A Fruit-And-Produce Guy Who Paints And Gives Freely

It's a funny thing about my friend, Vic Calderon. He does things on impulse. His impulses are generous, not mean, and seem to give him a gee-whiz, Holy Toledo, ain't-it-wonderful bang out of life.

Vic is tall and fit. Many, many years ago he was a star basketball player at Garfield High. Vic laughs a lot, and when you are with him his good nature washes over you like a cool, forgiving rain after a hot spell.

Vic is an artist. He does abstract paintings that draw people with money in their pockets.

Everything Vic does seems easy. Back in 1969 his daughter, Robin, was taking art seriously. She had a sort of studio in her bedroom. When she departed for the Slade School in London she left behind some canvas, brushes and enough paint to dress up the Kingdome.

"I should try this," Vic said to himself, picking up a brush.

He began splashing colors around and pretty soon he had 20 abstract paintings. His wife and housekeeper were his critics. They said things like, "Not bad," or "It's terrible," or "Better keep that one."

Anyway, Vic entered his paintings in the Mercer Island Art Show. Mostly as a joke he priced his stuff at $300 or $400.

He sold 12 of his 20 paintings.

He painted some more. Then one day he bought an expensive Kenneth Callahan painting for himself.

The late Curt Green, Callahan's agent, delivered Vic's new painting. Green was a keen judge of good art. He offered to buy a couple of Vic's abstracts.

"I would like you to meet Ken Callahan," Green said. Vic said, "Sure, maybe I could take some lessons from him."

Green almost exploded. "Don't you take lessons from anyone!" he said. "Don't let anyone influence your work. You're a natural!"

So Vic sold 21 paintings at the J.C.C. Gallery. In three shows at the Buddlow Gallery in Bellevue he sold 21 paintings. By word of mouth he sold even more paintings in the $300 to $500 range.

He never had a one-man show because people kept buying him out. When they would say, "How much?" Vic would say, "That one's $500. Make out the check to charity."

Wha . . . ? Who was this guy, this antithesis of the starving artist, who could be so cavalier about money?

As it happens, you see, Vic is a fruit-and-produce guy. He had warehouses down on Airport Way South. Through years of hard work he got rich selling wholesale groceries.

So he would spend his mornings pushing rutabagas and radishes, then he'd go home in the afternoons and paint. By now, he had built a studio atop his Mercer Island home.

By diligent painting (splashy colors, warmth, personality) he got ahead of the market, about 40 paintings ahead. And like everything else he's done in life, Vic Calderon had another impulse.

So he called up Canlis' and said, "I want to hire your whole place on a Sunday."

What came out of this, one recent Sunday, was an art show. Vic charged his well-heeled friends $50 to get in. They would be privileged to buy paintings.

They could eat and drink and have fun - and buy paintings at stiff prices. One stipulation: "Give the money for a painting to your favorite charity."

Well, checkbooks flashed, wallets came out, and the next thing you knew the crowd had bought 57 paintings. The stuff - abstracts, acrylic and oil on canvas or Japanese rice paper - sold like fresh peaches out of a warehouse down on Airport Way.

No fewer than 22 charities benefited. There were the "establishment" charities, like Children's Orthopedic Hospital and the Red Cross, but also places like Orion House, churches and temples, the Pike Place Food Bank and Senior Center, even the Wild Animal Clinic.

In all, the art show raised $62,000. Everything sold out.

But don't ask Vic Calderon about it. He's probably forgotten as he goes on to his next impulse.

Emmett Watson's column appears Sunday and Thursday in the Northwest section of The Times.