Scott Loomis is bringing his father’s extraordinary underwater paintings created at Marineland back to the Palos Verdes Peninsula, fulfilling a promise decades in the making and turning one man’s love of the ocean into a legacy for its future.
Written by Melani Morose Edelstein | 2026 | September | Issue 76
For generations of Palos Verdes and South Bay residents, the word Marineland can unlock a flood of memories.
There were the dolphins and whales, the enormous tanks, school field trips, family outings and that unmistakable feeling of arriving at a place unlike anywhere else. Long after Marineland of the Pacific closed, its stories have remained part of the collective memory of the Peninsula.
But there is one remarkable Marineland story many people have never heard.
It is the story of an artist who descended 22 feet underwater wearing a diving helmet, set up an easel among sharks, rays and schools of fish, and painted the world around him as he saw it.
His name was Addison “Curly” Loomis.
And more than three decades after promising his father that he would find a way to tell his story, his son, Scott Loomis, is doing exactly that.
PV Magazine recently sat down with Scott to talk about growing up at Marineland, his father’s extraordinary art, the promise that stayed with him for decades and the new foundation he hopes will transform that legacy into something even bigger: a way to educate future generations and help protect the ocean his father loved.
Growing Up at Marineland
Scott was just two years old when his family moved from Oregon to Redondo Beach in 1961. His father eventually found work at Marineland in 1962, starting as a janitor.
It was an unlikely beginning for someone who would go on to create one of Marineland’s most unusual artistic legacies.
Addison had always been an artist. He could draw, paint, sculpt and work in charcoal, Scott remembers.
He also loved the ocean and soon set his sights on becoming one of Marineland’s divers. He completed the necessary training and eventually joined the dive team.
For Scott, Marineland became an extension of home.
“I grew up at Marineland, basically,” he said.
He remembers riding on the back of his father’s BSA motorcycle when his dad could take him to work and spending summer days exploring seemingly every corner of the property.
As a child, none of it seemed particularly extraordinary. Marineland was simply where his father worked.
“I was too young,” Scott said of fully understanding his father’s unusual career. “I just appreciated it. I thought, man, my dad’s cool.”
Decades later, he understands just how remarkable it was.
Painting the Impossible
The underwater painting began almost as an experiment.
Another diver knew Addison was an artist and suggested he try painting underwater. The idea had a certain logic: oil paint and water do not mix.
So Addison tried it.
The result presented a problem no one had anticipated.
At 22 feet below the surface, sunlight refracted through the water, altering Addison’s visual perception. He could paint what appeared correct in front of him, but once the canvas was brought to the surface, the image looked distorted.
Somehow, he taught himself to compensate.
“He had to develop a way to paint what he couldn’t see so it turned out like what he did see when he was down there,” Scott explained.
Over time, Addison refined the technique until his underwater paintings became astonishingly realistic. Scott has shown the work to professional artists who still cannot explain precisely how his father accomplished it.
The physical challenge was equally remarkable.
The water in the tank came from the ocean and was cold enough that Addison generally could remain submerged for only about 30 to 40 minutes before having to surface and warm himself. A single painting could require approximately 40 hours underwater.
And his subjects did not exactly pose.
Addison would wait for schools of fish to circle back into view, sometimes adding only a few brushstrokes before they disappeared again.
There was, however, one notable exception.
Jerome
Among the sea life in the tank was a large grouper that developed a special relationship with Addison.
His name was Jerome.
The name itself came from Scott. As a boy, Scott frequently called his father at Marineland to ask permission to visit his best friend, also named Jerome. Hearing the name over and over, Addison eventually bestowed it upon the grouper.
Unlike the other fish constantly swimming past, Jerome would settle near Addison as he worked, sometimes resting against his knee.
The two developed an unlikely companionship.
Addison discovered that Jerome enjoyed having his mouth and gums rubbed with his paintbrushes. Eventually, he began using one of the oversized novelty toothbrushes sold at Marineland, turning their interaction into something visitors could watch through the glass.
One of Scott’s favorite historic photographs captures the extraordinary scene. Addison is underwater at his easel, Jerome resting beside him, while he works on a painting Scott calls “Twin Blues,” featuring two blue sharks. In the background, almost hidden unless you know to look for it, is the shadow of a roughly 14-foot sawfish swimming behind the easel.
It is an image from another era, and for Scott, part of a childhood that now seems almost impossible.
Marineland was filled with celebrities, entertainers and musicians during those years. Scott remembers the excitement of seeing famous visitors come through and even has a childhood photograph sitting on the lap of “Granny” from The Beverly Hillbillies.
“It was quite magical growing up there,” he recalled.
The Man Behind the Paintings
Yet the story Scott wants people to remember is not simply that his father could do something no other artist seemed able to do.
It is who Addison Loomis was.
As Scott has reconnected with people who knew his father, the same descriptions appear repeatedly.
“He was very giving,” Scott said. “He’d give you the shirt off his back.”
He was caring, loyal, deeply connected to animals and wildlife and unapologetically himself.
“He didn’t run at the same pace of the world,” Scott said. “He moved at his own speed.”
His nickname, “Curly,” came from his unmistakably curly hair. He stayed remarkably fit, swam long distances between South Bay piers, rode his bicycle from the Beach Cities to Marineland and even modeled for art classes at El Camino College.
Most importantly, Scott remembers a man who loved animals and the ocean.
That connection makes what is happening today particularly meaningful.
A Promise Between Father and Son
Despite the uniqueness of his work, Addison never received the recognition he hoped for during his lifetime.
At one point, determined to find an audience for the paintings, he packed the unframed canvases into a wooden crate, boarded a bus and traveled to New York City. He carried his work through the city, approaching businesses and organizations he believed might appreciate what he had created.
Again and again, he was turned away.
“He was rejected across the board,” Scott recalled.
Addison returned home deeply discouraged. A few years later, he developed a brain tumor.
Scott went to Oregon to help care for his father during the final months of his life.
And there, he made him a promise.
“Dad, I’m going to do whatever I can to get your story out there.”
Scott never forgot it.
He began trying to promote the paintings around 1989 and 1990, long before websites and social media made sharing a story simple. He photographed the artwork and mailed packages to people he hoped might help, including renowned marine artist Wyland.
Life continued. Years passed.
But the promise remained.
“I’ve had it in my heart since 1989,” Scott said. “It’s a labor of love.”
Coming Home to the Peninsula
Eventually, the paintings found their way back to the place where their story began.
In 2019, an exhibition at Terranea Resort brought Addison Loomis’ work back to the former Marineland property.
That connection is difficult to overstate.
The luxury resort that now occupies the spectacular stretch of Palos Verdes coastline sits on land once home to Marineland. To bring Addison’s underwater paintings back to that same location decades later was, for Scott, an important step in fulfilling his promise.
It also introduced the work to respected artists, including Dan Pinkham, who spent hours examining the paintings.
Scott remembers Pinkham’s reaction clearly: he could not understand how Addison had done it.
That sense of wonder has followed the paintings wherever Scott has taken them.
“How did he do it?” remains the question.
And perhaps the mystery is part of their magic.
From Marineland Legacy to Conservation
Over the past year, Scott’s vision has grown beyond preserving paintings.
He began the process of establishing a 501(c)(3) nonprofit foundation built around his father’s art and story, with a mission tied to something that mattered deeply to Addison himself: the ocean and its wildlife.
Rather than trying to duplicate the work of established marine conservation organizations, Scott envisions the foundation as a catalyst.
The paintings can capture attention. The Marineland story can spark curiosity. Education can turn that curiosity into awareness, and awareness can lead to action.
Scott has begun connecting with marine mammal organizations and hopes the foundation can help raise funds and awareness for established groups already doing hands-on conservation and rehabilitation work. He also envisions educational programs that can bring the story into schools.
The idea feels particularly fitting.
Long before most people were talking regularly about ocean conservation, Addison was spending hours beneath the surface, observing marine life closely enough to paint it. Scott remembers his father as extraordinarily tenderhearted toward animals and wildlife.
Long before most people were talking regularly about ocean conservation, Addison was spending hours beneath the surface, observing marine life closely enough to paint it. Scott remembers his father as extraordinarily tenderhearted toward animals and wildlife.
Now the beauty Addison captured may help protect the world that inspired him.
A Legacy for the Next Generation
Scott hopes the foundation will ultimately become generational.
Pinkham, now involved with the organization and serving on its board, encouraged Scott to think of the project that way.
The idea is already beginning to take shape within the Loomis family. Scott’s 26-year-old son, Colton, whose middle name is Rockwell, is an artist himself and recently told his father that he wants to become involved.
For Scott, that moment meant something.
A legacy that began underwater at Marineland more than half a century ago may now pass from grandfather to son to grandson.
And the paintings themselves can become more than artifacts from a beloved place that no longer exists.
They can become a bridge between generations.
Before the Memories Disappear
There is an urgency to Scott’s work.
The generation that experienced Marineland firsthand is getting older. Every year, more of its stories risk disappearing with the people who lived them.
Scott knows he is one of the people who can still tell this particular story.
He remembers the diver shack. He remembers the tanks. He remembers riding to Marineland with his dad. He remembers Jerome. He remembers when seeing his father painting underwater didn’t seem historic or extraordinary because it was simply his life.
Today, he sees it differently.
And when PV Magazine asked Scott what his father would do if he could walk into an exhibition today and see a room filled with people finally celebrating his work, Scott didn’t hesitate.
“He would probably break down and cry.”
Then Scott paused.
His father, he said, would be “in awe, total awe” that so many people cared about what he had created.
Perhaps that is the most meaningful part of this story.
A man who once carried his paintings across the country only to be told no never lived to see where they would eventually lead.
But his son did not let the story end there.
More than three decades after making a promise beside his dying father, Scott Loomis is still keeping it, one painting, one memory and one story at a time.
And now, through the foundation that bears his legacy, Addison Loomis’ view from beneath the surface may help inspire future generations to care for the ocean he loved so deeply.
To learn more about the magic of Marineland, check out Marineland of the Pacific: The Lost Ocean Park Beneath Terranea Resort.
Also check out The Storied Past Behind Terranea, Marineland’s old home.
