Chosen
Contributed by Debra McGhan
As a child, I remember the special days when I was chosen to go to work with Papa. The youngest of three at the time, I absolutely loved it. During those days we lived in Anchorage, Alaska, and Dad owned a beauty salon on the ground floor of the Westward Hotel, later known as the Hilton Hotel, on 3rd and G Street, right across the street from Hewitt’s Drugstore on the corner of 4th and G. Before the 1964 earthquake. Before everything changed.
After losing our home in a devastating fire a week after the big shake, we lived in a constant state of moving and turmoil until finally settling back in Anchorage a few years later. Through all the ups and downs, Dad, with Mom firmly at his side, kept our growing family together and taught us resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity. His carefree spirit gradually returned as he focused on capturing the beauty and majesty of the world around him through his art.
Scott McDaniel, one of the great American artists, produced more than 3,000 original pieces of art in his career. Maybe a lot more considering all the ones he painted over or abandoned.
I loved his paintings but never felt the drive or desire to learn or master his skill. He saw something in me I didn’t recognize until years later. I was the chosen child he expected to follow his path. Which meant I attended art lessons.
By 14 I knew this was not my thing, and I wanted to opt out. Why me? Why not my other siblings? I wanted to go play with my friends.
Nope, Dad insisted. “I need you in this class.” He said it with that voice that meant there was no arguing.
I didn’t always want to, but I sat through many art lessons and slowly learned to appreciate the skill and dedication it takes to produce the beautiful paintings my dad did.
In one class, I remember struggling to paint a bowl of fruit. Ugly! The more I tried, the muddier and uglier it got. Dad, walking around the room mentoring the “real” art students in the class, stopped by my easel.
“Here,” he said, taking my brush.
He swirled it in a tiny cup of thinner, touched it in a puddle of white paint, and put a few dots here and there on my canvas. Another swirl through the thinner, a touch of red, and the painting quickly transformed under his expert hand as I watched in frustrated amazement. He made it look so easy. I did not see it until he put it there. Then suddenly the image came to life, and I couldn’t help smiling. Yep, he’s good at this, I thought in admiration.
In the end, I gave up trying. I did sell a couple of paintings but just didn’t share his intense passion. I wanted to write.
I will never forget the day he read a story I had written for a creative writing class. When he finished, he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart, your talent is painting pictures with words.”
It took decades for me to understand Dad was never training me to follow in his footsteps as an artist, he was training me to keep the history and spirit of his journey alive. To value and appreciate the story of our shared existence across decades of time and space. To really see the beauty and majesty painted by God’s hand.
On June 26, 2026, Dad would have turned 100 years old. His body never made it across this milestone, but his art has. And if I fulfill one of my life’s missions, we will create a permanent museum exhibit to preserve, protect and share his art.
This man wasn’t just a good artist; he led a journey worth following through his paintings. An inspiring tale that teaches so many critical lessons about life and the celebration of reaching incredible heights.
The O. Scott McDaniel Art Foundation will present a “Century of Memories” exhibition on June 26, 2026, at the Anchorage Museum from 6 to 9 p.m. Come share this incredible story and celebrate in our shared successes and triumphs.
This exhibition is free to the public and includes birthday cake, refreshments, a silent auction, gifts, and a visual journey through time told through the art of this remarkable American artist. Learn more at oscottmcdanielart.org.