Edward J. Fraughton

How I came to be artist is still a bit of a mystery. Park City, the colorful Utah community where 1 was born and grew up, was quietly fading into oblivion, not so much because the rich silver ore had spent itself but because times were simply different. Although our family never owned a car or enjoyed the luxury of hot run￾ning water, I was blessed to have an inspired mother, a devoted step-father, wonderful friends and teachers who deeply believed in me. My university years were bittersweet – sweet because I discovered my potential – bitter because my choices at the time were considered and judged “politically incorrect.” Refusing to bow to several of my professors’ emphasis on style over substance, I was punished by being denied the right to complete the final quarter toward my master’s degree. This had been an important goal for which I had worked a night shift at a steel mill for over five years. Recognition from my peers at the National Sculpture Society, National Academy of Design, and National Academy of Western Art soon redeemed me from my stubborn resolve to add something of my own to six thousand years of traditional sculpture. This summer’s retrospective exhibition of my work at the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa confirmed that my youthful dreams could be fulfilled.