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Available Original Art for Purchase
Arranged in alphabetical order (Note: NW = current work from the last several years; EW = early work)
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At the Take Out (EW)
24x48, acrylic and collaged paper on wood-framed canvas $3260 Three beached canoes at the end of an Algonquin excursion with our daughters and some friends. There's something so raw, so humbling and good about paddling through heavy rain, cold and wind. Perspective is offered. Well-being is a gift you do not take for granted. |
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#beloved (EW)
120x144, acrylic on 3 birch panels; includes separate frame $10,000 This 3-panelled large work is intended for a large, public space and invites the viewer to settle in its centre, held and loved. Read more about this installation HERE on the Collaborations page. |
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Born Again (NW) 40x16, acrylic and collaged papers on canvas $1760 The pursuit of understanding one's world and the ways we belong in it are complex and, at times, confusing or even surprising. Along the way, changes bring us to a new way of being that are often imperceptible, and yet, here we find ourselves, trying to figure out how we ended up in a place that suddenly feels this unexpected and foreign. In these times of upheaval, the things we thought were secure and reliable no longer seem this way. Interrogation is good. Skepticism is necessary. But we still must find places to land. I turn to the ones who have overcome obstacles and upheaval time and time again. The small but tenacious house sparrow is one such teacher. So, little sparrows, I applaud you! Build your nests in those abandoned spaces that others have deemed unlivable. Inhabit and begin again, amidst the rubble, amidst the noise and chaos, in the face of uncertainty. Nest, lay your eggs, raise your young, squabble and make your opinions loud and clear. You are my tutors. |
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Cadence: The Rhythm of Sounds (NW) 10x18, diptych - acrylic and embroidery thread $540 This tiny female housesparrow traverses through the night skies in a characteristic undulating flight pattern as drawn in by the embroidered thread. These shiftings of creatures are hidden to most of us, but if you could see in the dark you would see the skies are alive with movement. |
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Celebration and Sorrow Dance the Tango (NW) 12x16, mixed media on Arches watercolour paper glazed on to canvas $500 Exploring the complex both/and realities of our world. |
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Descant (NW)
36x52, triptych - acrylic on 3 canvases (Note: middle canvas is gallery wrap, the two flanking canvases are regular wrap, allowing the central canvas to stand) $3275 "The prefix, des-, meaning 'two' or 'apart' indicates that the descant is a second song apart from the main melody. A counterpart. The art of composing or improvising contrapuntal part music." The title suitably describes the disruption/invitation of these last few years. I've found myself improvising around the melodies I've once believed were complete. Launching into a descant is pure joy to hear, like a thrilling crescendo to a familiar tune, but horrible if not done right. It still much work with the melody. |
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Dissolving Borders (NW) 36x24, acrylic on wood-framed canvas $2475 The European house sparrow has taken over North American urban spaces since the late 1800’s; they have “naturalized”. Most people don’t think twice about them though they have pushed out native bird species. And who doesn’t love the noble Friesian horse? Of course we would welcome the Friesians! This spring we celebrated the life of my father. His memoirs describe his immigration which included the same searching questions I wonder about today: Who gets to thrive? Who shapes the places we live in? My father leaned generously toward justice and compassion; his was a life of dissolving borders rather than creating them. And yet. Imagine a world without borders! We need them. We protect our borders in much the same way we hope they protect us. Yet, even these constructs refuse rigidity. Borders offer dubious protection after all. Painting Dissolving Borders gave me room to think about these complex realities. |
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Encounters With the Divine (We Wrestle) (NW) 30x24, acrylic on canvas $1980 These eagle/boat paintings are a series that explore the changing nature of my personal faith. The boat suggests one's life journey and can refer to an individual, community or even our society. Engaging with these boats is the eagle, the Mysterious One, God. I hesitate to suggest that I wrestle to the extent that i am completely upended as in this image, adrift in disembodied space. It is a completely outrageous situation. No paddle, no water or current to counter razor sharp talons attached to the one who masters the air. I don't know how this encounter will turn out. The boat could very well crash into a thousand sponters after a long descent. But what if it were, instead, a dance in rarified air; a playful exchange of environments? Perhaps the canoe is freed from the constraints of gravity and flow and actually enjoys a version of flight as long as the eagle is near it? i have no idea. |
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Gift From the Sky Gift From the Land Gift From the Water (NW) 8x10, acrylic on birch panel $395 each (currently on display at the Fernie Arts Station) Three simple, small studies that remind me of essential things. I intentionally seek these postures that open my heart to see such gifts, again and again. |
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Glimpses of Blue (NW)
36x12, acrylic on canvas $1290. As is often the case in my studio practice, a painting is generated by something I am ruminating one. This, then, is a process painting. I had no idea where it would lead me. The thing about a painting of this nature is that you have to trust it. The painting leads, not the painter. The nest-like structure at the base was first a boat, a coracle, a nest, a pile of bones, then a nest again. Or perhaps it was a crown of thorns. The lines lead upward, through the sail, to the tiniest blue rectangle situated so close to the top that it might slip right off the canvas. And, it might! This is the precarious nature of hope. It might be out of reach. It could slip right out of our grasp. It asks that we attend to it. In such a process, room is created to think, to remember, to settle into quiet respite despite the lament. It is my way to pray. |
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Good Words to Float My Boat (NW) 12 x x24, acrylic and paper on canvas $860 currently at the Fernie Arts Coop One of several paintings that riff off of the "What Floats My Boat" piece using the written words of many who contributed to the question, "what gives you hope now, in these times?" These words, shared on small sail-shaped papers, make up the single sail with many masts. |
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Heron: A Time for Slow (NW) 36x36, acyrlic, inks, charcoal, papers on wood-framed canvas $3665 A reference to the poet John O'Donohue's words, this is the time for slow. We live in days when it is a time to listen to the elders, to enquire of poets; A time to return to self and get reacquainted ; To inhabit my body and gather by the fires of longing. Re-membering. |
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Heron: Awaken (NW)
24x36, acrylic on wood-framed canvas $2475 As I observe this regal bird, slow flyer, patient hunter, observant, dignified . . . and yet undeniably gangly and awkward, I can't help but think they are much like we humans of all kinds. There is a curious kinship. One of a series on the great blue heron, Awaken looks at the more mythical quality of this bird. Flight between heaven and earth, land and water, the great blue is servant to neither and moves easily from realm to realm. |
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Heron: Contemplative (NW) 24x20 acrylic and Posca pen on canvas $1440 As I observe this regal bird, slow flyer, patient hunter, observant, dignified . . . and yet undeniably gangly and awkward, I can't help but think they are much like we humans. There is a curious kinship. One of a series on the great blue heron, Contemplative looks at the more mythical quality of this bird. Flight between heaven and earth, land and water, the great blue is servant to neither and moves easily from realm to realm. |
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Heron: Through A Veil of Tears (NW) 30x40, acrylic and collaged papers on wood-framed canvas $3100. Because our world is groaning under the weight of injustices and pain. And I will love it. . . for it has loved me, all of it wrapped in imperfection. |
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Heron: Seeker (NW)
(24x48. acrylic and Posca pen on canvas) $3160 As I observe this regal bird, slow flyer, patient hunter, observant, dignified . . . and yet gangly and awkward, I can't help but think they are much like we humans. There is a curious kinship. One of a series on the great blue heron, Seeker embodies yearning. Flight between heaven and earth, land and water, the great blue is servant to neither and moves easily from realm to realm. |
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Herons: We Are Kin; Who Gets to Look Away? (NW) 48x36, acrylic on wood-framed canvas $4420 Who looks; who looks away? A group of herons offers a metaphor for our current times, as we give air to our narratives of faith, politics, war and peace. What we gaze at shapes our inner landscapes, leans us toward one or the other, gives us words that shape landscape. And yet, we are all inescapably part of something larger. For better or for worse, we are intertwined, regardless of the direction of our gaze. I want to think that we can work toward our mutual flourishing. |
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In Good Company (EW)
18x24, acrylic on black framed canvas $1290 In recent years my family journeyed through the unchartered waters of cancer and death. We don’t journey alone, however, but find ourselves in the company of those who keep us afloat through their expressions of love and kindness. A small, vulnerable vessel buoyed up by the greater story of community. |
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In Search of a New Narrative (NW) 30x24, acrylic on black-framed canvas $1980. It seems that so much of what I thought was immoveable, solid and enduring is not. Institutions like the church, government, education are not beyond interrogation after all. They do not have impunity. We get to review, study, examine, investigate, question, even separate. We get to sift through what we once knew -- in fact, it's important that we do so. Some things are desperately in need of re-imagining. |
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Small Cup of Mercy (NW) 16x12, acrylic on canvas $575 I once read a meditation on the word mercy. It was described as a place where suffering and love come together. It has stuck with me and I wanted to give it some room by painting whatever came from it. These are curious experiments for me; they are often quirky but great fun to see unfold. Note the thin red line. "Crossing the Red Line" has come up in the news a lot lately. This story weighed in heavily here. |
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Spring Prayer (EW)
24x12, acrylic on gallery-wrap canvas $860 There were 5 snowstorms that April. I love winter, but I began wearing a flowered scarf just to remind myself that spring would come, that crocuses were forming under all that snow. On a whim, I tied this scarf between the trees and stood back to enjoy the new view. I stared at it for a long time, a feast of promise and colour in what seemed a perpetually grey world. It offered a metaphor. During darker times, these moments open my thoughts to consider what is beyond my immediate view. |
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This Weight We Carry (NW) 48x36, acrylic on unstretched canvas $4320 A painting that honours the grandmothers who give care to those in front of them and behind them; who curl protectively over their young ones, lips moving in prayer, while looking over their shoulder at the feeble and aged, knowing their lives are carried by that same current. It is the current of time, but also of great love. Here, the branches are ever more intricate as they cross borders and span generations. So much weight in one small vessel. |
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Treehugger: Black Cottonwood With Lee-Anne (NW)
64x64, acrylic on 4 separate wood-framed canvases (note: this image has been digitally "stitched" together for easier viewing) $8200 Just west of Fernie, British Columbia, are some of the oldest known cottonwoods in the world. They are protected by the Nature Conservatory of Canada. Lee-Anne is one of those individuals whose heart for wilderness has led her to advocate with both intelligence and passion for sustainable use of our wild spaces. She also happens to be one of my dearest friends in the world. |
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Tumbling Bear (EW)
60x48, acrylic, typographical maps on wood framed canvas $5750 Topo maps shatter as a blue grizzly tumbles through space. What does it look like when our wilderness landscapes are fractured beyond recognition? At what point is it irreparable? We are well aware of the threats, and no one can deny our need for natural resources. These mounting pressures require that we step up intentional strategies so that our beloved planet does not suffocate in our embrace. Knowing movement patterns of various species across landscapes, identifying crucial wild spaces that connect animal and plant populations, and the protection of natural areas, are progressing up the Priority Ladder - at least we hope so. There is hope that the tumbling grizzlies of this world will land on their feet. |
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Verdant Ground (NW) 16x16, acrylic and vintage wallpaper on canvas $760 There is a tree I regularly pass on my way to my studio, a black willow, that catches my eye because of the way the trunk is swept in a twist that seems to have been shaped by the west winds. Sometimes the reason to paint is for the sheer pleasure of the shapes, the colours and the blending of materials to create a new world. |
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What Floats My Boat (NW) 48 x 24, acrylic, paper & markers on birch panel $3160 In response to the pervasive nature of alienation and fatigue, especially post covid, I asked the question, “What gives hope, now, in these times?” I invited anyone I could to share their thoughts on a small, torn piece of paper meant to resemble a sail. Over the months these paper sails found their way back to me. They arrived in envelopes from across Canada, they were shyly handed to me in the grocery store or left anonymously in my studio mailbox. I was moved by their simple candor. Many more arrived than I expected or could use, but every contribution is represented on this painting, either by collage or by scribing the words within the liminal space between the forms. These words, mostly from strangers, were impactful. Reading through these 200+ offerings did not solidify certainty or explain to me how to grasp on to hope, elusive as it is. Hope comes in such a wide range of shapes and sizes, after all; your hope is not necessarily what ignites my hope. But as I read the words, it struck me that hope could be seen as a pace setter, a way maker. Not what, but how. We can ignite it in one another. It is found, together, in community. |