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.
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.
Kristine Henshaw
