It has been one of those weeks. I am scattered, my thoughts jumping around, my artistic endeavours littered around my studio in various stages of completion. As soon as I decide to put something down on paper another idea takes up residence in my periphery and, before I know it, crowds out the details of what I had decided to focus on only moments before.
I prefer painting from real life over a photograph, it feels more authentic and less like plagiarism even when the pictures are ones I captured myself. This is why I spent the better part of a week visiting the botanical gardens here in Montreal. Oh, and because I love plants and gardens and wild spaces.
The reality of having an address again came to the forefront this week as I started to update my contact details with various institutions. It is funny how the big stuff does not really need a physical location anymore, not with electronic banking, online insurance applications,
My time learning how to snowboard and drawing inspiration from the winter landscape in Quebec’s Laurentian Mountains has come to an end. These past months have brought to the surface memories of snow covered landscapes and life in a francophone community from my childhood in the maritimes.
The end of the ski season is looming nearer, and I spent the past week cramming in hours on the slopes with predictions of, ‘This is probably the last good day of skiing/boarding left!’ repeated from one day to the next.