When Robert Lostutter starts to paint, everything is up for grabs.
Beneath his brush, a human face may suddenly start to sprout feathers. A nose may begin to transform into a beak. His men and women remain calm through it all, even as their features take on a bird-like mask or merge with flower petals.
But for the Emporia-born artist now living in Chicago, the greatest transformation of all begins with the first brush stroke.
“I think it was that love of a clean, hard sheet of paper,” Lostutter said as he thought back to where his passion for paint began. “The possibilities are endless. Just put a piece of paper in front of me and I’m a happy person.”
The happiness seems contagious. Lostutter’s work has been exhibited nationwide and gets frequent showings in Chicago, his home since the late 1950s. At the end of December, The Chicago Tribune named Lostutter one of its Chicagoans of the Year.
And if Chicago loves Lostutter, well, he’s returned the favor for a long time now.
“I stepped off the train in Chicago and I knew I was home,” he said. “I love this city. I have never gotten up in the morning and said ‘I don’t want to be here.’
“I love New York, too, but I don’t want to live in New York,” he added. “And not living in New York, you pay a price for it if you’re an artist. But I’m willing to pay that price.”
Lostutter’s love for art has deep roots. One grandmother taught him to draw when he was four or five years old. Another constantly encouraged him and even gave him some financial help when he went to art school — just enough to cover rent, food and art supplies.
He learned a love of nature early on as well. Part of that came from frequent visits to a grandfather’s ranch in the Flint Hills, part from studying the birds that his father stuffed as a hobby. Many of those bird features that he came to know so well would reappear in his paintings as an adult.
He knew almost from the start that he was going to be an artist when he grew up — a decision that didn’t initially sit well at home.
“My folks were not as happy about it as I was,” Lostutter said. “They’d say ‘We know you have this little talent, but what are you going to do with your life?”
He knew. So did a growing number of others. One big influence, high school teacher Mary Kretsinger, even exposed him to Japanese art and kabuki theater, giving him still more to draw on. By the time he arrived at the Chicago Art Institute, he was ready to make his mark.
As it happened, breaking in took a little bit of luck.
“When I started here many years ago, there was no gallery system,” Lostutter said. “There were maybe three that people would show at, and those were mostly New York works.”
Then, as Lostutter was struggling through a number of different day jobs, a friend opened a small gallery and put on an all-Chicago exhibition. The gallery didn’t last long. But it lasted long enough for someone from the new Museum of Contemporary Art to notice one of Lostutter’s paintings and approach him.
“He asked why I wasn’t showing my work,” Lostutter said. “He said it needed to be shown.”
His first show, in 1971, sold out. So did the second one. And things have pretty much taken off ever since.
The passion’s never died, even after a quadruple bypass seven years ago. He’s still eager to start the day, still ready to paint just one more thing.
“I keep thinking, life’s a finite thing and there’s so much I want to accomplish with it,” he said. “I won’t get to all of it, but I want to get to as much of it as I can.”