Sketching History in the Willamette Valley: A Visit to Eyrie Vineyards

Original Pinot Noir vine at Eyrie Vineyards

This pioneering vine and its companions were the first in Willamette Valley, and set the stage for all that followed.

A sharp kee-eeeee-arr breaks the silence as I climb up this monumental slope of vines and silver grasses. Circling overhead are a pair of the iconic Red-tailed hawks that inspired the name for this place. I’m in the middle of the original Pinot Noir vines at Eyrie Vineyards in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. These aren’t just old vines—they’re the first Pinot Noir vines ever planted in Oregon, put into the earth in 1965 by David and Diana Lett, two visionaries who dared to believe that Burgundian grapes could thrive in the Pacific Northwest. Squinting into the blue, I had to wonder how many generations of these birds have flown here since these vines first took hold? What would it have been like to see what the hawks saw 60 years ago?

When you’re among these vines, the air hums with a kind of reverence. They don’t shout their significance—they simply are, in all their weathered dignity. Twisted and knotted, with arms outstretched like elders mid-story, they speak of resilience, intuition, and patience. These vines launched a legacy, quietly and stubbornly, against all odds. Normally I walk a vineyard and a few vines stand out to me, begging for my attention. Here, the entire row had presence. Some serene with delicate canes, some violently twisted and powerful. I wanted to pause by each and every one and listen to their own unique tale.

left: Jason Lett, Diana Lett, Angela Kallsen (me), National Sales Director Amy McCandlish Esper, and Jason Kallsen at The Eyrie Vineyards.
right: Diana Lett and me, after a fabulous evening of food, wine, laughter, and love.

What made this visit especially meaningful was being welcomed by the Lett family themselves. Today, their son Jason Lett carries the torch, tending to these historic vines with a quiet, deliberate presence that mirrors the vines themselves. Tall and thoughtful, Jason moves through the vineyard like someone listening intently—not just to the plants, but to the past. His father David may have planted the vision, but Jason is its careful, intelligent steward moving these very vines out of the past and into the future.

And then there’s Diana Lett, the queen mother of Oregon Pinot— graceful, strong-willed, and warm. She carries the memory of those earliest vineyard days with her and shares them generously. Over a glass of wine and conversation, her kindness radiates outward, grounding the place in something even deeper than its history: love.

Deciding which vine to sketch was the biggest problem I encountered during my stay!

I came with a sketchbook in hand and a mind wide open. The vines captivated me—their forms, their character, their stubborn elegance. I spent the afternoon sketching, not just their shapes, but their spirit—trying to capture something of their presence on paper. These weren’t quick gesture drawings; they were studies in endurance and individuality. I crouched low, circled trunks, observed shadows. They weren’t just plants; they were personalities.

Back in my studio, those sketches are evolving into finished works—paintings that hold the tension between fragility and strength. I'm layering in the tones of volcanic soil, the rhythms of old wood, the story of a family's devotion. The goal isn't to recreate what I saw, but to evoke what I felt—to honor the lineage of vine and vintner, earth and art.

And yet, even these stalwart vines are not immune to time. Like many own-rooted vineyards in Oregon, Eyrie’s original plantings are slowly succumbing to phylloxera, the microscopic louse that has haunted vineyards around the world. The process is gradual, almost imperceptible, but inevitable. Each season, a few more vines quietly let go. Their disappearance adds a poignant layer to their beauty—reminding me, as I sketched, that I was witnessing a living legacy in its twilight. What an honor it is to hold a piece of that history in my hands, and to carry it forward in paint.

Some of my notebook sketches from my recent visit. If I could have, I would have sat and sketched every one.

If you find yourself in Oregon wine country, make time for Eyrie. The wines are iconic, yes—but it’s the vines, and the family behind them, that will stay with you. They are quiet elders in a green sea, deeply rooted and still whispering their stories to those who take the time to listen.

Stay tuned for upcoming posts as I share the artwork inspired by this trip, alongside stories from vineyards where legacy runs deep and the vines are as expressive as portraits.