Wheaton Sun, 2007
Daily Herald Dupage County, 2005
Chicago Tribune, 1999
Wheaton Sun, 1999
     
 

Read the Chicago Tribune and Wheaton Articles from 1999 below:

Richard Cronborg earns a living operating heavy machinery at excavation sites, but his most meaningful work, he said, flows from a basement corner near his washer and dryer, where he paints and dreams.

The 49-year-old Wheaton resident said he has found true joy--and a little profit--since taking a college class four years ago. He delights in defying stereotypes and dons a French beret before heading to work for a West Chicago construction company. His wife and daughter thought he was a bit nuts at first. Well, they still do. But they appreciate his hobby and its growth into a fledgling business. His work will be displayed next at the Chicago gallery Dix Art Mix.

When Cronborg paints, "He's in jogging pants and boots, and he listens to music blasting, usually classical or jazz," said his daughter, Catherine, 16, who also aspires to be an artist.

"I think he's ahead of his time," she said of his work, which mostly features the human form. "The generation that will likely buy his stuff is my generation. There are less conservative people in my generation."

Cronborg, whose brown leather boots are well-worn and well- traveled from construction jobs, says he is obsessed with his art. Many of his pictures are of women and bar scenes, with a few self- portraits mixed in. About 90 of his "figurative urban landscapes" will be for sale at Dix, 2068 N. Leavitt St., from June 11 through July 15.

"Boom. It was, like, addictive," Cronborg said in describing his first formal art class at the College of DuPage in Glen Ellyn.

"I dream about art. I like themes. I like the human condition," he said. "I enjoy psychological art, doing a painting and moving people to think about their realities and relationships."

Cronborg grew up on Chicago's South Side. He graduated from Southern Illinois University with a sociology-psychology degree in 1971 and entered the construction field soon after to earn money to pursue a master's degree. Twenty-eight years passed, and he is still operating cranes and earth-movers. He drove a 30-ton diesel-locomotive mining machine in the Deep Tunnel, the massive Chicago project intended to control pollution and retain flood water. "I started buying clothes, meeting girls," said Cronborg, who enjoys a smoke and a Scotch after work. "I never realized my dream."

He described himself as philosophical, but said that to fit in at work, he grunts out references to women, liquor and crummy job conditions. Sam Conte, supervisor with A.A. Conte & Son, described Cronborg as a likable fellow who runs a steel-wheel clay compressor for him. "He's into society. He likes people," Conte said. "I'm not into art work myself, so I tell him, `If it was up to me, you'd starve to death.' "

Cronborg paints the most on rainy days when construction work ceases. He can churn out a work in 30 minutes or labor over a piece for 60 hours. He promotes his work through e-mail and has sold some of his paintings over the Internet. Prices range from $250 to $800. His work has been displayed in Chicago's eclectic Gold Star Bar, 1755 W. Division St.

"He's something of a character," said Mary Ann Reid, co-owner of the bar. "Rich is so passionate and intense. He's focused about his work. He is never lukewarm." Cronborg said he hopes to retire from the construction trade in five years, continue painting and teach art. His newfound passion has changed his life, he said.   The worst part about it?  "There's no money in art."

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Wheaton Sun  May 1999

Renaissance Man: 
Bulldozer driver rekindles his passion for art




An artistic urge and a bulldozer operators license are a lethal combination.

Welcome to the art world of Richard Cronborg, a name worth remembering.

Cronborg took a 30-something year hiatus from a passion for drawing to provide for his family. Armed with a sociology degree and minor in psychology, Cronborg was unable to find work in his chosen specialty. So he took what he could-jobs in the construction and excavation business that turned into a career.

Then, four years ago on a whim and with an invitation to take a free class at the College of DuPage where his wife works, Cronborg picked up the brushes again, and found an outlet. 

The smoke from Cronborg's cigarette blends into his beard, and his round face beams with unadulterated joy. It was as though you'd just told him he'd won the lottery. It is not, however, the face one expects of a renaissance man, which is exactly what Cronborg is.

As a heavy-equipment operator, Cronborg has done deep tunnel work, been on high rises and driven bulldozers. He has put food on the table by working a job that mutes his creative urges like a pillow over an airhorn.

"It was hard to put my creative life aside for a job that wasn't me," he said. His job does allow him one thing: days off to paint. When it's too cold for heavy outdoor work, Cronborg gets laid off. Now that free time goes into hours of work in his art studio, which is in the basement, wedged between the washer and dryer and the stairs. When it rains, the two or three days off go into promoting his pieces.

As a painter, his works are shown throughout the Wicker Park area of Chicago in galleries and bars-a current show at the Gold Star Bar on Division Street boast 50 of his paintings on its walls. Walls of bars seem to fit the tone of much of Cronborg's work, forged from a subculture rich in subject matter, where barflies, addicts and fairy godmothers collide in bright, bold, stoplight colors. Richard was there when these people got their signals crossed, and was able to capture the moment either in a photograph or his imagination. The results are rarely beleaguered with sunshine.

"I don't think people are going to buy my art so it goes with somebody's sofa", Cronborg said. Cronborg does sell to a wide range of characters, from those who frequent the scenes he paints to construction buddies to wealthy patrons. Part of that is his talent as an artist. A good deal of it is due to another feature of Wheaton's Renaissance man-his ability to shamelessly self-promote.

"I'd show in the men's room at Sears," Cronborg said. "Eighty percent of the art world is business, and knowing how to market yourself. I'm a pretty good schmoozer. What I lack in creativity I make up for in schmoozing."

Whatever schmoozing is going on at least appears sincere. Cronborg's straightforward approach, seasoned with humor and good-heartedness, certainly can't hurt someone trying to break into the art world. "People are really buying the artist if they're buying the art, he said. "If a customer gets a feeling as to what the artist is about, it makes it easier to buy the art".

What this artist is also about is a past life as a furniture maker who also has several marathons to his credit, through they're hiding behind a rotund belly, Cronborg studied design under R. Buckminster Fuller, and he makes a mean cup of java, , Really mean..."This coffee will rot your insides out," he said, pouring. But Cronborg is willing to admit he has a long way to go with his art. After all, the chasm between time spent on the job site and time spent with oils is still very wide. But potential has his foot in the door.

"The psychology is already there, (in his art)," Cronborg said, "I think I've had an interesting life, and life experiences make the art. I need to develop a little better knowledge of materials, the historical perspective, and the technical use of various tools. Nobody ever learns it all. But it's a self fulfilling prophecy. If you really want something, it will come true."

Cronborg's goal is to retire in four years, and use his art to subsidize his pension. "I tell the guys I work with "I'm a serious artist, and I shouldn't be out with you losers." "If you've got to be in a mundane job, you might as well put some spice into your life." While Cronborg's work isn't flying off the walls, it is selling steadily, and his work has been recognized by Chicago artist Ed Paschke, who called him at home to talk shop. For all the highs, there have been frustrations as Cronborg learns more and more about how the art business works.

"The thing that depresses me is I bombard galleries with letters and images, and it's frustrating because I know my work's a lot better than what's showing," he said. "But that fires me up more. Because if Chicago won't receive me, Manhattan will."

So Cronborg posts pictures of his work on the Internet, and mails photographs to galleries looking for new artists. Although he pays attention to the rules, he doesn't always like them. "I'm the kind of type who bulldozes through the door, but it doesn't work that way. I have to deal within the framework. But the qualities I have are probably most helpful. I fear nothing. On the jobsite if I want something, I just scream until I get it."

One question that Cronborg would like to have answered soon is whether the art world is ready for him..He knows he's ready for them.

"The art world sometimes needs a kick in the----. A lot of artists fail because they don't have the panache to get it out there. I'm not saying my art is the greatest in the world, but it's mine, and since I've started pushing it out there I've been doing pretty well. "Art's a business like any other," he continued. "It has to be. You need that legitimization, I've always been driven by that. It's kind of intense, my way of living. But it's a constructive way. If I chose the destructive way, I could drive myself to death."