My Mentor- Alvin Gittins My first association with Professor Alvin Gittins took place in the WWII surplus Art Building on the upper campus of the University of Utah.  This is the location where he, with my other mentors, Doug Snow and James MacBeth, trod the brown linoleum floor of the breezy wooden building. I soon fell under the spell of this great man when, along with twenty or so other art students huddled around his easel, he, in his Saville Row green suit, white Oxford shirt and tie, drew with graceful ease an astonishingly brilliant charcoal rendering of the model.  Never had I seen a performance by an artist.  Yes, I’d seen reproductions of the great draftsmen of the past, but I’d never seen it happen!  I’m sure that I was shaken.  I’m sure that I would never measure up to the undeniably high standard of craftsmanship and facility.  How could he do that?  Could I ever learn to do that myself?  Where do you get one of those suits? Over the next very few years I hung on Gittins’ every word.  I attempted to absorb his every stroke with charcoal and paintbrush.  I stood for hours staring at his formal portraits that were hanging here and there on campus.  I attempted affecting his British accent, but growing a moustache like his I knew was beyond me.  Still, it was his ability to create an image that was alive.  The energy of these human figures captivated me as much as the presence of the man. Though he was acknowledged to be a first-rate portrait artist and painter, he was also a person who taught with the same ease and facility that he drew and painted.  His ability to communicate in so many ways to me – it always seemed he was speaking only to me – that made me honor him above all other teachers. My interests, as far as my personal expression, diverged away from Gittens’ more traditional genre.  But I was guided by the quality of his work in the classroom, at the easel or one to one with a student.  And no, I’ve never found one of those suits. David Chaplin