Stephen Froiland

I received an e-mail today informing many of the alumni of Trinity at River Ridge that former art teacher Stephen Froiland passed away on Tuesday. To me, this proved to be quite the shock. He had been living with Crohn's disease for years and liver cancer apparently. From the sounds of it, I think the family knew it was coming... but I didn't. Needless to say, it shook me up. He was my art teacher at the end of my Trinity career and he was the one who helped me come into my own as an artist. I accomplished more than I could under his guidance. Seeing his passion in the classroom every day was a true inspiration of the power that creating visual art could have on one's life.

I developed my love of Bougereau, Waterhouse, and Leighton because of him. He encouraged me in my creativity and gumption within my own art form. He gave me ideas and ways to explore them. I still have a work that I have been piddling with since my senior year that he helped me with. (For those in my class, does "siren" ring a bell?) I have so many memories of discussions and true encouragement from him. Even after graduating, I would look forward to the conversations that I could have with him in the hallways during quick visits. He always encouraged me to keep painting, drawing, and creating art... and I have. It has been an outlet for emotions of all kinds: a way to grieve, a support to others, a celebration of joy, an expression of longing, an honoring for loved ones, and a transfer of feelings that can't be expressed in words.

He was an amazing artist and I always regretted the fact that I was never able to visit his rented studio space that was located near one of my favorite coffee shops. (Jeremy, I think it was by Black Dog Cafe.) So, I honor him for his passion in life for art, teaching, working with ambitious teenagers, his courage, and his steadfastness. I hope to be able to affect the lives of my own students as he affected mine. In his short forty-five years of life, he was able to accomplish so much.

As I write this, I am listening to the soundtrack of "The Mission". For some reason, it has occasionally reminded me of him. (Not the songs of impending doom, the serene ones.) Now it seems more appropriate than ever. The romantic, classical quality of the score just tears at your heart strings. It relays this mix of joy and sorrow, as does this time surrounding his death. He is with His Lord now, and is freed from the suffering that he endured for so many years. The tears stream down my face and yet I rejoice in the knowledge that he is finally resting at peace. Thank you for everything that you have taught me, Steve, you will be dearly missed.