2015 show inspired by the Canadian Election, Leonard Cohen’s poem “Anthem”, The Bells of Rhymney (Wales), and Oranges & Lemons (the English nursery rhyme). From soft & joyful dings to bone-shaking clamourous clangs, these paintings sing!
Just a hint of snow. The occasional fat flake visible against the still leafy tree, in slow dance downward. I watch, mesmerized as if my back window has become a television, the floating white stuff a metaphor, a plot device in the opening credits that whisper a coming change. There are things I am pleased … More where might this tunnel lead
I cannot imagine my life without the experience of the Cotton Factory artist residency. On all levels – personal, professional, academic, philosophical and physical (since I have now moved my work and my life here) – it continues to enrich, expand and amplify my world. Residencies are transformative things, I’ve learned. In some ways, contradictory, … More Artist residency in Hamilton: highly recommended
The overwhelm subsides into a kind of rhythm as I begin to understand what my new job is; what feels unfamiliar but is actually okay. As the illusion clears – of pitfalls and boobytraps at every misstep – I can see that the floor I walk on every day is sturdy, reliable… and beautiful. The … More Hamilton Residency 4: rhythm
There is too much to absorb, digest, translate, re-form into something good and relevant, and far too little time. Someone – Leonard Bernstein? referred to this as one of only two things needed to accomplish Great Things. But when, as my marvellous friend Maria puts it on Wednesday, “every minute of my time is accounted … More Impossible.
There’s nothing new. But there is a new urgency I can’t ignore or discount – to do so would be futile, and frankly, cowardly. It appears that I’ve come to a place of no return with critical parts of my life that have always been up for negotiation. Like the movement of tectonic plates, a … More Rage like a mountain
There’s no other way to heal, I think. I’ve read this many times. It is lodged in my blood now, where it often sings me awake at night, sometimes until dawn. It is in my belly too, still mostly undigestible. The difficulty lies in the difference between what my heart reads and what my head … More internal inquiry into a considered response
There’s a perfect stillness in this house. A resting of all the places that will later see activity, development, growth. I need this calm like a desert wanderer needs shelter and green; somehow my little house knows and holds me like a mother would, gentle and strong. What to say? Good lord and lady but … More Thank You.
