Keira McArthur

There is not a tree here the species books would call perfect. They are bent and twisted, storm-broken and shallow-rooted. They share a mere skiff of soil, what sunlight they can reach and make the best of what they have. Ironwood, cedar, birch are the oldest. Sapling maple and ash have found space too, and […]

Veritas. It’s dark down there – difficult to see, to dig and keep digging.  At the bottom of it, when you get there, you find an understanding that changes the shape of your world.     I’ve just watched a film about a young prosecutor with great natural integrity who is working in Frankfurt just […]

I hold Red in my mind and thoughts rise like bubbles. They’re not what I expect. This decision is rooted in fear. I’m stuck in Repeat. I’m bored. Confined.  categorized, manipulated, abused, constricted, driven, exhausted, worried, overstressed, coping. Aren’t we all to some extent.  And isn’t this an essential part of the story. Then another thought rises (after […]

I have two feet’s worth of projects to move from here to over there – from the possible to the more possible pile; to the surprisingly good pile, a few to the “well now I know that won’t work ever” pile.  They all have a best before date; some of which I know, others I’ve […]

This is social media experiment in making art.  As I worked through the process of this painting I wondered whether I could actually describe that process in a series of photos, and tell the story of the piece as it becomes itself.   Might be neato.  I’ve started this with my cover photos on facebook, but […]

I’ve known many…. The trick with the key, the turn of the doorknob, the double beat of the door closing – like permission to lay the day’s burden down.  I’ve had hollers from the back room, running tackles from the dog, slow blink from the cat – but always the awareness that time moves more […]

It’s the kind of snow there’s a constant More of.  The plows and trucks and blowers, out all night long are still going strong at 10am.  Cars slide gently sideways to stop signs. Kids and grown-ups both are thoroughly snow-suited, booted, winter-gloved and touqued as they kick & trudge through piled white, falling white, blowing  […]

Even the loud old fridge is drowned out by straight-down-rain.  Not sheets and thunder and driving – but a rain that will drench us for days, soaking the soil, swelling the creeks, rising the shoreline of Georgian Bay above the sad sorry rocks that appeared this spring, covering their nakedness once again.  It is 12 […]

The studio is dark. I am entirely at peace in this space – made small and comfortable by the light of one candle.  Muffled, intermittent cars drive north or south through slush outside and I stare out my big, arched third floor window at headlights, streetlights, house lights.  The clock ticks like a slow walk. […]

8:30 pm, on the final day of 2012. I’m on the edge of a tiny old quarry in Canada, witnessing a light-battle between the  blazing-hot fire pit and the mostly full moon. It plays out on the foot-deep snow around us – the perfect contrast of indigo and gold. I have no words for this […]

Our covenant with Winter:  that there will be space and time to contemplate, to examine and re-examine,  to be still.  In the rich pianissimo of deep snow, quiet things sing their subtlety, small things hold great significance, and you can see the wind. I cannot imagine a life without this. I awake with the phone […]

There is an ‘absence of me-ness’ in this morning.  What a relief.  Maybe thanks to A.A. Milne: “What day is it?”, asked Pooh. “It’s today”, squeaked Piglet. “My favourite day”, said Pooh. I’ve just cleared off and wiped the table where I sit, so the soft light coming through the south windows in front of […]