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Word of the Rev. Howard Finster's death on October 22 reminded me of how much we loved his sprawling outdoor gallery, Paradise Gardens. Years before, my husband and I had read about this elderly preacher from the Georgia mountains who had become the most sought-after folk artist in the nation. We had seen his message-laden paintings at a gallery in Washington, d.c., and heard tales of the hometown acres he was turning into an outdoor showplace. When we planned our 1990 summer vacation, we included a swing through northeastern Georgia so we could see Paradise Gardens firsthand.

Seeing may be believing, but it isn't necessarily comprehending. Much of Paradise Gardens, like Finster himself, was exuberantly beyond explanation. His works could be set along a spectrum, with the relatively normal end held down by direct "Repent and be saved" placards little different from those nailed to roadside tree trunks all over the South. In the middle would come the great majority of his works, which bring the gospel message with the special life and genius that set Finster apart. One of my favorites I photographed that day at the Gardens: an oil-drum lid, painted sky blue, then inscribed in red and indigo, "Dying daily is a greator sacrifice than dying dead." (Finster's eccentric spelling and grammar are so ingrained in his work that to correct them would be like toning down his vivid colors.)

The youngest of 13 children, Finster began receiving messages and visions at age 3. He dropped out of school after sixth grade, and at 13 heard a call to preach the gospel. He preached in churches and revival tents all over the region for decades, supporting a growing family by building furniture, repairing bicycles, and farming.

Along the way he began to do some painting, and in 1970, at age 53, he heard a call to "build a paradise and decorate it with the Bible." Paradise Gardens began to emerge on a few wasteland acres near his home. "I built this park of broken pieces to try to mend a broken world," read one sign.

Finster was almost 60 when this call to be an artist was given extra urgency. He was repairing a bicycle and some white paint was smeared on his thumb. The smudge developed a face and spoke to him: "Paint sacred art!"

Finster protested that he was incapable, but the face demanded, "How do you know?"

"It just dawned on me," Finster said. "How did I know?"

It was then that Finster began to paint relentlessly, setting forth the gospel message in every form that his exceptionally fertile imagination could devise. Most of his paintings were made on scrap wood and cutout panels, depicting angels, heavenly scenes, animals, and, most often, portraits—faces with large, luminous eyes fringed with long lashes like the rays of the sun. Images were often subservient to words, however, and most paintings are crowded front and back with Scriptures and admonitions. Painted with thick black outlines and primary colors, the works vibrate with energy.

The clarity and conviction of Finster's images made him popular with art collectors, gallery owners, and some rock bands (including Talking Heads and R.E.M.) whose everyday worlds were no doubt more ambivalent and anxious than these confident scenes. Locals were well familiar with Finster's message but didn't appreciate the art. Sophisticated admirers appreciated the art but could be wholly oblivious to the message.

In 1996 I returned to Paradise Gardens to interview Finster. It was the first time I'd met him, though we had initially corresponded almost ten years before. On the day of our interview, he came into the Paradise Gardens gallery shop wearing a Sunday suit of shiny navy polyester with the cuffs rolled up, and unbuttoned shirt sleeves bunched in his jacket. Then almost 80, he was weakened by arthritis and diabetes, yet still so compelled to produce that he painted in bed with his arms propped up.

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December 3 2001, Vol. 45, No. 15