Some might know Gretchen Reynolds as Paul Reynolds’ wife. She and Paul were definitely a dynamic duo and she was every bit a shooting star, just in more unconventional ways.

I had the chance to meet Gretchen around 2012 when Kristina Lenzi introduced us. They had the idea of renting a studio at the Rockwood Artist Studios in Salt Lake City and using the space to offer workshops. Gretchen was interested in exploring a version of Seattle’s 12 Minutes Max, and Paul said he wanted to bring this to the downtown library, which he did—it is now part of the regular programming at the downtown branch and managed by Jason Raab.

At Rockwood Studios, we had a tiny room, less than 1,000 square feet, and Gretchen had the idea of painting the back wall black. She thought a black wall would help the audience to focus. She was right! Kristina suggested the name ‘DUNCE’ and we were off to the races.

In the course of about two years, we hosted a couple dozen events. They were wide-ranging in terms of discipline: painting workshops, performance workshops, contemporary dance, contemporary music, film—really multidisciplinary stuff. My only contribution was to add some shelves to the wall to display various exhibition catalogs, to interject some outside voices I’d encountered abroad. Augmenting these activities, Gretchen made it clear that she wanted to be the Candy Girl. She wanted to do some baking and have a table on the side and put cookies into paper bags and offer snacks during intermission. You can imagine her excitement when she stumbled upon a popcorn maker at the Centerville DI (Deseret Industries).

Gretchen Reynolds working with Paul Davis at the DUNCE Academy in Salt Lake City.

What I learned from this collaboration was that Gretchen was incredibly well-connected. It seemed that she only had artist-friends and these included the novice and the professional, the young and the young at heart. Moreover, Gretchen was engaged in lively discussions with every one of these people. She would bring them in and convince them to do a demo or perform, or just pay a visit. She brought in people such as Paul Davis from Torre and the U’s John Erickson, Elizabeth and Jimmy Miklavcic of Another Language, and Hal Cannon from the Three Hat Trio, among many others. The conclusion was that Gretchen was community oriented before “community” was a buzzword.

I always insisted that my daughters accompany me to DUNCE. It was a great place for them to explore while staying safe. One time a dancer came and performed in his birthday suit. I had proudly seated my young daughter in the front row. I suspect she didn’t know the difference between boys and girls since she didn’t look up even once from her lap during the performance.

One day, after following a trip to Seattle, Gretchen approached me and was particularly animated. She’d come across a new term which was being whispered around the Seattle art scene. She thought it encapsulated exactly what we were doing at Dunce. It also confirmed our avant-garde spirit. It was “Micro-gallery.” DUNCE was a microgallery! Gretchen was right again and I marveled at how this new word galvanized her.

Another favorite word of Gretchen’s was “Generosity.” This came into focus in a work Gretchen created called ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ This was a multi-disciplinary creation that involved herself and Paul, both flanking a plinth, a marionette of Jack, and a laptop which showed Paul chasing some geese in a park. Gretchen had constructed her own marionette from wood and clothed it with fabric from the DI. These figures were frugal yet embraced the proverb, “Invention is the mother of Necessity.” She conjured this scene of Jack climbing up a beanstalk and had my other daughter Hannah move the strings while Paul and Gretchen read a text. It was creativity—and absurdity—at its finest.

Gretchen Reynolds discusses on of her puppet performances.

Another piece of hers was performed at the Pacific Union Depot Station. In the corner of the room, several marionettes were suspended over what appeared to be a large black box. The dark box served as a background against the three marionettes, who clattered away to what might have been Vaudeville music. Slowly, viewers became aware that this box was actually rotating on dollies and within a few minutes we saw that the box was in fact the backside of an upright piano. As the piano rotated, three men sitting on the piano bench came into view. One of them was Paul and they were all completely naked. Hilarity ensued and the audience doubled over in laughter. I believe the marionette strings were attached to the piano keys, thus revealing the ghost in the machine. It was as inventive a contraption as I’d ever seen; entirely original and most of all, ingenious. The system continued to rotate, slowly, until the piano returned to its original place, the men disappeared and the spectacle drew to a close. Only Gretchen could have imagined such madness and pulled it off with such aplomb!

At some point, Gretchen invited me over to her house in the Avenues for lunch, which gave me a new perspective into her sensibilities. She and Paul had created a true artist home. It’s not enough to say it was like an art gallery—it was a living art work. Filled with old antiques, contemporary paintings, sculptures, a massive easel holding an incomplete painting, and bric-a-brac everywhere. To say the space was cluttered was not quite accurate. Every object was carefully chosen, “curated” as we say today, and arranged into a composition allowing it to expand. Additionally, I had the feeling that nothing there was fixed, it was all slowly circulating, generating new temporary still lifes.

There was not a square inch that hadn’t been thought about for compositional qualities, for its color values, and then large swaths of fabrics displayed as background, on pillows, on the wall. Amidst this cornucopia, a large but lean dog (Liam) would casually meander through the room, as if a small black-and-white billboard had suddenly come to life and decided to snake through the space.

I said something about this being exactly the kind of house that two artists might create and Gretchen mentioned that it could get a little out of hand. She recalled a jar of JIF peanut butter that had occupied her and Paul for several years. I immediately thought of the blue-red-green stripes of that brand. Every day, she entered the kitchen she’d have to turn the jar around to display the stripes, and every day after that, Paul would turn it back around. Like the rotating piano, perhaps?

Gretchen Reynolds working on portraits at the DUNCE Academy.

During this time, Gretchen and I met for lunch several times, notably at a new Jewish deli that had opened near the synagogue. During those meals, we’d discuss Utah art and Gretchen was an apologist. Even at ten years, I still felt like an outsider and was forming my judgment. I objected to her enthusiasm: it felt like she was trying to brainwash me. Our conversations often led to arguments and impasses, but only because we both knew what was at stake.

At some point, DUNCE had run its course and 12MM moved to the Library. I went several times and saw her there, beaming as she sat at the entrance, welcoming visitors, chatting with friends and selling cookies.

I encourage you to attend 12MM at the library in memory of Gretchen Reynolds.

Gretchen Reynolds was a multidisciplinary artist accomplished in painting, drawing, puppetry and performance art. She was born on February 4, 1960 in Minneapolis Minnesota. She lived in the Pacific Northwest where she met and married Paul Reynolds in 1988. She moved to Salt Lake City, Utah in 1991 with Paul and daughter Zoey. She completed an MFA in Art at the University of Utah and taught in the Art Department at Weber State University. Her work was shown in Utah and NYC. She passed away at her home in Centerville, Utah on April 16, 2025.

Alexandra Karl

Alexandra Karl was educated in Ottawa (BFA), Munich (MA) and Cambridge (Ph.D), where she wrote a dissertation on the role of Darwinism in 19th Century German painting. She has been reviewing the Visual Arts in Utah since 2012 and is a proud member of AICA. She was a lecturer in the Humanities Department at Utah Valley University from 2017-2019. Links to her essays can be found at www.alexandra-karl.com.