Charlie Lyon Maui Artist Merges Life and Art in Signature Palm Paintings


Palm trees and tropic skies aren’t novel motifs in island art, which may explain why they’re so often stuck in the background.

Maui artist Charlie Lyon instead hones in: One solitary palm. One glimpse of capricious sky.    

Lyon’s palms are never shown in full from afar. Rather, they appear cropped and close-up, at odd angles, towering over the viewer. The sky is never the same, ranging from brilliant turquoise to swirling cloud masses, hinting at bright midday sun or an imminent downpour. Although invisible, wind is a visceral force. You can practically see the trees sway and hear them rustle.    

Why palm trees? “Hawaiian watermen are always looking up at the clouds,” Lyon says, “and when they see a palm tree, it’s a telltale to show if the trades are picking up, which way they’re moving. But palm trees are also iconic to visitors, who might recall a vacation or honeymoon or maybe their only trip to Hawai‘i. I want to create a mood—and let people add their own narrative.”    

The son of two artistically talented parents, the 45-year-old artist grew up in California, first in Long Beach and Seal Beach and then in Marin County, near San Francisco. His father taught his five kids the fundamentals of art; on dad’s days off, they’d all get dressed up to visit museums and galleries. At age 17, Lyon moved to Santa Cruz, launching his professional art career before he hit 20, decorating functional objects: surfboards, skateboards, skis, and t-shirts, which he jokingly calls “the tattoo for the uncommitted.”    
Lyon moved to Lahaina in 1991 with his wife, Leslie, whom he met in Santa Cruz. “She was born on O‘ahu and lived there on and off throughout her life,” he says. “We traveled to Hawai‘i every winter since our marriage—just surfed, windsurfed, hiked, jumped off waterfalls. I felt like a little kid when I first came here. I still do.”    

When they arrived, Leslie started teaching at King Kamehameha III Elementary School in Lahaina, while Lyon established his art career. The couple expected an “anonymous and secluded” life on Maui, but for a few years, it was just the opposite.    

Tall and lanky, with a low-key, easygoing demeanor, Lyon had no trouble fitting in. He got to know Hawaiian watermen and surfing legends, such as Archie Aukai Kalepa (his first friend on Maui) and Dave Kalama, and Hollywood powerhouses, including movie and TV producer Brian Grazer and entertainment promoter Gary Propper. He considered other careers in sports or entertainment until he realized that one must cultivate one’s own talent and way of life.    

“Spending time with these gifted people, I learned a lot,” he says. “With the extreme athletes, I could see that I didn’t enjoy the same level of excitement. After a couple hours in the water, I was ready to get back into the studio. With the producers and celebrities, I couldn’t stomach the fast-paced business. So I passed on some once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to focus on my art.”    

Lyon initially pursued varied projects, from graphic design to illustration to producing Jaws Maui, a 1997 bestselling surfing photography book that he produced with Leslie. In 2000, he illustrated and co-wrote (with Leslie) a illustrated novel, Surf Clowns, targeted to reluctant readers.    

In 2001, Lyon painted his first palm, based on a photograph of a tree in his yard. Within 10 paintings, the technical detail of the photo was a hindrance. Today, he paints his trees from memory, taking a bit of creative license to enhance them. To date, he has sold over 150 works in his palm tree series to collectors from across North America and from far-flung places such as Japan, Hong Kong, Belgium, Australia, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and Nigeria.   

Each painting entails two distinct phases. First, he paints the clouds and sky, using layer upon layer of transparent acrylic pigments, smudged with cloth. Second, he seeks the strongest “place of tension” in the scene and situates the palm tree smack in its midst.    

Finding that charged spot can take a day or a week. “I kick back in my rolling chair, close one eye, and hold up my brush handle to the canvas,” he says. Once he decides where the tree belongs, he paints without hesitation, running a bold streak of brown into the mélange of pastels.    

In his airy studio near the beach, Lyon paints all day, dressed local-style in t-shirt, shorts, and bare feet. He takes hourly breaks to walk and clear his mind. “I can paint only when my head is in the right space,” he says. Music helps Lyon find that mindset, and he chooses a different soundtrack for each stage.    

“It’s a big part of the process,” he says. “When I do the clouds, I listen to an eclectic mix: flamenco, jazz, classical, Hawaiian, hip hop. I mix it up from song to song. So I might space out with a mellow instrumental and then jam with something hard-hitting that makes me totally frazzled.” His myriad of emotions affect his painting style, so the sky is constantly shifting, just as in real life. During the palm-tree stage, the mood of the painting is established, so he chooses a steady ambient sound. “It used to be Moby,” he says. “Now I’m listening to Euro techno.”   

 Lyon foresees no end to his palm tree series. In fact, he has gone beyond the canvas and decorated surfboards with his signature palms, thus returning to his early art. When not painting, he heads to the ocean, surfing on all types of boards, sailing, and outrigger canoe paddling, either solo or in a two-man boat that he paddles with Leslie. “My art has always paid for my lifestyle,” he says, “but now my art is the result of my lifestyle.”     “When I started this body of work, I stopped watching TV,” Lyon says. “Leslie and I both grew up with the TV on all the time. We decided to turn it off. It made a difference. I started seeing colors better. It’s simple. It’s about streamlining my existence.” Similarly, he wants people to slow down when they view his paintings. “A single palm tree,” he says, “is like a whisper heard through a crowd.”