Biography
My fascination with painting began in my youth, in Montreal, when my teacher insisted
that I take classes at The Redpath Museum with Group of Seven artist, Arthur Lismer.
My parents were thrilled, but the opportunity was wasted on me. Arthur Lismer thought I had a gift for colour, but I was intimidated by his piercing eyes and his wild white hair. I
refused to continue. Oh, to turn back the clock!
Instead, I focused on writing, eventually moving to Vancouver where I graduated from
UBC with an MFA, and then joined the Creative Writing faculty at Douglas College. I
also wrote: novels, plays, short stories, creative nonfiction, children’s literature,
magazine features, and scripts for film, TV, and animation. My novel Heartache and
Other Natural Shocks won a western Canada book award.
Meanwhile, I never gave up on art. I studied painting at the Banff School of Fine Arts,
and participated in workshops with teachers such as Gordon Smith. I had solo and
group exhibits in Vancouver, and my paintings have been shown in galleries and
collections across North America.
When I’m not in my studio, I dance, travel, lose myself in my garden, and cook
sumptuous meals for family and friends. According to my offspring, I cannot text and
talk at the same time, but in all other respects, I am without fault or blemish.
Making Art: Writing versus Painting
I’ve always been intrigued by how the practices of writing and painting are similar and
yet, divergent. On the one hand, like all mythological quests, both require determination,
playfulness, grit, and a ridiculous leap of faith. They take you to places you had no
intention of visiting, and therein lies the adventure, the horror, and the bliss.
Mostly, I find writing “harder.” For me, writing is cerebral, and painting is intuitive. Writing lives in my head; painting lives my body. I know this sounds weird. Let me explain.
When I sit down in front of a blank page to write, I’m never relaxed. Words buzz around
my brain. I talk to myself (apparently, out loud), and sometimes it feels like my head has
been invaded by strangers who have nothing better to do than argue with each other
and mock me, while I attempt to map out scenes and plots. Is this fun? No. But it is
compelling, and when the dialogue flows, and the story takes an unexpected but brilliant
turn, I get fired up. I’m elated – until I hit the next roadblock.
Painting, on the other hand, tends to be more welcoming and spontaneous. When I start
a new piece, I don’t plan or procrastinate. I simply begin with a colour palette, charcoal,
textured papers, or images. Sometimes, a painting arrives like a gift, quickly revealed,
instantly pleasing. Sometimes, I grind away at it for days, or weeks. It’s an obsessive
process, but I’m tenacious.
In both writing and painting, once I enter that trance of creativity, time disappears, the
subconscious mind takes over, and the rest of the world falls away. Ah, bliss!
Collections: Artist's Statement
I invite you to peruse my seven collections: Abstract, The Romantics, Figurative, Out of
the Darkness, Gardenesque, Landscape, Photography, as well as Sold works.
My art is not defined by a single style, medium, or subject matter. I work on canvas or
paper, mostly in mixed media, combining acrylic paint with Japanese rice papers,
charcoal, ink, found objects, and petals from my garden. I have a thing for texture.
Playing with materials, and working intuitively, gives me a sense of freedom that I rarely
find outside the studio.
My subject matter is influenced by memory, mythology, dreams, love, loss, and
especially, nature. I am profoundly moved by the Pacific coastal environment: its
secluded beaches, tidal pools, ancient forests, and the ocean. Here, I find spirituality,
mysticism, beauty, and even peace of mind.
My painting style leans toward abstract expressionism. Landscape and figurative
elements inform my imagery, but the work is usually gestural and loose. I’m primarily
interested in mood, sensuality, and the spirt of things, but even a purely abstract
painting can be inspired by real places. For example, “River Breaking Free” may not
look like an actual river, but it has the explosive tension of ice breaking up in a spring
thaw.
I believe that engaging with a painting should be like having a great conversation. Do
you love the colour? Does the painting evoke a childhood memory? Does it make you
laugh (see: “Born to Shop”)? Do you keep coming back to it? Ultimately, falling for art is
like falling in love: the heart wants what it wants.
Finally, a few words about my recent collections: The Romantics and Out of the
Darkness. At first glance, these appear to be polar opposites. The Romantics is a
refuge of beauty filled with light, flowers, dresses, and sensuality; pretty but not
sentimental (I’m not a fan of “cute”). You might label me as a romantic idealist, and I
won’t argue, but I’ll also point you toward the darkness.
Out of the Darkness is my response to world events, violence, the oppression of
women, the loss of critical thinking, and the loneliness and despair I see in a society
where people spend more time with phones than friends. We live in dark times,
however, darkness can be fecund and powerful. Darkness is the soil in which dreams,
stories, reckoning, and the seeds of new ideas grow. Descending into the cave is a
transformative journey. Romance and Darkness need each other, like light and shadow.
I embrace them both.