A Winding Way to the Canvas: Brian Atkinson's Life in Art

Some artists don't arrive at their craft through a straight line. Brian Atkinson is one of them. And that winding path may be exactly what makes his work worth seeing.

Growing up, Atkinson was already the kid skipping class to disappear into the art room. But he came from a family where college wasn't part of the conversation, so when the time came, he did what everyone around him did: He went to work as a laborer. Although he didn’t stop exploring art, Atkinson considered it more of a hobby than a potential career path. 

It wasn't until his mid-20s that he walked through the doors of the Herron School of Art. He was 26. Most of his classmates were 18 or 19. He went full time, then had to stop, then worked, then went part time, then finally finished … earning his degree in art education.

Finding the Lane

Ask Atkinson how he developed his style and he doesn't hesitate. He found it early, and he's never really left it.

"I've always just been really attracted to things that have high contrast," he says. "Really dark, dark areas and really light, light areas." Add to that an eye for organic shapes — such as the skeletal reach of leafless trees, the way branches move across negative space — and bold, arresting color, and you start to understand what you're walking into when you see his work.

He does take commissions, but selectively. If it doesn't fit his vision, he turns it down. "I want to enjoy doing it," he says simply. 

The Teacher Who Stayed an Artist

Atkinson spent 30 years at Lawrence North High School — 22 as an art teacher, eight as an administrator. But he never abandoned his studio.

Early on, a mentor helped him see that teaching and making didn't have to be separate lives. That mentor, sculptor and fellow Lawrence North art educator Brad Holmes, modeled what it looked like to do both. When Atkinson eventually became department chair at Lawrence North, he carried that conviction into every hire he made.

"Show me what you're working on right now," he recalls telling candidates. "Don't show me what you did in college."

With an assist from then new hire, Nichole Cooper, he also launched a faculty art show — an annual reminder, to students and staff alike, that the people teaching art were actually making it.

But the part of teaching that mattered most to him wasn't about technique. It was about belonging.

"There are a lot of kids who don't have a place in a big high school," he says. "The art department is that place." He and Holmes used to chuckle about some of the grade cards — rows of D's and F's, and then an A in art, with a note that said “a pleasure to have in class.” Those weren't charity grades. Those were kids who showed up because someone saw them.

Atkinson says he still hears from many of them, who often express gratitude for their time in his class. 

Retirement, and Getting Back to It

With the blessing and the support of his wife, Liz, Atkinson retired in June 2025. Since then, he's been painting. A lot. That dedication has resulted in a growing collection of new pieces.

Most mornings, he walks his dogs, then heads to the studio. Sessions run five hours sometimes — time disappearing the way it only does when you're fully inside something. 

"I don't ever want it to feel like a job," he says. That's why the commissions with too many directions — combine this element, this color, this concept — don't interest him. "That feels like work to me."

\He started painting exclusively in oils during COVID, after years of moving through acrylics, chalk drawings, oil pastels, clay, and even digital fine art made with Photoshop and Illustrator. Seven years into oils, he hasn't looked back.

What to Expect June 2–11

When you walk into the Arts for Lawrence gallery this month, you'll see bold colors and strong contrast in works ranging from landscapes to florals and abstracts. 

Atkinson describes his work as something he was chasing — a feeling, a direction, a few months of inspiration gathered and put on canvas.

He's thought about what art does for people, especially now. "People need an outlet," he says. "Sometimes you need to look at something and just think, I really love that. I'd love to have that in my house."

Brian Atkinson's work is on display June 2–11 at Arts for Lawrence, 8920 Otis Ave, Indianapolis, IN 46216