Blog

As we start to head towards the end of January, I realize that I’m overdue for a painting checkup via my blog. I’ve been keeping busy with my work and my walks, although I’m not walking nearly as much as I’d like. For most of this month, it seemed that I simply ran out of daylight, so I would scoot over to the pond to get at least a half hour outside and check on the geese before the evening crept in. There have been sightings of bald eagles near the pond and I even spotted a beaver a while ago but haven’t seen him since. Seeing nature firsthand is crucial to feed that artist part of me – you never know when you’ll see a deer or a migrating swan or the light hitting the pond just right, so it all turns into pure gold.

Bald Eagle at the pond 

January has been spent varnishing, photographing, framing, sketching, painting, and researching future exhibitions. I’ve reexamined some of my older work that has never been shown; some were worth cleaning and restoring to their former glory, complete with new varnishes and new frames. It’s amazing how the right frame can change a painting’s entire appearance.

"Power Point" 24" x 30" Acrylic on canvas. Old frame left; New frame right

One of the themes that has run through my work over the years has been the idea of animals witnessing nature. Of course, they are IN nature so they can’t avoid witnessing it, but I tend to think of animals as individuals, rather than anonymous specimens. They feel the sun, the heat, the wind, the cold; they notice other species, whether visible or through more subtle signs. They all come from families of some sort, and many form bonds and friendships. When I observe a fox, a goose, or a wild horse, I’m trying to understand how they feel, what motivates them, what their inner lives might be like. I’m limited by my own human mind, which is why, I suppose, I’ve always used art as a means of understanding other animals.

I love it when the pond strikes gold

It’s interesting that two of my older works, “Salty Dog” and “Sirius”, portray animals looking intensely at something in the distance. “Sirius” was an expression of how I felt when I searched the night skies. Stargazing on cold Ontario nights inspired me to try my hand at a nocturnal painting. It was mostly from memory, and it only made sense to place a coyote in my stead as the canid looking toward the dog star Sirius, found in the constellation Canis Major.

"Sirius" 9" x 12" acrylic on panel

“Salty Dog” was from a trip to Newfoundland; my sister and I were walking on the pebbled beaches of Trepassey, along the southern shores of the Avalon Peninsula when this hound made a friendly approach, wagging his tail. He made it clear that he wanted something, but he wouldn’t come any closer; he ran to the water, then back again, to us. With a flash of insight, I picked up one of the many stones on the beach & threw it out into the water – & he joyfully plunged in. It was exactly what he wanted! These are my experiences that make paintings.

"Salty Dog" 8" x 14" Acrylic on panel

 My most recent painting follows the same theme. “Sliver of the Moon” came about on one of our Assateague trips in late October. I spent the last hour of the day observing and photographing the paint mare known as Susi Sole with her consort stallion Delegate’s Pride (aka Chip). The light was perfect, I kept my distance, and the horses continued to graze and forage as if I wasn’t there. I loved watching Chip with his long mane, head buried for the most part in the grasses. One of my previous paintings of Chip was also a result of this golden hour. 

"Wild As The Wind" 11" x 14" Oil on panel

But I was really fascinated by the mare; she spent a lot of time gazing out over the dunes. I assume she saw something - I suspect it was a deer - but I can’t be positive. I felt that she was very peaceful, content. It was one of the best hours I’ve ever spent, watching the mare witness nature, the colours shifting with the light – all those yellows and pinks, blues and purples – shining and reflecting off the horses. The following January, this mare produced a beautiful filly. I can’t help but think that this was the reason why it was such a tranquil moment. That little slice of new crescent moon symbolizes fertility.

"Sliver of the Moon" 20" x 10" Oil on linen panel

Nature has always given me these little slices of perfect moments that I can turn into paintings. Its gifts abound. I had to smile at myself on my walk today. As I made my way along the bank of the pond, I could see the reflection of the waxing half-moon shimmering in the water. It was following me, just as it always has.

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