A heart attack changes a person’s life, but for Jim Kringler of Oak Harbor, it was the door to a new and all-encompassing passion.

Kringler, 61, a 30-year resident of Oak Harbor, has worked as an architectural draftsman most of his life. His talent for designing handsome, functional buildings led him to the position of design draftsman. Thousands of homes and commercial buildings in Washington, Canada and Alaska sprang directly from Kringler’s drawing board.

Drawing came easy to Kringler, whose mother was an accomplished oil painter. “All my life I’ve liked the smell of turpentine,” he said.

“My siblings and I learned to cook so Mom wouldn’t have to interupt her painting.” That early experience led Jim to a lifelong interest in art and eventually, gourmet cooking.

Perhaps his taste for rich food was a factor leading up to a major heart attack in 1995, followed by five-way bypass surgery. But that was only the beginning of Kringler’s problems. A month after surgery, he had another major attack, and he felt his life was hanging by a thread. The next year brought a series of minor strokes and heart attacks. He and his wife, Judi, grew to know the medics on a first-name basis.

During one visit to the Critical Care Unit, Judi paged nervously through a magazine in the Whidbey General Hospital waiting room. A photo of an Impressionist painting caught her attention. She took the magazine into Jim’s room and showed him the picture. It struck a chord with him, as well.

As soon as he was home from the hospital, Jim dug out some long-neglected art supplies. He immediately began working on a pointillist oil painting depicting the lushness of the Kringlers’ springtime garden. It was followed by a torrent of landscapes and animal paintings.

Kringler was befriended by the late Oak Harbor artist, Martha Bund, who encouraged him in his artistic pursuits. He joined Whidbey Allied Artists, and began to show his work locally. Later he signed up for Joan Brosnahan’s watercolor class at the Senior Center, where both instructor and fellow painters urged him on. Then he and Judi attended an Impressionist exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum.

“It was like going home again,” he said.

“I was emotionally overwhelmed.” At that point, art became a passion and a reason to live.

Kringler’s creative energy seemed boundless. Unfortunately, his health was not. He developed intestinal adhesions. His red blood count dropped dramatically. In 1998, he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma, a cancer of the lymphatic system.

“When I was diagnosed, I thought to myself, well, I’ve had a good life, and who am I to complain,” Kringler said. Perhaps as a way of keeping himself strong against the latest onslaught of illness and chemotherapy, he began to write. He’d always had an affinity for Native American lore, and found himself telling the life story of a Mandan Indian woman. It chronicled his heroine’s struggle to survive under the worst conditions.

It was only after an astute oncology nurse read it, was the obvious revealed to him.

“Jim, this is you!” she said. “This is your story, your own triumph over adversity.”

“The characters became very real,” he said.

“I had to illustrate them, in pencil and ink, then on canvas, as well as in words.” He abandoned watercolors for the boldness of oils, and began bringing the characters in his story to life with brush and paint.

As ill health took its toll, Jim found that even breathing had become a chore. He’d lost 45 percent of his lung capacity. He was a frequent visitor to Whidbey General Hospital’s Oncology Department, as the lymphoma could only be put into remission for a few months at a time. A quick-witted extrovert, Kringler soon formed friendships with the oncology nurses. Always sketching, he shared his art with them and with fellow patients.

Coincidentally, a couple of nurses were planning one of the first cancer awareness programs at the hospital. Among the program’s features is an art exhibit featuring the works of cancer survivors, patients, their families and close friends.

Jim entered several paintings. The positive response they drew was encouraging. His story and the characters that peopled it bloomed. The lymphoma went into remission for a year, but Kringler’s passion for art remained. Through his encouragement, in recent years Whidbey Allied Artists group has helped sponsor Aliveness Through Cancer art shows.

He continued to portray Indians, but branched in other directions, as well. One memorable canvas, entitled “Mona and Friend” depicts a wry Jim Kringler beside the Mona Lisa. More recently, Jim came across a book of 19th century erotic art, and his creativity took yet another turn.

What was considered naughty in 19th century Paris would be just another teen pop star fashion today. But the buxom women depicted in the book appealed to Jim’s sentimental side.

”I’m a romantic at heart,” he said.

“I admire the languid Art Nouveau beauties of Alphonse Mucha and the awesome talents of Bouguereau, Ingres and Alma-Tadima.”

Soon, canvas after canvas of robust beauties, some clothed, others not, tumbled from Kringler’s easel. Each has a name and a history bestowed upon her by Jim. Some of his painted ladies lounge on luxurious chaises. Others wander through gardens or fondle mourning doves. Jim’s artistic and technical expertise expanded with each painting, and soon it became evident to all who knew him that Jim Kringler had found his niche.

A few months ago the cancer returned, and so did the chemo. The already-gaunt Kringler lost more weight and was forced to travel with a portable oxygen unit. The recent regimen of steroids has swollen his features and causes him to stay awake long into the dark morning hours.

Ever the optimist, Kringler quips that it’s given him more time to paint. And paint he does. Once again, his art is changing directions. A recent canvas depicts an angelic child surrounded by white lilies. She’s the embodiment of innocence, a far cry from the lusty ladies of the last artistic phase.

Kringler feels that the purpose of life is to express itself through creating.

“Some confused souls may only create mayhem, but to be truly fulfilled, we must all create to make ourselves and others happy. That’s what my painting is all about. I’m not out to be famous, but the act of creating is most essential to my existence. To my mind, to create is to love. As long as you’re going in that direction, nothing else matters.”

E-mail Mariana Graham at frogardn@whidbey.net.