As one would expect, Evergreen had many talented artists, musicians, cartoonists, and writers. One of my favorite student artists was a guy named Kevin Wildermuth who attended TESC in the mid-1970s. Kevin considered himself to be a conceptual artist and thirty years later continues to follow his passion. If you know the Seattle gallery scene, I'm sure you have seen his work.

His masterpiece, as far as I am concerned, was the result of some town-gown coordination. Somehow Kevin had managed to talk a nice elderly woman in his Maple Park neighborhood into taking part in this effort. Her name was Rosie.

While Rosie sat in a chair, Kevin was behind an enormous piece of card stock paper propped on an easel. An early version of the videorecorder (probably a U-matic) was documenting this scene, and I believe he had it on a tripod so there was no third person involved. Rosie was seated in a position where she could not see what Kevin what drawing. The artwork was also hidden from the videorecorder. And finally, Kevin himself could not see what he was drawing. He was wearing a big blindfold.

After he finished drawing, the artwork was slipped into a huge envelope. If memory serves, I believe he did this twice, resulting in two envelopes containing artwork no one had seen. Not Rosie, not the camera, not even the artist himself.

The envelopes were then sealed. Rosie and Kevin went to a notary and had a statement verified that the artwork in the envelopes was indeed never seen by a human eye. Then he stamped the words "Certified Unseen" on each envelope. When the envelopes were exhibited in the Library art gallery, the notary statement was also on the wall. Maybe the videotape was there too, because I remember watching it someplace or other.

For a while, Kevin lived at the bottom of Harrison Hill, in a funny little house, now long gone, that would have been at the SW "corner" of today's roundabout. There was traffic light at the bottom of that hill, and if you visited Kevin you were treated to the constant sound of screeching tires. This was during the big CB radio craze, and for some reason any transmissions on a passing CB radio would be broadcast through Kevin's stereo system, which in turn would make Kevin jump and scream obscenities into a CB radio he had rigged up in his living room. Needless to say, this happened frequently whenever I visited him and I came to accept these interruptions as just part of normal conversation with him.