By Ron Evans
This week we lost an important and beloved figure for the local arts and for our community as a whole. Renowned abstract painter, champion for the arts and a mentor to countless aspiring painters - Robert Wilson has passed away.
The news made its way around town via social media and the reactions were the same across the board. Shock and an immediate sense of loss for the community and the individuals whose lives were impacted by being fortunate enough to know Robert personally.
Robert was an early and enthusiastic supporter of RadarStation which helped give it some high class cred at a time when few people understood what we were trying to do. “There’s no room for snobbery in art.” Robert once said as I chatted with him about the often snooty nature of certain aspects of the fine art world in an interview for The Comet. Robert, in his gentle and kind way, was an amazing liaison for connecting people with their inner creatives and with a poetic yet approachable nature, he’d share his wisdom and advice with anyone that would ask. “If you want to be a good writer you should read a lot. If you want to be a painter you should look at a lot of art. If you want to paint a cat, then paint a cat. But there has to be a sense of authenticity to it. If you are seeing the personality of the artist, you are seeing a good painting.”
Here’s a short and inspirational video I took of Robert at work in his studio in 2017. Always full of great words of wisdom.
The loss of Robert will be felt for a long time. But his words, his art and his friendship will endure forever. Make some art and raise a glass to a true one of a kind. Godspeed Robert. You are loved and missed.
Some of Robert’s peers and friends offered their words and sentiments below. Please add yours in the comment area. Even if you didn’t know the man personally, odds are you were impacted through his art.
From Kmbris Bond ~ A few years ago I walked into RadarStation and listened to an interview Ron Evans was hosting, to a packed house, with guest Robert Wilson in a wingback chair and his iconic black beret. It was an eclectic group of all ages and I was thrilled to see that Wenatchee had a space for this interaction and learning from a clearly wise, humble and artistic man in our community.
Over the last few years I have been truly honored to get to know Robert and be mentored and supported by his wisdom and generous spirit. I remember asking him early on what his approach was to art and his answer, soft and with a sparkle in his eye and eyebrow raised was with method, but also a freedom that opened emotion to be expressed in his abstract art. The pieces would have purpose and support one another, the color was placed along bold definitive brushstrokes that extended right off the edge of the canvas that he saw long before in his mind's eye. I was becoming friends with a clever, wise, artist that saw and felt dimensions that not everyone did.
This last year I've been lucky to have more interactions with Robert while hanging my shows at Pybus Market. He treated me, a newer artist, with utmost respect and instilled confidence and legitimacy in my art. I will forever love him for that care and generous encouragement. I recall once he had me take a second photo of us with him not smiling, so it would appear more professional and astute, and I laughed but took the photo. I will always remember him smiling a toothy grin, at the ready to share an affirming word of wisdom in a soft voice supporting me to do my art. My heart is broken and we know we loved when the pain is poignant.
Thank you Robert for your generosity of time and care to mentor me in life and art. I made a glorious friend and I trust your free spirit will be painting bold, thoughtful and colorful brushstrokes forever. I'm watching for them.
From Jan Cook Mack ~ Robert, why did you leave us so soon? Whenever I saw you, you were delighted to see me. I always felt like I had made your day, just by meeting your gaze. And others, too, brought you into an explosion of smiles. Your paintings drew me into a new experience, each one unique and fully explored. We are missing you.
From Dan McConnell ~ I'm stunned. A great artist, art promoter, teacher and good friend. I was lucky enough to be at Graves Gallery when he gave a talk about his work and gave a demonstration of his process. He was a commanding presence but with gentleness and compassion and attention to the person he was talking to, helping or listening to. He was simply a joy to be around. I went to his studio a few times and nudged and hinted that the adjoining studio might be a good place for me to create, but that didn't happen. I'd call him when I worked at 2 Rivers Gallery and he'd come down to chat about art and whatever and he'd bring me a tea from Cafe Mela. Just a thoughtful kind creative man - from his Science Fiction and Business books to his hands-on (literally) approach to creating his abstract pieces. He was always on to some new angle, new composition, new color combination. I was pleased to see the transformation of his art from dark canvases, investigating black spaces and shapes on to his current use of bright colors and lots of white....what a personal transformation of his art in a few short years.....oh yeah and he did wonderful sculptural pieces as well. I'll be missing our chats over a cup of tea and his insightful observations into my work....always positive and uplifting.
From Lindsay Breidenthal ~ Robert and I shared studio space for the last six months and I am so grateful I got to know this wonderful human being. Conversations with Robert were rarely surface-level, when he’d ask, ‘How’s things?’, he actually wanted to know. This quiet gentleman was so attentive and focused you felt the exchange was always very valuable. I think when someone shows this type of consideration and curiosity for the person in front of him, it is evidence of a great love for people.
Robert had a special reverence for children and their energetic approach to anything creative. I think he allowed the child in himself to keep his mind open and his heart soft. At one point, my eight year old, Fin, made a huge painting in the studio with big, black, drippy, bold strokes inspired by Robert’s work. The next day there was a note on the painting, “Fin, I LOVE IT!”-big medicine for a kid!
Robert Wilson was in the studio nearly every day right up until he couldn’t be. I was looking around the studio after hearing the news and noticed a tub of enamel paint was still squishy, there was water in the kettle, and his work shoes were beside his chair. There was also a blank canvas on his easel, ready for anything, like an open-ended question.