For those not aware, I am en vacanza on the northern Fornicalia coast in Mendocino, having rented a house with an overview of the Mendocino Headlands for 10 days.

We customarily celebrate my wife’s birthday in early January and then our anniversary in February, but our work schedules disallowed this for 2013.  We had to be slaves to work and simply postpone.  Hence our vacation now, instead of much earlier.

My wife and I won’t be leaving for another five days and, in the meantime, I’ve been continuing the blogging.  I would have placed at least two photo posts by this point, but WordPress is unhappy with the large size of my photo files.  I have to figure out how to condense said files and still retain their quality.

That said, I occasioned to step into a very small and easily-dismissed and difficult-to-see gallery today, just outside Ft Bragg, Fornicalia.  I had seen a sign, in passing, indicating something about a “master seascape painter” a number of times on Highway 1.  After stepping inside, I learned about the oil paintings and watercolors of E. John Robinson and the fact that he had passed away in 2008.  There is, unfortunately, nothing in Wikipedia on the man.

First, some examples of his work:

And this quite wonderful piece:

E. John Robinson 1932-2008

As far as I can tell, Mr Robinson was revered not only for the art he produced, but the skill he possessed as an instructor as well.

– EJR on LinkedIn.
– EJR on BookFinder.com.
– EJR on Barnes&Noble.com.

– Seascapes in Watercolour with E. John Robinson.

– Painting Landscapes in Oils with E. John Robinson-EJR-AV

All of this new information makes me wish I’d been cognizant of Mr Robinson before he passed away.

His specific website is here.

When you write things in retrospect, it simply makes you wish you’d met the person originally.

Oddly enough, the people I encountered at the small gallery were not much interested in revealing their names or promoting Mr Robinson, with the exception of a kind man I’d guess to be in his 80s — and who never introduced himself, though I did with both myself and my wife.  I never did learn his name.

The place was psychically askew.  The female in her 40s was predominantly disinterested and I could tell she silently excoriated the man in his 80s for daring to trust us with two DVDs.  She was as cuddly as a Sidewinder and wary as a Hyena.  Except that I came back, an hour later, to purposely pay for the DVDs.  I’d submit she would be better served not in retail but in an arena where minimal human contact existed.

All in all, an odd experience.

But, on the other hand, I learned about a new painter.  Who had, by my time of discovery, passed away due to what some suspected as constant contact of various oil based physicalities.  Perhaps yes, or perhaps no.

I wish I’d been able to meet the man.  I’d wager he was soft and understanding and loving and ebullient and filled with the positivism of his craft.

BZ