midwest memory

"From sunny Palm Springs, Terry Hastings revisits the crisp, clear light of his childhood in Minnesota—turning memory into art, and quiet questions into visual form. His work plays with the push and pull between warmth and critique, nostalgia and clarity.

Using digital tools, he reimagines old family photos, small-town streets, and Midwest skies. It’s personal and modern at the same time—intimate scenes made fresh through technology.

Terry’s influences are a mix of big moods and quiet moments: the emotion of Rothko, the loneliness of Hopper, the depth of Wyeth. Add in the storytelling of Garrison Keillor and the Americana flair of Meredith Willson, then filter it all through a digital lens. The result? Art that’s beautiful, a bit wry, that both comforts and confronts."

EDITOR: Terry here. I just wanted to give a little explanation for what you are about to view and read. I got tired of AI writing about "stillness" and "breath" and "presence in my work. So, I put my degree in theatre to good use and created this production of "What the Janitor Saw".

Midwest Memory – Series Introduction

A fictional Midwestern art museum where every label is a dramatic monologue from eccentric locals, and even the janitor thinks he’s curating culture. Think "Parks and Rec" set in Lake Woebegone doing a production of "Spoon River Anthology".

Imagine: a modest town in the upper Midwest, equal parts sentiment and skepticism, where the Dairy Queen doubles as a cultural hub and the museum was once a hardware store with good lighting. The Belle Plaine Museum of Modern Art now houses a bold collection of American painting prints, actually most of the art are posters of famous work that Harold brought home from his trips to Chicago. But today a new show has opened of actual art, showing the digital creations of hometown favorite Terry Hastings and his series “Midwest Memory.” He may have moved away to California a long time ago, but that doesn't stop everyone from telling an embarassing story about him.

Here, the landscapes are minimal, but the opinions maximal. Every creation draws commentary, from the janitor on break to the caddy between tee times, from the gift shop clerk to the regional Tupperware rep delivering modular gossip. It’s a town that may not have a gallery café, but rest assured, someone will pour you a half lemonade, half unsolicited critique.

This is modern art, filtered through nostalgia, layered storytelling, and an ensemble of characters who cannot and will not look at a stripe of color without seeing family history, zoning disputes, or that hot dish made with tuna fish and hot dogs. Welcome to Midwest Memory. Where the art hangs still, and the people run wild.