The painting is done, it has been shipped. And now I wait for it to arrive at its destination. I don’t know if you will like it, perhaps it’s not what you expected. No matter the outcome, I want you to know the story behind it. ….

Brushstrokes

This painting is for an old friend, someone I have always thought of in high regards. We never knew each very well but I met her during the most innocent time of my life. Early elementary. It was a time where my father was alive, where the worst thing I knew was loosing my marbles in a marbles game, where I had too many friends to pick from at recess, a time where things were simpler and emotions easy to understand. It is why I started this painting with white and primary colors.

But this period in time, this memory, is also attached to the memory of my father dying when I was only 11. Even though I had moved and you were not in my life at this time, I had to include it, the black. The pain feeds the good memories, it makes them stand out.

We met again 5 years later, in high school. 5 years is such a short time but the differences in me were astronomical. Looking at you reminded me how much I had changed, how much I had lost, how much I was broken. You were good, you were where I wanted to be, and you were impossible to reach. You were primaries and I was now the opposite. I was orange, purple and green. Secondary colors.

In the end, this painting is inspired by feelings and the colors they are linked to. It is nothing and it is everything. It is a story, a life, a relationship. The constants and the glimpses. It is convoluted and quite simple. The brushstrokes are smooth, some brisk, some well thought out, and others spontaneous. They represent the days you existed in my life. Over a thousand. A short time really, but impactful. Looked upon fondly, no matter how brief and how distant. Up close or from afar: The strokes are seen, the impact is felt.

This painting is for Tamara.

There’s much I keep meaning to do
Much I write but never finish
Paintings I mean to paint
Exercise I put off
Photographs I don’t share

I jump from thought to thought
Never present enough to expand
Leaving action in limbo

This winter has been hard. It snowed early and (for disability reasons) I found myself trapped in the house sooner then imagined. I have been, basically, hibernating since November. 

The lack of sun, and human contact has turned me into a hermit.
I have become detached and depressed.

Last winter I painted on a regular basis and it kept me sane and content. Happy even. This year I hadn’t lifted a brush … until someone asked for an original.

This painting has been my saviour these past few weeks.
It’s like finding purpose again. A weight lifted and I stood

I’m not sure exactly what you want, but be certain lots of thoughtfulness has gone into it.

I am not ready to reveal it yet, but also anxious to do so.
So here is a sneak peak of an extremely happy, colourful, abstract painting. Shown here, in its entirety, with lack of color. 

These brushstrokes
Are part of many, of thousands
Yet they stand out, they are unique
Destined and impulsive
And inspired by color.

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I had this peaceful view for a very short time when we stayed at a chalet up north,

I was able to ride my wheelchair to the bottom of the hill.

Then use my cane to walk very slowly and very carefully to the end of the dock,

Where I planted my tripod and fell to my knees.

I stayed there for a while

Watching the ripples in the water, and the trees gently swaying 

Listening to the frogs croak and the leaves ruffling in the wind

And then angling my camera for a shot

The joy, peace, and serenity from this time were intertwined with the sadness, fear and realization of my situation. It truly was a beautiful, thoughtful and poignant moment

….

I really hope this wasn’t my last time …

At the end of a dock