Biography / Kristine Henshaw

I came into this world as Kristine Johansen, the fifth of six girls that were a source of humor and pride to my father. The son of a Norwegian fisherman and the daughter of the lighthouse keeper at Mukilteo, at 20 he married my mother, also from Mukilteo. We lived in Kirkland until I was 6 years old when the family moved to Ritzville, the small, irrigated desert town sixty miles south of Spokane.

Traveling much of the time between Oregon, Washington, Idaho and Montana in his job as a hardware representative, he found Ritzville a convenient and centralized place to visit his family. He was on the verge of successfully transitioning to fulltime employment as a free-lance photographer, his longtime avocation, when he died unexpectedly at 49, leaving my overburdened, but very loving mother to finish raising her daughters alone. I was 17.

I idolized my eldest sister Dona. Her talent as an artist had been recognized from kindergarten on. She once took me on a sketching excursion to the municipal airport where I marveled at her skill in rendering a crumpled small airplane. On another occasion I helped her dig up worms that she dipped in paint and placed upon a canvas in the back yard. Her creative genius was thwarted when they ceased to move.

Dona later dropped out of art school, had children and stopped making art. Envious of her natural ability, I was perplexed by this for a long time before realizing that it takes more than talent to be an artist. Although convinced that I had no artistic talent, I have always enjoyed drawing and am happiest when making things. I find that along with a sincere joy in creation, I have imagination, determination, tenacity, focus and stamina.

I graduated from high school in 1969, with no goal other than a longing to see something of the world. I found a job at a four star hotel in Hamburg, Germany and in an act of bravery that astonishes me today, set forth by myself to that city of several million people. Over the next eight years I worked odd jobs in Düsseldorf, Frankfort, Hartford, Austin, Miami, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic. My mother and five of my sisters were living in Spokane where I returned to attend Spokane Falls Community College. After two years I received my Associated Arts degree with a 3.9 GPA. My intended major was philosophy.

Every year as a child we would leave the flat, dusty wheat fields of Ritzville behind and make the trek over the mountains to visit relatives on Mercer Island. The wet, green, mossy hillsides were intensely sensual and fascinating, reawakening early memories of Lake Washington, and bringing to life the black and white photos of my parents, grandparents and family, always set against the backdrop of Puget Sound. After a visit to Seattle with friends, I decided to make the city my home.

I was attending classes at Seattle Central Community College when I met Ron Henshaw. Greatly influence by the political climate of the times, Ron had been active in the protests against Viet Nam, had tried back-to-nature communal living, studied with Maharishi in Spain and taught Transcendental Meditation. He was currently studying psychology at Antioch University. We were married three weeks after our first date and have been living happily ever after for almost thirty years now.

1/2

With a mutual fear and trembling before the universe in common, we both quit school and moved to Pleasant Beach (it was) on Bainbridge Island to begin our life together. Ron shared with me his love of nature acquired growing up on the island where his father had been born. Believing in my talent, he encouraged me to take my love of art seriously.

I began working on a book of single frame cartoons called “The Illustrated Guide to Insanity.” Although I never completed the project, I taught myself much of what I know about art in the process. I learned that through art I could express an idea or an emotional state, concisely communicating without the hindrance of words, to make a direct impact on the viewer. Over the years we moved back and forth from Seattle to Kitsap Peninsula, working mostly part-time jobs as I continued to pursue art skills. Overestimating the interest in the Washington Centennial, we spent a year developing a line of educational tourist souvenirs about the historic “Mosquito Fleet.” Ron wrote, and I illustrated a small book that someday we plan to rewrite.

I have always enjoyed doing studies after the masters and reading about them. The lessons I have learned from artists ranging from Raphael and Dürer, to Lautrec and Picasso have been invaluable to my development as an artist. Unsure of my talent, I avoided taking art classes. Finally in 1997, I enrolled at the Academy of Realist Art (now Gage Academy) where I studied full-time for two years. I felt like a sponge, soaking up an artistic tradition passed down from teacher to student through the history of art. I am very grateful.

After attending several workshops in decorative painting and plastering techniques, in 2000, I acquired a business license and bond and began Henshaw Murals and Fine Art, a compromise between my goal of being an artist and my need to make a living. After two years, Ron joined me. Working exclusively with designers, together we have a body of work enhancing many beautiful homes and commercial properties in the greater Seattle area. We recently were Seattle Magazine’s top pick for our field.

The artistic standards I set for myself have always been high. I have never wanted to be an artist trying to sell substandard work. I enjoy the process of art and do not require that it make money for me. Art is one place where I can do as I please. I enjoy experimenting with different styles and with different media including charcoal, pastel, papier mache, gouache and especially oils.

I do not care to evoke my inner angst or express the condition of the modern world. Santayana suggests we find what is our “swimming stroke to the drowning man.” The love of nature that is my legacy, inherited from my parents and which I have explored so richly with my husband is my swimming stroke and is that which I offer with hope to others as a place to rest in the tumultuous waters of life.

K             Kristine Henshaw

www.HenshawMurals.com

Pileated Woodpecker

WATCHING BIRDS

Barred Owl

I was painting at the Washington Park Arboretum while my husband Ron was looking for birds to photograph. A song sparrow he was tracking flew up into some over-hanging branches. Looking through his telephoto lens, he came face-to-face with a sleeping Barred Owl. Calling me on his cell phone he said, “Drop everything. We’ve got an owl!” Ron took pictures of the impressive sleepy bird as I sketched.

Black-Capped Chickadees

One of the most charming and musical sounds is that of the “chick a dee dee dee.” We have learned to pay close attention for that call as flocks of chickadees, being great foragers, scout the way for Nuthatches, Kinglets and other less common birds. One of the acrobatic little birds in this painting is a nod to John James Audubon.

Great Blue Heron

There couldn’t be a more cooperative model than the Great Blue Heron. They stand motionless with infinite patience until their long legs begin to resemble reeds to the fish below.

Wood Ducks

I was plein-air painting Foster Island in the Washington Park Arboretum when a female wood duck came over to watch me paint. Compared to her extraordinarily handsome mate I was under the mistaken impression that she was drab. Upon closer inspection I saw her mysterious white Cleopatra eye and turquoise tail feathers.

Western Gull

At Second Beach by La Push on the Olympic coast one morning we stopped to feed a flock of gulls. Accustomed to the begging gulls at Ivar’s in Seattle, we were surprised to find that these more exotic birds flew away when we tried to feed them!

Sometimes we are kidded about our enthusiasm for bird watching. One day we were out in the woods gathering some wood when a friend exclaimed “Oh…my…God!” and pointed up at a Pileated Woodpecker a few yards away. Impressed by the bird’s brilliant red head we gained a new convert to the excitement of watching birds.

Sanderlings

Ron and I were walking along the shoreline at Mora Beach on the Olympic Coast one fall foggy morning. The small rocks nearby began to move. Upon closer inspection we discovered a flock of Sanderlings! Their clever camouflage protected them as they scurried in and out of the surf, over sand and rocks

2/2

Red-Winged Blackbirds

My husband and I were new to bird watching when we sighted our first Red-Winged Blackbird at Golden Gardens in Seattle. We followed an unfamiliar call to a bush but only found a crow. With a shock of color it suddenly flashed a yellow and red wing!