Randall Berndt's Words & Images
Please join us for the STORIES book launch on January 17
Hey, friends, I’m writing with a personal update this week. This isn’t about photography, but it’s still art-related. Thanks for looking! — AA
Most of you know me from my photo work. Generally, I write about pictures and the people who make them. Occasionally, I program exhibitions and lectures by photographers. My goal has always been to show good work and promote the people who make it. Today, I’m writing about something different but still very much about visual + book culture, which, as you know, is close to my heart. Since many of you are artists, I think you’ll find this interesting.
Long story short: I tried something completely new last fall and organized a show of paintings, drawings, and stories by a Madison-area artist and friend, Randall Berndt. That might be surprising because I spend so much of my time studying and showing documentary-style photography — images born from the real world. What business do I have curating illustrated works of magical realism? I have long appreciated the connection between photography and painting, so it was a natural transition to working with this kind of imagery. Everything is pictures, and seeing through Randall’s eyes showed me new, imaginative worlds.
I met Randall Berndt years ago when I worked at Overture Center for the Arts, Madison’s downtown performing and visual arts center. At the time, he was curating exhibitions at the James Watrous Gallery, a local art space inside the Overture Center. I liked Randall immediately: he was charming and funny, clearly an interesting person, and unusual in all the right ways. Coincidentally, Kristen (my wife) worked with Randall’s wife, Wendy, at the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. The four of us were friendly and had dinner together once, but we were never close “couple friends.” Randall was an acquaintance. Still, I liked him and could tell he was someone I wanted to know better. I had a feeling that if we were the same age and met when we were younger, we’d be friends.
Kristen developed a rich, meaningful relationship with Wendy over the years they worked together. As they grew closer, she would tell me about their conversations, how they bonded over their “creative” husbands, and that Randall and I seemed like kindred spirits. That always made me smile because I admired Randall. We were similar in some ways, despite being decades apart in age. We were both born in rural parts of Wisconsin and came to the university in Madison for college. We even ended up settling in the same neighborhood on Madison's Near East Side.
To my mind, Randall was a genuine artist, making a creative life in Wisconsin. I was struggling with my place in the world in those days, questioning why I hadn’t yet left Wisconsin, something I thought I’d always do when I was a younger person. FlakPhoto was starting to make sense, but I hadn’t yet found my comfort zone. Randall inspired me with his dedication to artmaking. His home studio was amazing, and I aspired to find my way to do something similar with my own creative practice.
Randall is thirty-four years older than I am, and I appreciated seeing how engaged he was with his creativity: always thinking about words and images, constantly painting and drawing, and surrounding himself with books. Whenever we’d cross paths, he was invariably vibrant and energetic. “I want to be that way when I’m his age,” I’d say to myself. Time keeps moving, and I’m getting closer to that age every day.
A few years ago, Wendy died of ALS, which was heartbreaking, especially for Kristen, who admired her so much. Occasionally, we saw Randall around the neighborhood, and when we did, it was good to hear that he was staying busy, making work, and focusing on his art. On a Sunday morning last summer, he and I crossed paths outside our yoga studio, and he mentioned that he was publishing a book of his paintings and drawings. Naturally, my ears perked up. Maybe there was a way we could work together on a show?
One thing led to another, and we decided to organize an exhibition to mark the publication of his book. We spent the fall meeting at his studio, drinking coffee and tea, discussing pictures, looking at books together, and gradually shaping our exhibition ideas. It was a lot of fun, incredibly inspiring, and something I’ll never forget. When people say “the meaning is in the making,” this is what they’re talking about. Creative people have always inspired me, and Randall delivers that in spades.
This has been a rich, rewarding collaboration, and I’m so grateful we chose to do it together. I’m reminded again that life is long and that we never know the creative possibilities in store for us. When I met Randall at the Watrous Gallery all those years ago, I never imagined we’d make something like this together. How cool that it worked out this way.
STORIES: Words & Images opened at the Arts + Literature Laboratory in Madison last weekend. The show dovetails with the publication of Randall’s new book of the same name, a ten-year retrospective of his artwork. The Capital Times interviewed Randall this week. It’s a lovely piece — please read it when you have some time.
We will celebrate Randall’s book launch with a free public program featuring a conversation between Randall and fellow artist and curator Martha Glowacki at the ArtLitLab on Saturday, January 17, 2026, at 3 p.m. Martha and Randall have been creative colleagues for decades, and I’m looking forward to their discussion. I’m delighted that the Wisconsin Book Festival has partnered with us to present this program. Please join us if you can make the time. It will be a memorable afternoon.
I know many of you can’t make it on Saturday, but if you’re near Madison, I hope you’ll find some time to see the show. Randall has a limited digital footprint, and his paintings and drawings are something to behold in person — experiencing art in the real world is essential these days. You can learn more about him and his work on the Abel Contemporary gallery website. Please check him out.
STORIES: Words & Images will be on view in Madison through February 21, 2026. Hopefully, I’ll see some of you on Saturday afternoon. Thanks for looking!
Moving background history.
Your newsletters are a sliver of light in the encroaching darkness.
Beautiful post, as ever. It makes sense to me that you should love both the photographic image and the painted image. There is probably more that unites than differentiates them.