lateral steps

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Tomorrow i can pick up the tiny piece of beautiful art i purchased from the local gallery, i can hardly wait! I should start with, I do not buy art. Not because I do not wish to, but currently I have neither the income nor space to make that a good idea. I buy art supplies and cram them into every bit of space available for my older still days!  I have a highly enviable stable of one day artists to own list building in my head, but for now, I just don’t. The exception has been a wee carved hummingbird that I love. The artist’s bio is what moved me from the art i will someday own, to i just must take this spirit with me in some way.

There is today and tomorrow left in the show so you could still stop by and have a peek and take time to read the biography pages, they are inspiring.

I share this as I struggle on the closing days of the call for submissions with the children’s hospital project. Each time I try to put something together, I am taken back to that long and impossible time in my life and I think I might have to let this one go at least for now, maybe sometime after submissions close i will have a gift for sharing. I don’t know yet, I find time lines are hard for me.

 I am grateful for all of the wonderful  words many of you have shared with me on my experience in kamloops and winning an award. I am grateful to say the least.

There is an extension of the show coming up in May with invited pieces – some local, some far away, all wonderful. If you are included, I am excited to see your work again in our home venue! I didn’t know how to address this because my work was not selected and I had planned to say nothing because, it is what it is. It does not require explanation from the gallery, and I will never know exactly why because I do not need to.  I was disappointed but that happens. I felt as though the pieces submitted were strong, I am happy with them and they had a nice response in hanging. I felt like the link between supporting an artist I do not know, but whom I admire at a soul level and being given an honour, was the way i understand karma. Not the karma people smugly say will get you if you mess up, but that it will lift you when you lift another. In a book i picked up last week I flipped to a page I now cannot find, but it was a quote regarding Georgia O’keefe, to the effect of, she liked to have her own show, before the public show. In such she could really look at her work and determine what was strong and what wasn’t.  A space to  form her own opinion and in so doing she could hear the good, the critical and let it all flow out the same window. In such. she was at peace. 

Creative work must be its own voice of approval or dismissal.  Everything from the outside should be taken lightly and set free.


a long time away

I have felt as though I have abandoned this part of my project, though the writings and drawings stack in a folder that grows, even now, as my year of living quietly has kind of changed up.  I have had work in a few shows this year as winter melted to early spring I felt the busy carve into the stillness and a fierce need to protect deep pockets of quiet places.

In February I started a yoga class 2 to 3 times weekly.  I thought this was a gift for someone else but it quickly turned into a self gift that also requires a commitment of time.

Yesterday I picked up two beautiful books on watercolor painting and this time next week I will be gathering up things for a workshop. There is a lot I want to learn to do, life is a classroom with so many rich options.

While mowing the grass today, skimmers float over the dandelions,  early butterflies and hummingbirds delight along with me in the fragrant lilac bushes in their early stage of open. A deer has squashed a cluster of iris bulbs in making its bed, I have set the trail cam in case it is a repeat resting place.  The shadow of the osprey circles the grass as she flies overhead, their sound is both the morning and end of day in the summer months ahead.

Time is gift.

There are stories I am waiting to share here, but for this brief moment, a check in to see if the page still opens, and the pen still writes.


the comfort zone.

In all things we become accustomed to and gravitate towards the familiar, and in so doing we find the space we call the comfort zone. Depending on your sense of adventure, security, collective receptive experiences that zone may be wide or narrow but if you think about it, you probably can identify it with ease.  It applies to  relationships,  the places we choose to spend our time, the music we are drawn to and the tools we use in the work we do. It is why I continue to use a pentax for photography, it feels so at home in my hands after some thirty five years of practice while I have sometimes coveted a nikon, i stay with what has served me well. The comfort zone may be in part created by opportunity and exposure.  It is why the first color I explored in paint came with a big free box of acrylics and much of my process in the development of color practice bounced between acrylic for canvas and watercolor for sketches. I never questioned it.

Part of what I planned for my year of living quietly included a challenge to provide a space for exploration of medium, styles, subjects and composition to develop skills and expand my comfort zone. I have spent a lot of that time falling in love with oil paint.


Far from mastering the medium, seriously it is only a year we are talking about, I am developing a comfort for how it moves, layers, holds light, and dries! I am beginning to think in terms of fat over lean which initially sounded more like a nursery rhyme or jenny craig commerical than studio speak.  So, just about the time I should possibly commit, what do you think happened?


I opened the supply cupboard…..


and laying in wait…. (you could insert the music from the great white shark in jaws)


There was the most delicious boxed pastels, some gifted from my painting aunt, some christmas gifts, one purchased for it’s absolutely irresistible range of portrait tones.


oh yum…..

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Over the past couple of years I have watched demos wherein Dennis Webber used pan pastels to make the most magical transitions and impeccably soft portraits. Viewed Justin Maas compelling emotive portraits, Cindy Whitehead create landscape and wildlife images, and Dianna Ponting demonstrate staggering realism with the edges of these thick soft pigment sticks that seem impossible.


And now something new begins. We’ll see where it goes. A wonderful woman I sometimes share a painters circle with, now in her mid eighties continues to create in a variety of mediums and who continues to explore new things with gusto shared with me these thoughts. “Perhaps I should have focused on one thing and gotten really good at that rather than a bit of everything”, she has taken workshops with an impressive list of presenters and considered the hour and a half drive to a neighboring town for some weekly workshops this past winter. At eighty five her learning curve continues and her work represents a life long love of and commitment to growth. How cool is that?!

This spring I listened to Alan Wyle present thoughts on painting while waiting for his paint to set. The one I carried home was, If you want to make a lot of money, paint one thing well, over and over and over again. If you want to have a great experience, and then it kind of trails off, and inevitably leaves me with a smile and a sense of affirmation.

the early hours

The early hours are best spent outdoors whenever possible I have come to believe. When the light has slipped in  quietly bringing a warm pink to the treetops and the mist sits like  gauze in the shadows, the wind rustles the dry leaves, geese bleat as they arrive on the water, late autumn on the lake is a time to treasure.  The loons remain and on lucky days I spend some time in their company I have become a familiar sight, one to be ignored primarily which tells me I am doing it right.

Yesterday I spent a couple of hours, staying until my fingers were too cold for function. There was magic  in the light and reflections, the perfect stillness of the morning and it was hard indeed to leave.


I have fallen shamefully behind on my schedule for painting but soon the time inside will be far greater than out and I will be grateful for work that is waiting. Ideas are simmering. Color combinations are introducing themselves and if I can hold them in memory I can attempt to produce them again on the palate and on the canvas.


I have been captivated by the loons, so iconic of Canadian wilderness considered the be primarily solitary, the pair I have shared time with this summer have pictured elegance and grace, and in their company I feel such ease.  Rarely have I seen them together as much as these past days of colder weather and shorter light and I wonder if the migration day is soon.


Life is change, the seasons, the light, the experiences though sometimes repeating are never of course exactly the same. In every familiar moment there is also the possibility of something brand new.  In my extended family, beginnings and endings are layering in some dramatic ways. It is all part of the nature of life which includes the inevitable challenging, exhilarating and compelling sense of change that equals the electricity of knowing you are alive.  My best learned secret is when it begins to feel overwhelming, trust your deepest self.  Float, close your eyes, take a breath, stretch your wings and let the current guide you. ‘We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience’ much of which seems solitary, and yet we remain connected.

points of view

One September day I took a day trip with two like minded painting friends to visit some galleries and check out a couple of showings. We drove off on a sunny morning through some beautiful landscape to stop first at the lake country gallery in Winfield, and later the larger Kelowna galleries. I had recently joined online to explore some neighboring towns art options and consider if they might work for me when I bring my work back into a public forum.

An interesting quote I read, though cannot attribute to a speaker, Being an artist is a constant dance between putting yourself out there front and center and hiding yourself away. I think I am quite comfortable with the hiding oneself away part of the dance.

The gallery tour put some incredible work in some beautiful forums, and the day with painting friends always goes into the category of fuel to the fire.   Summer I have found to be a slow zone in painting, I say that while recognizing in spurts some pieces made it from beginning to end, and the sketch book was not totally ignored. It is however, time to get back to the practice part of painting. The one that says in a calm but firm voice, you must show up.


I have new work that is rising up from the sleepy embers, sparks of idea, flashes of image, and I am eager to make that commitment. I have found an interesting thing happened on the way to productivity, I revisited a piece started last  winter. I have been adding glazes and refining detail, I slipped into the studio late last night to grey down the white of an eye as its brightness was something i didn’t want to see on my first view in the new day. It is a piece that I have learned a great deal from working with a medium and method still new to me. I will not post it until it’s fully finished at this point, as one thought came like a slowly understood revelation. From the beginning I had an attachment to the subject. I do not know him as a person, I only watched him in a moment of his world and work. Despite his youth he had so much strength and openness, not one of vulnerability but of truth. From the moment I started sketching, and in the early stages of the paintings I could see the finished piece with such clarity it never occurred to me that everyone else would potentially see something different. Last night I invited my husband to have a look, stating that in the past two weeks I have spent three full mornings working on this portrait. I can see each change and understand which additional ones I will still make, but I also wondered if anyone else would see anything different. I shared my earlier revelation regarding sharing work in progress, including I am just understanding not everyone may see what I am seeing. A squeeze of my shoulders, a kiss on the cheek, a quiet,”then make them see it”.  I smile.


We of course do not see the world as it is, but we see the world as we are.  Sharing image is to be done with release. Control the part you can, –   let go, the rest belongs to the viewer.

It is dark these early mornings when I wake. Autumn lets me sleep a wee bit longer and still be present for the sunrise. SALUTATIONS!

The dew stays a bit longer here in the shadow of the mountain and some days my patience to be in the sun takes me on a morning walk or bike ride out of the shade, into the bright warmth. There is something lovely to be found in the mist and dew, tiny prisms and reflecting spheres. One of the things I love about photography is it asks you to really see things in a different way. It helps train your eye to subtle bits of lights and shadow, and where to focus to determine your point of view.

IMGP4994I found the first bits of hard frost in a valley wetlands, in the shade and shadows the weed heads lit a path of dancing light. Nature does not hurry, each thing has its moment to shine and beauty abounds whether we see or  not.


I have been working on sketches for a new project. It is hard for me to put one thing aside to attend to another. I struggle with time management in a way that surprises me in the absense of deadlines or external pressure. It is one of the things I have learned about my own process in this year removed from participating in the outside world, I still create that sense of ‘must’.


I am however, much more likely to have faith in the pause. That space between inhale and exhale, where there is a strange sense of clarity.  It is fleeting, but I know it exists, and the task for me now is to trust it. Nature does not hurry, and yet, everything that needs to, happens.


variations of kind

My camera is a fairly constant companion, a way of walking in the world and gathering image seems in some ways for me an important part of processing and valuing the world around me. What I do with the image if far less important then being with it in the time it takes to photograph. People will often ask me about what equipment I use and to this day, other than the one constant which has been I use a pentax (for no particular reason other than it was the first brand I purchased and it became familiar in my hand) I have to go and find the camera and read the body info to answer the question. The same is true for each lens except in my head they are the big one, the mid sized big, the silly big and the really close one.


The close one does a nice job with super sharp tiny hard to see with the eye things. Some times, in some instances, i like that.

The loon in the distance, is more about creating a feeling, that softness between space and time, the solitary being in an expanse of quiet rain on an open lake. Sometimes, I like that too.


There are the moments when I am closer and the image could be brought to that crisper sharper place. Others where the light on the water is as important as the loon in the water in telling the story of that particular instance I want to hold in my memory, so I open it up a bit more and have something more like this…


I have a few photographer friends, each with their own unique styles and incredible skill sets, each that really control their shots by their knowledge and commitment to understanding the mechanics of making their camera work. While I admire that ability and sometimes envy it enough to pull out manuals and pretend I will go that route, that has proven time and time again not to be the kind of photographer I am.

My brain just does not work that way.

There is a dance between the eye and the heart and the hand that sometimes creates something just right and probably more often  misses, but the moment the dialogue in my head starts asking whats your setting I loose the connection from heart to hand and I cannot enjoy that trade even for a superior outcome.  That said, I am off to the shore for a bit, thermos the last thing to add to my bag, and yesterday I found a link again to share with you the sounds of the loon, which once experienced, lives strongly in your heart, it is as simple as that.

My best shared knowledge as a photo junkie, do not take anything too seriously, stay joyful and present in the moment, breathe deeply, be in the sun and the rain and the wind and the snow, walk softly in this world, we are all fragile things.