Wrap It Up, 2024

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.

The good stuff | Greenville, SC | May

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

The Alamo | April | San Antonio, TX

Rock climbing | San Antonio, TX | April

Rock climbing | San Antonio, TX | April

Ivan turned 11 | April | Home, MI

Baseball bros | May | Home, MI

Michigan summer daze | June | 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

Orin played soccer | October | Home, MI

and Ivan tried football | October | Home, MI

Orin turned 8 | November | Home, MI

Studio remodel | November | Home, MI

in the works | November | Home, MI

Found the perfect fatty tree | December | Home, MI

Matching Peanuts | 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

The Lamplighter Interactive Sculpture

• An old tractor seat worn from decades of use.

• An antique crosscut saw with the teeth still sharp.

• Two wrenches that came with every Ford Model A.

• A massive cast iron wagon wheel.

• A rusty well point.

• A tall cylindrical fire extinguisher from the 1920s.

• An old shovel head.

• Five rusty spark plugs.

• A discarded camshaft.

• An old crowbar.

• A saw used to cut hay centuries ago.

• Half an ice tong.

These are but a dozen of the hundreds of items that you might spot as you explore the intricacies of The Lamplighter. The sculpture is composed entirely out of antiquated tools and manmade wooden remnants. These tools are worn from years of sweat, grit, and manual labor and they are now repurposed as a grand gesture of gratitude to these humble workers, a group that includes the Lamplighter himself.

Six stationary bikes (a hand crank is coming soon!) of various sizes encircle the 12.5’ tall sculpture. People of all ages are invited to saddle up. As they begin to pedal, not only do their faces brighten into smiles, but two lights on the sculpture begin to sputter to life. Each pedaler is generating a flicker of light, and as everyone pedals together, the lights shine brighter. This collective illumination is a joyous experience during the day and absolutely spectacular at night.

The Lamplighter sculpture harks back to the early days when streets of most towns and cities were lit by gas lamps. By means of long poles, ladders, and even tall bikes, these lamps had to be lit each night as dusk turned to darkness. Lamplighters provided not only light but also safety in their communities. More than just a job, these harbingers of light represent a way of life: illuminating darkness. We all carry light within us and The Lamplighter is a reminder to collectively connect and spread that light.

This piece of art represents a higher calling: to shine light into darkness and bring about illumination and ultimately, love. There are endless ways to share your light with the world and it is up to each of us to find that path, go boldly into that unknown and be a beacon with our lamps ablaze!

Photo: Well Droned

The Lamplighter sculpture is one way that Ashley and I strive to answer this calling and illuminate the darkness in the world. It is how we hope to make this world a brighter place for all those we encounter, friends and strangers alike. It represents a way of life and brings great meaning to the work that we are so fortunate to do. Our prayer for you is that you find your inner light, you put the time and effort into getting it glowing white-hot, and you let that sucker shine for all the world to see!

The Lamplighter sculpture is available for temporary installation at festivals and cultural events worldwide and is also available for purchase. If you’d like more information about either of those paths, please contact us through our brand new website: www.thelamplighterart.com. Be sure to follow The Lamplighter Art on Instagram (@thelamplighterart) to see where he shines his light and check out the video below for more action!

The Wandering Easels

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.

Outdoor studio  |  Sobieski, WI

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).

Spare bedroom studio  |  Boulder, CO

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

Ivan's always been my right hand man in the 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

Scamp studio  |  Galveston, TX

Michigan cottage studio  |  Frankfort, MI

Shed studio  |  Laporte, CO

Jordanelle Reservoir studio  |  Park City, UT

Red Feather Lakes bedroom studio  |  Red Feather Lakes, CO

Van Buren State Park studio  |  South Haven, MI

Gallery studio  |  Wichita, KS

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

Different view  |  Glenn, MI

My old trusty friend  |  Glenn, MI

Studio details  |  Glenn, MI

WIndowsill of inspiration  |  Glenn, MI

Work table  |  Glenn, MI

Tools of the trade  |  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...

The Jobs Report 2017

The Jobs of Yesteryear Series have been coursing through my creative veins for nearly seven years. My brother-in-law recently reminisced about seeing an innocuous post-it note with the words "Jobs of Yesteryear" stuck among the myriad of half-baked ideas adorning my desk back in 2010. Since then, I've completed almost 50 paintings depicting obsolete jobs from the past and collected innumerable tidbits of history in the process. This idea, to learn about how the life of the worker has changed throughout modern time and explore the stories I find with my art, has become an integral part of my identity as an artist. The Jobs of Yesteryear allowed me to take the leap of faith and quit my job to pursue this idea full-time. It has fed my family of four and allowed us the freedom to roam this great planet of ours.

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The third Job of Yesteryear I created, The Lector.
48x24 inches  |  acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on canvas

And now, The Jobs of Yesteryear have evolved.

In my research of the history of the worker, I often come across occupations that are historic and intriguing, but that don't quite fit the bill of being an "obsolete" job. For example, firefighting has changed a lot since the Romans organized the first bucket brigade back in 300 BC. The Ancient Egyptians invented the first water pump a century later and this evolution has continued down the halls of history for two millennia, connecting those first Roman bucket slingers to the brave men and women who respond to all sorts of calls these days. It's quite the story.

And up until this year, the history of the firefighter wouldn't fit in with the obsolete Jobs of Yesteryear, since it is a job that still exists. However, I've made the decision that stories like that of the firefighter are too important to not include in my survey of the history of the worker. Thus, I've expanded The Jobs of Yesteryear to now include jobs that aren't necessarily obsolete, but that have a rich history and have changed dramatically throughout time.

One of the very first paintings exploring this new territory is The Firemen, which was commissioned by a lovely family in Michigan with firefighting in their blood. This piece, which includes an uncharacteristic splash of red, is one my favorites and I am excited to announce that I will be offering prints of The Firemen on our 2017 Art Adventure. I will have a whole slate of new prints and original mixed media paintings coming to an art festival near you, starting in Tucson and Tempe the next two weekends. For the full schedule, check out my calendar, which will continue to fill up in the coming months.

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The Firemen  |  36x24 inches  |  acrylic, watercolor paper, kraft paper on stained birch panel

I'm grateful that I've found The Jobs of Yesteryear and I will continue to explore this intriguing subject through my art. If you have any ideas for historic occupations that I haven't painted, give me a shout. And thank you always for supporting for my art. Stay tuned...