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Sterling Rathsack is giving a tour of his sprawling workspace in Superior, a multi-room art playhouse of sorts where the man paints, sculpts, and, until recently, even patiently tended to a massive bonsai tree collection. It’s been his sanctuary for twenty years.
“This is just sort of the accidental repository,” he says. “Most of the artwork on the walls is mine, but it’s not terribly important stuff.”
The funny thing about Rathsack is he’s so humble, so low-key, he doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s dismissing a huge swath of his life’s work with a wave of his hand.
A well-known artist over the last few decades, Sterling Rathsack has become an artist of renown. Peter Spooner, curator of the Tweed Museum of Art, calls him “one of the region's most respected painters,” and Rathsack’s public art projects in places like Gooseberry Falls, on the new Health and Wellness building on the UWS campus, and his bronze tribute to the late Jack Briggs on the Fond Du Lac Tribal and Community College campus (where he now also teaches art) have brought him a lot of attention in recent years.

It’s not just the work, though – Rathsack is part of a local community of creative people who are in tune with and supportive of each other, both as artists and as humans. “For me, it feels good,” he says. “I have friends who I’ve known since I’ve been here, people I can be available for when they need help as they’re aging – that’s the stuff that makes life really valuable, that interplay of people. And, for me, to have a bigger resume…” he trails off, waving his hand dismissively but without any trace of bitterness.
Sterling Rathsack really is content. It’s not just an acceptance of his lot. The man who lived for over thirty years before he even had the thought to become an artist full-time has somehow made it all work, and it’s admirable. And, at 61, he’s got no reason to stop. “I remember when I was doing the Gooseberry falls project, I was up there installing it, and an old guy in his 80’s, all hunched over but real tall, came up behind me while I was working, and he says ‘Are you having fun?’ and I said ‘Yeah,’ and he says ‘My wife and I have done this for sixty years!’” Rathsack grins. “They were public arts people from Indiana. He says ‘We never made any money ‘til we were in our 50’s!’ and they were sculptors!” “That was a moment — one of those moments. These people had done it all their lives, and they stood over my shoulder and encouraged me all afternoon.”
This article appears in its entirety in the May 2008 issue of Duluth~Superior Magazine.
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