recorded the prayer of dedication previously given to him by revelation. One morning while there, Vicki and I were also up before dawn and witnessed a beautiful sunrise that became part of the inspiration for my later painting about Orson’s experience.
The British philosopher Roger Scruton, in a BBC documentary entitled Why Beauty Matters, stated:
Philosophers have argued that through the pursuit of beauty, we shape the world as a home. We also come to understand our own nature as spiritual beings. . . .
Through beauty we are brought into the presence of the sacred.9
In his book entitled The Greater Journey, two-time Pulitzer Prize–winning author David McCullough wrote about early Latter-day Saint artists. He said:
A group of aspiring young Mormon painters who called themselves “art missionaries” arrived [in Paris] from Utah, many to enroll in the Académie Julian. Their expenses were being provided by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in return for work they would later contribute, painting murals in the Temple at Salt Lake City. As one of their leaders, an especially gifted painter named John Hafen, said, their motivation was the belief that “the highest possible development of talent is a duty we owe to our Creator.”10
In the spring of 1890, John Hafen and fellow artist Lorus Pratt visited George Q. Cannon—who was then a member of the First Presidency—with a proposal that the Church call Hafen, Pratt, and John Fairbanks on an art mission to Paris and provide them with funding. They explained their need for additional training and also expressed a commitment to contribute their subsequently acquired skills to the creation of murals for the Salt Lake Temple. To quote John Hafen:
I made it a matter of prayer for many years that He would open a way whereby I could receive that training which would befit me to decorate His holy temples and the habitations of Zion.11
Hafen, Pratt, and Fairbanks hiked Ensign Peak and offered a prayer that their proposal might be granted. It was accepted, and on June 3 of that year they were set apart as missionaries with “a special purpose.”12 Their departure for Paris occurred on June 23, 1890. Edwin Evans became the fourth art missionary and departed in September, and Herman Haag followed shortly thereafter as the fifth art missionary.
Upon returning, these artists created murals for temples in Salt Lake City, Utah; Cardston, Alberta, Canada; and Mesa, Arizona. A collection of donated paintings by John Hafen became the initial basis of the Springville Museum of Art.
Referencing the art missionaries who aspired to create art for temples, President Boyd K. Packer stated that feeling inspired as an artist was not enough. Talent and inspiration needed to be backed up with training and experience so that the work created would be creditable. He said that the training of great artists, writers, and musicians means, in part, that they need to learn what the world has to teach.13 In Paris—the best art education center in the world at the time—the art missionaries were not just taught how to paint but were also exposed to the work of the great masters.
The art missionaries came to understand through their diligent search for learning that it took a great deal of energy and time to acquire the skill and knowledge they sought. Sacrifice and patience became important components in their quest for learning.
Oliver Cowdery learned this important lesson when he desired to translate the ancient record inscribed on the golden plates. His desires were admirable, but his attempts to translate were not successful. His failure may have been a consequence of undertaking the process with insufficient effort. The Lord told Oliver: “Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”14
Oliver learned that the Lord never does for His children what they can do for themselves. Doing so would deny His children the opportunity to learn and to grow from their own experience, which is one of the fundamental purposes of mortality. As children of our Heavenly Father, we must make more effort than to simply ask Him. We must put forth effort and prepare before He can guide us.
The Lord outlined the action He expected Oliver to take: “Study it out in your mind” and then “ask me if it be right.”15 For an artist, this might mean drawing it out in one’s own mind and then confirming the correct direction. This statement suggests that the Lord expects His children to do their homework on a problem, consider the options, and then make a decision. Then, and only then, are they able to take their decisions to the Lord and ask Him if what they have decided to do is right.
In the Gospel of John we read: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.”16 It seems we will only receive a testimony of tithing by paying our tithing. We will only know that the Book of Mormon is true after reading it and praying about it. We will only know if the course we are pursuing is correct by first choosing it and then asking God if we are on the right course.
Regarding the principle of learning by doing, David McCullough remarked:
The great thing about the arts is that the only way you learn how to do it is by doing it. . . . You can’t learn to play the piano without playing the piano, you can’t learn to write without writing, and, in many ways, you can’t learn to think without thinking.17
At a BYU devotional President Gordon B. Hinckley said: “Work is the miracle by which talent is brought to the surface and dreams become reality.”18
Several years ago, when President Henry B. Eyring was serving as the Church commissioner of education, I had the opportunity to sit on the stand with him. While our dean was delivering his remarks, I noticed that President Eyring appeared to be taking notes in a small book he carried with him.
Following the devotional, I commended him for his diligence, and he responded by asking, “Do you want to see what I was doing?” He opened up what was a small sketchbook and, to my surprise and delight, quickly showed me some of the images he had been drawing. I often tell my students that they will know if they are artists if, when they observe, they draw; when they feel, they draw; and when they think, they draw.
In graduate school I encountered several different experiences that were challenging for me. One of those experiences involved an initial review for my master’s degree in which I was asked to stand onstage and defend my work to the entire Art Department faculty. I don’t believe I was very articulate or persuasive at the time because I failed to pass the review. That experience was extremely disappointing to me and to Vicki, especially after we had encountered the challenges of moving 1,200 miles away and were scrimping to pay out-of-state tuition.
But rejection caused me to dig deeper and pushed me outside my comfort zone. Through additional research I became exposed to different points of view and different philosophies, and I was able to understand the context of criticism leveled at a large body of representational work. I also came to realize why it was possible to be drawn toward figurative work and how to develop a justification for doing so. Research allowed me to develop an informed justification and critical theory for what I was drawn to and what I wanted to explore as an artist. My work became more than rendering objects; it began to include interpretation and concept. My own experiences were projected into my work, and my work became more personal and symbolic. I think my art ultimately became more interesting, and I passed my second review.
I routinely tell my students that if they want to progress rapidly in gaining new skills and different ways of seeing, they must be willing to leave their comfort zones and work on the very edge of their capabilities. They must be willing to take risks, fail, and try again. But unlike how it is with skydiving, I assure them that they do get more than one opportunity.
On one occasion, Elder Richard G. Scott described his visit to and fascination with an artist who happened to be the husband of his wife’s friend. He was impressed with the work he saw and wondered if it would be possible for him to create similar paintings. With some trepidation, Elder Scott bought an art book, read it, bought some paints, and painted a watercolor. He stated, “The results, even viewed charitably, were not very good.”19
Elder Scott experienced the temptation to quit or give up. However, he decided to pursue his ambition. He purchased better materials, received instruction, and was introduced to a number of master artists. He was rewarded by having one of his paintings juried into an art competition and having another one purchased. Regarding his experience, Elder Scott wrote:
Search for feelings that prompt you to try something new. . . . Otherwise you may never . . . enter the doors it opens to insight, enjoyment, and wonder.
Every individual has creative capacity. The satisfaction and growth creativity generates is intended for each of us, . . . [but trying] takes courage. . . . Believe in yourself. Doubt destroys creativity, while faith strengthens it.
. . . As you experiment with new things you will discover a great deal about yourself that likely won’t be revealed any other way.20
Following the completion of my graduate degree, I received a grant to complete a year of postgraduate work in Berlin, Germany. Spending a year in Berlin with a young family was not an easy experience. It did, however, end up being a very consequential experience. The City Colleges of Chicago had an extension in Berlin, and it was there that I had my first college teaching experience. I also had access to some of the great art of Europe, including several works by Rembrandt at the Dahlem Gallery. We were able to travel to other museums in East Berlin as well as to museums in Italy, the Netherlands, England, and Denmark.
While teaching at the Tempelhof Air Force Base, I learned more about the Berlin airlift and became aware of the story of Gail “Hal” Halvorsen, the Mormon Candy Bomber. Little did I realize that I would much later be illustrating the Candy Bomber’s story in a children’s book titled Christmas from Heaven: The True Story of the Berlin Candy Bomber. At a later book signing I had the opportunity to meet Hal for the first time.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” I said.
He responded, “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time as well.”
I related to him how we had lived in Berlin while I was doing postgraduate work and how I had taught classes at the air base. I explained that I had learned more about the airlift and his story but had never imagined I would be illustrating it one day.
He told me his father used to say, “Out of small things come great things.”
I responded, “That sounds almost scriptural.”
He responded, “Well, you and I both know that it is.”
Another important children’s book that I was fortunate to illustrate was Silent Night, Holy Night: The Story of the Christmas Truce. It portrayed the story of the 1914 Christmas truce that took place during World War I. On Christmas Day that year, combatants on both sides of the conflict laid down their arms for a brief period and joined in singing carols and remembering the Prince of Peace.
Don Mullan, an author, film producer, and human rights leader, organized a centennial commemoration of that truce to take place at the Church of St. Nicholas at Messines, Belgium, in 2014. He contacted me for permission to use the illustrations from my book as part of a permanent exhibition in the crypt of St. Nicholas. The purpose of the exhibition was not only to commemorate the Christmas truce but to create a place of pilgrimage for all lovers of peace and reconciliation in the world.
Don Mullan grew up in Derry, Ireland, and was fifteen years old when British soldiers killed twenty-seven unarmed civilians in his city. He was filled with anger and almost joined the Irish Republican Army. However, he admits that God was watching over him because the night he was to join, his sponsor did not show up. Don chose the path of peace instead, and he later wrote and produced a number of documentaries on the Irish Civil War. He traveled to BYU a few years ago and spoke to students and faculty in our department. Through his work as a writer and filmmaker, Don was in a unique position to communicate his intimate vision to our students and to me. As we walked across campus, he was ever curious, asking about each place and activity we encountered. He gave me the opportunity to see not only through his eyes but also through his thoughts and emotions.
Toward the conclusion of his visit at BYU, he wrote a message to a dear friend:
I wish you could be here with me over these sacred days at Brigham Young University. . . . As you know, I have, over my lifetime, been to many campuses, but I have never had this profound sense of the sacred before. The Mormon people I have had the privilege of meeting on this visit are deeply and profoundly Christian. . . . It has been a deep, spiritual privilege to have been blessed with the grace of walking among them.21
Don is a Roman Catholic. He helped me see the surprising beauty and spirituality that was in front of me here at BYU and helped me celebrate that which I might otherwise have passed by without noticing.
It has been said that the source of interesting pictures is life and that life is a function of experience. In other words, your experience is your life. The type of experience that is most influential to artists and illustrators, as well as to their audience, is visual. Illustrators are visual storytellers. The word illustration derives from the Latin word illustrare, which means “to illuminate or make bright.” Historically the Bible and other important books and manuscripts had their stories illuminated with letters, designs, and paintings.
In her book entitled The Shelter of Each Other, clinical psychologist Mary Pipher wrote:
I am an advocate for more stories, not fewer. I like to hear that extended family, neighbors, old people, people from different backgrounds, poets, teachers and children are telling stories to each other. Everyone has stories to tell. Stories are about imagination and hope. They are, to quote poet William Stafford, “about discovering what the world is trying to be.”22
President Dallin H. Oaks and Sister Kristin M. Oaks spoke about the importance of stories at RootsTech Family Discovery Day in February of this year. President Oaks taught:
A recent study by a university in the South concludes persuasively that if you want a happier family, create, refine, and retell the stories of your ancestors’ positive moments. Emphasize their ability to . . . persist through adversity. That act alone will increase the odds that your family will thrive for many generations to come.
Family stories count. Children should know that they belong to something bigger than themselves.23
Author David McCullough felt that “all history is family history.”24 And it has been said that “to be a person is to have a story to tell.”25
Stories are a way to preserve our history and culture, passing it along to the next generation in a form that is easy for others to remember. Stories help us explore possibilities. One of the most basic functions of a story is to teach. When we tell stories about ourselves, we are imagining our possible futures and, hopefully, helping ourselves choose the best ones. Stories bind us together and reveal our humanity.
In his bestselling book on art education, Samuel Adoquei stated:
All students have what it takes to turn their artistic abilities into the realization of their dreams. What is needed for things to happen is hidden until they search for it. . . .
All students have the potential to become as good as they envision themselves capable of becoming.26
One of the greatest blessings for our students and faculty has been our visiting lecturer program. We are so very grateful for the resources BYU and generous donors have provided to make this a possibility. As part of this program, earlier this year we were able to host the award-winning illustrator Jerry Pinkney.
Jerry grew up in a segregated neighborhood of Philadelphia in a small home with two parents and five siblings. Drawing became his private space. He was not able to join certain organizations or go to certain places because of his race. His mother read to him fables, legends, and folktales, and she told stories of African and African American culture. Jerry was dyslexic but came to love literature. He became passionate about drawing, which was easier for him than reading, and he routinely showed his creative work to his teachers to demonstrate his interest in learning. When he began his career, he was told there was no opportunity for African Americans in the children’s book publishing industry, but he persisted and is now both illustrating and writing his own stories. In 1995 Jerry was awarded a Caldecott Honor Award for his illustrations in the children’s book John Henry.
To our students, he said:
I am a storyteller at heart. For me, stories transformed my everyday life. They sparked my curiosity and provided an escape from a crowded environment.
Deal with hard things. Challenge the status quo and your own prejudices. Embrace your limitations. Be willing to take risks. . . . Continue to grow. You will grow if you want to grow.27
Mary Pipher wrote:
Good stories have the power to save us. Reality is full of cautionary tales, heroes and difficult obstacles overcome through persistence. The best resource against the world’s stupidity, meanness and despair is simply telling the truth with all its ambiguity and complexity. We all can make a difference by simply sharing our own stories with real people in real times and places.
There are many stories yet unborn. The best stories are stories that help us see the complexities faced by others. We need stories to connect us with each other, stories to heal the polarization that can overwhelm us all and stories to calm those who are frightened and who hate. These stories would offer us the possibility of reconciliation. We need stories that teach children empathy and accountability, how to act and how to be. Children are hungry for stories that help them feel hopeful and energetic.28
While on my mission in Germany, I was able to meet and teach Dorena Lange (Damerius), a young art history student who was studying at the Free University in Berlin. After I baptized her, she made it known to me that she was one of those spoken about in my patriarchal blessing. I returned to Berlin five years after my mission, and Vicki and I were able to spend time with Dorena and her family, whom she had introduced to the Church. We had two daughters and were expecting our third child at the time. The Damerius family had two sons and were expecting their third child. Vicki and Dorena delivered within a week of each other.
In a letter she wrote to me after my mission, Dorena described how the artist Michelangelo believed in the principle of eternal progression. She informed me that through her studies she had learned that he believed that the ultimate destiny of the human race was to attain a position that was like unto God. Michelangelo said:
True art is made noble and religious by the mind producing it. For, for those who feel it, nothing makes the soul so religious and pure as the endeavor to create something perfect; for God is perfection, and whoever strives after it, is striving after something divine.29
All of the individuals I have mentioned had the courage and motivation to endure hard things and experience great achievement.
I am grateful to have been associated with this great university. I have met so many remarkable individuals in my tenure here. I am thankful for the students I have been privileged to teach and for loyal friends and colleagues. I am grateful for family—parents and grandparents—who have shared their extraordinary stories with me verbally, in letters, and in journals. I am thankful for parents who taught their family the value and power of education and for a mother who read great stories to us as children, including the stories of Jesus.
I am grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ, for the Savior’s life and sacrifice, and for the gospel restored in these the latter days. I am thankful for the scriptures and for the lives of the prophets. I bear testimony that the Savior lives, that this is His Church, and that we are led by living prophets, seers, and revelators. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
1. Spencer W. Kimball, “Education for Eternity,” pre-school address to BYU faculty and staff, 12 September 1967, 16; quoting Michelangelo Buonarroti in his letter to Niccolò Martelli, 20 January 1542, in John Addington Symonds, The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti: Based on Studies in the Archives of the Buonarroti Family at Florence, 3rd ed. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1911), 2:68.
2. Allison Malafronte, “Michelangelo: ‘More Than Mortal,’” Artist’s Magazine 35, no. 4 (May 2018): 58.
3. Francisco de Hollanda, describing his conversation with Michelangelo Buonarroti, in Diálogos em Roma (1538): Conversations on Art with Michelangelo Buonarroti, ed. Grazia Dolores Folliero-Metz (Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1998), 112.
4. Malafronte, “Michelangelo,” 62.
5. Ruby Bridges, quoted in Court Mann, “More Than Meets the Eye: A Look at BYU’s New Norman Rockwell Exhibit,” Daily Herald, 20 November 2015, heraldextra.com/entertainment/arts-and-theatre/visual/a-look-at-byu-s-new-norman-rockwell-exhibit/article_021cfc74-f708-55e7-a6e1-a2a0e544c887.html.
6. Ruby Bridges, reconstructed from personal notes taken by Robert T. Barrett at a lecture given by Ruby Bridges, BYU Museum of Art, 19 November 2015; see Whitney Hales, “Ruby Bridges Speaks on Civil Rights at BYU,” Daily Universe, 20 November 2015, universe.byu.edu/2015/11/20/ruby-bridges-speaks-on-civil-rights-at-byu1.
7. Ruby Bridges, reconstructed from personal notes taken by Robert Barrett; see Hales, “Ruby Bridges.”
8. Thomas S. Monson, “Our Sacred Priesthood Trust,” Ensign, May 2006.
9. Roger Scruton, Why Beauty Matters, directed by Louise Lockwood (United Kingdom: BBC Two, 2009), 3:04–14, 38:57–39:02.
10. David McCullough, The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2011), 411; quoting John Hafen, “An Art Student in Paris,” Contributor 15, no. 8 (June 1894): 485.
11. Hafen, “Art Student,” 485; also quoted in Linda Jones Gibbs, Harvesting the Light: The Paris Art Mission and Beginnings of Utah Impressionism (Salt Lake City: Corporation of the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1987), 3.
12. Gibbs, Harvesting the Light, 18.
13. See Boyd K. Packer, The Artist and the Spirit: A Conversation with President Boyd K. Packer and James C. Christensen, videocassette recording (Provo: LDS Motion Picture Studio, 1998). A recording of the interview can be found on YouTube: Michael Hicks, “Elder Boyd K. Packer on the Arts,” 16 November 2017, see minutes 8:10–11:21, youtube.com/watch?v=pOyTva-Bras.
14. D&C 9:7.
15. D&C 9:8.
16. John 7:17.
17. David McCullough, in Bruce Cole, “A Visit with Historian David McCullough,” Humanities 24, no. 3 (May/June 2003): 41.
18. Gordon B. Hinckley, “To a Man Who Has Done What This Church Expects of Each of Us,” BYU devotional address, 17 October 1995.
19. Richard G. Scott, 21 Principles: Divine Truths to Help You Live by the Spirit (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2013), 19.
20. Scott, 21 Principles, 21.
21. Don Mullan, unpublished letter shared with Robert T. Barrett; used by permission.
22. Mary Pipher, The Shelter of Each Other: Rebuilding Our Families (New York: Ballantine Books, 1996), 271; paraphrasing William E. Stafford, Writing the Australian Crawl: Views on the Writer’s Vocation (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1978), 123.
23. Dallin H. Oaks and Kristin M. Oaks, “Full Session: President and Sister Oaks,” address
at RootsTech Family Discovery Day, Salt Lake City, Utah, 3 March 2018, lds.org/family-history/video/full-session-president-and-sister-oaks?lang=eng.
24. Carma Wadley, summarizing David McCullough’s visit to Salt Lake City, in “History Is Centered in the Family, Historian David McCullough Says,” Deseret News, 29 April 2010, deseretnews.com/article/700028452/History
-McCullough-says.html. During his visit, David McCullough said, “It is through the family that we get to the vital nerve center of history. History is about life, one generation to another” (address at the National Genealogical Society Family History Conference, Salt Lake City, Utah, 29 April 2010; cited in Wadley, “History Is Centered”).
25. Sam Keen and Anne Valley-Fox, Your Mythic Journey: Finding Meaning in Your Life Through Writing and Storytelling (Los Angeles: Jeremy P. Tarcher, 1989), 1.
26. Samuel Adoquei, How Successful Artists Study: Effective Learning Ideas and Knowledge for Artists (New York: Samuel Adoquei, 2010), 1, 6.
27. Jerry Pinkney, reconstructed from personal notes taken by Robert Barrett at a lecture given by Jerry Pinkney, Brigham Young University, 17 January 2018.
28. Pipher, Shelter of Each Other, 271.
29. Michelangelo Buonarroti, according to Francesco d’Ollanda (Francisco de Hollanda) in Herman Grimm, Life of Michelangelo, trans. Fanny Elizabeth Bunnett (Boston: Little, Brown, 1890), 2:303.
30. G. L. LeBon, letter to Norman Rockwell in regard to the painting The Problem We All Deal With, 5 January 1964, Norman Rockwell Museum, Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
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Robert T. Barrett, a BYU professor of illustration in the Department of Design, delivered this devotional address on May 8, 2018.