Spend some time with the paintings of John W. Grow, and you’ll quickly see they’re more than what they appear to be. At first glance, his work seems almost like a photograph—faces so delicate, details so exact you might think you’re looking at an actual photo. But stay a little longer, and you’ll notice symbols tucked into the corners, a hint of humor in the composition, or a sense of mystery that makes you wonder what’s really happening.
Grow has been painting in Durango since the late 1970s, after leaving Chicago’s advertising world for Colorado’s wide-open skies. A graduate of Northwestern University, he came west to teach and ended up discovering that the region’s history, railroads, landscapes, and small-town life gave him endless inspiration.
Critics often describe his paintings as “metaphor-laden” and “whimsical yet profound.” He’s the kind of artist who can take something ordinary—a portrait, a stream, a street scene—and, with a few symbolic twists, turn it into something larger: part story, part question, part daydream.
One of his most memorable works is Down the Drain, a luminous oil portrait of a red-haired woman. The painting took weeks to finish and was valued in the thousands. Yet, in a bold move, Grow gave it away—literally. He placed it under a sign that read “Free to a Good Home” during a reception celebrating the 10th anniversary of Arts Perspective magazine at the Community Concert Hall at Fort Lewis College: no announcement, no fuss—just a gift. For Grow, the act was partly a commentary on how art is valued, partly a form of liberation. As he later said, “It was the most liberating experience of my life.”
Over the years, Grow has painted everything from allegorical series filled with dreamlike imagery to quiet, intimate views of Colorado creeks. Along the way, he’s won multiple Best of Show Awards and the admiration of those who love both his craft and his curiosity.
In the end, that’s what makes Grow’s work so memorable: impeccable skill paired with a playful spirit. His canvases may look like reality, but they always hold something more—a wink, a question, an invitation to look closer.
“John W. Grow paints reality with a wink—technical precision that invites you to lean in and find the secret in the scene.” —Denise Leslie, Arts Perspective magazine
