Kittens to the Rescue / October 26, 2026 by Tyler Voorhees

Dalí, Picasso, Warhol, O’Keeffe. Hemingway, Dickens, Twain. These are artists and authors who only need one name for recognition. They are titans of creativity who created some of the most memorable pieces of artwork and literature ever. Period. The word legend is grossly overused, but these seven hold that title when others fall short.

This group of creative wonders also share another unassailable trait: they loved cats.

Wandering Easels: REVISITED / September 1, 2026 by Ashley Voorhees

I’m typically a man looking forward. Or at least looking around me, attempting to fully appreciate the present moment. In this aim, I occasionally succeed. I find it interesting that in my work, I am constantly looking to the past out of curiosity and for inspiration for my paintings, but I don’t often look back at my own life in depth. I guess my favorite moment is the undiscovered one on the horizon, just like my favorite painting is the next one.

From time to time, however, I take a deep dive into what has been, and it is a treat. Today is one of those days when I invite you to take a look back at a blog from 2018 about the easels in my life, all of which I still have and use. Enjoy this blast from the past and read until the end for an update from the present. Without further hemming and hawing, I present “THE WANDERING EASELS”.
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Sunlight pokes through the leaves swaying in the warm breeze. I feel the cool of dusk coming on as I dip my brush in an unnamed shade of gray. The depths of the forest beyond my easel beckon me, the still wilderness full of endless adventure and hidden wonders. But instead of venturing I stand, eyes darting between my sketchbook and canvas and the dancing shadows of the woodlands. I am in my happy place and it could be anywhere.

Most artists that I know come from humble beginnings. They began their art careers as hapless hobbyists, holding down a mundane job that pays the bills but offers little fulfillment, especially when compared to the thrill of creating art that they keep as their (often) secret pastime. They spend every spare moment in their makeshift "studio", often a rickety table in a spare bedroom or the dinner table once the dishes are cleared. They long for more time, more space, more money so that they can ditch the nine to five and put their artist smock on full-time (it's just an expression, nobody wears smocks). They are well-fed but yet, they are hungry.

I was a once a waiter at a restaurant in Boulder, Colorado called Turley's. The money was good and I'm a people-person so the work was enjoyable enough, but every weekend and many late nights during the week, I would go to our tiny spare bedroom and lose myself in my art. I had set up a mammoth wooden easel given to me by a prep cook who had acquired it when a boss from his second job was clearing out a storage garage. It's heavy, handmade, and perhaps the object I've sat in front of most in my life (a TV with a Nintendo plugged into it coming in at a close second).

This easel, currently standing idly next to me, has been lugged around to four different Colorado locations and one in Michigan, banging into my shins countless times and always presenting a challenge to my packing process when we move. It has held over a hundred paintings as they evolve from the proverbial "blank canvas" to a completed work of art. It has had paint hurled at it, been gouged, seared, and occasionally cursed at, but it holds firm. My easel is the best kind of friend.

The beginnings of the ORIGINAL Lamplighter and very first Job of Yesteryear in my first Boulder studio | Boulder, CO

The original Ice Cutter in the same Boulder second bedroom studio | Boulder, CO

Garage studio - no heat, ac, or insulation | Fort Collins, CO

This companion also has two little brothers: a couple of travel easels that I pack into my traveling artist bin when we hit the road. These two lively little fellas get all the action, bouncing around in the camper as we amble down a gravel road towards hot springs in Wyoming. They get to stand on a picnic table at the foot of the majestic Catalina mountains outside of Tucson as the warm desert sun welcomes the vibrant desert bloom. Or, as I described at the beginning of this essay, they sit with me beneath the towering oak trees on my sister's Wisconsin acreage. I've painted in a dank basement in St. Louis, on a lake in Utah, and in countless spare bedrooms of my relatives. It's not always ideal or efficient to create this way, but I've got to admit, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Munich studio circa 2010 | Muenchen, Deutschland

Wooded sand dune studio | Grand Haven, MI

Putting that travel easel to work | Fort Collins, CO

Jordanelle Reservoir studio | Park City, UT

Red Feather Lakes bedroom studio | Red Feather Lakes, CO

Van Buren State Park studio | South Haven, MI

Through hard work, grit, a lot of mistakes and a whole heap of little gifts from God, my wife and I now own a building where I can create art in relative comfort. I have a dedicated space to stain and prepare panels, storage for shipping supplies and finished artwork, room for my drum kit that I bang on from time to time, and most importantly, a spot by two windows (natural light!!!) for my trusty easel. My wife finally has a dedicated office space (blog post on the horizon about ALL that she handles) and we even managed to squeeze in a little gym space for our pursuits in sweat. We feel so blessed and grateful for all that we've been given and looking back, it's been such an adventure to get here.

The unassuming outside of the new studio/office/gym | Glenn, MI

The happenings on the inside | Glenn, MI

The garage has been filling up with a lot of deliveries lately | Glenn, MI

Yes, I've come a long way from hapless hobbyist to full-time smock-wearer and my hope is that my travel easels never get dusty. This family of four has some big travels planned and I appreciate you coming along for the ride.

Stay tuned...
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UPDATE: Those two little travel easels do a lot less traveling these days as most of the paintings are started and completed at the home studio. Although, I will occasionally bring them with me to work while I camp between shows, as I did in Texas a few years back. I was painting at a picnic table when a curious passerby approached, assuming I was painting a scene from the beautiful woods that surrounded us on all sides. He was bewildered when he saw my large painting of a tugboat captain atop my little easel.

I have also used the two travel easels to show work during a monthly art critique collective that I started a year and a half ago in our local library. Ash and I go and meet up with other cratives and we share our work, talking about each piece and giving our perspective along with what could be better or just looks “off”. It has been a wonderful reminder of the connective power of art.

As for the boss hog wooden easel, I still use that solid beast most days in the studio. I often think of the impace of one thoughtful gift from a lowly immigrant prep cook all those years ago. The easel is the workhorse of our studio, which has undergone some remodeling in the eight years since this was written.

The studio/office has gotten a paint job and more natural light added with an 8 foot sliding door.

The studio has gotten a fresh coat of paint on the floors and walls plus new lighting.

The other side of the studio has been remodeled and painted and is our shipping and printing making area.

If you’re in the neighborhood the next couple of months, you can stop by to meet the easels as we open the studio for a few local art events. Check out our CALENDAR for dates. Until then, keep your eye on the prize and enjoy the moment. Oh, and occasionally take a look back to remind yourself where you started.

The studio all cleaned up and open to the public.

Come see us this fall! | Lakeshore Harvest Ride; Blue Coasts Artists Open Studios; Arts & Eats

Randyland / June 29, 2026 by Tyler Voorhees

The building on the corner was a riot of color. It was as if a Sesame Street character (let’s say Big Bird) had taken a heavy dose of LSD and was given the leftover paint cans from a kindergarten finger paint session and told to cover every surface with color. Also, there is a dumpter full of tossaway toys and vintage remnants to playfully place around the courtyard at Big Bird’s leisure.

The Ringling / March 30, 2026 by Tyler Voorhees

Riches to rags. One of the world’s wealthiest and well-known men once worth $50,000,000 reduced to lying on his death bed with $311 in his bank account. If life is a circus then John Ringling was a human cannonball hurtling through his time on earth, leaving an enduring legacy in his wake.

2025 Year in Review / January 28, 2026 by Tyler Voorhees

Paintings created: 68
Paintings that found new homes: 65
Murals scouted and planned out: 1
Murals delayed by administrative setbacks: 1
Murals painted: 0
Festivals participated in: 16
Nights spent in our camper: 55
Parking lots camped in: 6
Foreign countries visited: 5
Pints of syrup made from our maple trees: 18
Baseball teams coached: 1
Songs played on a stage at a Nashville KOA: 1
Solos played by Ivan in Spring concert: 1
Other 6th graders at his school who soloed at the concert: 0
Cats fostered: 4
Cats tearfully brought back to the shelter when we had to hit the road: 4
Lemonade stands setup by kids: 3
Inflation-busting $1 cups of lemonade sold: 22
Customers who generously tipped when paying for lemonade: 22
Drawings sold by Orin to the mayor of Greenville, SC: 1
Grumpy cats encountered at festivals: 1
Outdoor rock climbing experiences procured by proud dad/uncle: 1
Children brought to tears by being up on a rock face: 2
Cliffs jumped off of into Lake Superior: 2
Foam parties attended: 1
Professionals sports games attended: 2

Looking back, 2025 had a lot crammed into its bursting seams. Two trips to Europe: 5 weeks in Spain and Portugal at the beginning of the year and an extended Christmas vacation to Germany, France, and Italy at the end. And in between, we climbed giant boulders in the middle of Atlanta in April, explored the Carolinas while scouting out a mural location in May, headed back out to Colorado for the first time in a long time to revisit our old stomping grounds in July, scaled rock faces in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my sister and her family in August with numerous quick weekend excursions sprinkled in. It’s a lot of travel when you look at it all at once.

Jamón (ham) shop | January | Salamanca, Spain

Levada das 25 Fontes hike | February | Madeira, Portugal

Climbing on rocks | August | Big Bay, MI

Jumping off rocks | August | Marquette, MI

Be we also did a lot closer to home. We hosted two separate summer family gatherings, started an art critique, joined the local arts club and became a member of the board, employed our very first part-time employee, basked in the freed-up headspace and time due to said employee, finished renovations in the studio, held two open-to-the-public events in the studio, painted the entire exterior of our house and studio, and started more renovations in the house (when it will end?).

Our business continued its steady growth. Our employee was (and still is) a Godsend. They say they don’t make ‘em like they used to, but we managed to find a smart, attentive, and hard-working young lady that isn’t glued to her phone and prefers to be on her feet and work with her hands. She has enabled us to clock zero nights working past 11pm for the first time since we started the art business 10 years ago. Her presence is invaluable.

The studio open to the public | October | Home, MI

The Jobs of Yesteryear Series has surpassed 400 paintings. It is a vessel of my artistic interests that I couldn’t have dreamed would have this much juice to be squeezed. I have a sneaking suspicion that the fruit may begin to change its flavor, but I am so dang happy with the harvest thus far. The work has been honed and reconfigured over hundred of paintings and thousands of discussions, both internal and with the Boss. It is only through these explorations and time spent at the easel that we have been able to bring this idea to its iteration. I am ever grateful for that time and space.

Typical day at a show | July | Denver, CO

Our kids continue to grow both in their size and intelligence, but also in their complexity. Ivan is whip-smart, enrolling in an advanced literacy program at our local college as a 7th grader. He says he’s shy and won’t readily approach new social situations without his trusty (and mouthy) little bro in the lead. Be he also will go to a week-long sleepaway camp without knowing a single kid beforehand. He will volunteer to play a piano solo during the Spring concert and command the pitching mound with cool confidence. As a middle schooler, he lives for his friends, but Ivan has shown that he’s someone outside of them as well.

Swimming in the Atlantic | February | Madeira, Portugal

Ivan | First day of school | 12 years old

Ivan | First day of college | 12 years old

Orin is a wild card. Passionate and big feeling, Orin has a new hobby every few days. He is a keen observer and his comedic timing is legendary. He will hold on to a one-linger overheard in passing for a month and pull that sucker out at the exact right moment with a big sly grin. He brings a lot of laughter to our family. But he also keeps us all on edge as he is sensitive and dramatic. He can manipulate his own emotions to steer his own ship. He wanted Ivan to give him an extra dollar back in Monopoly and managed to squeeze one little tear out to aid his plea. It worked as it usually does. He’s also brave, sauntering up to German kids with one or two phrases in his pocket and asking them if they speak English. Orin is only nine but acts like he’s living nine lives at once, all of them interesting.

Orin loves frogs | January | Salamanca, Spain

On top of the world | December | Garmisch, Germany

Orin | First day of school | 8 years old (he’s 9 now)

Sold a drawing to the mayor | May | Greenville, SC

Maybe he’ll catch for his brother one day.

I have never been a big fan of the Grateful Dead, but their lyric, “what a long, strange trip it’s been” is often where I land when looking back at our adventures in life and art. Life is funny and my challenge is to not take it so seriously all the time. If I can keep my eyes open, my heart receptive, and my pen busy in my sketchbook, it’ll all turn out just fine. Thank you all for coming along with us on this ride.

Happy New Year! | December | Garmisch, Germany

The Ghastly Origins of Santa Claus / October 20, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

A famine had hit the small Italian village hard and people were getting desperate. The hunger pangs were relentless, every scrap of food was fiercely guarded, and gaunt hollow faces wandered the streets in search of sustenance.

The Bookseller / August 25, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

This story begins with a young man, a rug, and nine books. He spreads the rug out under the shade of a lone tree and sets the books out in a neat little display to catch the eye of passersby. A few stray cats amble up and silently lay down beside him. As people walk past, he picks a book up, begins to read it and is instantly transported to another world.

Following the Crumbs / June 26, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

Somewhere in the ether, some unforeseen force pointed me in the direction of a new biography about Robert Crumb, and before I even knew what happened, I had ordered it from our local bookstore (thanks for the locals’ discount, Shery!) and quickly became immersed in its pages. It is a big book, but after only a few dozen pages, I was already dreading its inevitable ending and the loss of the daily joy of reading it.

Craving the Critique / May 30, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

There were no art classes in my high school. Zero. My art education in those days relegated to the notebook margins where I drew towering long-legged cowboys lumbering over the plains of South Dakota as I half listened to Mr. Johnson recounting the Battle of Gettysburg. Later, I was one of nine graduates in the class of 2002 at Tulare High School. Go Chieftains!

Las Caras de Mogarraz (The Faces of Mogarraz) / March 24, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

As we passed by doorways framed in ancient timbers, faces began to peer at us from all angles. Villagers, both past and present, loomed above us, their heads immense and unmoving, their eyes seeming to follow our every boisterous step in the morning silence. We were being watched.

The Knitter Mural / February 14, 2025 by Tyler Voorhees

When I start writing about these mural projects, my mind always goes directly to the people behind the project. In this case, it’s Liz and Brad Hilton. We met them on the streets of Grand Haven at an art festival years ago and effortlessly connected. They found a Deep Sea Diver original painting to take home and, as I wrapped it up, they started wondering aloud about the possibility of a mural in their workspace. “I like the way you think,” I replied with a smirk.

Wrap It Up, 2024 / December 17, 2024 by Ashley Voorhees

Paintings created: 73
Paintings that found new homes: 67 (we kept one for ourselves)
Murals painted: 2
Sculptures sold: 1
Festivals participated in: 17
Festivals canceled due to not having even close to enough work: 1
Times that has happened before: 0
States visited: 9
Studios renovated: 1
Studio renovation projects not quite completed: 1
Nights spent in the camper: 56
Nights spent in hotels: 4
Nights spent in Airbnbs: 8
Days spent with puking kids in the camper: 2
Set of tire spikes carefully driven over backwards because the campground gate was closed: 1
Tires popped: 0
Prayers involved in that process: 47
Times proud parents took the kids climbing with ropes: 1
Children who cried while climbing: 2
New schools attended by our children: 2
Alamos visited: the 1 and only
Trips to Spain in progress: 1 (oh yeah!)

Time is weird. On one hand, I look back at the year and think, “Damn, that’s a full year! We sure did a lot.” And then the next thought is, “Wait, that was this year?!”

One minute, I’m looking at pics of our kids when they were cute little tikes and so adorable and I wanna squeeze ‘em and find a baby to hold and it all feels like yesterday. The next minute I’m thinking Good Lord when will these kids grow up and get their poop in a group.

The see-saw speed of time. The beautiful disjointed rhythm of life. Somehow the following vignettes from this past year all happened in one year. For whatever reason, that just doesn’t square with my brain. Was that really 2024? I guess so. Here we go.

Family ski trip | Boyne Mountain, MI | January

Overall: great year! We made and sold more art than ever before. We had our best festival EVER by a long shot (I’m looking at you Greenville). We did just as many festivals as we usually do but our workflow felt more manageable. I usually get a stye or two (and transform into Styeler) from stress, but I had zero this year and was happy to only endure a couple of cold sores. How’s that for a measure of success?

We spent so many wondrous nights in our 70% renovated 1972 Argosy comper and it was magical. About half of those nights were me alone in a parking lot or state park en route to a show, sleeping well but occasionally waking up to weird noises or police lights, none of which amounted to anything other than cheap accommodations and a story to tell Ash in the morning. The other half of our nights in the Argosy involved our family of four deep in the woods, building a campfire while the kids took laps on their bikes, Ashley tending tasty meat on the griddle; the good stuff.

Ash and I explored new territory with two INDOOR murals in our home state of Michigan: one in Marquette featuring a collaged paper process and the other in Holland utilizing a huge figure cut out of plywood. Both turned out great and we continue to laugh and dance and bicker our way through creative projects together and she manages to put up with my nonsense. God bless her.

Wing Walker Mural | Marquette, MI | February

The Knitter Mural | Holland, MI | December

I found new realms to explore with the paintings, as I continue to steadily march towards more loose, sketchy, impressionist backgrounds and more realism in the figures. Sure, their legs certainly aren’t getting any shorter, but they somehow feel more properly proportioned with slightly elongated torsos and arms, but not TOO elongated. It’s hard to put into words but they’re starting to just look right and that feels good. Ash and I were back through older work recently and she opened up an image of a painting from years back that I had forgotten I’d painted. The figure was quite whimsical and cartoony and it made me chuckle to see how the figures used to look. It’s fulfilling to see growth toward something new over the years. The following are some of my favorites from 2025:

The Bookseller | acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on stained maple panel | 72×36 inches

The Railmen | acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on stained maple panel | 72×36 inches

The Book Woman | acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on stained maple panel | 6×24 inches

The Wood Gatherer | acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on stained maple panel | 6×24 inches

Our personal lives were busy as always but, with the kids’ growing independence, we’ve had to strive more than in the past to create time for family activities. Ivan wants to be with his buds and Orin wants to be difficult and these group experiences are getting trickier to create. With that in mind, it helps to explain why the memories from the year that come up first for me are those that made us slow down and embrace one another, mostly in shared grief. Here are few wayposts of our year:

We buried my dear Grandma Stoner and the kids learned a little more about the finite reality of life, but not too much because they’re still just kids. They saw me cry as I spoke at her funeral and cry again when Ivan stepped up to share a memory. After the funeral, Ashley and my siblings and I all smoked a Marlboro Light in her honor, which is another thing our kids had never seen.
A miraculous kitten arrived one morning under our screened in porch and Ivan crawled under there through the dirt and debris to get it with butter on his fingers. He named her Buttermilk and for two days, our kids were flying high, overjoyed with this unexpected little bundle of sass. Too soon, they were forced to learn another hard lesson, this one about loving and losing pets as Buttermilk was too sick to remain with us.
In recent weeks, the family traded some future mural work with my uncle for a wood-fired sauna tent that we immediately erected in our front yard. It has quickly become a great way to spend time together and sweat our way through the gray days of Michigan winter and process all the ups and downs of our busy life. It is these moments that I cherish the most.

Overall, I am filled with such gratitude and awe at the path and place that God has brought us. At my best, I can laugh at the many small miracles that happen daily with tears in my eyes. In reality, I’m not always at my best but most days are good and I’ve got no complaints.

May your 2025 be filled with light and love and bold acts of courageous kindness, both given and received. Sending lasers of joy and wonder your way from our family to yours.

Sand dunes and Lake Michigan views | March | Home, MI

Art festival shenanigans | July | Ludington, MI

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park | August | Maple City, MI

First day of school - Ivan, 6th & Orin, 2nd | August | Home, MI

Celebrating 13 years betrothed at Arcade Fire at the Red Rocks | September | Morrison, CO

Broncos v. Saints | October | New Orleans, LA

and Ivan tried football | October | Home, MI

Found the perfect fatty tree | December | Home, MI

We rang in the New Year in Barcelona with our weirdos. | December | Barcelona

Spending the first 5 weeks of 2025 in Spain and Portugal | December | Barcelona

I Got a Job / October 10, 2024 by Tyler Voorhees

Nine years ago, Ash and I cast off on a great adventure. We quit our jobs and went on the road with our cantankerous two-year old, Ivan, in tow. Also in tow was our sweet little 13’ Scamp - a camper that was our home for nine months and one that still brings a smile to our face when we see them on the road. Our dream was simple: sell some art and see the country as a family. Rat race be damned! We were gonna make it.

This Looks Sketchy / August 23, 2024 by Tyler Voorhees

“Stay loose. Stay loose.”

This is my inner mantra in the studio as I paint. This is what I tell myself while on the wall of a mural. Heck, this can apply to most situations in my life. Stay loose. Don’t overthink it. Keep moving.

Marquette Mural Mission / June 13, 2024 by Tyler Voorhees

As you may have noticed, I’ve been busy painting copious amounts of small paintings. This size has found a niche following and we can’t seem to keep enough of them on hand. They fit my characters well, they’re easy to find a spot for, and the price is right. (There are a handful available in the shop right now. Get ‘em while you can!)

At the same time, as I’ve been cranking away at small objects of art, we made a BIG art move with big brushes this past April. We painted a mural, but not just any mural…our first indoor mural! A mural that allowed us to try a technique we’d been brainstorming for a while.

The Imagineer / March 18, 2024 by Tyler Voorhees

When I say the word “Disney”, what feeling does it elicit in you? some are awash in nostalgia as they remember the first time they saw Cinderella get her prince or Snow White defeat her evil stepmother. Others immediately think of Disney theme parks and are typically in one of three camps:

I can’t wait to go back again this year. Last year was SO MUCH FUN! And they year the before that!
I wish I could take the kids, but it’s approximately a million dollars to go.
NEVER AGAIN.

ONWARD! 2023 Wrap Up / January 9, 2024 by Tyler Voorhees

Another productive year! Last year, I painted 64 paintings and this year I managed to top my previous best by a couple. I continued to refine The Jobs of Yesteryear by using more reference photos when they were available. The end result of this practice is that my paintings have more life in them. Less cartoony, more realism. Overall sentiment about my work over this past year: forging my way forward on this painterly path of progress. Way to paint, me!

A Month of Murals: Part 3 of 3 (Bevern aan den IJzer, Belgium) / November 1, 2023 by Tyler Voorhees

Onto Belgium for a much more rustic experience. After landing in Paris and spending a few days there getting over our jetlag and finding our way to the top of the Eiffel Tower, we made the trip to Bevern aan den IJzer (good luck with that one), a rural farming town within walking distance to the France/Belgium border (we know because we walked to France one evening). Our host, Hendrik, picked us up in his girlfriend’s olive green 1980 Volkswagen Golf and we whizzed through the quaint Belgian countryside as he told us all about the history of the area. We arrived at the brewery and started to settle in.

A Month of Murals: Part 2 of 3 (The Bloomington Ferry: Bloomington, MN) / October 5, 2023 by Tyler Voorhees

The Bloomington Ferry mural went really well. We were working on a construction site and had to get used to painting with hard hats, orange vests, and safety harnesses on. We were also surrounded by tradesmen of all sorts doing their parts on the building and it was fun being one of the crew, albeit the oddball artists.

A Month of Murals: Part 1 of 3 / September 4, 2023 by Tyler Voorhees

“This is crazy,” Ashley said. “Right?”

“Yeah, it’s tight but doable. Nothing can go wrong but I think it can be done.”

We were staring at our August calendar trying to envision painting two very different murals in two very distant locations within the span of three weeks. One in Minnesota; the other across the Atlantic in rural Belgium.

“Yeah, that’s crazy, “ I conceded. “But we do crazy stuff sometimes.”