In My Own Words

The unsigned sketch of me above was drawn by a young man who came into a New York gallery where I worked during Covid, in 2022. He wrote a heartbreaking story of personal loss in the exhibition guestbook, drew this portrait of me sitting behind the front desk, and walked away, anonymously.

A little about me…

I’m from a town so small between Enoch and Cedar City, Utah that it didn’t have a name. We were sheep farmers.

Ozark Airlines brought me to New York, where I lived with Ultra Violet (Andy Warhol’s muse), studied English Literature at NYU at night, and worked in publishing during the day.

My goal was to be a writer. Everything I do is connected to publishing in some way, still.

I fell in love with a beautiful woman and a beautiful city. That was almost 40 years ago.

My driver’s license expired in 1986.

I happened into ghostwriting because writer-friends needed help, and I was an editor. One gig led to another—from “Can you help write a chapter?” to “Oh no, I’ve spent my book advance and the full manuscript is due in six months!” Every time I say that I don’t do ghostwriting anymore, I find myself working with someone new to collaborate with them and help write their book. I feel like a midwife of storytelling.

I have a strange and handy skill: If I hang out with you for a while, I can write just like you talk—your cadence, style, vocabulary, tone, your voice.

I’m known somewhat for creative projects connected to Mormonism, but I didn’t write anything overtly religious until I was in my late 30s. The reason I’ve been involved so deeply with the arts of my culture (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) is that I was dissatisfied with what wasn’t being done elsewhere, and I wanted my LDS artist-friends to have a champion.

A legacy I’m leaving is a large art collection. The Glen and Marcia Nelson Collection of Mormon Art started out after friends would crash my our couch and give us art to thank us. It grew to include over 150 objects (paintings, drawings, photography, sculpture, printmaking, folk art, and ephemera), which was eventually acquired by the Church History Museum in Salt Lake City, Utah.

In my career, I love to sit in the playgrounds of different creative fields. I’ve been a professional dancer, semi-professional choral singer, and a poet, librettist, dramatist, author, scholar, essayist, exhibition curator, bookbinder, editor, publisher, art collector, lecturer, and arts administration executive—often all at once.

I never saw the benefit of going deep into a professional field as an expert. All of the jobs I’ve ever had came to me because I was a generalist, not a specialist.

The greatest moments in my creative life were the discoveries of artists of distinction most others had missed. There’s nothing better than righting the wrong of unwarranted obscurity and reintroducing greatness to the public.

From time to time, I’ve met individuals who have recognized my work and given me opportunities to amplify it. They haven’t changed the direction of my life, but they have changed its pace. As a result, I believe in doing your best work whenever you are given any opportunity, because you never know who’s watching.

My life’s purpose is not about producing things, as pleasant as that’s been. I want to live an artful life and surround myself with people, things, and experiences I love and that bring continuous surprise, beauty, and insight.

There are many things I’m not good at, but I’m quite good at being a friend. In the arts, that translates into being an effective, creative partner. Maybe that’s what my business card should say: Glen Nelson, arty friend and collaborator.