For those new to my website, I’d like to introduce myself, and share a little bit about my art journey from inside my studio. I’m lucky to live and create in beautiful Keewatin, Ontario, where the stunning landscapes of Lake of the Woods and the Boreal Forest all around me inspire my every brushstroke… but how did I get here?
My journey started when I was really young. In fact I can’t remember not drawing. I started oil painting at 14 and fell in love with that… it was a simple yet loving and important introduction from my grandmother, Oma Jean. Her love to create was inspiring, and I am forever grateful for the time she spent with me. My grandfather made my first easel. Shortly after that I lost the vision in my left eye. I was devastated and worried it would happen to the other one. It gave me a sense of urgency to see as much as I possibly could, because nothing is a sure bet for tomorrow. I travelled for a long time on very little money, never taking a single sight for granted. While getting used to my new vision, I learned to rely on light and shadow to determine how far away things were. I attribute the way I capture light to this experience. It is only natural for me to pay attention to shadows and light in the world around me. This is why I wait until the light is right to paint. Things take more time, but in the long life of art, that doesn’t matter to me. My goal is quality, and truth.
Further along my journey I picked up skills by experimenting, attending workshops and retreats, reading, painting with others in new locations, studying light and having a great mentor, Robert Genn. He was the most influential person in my art career. I loved painting on the floor of his studio, drawing with him in his boat, travelling and painting by ship and our laughter and conversations. I carry the precious time I spent with him close to my heart. His sense of humour about art and life and his love of painting was infectious.
I have an intense curiousity about what I see, and a craving to create. I love trying something new. To me, painting is a conversation, or a dance. It goes back and forth, honestly sometimes I don’t’ know how it will react and it surprises me! I love experimenting and trying something new. It never gets boring to me.
In the winter I love to paint for long hours in the studio and in the summer for shorter bursts of time on the lake, directly painting what I see in front of me. I like the adventure of discovering new parts of the lake, and the quick fresh brush strokes and fun in this part of my life. The light changes and weather changes so fast and it’s a great challenge. When it gets too cold for that I try to remember the sounds and smells of the lake and forest when I’m painting inside, using photos and memories I collected over the summer. And, when spring comes, it’s like I’m seeing green for the first time!
I officially quit my “day job” about a decade and a half ago. I should say I had a lot of day jobs… they all didn’t last long, but painting always stayed with me. I didn’t hate my day job at the time, but I remember my mind was what was on the easel. It was also shortly after I got into my first gallery. So I went to my employer and explained that my mind couldn’t be in two places at once. I’ve never been able to be in two places at once mentally. Whatever I’m doing, it’s 100% that and I’m all in and focussed. So from that day on I treated my art the same as a full time job. I unplugged the phone and focussed my energy during the day, while my kindergarten aged kids were at school… and most often in the evening too when the kids went to bed. I’m sure they can tell you about my awful version of “Zombie” or whatever else I had in my headphones coming from my studio while they were sleeping above! I loved painting in the evening. I felt like it was my space, I still do, like time doesn’t exist at all and it’s only me and the music and the art.
Being a full time artist who still needed to pay the bills wasn’t easy. It’s never a steady paycheque, and there’s no pension. But, the challenges I faced even more than financial stability was confidence in my voice as an artist. There were a lot of paintings burned on the bonfire in the beginning, and here and there there still are, but the confidence in knowing that if you don’t fail you’re not trying something new and pushing yourself forward is knowledge that I have now. It used to think, “I’m not ready”, or “I’m not good enough” but now I know that that nervous feeling before a brave moment means I am on the right path. My goals as an artist are to be true to my curiousity, to be brave in my brushstrokes and sure in listening to my voice in every single painting, never settling for what always works, what’s worked before or what other people are doing.
So, there are emotional ups and downs every month in a project based job like mine. But, I do know that this is what I am. I can’t imagine doing anything else with my days. And so, I feel the unfolding of each day to be good.. I am in control of my work, or so I think… when in reality it’s always the painting that sets my hours. If it’s going right, every song is a good song, every moment is a Friday night, everything looks beautiful and happy in the world, but if it’s not going right, it’s all I can think about. It robs my sleep, my health and my social life. Art is a demanding bitch, as it should be. It never settles nor should it. Being your own boss means working on a Saturday, calling in “sick” to social engagements in order to paint, and working when you’re actually sick. Pushing yourself when you don’t think you can. It means inventing and trusting your own instincts. It means being okay with working 60 hours a week and earning nothing when times are tough, but trusting in what you do. I have no control on the sale of my art, but I do have control about the quality of work I put out there, and so that is what I focus on. I love my job, and that means I will fight to keep it. It’s an unusual life, but an interesting and rewarding one and I can’t imagine another one for me.