In memory of Pat Sloan...

Monday I got word that my dear friend, business partner and mentor Pat Sloan passed away over the weekend.

Our lives first crossed at Pier 1 Imports, where she was my supervisor in the marketing/advertising department. We all had nicknames (I was Ralph) and for some reason, lost to my memory, she was dubbed "Patsy Bob." She possessed an infectious smile and enthusiastic approach to all challenges.

We both eventually left but stayed in touch. At the reception for one of her daughters' wedding, she said she was ready for a new challenge (this was around 1994). I said there was this new thing called the world wide web...

We positioned ourselves as web designers (back then if you knew what HTML stood for, you could call yourself a web designer), and landed Michaels Stores as our first client. We did all of our initial presentations on layout pads in marker and somehow beat out the Richards Group, probably because we had no idea how to price ourselves. Since Pat was a much better designer than I, my role morphed into that of technical support, although for some of the really heavy coding, we pulled in Matt Tomlinson, an amazingly bright TCU student.

Pat's backyard guest house office became our command headquarters. Her dog Bosley was appointed office manager. Much of what I know about project planning I learned from her. She included everything when bidding a job. 

My youngest son, Edward (in preschool at the time) loved to visit Pat because she had a never-ending supply of exotic pens she would generously give him.

The Michaels gig lasted about 5 years, during which time we were responsible for all creative and technical support on the site. We did some amazingly fun stuff: store locator, on-line greeting cards, coloring books, midi-jukeboxes, holiday games -- all long before this type of thing was common. When they finally saw the value of the site and took it in-house, they hired 47 people to do the work the 3 of us had done.

My favorite quote from those days came from something that became a bit of a in-joke. A client once asked her about some technical issue and she replied, "We can do that, can't you Ron?"

After Michaels, we worked on a variety of other small projects, but the first dot-com bubble was drawing to a close. When the bubble burst, new work got increasingly hard to find. I took a position in Bell Helicopter's eBusiness group and Pat re-focused her talents on print advertising. We continued to stay in touch, although our schedules and respective family responsibilities made those get-togethers less frequent.

The last several years of Pat's life she taught graphic design at TCU, where she was a popular lecturer. Despite ongoing health issues she never seemed to loose her sunny outlook. The academic world has lost a great source of wisdom.

Her design sense was a reflection of her personality: witty, stylish, and full of fun.

Good night, Patsy Bob. We'll miss you.

Henry Whiddon - Rest in Peace

I got a message on the answering machine the other day that delivered the sad news that Henry Whiddon, UNT Art Professor Emeritus, had passed from this veil of tears.

Henry had been one of my professors when I was in graduate school at UNT and eventually served as my thesis advisor, as well as my mentor, role model and friend.

At the time I started graduate school, I had just finished working eight year in advertising, with the result that I had developed an unfortunate sense of emotional detachment from my work.

I did stuff I thought was clever that I didn't really care much about.

Henry was not the only one to see through this lack of involvement, but he was the one patient enough to talk about it; usually with roundabout parables and analogies that made his point with kindness and gentleness without bitch-slapping. He had a rare gift for telling you things you needed to hear, both good and not so good, but with a kindness that never left you feeling beat up or defeated. His sense of calm was infectious and much appreciated.

I called Chris Goebel, who'd left me the answering machine message and we regaled each other with our memories of Henry. Chris had been an undergraduate at Texas Wesleyan College (now University) when Henry was chairman of the Art Department. It sounds like they had the kind of freedom that comes from not being noticed.

Reading the online obituary I learned a few things I'd never known about my former teacher: he'd worked as a senior set designer for the Atlanta Municipal Summer Theater while a grad student at the University of Georgia. TWC hired him when he was only 30.

By the time I'd washed up on his academic shore he was in mid fifties (ironically, where I am now). He never lost his appreciation for the silliness of life but could, at the same time, conjure up these little life-altering suggestions. I remember once, when I'd used up my store of clever (i.e. crappy, contrived) ideas for paintings, he recommended I go find a copy of The Golden Bough by James Frazer. When you get stuck, he told me, turn to any page at random and start reading -- you're bound to find something to inspire you. I took his advice and found an idea I used for 3 years.

Now when I teach, it is his encouraging, kind and patient manner that I attempt to emulate when giving feedback to my students. I don't always succeed, but at least I know what I should be doing.

God bless you, Henry, where ever you are.

Ted Pillsbury : 1943 - 2010

Ted Pillsbury, longtime director of the Kimbell Art Museum passed away on Thursday of an apparent heart attack at age 66. Most in the art world would probably agree he was largely responsible for making the Kimbell into a world class museum.

Edmund P. Pillsbury, who held a doctorate in Italian Renaissance art from the Courtauld Institute of Art, served as museum director from 1980 to 1998, and was responsible for numerous important acquisitions and major exhibitions.

The Dallas Morning News website has good overview of his career as does the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. KERA has posted a video of a 1998 interview with Dr. Pillsbury.