Painting to save the land

Sunset, Nov, 1994 by Ben Marks

ARMED ONLY WITH BRUSHES AND CANVAS, SANTA BARBARA'S OAK GROUP FIGHTS TO SAVE OPEN SPACE

Arturo Tello is a radical, a tireless fighter for open pace in and around Santa Barbara, California. He paints. So do Marcia Burtt, Erika Edwards, Richard Schloss, Ray Strong, and 21 other artists who call themselves the Oak Group.

Since 1986, Oak Group artists have been documenting on paper and canvas the precious few remaining open spaces in their backyards. Semiannual exhibitions of their paintings have helped raise public awareness of endangered landscapes--among them Carpinteria Bluffs, Haskell's Beach, Loon Point, and Sedgwick Ranch--as well as funds for the Nature Conservancy and other like-minded organizations to preserve open space. To date, sales of Oak Group paintings have generated more than $100,000 for the cause.

Which is not to say that the group's origins, let alone its current raison d'etre, are entirely political. It all began eight years ago when some friends decided to spend the day at a place called Loon Point, just west of Carpinteria. "It didn't start out as a preservation thing," recalls Marcia Burtt, who paints in acrylics. "That day, we just met because we all wanted to be together. You could bring something to read and share it with the group. It was just a few people getting together to paint--that's all it started out as."

Indeed, for many members of the Oak Group, that's largely what it still is. Landscape painting can be an isolating activity. Communing with your peers is not only an antidote to the isolation, it's also an important way to advance your craft. "I was an independent artist who had never associated with groups before," says Richard Schloss. Much to his surprise, he found he enjoyed painting with other people. "I remember setting up at the Wilcox property [just east of Hendry's Beach], working right next to Marcia. As I was painting, I was looking over her shoulder and watching her paint. It was a real eye-opener."

The day at Loon Point would also prove illuminating in a different way. "John Wilsher," says Burtt, referring to one of the artists who helped organize the outing, "called me up sometime after that and said, 'Marcia, I just heard the most horrible news. They're going to develop that piece of property we were painting. What can we do?' We talked and came up with the idea that maybe we could have an exhibition of the paintings."

Arturo Tello, also at Loon Point that day, quickly mobilized the artists and put together a show (Tello continues to be the group's prime mover and shaker). The idea was to call attention to a beautiful place that, seemingly, was about to be lost. "Painting a place is better than [going to] a public hearing," says Tello, who's done both. "You can have a voice visually and say, 'Wait a minute; look at what you're doing.'"

As it turned out, the proposed development at Loon Point wasn't quite as threatening--or imminent--as the artists bad thought. It would have allowed for public access to the beach (a county-owned access trail accomplishes that purpose today), and after the recession hit, the project stayed safely on the drawing board. In fact, many of the projects slated for the group's favorite endangered landscapes are also in limbo. Others, however, are fully permitted and ready to go when the market heats back up. "I don't think we've really stopped anything," admits painter Erika Edwards, "but we've certainly caused a greater awareness."

Awareness has long motivated Ray Strong, perhaps the group's most famous member. At 89, he's certainly its elder statesman. To the younger artists in the Oak Group, Strong is a spiritual link to the Santa Barbara landscape painters of the '20s, a golden age for the genre. Strong, who's fluent in oils, doesn't mind the association. He's kind of an old-fashioned guy anyway, who talks openly about such old-fashioned notions as craftsmanship, technique, and beauty, concepts that are anathema to many ultratrendy contemporary artists.

Protecting the environment is another of Strong's old-fashioned ideas. While he has always had a painter's love of the outdoors, he traces his more serious environmental awakening to the Santa Barbara oil spill of 1969. Photographs of oil-soaked birds beamed around the world made him realize how powerful an image can be. Now, through shows mounted by the Oak Group, Strong's brooding landscape paintings--themselves spiritual links to nature--are calling attention to the lands he and his colleagues love. "All art is local," says Strong in a witty paraphrase of the late Tip O'Neill's famous quote about politics.

So what are they, then: artists or activists? Both, say the group's members, who aren't shy about wanting to have it both ways. In the end, the Oak Group succeeds because it's about more than just scratching aesthetic and political itches. "We've got to think about future generations," says Edwards. Thanks to the Oak Group, those generations will have an enduring, achingly beautiful record of this part of the California coast--and maybe even a few of the actual places.