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Artist Christine Joy Swanson has built a career capturing beauty on canvas – and now she’s bringing it to the page, pursuing her calling to inspire joy and healing in others By Victoria Payne

Inside a yellow cottage in Newberg, Oregon, Violet the Vole is writing a letter. Carefully, she slips the paper into a small envelope, along with a packet of wild carrot seeds, a clipping from the Critter Chronicles and a snail sticker. The goodies are destined for fans curious about her new house. Somewhere between the closing of the mailbox and the donning of her painter’s apron, Violet transforms back into Christine – full-time artist and, most recently, the author of The Yellow Cottage: A Critter’s Tale.

For over a decade, professional plein air painter Christine Joy Swanson has been living her dream life, one that once felt impossible. She started college planning to become a social worker, but after two years identified a problem: She was too sensitive for the career. “I cried all the time,” she remembers. She considered giving up college altogether. “I was either going to drop out or look into art because that’s what I’d always been good at.”

At a crossroads, she visited ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ Fox. “By what feels to me like a miracle, I was connected with Mark Terry, who was the head of the art department at the time,” she recalls. “He had me come in and bring some paintings.”

Terry’s reaction offered more than encouragement – he gave her belief. “I went from ‘I don’t know what I’m doing with my life’ to hearing someone say, ‘Your art is good enough and you could do this as a job,’” Swanson says. After her first week of classes, she drove home and cried, but this time it was happy tears. She was going to be an artist.

Since graduating with a BFA in fine arts in 2014, Swanson has studied under award-winning painter Jennifer Diehl and trained at the Scottsdale Artists’ School. Her work was recently part of the “Women of the West” exhibition at the Dana Gallery in Missoula, Montana. Art has taken her all over the world, as she’s painted her way across Europe, Israel, Nicaragua and Haiti. But it’s Newberg – and the yellow cottage that inspired her book – that she calls home.

Newberg is not just where Swanson paints – it’s also a great place to see her work. This October, she will be the featured artist at ART Elements Gallery. Her sought-after commissions hang in places like the Allison Inn & Spa and on the top floor of Providence Medical Center, where one of her landscapes brings calm to cancer patients undergoing treatment. The large-scale painting, called “Radiance,” depicts a scene with light streaming through trees. “It’s kind of an obsession of mine,” Swanson says, “that light coming through.”

Art as Medicine

Swanson discovered art’s therapeutic capabilities at an early age. Growing up, she spent countless hours away from school due to a chronic illness. She credits her grandmother Norma, herself an accomplished painter, for teaching her to find beauty amidst hardship. “She was the sunshine of my life,” Swanson says. “She would sit me on her lap with this huge painting going and let me paint on it.”

Swanson’s new book, The Yellow Cottage, features scenes taken directly from her home, like this cat painting by the fireplace.

Art requires persistence, and this too is something Norma taught her. “She taught me everything – how to draw, how to mix colors, how to enjoy it and not give up.” A teacher of painting and optimism, Norma reminded little Christine that attitude is a choice.

“She would rub my feet in the morning, look me in the eyes and say, ‘What are we going to do today? Are we going to sit around and feel sorry for ourselves? Or are we going to choose joy – and make something with what we’ve got?’”

Finding joy in life is what Swanson does as an artist. “En plein air” is a French expression that translates to “in the open air.” To watch Swanson paint is to witness a small miracle. In a few hours, a blank canvas becomes the surrounding landscape – a field of lavender or a Venetian vista. “The way our eye encounters color is so much more complex than a camera lens,” she says. “When we mix our paints to match the colors, we’re actually seeing real life.”

The Calling of a Happy Artist

That ability to see – and talk about what she sees – is something Swanson credits to ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ Fox. “They squeezed it out of me,” she says, recalling professors who always asked, “Why did you do that?” She’s stayed connected with those faculty ever since, joining professor Tim Timmerman and fellow alumni for en plein air outings each summer. She’s also become a financial supporter of the program, donating original paintings to fund art scholarships and the naming of the Mark Terry Ceramics Studio.

“I remember being that student who relied on the generosity of people I didn’t even know to get through school,” she says. “To be able to donate a painting and know that it’s helping another student find their way – that’s the kind of legacy I want to leave.”

“Painting has always been spiritual. God’s the creator. I’m partaking in his beauty by attempting to paint like him, the master. I don’t think I would find much meaning with painting if it wasn’t connected to God.”

Swanson’s joyful student experience has inspired her in another way – to become a teacher. Her classes at the Chehalem Cultural Center are notorious for their noise, which she doesn’t mind one bit. “We’re known for being loud and happy, and I insist it be just that,” she says.

Happiness is one of Swanson’s success metrics. Recently, she was a last-minute addition to a high school career panel, after someone dropped out. One student asked if being an artist was “worth it.” She replied as one would expect of Norma’s granddaughter. “It depends on what you consider success,” she said. “For me, success looks different. I’m not in the arts to get rich. I do it because I love it, and I get to choose my hours. I get to teach. I get to paint. I get to travel.”

But the teenager wasn’t satisfied. “But do you consider yourself a success?” he insisted.

“I’d never been asked that with a mic in front of people, and I thought, ‘Yes, I’m doing what I set out to do, and I love the life it’s provided. God has been good to me.’”

For Swanson, art and faith are seamlessly intertwined. “Painting has always been spiritual,” she says. “God’s the creator. I’m partaking in his beauty by attempting to paint like him, the master. I don’t think I would find much meaning with painting if it wasn’t connected to God.”

The Art of Story

Finding meaning, choosing joy – these were the same instincts that drew Swanson to write The Yellow Cottage. “Writing is something I had always done for fun and never shown anyone. I was too insecure. I just considered myself not allowed to do that,” she says.

But when she and her best friend Sarah Joy Silva moved into the yellow cottage and found they were not the only creatures present, she started writing the animals’ side of the story. She gave the critter tales to Silva as a fun present, who then asked to illustrate it. “This book wanted to happen,” Swanson says. “I told Sarah, ‘If it’s not fun, we’re quitting.’”

A book made by two artists was bound to become what Swanson calls a “beautiful object.” The green linen hardcover and gold lettering feel timeless, and Silva’s hand-painted watercolor illustrations pay homage to the likes of Beatrix Potter and Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows.

The collaborators raised funds for their first printing, buoyed by six donors who preordered 500 copies to give to children at Randall, Doernbecher, and Shriners children’s hospitals. It warms Swanson’s heart knowing sick children will hear the stories of Father Owl, Professor Albert and Violet the Vole, and that she’s extending Norma’s legacy of sprinkling a little sunshine into a darkened room.

Since publishing the book, Swanson has added an additional identity – pen pal. Fans of The Yellow Cottage can join the Critter Club and receive mail and goodies from the book’s characters. Any reader can also write in – and some do. Recently, Violet received a letter from a little girl named Elodie. The letter begins with “Darling Violet,” and asks what it’s like to live inside a pumpkin. It closes with a wish: “I hope your next house doesn’t squish.”

The notes make Swanson, who is already working on a sequel, giddy with delight. Bringing joy to children, laughter to her students, and purpose to her art – yes, Christine Joy Swanson is a success.