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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)
ARPEGGIOS WITH FLOWERS (EW/NW)
36 x 60, acrylic and collaged wallpaper & table napkins on weathered wooden framed canvas
This reworked piece is a dialogue between cultures, the shape of our homes, and the stuff it takes to forgive, to learn, and to remain in the conversation. It reflects my longing for households of love that are wise, enduring and brave.
At the Take Out (EW)
24x48, acrylic and collaged paper on wood framed canvas
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.
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)
"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.
Encounters With the Divine (We Ae Prodigal) (NW)
40x16, acrylic on wood framed canvas
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. Here, I consider the word prodigal. Many of us recognize it from the biblical parable of the fellow who ran off early with his inheritance, wasted it and eventually had to return home because there was nothing left. His dad received him back by holding a big party - not at all what anyone was expecting, least of all the son who messed things up.
But this word is very beautiful to consider just as it is. Simply meaning lavish, it suggests such an abundance as to be recklessly wasteful. As in, a dessert prodigal with whipped cream so much so that you cannot even eat it all.
THIS is the real story. The waste of love, of grace, of mercy. The faith I live in today has transformed into something quite different then before. I don't have the certainty I once held. It has been several years of deep upheaval and examination. The gold line between boat and eagle almost touch. Yes, this is my yearning; a magnetic pull toward one another with a thousand prodigal moments
Encounters With the Divine (We Wait) (NW)
24x18, acrylic and collaged paper on canvas
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. We wait - God and me. I imagine God waiting for me as my small craft floats in the liminal space of uncertainty and doubt.
Fern House On Rocks (NW)
12x10, acrylic and papers on birch panel
$300 (currently at www.thelebel.ca)
Another study of the house/rocks image. I enjoyed the exuberance of the house, all fern-ish and organic, yet defined by its traditional geometric shape used to communicate 'home". Is it a tiny home, or are the rocks huge boulders. And just how temporary is this structure? Even so, it is happily stationed and seems to be mighty pleased where it landed.
Goodness, Gentleness and Patience Rest on Main
(EW) 24x36, acrylic on wood framed canvas
What if the great virtues were embodied in regular, everyday folks? I imagine them to look something like these lovely elders. (Can you tell this was painted pre-pandemic?) And I imagine them walking through this life in a way that brings goodness, even when news, politics, health and economy throw us into turmoil. We then look to these ones who exude the virtues. They make us better and I thank them.
I Carry Words (NW)
24x12, crylic and paper on canvas
$795 (currently at www.fernieartsco-op.com )
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?"
I Hear With an Accent (NW)
48x36, mixed media on birch panel
The four paper squares collaged on the left-hand feature my dad's handwriting. Written in Frisian, his native tongue, the words blur from the paper, through the ancient tree and into calligraphic marks off the picture plane - a tribute to my family heritage and an examination of how it has influenced my worldviews. COVID has offered me room and a growing desire to understand the things I have inherited: genetics, beliefs, narratives. What do I embrace because it is good, what do I let go of, what needs further exploration?
36x48, acrylic and gold leaf on wood framed birch panel
Embodiment. To appear in living flesh, fully present. As my imperfect Christian faith evolves, falters and surges, I find myself returning to the incarnation of Jesus. God in human form - this tradition's foundational canon. The calliope hummingbird alights, a momentary jewel, suggesting poetic mystery beyond my grasp.
In Good Company (EW)
18x24, acrylic on black framed canvas
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.
16x16, acrylic,, collaged table napkins on canvas
$640 Currently at www.fernieartsco-op.com
I often drive past a little forgotten grove of black willows that once softened the boxy brick exterior of the old hospital in our community. The hospital has long since been torn down with only the telltale foundational rubble to tell the story. These trees give me great delight as I drive by en route to my studio. The ever-insistant westerlies have nudged their trunks to curve around one another. They are beautiful. I paint them with pleasure.
Spring Prayer (EW)
24x12, acrylic on gallery-wrap canvas
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.
There, a Tree Grew (NW)
14x11, acrylic and collaged papers on birch panel
$385 Currently at www.fernieartsco-op.com
There are black willow all over the community where I live. They are fast growing and have this way of twisting at the trunk according to the prevailing winds. The willow holds both the remarkable ability to adjust to its circumstances and to grow in all kinds of soil. I find them heartening.
The Teacher (EW)
24x30, acrylic, papers on black framed canvas
My hands. The square palms of my father and the deft movements of my mother. I was an art teacher for over 30 years. They have rarely been smooth or paint-free. Like water pouring through my fingers, hand-written notes from students, parents, student-teachers and colleagues, cascade into a bowl-like form, but fail to hold them at all. They are the good, the bad, the funny, and the ones that made me cry - a summary of my life as a teacher. A tribute to this beautiful, messy, and most wonderful profession that has so profoundly shaped who I am.
This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land (EW)
60x48, acrylic on wood framed canvas
Wolves that travel alone have a story to tell. It is not their normal social behaviour. This particular wolf is on a journey, strong west winds at his back as though nudging his steps forward. The mountain range is the Continental Divide separating British Columbia from Alberta, delineating water’s flow east from west. This wolf traverses this great geological phenomenon with ease. Oblivious to political boundaries, these long distance movements along the spine of our beautiful continent establish and maintain new groupings, enriching the gene pool.
Treehugger: Black Cottonwood With Lee-Anne (NW)
64x64, acrylic on 5 separate wood-framed canvases
(note: this image has been digitally "stitched" together for easier viewing)
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.
Tumbling Bear (EW)
60x48, acrylic, typographical maps on wood framed canvas
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.
Verdant Ground (NW)
16x16, acrylic and vintage wallpaper on canvas
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.
What Floats My Boat (NW)
48 x 24, acrylic, paper & markers on birch panel
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.