Saskatoon in Bloom

Wow, we have a beautiful city! I think June is well-deserved each year, when the flowers are finally in full bloom, the grass is brilliant green, the days are extraordinarily long, and full summer mode has begun.

This weekend, I was blessed with two days of painting en plein air in Saskatoon gardens. The first was the koi pond and garden at Innovation Place. I was there early in the morning, before other people and their dogs strolled in. I watched the lily flowers open slowly in the sun, saw the koi darting to find breakfast, witnessed the dragon flies hover slowly and perch on reeds. As the year progresses, I will have to spend more time there. A real gem in the city.

The second plein air session was with my painting group at a backyard oasis created by a friend and colleague of my mentor, Iris Hauser. Sometimes, you have an experience in life that completely levitates your spirit. My late mom was there, in the swirling sparrows, the tomato plants and the bleeding hearts. Our host generously permitted us full access so we wandered in awe with wine and cheese from the kitchen, past the pond and the bridge, to the herb garden and the vegetable patch, through the arches to apple and berry trees. I felt any stress and sadness in my body dissipate as I settled to paint. The painting was not my best, Kelly Goerzen would raise one eyebrow, but that suddenly wasn’t important to me. What a gift the afternoon was and I shall relive it for a long time to come.

Moving Through Media

Someone said to me today, “It doesn’t seem to matter what media you choose, Gwen, it is always your thing.”

That caught me off-guard. I have spent the better part of a year now embracing oil paint. It has been extremely different than any of the media I have used so far. Somewhere in my childhood, I recall using a small set of oil paints and when I daydream about it, I can even smell the linseed oil. Oil Paint and its supplementary cleaners and thinners have come a long way. No longer do they have to be so volatile and odorous. That makes things simpler.

It doesn’t, however, make things any easier when it comes to learning how to best use oil colour. A lot of the tips and tricks (or rules - depending on how you look at it) that I have gathered with acrylic paints do not apply to oils. I had come to rely on the erasing quality of white paint with acrylics. Make a mistake? Simply white it out immediately, make a coffee and return to start again. You don’t do that with oils. They just get muddy and slimy looking. So, in order to keep the colours rich and true, which is - let’s face it - the whole reason you switch to oil paint in the first place, you have to learn specific techniques on how to lay the paint correctly on the canvas.

I have struggled with it, then found my niche, then struggled with it again. Just when you think you have it all figured out, nothing works the way you had planned and you have to stop, let the painting dry for a week or so, and come back to it with a plan and a fresh mind.

It has been good for me in many ways. I am a quick painter and I love to move through a painting and solve the issues and the problems, moving the work from the ‘ugly’ stage through to the ‘not bad’ segment, and finally through to the ‘wow, that worked out well’ peak in one sitting. Oil paint won’t let me do this. Everything is slower and more methodical.

I admit, sometimes I yearn for the days when I splashed paint on the canvas and would lose my thoughts completely, while something exciting emerged in no time, seemingly on its own from the paint.

But life is not like that and especially the years past middle age. You have to slow down, move more carefully, be purposeful and calm. And with that comes power, faith in yourself, and in your art practice.

Always and ever, my art practice weaves itself through my life and teaches me more than just how to cover a canvas with pretty stuff. It teaches me how to live well, and that is such a gift!

Satisfaction

I have spent the last months preparing for the Saskatchewan River Art Tour in the Nipawin area. Michael Brownlee of Mabel Hill Farm Kitchen and Marketplace has embraced my art work in his lovely venue year-round but this weekend I have the opportunity to show more of my work there and visit with those who pop in to see what I have accomplished.

I have finished everything (24 paintings and 80 greeting cards) and all that I need to do is pack it up into the vehicle and make my way there Thursday. My husband took a load of paintings and easels the other day. I am looking forward to setting it all up and seeing it displayed together. I have everything from greeting cards to large paintings, florals to canola fields to beachscapes.

The preparation has required an intense creativity that I haven’t achieved for some time. With the loss of my mom, I wondered if it would ever come back to me. Something changed when she died. It was really hard to find the joy in things, even painting.

Here I am, six months after her death, putting together an art show. I can’t say that it has been easy. I had to push myself many days to keep going. I did it, though, and I like what I have to display. I am not worried about sales, either. I never got into painting for money. I got into it because I needed to create. If someone thinks something I have made is worth buying, then I am honoured.

The show days will be extremely hot but I hope that people come out anyway. I am open in the evenings so it will be a bit cooler, I hope.

And after? Well, I have a stack of books I badly want to read as well as some other personal goals. My focus will change for a bit. I have been missing my granddaughters, too. Maybe we will even paint together, who knows?

Musings on Mental Health

I am up this morning, coffee brewing, quiet jazz playing in the background. My paints and brushes await with canvases in various stages of the process. First, some stretching and quiet contemplation. And a note to you.

My painting stalled out for a year or so. Who am I kidding… it stopped entirely. I am so grateful that I am now back at it and I bring with me all that I experienced. Life, as it does, took a hard left and I found myself in unknown territory, in the most difficult and painful situations I have ever experienced. Add Covid to that and it was the perfect storm.

My mom was diagnosed with cancer and died. Such a simple sentence but so much behind it. I was her main caregiver, a responsibility I have now for my grieving father.

Sometimes when trauma happens, artistic people gravitate to their work, whatever that may be. That didn’t work for me this time. Chocolate worked better. Humour, wherever I could find it, in whatever morbid corner, helped a lot. The experience was a bit like drowning would be, I imagine. Quick gulps of air and then underwater with no concept of when your next breath might be.

So now, I have been putting a lot of energy into my mental health. Sitting with the pain when necessary, finding someone to listen now and then, reading about trauma and grief, loss and death. Water, vitamins, walking and veggies. All the things. I think a lot about how society looks at the acceptance of death and what a mess that is. I am livid at the shattered health care system I had to navigate on mom’s behalf. And, I feel the weight of being the next generation to pass away. Am I doing all I want or need to do now while I hopefully have time?

It is all heavy stuff. But I am finding a way for my art to take its rightful place in my life again and the act of painting really makes me appreciate how far I have come.

So, if you are struggling today, or any day, know you are not alone and that if today is absolute shite, feel free to write it off. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Or the next day. You will come up for air again.

Mental Health help line: Call 1-866-585-0445

The C Word

I am painting up a storm here in seclusion. Covid-19 has grabbed the world by the throat and everyone I know and love is reeling with anxiety and distress (except for a few ridiculous deniers - you know who you are - go do some careful research). Of course, when all this started early in the year we all naively believed it would soon run its course and life would continue on as we knew it. We were mistaken. Now we are facing the Christmas season under severe restrictions, watching this virus destroy our health care system, our families, our way of life, and our economy.

Coping has become our only course of action. We try to keep our lives on track, while we walk the tightrope. We have had to become comfortable with masks and teach our little ones that it is normal to hang a piece of cloth over your smile. We have had to leave loved ones alone in order to keep them safe. Human touch has become something that can kill you. Hugs, kisses, and hand holding is subject to intense scrutiny.

It is unbelievable as I type this. We seem to have landed in the middle of a horrible B movie and we can’t claw our way out.

And so, I have thrown my energy into painting. It is one thing I can control. The colours give my heart a lift. Combing through my photos to find appropriate reference pics make me appreciate all the things we have done in the past that I have taken for granted. Then, I push and pull the medium, smearing and stroking and pulling the paint. When I am done, I hold something in my hand that wasn’t there before. It makes me proud and grateful that I am able to create beauty in the world at this moment in time when we are aching for love.

Our holiday season will be a quiet, small, relaxed celebration of life. We will welcome the end of 2020 and will hope for better days that we don’t take for granted. We will hope to see and hold loved ones that have been needing our arms around them. We will pray no one we know or love is take from us before this virus is under control. Getting through to the other side unscathed is our destination.

Be careful. Be watchful. Take no chances. Do what you love. Be grateful.

I'm BAAACK.

I never really left, actually. If you are an artist at heart, you create in some form or another all the time. Whether it is cooking or house decor, doing makeup, gardening, doodling, singing loudly to your granddaughters :), or all of the above, you throw your heart into it. And I do.

I have been painting, but I haven’t been posting much or trying to sell anything lately. These COVID times have been trying in so many ways. I am not going into it because we are all sick of hearing about it; however, it has changed a lot about how I live and work.

I made a pact with myself that I was going to be good to me. I was going to be as good to myself as I was to others. So I have been working on a lot of self-care stuff. Painting is one of those things. I have created a lovely body of work lately, mostly florals, and am excited about showing it at Mabel Hill Farm Kitchen and Marketplace next week. Yay, Michael Brownlee!

And, I am already thinking about the next series. Our travels have come to an abrupt halt, of course, so I am going to travel through my photos and paint the sea I so desperately miss every day.

Thanks for checking in; I appreciate it! Stay tuned!

Edges

I am busy getting paintings ready for the show at the Gordon Snelgrove Gallery in Saskatoon next week. Everything has to be wired and ready to go by Friday. The paintings have been chosen and I am working on the finishing, the signatures, the wisp of white here or there, an added cloud or water drop, or pink glow. As I stand back, I know I have left all my edges raw; they are not painted nor are they stained. Where the panels are cradled birch, I have for the most part left the wood in its natural state. If the artwork is a canvas, I paint only on the front and leave the sides clean, except for the slip of an eager brushstroke here or there. I am not a messy painter and do try to keep things neat.

I have read that visual art on canvas or panel is considered by some to be unfinished if the edges are not painted. Actually, a question I get asked quite often is, “Are you supposed to leave the edges like that or paint them”?

Here is the simple answer, I like them like this.

When I see artwork painted around the edges like wrapping paper, I cringe. I have tried that and it always looks slapped on and inaccurate. When you are trying to continue a scene on an angle around a corner, it just doesn’t match well no matter how hard you try. Some artists grab a random colour, black in many cases, or mix together all the colours on that particular piece and paint all the edges with it. I used black once, and I didn’t mind it on that one panel, the artwork itself happened to be all black and white. But black sure isn’t my go-to when it comes to edges.

When I view a canvas, I spend a lot of time savouring the edges of the work. This give me clues to the personality of the painter. What colour was used for the underpainting (which gives me an idea of the mood the artist was trying to create)? What size of brush strokes were used (which may suggest the type of brush the artist prefers)? How many layers of glaze were applied (how much struggle was involved to get things just right)?

For me, the edges of a painting are a treasure hunt. They are like wrinkles on a beautiful face. What has this painting been through to get here? I just can’t cover them with paint. And the wood cradled panel glows all on its own, and frames my coloured work so well, why would I want to hide it?

How would you like your edges, madam? I like mine raw, please.

Success

I am going to talk about something artists hate talking about. Money.

I started doing this because it was something I enjoyed doing, just for fun. I wanted to get better at it. So I did it more often and I took some courses. Which led to more courses, and more fun. Before I knew it, I had gained a new circle of friends and acquaintances. I just kept at it, learning and growing. Now, I find myself at a point where people are asking me to display my work and produce commissioned pieces, and money enters the picture.

Frankly, it is awkward and feels a bit strange to charge people for something I love doing. Every moment spent with a paintbrush or a drawing tool in my hand is enjoyable to me. But somehow I have to come up with prices for what I produce. It has been a tough thing to do.

Quincy Jones, a well-respected music mogul, said in a podcast on creativity, “God walks out of the room when you’re thinking about money.” I really respect that thought. God, or the creative force (as I prefer to see it), disappears when your focus is the cash. You lose your way.

What I know is that all of this won’t work for me if I don’t above all love the process of creating. If I love what I am doing, all will be well. Therefore, I will not sell anything just for the sake of the sale and I will not be an artist that tries to chase money.

Having said that, I want my work to be affordable to people that do appreciate it and want a piece in their home and so I keep my prices reasonable. I cover my materials and I estimate a minimum amount for my time. If a piece is particularly complex, I might quote a bit more.

I won’t be upset if you don’t ever want to buy anything and you just want to look at my work. My mentor, Carol Wylie, said to me “Your job as an artist is to do the work and to get it out there". What happens after that is out of my hands, and it doesn’t really matter.

If I make a little money to cover my costs, that helps. But success to me is enjoying the ups and downs of the creative process, forgetting my problems, trusting my instincts, and coming out on the other side with something pretty cool in my hands. Anything else is just a bonus.

The Importance of Drawing

This weekend, I attended the Art Now fair in Saskatoon. It was a blustery, snowy weekend so walking into a space full of artists was like receiving a warm hug.

I milled around enjoying the work of various prairie artists, some of which I knew, others completely new to me. Lately, I have been hesitant to concentrate too much on the work of others for I am reaching a point where I feel I need to calm the outside influences on what I do and pull more from within. Working more intuitively, as they call it. With that in mind, I let the colours and the shapes of the displayed work flow easily through my mind, and then I walked to the area where artists and gallery owners and public gallery curators were all giving talks throughout the day.

I spent most of the day there and I am glad I did. I learned so much. Some of it was reinforcement of things I already knew, like focusing on the intuitive side of your art practice. Some of it was completely new to me; for instance I got a better feel for the connection between artists and galleries and how that dance works, or doesn’t in some cases.

What affected me most was a talk by Cam Forrester, a Saskatoon painter and member of the group ‘Men Who Paint’, about how he focuses on drawing first, painting second. I know that drawing is the most essential skill an artist possesses. But from now on, the way I will use it, and the amount I focus on it will significantly change after hearing him speak.

Cam had the benefit of spending years in the architectural world where drawing was a daily essential. His high degree of drawing skill has enabled his painting practice to climb to great heights. The way he renders his sketches, and then recreates the sketches on canvas without any reference to photos, was really enlightening. I have always been a slave to the reference photo. But Cam’s method, with an extra drawing step, enables his voice to come through and frees him to be more creative with colour choices and design elements.

If you aren’t a painter, you may have found this post rather dull. But if you are, and you have been taking a shortcut in the drawing department, maybe’s Cam’s way of working can help you, too, achieve something more authentic and satisfying.

The big question: Now, where the heck did I put all my drawing supplies?

Steel Bowl, 2017, pencil crayon on toned tan paper, 8.5” x 5.5”

Patience

Cultivating patience is perhaps my biggest struggle in life. At this point in time, I wish I had double doses of it. Russell Brand, whom I follow on Instagram, had a fantastic little video today on Patience. Wow, did it hit home! I thought about it today as I worked on the painting below. Here is what he said:

“I really, really struggle with Patience. What helps me to understand its importance and its place is I just have to let go of the little idea that I should be at a certain place at a certain time, or that certain journeys should take certain times, or that certain people in my life should progress in the way I that would have them to, or business pursuits should happen at the speed that I want them to. If I am willing to let that go I can do everything within my power as guided and instructed to make things happen perhaps as quickly as possible. But then the rest of the world is going to interact with that. As Churchill said, “No plan survives human contact.” We need to be patient because otherwise what we are doing is creating an inner tension in order to effect an external situation over which we have little control. It is a form of self punishment…..We must let go of impatience because patience is a form of acceptance and acceptance is everything.”

Patience with the seasons and the weather, patience with people in my life, patience with my broken ankle, patience with my artwork.

Breathe and accept. Phew!

Fall at Home, 36” x 24”, Acrylic on Canvas

Notes on Autumn and Feeling Joy

Fall is gorgeous and my favourite time of year, particularly September. There is still greenery around, but the foliage turns golden, then orange, then rust. There are warm days, cool nights, stunning sunsets. The geese gather and fly overhead; the leaves rustle in the wind. There is gratitude for the season past and a slow resignation to the upcoming winter. It becomes cool enough to light the fire in our stone fireplace. Pumpkin, squash, corn, and the end of the gardening season provide much to warm your heart and your belly. 

Lately, I was commissioned to paint an autumn landscape of the winding local river with the backdrop of blue skies and colourful shoreline. I could feel the sun on my face while I painted, feel the breeze gently blowing the water. When you can immerse yourself in your painting, pretend you are in the boat drifting down the river, the painting becomes richer, truer, more real. Although it was meant as a gift for someone else, the act of painting it became a gift to me. That is the true joy of commissioned work!

Unexpected Breaks

It has been a week since the Studio Trail finished. I had a great turnout, partially due to the fact that our town had a lot going on and people were congregating right beside my art show. As well, I had been building up the event to family and friends that hadn't seen my art before. Whatever the reason, I had wonderful feedback and good conversations. I received several commissions for future work so that was amazing, too. My hubby was so helpful, assisting me with constructing displays, signage, and set up. His support is endless and I am so very thankful.

Since then, harvest began on our farm and, just as quickly as it began, slowed down completely due to weather conditions. I was going to use the lull in the work load to freeze some meals and do some painting. Unfortunately, as I was leaping off our front doorstep in a rush to deliver a message to my son outside, I tumbled and ended up with a fractured foot. 

I have never broken any bones. My health is and has usually been excellent. So, this was a little shocking. I am two days post-break, with a clumsy cast on and finding getting around on crutches very challenging. Yesterday, I climbed the stairs on my backside and set up my painting supplies for the next commissioned piece. It didn't take long for me to run out of steam. I descended the stairs, butt by step, feeling woozy and defeated. 

The whole ordeal could have been worse. I feel lucky the break was minor and know it will heal in a few weeks. I will keep trying to paint and hopefully in a few days I will be able to get some of the commissions done. Patience has never been one of my virtues, but maybe it can be.  When I give my word on delivery dates, I always do my very best to keep it. Wish me luck!

My setup at the Carrot River Valley Studio Trail

Thoughts On Finding Something You LOVE To Do

I am preparing for the upcoming Studio Trail - August 17-19. Every year at this time, our local artisans get together and dedicate a weekend to show off their work. A map is available so that people can tour everyone's studio. Mine is up a narrow staircase on the top floor of my house. Mobility issues would prevent many from viewing my art there, not to mention the cramped quarters I work in. So, I am showing my work in our town in a rented space. It is exciting to get together all of my favourite work in preparation for the Studio Trail. When you just sit daily with your nose deep in it, you don't often look up at the magnitude of what you have accomplished. It is going to be very satisfying to see everything together, hanging in one space. 

I finished a commission for a friend this morning and I am very happy with it. Yesterday was one of those days when I completely immersed myself in painting and barely looked away. When I did, it was almost 7 pm!  I had spent almost 12 hours painting and the time just flew by. That is when you know you have found something you love to do. You go into a trance of sorts and you have a compulsion to keep going. I am so thankful to have persisted with my art education, and to have dedicated all the time and energy to it. It has opened a new door of lifelong learning and an avenue where I can channel my creative energy. There were many years I doubted I would find something like this to love. I was a 'jack of all trades - master of none', but I just jumped in with both feet and it has already given me more than I even realized was possible. If you, too, are on that type of search, keep going! You will get there!

Head in the Clouds

I have reached a point in my artwork where ideas are coming at me constantly. The more I paint, the more I dream of new painting projects. It is rather difficult at times. I am inspired by something, anything, and my brain whizzes off, thinking about a feeling I could somehow create, which colours to use, the size and shape of the canvas. Then, all of a sudden my thoughts take a quick turn and I am thinking about a totally different idea. Kind of like a kaleidoscope in my brain.

Sometimes I think about an project in so much detail that I work it completely through in my head and then feel no need to paint it. Or, when I do start to paint it, I have lost the excitement for the project. One of my instructors told me this was dangerous, completing projects in my head, for it is a short step from there to not bothering to physically create at all.

I try now to jot down ideas as soon as they hit me. That way, I am assured that the idea will not be lost, yet I haven't worked it all though to the end. I keep a running list of ideas, like a 'to do' list, and cross them off as I complete good ideas or omit weak projects.

I hate getting so logical about it all; it is supposed to be soulful and not so contained, but this works for me. Simply sitting down when I feel like it and letting it all flow willy-nilly results in scattered quality and sparse quantity. 

What works best for you?

Mount Elizabeth Fog, watercolour on paper, 11" x 14"

Sunday Mornings

The image below was painted from a photo taken by my daughter-in-law. One Sunday morning, she snapped this pic when my granddaughter, with her bed-hair and her sidekick hairless kitty, was standing on the bed peeking out the window at the new day. It grabbed at my heart and I just had to paint it.  There is something to be said for the innocent hope in a new day, a new week. 

Painting my granddaughter, and I have painted her a LOT lately, is so effortless. It just flows off my brush. I connect with the fact that She finds joy and laughter in everything adults take for granted. Watching her look at the world with fresh eyes, I am constantly in awe of little things I usually pass by. Like ladybugs. And random pieces of coloured string. And blueberries. And fresh new Sundays. What a blessing she is in this crazy world.

Sunday Morning, Acrylic on Canvas, 15" x 30"

Growing

So, things are swirling, professionally and personally.

I have finished all the requirements for my graduation and have been meeting with my wonderful mentor, Carol Wylie, to choose works and a theme for my graduation show in October. I have joined up with the Carrot River Valley Studio Trail, a group of local artisans, to display my work for a weekend in August. My website needed updating as does my catalogue of work. Our family farm has been hectic with seeding season, now completed. The grass on the acreage always needs trimming and the garden is growing tall and so are the weeds! My kitchen is always buzzing, as kitchens are the hearts of family farms.

Our long Saskatchewan days are bright at about 4:00 am and darkness falls around 10:30 pm or so. I know that this is temporary and that it is a gift for pushing through those horribly short days in winter. I try to fill the hours with as much as I possibly can.

I have many plans for my artwork this summer. We are again flying into remote Northern Saskatchewan for four days and I will have time to paint the pristine beauty of the Canadian Shield, where the days are even longer. So looking forward to that. I also have plans to do some figurative work; this is an area I wish to nurture and grow.

With the Time crunches, I have been painting small pieces lately, gearing up for something larger. My granddaughter is always such great inspiration!

McKenna Watercolour Study, Watercolour on canvas, 5" x 5"

Everything is Coming Up Roses

Today, as the snow fell silently outside my artspace window, I painted this rose with acrylics. It was my first experience at underpainting. Yes, I should have taken advantage of the benefits of underpainting by now - kind of like your painting's 'underwear' - but until today I had not. I am pretty happy with the result. I had intended this rose to be yellow, but as I painted, I sub-consciously started grabbing Cadmium Red and mixing it with Cadmium Yellow. It might have been cold and blustery outside, but inside I sipped hot coffee, listened to Suzie Vinnick, and painted this rich, warm rose. My heart is full! 

Mucking Around

It is late April on the prairie. The land is waking up. The snow is melting and water is running everywhere. Everything is a dead shade of brownish grey. I confess it is not my favourite season. Like a woman getting ready for a night out, you have to wait patiently while the land gets herself dressed and ready. It takes some time but it is generally worth the wait.

I thought I would head outside and try some plein air painting. I haven't done a lot of it; I have found painting from reference photos very comfortable and rewarding. But my watercolour instructor insisted that we should spend more time outside. I packed my bag of paints, brushes and bottles of water, hauled my lawn chair behind me and trudged off across the farmyard. 

I promptly got my running shoes stuck to the laces in mud. Back to the house I went to change into rubber boots. I sloshed my way across the back of our property to the fence line where there was some snow still sitting under a clump of trees. I painted there and also at a spot I found where old cars have sunk up to their axels in soft ground. 

I don't think it was my best work, but I did get a feeling for painting live as opposed to a photo. The grass moves, the snow melts, and a lot of it happens while you are trying to capture it. As the prairie reveals herself bit by bit this spring and summer, I will spend more time with my paints and my lawn chair. Hopefully, I can ditch the rubber boots and paint with bare feet.

Feeling Progress

I spent the weekend at another USCAD class, Watercolour Painting. Even as a little girl, I was put off by watercolour paint. It grabbed the paper so quickly, you didn't have time to change your mind. No erasing. Layers seemed to make a big mess. When purchasing supplies for last year's Visual Arts Survey class, we were required to pick up a small amount of artist quality watercolour and I found a little Sennelier case with 8 colours in it. I poked and prodded around with it. And then I recalled that somewhere in my spare room there was a box of items my mother had given me that had belonged to my grandmother and her sister, Mildred, who owned and operated the Arlington Art Gallery in Saskatoon many years ago. In the box was an old set of watercolours. 

Everything turned around when I bought artist quality paper. The rough absorbent surfaces enabled me to pull and push the paint in ways I had never been able to previously. What a difference! All of a sudden I could see possibilities. I started to really enjoy working with the medium. I found a book in a second-hand book store on watercolour techniques and I worked through the book. I painted still life settings, photos, and from imagination.

I was making headway, but everything looked fussy, itchy, wiggly, unsettled. I registered for the Watercolour class. Half of a day in, the light bulb went oN.  

My instructor gave me a REALLY BIG paintbrush and said, paint only with this. 'WHAAT??', I thought.  But it worked. My paintings are much more loose and soft where they need to be. The eye can travel now from place to place where before it was dizzying. I am so much happier with what I am doing now, and I can't wait to get upstairs to my artspace. Now, if only the housework would do itself.

Bruce

11 x 15"

Watercolour on Paper

On the Move

It has been a busy winter. I have been travelling, which is another passion of mine. I have taken a ton of photos from which to work. The sights, sounds and scents I have experienced will fall through my fingers onto canvas and paper. It takes a little time to sift through it all. 

I am heading home very soon. Re-energized and anxious to create, I promise to post more often. Here is a little something, just for now.