Author: punchwpadmin

Words by Jennifer Jory

From an early age, Heidi Lancaster always had a camera in hand—and today, this San Mateo photographer and mother of four is staying true to form. Heidi’s mission to freeze-frame the current styles in interior design and preserve this cultural moment keeps her behind the camera constantly. “The variety of architecture on the Peninsula makes design photography really fun,” she says. “I never know what I am going to shoot until I get there. The home has become so important right now and people are changing things up.”

Heidi looks at the craft of photography with an artistic eye and brings that sensibility to every shoot. “The interior designers in my view are kind of like artists,” she explains. “I am trying to capture their art in a moment of time.” She credits local designers with making rooms feel liveable and interesting by adding distinctive elements. “This is a very sophisticated area and people are wanting that extra touch of wallpaper that no one has seen,” she adds.

Photography: Courtesy of Bridget Lancaster

Although always drawn to photography, Heidi directly traces her vocation back to her children. Forgoing the portrait studios, she dusted off her Canon, propped her kids up on a blanket and began taking her own photos. Heidi’s friends took notice and started asking her to take pictures of their children and shoot their family Christmas cards. Soon, Heidi Lancaster Photography was born. But balancing work and family had her burning the candle at both ends. “I was editing into the wee hours of the night,” she recalls. Eventually, she started shooting a variety of subjects from products to events, and then one day a designer friend asked her to photograph a San Francisco apartment.

“I love design and using my tripod and it just clicked for me,” she remembers. As Heidi’s client roster of interior designers grew through referrals, her photos started gracing the pages of lifestyle and design publications. Popular home furnishing retailers like Serena & Lily and Pottery Barn began featuring Heidi’s images as well.

While she likens interior designers to artists, Heidi also dabbles in creating art with photography. She sells her outdoor art series—beach scenes from Positano to Malibu and a mountain sequence highlighting images of the Sierra—in boutiques and online. She also plans to release a selection of interior design art photography, such as the large unconventional photo of a colorful, modern boutique interior that hangs over her kitchen table. When she asked her family to vote on wall art for the kitchen, they unanimously chose this image. “I can stare at it and find something new every day,” observes Heidi.

When it comes to photographing a home, Heidi identifies three distinguishing elements of design. A room’s color saturation is the first, and she’s not surprised to see more color being added to homes. Next, Heidi points to the layering of patterns in fabric and wallpaper. “When the mix is done well and layered with a piece of art, it really stuns you and you want to take it all in,” she notes. Finally, balance creates a room that is pleasing to the eye, whether it is through repetition of items such as matching chairs or a color that carries through. “It is also important to have a place for the eye to rest in a photo,” she emphasizes.

In terms of design trends, Heidi sees a transition from minimalism to maximalism, a style that promotes “more is more” when it comes to colors, textures and layers. She appreciates both contemporary approaches as well as classic antiques that ground a room. “Mixing styles makes it feel like a home versus a staged house,” she imparts. “Antique furniture is like a coat from decades ago that you can throw on over a modern dress. You can put a modern vase on a desk from the 1800s and update it.”

Heidi emphasizes that homeowners want to put their own personality stamp on their interiors. “One of my clients is scouring the world for unique objects,” relays the photographer. “She is searching for light fixtures and elevated one-of-a-kind pieces. Reusing vintage pieces with a fun history is a sustainable practice showing up in design.” Heidi also underscores that with all of the layering and adding in of maximalism, people are still drawn to the relaxed, clean look in kitchens.

Raised in Marin, Heidi traces the influence of the outdoors as a thread running through her work today. Her father’s love for photography inspired her to pick up his high-end cameras and shoot everything she could. “I had such a passion for it,” she reflects. She took art classes throughout her education and spent time in the darkroom; however, landing a job with a wedding photographer elevated her skills to a new level. “I basically learned the business and ran it, working on lighting and shooting for three years,” she recalls. “The experience was irreplaceable.”

After college, Heidi worked at Citibank in San Francisco, where she met her husband Dave. Reflecting on what tipped her ultimate career choice, she says, “I liked the business world but when push came to shove, photography didn’t seem like work to me.”

Now, with a teenage son, two daughters still in college and one just graduated and embarking on a career in construction and design, Heidi relishes the immersive stimulation she encounters every day. “Someone asked me what my end goal was with my work,” she shares. “There is no end goal—it’s a passion. It’s the excitement of creativity and what comes next.”

Words by Johanna Harlow

To Dan Lythcott-Haims, time is an artist.

After rediscovering photography in his late 40s, Dan began capturing shots of corrosion around scrapyards, forklift and heavy machinery rentals and auto salvage yards. “With the camera, I started to see the art in the world—and what I saw was the textures and colors and patterns and forms of decay,” shares the Palo Alto resident. “It sort of spoke to me as the art that nature and time have created.”

Dan appreciates that when elements interact on the microscopic level, they are capable of creating something exceptional on a larger scale. Rust deserves recognition because something miraculous happens when atoms on a piece of iron combine with water and oxygen to create something… more. “It’s grown into something kind of random and beautiful,” he marvels.

Similar to the transformation of a bronze patina, Dan has also developed with age. One of his big milestones was moving to his first studio at Art Bias (known as The Art Center of Redwood City back then)—because it meant recognizing himself as a professional artist. As the former creative director of Pandora’s design department, Dan’s mind has always been innovative, and yet… “I was always creative; I came from an artistic family, but I didn’t feel like I had whatever artists had,” he reflects about his early insecurities. Moving to a studio also meant invaluable mentorship opportunities. “I think my professionalism increased quite a bit while I was there. I was able to really talk to people about some of the business aspects of being an artist and selling art.”

Dan’s current studio resides at The Alameda Artworks in San Jose, and his work can be found at open studio events, exhibits and online. Previous solo shows include Schultz Cultural Arts Hall, Pacific Art League and the International Art Museum of America. In addition to being held in private collections, his creations grace the walls of local cafes.

It was through exploration at his first studio that Dan began branching out to three-dimensional art. After many photoshoot outings, he’d collected quite the assortment of bric-a-brac ranging from chains and barbed wire to washers and saw blades. “I had to do something with them,” he says. “I couldn’t just leave them. I wanted the work to come off of the flat plane of the photograph. I wanted to display them somehow.”

Soon, he started mounting his rusted gems on maple wood frames, “almost like I was presenting a jeweled object to the world,” describes Dan. “I would take a rusty nail or a rusted piece of metal and make it special by the way I was presenting it.” He allowed his pieces to evolve by intentionally leaving the wood unfinished, the color of the rust transferring to the frames over time. “Everything ages,” he observes.

One man’s trash truly is another man’s treasure—and over the years, Dan has found a gold mine in places like Alan Steel & Supply Co, a Redwood City supplier bountiful with pipes, i-beams, rolls of wire, gears and casters. “You can buy stuff by the pound, which is fun,” he grins.

One project of note is Dan’s Alchemy series. By weaving wire through perforations, he fashioned a kind of metallic textile. As he experimented with different kinds of wires and thicknesses to find the right look, Dan found a therapeutic trial and error element to the project. Old materials were too brittle for assemblage, so he found a copper wire that met his needs, then oxidized it with a vinegar spray, leaving it to soak for different lengths of time to create varied textures and shades of green. “Every piece is unique, even though the chemical reaction is the same,” he notes. “Technically, as my scientist mother-in-law would tell me, it isn’t alchemy, it’s chemistry. But the change that comes over the metals to me is magical.”

The Alchemy series was Dan’s first time using new materials. “I felt a little bit uncomfortable sort of ‘faking’ the rust, but I have met some artists and that’s what they do. They patina metal in different ways with different chemicals. So I realized it’s not fake—it’s just a different process.”

Despite all these assemblage and sculpture projects, Dan still makes time for photography. Like his Collections series, which features objects from flea markets around the Bay Area. “One of the things that I like about repetition—when I take similar or identical objects and repeat them—is that overall, there’s this emergent, organic quality.” He compares it to the ocean. “Every coral reef is unique, even though each polyp is identical.”

One of Dan’s favorite projects to date is a series of cages and keys from 2020—the largest of which holds 400 or so keys and stands at almost human-height. “I love the scale, the scope,” he says with a smile. “And it has some unexpected characteristics. It makes a beautiful noise when it’s bumped, all the little keys tinkling against each other. The visual of all the movement is wonderful and unexpected.”

Many have told Dan that the project has spoken to their feelings of isolation during the shelter-in-place. “Each viewer can find in it what they want to find in it,” he invites. But as for him… “The meaning is in the making,” says the guy who finds wonder in the junkyard.

At the end of Marsh Road in Menlo Park, Bedwell Bayfront Park attracts many after-work walkers and runners as well as a varied assortment of sea birds. It’s also a favorite destination for Menlo Park photographer Jennifer Fraser, who captured this Perfect Shot of the post-sunset blues reflected in the water and sky.

Image by Jennifer Fraser / jenniferfraser.zenfolio.com

Calling all shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at
hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

After experiencing an amazing fog layer during an evening hike at Purisima Creek Redwoods Preserve, Palo Alto photographer Brian Krippendorf clearly didn’t get enough of the breathtaking vistas. “The next morning my cat woke me up early,” he says, “so I decided to go back.” From a ridgeline trail just before 6AM, Brian captured this Perfect Shot of towering coast redwoods peeking through a dense sea of clouds.

Image by Brian Krippendorf / @briankrippendorf

Calling all shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at
hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

Words by Sheri Baer

Visit Redwood City-based SDG Architecture’s website, and a quote from renowned Mexican architect Luis Barragán is the first thing that greets you. It speaks to serenity—making your home a calm, peaceful and untroubled haven.

“It resonated with me,” says SDG founder and principal architect Steve Simpson about the premise originally expressed by Barragán over 40 years ago. “It’s an elusive goal and it’s hard to get enough of any kind of serenity—more so now than ever.”

Although Steve believes that serenity is ultimately an internal pursuit, he embraces the idea that your environment and surroundings can play a role. As he frames it, architecture has the ability to provide a conducive backdrop. He cites his own home as an example. When he leaves the office after a frequently overstimulating day of problem-solving and navigating a maze of zoning ordinances, Steve can feel the tension slipping away as he pulls into Belmont. “When I go home, where I live is serene,” he notes, “and I think one of the biggest luxuries that anybody can have is just the ability to slow down, relax and enjoy life.”

When it comes to designing serenity-inducing settings, Steve relies on basic, centering principles. “In architecture, it’s about balance and flow and connecting the inside with the outside, particularly around here where we have beautiful properties and landscapes,” he says. “A lot of it is just keeping things simple. Often, that’s something that’s overlooked. When you can, just simplify, which is probably true in life too.”

Since SDG’s establishment in 1988, Steve’s firm has completed over 500 residential projects, with about 90% on the Peninsula—including Woodside, Atherton, Los Altos, Los Altos Hills, Menlo Park and Palo Alto. Specializing in new construction, with a smattering of remodels, SDG’s work ranges from estate-sized properties to smaller, suburban sites. For every client, the goal is to strike a balance in terms of design and flow while still optimizing for desired features and function. Understanding a client’s priorities—which includes how they define serenity—guides the design process.

A comfy reading nook. The perfect setting for a piano. A view out of the house to something that makes you reflect. “Sometimes,” Steve says, “it’s just a little surprise that you can add to a house.” As an example, he cites a property in Woodside where he situated a small private garden outside the master bathroom: “You wouldn’t expect it, but we’ve hidden this little almost-Balinese outdoor shower there and that can be just a moment of serenity.”

In the case of a Portola Valley project, an empty-nester couple felt a disconnect in the home where they had raised their children. “They wanted a house that was more in line with the next phase in their life,” Steve explains, “and it wasn’t going to be an older two-story house with the master bedroom on the second floor.” Rather, on their piece of property with expansive views of Windy Hill Open Space Preserve, they envisioned a new one-story house tuned to the outdoors, with an emphasis on energy efficiency and sustainability—and nods to serenity throughout.

“We rearranged the house and now every room opens up to the outside,” Steve relays. “The views of Windy Hill were facing the front, so in this case, which is unusual, we placed the master bedroom in the front.” Clean interiors that offset the client’s vibrant collection of Aboriginal art. A little music room. Italian-crafted kitchen cabinet doors that appear and disappear to hide any counter clutter. “We end up spending a lot of time integrating details into the design—like hardware and window coverings—that you don’t see until you need them.”

SDG partnered with landscape architect Cristin Franklin to transform the property’s thirsty lawns into stunning drought-resistant landscaping and a new pool area that delivers its own transportive experience. “Although it’s just a few steps from the house,” Steve points out, “it has this resort feel to it and becomes its own little destination.”

Steve takes immense pride in each completed project but says he gets the most satisfaction in the construction phase, watching the house take shape. That’s not surprising given his roots. Born in San Francisco, Steve grew up in Fremont in a family of builders—his father was a general contractor with his brother following suit. Although Steve’s studies initially took him in a different direction, he rediscovered his passion for architecture and ultimately opened his own firm.

Steve was living in San Francisco at the time but got some timely advice from a friend on the Peninsula. “He said, ‘Why would you try to set up business in San Francisco?’” Steve recounts. “‘There are tons of architects up there and not a lot of work [at the time], and down here, there’s a lot of work and not a lot of architects.’”

In 1988, Steve launched SDG Architecture in Redwood City, which was followed by his own move to Belmont. More than three decades later, working with a team of six, he’s appreciative of the evolution he’s seeing in Peninsula architectural projects. “The expectations have gotten higher, which drives everybody, so I think the quality across the board has gotten better,” he says.

At the same time, Steve acknowledges that building custom homes has never been an easy process, and recent supply chain issues have only made it harder. Not exactly serenity-inducing conditions for clients. His approach? “It’s a lot about setting reasonable expectations for how long it’s going to take and how much it’s going to cost,” he says. “There’s a lot of balance involved both in the house and how you approach it.”

And while Steve aims to create peaceful havens for all of his clients, he’s also pragmatic about how much he can achieve. “We can provide a backdrop,” he emphasizes, “but ultimately, serenity is kind of like happiness: You have to help yourself to get there.”

Words by Sheryl Nonnenberg

Sandy Ostrau says she did not set out to become an artist. A visit to her Palo Alto studio, where she has been preparing for a solo exhibition at Dolby Chadwick Gallery in San Francisco, would indicate otherwise. Sandy has enjoyed notable success for several decades, with gallery representation and sales of her work to both national and international collectors. But it all started with the humble crayon.

“I was the kid who would go home to color,” she laughs. “And I was good at it!”

Sandy relates that her parents encouraged her artistic bent and, as a result, “I was always making art.” As a child she took classes at the Palo Alto Cultural Center but when it came time for the Palo Alto High School grad to declare a major at UC Santa Barbara, she opted for art history. During her undergraduate days she took numerous figure drawing classes (“just because I liked to draw”) but steered clear of the painting studio.

Fast-forward to adulthood, marriage and children and Sandy was still doing art projects: “I painted furniture and textiles and, for a while, had a business selling silk-screen and hand-painted clothing to retailers like Nordstrom.” The business did well, but when she was ready to really expand, she decided to redirect her focus.

Throughout this time, Sandy took oil painting classes at both the Cultural Center and the Pacific Art League, where she had the good fortune to study under Jim Smyth and Brigitte Curt. “They were beautiful artists, great teachers and an exceptional find for a local art center,” Sandy says. She credits their teaching as providing the basis for her work with the figure and landscape, especially working in plein air.

“I really loved outdoor painting. You learn so much about how to distill a scene and it’s a great way to learn aspects of art making, especially materials management and how to mix colors.”

Sandy continued her studies with Smyth and Curt, even as she began to show her work in small group shows both here and in the Sea Ranch area, where her family has a second home. But she feels her evolution as an artist really took a turning point when she began to participate in Open Studios, which she did for seven years. It’s something that she strongly recommends to every artist. “Open Studios is a great way to get work out there and it’s a learning curve,” she says. While opening one’s home to a stream of strangers may not be everyone’s cup of tea, Sandy found it worthwhile. “I did really well and sold a lot of paintings,” she shares. “I have a great group of friends who were clients first.”

Although those early plein air landscapes found an eager market, Sandy was ready to evolve in her style and technique. She has always admired the work of Bay Area Figurative Movement painters (David Park, Nathan Oliveira, Paul Wonner and Richard Diebenkorn) who bucked the prevailing trend of Abstract Expressionism in order to return to the figure and representational art. Using a limited range of colors, brushes and palette knives, and a wet-on-wet painting technique, Sandy focused her efforts on work that integrated the figure into the landscape, but not in a literal way. “I am interested in getting to the essence in landscape and figure,” she explains.

Looking at the paintings that she has prepared for the Dolby Chadwick show, it is clear that the Bay Area figurative painters have been a major influence for Sandy. Does she mind if people see that reference? “Not at all,” she says. “All of those artists integrated the figure into the landscape in a way that is expressionistic, gestural but representational. They did it masterfully.”

In Sandy’s paintings, which are often large in scale and very textural, thanks to layers and layers of paint that have been added and removed, the figure (or figures) is generalized with no specific gender. She explains that she “doesn’t want to give too much information” and they are often placed in a location like a beach or pier, which serves as “a metaphor for the connection of land and sea.” In Simple Pleasures, a figure at the far left of the canvas looks out to sea but instead of a line demarcating the horizon line, there are rectangular blocks of purple, red, yellow and turquoise. It is a good example of one of the questions she asks herself, “How do you integrate a figure into blocks of color?”

And color is certainly a hallmark in Sandy’s approach. She explains that she really likes to examine how color contrasts work, citing the “push-pull” theory of Hans Hoffman. She is not afraid of adding or removing color and credits all those years of working outside for her ability to mix colors successfully, never working “out of the tube.” This is obvious in Fog Rolling Across the Pier, where squares and rectangles of both bright and muted colors are stacked along the horizon line, creating unexpected contrasts and juxtapositions. The three figures are so well integrated you might miss them, if you don’t look closely enough. That would be okay with Sandy, who says she wants people to bring their own references and experiences to the paintings.

Although she works mainly in the studio these days (and never from photographs), Sandy speaks with great fondness for her early days as a plein air painter. One of her favorite locations was Baylands Park, where she was a regular for years. “It has water, trees, horizon, distant hills and beautiful color changes,” she notes. She would paint quickly and the resulting plethora of canvases were stored in pizza boxes. Her son, she recounts laughingly, would exclaim, “Not another swamp painting, Mom!”
In addition to gallery representation, Sandy has also garnered interest in her work via social media, specifically Instagram. Clients as far away as New York City, Italy and Norway have found and purchased her paintings. Pre-pandemic, she also gave private lessons and taught in workshop settings. “Teaching allows you to isolate and define your process,”
she observes.

Sandy is clearly pleased, grateful and maybe a bit surprised at her success. “My original goal was just to pay for my paint supplies,” she adds. And what advice does she give to aspiring artists? “Affiliate with a local art center or school to keep honing skills and have a regular schedule to keep making art. You need to put in the time—miles of paint on canvas!”

Words by Sheryl Nonnenberg

It has been described as a “hidden gem” and an “oasis of calm in the midst of Silicon Valley.” It is The Foster, a 14,000-square-foot former industrial warehouse in Palo Alto that houses the work of just one artist, Tony Foster. But far from being a monographic museum, The Foster has a broader and very timely mission: “to inspire connection to art and the natural world.”
How the museum’s creator and staff have undertaken to achieve this lofty goal is a unique story and one that could only happen on the Peninsula, in the cradle of innovation. It is also a case study in how a nonprofit institution learned to pivot and adapt to the unexpected disruption caused by a worldwide pandemic.

The Foster is the brainchild of Jane Woodward, a lifelong Palo Alto resident and adjunct professor at Stanford University. Jane, a geologist, is also a founder of MAP Energy, an energy investment firm. During a visit to the Natural History Museum at the Smithsonian in the late 1980s, Jane first encountered a Tony Foster watercolor wilderness Journey—John Muir’s High Sierra. This led to her meeting Tony and she began to collect Foster’s artworks. Deciding that each of Foster’s Journeys, a series of artworks based on a wilderness theme, makes a more forceful statement when seen in its entirety, she embarked upon a plan to create a nonprofit museum to hold them intact and share them.

After acquiring Sacred Places: Watercolor Diaries from the American Southwest, Jane began to form The Foster in 2013, and the museum opened its doors to the public in 2016.

CAPTION: The Sacred Places gallery at The Foster in Palo Alto, CA. Photo by Eileen Howard. Courtesy of The Foster

Soon, school groups, senior groups, artists and naturalists were making appointments to visit and enjoy Tony Foster’s depictions of such far-flung places as Mount Everest, Costa Rica, Guyana, the Grand Canyon and the Andes. Educational programming that included lectures, art lessons and tours were in full swing, only to be curtailed by COVID in March of 2020. “Approximately 20,000 visitors came to the museum during the first four years,” notes co-director Anne Baxter. “We were rolling and building, so it was frustrating to have a seizure of all that programming.”

It was also a drastic change for the 75-year-old Tony Foster who, for 40 years, has been traveling the globe in order to create his watercolor diaries. A native of Cornwall, England, Foster started out as an art educator and Pop artist but soon discovered that his love of travel, passion for the environment and skills as a watercolorist could be combined. One of his first expeditions was to follow in the footsteps of Henry David Thoreau by walking and canoeing around the remote parts of New England. Interest in the resulting watercolors inspired him to continue his passion as an artist-explorer, and soon Foster had developed a network of fellow travelers, scientists and art collectors who wanted to help and sometimes join along. “Tony is charismatic and gregarious but also humble and kind,” observes Anne. “He has always attracted people who believe in him and support him.”

Fellow adventurers, whom Foster refers to as “companions,” do everything from arranging for equipment to setting up tents to making food for the group. Some are collectors who want to see and experience the landscapes Foster captures. Others are naturalists who just enjoy the challenge of living in the wild. For Foster, the objective is clear: “I have drawn my inspiration from the sublime beauty of the wilderness.”

Once Foster has found the desired setting, he sets up his work space and paints for hours at a time. Watercolor, because it is quick-drying and very portable, is his medium of choice. He has worked in some of the most adverse conditions—rain, wind, snow and sleet, and has even sketched underwater (he is a longtime scuba diver). Foster often completes his work back in Cornwall but never refers to photographs. Instead, he relies upon his detailed diary entries and the various souvenirs that he might paint, be gifted or gather onsite. These could be leaves, rocks, feathers or pieces of bone. Oftentimes, these small objects will be placed at the bottom of his framed work. They serve as talismans and reminders of the fragile nature of these locations.

Told by a New York City gallerist that his work was unacceptable because it was “just too beautiful,” Foster has embraced his role as chronicler of places that are awe-inspiring and worthy of saving for future generations. A look at the catalog, Exploring Beauty, reveals the extraordinary range of his representational skills. The Atacama Desert in Chile is a study of brown and ochre hues, a rugged landscape devoid of human interaction. In France, Mont Blanc takes center stage, snow-covered and remote, while the foreground is dotted with spring flowers and green hills. Even the frigid landscape of Greenland is lovingly portrayed in pastel hues, while Foster’s diary explains, “worked from 8:00am to 11:30pm, frozen and exhausted.”

CAPTION: Tony Foster with painting in situ at Point Sublime, Grand Canyon. September 30, 2004. Photo by John Frazier. Courtesy of Foster Art & Wilderness Foundation.

“His art is really a story, from the time he tears off the first piece of paper to the final brushstroke,” notes co-director Eileen Howard. She shares that a trip to Green River as part of his next Journey had to be postponed due to the pandemic but that Foster has found inspiration close to home. “He reconnected with beauty in his own backyard,” she says, “creating a series of Lockdown Diaries.” Another earlier project, entitled A Year in the Life of a Cornish Hedge, captures the seasonal changes of a spot he passes by each day.

The Foster staff has kept busy since the museum’s closure. Anne explains that Jane suggested pivoting to online programming, continuing many of their art lessons and lectures. “Tony was resistant to Zoom at first,” she recalls, but soon he was participating in a series of interviews (“Conversations with Tony Foster”) that can be seen on the museum’s website. In addition, Eileen shares that the museum is overseeing a Journey Exhibition Archival Project, in which every aspect of Tony’s 17 Journeys is being documented. They work from the art and artifacts collected during each trip, interviews, maps and Tony’s diary notes. Consultation with Tony allows them to record the ‘where, how, who and why,’ along with the effects of each one. Says Anne, “People love Tony and we also share his mission of protecting wilderness areas. That is the bigger mission.”

The museum is currently accessible by appointment, and The Foster staff is in the process of planning how to more broadly reopen the museum to the public and to ramp up its programming. They are also open to renting the facility to organizations aligned with their environmental mission. But first, the public needs to find their way to this industrial district in south Palo Alto.

Museum manager Deb Waltimire, who recently joined the staff after a stint at the Disney Family Museum, acknowledges, “We are a hidden gem in a commercial area.” Anne agrees, adding, “So much thought has been given to the experience here, the colors, the lighting, the displays. It’s a lovely, engaging mood.”

The staff has considered other potential sites but ended up feeling that they are right where they belong. “You don’t have to travel the world, but if you want to, come to The Foster,” encourages Eileen.

And what will the long-term future hold for this art museum with a mission? Anne speaks with assurance that The Foster will continue to protect and share Tony Foster’s Journeys and message. “We are really committed to that,” she asserts.

As for Jane, whose passion for the environment and conservation converged with the peripatetic Journeys of a watercolorist from Cornwall to create a truly unique institution? She hopes, “That we become better known as a hidden jewel museum here in Palo Alto—a place of beautiful art and peaceful reflection.”

Words by Johanna Harlow

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a little like Bob Ross?” Yep, Morgan Bricca has heard this line before. More than a shared crop of curls, the commonality between her and the iconic PBS art instructor likely lies in her artistic philosophy that painting should be a joyful act. Comparisons aside, Morgan’s canvases tend to be tens to hundreds of times larger.

As a Los Altos-based muralist, Morgan pours oceans of tropical fish onto bedroom walls and captures cranes mid-flight on restaurant interiors. Besides bringing vibrant murals to homes and businesses, she has completed a number of public art initiatives in the community. Her artwork can also be found at a couple dozen schools, 11 of which are located on the Peninsula. “Murals unlock a space,” Morgan believes.

With a career change as bold as her color palette, Morgan left IT at the age of 26, skipped the fine arts degree entirely and dove right into professional painting. Nearly 600 murals later, her work can be spotted on countless surfaces around the greater Bay Area and beyond, including China, The Azores and Guatemala. Though many of her projects are large-scale undertakings, she’s not above painting pink piggies in a little girl’s room. “I never thought, ‘I’m so above painting fairies in a bathroom,’” she shrugs. “Instead, I was like, ‘Be chained to a desk for a 40-hour week or paint fairies in a bathroom?’”

Unlike many in her field, Morgan prefers brushes to spray cans in order to achieve “that sort of painterly expressiveness.” She has a penchant for designing wildlife and landscape scenes. “Images of nature pull us out of the everyday business of our domestic lives and invite us to slow down,” she explains. “They transcend tribe or personal identity and help us appreciate a broader perspective of life and the place we live.”

Morgan is also fond of designs that defy boundaries with details flowing around corners or spilling off the wall entirely. “Murals aren’t contained, that’s the point, you know?” Her consideration of the space shows in other ways too. “You’re working with how the light is hitting, how people see it when they walk in the room, which way to slant the flower,” she observes. “Where is balance needed?”

When Morgan visits a pristine, white-walled home, she’s already putting a paintbrush to its rooms in her mind’s eye. “If they just put up a painting, it would still be so predictable. But if they had a mural, it would change the whole energy—finish it off in a way,” she notes. “It needs a little bit of chaos in it to make it interesting.”

“A little bit of chaos” is true of Morgan in the best possible way. Approach her on a job site and you’ll find paint splattering her clothes and car, a smudge of purple on her cheek, a streak of orange in her hair. And she likes to bring a touch of spontaneity to her projects when she gets to the detailing work. “I can’t always come up with my best ideas in my studio on my little iPad. The space inspires,” she explains.

Morgan is also an embodiment of the Bob Ross mantra: “We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.” When challenges come her way, she tries to go with the flow. “It’s that attitude that makes life more fun: to just roll with it.” During one school project, Morgan recalls trying to load a gallon of paint into her car—only to spill cheery yellow across the parking lot. After a moment of stunned silence, Morgan hatched a plan. “I extended it out and I made it into a beautiful sun,” she recollects. This unexpected feature became a favorite among the teachers. “They thought it was art—like an add-on,” she chuckles.

With all her murals—be they public or private, commercial or communal—Morgan hopes to heighten the value of the space. “A mural is an identity statement that becomes part of the fabric of the environment,” she shares.

Applying this kind of “space-making” to public art, for example, gives people a greater pride in place (at the same time deterring tagging). “How is this place different from everywhere else that has a Starbucks on the corner and an Old Navy next door and then a Safeway on the other corner?”

Morgan asks. “Sometimes art can be that distinguishing thing. Many times it’s also the natural environment, but then sometimes art plays into that. So it’s giving a place a hook for humans.” Expanding on this, she adds, “I kind of like the thought that somehow mural art gives a space a soul … It’s the jewelry on the perfect black dress.”

Her largest mural to-date is a testament to this. Last summer, Morgan was hired to beautify a 140-foot-long retaining wall on the corner of Midfield and Havana Roads in a San Jose neighborhood. “It was a complete dead zone before,” Morgan notes, describing the area as an unofficial dumping zone. “Trash was piled two-thirds of the way up that wall!” After the mural’s creation, the area became a playful, safe hangout for kids, with drivers slowing down as they turned the corner to look.

When she isn’t up to her elbows in paint, Morgan serves as a resource for budding artists. Her podcast If These Walls Could Talk demystifies successful mural projects and explores the nuts and bolts of the process by interviewing fellow artists, art advocates and public art planners as well as sharing her own observations.

In a similar vein, Morgan published a book called The Mural Artist’s Handbook. Available on Amazon, it acts as an exceedingly practical guide to navigating the muralist profession—everything from how to protect paint from sun damage and finding funding to establishing a fair and competitive price metric with clients and investing time in promotional strategies.

A firm believer that creative careers can also be lucrative ones, Morgan doesn’t buy into the assumption that market-savvy artists are sellouts. “If you believe that what you’re doing is creating really beautiful, dramatic transformations, then helping people find you is a nice thing to do,” Morgan remarks. “I’m excited about what I do and I’m going to share that.” Plus, she’s pretty tired of the starving artist trope. “Who says artists have to be broke? That they have to be tortured? Let’s get some healthy artists going!”

Another piece of advice for young artists? “Start to place your art in the world,” Morgan encourages. “Start making art for people.” Creating in a vacuum limits your perspective, while feedback serves as an invaluable teacher. “It needs to resonate with other people besides you to have wings,” she points out.

As Morgan’s murals continue to sweep across the Peninsula, one never knows what delightful discovery lies around the next bend.

Scavenger Hunt: How many murals can you spot?

+ Adventure under the sea in the California
Avenue pedestrian underpass (Palo Alto)
+ Crack a vault outside San Mateo Lock Works
(San Mateo)
+ Dine on ceviche de pescado beside a fisher boy
in La Viga restaurant (Redwood City)
+ Meet a soccer girl outside Cranberry Scoop
(Los Altos)
+ Travel to China at the Crouching Tiger
Restaurant (Redwood City)
+ Hang with a Yosemite rock climber in Arrillaga
Outdoor Education & Recreation Center
(Stanford University)

Words by Jennifer Jory

Dramatic twig sculptures dance throughout Paul Schick’s backyard workshop where he brings new life to foraged manzanita and redwood branches. To most, the large piles of sticks strewn about the garden might seem like a spring cleaning project, but to Paul they serve as his muse. “Look at this,” he exclaims, picking up a weathered branch. “It’s like a work of art in itself. It’s so sculptural with its various circles. I go nuts!” Paul’s passion for twig art has garnered demand from Hollywood and top designers for decades.

Paul greets me in a canary yellow shirt after work at his part-time job at Pine Cone Lumber. “A coincidence?” I question. He smiles, “Maybe not.” At 60, he enjoys working with his hands and often envisions artistic projects made of wood, while stacking lumber at the seven-acre lumberyard in Sunnyvale. After work, he performs more delicate tasks with his hands, sculpting massive wall compositions: redwood twigs forming waves, manzanita woven into webs. Not only is his raw material affordable, it also creates the ultimate sustainable art. While paints contain plastics and toxins, twig art completely decomposes.

A Los Altos native, Paul grew up spending time in the open spaces of the Peninsula where manzanita and redwood trees thrive. He describes his childhood in Los Altos as laid-back, frequently exploring the outdoors after school at Los Altos High. As a Boy Scout, Paul also enjoyed camping in the coastal forest of the Presidio in San Francisco. “I have so many good memories of going out in nature growing up,” he observes, “and my work is just a continuation of that.”

Paul pursued his artistic interests in Los Angeles, drawing inspiration from talented teachers and students at Otis School of Art and Design, where he earned a degree in illustration and communication design. As for early influences, he cites sculptors Deborah Butterfield, Andy Goldworthy as well as abstract painter and sculptor Charles Arnoldi, whose work can be viewed at the Anderson Collection at Stanford. “Arnoldi was painting twigs and creating twig sculptures,” he shares. “I fell in love with it—it just resonated with me.”

Paul recognized a clear creative path forward. After graduation, he followed his passion for fine art full-time and began crafting twig compositions and sculptures. Soon, he was selling out of a showroom in Los Angeles, and then his work started appearing on television shows such as Will & Grace. One day, Farrah Fawcett saw his work at Rodney Dangerfield’s home and gave him a call. “Farrah wanted a sculpture for Ryan O’Neal,” Paul recounts, “so I made a special one for him.” Paul’s installation sites range from the walls of Wilkes Bashford and Neiman Marcus to a Four Seasons Resort in Arizona. Several of his large sculptures grace restaurants and hotels in Las Vegas, including a 16-foot free-standing column at Wynn Las Vegas and another on display at one of Wolfgang Puck’s restaurants.

The creative process for Paul requires a good cup of coffee and a curated selection of twigs for the piece he envisions. After fumigating the wood with a non-toxic product to remove bugs, he begins sculpting and notching the twigs, tying them together with sturdy string. “I get a lot of manzanita from the Woodside hills,” Paul relays. “I am always looking for white birch, and if I see a dead branch or tree, I leave a note for the owners and sometimes people write back.” Paul also works with driftwood and took on the challenge of sculpting lanterns along with a perfectly-balanced and engineered five-foot driftwood seahorse for the Newport Beach Country Club.

Locally, Emily Joubert in Woodside showcases Paul’s sculptures as well as many of the Bay Clubs throughout the Bay Area and California. His art also decorates the walls at Fremont Hills Country Club in Los Altos and Foothill Tennis and Swim Club in Palo Alto. For one of Paul’s most unique projects, renowned SF designer Ken Fulk commissioned him to help sculpt part of a hobbit kingdom for a $10 million wedding in Big Sur. Paul often works on commission, and his sculpture and wall compositions range in wood colors from red to gray to brown. “It’s also fun to make pieces that aren’t commissioned,” he emphasizes. “Then I have absolute freedom to create whatever size and shape I want.”

As he wrangles and weaves his twig creations, Paul gleans inspiration from many sources including Palo Alto’s Gamble Gardens, architecture and music. He credits his wife Wanda for encouraging his work and lending a hand during installations. But he emphasizes that the twigs themselves are his ultimate muse. “I see the twigs as a creation from God,” he explains. “I fell in love with twigs and their 3D quality and it’s always rewarding when I finish a sculpture.”

Words by Johanna Harlow

Real estate agents Alex and Lily Wang see their fair share of homes. But the atrium at one particular Los Altos Eichler-style house grabbed their attention, inspiring them to buy the property and build their dream house around it.

Today, the remodel’s windows overlook a tranquil Japanese garden from all directions, making it the unmistakable epicenter of the property. Featuring a small stream (an enduring symbol for the flow of life and the passage of time) along with a striking cypress tree, the space appropriately resides at the very heart of this thoughtfully designed family home.

To actualize their vision, the couple turned to Ogawa Fisher Architects, a Palo Alto firm with a knack for California-centric design. “California is meant for indoor-outdoor living, lots of natural light, good flow and circulation within spaces,” notes Hiromi Ogawa, who heads the firm alongside Lynn Fisher.

When Hiromi and Lynn first met with Alex and Lily to discuss the project, a few expectations became clear. Beyond seamless indoor-outdoor integration, the couple desired an eco-friendly, functional design that maximized their space. They also wanted an open layout, which would lend itself to comfortable flow for gatherings. “We really believe in hospitality,” Lily emphasizes, adding that they also requested that the property’s garage be converted into an ADU with the intention of housing extended family. “In our culture and our upbringing, we believe in honoring and taking care of our parents when they’re older,” she shares.

Then there was the Japanese meets mid-century modern aesthetic to consider. “Mid-century modern actually has a history of crossover with Japanese design and an appreciation starting way back from Frank Lloyd Wright,” states Hiromi, who spent time living both in Japan and the U.S. as a child. She explains that many mid-century designers have taken trips to Japan for inspiration or referenced Japanese architecture and design as one of their influences. “So to us, the blend of those two are actually fairly straightforward.”

Two crossover features include big sliding doors as well as an intentional use of natural materials. “We really tried to bring some of these warmer wood elements throughout the house,” Hiromi says. “The wood ceiling actually doubles as a light shelf and even extends beyond where the roofs are so that it can provide this warm glow of light in other spaces as well.”

The indoor-outdoor flow is complemented by the overhang of the eaves themselves. Not only does it frame the views to the outdoors, notes Lynn, but “it also shades the glass from glare and heat and extends the room out into that outer zone.” Hiromi adds, “We strive to carefully compose the rooms, roof overhangs and space layouts to optimize the sun’s best attributes.” Yet one more facet in that house-to-garden transition ties in with the building’s nickname: Engawa House. Engawa refers to open-air walkways or porches found in traditional Japanese houses.

To optimize the view, the atrium can be appreciated not only from the living room, but also from the kitchen and the ADU. Each vantage point allows for a unique experience, Alex explains, mentioning how he and his wife hired a Hakone Gardens docent as their garden consultant. “He talked about looking at gardens from different views,” Alex recalls. “What kind of view do you want from each perspective? So you have three different perspectives—almost like three different gardens in a way.”

In retrospect, Alex and Lily express gratitude at the attentive guidance of the team at Ogawa Fisher Architects. With a barrage of decisions to be made and a budget to consider, remodeling can understandably be a source for tension among couples, Alex points out. But Haromi and Lynn escorted them gracefully through the process. “I don’t want to say marriage counselors, but they’re sherpas,” he describes, systemically guiding them section by section. “It was very well organized, very methodical—and yet at the same time, giving us the space to have our control, our input … our brushstroke on the project. So it was a really good match.”

The Ogawa Fisher team wholeheartedly agrees. “They really put their trust in us to do the right thing, to find the successful solution,” recognizes Hiromi. Lynn chimes in: “The magic happens in a project when those two pieces of expertise—them (the experts in the family) and us (the experts in architecture)—come together with a shared vision.”

Lily brings up another benefit of close collaboration: the chance to learn. “I really think it’s worth the experience and worth the investment,” she shares. “I feel like we’re paying for tuition almost.” As real estate agents, the couple are no strangers to fixing up homes for market, collaborating with handymen and contractors along the way. “But I would say this experience gave Alex and me more tools to serve our clients even better,” she affirms. As the couple dialogued with the team about the “why” behind each decision, they gained insights into design, art and problem-solving. “These people have been through schools, have been through real life experiences building homes, and they’re giving you the gold nuggets,” enthuses Lily, adding that it’s impacted how she regards other structures. “Now I can tell if it’s a custom-built home—whether it’s the texture of the wall or the height of a door.”

Alex and Lily have lived in their home for two years now. Their ADU has already been put to good use with both Alex and Lily’s parents coming for stays. They’ve also accommodated friends who had to evacuate during a fire in the Los Gatos hills. When they aren’t playing host, Alex rolls out a 12 x 12 mat to, as he puts it, “toss people around.” “I’m a big Brazilian jujitsu fanatic,” he grins. The ADU has also served as a home office and a hangout for their three kids. “So it’s a very, very versatile space,” Alex says.

As expected, the couple’s favorite moments involve their magical central garden. “I like the sounds of water flowing in the creek in the atrium,” muses Lily. Ogawa Fisher Architects also included a special spot in the kitchen so she can savor both her morning cup of coffee and the view.

Alex shares Lily’s sentiments and considers gardening a therapeutic ritual after a tiring day. “One of the things I noticed waking up the very first few days that we moved into the house was that I heard birds chirping that I hadn’t heard before,” he recollects. “I actually thought it was a Spotify playlist or something playing in the background. It’s the kind of thing that you don’t really notice until you have it.”

Built in 1871 to safeguard ships on the Pacific, Pescadero’s Pigeon Point Lighthouse is the tallest lighthouse on the West Coast. With the structures at its base converted into Hostelling International vacation rentals, it’s also a popular coastal escape. Photographer Gino De Grandis enjoys capturing the lighthouse in different seasons and times of day and snapped this Perfect Shot in “the magic, mirrored light as dusk fell.”

Image by Gino De Grandis / luiphotography.com

Calling all shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at
hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

Words by Sheri Baer

It’s 10AM on a Wednesday morning, and a brightly-lit 1,000-square-foot space tucked on Magnolia Street in Burlingame is buzzing with activity. The soundtrack to this scene is a playlist called “French Cafe,” an instrumental jazzy accordion mix evoking a cozy rendezvous in Paris. After setting up splattered easels on opposing ends of long tables, students squeeze out dollops of thick oil paint—from tubes labeled Burnt Sienna, Cobalt Blue and Cadmium Red—onto clean white palettes.

“I’m starting a new one today,” remarks Burlingame’s Penny Benjamin, who has been coming here for 15 years now. “I want to see how brave you are,” smiles Sheila Gordon, another longtimer from Hillsborough with a decade of classes under her belt. Penny reveals a photo of her daughter in a yoga pose with a serene expression, and Sheila counters with a watering can of colorful blooms on an antique chair. After donning paint-speckled black aprons, they head across the room to select their canvas sizes.

What’s happening here is known as Art Attack! With roots going back nearly 30 years to a Burlingame garage, this art studio has evolved into a beloved creative sanctuary on the Peninsula. At the heart of this impassioned community is Nancy Call Torres, who partners with her daughter, Audrey McInnis, and a small team of fellow art instructors to share their expertise and insights. “I really feel like I am a cheerleader for art,” Nancy enthuses. “I get so excited when I see somebody making progress or just being surprised by what they have done.”

Raised in Millbrae, Nancy remembers herself as a “creative kid” and credits her parents with nurturing her talent—by signing her up for art lessons with Burlingame’s Pat Frey and even encouraging her to major in art. “I really find that I get lost in it,” she says. “If I’m drawing or painting, it’s a place you can mentally just disappear into and get completely absorbed by what you’re doing.”

However, Nancy ultimately discovered that having a passion for art and making a living at it weren’t synonymous propositions. After graduating with a studio art degree from UC Santa Barbara, she got splashed by a harsh reality. “It’s really hard to get a job,” she states. “It was so disappointing to graduate and discover that nobody really wants you with a watercolor and oil painting portfolio.”

An art director suggested that Nancy take some classes in advertising, which led her down a more practical path–doing everything from paste-up work to sales. Painting, to her dismay, became something she occasionally did on the side.

In 1995, marriage and four kids later, Nancy found herself brainstorming for a way to bring extra income into the family. “Phlebotomy!” her daughter Audrey interjects with a laugh, and Nancy giggles at the reference. At the time, a neighbor was learning to draw blood for insurance companies and encouraged Nancy to join her. Knowing that Nancy was better suited to the creative kind of drawing, a friend offered up an alternative. “Why don’t you start a summer art camp for kids?” she suggested.

Forgoing the phlebotomist training, Nancy launched a three-week art program in the family’s Burlingame garage, which “grew and grew and grew until there were 40 kids a week coming to my house for nine weeks of summer.” Audrey, Nancy’s youngest daughter, was six when the “Nancy Call Torres Art Studio” began hosting students. “Basically my entire life, I had every supply I could possibly want at my fingertips and a designated place where I could get messy and create,” Audrey recalls. “It’s impossible not to get hooked on art when it’s that ingrained in your household.”

When a preteen-Audrey decided she was ready to start her own business, Nancy gave her the support she needed to launch an extended care theater camp. “I’m just so grateful for my mom,” Audrey reflects, “because what adult has that response to an 11-year-old to empower them in that way?” At the same time, Nancy continued to expand her own fine art offerings. As parents dropped off their kids, she’d hear wistful parting comments like, “I want a turn!” She responded by adding adult classes, which mapped to her belief that painting can be an outlet for any age.

In 2005, Nancy officially moved the renamed “Art Attack!” studio out of the family’s garage and into a Burlingame brick and mortar. In 2013, when Audrey returned to the Peninsula after college, she realized the career she’d always wanted was right by Nancy’s side. “It just felt extremely natural, kind of like a coming home,” muses Audrey. “That sounds very cheesy, but it’s also kind of literal since it started in my home and it’s with my mom.”

Although Art Attack! teaches other mediums, oil painting is the studio’s forte. “It’s something you don’t get to do everywhere, so I felt like it was a unique thing I could offer,” explains Nancy, who recalls her own journey to working with thick paints and turpentine. “When we learned with Pat Frey, you started with charcoal and pencil and pastels, and then when she deemed that you were ready, you got to do oil painting, so that was always our goal.”

Nancy decided to take a different approach. “It’s a little more like jumping into the deep end,” she chuckles. “It’s like, ‘Okay, here’s 15 minutes of charcoal drawing, and now you’re ready for oils.’”

Instructing students ranging in age from 7 to 87, Art Attack! teaches oil painting techniques while weaving in lessons about composition, design, color, value, perspective and shape. First-timers typically start with an apple. “It’s a simple shape, so it’s not intimidating,” Audrey says. “We talk about drawing what’s in front of you, drawing what you see, not what you think you know.”

A short charcoal study comes next, followed by a color wheel demonstration, which is Audrey’s favorite lesson to impart. “When you can mix a color really quickly, it feels like a super power,” she points out. “And it’s not that complicated—we’re just talking about six colors and how they interact. If you understand that and can hold onto that information, you can mix any color. Period.”

Six-inch-square paintings of an apple. Check! After that, the subject matter is left up to each student. “We don’t make everybody do the same still life,” relays Nancy. “We let the students lead their own journeys because they’re more likely to learn if they’re excited about it. We work with them to find out whatever it is that they want to do, but a version of it that we think they will be successful at and learn from.”

Having students work independently also eliminates any sense of competition or fear of being judged. “We definitely advocate for building each other up,” emphasizes Audrey, who notes that giving teens an inclusive, creative space to find community is especially meaningful.

In the Wednesday morning session, a mixture of reference photos—printed out with optional grids and Lightroom filters—get carefully scrutinized. Burlingame’s Adriana Higuera is painting a striking figure in a bright blue dress. Wielding a brush at the adjacent table, her daughter, Hillsborough’s Andrea Ballard, is interpreting an image of her husband and children fishing in Tahoe.

“We started here about three years ago when we wanted some mother-daughter time,” recounts Adriana. “When my grandson saw my first apple, he said, ‘Nani, why did you paint an orange floating down the river?’” Andrea laughs at the memory. “It’s nice to take a deep breath and do something fun and relaxing,” she adds, before applying a bluish-green wash to her canvas.

One easel over, Burlingame’s Jonathan Visbal mentions that his daughters came to Art Attack! when they were young. He grew up in a family of artists but had never fostered his own talent with intent. “My wife said, ‘You’re always threatening to go back and paint,’ so she got me this class,” he says. For Jonathan, a landscape of Milagra Ridge led to a portrait of his dog at Mavericks followed by a Tahoe sunset. Today, he’s trying to get the wheels right on his motorcycle coming across the Carson Pass on Route 88.

“Painting expands your neuroplasticity because it makes you think in a different way,” he shares. “I get really engrossed in what I’m doing and I look forward to coming here every week.”

As the ambiance of a French cafe lingers in the air, Nancy moves fluidly around the room, offering personalized one-on-one guidance. She pauses to take in the unfolding of a beach scene. “Pop in a shadow and you’ll know that there’s a rock there,” she guides. Seeing Penny struggling to capture her daughter’s expression, she observes, “It’s too smiley, try making it more neutral.” Penny blots with a turpentine towel and reapplies a few brushstrokes. “This is looking so much prettier,” Nancy praises. “You’re really getting to that peaceful feeling.”

Despite oil’s daunting reputation, the flexibility it offers makes it more forgiving. “Oil painting is unlike any other medium because it’s so slow-drying,” Nancy explains. “While they’re here, they can scrape and pull and blend and work with it in a way you don’t get to with acrylic or watercolor.”

Having taught thousands of students since 1995 (and with her own paintings now held in private collections around the world), Nancy is reminded daily that Art Attack! has become a Peninsula institution. “The kids who came to the very first week of summer camp ever are currently sending their children to classes,” she marvels. “They knew how much it meant to them, and now they’re bringing their kids in.”

With three grandchildren and an eye on retirement, Nancy makes a point of cherishing every moment in the studio. “This is like a dream getting to work with your own child, to be able to pass the business on to the next generation,” she reflects, as Audrey’s eyes mist up. And for anyone wavering about taking the artistic plunge? “I always say don’t limit yourself, don’t sell yourself short,” Nancy counsels. “If you have any inkling at all that this is something you might want to do, you should try.”

Words by Jennifer Jory

Seed pods turned art. Chandeliers shaped like tree branches. Reclaimed walnut slab tables. Designer Kimberly Larzelere brings the outdoors inside with seamless style and an artful eye throughout the Peninsula. By incorporating materials such as wood and stone, Kimberly creates an organic feel in her room designs, many of which feature collapsing glass walls that join homes with the backyard. “I love the open floor plan with the interior opening to the exterior,” she notes.

Kimberly’s interest and ease with natural elements comes from a life spent outdoors as an avid cyclist, runner and hiker. “I also grew up living on a ranch with horses,” she adds. “As a kid, I competed in vaulting on horseback near Santa Cruz.” Her time outside has translated into a love for the diversity of materials in nature that she uses in her work.

A longtime local designer, Kimberly began her career as a kitchen and bath expert in Hollywood and then San Francisco, eventually opening a kitchen and bath design studio in Menlo Park. Her clients continually requested her expertise to redecorate their entire homes and soon her full-service studio, KL Interiors in Menlo Park, was born. “I love creating spaces that really function for families as their children grow,” she emphasizes. “People want to live in their houses, not just look at them.”

Two recent modern interior design projects in Los Altos and Palo Alto showcase Kimberly’s clean, classic style with a modern twist. “These projects feature indoor/outdoor elements that create durability,” she explains. “I am always evolving and developing my skill set. The environments I create tend to have calming color palettes with lots of organic materials and some mid-century influence—a recent aesthetic that I really enjoy.”

In Los Altos, Kimberly worked on an extensive remodel with a client seeking a mid-century, casual feel. “We remodeled the home by creating a really unique and durable space that made it functional for the family,” she says.

“We were able to transform the floor plans and existing space into everything the client wanted.” To add continuity between the exterior and interior design, Kimberly used board form panels on the pool waterfall to match the one on the fireplace inside. She also created consistency with matching steel beams on the outside of the house and in the living room, where she included an Eames chair and ottoman to inject mid-century character. And she deployed disappearing glass doors to open the remodeled home completely to the outdoors and pool area. By using a platinum wall-sized slab of stone rather than wall paper in the powder room and adding a concrete sink, she achieved a rustic, yet elegant feel. In the dining room, the light fixture over the table serves as a focal point with organic steel elements that look like tree branches.

In Palo Alto, Kimberly took on the challenge of designing the interior of a large new home from the ground up. To connect exterior elements of the home with the inside, she incorporated mahogany and steel used on the outside of the house and the floating staircase into the kitchen cabinetry and stove hood. “The client loves to cook and bake, making it very important that the countertops are hard-wearing, so we chose quartzite,” she relays. “When the kitchen was done, the owner was so happy that she gave me a cooking class and taught me French baking techniques.” In the living room, Kimberly selected art made from elements in nature such as found resin and poppy pods. In the dining room, a contemporary chandelier spotlights the reclaimed Northern California walnut slab dining table.

One of the quandaries Kimberly faced with the home was hiding a large air return vent directly off the entry. Her solution: camouflaging it as an architectural feature by designing a bench with decorative slats that allowed for air circulation. “A big part of my job is solving problems. I am type A and always on the move, making stuff happen,” she smiles. “I get materials on site and stay on or ahead of schedule—that is my M.O.”

Contrasting Peninsula design today with trends over the past decades, Kimberly sees a dramatic difference. “When we designed years ago, houses were more compartmentalized,” she reflects. “Kitchens were separated and you had formal spaces. Now, the cooks want to be included in the conversation. I go into some of these houses and knock down walls to create inclusive spaces.” As Kimberly sees homeowners ditching the living room for great rooms, she’s also factoring in the inclusion of one or two home offices.

To give back to the community, Kimberly volunteered her design skills to the Lucile Packard Stanford Hospital’s Ronald McDonald House expansion several years ago. She designed the workout room as a haven for families to relieve anxiety. “Working out helps me manage stress,” she says. “I wanted to help others find that same relief.” In her free time, Kimberly dabbles in her own home renovation and recently remodeled a rundown cabin in Arnold. “I took an old, disgusting house and made it into a modern cabin,” she reveals. “I also refurbished a dilapidated house in San Francisco, while trying to keep the character of the home intact.”

Now based in San Francisco with a Peninsula focus, Kimberly’s life outside of work complements her job as she enjoys hunting for new sources at artisans events throughout the Bay Area. Her love for traveling abroad also allows her to find one-of-a-kind treasures that she uses in projects. “My home is filled with art from a trip I took to Cuba,” she shares. “When traveling in Peru, I found pillows at a local market that worked for a recent project. Sometimes, the process is just as fun as the final product.”

Words by Johanna Harlow

Jazz singer Rebecca Dumaine knows a thing or two about finding one’s voice. Over the years, songs and self-discovery have gone hand-in-hand for the Menlo Park vocalist, whisking her along on a memorable and melodious journey.

Music runs deep in Rebecca’s family. “It’s in my bones,” she says, revealing that her dad, Dave Miller, followed in the fingertips of his concert pianist grandmother, tickling the ivories even as a toddler. After long days at the law firm, he would regularly decompress on the Steinway. “I fell asleep listening to him plunking the piano every night,” Rebecca recalls. He also ensured she grew up on a steady diet of Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole and George Shearing.

Even still, singing took a backseat for Rebecca when she left the Peninsula to study drama at Duke University, followed by a theater career in New York. And even though she sometimes sang in musicals… “They never really moved me,” Rebecca reflects. “I thought they were fun, but they didn’t do anything to my soul.” Precise and exacting, musical theater felt too constrictive. “Whereas jazz, you get to take a lot of risks. You can come in a measure late and then kind of make up for that. You can improvise. There’s just something much freer and more expressive about jazz.” She holds a particular fondness for bittersweet bossa nova.

A real eye-opener for Rebecca came when she studied and later taught the Linklater Technique, a method intended to free an actor’s natural voice. It helped her recognize that her forte as a singer didn’t need to be a boisterous vibrato. “I’m not a big Broadway belter. I’m not a Big Voice,” she notes. Instead, Rebecca began embracing a sound equal parts resonant, expressive and sincere—a style similar to Irene Kral’s buttery tones. “You just need to have your voice be the most expressive that it can be,” she finally concluded. “I can just be totally me.”

A pivotal turning point for Rebecca came after she agreed to sing with her dad and his instrumental trio on a gig. The experience felt like a coming home. “Something definitely shifted in me, back to jazz… Something happened in my body,” she recounts. Reflecting on its strong impact on her, she says, “All of these paths—voice training and acting—fed into this new thing around the time I was pregnant, the most visceral, primal experience.”

Upon moving back to the Peninsula, Rebecca began to regularly accompany the Dave Miller Trio. With a singer, the group procured regular restaurant gigs at Redwood City’s Angelicas and Menlo Park’s Bistro Vida. At first, Rebecca admits to playing it safe vocally. “I wanted to get it right… but that’s so boring,” she laughs. As she continued to grow as a performer, she gained confidence in this new environment, learning to engage the audience, experiment with her voice and “trust” the songs. “It’s kind of like immersing yourself in a new language, in a new country,” she describes. “You just have to go and make a lot of mistakes. And then, sooner or later, you’re dreaming in that language.” Numerous gigs and six recorded albums later, she’s certainly hit her stride.

Take scat singing, for instance. Scatting—a vocalist’s manner of spouting nonsense syllables in a way that imitates an instrument—is a joyfully improvisational act. It’s a technique popularized by Louis Armstrong who, after dropping his lyrics mid-song, started experimenting with his voice off the cuff. “It’s a fun, spur-of-the-moment dialogue,” Rebecca shares. “Jazz is very much a conversation—between the instrumentalists as well as the singer.”

On that same note, the father-daughter bond has become an integral part of Rebecca’s sound. “He’s my musical soulmate. We just get each other,” she shares, stating that they need only exchange looks to communicate. “I don’t even know how to describe it,” she muses. “It’s almost like we’re not father and daughter when we’re performing. It’s like he’s my buddy.” She smiles as she shares how they tease each other during gigs: “I’ll be like, ‘Hey, Mozart, too many notes. Chill out when I’m singing—and then you can go do all of your trills when it’s your solo.’ And he can be like, ‘Sure you don’t want me to count us in? Because last time…’ It’s just a blast! I love that level of comfort—that freedom and history.”

Other regular band members include Bill Belasco or Rob Gibson on drums as well as Andrew Higgins or Chuck Bennett on bass. Although Rebecca and her father regularly meet to arrange music, the other musicians tend to forgo practice runs before restaurant gigs. Riffing off each other, Rebecca explains, shows comfortability and trust. “I love being able to just say, ‘Let’s see where this goes today.’ It’s not this very rehearsed thing,’” she states. That said, they invest plenty of preparation before bigger venue shows such as at the former Savanna Jazz in San Carlos or The Sound Room in Oakland.

Beyond the playfulness involved in singing, Rebecca also thrills in the storytelling element, a value carried over from her acting career. “I let the words as well as the melody take me on my own journey,” she expresses. “I try not to force too much of a subtextual undercurrent to it. I try to live within the images that the song is providing me.”
A single word can provoke a number of responses, she asserts. “Even the word ‘clear’ has so many different images that come to my mind. It can be clarity of thought. It can be literally the clarity of color. It can be an openness in your heart.” When Rebecca recorded “On a Clear Day” for her newest album, fires had sent Northern California up in smoke… Needless to say, the lyrics conjured a visceral image.

This fascination with words extends to Rebecca’s work as a dialect coach. “I teach it, I sing it—I’m obsessed with language,” she grins. The vocalist has taught voice, speech and dialects—previously at NYU, SUNY Purchase, Columbia, The Maggie Flanigan Studio and The Actors Studio, and currently at Academy of Art University. She also acts as a dialect and vocal coach, both privately and at several schools (including Menlo Atherton High where her son is a student), and shares that she’s conversant in everything from the polished, clipped tones of the Queen’s English to the nasally twang of a Queens New Yorker.

A caged canary no longer, Rebecca’s musical journey continues as she weaves stories through song and embraces her strengths without reserve.

Words by Johanna Harlow / Cover photo: Courtesy of Erin Ashford

Actor, screenwriter and director Tony Gapastione doesn’t lob softball films out into the world. Whereas major film studios might play it safe with gratuitous action flicks and lightweight rom-coms, this Redwood City creative will always reach for meatier subject matter.

Take his feature-length film, Last Chance Charlene, the tale of a struggling screenwriter/actress who has recently lost her brother. The movie touches on hard-hitting subjects like the grieving process and the aftermath of suicide—but tough topics don’t scare Tony. “I’m passionate about that,” he says.

“Let’s get better at having hard conversations.” The mindset has paid off.
Tony managed to recruit Alley Mills, the well-known Wonder Years actress (and recent widow) as Charlene’s mother. Moreover, the film drew attention from Cinequest, earning it a debut in this year’s lineup.

The movie has also given Bay Area talent numerous opportunities to shine. “The big studios aren’t going to make these smaller films,” observes Tony. And because they prefer to play it safe with their investments… “They’re going to pass over and miss out on newer talent, newer voices.” But Tony is comfortable with risk. After all, pursuing a filmmaking career this far north of Hollywood isn’t for the faint of heart.

Photogrophay: Courtesy of Bravemaker

Perhaps another reason for the independent film’s success resides in how near to heart the storyline hits for its creator. Before screenwriting or directing, Tony concentrated purely on acting—but that changed after his grandmother took her life in 2012. “I was in a tailspin,” he says of the traumatic time. The following year, he dedicated some of the money she’d left him toward attending his first Sundance Film Festival. The experience was life-altering. “I was floored, inspired, weak in the knees,” he recalls. “I came back from Sundance 2013 going, ‘I can make a movie.’” That same year, he shot his first short film.

By 2018, Tony had formed BraveMaker, a nonprofit dedicated to elevating bold stories and underrepresented voices. “We curate and create original films in order to have community dialogues about life’s most meaningful topics,” he explains. With the aim “to ask questions that start good conversations,” he produced a number of memorable short films. Last Chance Charlene is the organization’s first feature-length project, with several more in the works. In July, the movie will also screen at BraveMaker’s annual Film Fest in Redwood City. Initially launched in 2019, this year’s event will feature Alley Mills, Jeffrey Lieber (co-creator of Lost) and Angela Harvey (a staff writer on Teen Wolf).

Beyond its entertainment value, Last Chance Charlene is meant to be a resource. Previously the pastor and creative director at Peninsula Covenant Church (a position he held for 20 years), Tony views filmmaking as another way to nurture souls. “Obviously, this is a different part of my story, but I believe this is my ministry,” Tony shares.

To that end, BraveMaker recruited grief consultants to shed light on the subject of loss and create companion guides for viewers of the film. “One of the things the grief counselor said is, ‘Charlene’s got way more levels of grief than just her brother,’” Tony points out. She’s also grieving relationship strains, the guilt of not being a present parent and rejections of her script. What’s more, the film shows the complex nature of grief with a sister, a wife and a mother all grappling with loss in their own individual ways. “There’s no right way to grieve,” Tony notes. “Charlene even says, ‘I don’t know how to do it.’”

Nowhere is this complexity more present than a scene in which Charlene overreacts to being duped by another character. “This is grief. It’s up, it’s down, she’s crying, she’s hitting her head,” Tony says. “It’s painful and it’s ridiculous all at the same time.” In this raw moment, Charlene’s friend Dino comes alongside her. He sees Charlene sprawled out on her back—and lays his head next to hers in a poignant act of solidarity. “I wrote him as a kind of symbolic brother,” Tony relays.

Photogrophay: Courtesy of Michael Dhanuwidjaja

That support system happened not only on-screen, but behind the camera as well. During filming, Tony recalls wrapping up a multiple-hour shoot—only to discover a glaring continuity error. Overwhelmed by the setback, he left the set to clear his head. “My assistant director Felipe Barandiaran was walking alongside me. And he’s like, ‘Okay, just breathe,’” Tony shares. “He said, ‘Okay. Let me tell you a story. In 1974, when Steven Spielberg was making Jaws, the mechanic shark wasn’t working, and this is what they had to do…’” It brought Tony’s stress levels right down. “We’re going to make it work,” he realized.

In turn, Tony supported his leading lady Allison Ewing as she tackled the emotionally-demanding role of Charlene. “Allison, as an actor, needed to find a way into Charlene,” Tony explains. As she grew in her understanding of the character, she brought depth to her portrayal. “I love watching what an actor does with my words. I like seeing how they take it beyond what I thought,” he shares. “In filmmaking, we often talk about how there’s so many different versions of the movie: the one you write, the one you shoot, the one you edit. There’s also the one that the actors bring to life and seeing how they bring nuance to the character and how they reinterpret lines.”

Photogrophay: Courtesy of Michael Dhanuwidjaja

So what makes it all worth it? Why keep plowing forward despite the challenges of indie filmmaking? Tony considers this, glancing around his studio/office, a love letter to the cinematic artform with decorative reels and film festival photos adorning the walls and a “make cool sh!t” mug flanking the Keurig machine. His bookshelves include The Subversive’s Guide to Independent Filmmaking, Creative Confidence, and The Reel Truth. “Stories change the world,” he replies. “And I think one of the ways they do it is through healing. Stories heal us.”

“I have been immersed in photography since the age of 12 when my grandpa built a darkroom for me in our family basement,” shares Menlo Park’s Jennifer Fraser. The longtime Peninsula resident captured this Perfect Shot just south of Half Moon Bay. “I first visited Martin’s Beach as a teenager,” Jennifer continues. “My favorite time to visit is ‘the golden hour’—sunset—during a minus tide when all the sea flora is open to view.”

Image by Jennifer Fraser / jenniferfraser.zenfolio.com

Calling all shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at
hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.