|This biography from the Archives of AskART:|
|The following, submitted December 2005, is from James Wallace Shaw, Jr.|
"Mr. Froelich or 'Pops' was my Grandfather. We have several of
his works around my parents', sister's as well as my own home.
Not only was he a prolific painter, he also sculpted and casted
I can remember as a young boy my family driving out West to visit him
and Grand Mama Nell in Yarnell, Arizona. His studio was a
combination storage warehouse, studio, art gallery and antique shop all
rolled into one building. I could spend days just digging through
'stuff'. One could be surrounded by unfinished projects,
neat Indian and settler artifacts he found in the desert, to a #3
washtub full of raw turquoise and Apache tears he found while wandering
around the mountains behind his home.
One interesting thing that few know is he was one of few individuals
that actually professionally bent neon for signs back in the 40's and
50's. He supported his family as a sign painter while living
through his many adventures and all the while my grand mother ran a
truck stop style restaurant in Yarnell at the top of the steep grade
rising out of the desert on one's way to Prescott.
I will always have fond memories of my visits with Pops. I still
have an Indian bust that he and I carved together out of cottonwood on
my last visit with him in the summer of 1976. I went to
visit him as sort of a high school graduation present to
myself. Regretfully, he passed away in the early 80's to
throat cancer. His ashes were spread over his favorite prize
possession, the old mining ghost town of Stanton, Arizona. My
father rented a plane and spread the ashes himself.
Here is an excerpt out of an art index catalog he compiled himself that I have that is copyrighted 1965:
'Dedicated to John and Matilda - my parents.
Born August 24, 1907, at Troy, Indiana, of humble,
industrious and Christian folks of Austrian, German and French
extraction; an Outdoor Advertising man for thirty years; removing to
the Intermountain west after twenty years business in Texas and with a
yen down deep for the Creative Arts, I set about traveling from Montana
to Mexico and from Colorado to California; mingling on many of the
Indian reservations and a history of the old west through various
contacts with many old settlers.
This left me with vivid impressions on these subjects and
the source of composition which I hope in time to bring into further
reality. Making some seventy Indian paintings and hundreds of
sketches within that period, has taken some extreme application, for in
my favor I had only the qualities of seeing it, and the desire, and
most of all, doing it.
These vistas to spacelands and beautiful, mysterious
horizons floods ones being. With some escape from city life,
discovery of new worlds within our U.S.A., the conflict with the
elements, infinite new windows of life open before you. How
anyone can work at all amid our earthly wonders, especially how anyone
can invite the spiritual and mundane struggle life in the creative arts
demand. In humble tribute to all the art workers, we know that the
obscure and the great, throughout eons of time have awed and pleased
the humble and the mighty.
History has been generously supplied with mans
ingenuity and dignity, for like music to our ears, unquestionably, some
certain melody leaves its indelible impression, and inspires our ever
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