From Trail to Easel: How Washington’s Landscapes Shape Erin Oostra’s Bold Art

In the soft light of early morning, when the town of Ellensburg is still quiet and the ridges blush gold with the first sun, Erin Oostra is already climbing. The Manastash Ridge Trail rises sharply out of the valley, switchbacking through sage and stone, and Erin knows every curve, every sound of wind brushing the hills. “There’s something about being up before everyone else,” she says. “Looking down on the valley waking up, watching the plants change season to season, and passing that same gnarled tree I’ve come to love—it’s beautiful, simple, and feels like it’s just for me.”

It’s this relationship with the land—intimate, reverent, constantly renewed—that shapes everything she does. A Pacific Northwest artist, designer, and curator, Erin is known for her bold, dramatic contemporary landscapes that pulse with movement and emotion. Her work feels like Washington itself—wild, unpredictable, and full of quiet power. Mountains rise from fields of color, skies stretch with luminous depth, and brushstrokes mimic the natural energy of the wind. Yet her paintings aren’t just about the view; they’re about the feeling of being there. “Hiking and painting are really the same practice for me,” she says. “They’re both about paying attention—about being present enough to notice what’s changing and what’s eternal.”

Erin hikes often—sometimes every day if she can. One morning it might be a windy scramble up Manastash Ridge, another a misty walk beneath the pines near Snoqualmie, or a quiet trail along the coast where salt and fog blur the horizon. People often ask her for her favorite hike, and she smiles, a little reluctant to pick just one. “Ahhh, they’re all different and amazing for their own reasons,” she says. “It depends on the day, the person, the weather. But if I had to choose, I’d still say Manastash Ridge. It’s home. It’s a hike that teaches you something new every time.”

At the top, where the valley spreads wide and the wind dances through the grasses, Erin often pauses—not to take a photo, but to breathe. “There’s a peace that only comes from being on a trail,” she says. “It reminds you how small you are, but in a comforting way. You realize you belong to something bigger.” That feeling, she explains, is what she tries to capture in her art. “The sublime is the word for it—that mix of awe and beauty that almost overwhelms you. I think that’s what we all go searching for when we hike, even if we don’t have a word for it.”

In art, the concept of the sublime has long been tied to the natural world—the power of a storm, the vastness of a mountain range, the humbling silence of a forest at dusk. Erin’s paintings live in that same space. They don’t just depict landscapes; they evoke them. Her use of light and texture invites viewers to step inside and feel the same breathless wonder she experiences on the trail. “When I’m in the studio, I’m remembering,” she says. “The sound of gravel under my boots, the smell of sage after rain, the way a trail feels when you’re halfway up and starting to see the world from a new perspective. It’s less about the view and more about the emotion of being there.”

Collectors and hikers alike are drawn to her work because it feels both familiar and transcendent—like a memory of a favorite summit, or the moment a clearing fog reveals a hidden lake. It’s art that celebrates what it means to be a nature enthusiast in the Pacific Northwest: to live in awe of wild places and to carry their energy home.

But Erin’s connection to the outdoors doesn’t end with her art. She believes deeply in giving back—to the land, to her community, and to the people who make both thrive. Through her Ellensburg gallery, Nuwave, she supports local nonprofits and community projects, donating portions of her sales, offering her space for gatherings, and volunteering her time and design skills. “Community is like a landscape—it grows stronger when people nurture it,” she says. “Giving back isn’t something extra; it’s part of the rhythm.”

That rhythm shows up everywhere in her life: in her hikes, in her artwork, and in the way she talks about what matters most. “I think if we all spent more time outside—really outside, listening and breathing and letting the quiet work on us—we’d be a lot more at peace,” she says. “Maybe if we fed our souls before anything else, the world would be a better place.”

Her hope is that others might find the same kind of restoration she does on the trail. Hiking, to her, is more than a pastime—it’s a kind of prayer. It’s where ideas form, where gratitude deepens, where life finds perspective again. “Every hike is different, but every hike reminds me to slow down,” she says. “It’s humbling, healing, and so full of joy.”

When she paints, those same lessons find their way into the canvas. Her brushstrokes carry the weight of wind and the hush of dawn. Her colors echo the Cascades in spring and the late summer heat of the valley. Each piece is both a reflection of a place and an invitation to remember how it feels to stand within it.

There are many ways to experience the Pacific Northwest, but Erin Oostra reminds us that the best way might be the simplest one: lace up your boots, step outside, and let the land teach you something. “Washington is endlessly inspiring,” she says. “With so many trails to explore, how can you not hike as often as you can?”