On this day of Thanksgiving, just on the periphery of BYU Provo, a group of loved ones encircles a table. They sit near a brightly hued stained-glass window that provides a direct view of the historic LDS temple just a couple blocks away. But within these walls, this gathering at this table is embracing one of their own. A rainbow hangs over the child’s head. Rich amber, indigo, and cerulean hues permeate through their tablecloth. In this room, this child is “Encircled” by love. And this hypothetical child is safe here, on the walls of the Encircle home one of artist J. Kirk Richard’s first iconic, affirming paintings still calls home seven years later.
His work is a salve to so many in this space. It hearkens, it heals, it hangs on the walls of the real families who encircle. It is oft gifted to new families first embarking on their journey through prints and greeting cards. J. Kirk Richards’ breath-taking creations have also hung in museums and universities worldwide as well as at LDS church headquarters. His “Encircled” piece in Provo is especially appreciated by his nephew, who has spent much time at the house that Encircle founder Stephenie Larsen first envisioned being a home away from home for LGBTQ+ kids who needed it, complete with warm, fresh-baked cookies greeting those who gather for friendship circles and after school hangouts. Seeing his uncle’s painting has allowed Kirk’s nephew to feel safe in talking to him over the years. The Encircle team has since commissioned Kirk to paint several pieces that hang in the various homes, one of the several LGBTQ+ mental health-focused nonprofits to which he often donates his unique gifts. In his ever-broadening ally fanbase, Kirk says one of his favorite byproducts is encountering bishops and seminary teachers who share they’ve displayed his images in their offices and classrooms as a sign they’re safe.
Of his allyship, Kirk claims he’s not ten steps in, rather, “I’m just doing things from my corner of the world. I get sheepish about allyship – how people should or shouldn’t be an ally. Maybe I don’t meet a lot of people’s criteria, but one thing that helped me not worry so much was when Troy Williams from Equality Utah told me at a dinner, ‘Just do your thing, don’t worry about doing it perfectly. Of course, we want to learn as we go, but Rome is burning, and we need to work together and not fight each other.’ So that’s what I do.”
As the holiday season heightens, Kirk is currently completing his submissions to the annual creche exhibit in Palo Alto, CA, as well as several private commissions for holiday gifts. A 2000 graduate of BYU Provo, Kirk and his wife Amy (a CSW/therapist) have raised their four kids, Maegan—22, Bryan—20 (married to Aubree), Kate—17, and Jack—14 in Utah valley. They now call Woodland Hills, Utah home. Kirk’s always been a working artist, though admits in the beginning, they lived quite frugally. When he reflects on what or who got him started painting images for LGBTQ+ people, he mentions several former mission companions and childhood friends who later came out as gay. One in particular stands out as having been “extra compassionate, the kind of mission companion who agreed to let us go home on one particular day I was just feeling completely tapped out, rather than making me feel bad about it.” Several years later, once Facebook became a thing, Kirk reconnected with this former companion and saw he had since married a man and was living happily in Canada. Then he found others.
“Watching all these stories of people I loved, it became clear to me that pressuring people into a mixed orientation marriage was not something I thought we should be doing as a community. Of course, if people are choosing that and it appears to be working for them, I wouldn’t want to discourage that, but I didn’t want to pressure or encourage it, based on watching the lives of my friends and mission companions,” says the artist.
Fast forward to 2008; Kirk was serving in a Utah bishopric during Prop 8. Word came down through the channels that leadership needed to be prepared to start mobilizing ward members to call Californians to encourage them to vote against same-sex marriage. Kirk said this was a moment when he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. He felt very uncomfortable at the idea of asking ward members to call California and ask them to vote on “this thing I potentially don’t agree with.” He tried to watch the church-provided videos online to find a good reason for the policy, but said he’d come away with a sick feeling. Kirk was relieved when his ward ultimately didn’t end up being asked to make the calls. Shortly after, Kirk participated in a solo art show where all the paintings were of different shapes. He included one called “Jesus Said Love Everyone,” in which Jesus wore a multi-colored robe and embraced the small figures around him. “This was one of my first paintings that was explicit about not continuing to exclude and marginalize LGBTQ+ people.”
When he steps into his studio to create a new rainbow-hued commission, Kirk often channels his formative years as one of eight kids growing up in a big LDS family around a dinner table in the tree streets of Provo where the early morning kickstart to the day was musical instrument practice and scripture study. “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve had to really examine what in my faith practice and belief is from God and what isn’t. A lot of my artwork is meditating on that.” Kirk says he comes back again and again to “themes of healing and teaching and community and love and mercy and grace.”
Recently, as part of his daily painting series with artist Melissa Tshikamba in which the two create smaller masterpieces that are auctioned via Instagram, Kirk titled one piece, “By their Fruits, ye shall know them.” He ruminates that Jesus offered so many ways to interpret what these fruits might be. “There are many ways people are using religion to control others… I’m 47-years-old and I may interpret things differently now than I did in my early years.” He strongly feels, “The teachings of Jesus transcend easy interpretations and are worth wrestling within the complexities of life. These are the things I think about while painting. If what I’m painting strikes a chord of emotional and personal significance, then the art feels true and become greater. If it’s imbued with emotion and meaning and truth, it’s a much stronger piece for me.”
His mantra being the golden rule, “something Jesus taught and most major religions have in some form,” Kirk goes on to surmise, “We can’t really treat others like ourselves unless we can imagine being in their shoes. We have to try to empathize with their position and imagine what it would be like to be them. I don’t think we can ask people to forego a committed, passionate relationship with someone they’re attracted to in any ways we’re not willing to forgo ourselves. That’s kind of become the foundation of my thoughts about life and relationships.”
