Ingrid Nickelsen first met “Liz’s painting women” in the summer of 2004, when we gathered for a week at a farmhouse on the Mad River to paint the landscape en plein air. There were ten of us that first year, all female, all well past the first bloom of youth, all experienced artists producing diverse work. As I recall, the gathering was a light-hearted protest against the dominance of men in the plein air painting tradition.

It was the week of the summer solstice so the days were long, the light was gorgeous, and our environment provided an endless supply of inspiration. The farmhouse, with its surrounding, exuberant garden, was nestled in a landscape of rolling, golden hills dotted with ancient oaks. The sparkling, icy Mad River, with rocky beaches and multi-colored rowboats, was a short walk down a gravel road.

We worked late into the day before retreating to the farmhouse each evening, where we were provided with ample amenities, including great food and wine, exotic cocktails, and stimulating, often hilarious conversations that centered on the rewards and challenges of working outdoors. 

Ingrid was, by far, the most adventurous plein air painter in our group, and entertained us late into the night with stories of her wilderness treks. She was fearless in nature, backpacking alone to remote landscapes with her easel and an enormous canvas strapped to her back, seeking out the perfect image to capture on her canvas. We all admired her work ethic, her drive to explore places off the beaten track, and her vibrant, expressive paintings.

Our shared love of nature and respect for one another’s work bonded our group of artists and by the end of that first week, Ingrid referred to us as her tribe. We already had plans to turn the solstice gathering into an annual event. 

When we returned the following year, just two months before Ingrid died, our gathering was a joyous reunion of kindred spirits. We worked hard and laughed like children. It was hot that year and we spent our mornings painting with our feet and easels in the river, and our afternoons in the shade of the garden, sipping mojitos.

The conversations around the farmhouse dinner table that second year were often focused on the challenges female artists face when compared to males, including less compensation for our work, less creative opportunity, and less representation in museums, galleries, and auction houses. Ingrid had strong ideas about ways to change that dynamic, believing financial support was the most significant way to empower women and equalize the playing field. She dreamed of somehow joining forces with other women to support our creative work.

When Ingrid wrote her will on the Doctor Rock trail two months later, she put a plan in action that would make that dream a reality. The Ingrid Nickelsen Trust was established after her death and, thanks to the hard work of a rotating board of “Liz’s painting women,” has currently granted 150 awards to women artists, totaling over $350,000. What a remarkable legacy our friend left behind.