By ANDREW MARTIN
Rick Devin didn’t always want to be an artist.
The 62-year-old Hope Valley resident attended Oklahoma State University in the 1960s with the hopes of one day owning a restaurant. This was before everyone else wanted to do that, he said. But it didn’t work out.
The science of owning a restaurant is what turned Devin off. He took the introductory Chemistry class and struggled with the work. “I just didn’t take to it,” he said. After a talk with his brother-in-law, who convinced Devin to study art, he began taking classes like calligraphy.
“Then I dropped out because I didn’t like my teachers,” Devin said while laughing. “One of them told me that left-handed people can’t be artists.”
Devin then had a short-lived stint as a laundry truck driver before enrolling at Point Park University in Pittsburgh, Pa. It was there that he would receive a Bachelor’s in Environmental Design and begin his artistic path.
After working for an advertising agency, publishing a book of drawings, and establishing a gallery in Pittsburgh, Devin and his wife moved to Narragansett in 1980. “We had just put down money on a house in Philadelphia but we were just so taken by the ocean and country,” he said. His wife had become a librarian at the University of Rhode Island, where she is now the head of reference.
Two years later, the couple moved to 1054 Main St., Hope Valley, where Devin’s gallery is open to the public. Enter the home and you will find art ranging from three-dimensional figures to paintings. Although the medium varies, the subject remains similar.
Devin focuses much of his work on anthropomorphism, or the attribution of human qualities to non-human beings like animals.
For example, he has numerous figures like the Manitoba Bellhop, which is a polar bear in bellhop’s clothing. His inspiration for this piece came from reading an article about polar bears in Manitoba, Canada. The bellhop portion of it is derived from the number of hotels in the Canadian province.
“Some of it is cutesy, but there are others with more meaning,” Devin said. He then pointed out a water buffalo dressed as a Tanzanian Mystic. Although he isn’t into mysticism himself, he said he likes the titles and pomp associated with religion.
Besides being able to sell his works and sustain his profession, Devin’s decision to become a full-time artist gave him plenty of time to care for his sons. Three months after the birth of his first child, his wife had to return to work so Devin split his days between his craft and being a father.
The artist’s attachment to his sons was most apparent when the phone rang during our interview. It might be my son, he said, explaining that the young man was driving home from college in the Northwest. To make matters more worrisome, this son drives a more than 20-year-old Mercedes that was converted to run on vegetable oil.
“It just makes me worry. And I’ll feel this way when they’re 40 years old, too,” Devin said.
As for what inspired him to become an artist, Devin couldn’t really narrow it down. Although both of his parents were creative – his father was a talented sketch artist and his mother designed slipcovers and curtains - neither really pushed him into the arts. “My mom would always say ‘you’re prices are too high’,” Devin said with a laugh.
He was always using his imagination in some way, though. Childhood toys soon became Frankensteins of their former selves. Devin would take them apart and mix and match different pieces of wind-up toys, for example. Drawing was also one of his hobbies.
There are a lot of artists in the area, Devin said, as well as a lot of interest. As part of the HopArts event last October, he opened his home to anyone interested in viewing his work. “I had more than 350 people in here over the weekend from all over the tri-state area,” he said.
But other than HopArts, Devin said he tends to keep to himself. For him, the politics involved with organized artist groups is what kills the joy of working with others. “It just loses the spontaneity and the fun,” he said.
Devin also said he strays from making prints of his pieces. He finds the repetitive work associated with the process to be boring. “I would rather do things I don’t have to frame under glass,” he added. Devin’s gallery is open daily, but he recommends calling ahead to make sure he is there. His number is 539-8627 or he can be reached via e-mail at
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