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Warm Honey
2006

We've had snow for about two months now. Every now and then I'll see something that I find strikingly beautiful about the winter...the way the sun sends the sky into brief spams of intense colour for the few moments before night hits full on, or the way the stars look so close, scattered by the millions across a charcoal black expanse.

But to be honest, most of the time it's just cold. Or slushy. And not just wet, slushy, but dirt slush. Everywhere.

Right now I dream of warm, long summer days, lying under a huge, leafy tree, the sun dappling my skin in soft kisses.

I conveniently forget the scorching blaze that hammers oppressively on the head, filling the house with pent up fire that emanates all through the sticky, sleepless night.

But enough of reality! This is a painting about bees, which I like. And honey, which I love. The absence of summer makes my heart grow fonder, and in my dreams it is perfect. Just like an ex-lover, summer is the one that got away.

Seasons Change
24" x 18"
Mixed Media
on Canvas
2006

At the time I began this piece, the summer was just beginning to make way for the golden hues of Fall. I had made a number of trips to Southern Alberta in the weeks before this work started and I saw a number of crows, ravens, redwing blackbirds, etc sitting on posts and trees on the roadside. Wherever I stopped, there was a corvid looking at me.

The background is taken from a spot along the Belly River. It is a lush valley in the midst of a sunbaked landscape and the trees there are usually the last to turn. The Belly River also flows though Reservation land and in my daydreaming I had a vision of a Black Bird representing the people. It made me think of those photographs and drawings of the slow creep of European paraphernalia into the dress and costume of the Native Americans at the time, and how odd and out of place those tokens seem. I wanted to accentuate that by dressing the figure like one of those pictures, retaining the nobility amidst the absurdity.

The changes were coming, and were as apparent as the changing colours in the land, but if the change was into a wintery, desolate time, then it is easy to recall that the snow gives way and spring comes again. As surely as the sun rises, the seasons change.

White Raven
Acrylic, Gold Leaf
& Mixed Media
on Canvas
18" x 24"
2006

This is the instant before the Raven takes the Sun into his mouth and he, and the world, are changed forever. Ravens represent a conduit to the supernatural, a bridge from our world to the next. In my imaginings, the Raven stole the moon and sun from the spirtual plane and brought them into our world. In the process of bringing the sun to us, he was burned black, and so is covered in soot like a cloak that gives corporeal form. Underneath that thin layer, however, still resides the white spirit, full of raw energy and power.

Morning Sigh

Last week I awoke to a misty, soft morning full of silence and surreal beauty. The crunch of the snow under my feet seemed like the whisper of a gentle confidant.

Lady
Mixed Media
5" x 7"
2006

Unexpected Thunder
36" x 48"
Mixed Media on Canvas
2006

Walking in the morning mist, a silent forest suddenly erupts with the sound of wind and thunder!

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Thanks to everyone who came out to the Bearclaw Gallery on Saturday. It was a lot of fun meeting new people and having some really great conversations. Of course, thanks to the Bearclaw Gallery for hosting.

The Bearclaw Gallery Celebrates
A Holiday Season Show
December 2nd-10th, 2006

Meet artists Jane Ash Poitras and Aaron Paquette
Dec 2 from 2-4 pm

Come on out to the show tomorrow. I popped in today and saw some really beautiful work by Jane Ash Poitras and Linus Woods. Make an afternoon of it and check in on the other galleries in the area as well!

ICON
5" x 7"
Encaustic, Oil Pastel
and Gold Leaf
on Canvas

As an addition to my Raven series, I've created an Iconic image of the Raven, the burning Sun still held in his blackened beak.

Imminent Save
digital photo
2006

In Canada, we keep the age-old tradition of Street Hockey alive, come rain or snow. Most of us are average at best, but for a couple hours on a Saturday afternoon we are all transformed -for a brief moment- into superstars.

The End of September
Alberta Foothills
west of Jasper

To relieve the whiteness outside my window, I've been flipping through these photos of warm days and gentle evenings.

Raven's Lament
7 1/2" x 5 1/2"
Mixed Media
on Paper
2006

The myth of How The Raven Stole The Sun tells us that Raven once had beautiful white plumage that glowed with it's clean brilliance. When he stole the sun, however, he was burned very badly by the heat and became the black bird we know today.

I was thinking about how proud Raven must have been of his incandescent feathers, and how he must have despaired when he lost it to feathers of night and shadow. If he was burned so badly, he must have been in terrible pain as well, his body throbbing with red fire. Beyond the story, I found myself dwelling on the lessons the story gives me in life. His curiosity burned him, yes, but the Raven also performed an incredible task and brought light to the world. Sometimes, when a deed seems too daunting to finish, or the finishing of it exhausts us and the pain is so great we could cry, it is then when we grow the most. It's then that we become stronger and clearer, self-absorption slipping away.

In the midst of our lament, we are marked and made different, and it can be like life is brand new. The difference betwwen night and day; white and black. Raven's lament is balanced on the cusp of the old and new, it is the all important Moment.

First Morning
6 1/2" x 6"
Mixed Media
on Paper
2006

The sooty blackness begins to take over the Raven's feathers, his burning fades as the world is bathed by the light of it's first dawn. Why am I exploring this story so slavishly? I have hundreds of sketches, working on dozens of paintings...the Raven is invading my dreams. I don't know what I am learning, and that itself is a little disorienting.

That Old September Moon
7 1/2" x 6"
Mixed Media
on Paper
2006

The Raven Steals The Moon and the Sun...and gets his once white feathers burned to a crisp...

I imagine this story to be similar to the Prometheus myth, and so I was thinking about what the pyschological impact of the experience would be. I would guess that it would take an already interesting pysche to perform the task, and so the aftermath state might be one of black humour, confusion, regret, desperation, pain, humiliation, pride...all wrapped up in the night under a full September moon.

Lightbringer
8 1/2" x 6 1/4"
Mixed Media
on Paper
2006

I have been painting a series of Red Ravens, trying to delve into the different aspects of the Raven's character, especially immediately following the theft of the Sun and his subsequent burning. In the story, he goes from having gorgeous white feathers to charred, sooty black feathers. I have imagined him in transition, the pulsing, screaming throb of his burns elevating each of his personality traits to a sublime level, be it madness, brooding or heroic in nature.

Here the Raven sits like a king or prophet, enthroned in his own dignity, fully aware of his loss and living with his pain. It actually reminded me of the look of selfessness on the face of people when they have given everything they can and are asked for more. They can either refuse or they can pull out strength from unknown sources; depending on God, or the universe, or their own spirit for the endurance to take one more step, last one more hour, or lift one last burden.


There is a rare desperation there, and a rare dignity.

Line Rider

We Were Wolves (The Lacroix Commission)
24" x 36"
Mixed Media
on Canvas

2006

This painting was commissioned as a gift from a good husband to a good wife on the event of her graduation. I was honored to do it. The guide for this piece was the creation story of the Dogrib people.

The Return
8" x 6 1/2"
Mixed Media on Paper
2006

I've been working on a series of Red Ravens for the past couple of months. I am drawing from the legend of "Raven Steals the Sun and Moon". So far I've done about a dozen and plan on continuing to explore the images and pathways this venture takes me on.

Spirit Guide Redux (detail)

A painting is never finished. I've gone back and reworked ideas and images subtly, or in this case, dramatically. The original background on this piece was a solid, pale apple green that at the time I felt conveyed the shimmering, surreal emotion of the piece...and still do, as a matter of fact. However, I had an impulse to get my brush back on it and do something different, something more. It's gone now, so it's been saved from further re-workings. I also altered the face, making it more gentle and feminine.

The postive of this idea (that a painting is always a work in progress) is that I get to continually explore the ideas and feelings of a concept. The negative is that I often have people waiting for work that becomes a bit overdue. Somewhere in the middle is where I end up, and I think that's best...a longing for more exploration, and a finality, saying, "Done! Enough! Let's move on to other questions now!"

And so I do.

Spirit Guide Redux
40" x 48"
Mixed Media
2006

In Quiet Wood
12" x 16"
Mixed Media on
Canvas

I Heard The Leaves Fall
9" x 12"
Mixed Media on
Canvas

I spent a good part of the last month out in the woods at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. There are places where it seems as if no man had ever come upon it, and the forest is still and silent and golden, the water a tapestry of still movement weaving into and over itself in unseen eddies and currents, the surface deceptively placid and calm. If you sit still enough, for long enough, the wildlife will reappear, but in this exact moment it feels as though you are alone with the wood and the wide world, golden light filtering through bough and branch kissing your face with soft fingertips of autumn warmth.

As High as The Ego Soars

I have to admit, there's nothing more strange and uplifting than to see your name and work in something you had no part in creating.

As other artists will agree, we toil away at our obsessions in isolation, and it is almost shocking to look up and see that someone has noticed what we've been doing. A taste of acceptance and confirmation...dangerous stuff. Personally, I suddenly found myself reviewing my work and wondering if I couldn't have done a better job of it.

"That shading there...why did I do it that way? I should have added an undertone of blue. Now everyone will know that I did it wrong!!"

Or maybe that's just the fear of a closet perfectionist. But what are artists anyway, after all?

But all that aside, here's a shot of the magazine and the article by Clint Buehler.

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Shoe, Little Crow! Shoe!

If you haven't yet seen his work, I'd like to give you a link to artist Brian Jungen. He's a fairly prolific artist and he does more of the conceptual type of work that I really admire.

One of his projects has been working on a series of pieces that reflect his West Coast ancestry using deconstructed Nike Shoes as the medium. I'll post one link, but if you do a search, he's got a lot of exposure out there, even a wikipedia entry! Very neat stuff:

Brian Jungen