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.

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

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