Art is Surival: Tribute to David Chaplin
By Trent Thursby Alvey

In 1960 when I started Jr. High School, my home life was very unhappy and violent. My family had just moved to SLC from rural Utah where my Dad had been a forest ranger for 30 years. The move was hard on everyone and the turmoil had increased. Thirteen is a vulnerable age, from the familial uncertainty to the drama of puberty. That is when patterns for your life are established. That is when I met my junior high school art teacher, David Chaplin.

Learning art from Mr. Chaplin led me to the slow discovery that I had an outlet for my feelings. By learning to make art, I had a powerful tool, a process for channeling emotions, a method for sorting out a very confusing life. Just by doing art, I could feel better. More free. Less burdened. Almost carefree. From those years of Mr. Chaplin’s art instruction, I had a survival kit for the rest of my life, even though I may not have realized it at the time.

I remember asking Mr. Chaplin one day at a Park City Summer art class, “How do you know when you are an artist?” He answered after two or three thoughtful tokes on his pipe, “Well, you either call yourself an artist or someone else calls you an artist.” Oddly this precisely answered the question for me.

I am always sustained by art. Looking at life’s good and bad times as an artist gives you the distinct advantage of standing back, even from yourself and seeing with new clarity. I have always used art to attain a vantage point outside of emotion. I discovered that keeping a journal of drawings and words allowed me to see larger patterns and trends occurring not only in my life, but in social and political realms, as well.

I believe that we are all creative beings. I see this entire life as a test of one’s creativity. Unfortunately, creativity is not self-evident. Someone must awaken your creative intelligence, otherwise it can remain undiscovered or languish into a dull, repetitive program in your head that no longer permits you to see with a child’s eyes. I believe that the creative process is fragile in the beginning and must be recognized and encouraged. I feel that because Mr. Chaplin’s art classes were an opportunity to drop your guard, release your imagination and be rewarded for it, many creative spirits were kindled. Teaching creative behavior is Mr. Chaplin’s greatest gift and he has dedicated his life to it.

I remember being very aware that Mr. Chaplin was one of the few adult persons I had met that did not react to a given situation in a prescribed way. This, for me, was the hook that captured my full attention. He was not just another adult reacting predictably to the many trials that young people throw out to test the waters.
One day in class, I remember that there was a tremendous buzz going around the room, because one of our eighth grade mates had written a pornographic story - soft, by today’s standards, but non the less relating to bestiality. It had been passes around to anyone curious enough to read it. Finally, Mr. Chaplin froze the projector on Modigliani’s ____title____, as he was trying to show slides of early twentieth century modern painters, and said, “what is all the excitement about?” He intercepted the tattered piece of paper going from student to student. “Oh, this!” he said. “This is a very creative piece of story telling, but not appropriate in school.” And with that crumpled it up and put it in his pocket. He dismissed the situation, so that it then seemed very unimportant and we could all go on with what we were there to learn.

I recall one art project specifically. We instructed, by Mr. Chaplin, to build anything we wanted with toothpicks and glue. Some people were working on challenging architectural structures, others on extensive barnyard scenes, as I recall. I had learned to take his words literally, if he said, “anything” he must have meant it. I proceeded to take all of my toothpicks and pile them up randomly with one hand, glue in the other, mixing enough of one to secure the other, thereby building up a beautiful and unpredictable sculpture. Thinking about it now, it was a premonition of my later extreme interest in the physics principle . . . order in chaos. I was praised heavily by Mr. Chaplin. The courage that I gained from that experience, was invaluable. He had a way of evening the playing field for the kids, like myself, who were either misfits or a bit too particular for the mainstream, giving us permission to continue in our own way.

The gift that David Chaplin has given to all of us is even greater than the ability to create art. It is the power of critical and innovative thinking. Creative thinking precedes not only accomplishments in art but, discoveries in science and leaps in culture and spirituality. Without creative thinking, we cannot hope to bring civilization to new frontiers.

Mr. Chaplin’s encouragement in those formative years set into motion a lifelong propensity for questioning the true nature of reality. So by questioning the wisdom of the status quo, by examining political motivation, interpersonal relationships, and cultural trends, I learn a lot about myself and the world.

I have learned that being an artist carries with it responsibility. Artists are messengers, capable in the dialogue of translation, bringing forth visceral images from many planes past present and future, interpreting the way we see familiar objects, as well as, perceiving a larger reality of patterns and repetitions as old as time. The relevance of being an artist is larger than the self. It is literally the job of the artist to perceive and record their perceptions, which then facilitates a greater understanding by viewers. It’s not art until it’s physically recorded —painted, sculpted, assembled, printed, performed or written. And then it impacts the world forever.

Mr. Chaplin, I can simply say, thank you for such a gift of survival, knowledge, spirituality, truth and renewal.