can't wait

It is a wintry day and getting to that time of winter when thoughts of spring appear in my mind, unbidden. I have several of my paintings depicting spring here in the house, that can trigger it. The bright blue light of a mid-winter day outside is blinding in contrast to the warm enfolding colours of spring. My patience wanes as the weather intimidates us with its burden of, yet again, more fresh fallen snow and ice.

It has actually been a relatively easy winter, and I am not overly burdened with the need to drive in it on a daily basis as, now, I have no “job”. For me, my irritability at winter's overstay, is predicated by the fact that I usually spend time painting in Bermuda in the winter. It is my favourite time to go there, I love the light, the balmy air and the vacant beaches, the vibrant winter exhibit schedules and seeing all the long time art buddies I have nurtured there over the years. I'll miss them this winter. But I rest assured I will see them again one day.

So I remind myself to be patient, that spring will appear soon. The maple bush will come alive with activity. Snow will be tramped and old maples will lovingly be bled of sap. The smell of wood smoke and the distant call of returning geese will once again reign. A new cycle of growth and rejuvenation will begin.

I cant wait.

"Mountains of New Leaves" 16x16  

Shifting views

Every artist experiences change. It is that which can either compel creativity, or thwart it.
I am in the midst of an artistic change right now. After 17 seasons as the head scenic artist for Canada’s National Arts Centre,  I am moving on. I have called it ‘retiring’, mostly to signify it’s job like status. I was, have been, contracted each season since the 1999-2000 season, to paint all the English Theatre productions as well as various Theatre Francais sets, the Governor General Awards sets, as well as other special projects around the building.
It has been a rewarding experience. I was renumerated for the work I did on an hourly basis. The workshop is a large well equipped studio to work in, it has its faults, but we worked within those boundaries.  It has a typical 70-s building issue, poor ventilation,  and so I have been spared many of the toxic chemicals I may have been seconded to use. I learned to paint with what I call the ‘30 foot eye’, seeing the images from that distance, when you are actually only 5 feet away. (I am 5’4” and that is as far away as I can be holding my paint brush on a pole to paint with,  standing up. ) I’ve learned to paint on the floor, in the air, and sometimes, even upside down.
One of my favorite art teachers always said, what you don’t say is just as important as what you do say with your paint. It was a lesson I took greatly to heart. Let the mind of the viewer  fill in the details. So today i am at a juncture where I must look at the 30 foot view and let the details figure themselves out.
I am looking forward to this new phase,  I have more ideas than years ahead of me, so let me stand on this hill for a moment as I look over the view.

Open studio

This week is my open studio.
It has been a labour of love ...a few years ago I built my studio, on the foundation of 45 years of making art. This past year I joined my cold water cabin to it....literally. it was lifted from its place in the lowlands of my  property here in Springtown, and transported to its new position, almost ajacent to my studio. Then, a place I call the new room,  was constructed between the two.
Heaven on earth I have created here for myself. It has become a rambling telescoping structure. I have lived in a 14' X 19'space for several years now, and so, just about anything is rambling from my perspective. ....

the north side

The south side

From sticks. ...

always busy

summer again

Well, summer is back with a vengeance, a last big effort, heat billows around us and we swelter, hot sun belies the date. But I remember years ago, going to school in my new woolen uniform with knee sock in heat like this. My school tie ringing wet by the end of recess.
So inside I stay under the shelter of this old brick building, cool.
I frame and draw finshing off a small 'canal' piece of coloured pencil art on paper from Amsterdam last year, to give to the Judith Moore Gallery in Merrickville for an upcoming exhibit to celebrate the 175th anniversary of the Kingston to Ottawa canal.