Blog

At the Matzke Fine Art Gallery and Sculpture park.
A glass exhibition that will provide the public with an opportunity to purchase and view a diverse selection of art glass by seventeen glass artist working in a variety of techniques (lampworked, cast, hot sculpted, molten, etched, cut, assembled and ground).

Participating Glass artists: Hiroshi Yamano, Edward Schmid, Veruska Vagan, Doug Randall, Brian Berman, Els Vanden Ende, Delores Taylor, Tom Small, Annette Tamm, David Kerr, Shirley Erickson, Lin McJunkin, Charles Bigger, Pike Powers, Paul Larned, Merrilee Moore and Chuck Lopez.     Mixed Media: Barbara De Pirro.  Painters: Richard Nash, Jillian Mattison, Genie Rognier, Anne Schreivogl, Betty Frost, Emily Wood, Donna Watson, Jerry Finn, Liana Bennett, Fred Pilkington, Susan Cohen Thompson and Karla Matzke.  Ceramic artist: Ruth Westra.  New Sculptures in the Park: Debbi Rhodes, Kirk McLean, Tracy Powell and Jan Hoy.

Matzke Fine Art Gallery and Sculpture Park
2345 Blanche Way, Camano Island, Wa 98282
OPEN WEEKENDS: 10:00 to 5:00
weekdays by appointment: 360-387-2759

I like little paintings.  I also like ice cream... not necessarily in little dishes.

My art has no trans-fat, cholesterol, or mono-sodium glutamate.  Come to think of it, there may be some artificial coloring.  You can have as many as you want... even if you are on a diet.

I’ve never done any animal testing with my art.  Our cat, Thumper, isn’t much for tests.  Actually, Thumper doesn’t even go for testing a new cat food.

I don't think that my art contributes to global warming.    

I’ve never heard of my art causing an upset stomach, however, to be perfectly honest about it, I’ve never actually asked anyone either.

My art is low maintenance.  You never need to water it, and I’ve yet to see aphids on any of them.

My art doesn’t require professional dry cleaning.

I have heard some folks say they didn’t like it... however, they didn’t like me either... especially after I heard the first part of this sentence.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the time, many years ago, that our dog chewed an original oil painting that was one of my prized possessions.  Timmy, actually made it to a ripe old age.  While he did have good taste in art, I didn’t appreciate the way he tasted it.  

I don’t know... it just seemed right to share some little thoughts.  Heck, what do I  know... it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve arrived at the ferry dock to find that it had already sailed. 

If you decide to get a cow for a pet,there are a few important things to remember.  While games with your pet are fun, forget about a friendly game of "fetch".  Cows do NOT fetch!  You throw a stick... and you want it back... you go get it yourself!  OK? That's it... Thank you.  

Have you ever heard of a "lapcow"?  Pet cows do not take lightly to sitting in their owners laps.  (no pun intended... seriously)  For this, one can only be grateful, especially as they age.   Cows do not get excited when you talk about going for a ride in the car... even with the windows down.

Cows do not take to litter boxes!  Don't go there.  Never have... never will!

Yes, some cows do like to walk with their masters, however, it is strongly advised to carry a large bag with you on those walks around the block,  if you want to stay on speaking terms with your neighbors.  

Cows seem to like a leash.  I think it's a bonding thing.

Thankfully, cows do not like to sleep on the bed with you.  Yes, you can sleep in the hay with them, however, they do not sleep on the bed with you... remember that.  Perhaps this is a good thing... even if you don't have a water bed, the horns may cause you to need to mend torn sheets on a frequent basis.  

One good thing about having a cow for a pet is that you NEVER have to worry about being wakened  in the middle of the night because of a hair ball!  

I'm not sure how good of a protector a cow would be... cows are gentle creatures.  Yes, they may "moo" if a stranger comes... however, they may also "moo" if they have just eaten some hay.   You might want to remember this if you plan to put a sign in your yard that reads "beware of cow" .  Yes, "beware of bull" is another issue, however, that is NOT a topic of this blog entry.  NO SIR!

 Stanwood Camano Arts Guild will host the 2010 Spring Art Show on the first weekend of June.  The Friday evening Patron's Party is a great event for meeting old friends and making new ones while viewing our members latest creations. 

The Floyd Norgaard Cultural Center, a historical landmark in Stanwood,  is a wonderful venue for art shows.

I am sooo excited!  I have a new gig!  NO I'M NOT GOING TO BE A GREETER AT WALMART! ... not that there is anything wrong with that.  Starting April 15th, 2010, I will be the Site Manager for "Art in Public Places" at the Coastal Bank in Stanwood, WA where we are honored to be having the following artists from the Stanwood Camano Arts Guild showing their work:

Debbie Beykovsky

Sylvia Domoto

Joyce Dunn

Dick Meske

Patty Paddock

Joan Penwell

yes, if you look carefully, you just might find one of my little paintings there also.  

If you are in the area, be certain to stop and enjoy the exhibits.

Coastal Bank
9810 SR 532
Stanwood, WA 98191
360.629.2258

What's it like to be an artist on Camano Island?  I'll tell you in just one word:  Magical

I think there are more artists per square mile here on Camano Island than anywhere in the known universe.  I understand there is this census thingee coming up, and the good folks who do the counting found it necessary to make a whole 'nother form just for Camano Island... what's your medium?  ... acrylic?  ... watercolour? ... oil? ... pastel? ... syrup?

What is it that draws artists to Camano Island?  

There's something magical about this place, and I'm hot on the tracks to find out just what it is.  While many folks think it is the air, or the water,  I'm here to let you in on a secret... it's the scent of blueberry pancakes AND the gauss strength of the magnetic field that was inherent in the formation of the island.

Let me tell you... it's magical, and it's... well...  "magical"... all in one swoop...you know, sort of like the swoop you get when picking up a good dollop of Titanium white to mix with your Payne's grey.  You know... magical.

What's it like?  Well, as you waddle out of the Elger Bay Cafe, after woofing down a short stack of blueberry pancakes, you've got to be careful when you pull out of that precious parking space... you could get whooped up along the side by another artist in dire need of some blueberry pancakes or camaraderie with a fellow artist in search of a good cup of coffee... you can forget all notions of gourmet coffee Americano, or half-caf, non-fat, low foam latte... it's coffee.   If you want gourmet, it's the blueberries that are gourmet.  After all of the fuss over farm raised salmon versus wild salmon, it was only natural that blueberries were next to be debated.  I'm here to tell you that up here folks wouldn't put up with second rate berries, so, not to worry, go ahead an order that stack.

I've got a theory that sounds pretty good... to me.  You see, Camano Island was formed by glacier till about a Brazilian years ago.  There is no bedrock on Camano Island... yes, there are a couple of Bed & Breakfast's, but, no bedrock.  I understand that radio communication is "different" here on the island.  The magnetic field or something like that, is ... well, just "different"... this affects human beings... it makes one cry out for a brush.  What can I say... it's magical.

When one crosses over the Mark Clark bridge, something magical happens... one gets a craving to paint... and eat blueberry pancakes.  

It's magical, I tell ya.  

Ohhh, it's here... I mean... IT'S here.  No, not the latest 2 inch thick Sear's and Rowback catalog.  So, don't take the old one out to the shack in the back, just yet.  

I'm talking about the latest issue of The Crab Cracker... the one with my little painting and startling revelation of the migrating snow elephants returning to our lovely Pacific northwest.   

Go out and snag one of these literary and pictorial delights for yourself... before I have them all tracked down and have absconded with them stealthier than a bailed out Wall Street banker.  

They should be able to be found at a number of locations around Camano Island, or Stanwoodopolis on the mainland.  Ahhh, to my readers from distant lands, Stanwoodopolis probably will not show up on a Google Map search because the name of this sprawling megalopolis of some 4,000 folks and lost souls from the "other" political party, has been listed as Stanwood, WA 98292.

So, if you see a mud caked Jeep that is a little lower in the rear end, it could be that it is loaded with Crab Crackers, or it could just be that I've just returned from enjoying an stack of blueberry pancakes at the Elger Bay Cafe. 

Below is a copy of the cover story:

With the start of winter, my thoughts turn to spring.  Sort of like the business owners who start to think of the Christmas season in July...  goodness, the displays seem to go up earlier each year.

Much like the return of the sparrows to the Mission in San Juan Capistrano,  there is the annual return of the Canadian Snow Geese from Mexico, Arizona, or  even a couple from Florida, or wherever it is they choose to spend their time.   However, one can easily recognize the geese returning from Florida by their white shoes and checked pants.  Of course, no one really knows for certain where the white elephants spend their winter time.  It is so sad that there are no missions on Fir Island or Camano Island for monks to ring bells upon the sighting of the first snow goose, or white elephant. 

I can almost hear you gasp... "white elephants?"... "you've seen them too?"... sightings are so rare... and, yes, they are only usually seen when they "let their hair down" distracted by a close flying snow goose who wants to play.

I anticipate the spring, seeing the geese in the fields around our wonderful Pacific northwest... flying in and out, and playing with the occasional white elephant.  Yes, be certain to be on the look out... not many of them have been captured on film.  However, for your reference, I've provided a plein aire painting of a sighting from around the Fir Island area.

The Crab Cracker is a delightful publication that comes out twice each month.  We folks up here look forward to reading each issue to discover the island activities, to learn about some of our fellow islanders, and read short stories about humorous adventures of the area, note the ads of the good people who make it possible, and view art work by islanders.   It's sort of a literary digest for gentle folks who inhabit the woods and bluffs of Camano Island.

Well, here it is, Sunday evening, Nairy and I have  just finished watching 60 Minutes, Thumper has just completed her paw licking for the moment, and I decide to check my e-mail. Well...  Goodness!  and other words that one uses at such times... there it is, an e-mail from Jim Shipley, the publisher of the Crab Cracker, telling me that my little painting "White Elephant playing in a Field with Snow Geese" and my story about how white elephants can be observed playing in fields with migrating snow geese about this time of the year is going to be on the cover at the end of this month.  

Granted, it's not like being on the cover of the Rolling Stone, however, I'd rather have folks read one of my stories in the Crab Cracker than in one of those publications one sees at the checkout counter of the grocery stores.

Keep coming back to this blog... I'll post a photo as soon as I get a copy.

Cows are neat!  Cows are gentle creatures... they always have been!  This has been previously documented in my earlier blog entries.  I ask you, have you ever heard anyone accuse cows of horseplay?  Of course not!

Yes, cows have evolved over time.  Much like humans... except that cows do not use cell phones, or drive sports cars, and a few other things.  Humans enjoy activities, and excel in Scrabble, setting new pole vaulting records, and such.  My research has led me to believe that a major setback for cows is their lack of opposable thumbs.  Let's face it, in typing, how could you use a space bar without your thumbs!  Ride a bicycle without thumbs?  I think not... how could you ring the little bell on the handle bars?

Seriously... domesticated cows today can no longer jump with the mastery of earlier generations.  Today, young heifers can only experience a taste of the thrill for jumping by using a pogo stick.  And at that, when on the pogo stick, they must be quite careful that they don't accidentally land on their tail.  

Jumping is quite in the past... perhaps if one watches closely, especially when they don't think that anyone is looking, one may happen upon a good game of hopscotch... I will admit that I have seen some cows playing, what looked like, a friendly game of hop scotch.  However, when they saw I was looking, they blushed and went on with grazing.


OK... so, why is it that cowgirl is one word and my computer beeps when I write girlcow?  Hmmm, it ain't in the dictionary either...  I tell you, it’s time cows stood up on their back two hooves for their rights!  

Can’t you just envision the sight of 10,000 cows marching in lockhoof unity with their large Swiss bells around their necks clanging, as they head toward the main office of Webster’s?  They do have a main office... don’t they?  

In my mind, I rather imagine this Webster fellow as a young lad who was always running home after school because all of the kids would make fun of him because he always carried a black leatherette briefcase with a lot of books that he actually read.  

But I digress.

What kind of rallying cry would cows have???  "Give me an "M"... give me a "O" ... give me a "O"!

Oh well...

Dear reader, please understand that this is NOT a "mad cow" incident here.  It is just that the time has come for justice.

Being peaceful creatures, this would be a friendly, organized demonstration, not a stampede.   Of course, there would be music, such as "When you come to San Francisco, be sure to wear flowers in your horns", "Puff the Magic Holstein", "Fly me to the moon"... the original version, by Cowsmonaute Zenia, who jumped over the moon.  

Which brings me to the point of cow breath!  I feel the need to ask you... have you ever been around cows with bad breath?  Of course not!  I've learned their secret!  You understand, that you are sworn to secrecy... cows chew Juicy Fruit gum... there, you have it!  If you ever are walking along a country road, you will notice that cows will look at you with their big brown eyes and keep chewing!  Then as you look around the fields, I'm certain without a doubt that you will not find any gum wrappers!  Cows are neat!

Hot Dog!  

Uhh, do they still sell Beanies and Weenies?  You see, when I was a kid, I liked the tiny hot dogs in the beans... sort of like a mid westerners gourmet  hors d'oeurves back so many years ago.  

OK, if we were chatting on that Facebook thingee, I know you would be hammering the keys:  "What this has to do with art?" (typing with an accent)  ...well, patience darling!  

You see, Karla Matzke is hosting the 19th annual "Honey, I Shrunk the Art" at her 10 acre sculpture park and 3,000 square foot gallery on Camano Island.   This show runs between November 14, 2009 and January 3, 2010.

Are you with me yet?  Hot Dog!  I'm excited to be in this show!  But perhaps since it's about small works of art, I should be seeing if our island grocery store has Beanies and Weenies to get in the spirit of this event.

In any event, if you are within 3 days drive of the island, be certain to come on over to the Matzke Fine Art Gallery and Sculpture Park at 2345 Blanche Way on Camano Island. 

If you are in the Stanwood, Washington area, please take a moment to stop by the Stanwood Community Resource Foundation office at 9620 271st NW, Stanwood, WA 98292.  This is venue for the Art in Public Places for the Stanwood Camano Arts Guild, for which, I am the site manager.   This exhibit will continue through mid - April, 2010.

You will be treated to a beautiful exhibit of original paintings and photographs from nine members of our guild in a welcoming location.  The foundation office has the feel of a home of times past, where one can enjoy browsing shelves of books that are for sale.   Have a chat over a meeting table, or speak with a representative regarding services available through the Resource Foundation.

In the photo above you see the photography of Ron Southworth above the fireplace and Richard Swetman below the window to the left of the fireplace.  

If you would like to see some of the work of Ron Southworth, please click on his name.

Early in my research on the jumping cows of the Pacific northwest, I was faced with much skepticism as I would patiently defend my thesis at the renowned institute of higher learning, The Conway Protempore Universidad and Borstal, in the Cowsmotology Division, now just abbreviated: The Conway Pub... where one can still get a good education and a great oyster lunch.

Some doubters and naysayers have proclaimed, without even a modicum of proof:  “Everyone knows that white guys can’t dance and cows can’t jump.”  Then one day it occured to me as I was studying a label on the back of a domestic hops container... I remembered some of the logs kept by Captain George Vancouver... actually, while the concept has been in writing and read by many, the true meaning came as a flash!  I couldn’t control myself, I yelled: “Yreka! “ The poor guy sitting next to me almost fell from his elevated seat... however, he did this occasionally, at times for no reason whatsoever.  However, this time he didn’t spill a drop of his liquid nourishment.  He only muttered something like “You done baxter, it’s Eureka!”... but, as he was usually difficult to understand, and since he was a former Californian, I just ignored him.

“That’s it!  If you tell someone anything often enough, they will believe it!”  I learned this during one of my Political Science classes; and it served me well during my first 4 marriages.  

As I documented in a previous blog entry, early cows were great jumpers.  When cows were domesticated,  the farmers didn’t want to have to put up really tall fences.   To effect this change, the cows were repeatedly told: “cows can’t jump”!  The present cows of Whidbey Island are descendants of the undomesticated, gentle and friendly bovines that inhabited this area for millennium... or is it milennei?... milenea?  (note to the editor: make that a whole bunch of years.)  


In the spring of 1792, Captain George Vancouver, Joseph Whidbey and Peter Puget were cruising in the Pacific northwest.  (Side note 1:  The guys who sold them the boat told them that the chicks in this area were so hot!)  (Side note 2:  Captain Vancouver liked to call Joseph Whidbey, Jose because he knew it bugged him... and he was just a real tease.)  (Side note 3:  Captain Vancouver liked to “pull Joseph Whidbey’s chain” to see his face turn an unnatural shade of red, which had actually been brought on by his  consuming great quantities of Gin.   At the start of the voyage from jolly old England to the new world, he drank Gin and tonic, however, because of the rough seas, all of the bottles of tonic had been shaken excessively and the tops blew off... good pop tops had not been yet invented, so he was forced to drink the Gin by itself.)  (Side note 4:  In the future, research why England is referred to as jolly and old.)  (Side note 5:   In the future, limit side notes.)

Three swarthy guys had previously explored this wonderful Pacific northwest area and had given up boating and taken up singing, because during their long travels from Spain (actually, the fat one was from Italy) they discovered they had really good tenor voices, and besides, they had really grown tired of fish tacos or pasta with fish for dinner every night and craved pork tacos or a really good deep dish pepperone and bacon pizza.  (editors note:  The Pig War had its basis in this weakness for pork items when, before they returned home, they went to some island in the north and shot a pig.  This really upset some folks so they just lied and said: “Hey!, the Gringo’s did it”.)

The swarthy guys had previously named the water area Apestoso Pescado de Agua because they were really tired of fish by this time.

Dear reader, you see the boat Captain George Vancouver bought was this boat that the swarthy guys used... they turned the odometer back to make it look as if it hadn’t been used much.

When Joseph Whidbey saw the beauty of this area with gently flowing water he said:  “Hey George (Captain Vancouver), that Spanish name is just too long, how about if we name it after Pete (Peter Puget) because you got that really big island up north where the natives were saying “ehh” all of the time (Vancouver Island), and I’m waiting for something really cool to come along.  And, you know, Peter has been in a grand funk for the last few days.  He was hoping to discover chicks in this area, so let’s see if we can cheer him up a bit.  How does the name: Pete’s Pool sound, you know... for Pete’s sake?  Thankfully, Captain George Vancouver had the wisdom to say:  Oh, for Petes sake, No way, Jose... how does Puget sound?”  And thus, the name was given!  

So, there they were, just cruising along, going up the coast again, trolling for chicks.  About this time, they were alongside what is now Whidbey Island.

The old maps that were left behind in the glove compartment box when they bought  their boat from the used boat salesman showed this new island as a continuous land connected at the north with what is now called Fidalgo Island.  The Brits, were beginning to realize they got stiffed by the Spanish tenor boat guys and, besides, didn’t want to trust anyone who wore really shiney suits and had fish breath.  The Spanish sailors had marked this piece of land Vacasylvania because of all of the friendly cows they saw waving at them as they sailed by.   

Well, just as Joseph Whidbey was going through the narrow passage at the  north end, he looked up to see a holstein just clearing the mast of his schooner.   Hooo...ley cow!  He exclaimed, those $#@! swarthy guys stuck us with a lousey map!  Those dirty buggers deceived us!  By George, this is a freekin’ island!  I’m going to name this George Island in honor of the boss... this should give me some brownie points, and as for this place... it’s got to be called Deception... uhhhm, Deception something or other.  Got it!!!  Deception Pass because that cow just jumped pass my mast.

Here is where good ol’ Captain George Vancouver stepped in and showed his wisdom.  Again, for the good of the morale, and because he was just a nice guy, Captain George Vancouver said:  “Thanks Jose, but, it’s your turn... how about let’s call it Whidbey Island after you?  Well, Joseph Whidbey about cried!  

So, as the record books indicate, in June of 1792, Joseph Whidbey circumnavigated the island now named Whidbey.  And at the far north end, where he wrote in his manifest:

Hay, diddle diddle (British spelling for diddel diddel) the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over Deception Pass.   He never was able to forget the sight of the cow jumping.

Since they never did find any chicks they decided to go back to England where the brilliant navigator, Captain Vancouver died at the age of 40.  

Joseph Whidbey lived to a ripe old age of 76 and had success as an engineer who helped to make the breakwater in Plymouth, England.  His house, called Bovisand House, near Plymouth still stands.   Dear reader, did you notice the name “Bovisand”?  Did you detect any semblance with the word “bovine”?  It seems that he never could forget his memories of the cow jumping over his boat as he navigated the dangerous currents between Whidbey Island and Fidalgo Island in the area he named Deception Pass.

Then there was Peter Puget.  Peter Puget died in England at the age of 56, leaving 7 sons, 4 daughters and a very tired wife. 

Life was so much more simple when I was growing up.  Our ice cream "hang out" place had vanilla, chocolate and every once in a while, strawberry.  Ohhh, I just remembered their root beer floats!  Our little town didn't have any traffic lights.  Our town cop drove the family car.  TV was so totally awesome... although, I don't think we used that expression then... it was black and white, with a lot of snow.  A computer was a really complex mechanical contraption that could perform some complex functions like adding, subtracting... and I don't remember what else.  

Well, just over a week ago my Macintosh Power Book computer got ill.  Actually, a cooling fan developed a problem.   Before it completely self destructed, I shut it down.  My wife and I went to the Apple Store on the mainland where we were told that the good folks at Apple no longer had parts for my heirloom 7 year old computer.  

The solution to this predicament was to spend a princely sum to get a new laptop computer.  Once our Jeep was loaded with boxes and pages of notes, taken while talking with the patient sales person, we headed for Camano Island.  Thinking it would be a "beautiful day in the neighborhood" once again, I was able to transfer the information from my old laptop to the new one before the feared meltdown occurred.  

My moment of elation was cut short when I discovered that some of my old... antique, in computer life, software stuff wouldn't work.   Well humpf and uff dah!  To go out and buy the newest edition of Photoshop would cost more than I've paid for some cars I've owned in the past!

So, I've been playing with some of the programs that came with my two digital cameras.  Well, I'm still not numbered in the directory of  "happy campers".  

I ask for patience and will once again get some more of my little paintings up when I determine which course of action will solve my quandary.  

In the meanwhile, I'm remembering when my Smith Corona typewriter was 7 years old, it still seemed like a new wonderful machine to me.  Ahhh, life was so much more simple then.  

Rats!  We don't have any root beer.

Good heaven’s!  I’m retired and I don’t seem to have enough time to do all of the things I want.  Yes, it’s also true that I don’t do what I do as fast as I used to do what I did; or, for that matter, as much or as often, but that’s another story.  My gripe du jour is: it doesn’t seem as if there are enough hours in the day to adequately devote time to the stuff that rocks my boat!... yes, I like boats, and lived, for a while, on a couple of them... this is bound to be stuff of a future blog entry.  

Since I was a kid... man, that was a long time ago... I’ve had an intrigue with horology.  As a paperboy, one of my customers was a jeweler who had a great deal of patience for my many questions.  He would show me the movements of watches on which he was working and explain how he would even make parts for some problem areas.  

This intrigue with watches has never left me.  One of my favorite web sites is TimeZone where other WIS (Watch Idiot Savants) hang out and worry if a particular strap on their Flieger Chronograph makes their arm look fat.   

Oh goodness!  There it was in mid June... one of the fellows had placed a post for these great paintings of Sabina Delillo, his Significant Others... she paints watches!  Oh my gosh!  She has blended a love for watches with art!  If you also have a love for wrist watches, click on this link http://www.sabinadelillo.com, you will be in for a real treat.  Ahhh, but she doesn’t just paint watches!  Her European  architectural paintings are magnificent!

Be certain to visit her section for paintings in progress on her web site.  You  are in for a treat... I’ve seen several progress stages of a wonderful street scene in Paris.  

She is a born artist, and it looks as if she has quirks... for example, she uses her arm as a palette!  Can’t you just imagine the conversations in that household?  ... “Karl, does this anthraquinoid red make my arm look fat?”

WAHOO! Now, I know what you are thinking... Wahoo, Nebraska, roughly between Omaha and Lincoln.  No, that’s not it.   Note that  I spelled it with all capital letters... as in yelling it.  YIPPEE just didn’t seem to express my feelings.  Oh Goodie... no that doesn’t do it either...  I’m just not a “yippee” or “oh goodie” kinda guy.  

WAHOO!  I am going to be having some of my little paintings at the annual Art By The Bay Show on Camano Island, July 11 and 12.  The show opens at 10 AM and closes at 5 PM.

The Utsalady School is on Arrowhead Road on Camano Island, Washington.


I had not been planning to show at this years Art By The Bay because of too many commitments, however, the draw of good friends, music and food are too much to resist.

If you are anywhere west of the Missouri River and north of Sacramento, California, and south of Wasilla, Alaska during this time, be certain to attend.

Upon entering the Patron’s Party for the 2009 Stanwood Camano Arts Guild Spring Art Show, I glanced over to where my paintings were hanging.  There it was, a beautiful golden yellow ribbon indicating third place for Cross Island Camano.  

Now, three days later, I’m still in a state of disbelief.  Over the weekend I had a chance to look closely at the other works in the show and I’m even more in shock.   There were some wonderful pieces by very talented artists in this show.  

Later in the evening, it was quite a delight to find a red dot on the title card.  Today (Monday 8 June) I had the pleasure to deliver this piece to its beautiful new home on the east side of Camano Island.

As a child it seemed to be an eternity between one birthday and the next one.  I think we’ve all heard a child answer the “how old are you?” question with an answer like:  “I’m 6 1/2 years old.  

Each year passes more quickly than the one prior.  So I think I’ve found a magical way to slow time down just a little... move to an island.  Not just any island, Camano Island.  In the summer the daylight starts early in the day and there is even some light remaining at 10 PM.  

There really is such a thing as “island time”.  Perhaps this is just another reason why I like to live on Camano Island.  The pace of life is just a little more slow.  Even the maximum speed on the road is 50 miles per hour in some areas; and that is just for a short distance. 

“Boring” is not a word I hear.  

An island is an ideal place for children and adults.  We can each be free to experience island time  and on our own time reference continuum.  Yes, an island is a place where a kid can be a kid... no matter what age.

OK, we’ve all heard that one should “Think big”... “Bigger is better”... or in the fast food lingo, “May we super size that order?”  Well, I’m thinking that I would rather have my art small... then it is able to be enjoyed on a more personal level.  

It was an honor to, once again, meet a lady who had bought two of my little paintings during the 2008 “Art by the Bay” show.  She said they are now in her kitchen where she starts her day with her cup of coffee.  I like that!

In Sydney, British Columbia, there is an art gallery where I remember seeing works by an artist who paints miniature landscapes.  I recall thinking that they were jewels.  I’ve vowed to return to this gallery, and at least, learn more about this artist.

Just one of the pleasures in life I’ve been able to experience is living on boats.  Believe me, that is where one can really appreciate beauty in small space.  Some of the boats I’ve visited were exquisite, with their finely inlaid teak and multifunction areas.

Perhaps I’ve been drawn to small places.  I would much rather live on a small island rather than in a city.  I am in awe of the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright.  Yes, I know that  visions come to mind of his stately mansions, or his important commercial designs.  However, after seeing a number of the beautiful “coffee table books” with photos of his homes, and visiting a number of his homes in California, his studio in Oak Park, Illinois, and walking in the area where a number of his designs are located in that pretty city, in my mind I come back to La Miniatura, the home he designed for Mrs. G.M. Millard in Pasadena, California... that’s my favorite.   

I love cars... perhaps it’s a guy thing.  My first car was a 1955 Buick.  Goodness!  Large... think “Exxon Valdez with wheels”.  I think the one car that I’ve owned that I enjoyed the most was my “two seater” 1967 Lotus.  Heaven knows, it wasn’t reliable... however, what it lacked in reliability, it more than made up for in style.  

I enjoy painting miniatures... I can get lost for hours painting one of them.  Now if only I could get this same train of thought working on my ever growing waist line.  

In the course of my doctoral dissertation research, on  the pre homosapien evolution of Whidbey Island, I came across archive material which I feel will in due time lead to a Pulitzer Prize, or a Nobel Peace Prize, if not a Stanwood Community Fair ribbon.

Because I hold you in the very utmost pinnacle of esteem, I shall share with you details of my findings, that up until now, have never been released.

Long before the first native American came to the region, cows populated the latitude and longitude of the Pacific North West that has come to be known as Whidbey Island.  

Careful translation of inscriptions discovered  on cuneiform tablets, written by ancient native Americans, found in a field on Whidbey Island, holds that the cows came to Whidbey Island carried by the wings of gods.  However, I have, at last, formulated and documented rock forms on the narrow passage between Fidalgo Island and Whidbey Island that reveal hoof marks where the cows jumped from one island to the other.  This is the area of 48° 24' 04.54" N, 122° 37' 28.96" W, per NOAA Chart 18427.  This spot in recent history has been named Deception Pass.  In this very location, the Corps of Engineers built the impressive Deception Pass bridge.  

Imagine my feelings of elation as I carefully excavated the exit and entrance points where the bovine creatures jumped across the swiftly moving treacherous passage.  As weeks passed into months, fortified only by prodigious amounts of brandy, the words of the ancient cuneiform translated into the English, “hey diddle diddle” lead to further startling revelations.  Please read the next sentence at least twice to allow the impact of the words to adequately permeate into your conscientious... the cow that jumped over the moon actually left the earth AND returned to the earth on Whidbey Island.

Further research and calculations led to the realization that these ancient bovine creatures practised “touch and goes” on a level area to the south of present day Coupeville on Whidbey Island.  I can almost hear you say... ahhh haaa!, and, you betcha!  Yes, this is true... this is where today one finds the U.S. Navy has a training runway used by pilots to practice their skills of landing and taking off.

While it is commonly acknowledged that pigs have the ability to fly, if they so choose, other animal levitation has rarely been documented.  Based upon the research of fellow scientist, Dr. J.G., sheep have extra ordinary jumping abilities, however, are unable to overcome the forces of air turbulence.   Dr. G. spent countless hours of research, kept alive only by a liquid diet, has received world wide aclaim for his research on the flight of pigs.  

As a side note, in one of my recent paintings I have documented the origins of the marks on the moon that have mistakenly been called craters.  They are marks from the landing of jumping white elephants.  However, that is work for yet a future treatise.


Studying the ancient round platters found in the fields have revealed historical reports of bovine space travel written in cowese.  I have been able to translate from the cowish to our present day English language.  

If a cow was studying to jump into space, she was called a Space Cowdet.  Once she had achieved the goal of jumping over the moon, she was awarded the title of Cowsmonaut.  

Please refer to my paintings of Space Cowdet Lisa, and Space Cowdet Emma, along with Cowsmonaut Wendy and Cowsmonaut Zenia.

While Cowsmonaut Wendy was painted when in her prime, during her historic jump, Cowsmonaut Zenia was painted at a later stage of her life after she had returned to earth and like an older football player, has managed put on a few extra pounds.

In the future I plan to document on canvas the tragic re-entry of Brown Cow when she miscalculated her landing  and ended up caught in a Madrone tree.  Poor creature, all the other cows who saw her there could only look up and say:  “How now Brown Cow?”

Please be certain to send you generous donation for the funding of this research.

As a child growing up in the middle of the 20th century, I lived for a while in Laurel, Nebraska, a small town in northeast Nebraska.  

There was a creek that ran about a mile the north of the town which was a good place to explore, fish and imagine all sorts of things.  Some times during the year there would be an island in the middle of my favorite part.  To get there, a friend and I would make a boat, or a bridge, of what ever was available.  Now that I think of it, to call it a boat or a bridge is to elevate the status of the pile of scrap wood and our building abilities.

It didn’t matter that once we reached the island it was not really a destination where one would want to be stranded for more than 15 minutes because if nothing else, one could be assured of sinking in, up to ones ankles.  It didn’t matter that our island was just a few feet from shore, the view was so... well... just different from the island, it was magical being there.  

So now, some 50 plus years later, I really live on an island... Camano Island... a real island.  Yes, the view IS really different from here; and there is something magical about being here.

To get to Camano Island one takes a real bridge, the Mark Clark bridge, or a small boat.  The Mark Clark bridge goes from the mainland to Leque Island, population, under 10 (I have a map which shows it as Lequi Island), where, during parts of the year, one is assured of sinking in, up to ones ankles.  Then one takes another bridge, so small that I don’t think it even has a name, to get to Camano Island.  If you choose to come by boat, it should be a small boat because there are no piers that would be reliable at all tide levels for a larger one.  Or just take an even smaller boat and plan to get wet as you come ashore... just like our little island in northeast Nebraska so many years ago.