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Young Creek near the park service wilderness headquarters at May Creek.

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It was a beautiful evening on my first day as Artist-in-Residence stationed at May Creek, the clouds cleared and the long low light of the Alaska summer lit the mountains to the east.  Alone with my camera I hiked the trail to Young Creek, the water was swift and full from the recent rains.  A very strange bridge allowed foot access to the opposite shore, it was a classic “Rube Goldberg” style of construction.  Rising water had washed out access at both ends and required careful navigation over makeshift ladders and boards to cross.  My only shoes, tennis shoes, were immediately soaked as I tried to reach the bridge.  Lots of debris and driftwood jammed the pilings, it was quite a sight.

As the clouds cleared I found some beautiful landscapes to photograph, and enjoyed the solitude of nature.  I discovered good views of Sourdough Peak, Nikolai Butte, Chittistone mountains, and the Nizina River from my hike along the river bank.  Later I slogged back to the tent cabin for the night in my cold, wet tennis shoes wondering what adventure awaited tomorrow.

The next morning I rose early, the employees made pancakes and prepared for the day.  I was invited to join a survey crew working at the historic site of the Green Butte mine.  A helicopter would make several trips transporting people and equipment to different locations this day, I was told to get my gear and wait at the airstrip for available space.  During my wait I had the chance to explore the area around the gravel air strip.  Of particular interest were a cluster of small buildings affectionately named the “Silver Hilton” where an elderly gentleman, Jake, lived who served as a national park volunteer.  Jake had great knowledge of the area, living in the region since the early 1940’s, and was a valuable resource to the newly established park personnel.

The “Silver Hilton” at May Creek airstrip, Alaska 1989.

Jake’s home shined like silver, thus the name, the exterior walls were sided with flattened fuel cans and whatever scrap metal could be found.  It was a sturdy, functional abode and all that Jake needed.  Overhead I heard the familiar whup, whup, whup of an approaching helicopter and quickly returned to my backpack to wait for my flight to Green Butte…..

More tomorrow,

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska wilderness artist

The Wrangell-St. Elias National Park was established in 1980 while we were living in the region.  It is the nation’s largest park covering over 13 million acres, most of it is wilderness.  The park is accessible only by two rough gravel roads, most areas are reached by small aircraft that can land on gravel, or by helicopter.  I was pleased and proud to be appointed the first Artist-in-Residence in 1989, and began a series of adventures exploring the park, keeping journals, sketching, and taking photographs.  My tenure gave me access to park service transportation on a space available basis, I kept a back pack ready and often traveled on a moments notice.  Sometimes I was dropped off in a location not knowing when I would return.  This was one of the most important times in my life for the development of my career as an artist and molded me into the painter of wilderness Alaska that I am today.

I was called and instructed to meet at Gulkana airport at 8:30AM on June 22, 1989, to fly in the park service Cessna 180 to the national park wilderness headquarters at May Creek.  Crews were stationed there staying in tent cabins, the main house served as an office and kitchen.  The maintenance department was flying out to check a communication station that wasn’t operating, and I could tag along and stay in one of the tents if I wanted.  There was a strong possibility that I could find space on the helicopter assigned to move crews in and out of May Creek to different locations each day.  Some were working on an old mine site east of the Kennicott Copper mine called the Green Butte, and others were on Bonanza Ridge.  I leaped at the opportunity.

It was a rainy, drizzly day and I was deeply disappointed that most of the Wrangell mountain range was obscured by low clouds.  As the airplane set up to land on the long gravel airstrip the cluster of white tent cabins and the main house at May Creek stood out in a sea of green vegetation.

The airplane was met by a park ranger riding an ATV towing a small trailer, we loaded our gear and climbed in the trailer for the bumpy mile ride to the headquarters.  As soon as I reached the cabin it started to rain.  About 12 small wooden platforms with tent tops surround the cabin, I had one tent to myself.  Each tent contains two cots, that is all.  We supplied our own sleeping bags and food.  Water is hauled in from the creek to a storage container in the roof of the main cabin.  An outhouse served as the privy.  It is a very comfortable set-up.  The crews get along well together and pitch in to share the work of cooking and housekeeping.

Because of the short notice I am often not as prepared for what I might encounter on some of these trips as I should be, this time I realized I forgot my hiking boots and had only tennis shoes.  That evening the clouds cleared and I decided to take a hike exploring the narrow gravel road that led to Young Creek, west of the headquarters…..

More tomorrow,

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

A gorgeous sunny day marked a hike with the art students at the Palmer Arts Council Summer Arts Program for a day of sketching in the field.  An energetic group of budding artists followed me up the steep trail to the top of the Palmer Butte.  Clutching sketch books, back packs, and cameras we hiked, climbed, and scrambled over the steep trail finding the beautiful treasures of nature to sketch.

One adorable little boy commented that he didn’t want to be rude, but he was amazed that I could climb that trail.  He’s got a lot to learn about the senior citizens of today   We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day, the usually wind blown summit was calm and clear.

We spent about four hours learning about light and shadow, composing a scene, exploring depth, discerning the shapes of leaves and flowers, and I know I enjoyed the class as much as the students!  Happy painting everyone!

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska painter

My husband and business partner, Bob, celebrated his 71st birthday on a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon with friends and family last Sunday at our studio/residence.

About 75 people were in attendance.  Some drove, others arrived by boat.  One of the things I look forward to at a party like this is the food!

Our friends have got to be some of the best cooks in Alaska!

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

My friends at Wasilla Fence are back in my yard, this time to build a game barrier fence for my vegetable garden.  Last year the moose found my tasty vegetables and wiped out the entire garden in one day just before harvest time.  I had a decision to make, stop gardening or protect it with a fence.  I love gardening, so I’m spending big bucks on a 7′ tall fence.  It changes the look of the yard, but I think I’m going to enjoy the security.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

The annual rite of shoveling wood chips is upon us, for five summers we’ve schlepped wood chips throughout the yard in an effort to keep down the weeds in areas where we’ve planted trees hoping someday we’d grow a forest.  Sometimes it works well, last winter with very little snow cover and 100+ mile per hour winds…..well, you probably can guess the outcome.  We just let the chips fall where they may, so to speak.   A new load arrived this week and we are hoping to spread a cushy 6″ layer to smother the clover this summer.  Meanwhile our neighbors drive by and wave, shaking their heads at all the work we are doing.  It is a better workout than we get in the gym, and keeping us fit.  Through the years the wood will disintegrate and turn into a wonderful mulch.  Some of my little trees have doubled in size, by the time I’m 90 I’ll have my forest

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

The Exxon Valdez grounded in Prince William Sound, Alaska, April 1989,

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After several weeks I was offered an opportunity to hop aboard a helicopter and fly over the disabled tanker, I would not be able to go on board, but I could see what we had all been working on so hard for so long.  After weeks of 14+ hour days with meals served at our desks, it was wonderful to don an orange flight suit, the ones we carefully inventoried each day, and leave the building.  My photos are not good, wrong film, too much motion, dirty window view, but I doesn’t matter.  I was there, I saw, it is a part of history now, a part of our state and what we learned has helped others and made new technology available.

My view out the door of the helicopter while on the deck of the Exxon Valdez, April 1989.

I was only able to work six weeks, when I left efforts were still not producing satisfaction and I knew the crews were in for a very long haul, perhaps years.  History tells the story.  Today the sound is nearly restored, birds, fish and wildlife are abundant again.  Much money has been paid by Exxon to the state of Alaska and to folks who suffered loss.  Not everyone is satisfied, but compared to what is happening right now in the Gulf of Alaska, we should be thankful that things turned out as well as man could manage at the time.  Fault can be found on all sides.  I choose none.  I was an observer, a hard worker, and did my best.  For this I will be forever grateful.  Alaska is still beautiful, the land that I love, the land that I continue to paint.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

The Exxon Valdez grounded in Prince William Sound, Alaska, March 1989.

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With a copier we were in business, soon surplus desks and a few beat up chairs found their way to our offices at the Valdez Airport.  I no longer worked sitting on the floor.  On my desk perched the telephone, I had a map, copier and paper, pens, and ancient typewriter.  My boss had a desk and a phone, and the Exxon chief pilot had a desk and phone.  We were the envy of the airport.  Documents were done in longhand, scribbled notes, crude charts and graphs, but information was flowing, and that was good.  My boss came to me with a request; find a computer.  We need professional documents, charts, and graphs for our briefings and for distribution.  He asked if I knew how to use a computer.

I froze, my stomach churned.  I was an artist, I’d never worked in an office with a computer and in 1989 computers were not common in the bush of Alaska.  The big organizations were using PC’s with programs like Excell, but I only knew how to use my little MacIntosh and a program called Pagemaker.  I told my boss if I could find a Mac I could try to do the job.  Fine, he said, do whatever it takes.  All day I called, following one lead after another.  Finally someone at the University of Alaska, Anchorage, told me that a brand new Mac had been ordered and if it had been delivered we could borrow it until one of our own could be purchased.  He would check.  Good news, they found the computer still in the box and it would be placed on the next flight to Valdez.  In those days many software programs came with the computer.  Thank God.

For days I churned out charts and graphs on that beautiful little Mac.  I sweated out the learning curve on the new version of Pagemaker and Mac Draw and produced some very fine visuals.  My work was slow, I felt way out of my element and over my head, but I was the best they had at the moment and the staff was kind to me.  I missed my home, my art, my family.  We had been working seven days a week, 14+ hours a day for several weeks.  The pressure was enormous on everyone.  We bonded in our mission and worked as a team to resolve problems.  It was an amazing time, a time to grow, learn, push, and produce.  Our office was up and running as well as it could, and we were proud of our effort.

More tomorrow,

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

Exxon crew ready to fly to the Exxon Valdez 1998.

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After the Exxon big wigs arrived from Texas a new sense of order prevailed in our organization.  Many meetings were held and people emerged with specific tasks.  Within a week security was tightened to something I’ve never witnessed before in rural Alaska, by today’s standards it would still seem lax.  Ad hoc “save the birds” facilities were up and going, beach clean-up crews working, Exxon placed laborers in and around the grounded tanker to repair damage and contain the oil, and communication was established in the sound, which was no mean feat in itself.  Communication towers were built and placed strategically so that pilots could radio each other and talk to the control tower at the airport, something that did not exist before.  Our department housed the Exxon Chief Pilot who took command of air operations.

One day I was aware of top, top secret meetings.  Media were crawling everywhere trying to get a better story, all the major US networks and those of many foreign countries were present but did not have access to our area.  The buzz among employees was that the President of Exxon was coming for a visit and it was to be kept secret, he wanted to arrive, do a survey, have a briefing with his top people and leave before anyone knew he was there.  This was planned with good reason, by now the Exxon haters, and crazy fanatics were everywhere.  It was a dicey time.  Not only was the task of finding a way to contain and clean-up the massive oil spill eluding everyone’s best efforts, but now the concern and worry of being accosted or harassed by haters took valuable time away from working on a solution.

Every idea and suggestion was tried.  One day I answered a call from the President of Norway who offered to loan a cold water clean-up vessel and techniques to help.  The whole world was watching, waiting, speculating, and grieving, just as it is today with the hideous debacle in the Gulf of Mexico.  Every available boat was rented for clean-up or transportation, every van was commandeered, all for outrageous prices.  One day early on everything stopped cold.  Barrels and barrels of fuel had been delivered to fueling locations for use in the clean-up, but no one was in charge of returning the empties for refilling. There were no more barrels available in the state.  No planes could fly, no boats, nothing.  All the empty barrels had to be returned to Valdez to refill.  Precious time was lost, people were angry.  Every day we seemed to spend our time putting out fires.  It was likened to the front lines of a war.  We soon grew tired, stressed, tempers flared, fatigue set in, much like battle fatigue…..

More tomorrow,

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

Saturday we attended the opening reception of the new Anchorage VA Outpatient Clinic and did a tour of all of the beautiful Per Cent for Art installed in the building.  It is an impressive collection!  In the upstairs lobby south wing my painting “Grassy Wetlands” graces the wall.

Another painting “Backwater” hangs in the prosthetic waiting room.  With such a beautiful facility and artwork to serve the veterans, Anchorage should be very proud.

Many dignitaries attended the ribbon cutting, among them were Representative Don Young, Senator Mark Begich, and VA Deputy Under Secretary for Health Operations & Management William Schoenhard.  I am proud to have my work represented in this stunning building.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska painter

May 12 and my Bergenia are blooming nicely.  The big leathery leaves look battle worn, lots of brown dead spots from winter, but new leaves should soon emerge.  It always makes me smile to see the first blooms in spring.

The Himalayan Blue Poppies are re-seeding like weeds.  This must be an ideal spot for them to grow.  Within a month the garden should be lush, green and full of flowers.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

The nearly abandoned Valdez Airport grew out-of-control in 1989.

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Meanwhile the news worsened, it began to look like the oil spill could be huge, something no one had ever dealt with in the cold Alaskan waters.  I showed up at the empty airport where more and more people appeared with clipboards, most were looking for telephones.  This was before cell phones.  It was clear we needed telephones and a few desks and chairs…my job was assigned by necessity–to get this place operational.  The tiny co-op, Copper Valley Telephone, was overwhelmed.  Being a local person, I knew people and was able to get the existing phone lines activated on priority.  It still took time, at first we had only one live jack and one phone on the floor in an empty room, my office.  People were lined up to use it.  I started making lists in my sketchbook, we needed note pads, pencils, pens, scotch tape, the needs were endless.  The local stores soon sold out.  Supplies had to be flown in from Anchorage.  Meanwhile we scrounged any way we could.

Our job was to help manage airspace.  It seemed that every private and commerical pilot in Alaska was in the air to see the wreck.  Curious.  The airspace over the tanker became a dangerous place, planes flying low and slow, near misses everywhere.  Soon the FAA set up an office near ours at the airport and worked with our group to develop regulations for the air space in Valdez and over Bligh Reef.  It was wild, like the last frontier.  I spent all my time trying to locate paper clips, finding a way to make copies…we needed to find a copier.  And, there were only a very few sectional aeronautical maps of the area available, we coveted the few we had.  We located a copier and simultaneously had power, we used it to barter with others for supplies.  Do you have maps, we’ll trade for copies.  You want copies, we will trade for chairs.  We began to put an office together this way.  By hook and by crook.  Most of the time I sat on the floor by the copier and telephone, calling, copying, calling, and calling again.

A new issue arose.  We were assigned a telephone number, but no one knew what it was.  At the same time multiple other offices were being set-up all over town demanding the same services.  More numbers, more phone lines, the operators were overwhelmed.  Someone needed to circulate a list of the new agencies with phone numbers.  The city was buried under the immense demands, more and more public arrived by the hour.  Some curious, some seeking jobs, others looking for ways to benefit from the disaster.  I was shocked.

At the same time VECO told all of us we were no longer employed and that EXXON had taken over management of the clean-up and would be bringing in the big guns from Texas.  We were told that EXXON would no doubt keep us, but we were all a bit uneasy for awhile.  If I remember correctly, this was only the third day…..

More tomorrow.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

Photo: Richardson Highway near Thompson Pass 1989, collection of the artist.

Hearing the tragic news of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico resonates tension in my gut, and produces memories of the hysteria and horror on March 24, 1989 when the Exxon Valdez struck Bligh Reef in Prince William Sound, Alaska.  Flashbacks to the early days of the oil clean-up effort in the sound happen whenever I hear about the hard working folks struggling in the Gulf.  My heart goes out to all who are trying to stop that awful debacle.  The event in Alaska is minuscule in comparison to the spill in the Gulf now, even though it is considered one of the largest environmental disasters of our time.  The Exxon Valdez changed many of our lives including mine, my story begins the week before…

Prince William Sound Community College is located in the tiny town of Valdez, Alaska, reached by a two lane road 306 miles from Anchorage climbing over two spectacular mountain ranges and winding through the interior wilderness.  Valdez is very isolated, during that era it was served once a week by the Alaska State Ferry, and a three times a week round trip flight from Anchorage. The college hired me to teach a five day Painting Workshop beginning March 24, 1989.  I arranged housing with good friends and worked diligently the week before to free my busy schedule as a mom, artist, and partner in a small fast food restaurant, rescheduling art commissions, painting for shows, and travel as Artist-in-Residence in the Wangell-St. Elias National Park.

The phone rang early in the morning the day I planned to drive the 2 hour trip from Copper Center to Valdez, it was the very worried voice of the Dean of Instruction.  “There’s been an accident,” he said excitedly, “an oil tanker grounded in the sound and everyone is on alert, no one knows the extent of the damage,” he continued to explain that he felt very few people would show up for class and asked to cancel and reschedule.  He seemed distraught, like he knew more than he could reveal until it was official.  Rumors were rampant in a small town, no need to concern others unnecessarily.

Within a few hours the fear of a big spill was confirmed.  The managing company, VECO, put out word for help, they needed people who could come immediately but, they warned don’t come unless housing was secured.  I hopped a flight with friends from Glennallen to survey the situation and spent a few hours wandering around the almost abandoned, empty Valdez air terminal asking questions.  I soon met a fellow who had been hired by VECO to form a helicopter operations base at the airport.  After a short discussion, with my credentials as a private pilot, I was hired to help as soon as possible.  I flew home and drove down the next day arriving at the home of my friends with enough gear to stay for a week, eager to help.  I stashed my belongings and headed out to the airport as if I were on an urgent mission.  Grim faces and worried looks greeted me, people were milling about without purpose seeking ways to help.  There was absolutely no organization, no plan, nothing.  I stood with my art sketchbook, pencil and pen, ready…..little did I know I would do no artwork, nor leave the building during the 14 hour days, and fall in bed exhausted for more than six weeks!!

More tomorrow,

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

I’m ready to let this painting rest for awhile, it might be finished, it might not.  I’ve been too close to it for too many days to be objective anymore.  This is the point where propping it up inside a studio mat and sitting it on the easel for a few days serves as a chance to digest what might or might not need to be done.  Right now, I think it is finished but I haven’t signed it yet.  When I deem it is done, I will add my signature.  I like the painting, it has a light, lively feel and the colors seem to work together quite well.  “Mc Kinley Trail” 22″ x 30″ acrylic/watercolor on rag paper ©Gail Niebrugge.

Mt. McKinley artist, Gail Niebrugge

After a little touching up to the mid ground I’ve started adding pointillism (many small colorful dots) to develop the moss and grasses in the foreground.  One of the interesting aspects of this part of the Mc Kinley Bar Trail is the orange/red/gold mossy covering on the ground near the water.  Combined with the green grasses, the scene takes on a lively, intense, brilliant appearance.  Painting pointillism at this stage consists of layering many shades and hues of dots, carefully working the area to keep it fresh and spontaneous looking, yet allowing it to take on the true character of the subject.  This is a good beginning, but needs a little more detail.

Gail Niebrugge, Mc Kinley Alaska, artist

I don’t usually go into detail at this stage of the painting, the bottom half remains untouched but for the under painted watercolor wash.  But something tells me that I won’t have a whole lot to do on the bottom half, it has a nice feel already, I’ll just pull it together with some darks, lights and detail.  The top third is essentially finished, the middle third is partially ready, I’ve just got to define some of the green grassy areas on the right and left and some of the earth shapes that break up the water.  I’m really enjoying the light, airy impression of this image.  It strongly brings me back to my hike on the McKinley Bar Trail, in Denali National Park, Alaska, during the summer of 2009, and the joy I felt when the mountain appeared all day long.  The “McKinley Trail” painting is nearing the finish line.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali artist

The sky and distant mountains are not finished, but their values are well enough established that I can move into the middle ground and plant trees.  I’ve defined the light and dark shapes of the middle ground but the foreground grasses have not been touched.  They remain as the original under painting at this stage.  Hmm…..it is taking shape and has a nice feel.  Hope I don’t screw it up.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali artist

I had forgotten how much fun it is to paint over the watercolor wash coated with acrylic gel, using acrylic paint in dots!  I love it and wonder why I quit.  The photo of the early phase of the painting “McKinley Trail” above shows that I’ve begun to fill in the sky using gradation from light to dark, left to right.  I’ve also started to define the shadows on the mountain, leaving the white of the paper for the highlights.  I work flat using my drafting table for watercolor, but to view the composition from a distance on the easel I slip it into one of my ancient “studio mats”, this way I can study it without background distractions.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska painter

April 27, 2010, the view of our lake with about 75′ of open water along the shore.  The ice isn’t stable enough to walk on anymore.

Two days later, April 29, 2010, it looks like 150′ of open water from our shore and some very dark thin areas of ice beyond that.  It won’t be long now.

Early morning, May 3, 2010, the lake is open to the island (the land on the left) from there the ice begins and goes all the way to the distant west shore, the winds blew for two days drifting slushy ice to our dock and cove.  Today is going to be warm.

Afternoon of the same day, May 3, 2010, the first boat attempted to circle the island (land to the left) and powered its’ way through the ice pack.  After that, others followed.  It is a tradition to be the first boat around the island.

Evening of the same day, May 3, 2010, the ice vanished like magic!!  I love watching this event.  Woo hoo!  Summer is just around the corner   I am content, time to drag out the kayaks.

Gail Niebrugge, Alaska artist

This is the part that separates my painting technique from a pure watercolor.  I carefully coat the under painted watercolor with a layer of acrylic gel.  If I use too much water in the gel it will smudge the under paint, it takes just the right amount of gel/water to work.  I don’t mind if it shows brush strokes, so I use it pretty thick.  I’m getting excited to start laying in the acrylic paint on top, its been quite awhile since I’ve painted in this manner.

Gail Niebrugge, artist