This winter I delved into reminiscing over the summer months; walking under the suns heat, watching nature thrive and flourish as I walked. This winter has been tough for us all so I decided to escape into the world of painting. I wanted to share the practical behind the scenes process for my recent painted paddles, as well as a video that puts together some of the process as well as why I choose to paint.
I stand on muddy earth, the forest a thicket of lush green behind me; cedar and hemlock reach to the sky as salal, deer fern, and pink salmon berry flowers stretch across the forest floor. Gentle waves of the deep ocean channel before me hit the steep rocks that create the shore. A regal raven flies above, the wind whistling through his feathers as he soars to a nearby cedar hidden from view. The only hint to his whereabouts are his echoing calls; a mimicked sound of water droplets hitting the creek below. The water travels down the steep bank, weaving through the forest floor, sometimes it's barely a trickle. If I listen closely enough I may hear the whispered hum of a hummingbird, or the blow of a humpback in the distance as they return with the warming spring.
Nothing can explain the excitement you feel when you pack up the car, head out on the road to only unpack it all again and fill its contents into a canoe on the water’s edge. What awaits you is the steady rhythm of paddling as you plunge the wooden blade into the water below, the sound creating a small splash as you propel the canoe forward. Water drips, creating artistic ripples on the calm water’s surface reflecting the world above. The gentle sound of paddle knocking canoe, and creak of your seat ground you to the present. Water and sky surround you. Evenings fill the air with campfire smoke, the chatter of family, and meals that taste divine. A tent zipper signals the end of the day, as bodies snuggle into sleeping bags, whispered goodnights are said and the last mosquito is defeated. Eyes close, and the distant loons sing a sweet and longing lullaby.
I find a sense of peace as I walk on cedar board walks. Through temperate rainforest the ravens call overhead, rain taps the ferns as it falls to the lush ground, the trees open to reveal a stretch of beach calling to be explored. We walk and we walk. My body and my breath find their rhythm with the world again. It‘s just me and nature. Its hard to explain the feeling of authenticity and true presence that overcomes me, but I begin to realize just how far removed we are from the truth of the world.
Your golden light trickles past the breaks in the canopies of aspens and birch, lighting the forest floor in liquid gold. Birds sing their farewell from branches high as they start their migration south. Your cool mornings remind my lungs what breath feels like again, awakening me to the start of a new day. The earth begins to knit its blanket of fallen foliage, tucking in for the season of snow and night. Your winds shake the drying branches, creating elven music which fills hollows and knolls. Earth tones shine in their simplicity and beauty, calling to my painters eyes.
I take in a deep breath to smell pine and wet earth as I trudge along a gravel path that occasionally slips beneath my feet. My pack keeps my back warm against the cold air, the gentle weight of my sketching kit and camera giving my shoulders purpose and strength. The mountains are hidden by clouds; my eye catches on the contrast of the white clouds against the dark grey rock, the stream of water telling of the rain falling high above.
July feels like such a long time ago! I was lucky enough to work in Canmore for the summer months. Being nestled in the mountains is one of my favourite places to be. There’s something about the treelined hills as they gradually grow into mountains that sets my imagination alight. Mornings are crisp in your lungs and evenings light up the sky with sunset hues. I obviously took every opportunity to be outside and took my sketchbook along with me.
