His pipe was a fragrant addition
to his personality.
Quiet demeanor, pleasant smile.
A beacon in the crazy sixties
when sepia clouded one’s thoughts
and monopolized paintings.

The top of the watercolor tube
wouldn’t budge.
“Always carry matches
in your kit” he told us.
Fire loosens the top
and opens a radiant pigment

“Don’t overwork it.
Know when to stop.”
"Add people, they make
a painting interesting.”
He liked people.

“Go from light to dark.”
Cadmium yellow swept
across the paper.
Clean, crisp.

He gave us his “throwaway” art.
A nicely framed collection to
study and bring inspiration
on days when I didn’t want to work.

Outside classes.
Lessons in more than art.
A painting created with
wildflowers, leaves and a burned twig.
“No excuses for no materials.”

He was a realist in his work and
his thinking. A rare bread among
tempermental professors who
tore student’s work to shreads,
stomped on it and shouted obsenities.

Abstract expressionsts who “graded”
our work, when shape, balance,
depth and energy were so personal.

Thirty-two years have passed
since I sat in his classes, and
yet his work is forever in my mind,
and his influence is in my hands.


In memory of
Richard Brough
1920~1996