Normal Roots

Why Don’t You Just Be An Artist?

Some people find their calling late in life. Others, like Brian Frink, seem to be born with it already humming in their bones. Raised near Chicago in Plainfield, Illinois, Brian’s earliest memories of art involve standing in front of a towering Clifford Still painting at the Art Institute of Chicago, feeling something stir inside him that he couldn’t yet name. That spark would set the course for a life fully immersed in art, from studying at Illinois State University to navigating the gritty New York art scene, and eventually landing in Minnesota, where he’s built an artistic legacy that bridges past, present, and future.

From ISU to New York: Chasing the Art Dream

Following in the footsteps of his family of teachers, Brian began at ISU as an art education major. Midway through, he realized that path wasn’t for him. Unsure of what to do next, a conversation with Rod Carswell in an elevator changed everything. “Why don’t you just be an artist?” Carswell asked—a casual suggestion that gave Brian the push he needed.

During his time at ISU, the art program was evolving. The school introduced the Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) degree, and Brian was among the first to receive one in 1979, thanks to a scholarship that allowed him to stay for a fifth year. Under the mentorship of Harold Gregor, Ken Holder, and Rod Carswell, he absorbed the idea that art wasn’t just a hobby—it was a profession. Visiting artists who spoke to his classes reinforced the idea that if he wanted to make a living as an artist, New York City was the place to be.

So, after graduation, Brian packed up and moved to Williamsburg, a neighborhood in Brooklyn. He rented a 2,000-square-foot loft for just $175 a month—a price almost unthinkable today. New York in the late ’70s was a charged, creative space. ISU alums like Nick Africano were making waves, and young artists like Brian felt a sense of purpose driving them forward. Life in Williamsburg, however, was tough—it was gritty and dangerous. Still, Brian was immersed in the city’s art world, balancing jobs as an electrician to make ends meet while painting and absorbing the city’s raw energy.

The Unexpected Pull of Academia

When Brian and his partner had their first child, they began to seriously consider their future in New York. He described their neighborhood as increasingly unsafe, not the environment where they wanted to raise a family. As they navigated this uncertain time, a chance conversation opened the door to grad school—something Brian had never planned on. “I thought grad school meant writing papers,” he says. “I didn’t want to do any of that.” A retired professor from Bradley University, impressed with Brian’s work, casually suggested he apply to the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s MFA program.

Brian applied months past the deadline, was accepted, and saw the campus for the first time the day they arrived with their moving truck. What was supposed to be a two-year program turned into six. “Grad school was basically a cheap studio,” Brian jokes. He stayed longer than planned, stretching out the experience, until finally, an unexpected job interview changed his trajectory yet again. Minnesota State University, Mankato, was looking for an art professor. Brian wasn’t looking for a job, but he got the position—and stayed for 32 years, teaching, mentoring, and shaping young artists. He eventually served as department chair before retiring just three years ago.

The Poor Farm: A Creative Haven

After decades in academia, Brian and his partner, Wilbur, made a bold move: they bought the Blue Earth County Poor Farm in Minnesota—a sprawling 9,000-square-foot building dating back to 1877. Originally designed to house 44 people, they transformed it into a creative sanctuary, complete with studios, a gallery, and a wood-fired pizza oven for art openings. It’s here that Brian fully embraced his post-teaching life. It is a hub for making, gathering, and continuing the artistic dialogue.

The Evolution of an Artist

Brian’s work has always been rooted in landscape painting, but he thrives on experimentation. Over the years, he’s explored new processes, techniques, and ways of engaging with his audience. If there’s one throughline in Brian’s career, it’s evolution. His work has taken many detours—including an unexpected foray into pet portraits that started as a favor and turned into a lucrative commission business.

What began as a simple gift for his daughter’s father-in-law turned into a full-on exploration of audience engagement, scale, and concept. “I was shifting my audience from an anonymous art world to a single, specific person,” Brian explains. “It changed how I thought about making art.” It wasn’t just about painting animals; it was a shift in audience, from the abstract idea of a gallery visitor to a specific, real person with expectations and emotional investment in the piece.

Lately, he’s been incorporating technology into his work, using a large-format printer to print on canvas before painting over the images. But no matter what he’s doing, he’s always trying to navigate one core challenge: knowing when to stop. “There’s this really interesting edge when something isn’t overworked,” Brian says. “And I habitually seem to go over that edge.”

Advice for Artists Finding Their Way

Brian knows what it’s like to step out of the structure of school and face the question: what now? His advice? Build a community, stay uncomfortable, and trust your gut.

• On Creative Blocks: “Give yourself grace. If you’re not making art for a bit, that’s okay. Just stay engaged in some way.”
• On Leaving School: “You’re paying for a community when you’re in college. When you leave, you have to rebuild that yourself.”
• On Career Paths: “I never planned any of this. I just worked hard and followed what felt right. Sometimes that meant turning my back on opportunities that looked ‘obvious.’”
• On Money: “Artists don’t talk enough about money. Learn how to handle it. Learn how to make it. Art is work.”

The Legacy in Motion

Brian’s story is about building connections, embracing evolution, and proving that a creative life is possible outside of big cities and traditional paths. It’s a testament to trusting your instincts, welcoming unexpected shifts, and maintaining an ongoing dialogue with your art—making work in ways that make sense for you. Whether it’s teaching, experimenting with new materials, or hosting exhibitions, Brian and Wilbur continue to explore new ways to engage with their community and the art world at large.

For those seeking inspiration, Brian’s journey is a reminder that art isn’t just a career or a calling—it’s a lifelong conversation, full of unexpected turns, risk-taking, and, if you’re lucky, a few really good pizzas along the way.

Before wrapping up, we couldn’t resist throwing a few quick questions at Brian. Here’s what he had to say in our Rapid-Fire Q&A:

How he defines success now vs. when he started: “It hasn’t changed much. It’s still about making something that resonates, that challenges me.”

A project he hasn’t made yet but can’t stop thinking about: A massive hybrid print-painting, 8 by 10 feet or larger.

An artist who deserves more recognition: His late friend, Rita Finnegan, an ISU alum and Brooklyn-based painter.

A surprising side skill that sustained his art career: Pizza-making! He worked at Kelly’s Pizza in college and now fires up a wood oven for art openings.

One thing he’d change about the art world: He’d break down the hierarchy that prioritizes big-city, high-market artists over rural and independent creators.

The best advice he’s ever ignored: “Don’t buy that house.” (His mom’s warning about the Poor Farm—turns out, she wasn’t wrong about it being a lot of work.)

Interview by Kelsey DeGreef for Normal Roots.