Alaska Calling! Part 3: 1,200 miles of further exploration

“Simply look with perceptive eyes at the world about you, and trust to your own reactions and convictions. Ask yourself: "Does this subject move me to feel, think and dream? Can I visualize a print - my own personal statement of what I feel and want to convey - from the subject before me?” ~Ansel Adams

A variety of events have happened in the last month that precipitated a journey. A journey for many reasons. A journey of necessity. Oftentimes things happen and we just know that we have to go; to explore, to commune, to be inspired, to make connections, and simply to expand our minds with a different landscape. 

It was such that I found myself back in Alaska. Back to where a piece of me will always be. Now, perhaps I would sing a different tune if I wintered in Alaska, but I have a feeling my love for the place would grow even more as a result. 

These past few months have been filled with work towards my solo painting exhibition on Newfoundland, another place that I am deeply connected with. The work is coming along well, I am pleased with what has come out of the studio so far. Yet, I have been dealt a hand of cards that enabled me to travel for a time back to the North, to hike in the wilderness, to make new friends at a wedding in the Interior, and to generally continue my exploration of the 49th state. 

It took two days to get to Alaska this time, due mostly to a security issue at JFK en route to Salt Lake City, my connecting city to take me to Anchorage. 

Bedhead and preparing to catch a flight to Anchorage from my hotel room in Salt Lake City, Utah

Some tools of the trade needed for the Wrangells: ice axes, bear mace, trekking poles and sleeping pad

Here is a map of our route through Wrangell-St. Elias National Park

So the plan was to drive to Delta Junction to a fantastic wedding on a 1,600 acre ranch, then drive back down to McCarthy and Kennicott, leaving to hike and camp in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park for a few days, ending off with a night camping near Valdez. Thus, much preparation was needed. We assembled food, gear, maps, directions etc and headed out: we would cover 1,200 miles in just over a week, through some of the most beautiful land I have ever seen. 

There is a beauty and serenity to be found in the process of reaching a place. If we were immediately transported to a destination, would we appreciate it as much? There's something to be seen in each curve of the road, because really, each moment and each mile along the highway is a destination too, or could be, depending on your plans and how flexible your itinerary is. To this end I made sure to keep my camera shooting and relished each hour as we made our way down to Glennallen and then turning north up through the Alaska Range, up into Delta Junction where the Alaska Highway begins, and down to the farm where Joe and Anna were getting married. 

The Matanuska Glacier 

Michael and I stopped briefly at the Matanuska Glacier and then continued on down the highway, stopping periodically to witness storm fronts crawling across the sky, stretching and generally appreciating the drive. 7 hours passed quickly with so much to see and experience. 

Driving towards Glennallen

The weather in Alaska is very changeable, very! 

By the road near Castner Glacier for a brief rest. The flowers were blooming and the weather was perfect.

Travel and exploration makes me thirsty and also slakes my creative thirst at the same time. It is a double-edged sword of inspiration and longing too. This rare quality that at once makes you want to experience more and yet also stop to capture that magic and transfuse it into your work is one that I cling to and try to chronicle in these photographs. Whether I do paintings from them is irrelevant: it is the emotion and inward movement of the heart and mind that is important here. It is the mental reference and the impression on your soul that becomes food for later creative efforts. 

The landscape in the Interior near Delta Junction flattened out a lot. It was quite surreal.

This farm was near where the wedding took place. You can see mountains from the Alaska Range in the distance. I loved the vibrant ochre of the fields here.

Traveling from an area so mountainous into an area almost flat beyond belief was quite a shock. It felt like we might be in Wyoming or some state in the lower 48. We marveled at how remote the farm was...off-the-beaten-path was an understatement! The driveway to the farm was even 1.5 miles long!

I like how the sign for the wedding was right next to the one emphasizing how darned remote the location was! 

Joe and Anna's wedding had folks arriving from far and wide. I met a lot of wonderful folks from Fairbanks to Oregon to Anchorage to Juneau. Everyone was welcoming and the ceremony was just beautiful! 

Such big skies! This is the path that led to the campground and area where the ceremony took place.

Here are some of the tents set up where the dinner and reception would take place

The entire wedding weekend was superbly organized with everyone setting up their tents and getting comfortable, helping out and generally enjoying one another's company. I kept feeling pulled towards the open expanse of air and space of the property...fields as far as the eye could see, large swathes of emptiness and also filled with life and nature buzzing all about, from the mosquitoes to the bees. It was quite remarkable and a far cry from my small, dark studio that I had left only a few days before. I took a few walks out to a crossroads of fields, 360 degrees of solitude and the quiet thrum of activity a field away.

This evening was the Summer Solstice...so the sun never really set..it was disorienting and that added to the magical quality of it all. Here you can see guests setting up in one of the fields.

I spent a good deal of time out photographing flowers, bees, the skies, and new friends. You never know what will catch your fancy, like these bluebells.

Never before had I witness such a magnificent transition of light and time. Being up North really messed with my circadian rhythm. I did not know whether I was hungry or full, waking up or ready to sleep, winding up or winding down. This inner sensational schism perhaps added to the intensity of experience there, to the appreciation of that unique time and place. One thing is certain: it was one of the most special weddings I had ever been fortunate enough to attend. 

I was amazed at the colour variations in the waning light that never waned entirely.

A mist appeared around 2am.

The next day people awoke and made preparations for the ceremony at 3pm. The ceremony itself was fantastic. A poem by Pablo Neruda was read that moved me to tears. It was really quite emotional and Anna looked radiant in particular. It was wonderful to see everyone happy and rejoicing in that beautiful place.

Everyone gathered for a great meal after the ceremony, the skies provided an exciting backdrop!

Greta, Ken and John (aka Slim Pickin') performed during the ceremony and afterwards at the

reception. They were fantastic! You can see their MySpace page here.

The band sets up before performing at the reception.

I enjoyed shooting a few pictures in black and white. It really helps you to see things

differently, placing more of a focus on value than colour.

We spent two nights at the farm near Delta Junction. It was the perfect beginning to another adventure that would follow: a few days spent hiking in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, a park larger than the country of Switzerland! Thus the wedding weekend was a lovely counterpoint to the rugged landscape in store for us in the upcoming days. Each guest received a green mug to hold one of the money home brews on tap at the wedding. At one point Joe said that they would have their 10 year reunion at the farm again and that as long as you had your mug you could enter. I'll hold on to my mug!

I was determined to take away as much from my time in Alaska as possible. My time spent there this summer has lit a fire inside; I am thinking that perhaps a period of time spent working on paintings up in The Yukon or Alaska might be a great opportunity. It will take resources, time and planning but I have started to formulate the idea in my mind and I think it will come to pass. Who knows how the energy of the North might influence my work? The landscape is unmistakably beautiful up there, yet it is those connections with people who gather there, who make it what it is through community and relationships, THAT is what makes places unforgettable...the rest is a gorgeous stage. It is the players that matter most. Connection is everything because everything is connected.  

“Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together." ~Anais Nin

"Self-Portrait, Inside"

“How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people.”~Albert Einstein

"Self-Portrait, Inside", oil on panel, 8"x24", is a reflective piece, literally and metaphorically. My reference photos were taken right next to a window, but without direct sunlight, hence the darkened interior behind me and the brightness on my skin. 

I have been painting a lot of exteriors lately; coastlines, skies and greenery have been on the easel because of the upcoming Portraits Of Newfoundland show in November. I suppose I gave myself a bit of a test...would I crave to return to the figure? I let it happen of its own accord and, not surprisingly, back I came.

My next two pieces are quite personal, hence the self-portrait. This is the first piece. A simple painting really, but with hints of something else underneath. After spending so much time in the fresh beauty of the outside world recently, I am looking at that dichotomy of desire between a life spent at the easel inside and the the tests and trials one undertakes when home is a distant and abstract concept.  That balance between wanting to be outside exploring and embracing the elements must be balanced with that equal enthusiasm to convey those memories by expressing oneself as authentically as possible with the paint. I love each equally. They provide a wonderful counterpoint to one another. This good fortune does not go unnoticed and each day I am thankful for all of it.

I am going to show a couple of shots of the painting in process here. I think it is a great opportunity to look back and see how the painting has shaped, changed, refined and worked itself out. I apologize for the blurry shots.

After the first painting session

I wanted to try to convey a luminosity in the flesh in this painting. Light colours are fun to paint, especially white, because there is such a variety of colours found within it. So here I was blocking in colour and trying to develop a base layer of flesh tone but with variety as well.

There is so much examination that must be done with painting--a constant re-assessment of line, shape, colour and tone. Sometimes I am guilty of not looking at the reference enough and that's when errors happen. So there are a number of things that are occuring all at once: checking  the accuracy of the shape/form/line, mixing the accurate colour of paint AND applying it correctly. 

After the second painting session

The most progress was made between the second and final painting sessions. I would gather that I spent about 20 hours on this painting, give or take. When is a painting finished? It is never finished. It is up to the artist to draw the line, as it were. What I really wanted to do was to bring the outside inside through the reflection in my eyes. 

Sometimes I notice that the colour that I mix on my canvas is not the same as the one that goes on the panel. I know this is an impossibility, because it is the same colour, but it shows how much surrounding colours have an effect on the pigment you apply...it is quite unbelievable to me actually. I will mix a colour, compare it with the reference, and then transfer it to the painting, however, when placed next to paint already on the canvas it changes, it surprises me and I need to remix. Doesn't it show how everything is relative; that everything is connected and and each colour/thing/person is dependent on surroundings/people/culture to be true and accurate? Perhaps I am stretching it here but I think there is some truth to that. It is a tiny example of a larger picture, and perhaps I can learn a lesson or two by applying paint on my canvas as well as applying these principles to daily life too. 

This is a closer shot of the final painting

This painting will be at Abbozzo Gallery for the OSA In The GTA show happening  in July, 2009. The Ontario Society Of Artists is a fantastic organization promoting Ontario-based artists. This exhibition will involve several galleries in the Greater Toronto Area. Below is some information about the exhibition.

OSA In The GTA

July 9-26th, 2009

Abbozzo Gallery 

Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception July 9th 7-9pm

I hope to see you at the opening reception!

“It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment” ~Cicero

Alaska Calling! Part 2: Exploring Hope and Gull Rock

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.”~Albert Einstein

I think that experiences needs to ferment, to distill within your mind, until suddenly you appreciate them again with a fresh and renewed energy that only comes with the passage of time. I am still turning over journeys from months ago in my subconscious. Only now can I start to assimilate the variables together to see how it might manifest in a creative capacity through paintings or writings. I suppose the key is to not rush this but simply let it happen of its own accord. After spending some important time outdoors, in the elements, I can feel that influence starting to seep into my paintings, yet it is not fully articulated yet. I am not sure how it will transpire, but the Newfoundland exhibition of paintings will be a good indicator in this litmus test of sorts. 

The day after climbing Bird Ridge near Anchorage we set out to hike to Gull Rock, a small and isolated campground at the end of a mostly flat 5.5 mile hike near the town of Hope. It is about 2.5 hours from Anchorage to Hope I believe, but we stopped to photograph moose, fast flowing rivers and other panoramas en route so that time might be a bit inaccurate.  

A typical scene in Alaska but one that never ceases to catch your breath.

On our way we stopped to have a look down at this frigid, clear river with the mountains

 peering over our shoulders of course

At this time of year in Alaska you have a lot of flexibility in terms of when you reach your destination. The sun goes down around 11:30pm so you can arrive later in the day and still accomplish everything you set out to do. Such was the case this day when we arrived in Hope to have a look around at about 4pm. It was quiet, with a few people walking up the main street, some RVs parked in some angled spaces nearby, some quaint shops, a little art gallery, a pub, a coffee shop. We didn't stay long as we wanted to get hiking but it was a nice little rest stop on the way. I have learned quickly in Alaska that if you don't have a supply of soy milk with you, you're out of luck. Powdered soy milk was the one thing I had forgotten to buy in Burlington before departing for Anchorage. Never underestimate the smallest creature comfort! 

The town of Hope

It wasn't a long drive from Hope to reach the trailhead. We shouldered our packs and set out. On the way we wrote in a little register that logs who walks in, when they walk out and any other observations such as bear sightings. We didn't see anything too ominous on there and signed in. In a moment of fear I imagined some nasty bear confrontation after which I wouldn't be signing out of the ledger but that moment quickly passed. There were a lot of people near the trailhead: campers at their campsites, a couple on a bike, hikers and their dogs. It was busier than we thought it would be but I relished the company for the time being knowing that we were venturing into some heavily trafficked bear areas. 

Some rather foreboding signs at the trailhead. 

Hey, knowledge is power and I read each one.

Compared to Bird Ridge the day before, the hike out to Gull Rock was like night and day. We had 35lb packs on on this hike compared to day packs so that made it a bit more challenging but overall the hike was absolutely beautiful with an almost continual view of those gorgeous tidal flats out on the Turnigain Arm area of the Cook Inlet. The trail was perched along a steep drop off toward the water on the right and climbed sharply upwards on the left. There were a few downed trees that had been chainsawed fairly recently and other than a few minor obstacles such as roots and rocks it was pretty flat and easy going. 

Across Turnigain Arm is Bird Ridge, the peak I clambered up the day before. You can't tell from this photo but the Seward Highway runs along the edge of the water at the base of those mountains opposite our position. 

The hike in took about 2.5 hours as I wanted to take lots of pictures along the way and just stand in the quiet and listen to that beautiful silence for a brief time. I admit my nerves were on edge a bit knowing bears were around and every stick that snapped made my head spin in concern. However, my apprehension receded as we neared Gull Rock with the promise of a great view. We met a few people on the trail, including the couple who were negotiating it on their bikes. They indicated that there were some people firing a gun out at the point, right where we were headed. This knowledge reignited my wariness but we figured we'd investigate when we got there and see what was going on.

Don't be fooled by this photo. This rock fall dropped sharply downward and gave me a bit of vertigo frankly as I stepped along the trail that bisected the seemingly precipitous slope. 

Check out that view! I need no further proof that this place is magical from looking at this shot. There was a stillness to the water, surprisingly little wind when we reached the point and just a feeling of an energy humming below the surface of the land. Maybe it was the fresh air making me feel light-headed but to be in the midst of this place with the world opening up like that was simply amazing. 

The trail was springy underfoot with natural vegetation and decomposing matter providing a cushion to the hike. There weren't many bugs, especially out at the point where the breeze kept them at bay, but they were there on the periphery. Even a cloud of them would not have kept me from enjoying each moment to the fullest.

Along the trail near Gull Rock there were the remnants of some cabins from decades ago. They were barely visible through the trees. Some intrepid souls surely had their work cut out for them out here. 

Gull Rock is the small piece of land jutting out near the left hand horizon. That was our destination.  I have a small digital recorder that I regretted not having with me. It could serve to help bring back memories, ideas for paintings or just to recall that time, yet I had also forgotten that back in Ontario. Live and learn!

We made it to the campsite area on Gull Rock around 7:30pm or so. Searching the area, we soon located the source of the gunfire: three young men and a women told us they were "hunting squirrel for dinner". The one boy had what looked like a .44 Magnum "for bears" on his side and he brandished a pistol that presumably was for acquiring dinner. They invited us down to the beach for a campfire but we did not join them. The shooting subsided after awhile and we reckoned they had either been successful or given up the hunt.

We set up camp pretty quickly in time to have some dinner and watch one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. The campsite was also pretty amazing, with snow capped mountains off in the distance and nothing but the opportunity to experience the slow ebbing of time and temperature into the evening's coolness. 

Sitting by the campfire as the sun was going down. Unfiltered gorgeousness.

The beginning of the amazing sunset

Which continued...

And continued...

Until finally...

Was finished. A new light was left in its place. A softer, cooler light that framed the far off mountains. These mountains have not been mapped or climbed, and are, essentially, unexplored. I forget their names but it sounds Tolkienesque and haunting to me. I'll find out and add in that information later. I found that knowledge of their wild status to be comforting, knowing humans haven't traipsed around there very much, if at all.

The campfire kept the mosquitoes at bay fortunately

I love the colours that exist in the burning coals of the fire. Cool blues and hot reds co-exist. The colours remind me of Mary Pratt's artwork. Pratt paints colour like nobody's business. I have never seen light and colour on canvas and here is a good example. She has some beautiful paintings of fire that I cannot seem to find reference of but these coals reminded me of those works in particular.

The night was cool with the constant buzz of mosquitoes but I slept a dreamless and sound sleep, undeterred by their relentless pecking at the tent. The somnolence you experience in the wilderness after a good hike is like a blanket of sweet fatigue that covers you entirely and I woke refreshed the next morning.

The lookout near our camp at Gull Rock provided a unbelievable view out to Turnigain Arm

After breaking camp  we made good time back along the trail, returning to the trailhead in just over two hours. I signed out of the ledger, happily bear-free, filled with more amazing memories and the urge to see even more of glorious Alaska the following day. The beauty all around was almost too much to absorb, hence the protracted infusion of great feelings, observations and memories. I know that they will continue to have an effect on my work, mindset and desire to spend a lot more time in the North.  

“Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.” ~Emily Dickinson

"Return To Farewell"

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“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~Marcel Proust

"Return To Farewell", oil on panel, 18"x24" is a play on words. At the top of Newfoundland's north coast there lies Change Islands and Fogo Island. Each of these places have their own unique character and charm. Both destinations can be reached by ferries which leave and return multiple times each day. While in Newfoundland I was staying in Twillingate, an exceptionally beautiful area of the province where most people go to see whales and icebergs. David Blackwood had encouraged me to try to get to Tilting, a beautiful little town on Fogo Island. I knew I couldn't visit Change Islands and Fogo in one day so I opted for Fogo. If you wish to read about my experience there you can read it here, on my Paintings and Musings blog. 

After an exciting and windswept day visiting Fogo Island we jumped on the last ferry back to Farewell. As the ferry crossed the water en route back to Farwell the sun slid behind the horizon. The atmosphere is so clear in Newfoundland that everything was blue, so blue that the world turned quite monochromatic as a result. I remember seeing the large, elongated masses of land moving past us like large, prehistoric creatures and being struck by how almost abstract the scene was. 

It is amazing to me how many colours exist within objects. This might sound trite but really, it blows my mind how no naturally-occurring colour is one hue but a collection of different hues mingling together to form one overall visual effect. This phenomenon becomes more apparent when I am at the easel and really have to deconstruct the different colours within objects, be it eyes, clouds or sheets. So it was with this painting. The water had a different quality than the sky, even though they were quite analogous to one another. It was as though I was back in college, completing an exercise in painting with a limited palette. 

There is a time of day, twilight and dawn specifically, when the sun seems to race to or from the horizon rather than appearing to hang in the sky perpetually during the heat of the day. So it was on this day. It was as though a blue filter had been thrown across my eyes and I knew I wanted to paint it-a simple landscape that was almost abstract in its appearance.

I find that in paintings such as this subtlety is key. In order to reduce the intensity of the blue it is imperative to temper it with its compliment, orange, or some similarly contrasting colour. Otherwise it would just be a riot of cobalt and ultramarine, a visual toothache.

This painting was intended to be an exploration of how abstract the natural word can be. I wanted to work with limits and simplicity, to convey shapes and forms with minimal fuss and yet still achieve perspective and atmosphere. Most importantly it is a memory of that cool, windy ferry ride from Fogo Island to Farewell, in magical Newfoundland. 

“Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” ~E.E. Cummings

Here again are the details for my solo exhibition about Newfoundland. I have a dozen paintings completed so far and I cannot wait to see them all together in the gallery!

Have a wonderful day and glorify the moment,

Heather

Newfoundland Portraits

November 5-22nd, 2009

Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception November 6th, 7-10pm

Alaska Calling! Part 1: Anchorage and Bird Ridge

Sitting on Bird Ridge, looking down Cook Inlet

“Art is contemplation. It is the pleasure of the mind which searches into nature and which there divines the spirit of which Nature herself is animated.” ~Auguste Rodin

Sometimes you just have to be impulsive. Now, there's a huge difference between impulsiveness and recklessness but, much is to be said for taking a carefully placed step into the unknown. 

When the opportunity arose quickly last month to visit Alaska I jumped at the chance. Although I was gone less than a week I packed a lot into those few days. I visited Anchorage, Hope and Seward, camping at the latter two places under a fresh and clear sky each night. Along the way I climbed 2.5 hours up a mountain ridge, visited Exit glacier and caught glimpses of unsurpassed sunsets, bobbing seals and tidal flats that seemed endless. Talk about recharging your creative batteries! I am back in the studio reinvigorated and the paint is flying while I recover from the cold I caught while flying back to Ontario. 

A view of Anchorage from across the bay

I had never been to Anchorage before and this was the starting point of this Alaskan adventure. Anchorage is very different from Fairbanks but I like each city for their own unique qualities. Within twenty minutes of landing I was face to face with a moose by the side of the road! I had never been so close to one before. They tower expertly, stare at you implacably,  and I respect them unequivocally. 

News flash: Alaska is filled with mountains. I get it. I love them. I crave their stolid beauty, always watching us scurrying below, always seeming to have a knowledge that we ants do not seem to possess. However, never had I been witness to the splendor of peak after peak while driving hundreds of miles over five days. Most of my time was spend on or around the Kenai Peninsula and the drive from Hope to Seward is one of the most picturesque journeys by car that I have ever experienced.

A view of the Seward Highway as well as the vast

 tidal flats that occur all around the Cook Inlet

On my first day there I hiked up Bird Ridge, an entirely uphill hike which, I kid you not, many people RUN up....I was not one of them. Very quickly the wheat was separated from the chaff and I knew I had my work cut out for me, but I was up to the challenge. My friend Michael accompanied me and we managed to climb 85 percent of the way up the ridge in 2.5 hours. We could have reached the summit but the light was fading and by the time we descended it would be quite late (sunset is around 11:30pm this time of year in Alaska). 

This area of Alaska has huge tides, upwards of 30 feet. It is impossible for large ships to get into the harbor so smaller vessels are the only option to avoid being trapped by the ever changing water levels. The tidal flats which are seen when the water is at low tide were quite hypnotizing. I loved their organic shapes and undulating patterns. It reminded me of a larger example of the human body's circulatory system: a braided filigree of veins and arteries that were echoed here before us in this unique ecosystem. 

Here you see the trail up the ridge, as well as the tidal flats and Cook Inlet below

A view of our route up the ridge. I think this was about the time 

I had a mini panic attack but I calmed down after a minute and

 looked right in front of me instead of on either side!

An eagle surveyed us as he spiraled around on the thermals rising up the side of the ridge

The overcast sky cleared as we climbed and the rest of the weekend remained cloudless and rain-free. I wouldn't have cared if it had poured, but the climb would have been even more challenging in slick conditions. There was a moment on the climb when I really had some anxiety as I have issues around heights. What better opportunity to confront those fears by climbing up the side of a mountain? I can't think of a better form of exposure therapy. After watching the runners stride upwards past us we carefully chose our route and had some amazing views in store for us where we stopped near the summit. 

This view is deceiving. The summit is farther away than it looks.

 It was strange to walk on snow in May

The sun was setting as we turned around to descend back down the ridge. I felt such a swell of gratitude while standing there, a glimpse into how small we really are and how beauty is impossibly infinite. At that moment I knew that I could easily devote my artistic career to trying to echo that beauty by devoting myself to landscape paintings. Fortunately I love the figure and the human form as much as any wispy cornice or craggy cliff so there's no danger of that happening anytime soon. 

We were literally in the clouds looking across to other peaks and down

 into the passes between the mountains. We thought about how many bears were wandering around down there and were thankful to be above the treeline! We descended quickly, reaching the bottom of the trail in just under an hour. There was a great view of the Seward Highway, surrounding snow-capped mountains, and those lovely veins of water on the mudflats below us.

I had never climbed like that before, yet the few brave souls around us practically skipped up and down the ridge. Proof that all experience is relative to each of us, it certainly whetted my appetite to get back out and try the climb again, preferably sooner rather than later. Living 6,300km away won't deter me. But this was just the beginning of a great adventure in one of the countless, lovely areas of the 49th State. The next day was a trek out to camp overnight at Gull Rock in Hope!

Heading back to Anchorage along the Seward Highway

“Creating a new theory is not like destroying an old barn and erecting a skyscraper in its place. It is rather like climbing a mountain, gaining new and wider views, discovering unexpected connections between our starting points and its rich environment. But the point from which we started out still exists and can be seen, although it appears smaller and forms a tiny part of our broad view gained by the mastery of the obstacles on our adventurous way up.” ~Albert Einstein

Here again are the details for my solo exhibition about Newfoundland. I hope to see you at the opening on November 6th!

Have a beautiful evening, wherever you are!

Heather

Newfoundland Portraits

November 5-22nd, 2009

Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception November 6th, 7-10pm