It's odd, but in popular culture artists are portrayed as flaky-crazed individuals who drink too much and worse. But I am never quieter or less crazed than when I'm painting, planning a painting, or thinking about painting, because it requires everything from me, and I'm willing to give it. So for me, doing art is an island of sanity in a strange world. It's the one place I can make sense of what I know but can't put into words. And it's not some exalted knowledge or anything like that. Everybody knows it. But they are equally tongue-tied about these matters. Perhaps they will come across my painting and not just see it, but recognize it. And that is my favourite conversation, because it's something that can occur with people who have very different experiences from me, different beliefs, likes, dislikes and yet, for a moment, we have a little agreement about the human condition. Mi casa, su casa.

 

The rest is about my relationship with the paint. I love everything about the paint. I love the colour, the texture, the smell. I can argue with it, I can push it, but most of all I can trust it. The studio is where I can continue growing this competence. It is also where I can break the bonds (but quietly) of my Canadian couth and restraint. These hands that are gloved most of the year get dirty. Those snowy wastes I find so compelling don't just live outside. It's a wonderful thing to get up in the morning and go colour my world.