Yukon Bound! Day 1--Burlington, Ontario to Sault Ste. Marie

White Lightning all packed up and ready for the road.

"Adventure is worthwhile in itself."~Amelia Earhart 

So the journey has begun! Operation Yukon is in full swing. Day One is complete. I drove from Burlington to Sault Ste Marie. About 9 hours in the seat of my Subaru all told. My cat Sasha is my co-pilot for the entire journey. We are making our way to Whitehorse, in the Yukon Territory. I have written about my love of the North before I so I shall get right to observations about the drive today.

For fun I entered my address in Whitehorse in my Garmin first thing this morning. This was the notification I received. Awesome, and ironic from one of the world's top GPS companies. To appease the device I changed my goal to my end of the day stop, Sault Ste Marie. About 700km or 450 miles give or take. 

I built a little shelf in Sasha's crate. This way his litter is below, along with his food and water. He slept most of the day. What a trooper!

The day started off slowly with lots of stop and go traffic until I was north of Toronto. Still, glad I was on the road at a reasonable hour. The traffic and haze dissipated slowly and before I knew it the rocky humps of The Canadian Shield were everywhere...the highway cutting through large sections of seemingly impenetrable rock. Mixed forests sitting atop grey rock, crimson sumacs starting to bleed into the landscape. Although my destination was on my mind I tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery as much as possible. 

Fog set in around Kilarney area and stayed off and on until beyond Sudbury. A deluge hit while I was driving into Sault Ste Marie. Incredible rainfall. Glad I made it to the hotel just in time. 

Lots of fog everywhere today. A nice opportunity to deploy the fog lights on my Subie.

Approaching The French River. I remember this drive so well from childhood. Summer vacations up on Manitoulin Island...this was part of the long drive around rather than taking the ferry from Tobermory to South Baymouth.

Another shot of the bridge over The French River. It's funny how you can not drive a stretch of road for over 20 years and yet remember hills and valleys and places like they were yesterday...from some far off place in your heart that comes right back up to the surface when you see the landscape again.

 

Further on up Highway 69 I came to a place where my family vacationed one summer..Point Au Baril. I remembered where to turn and that there would be a rail bridge...sure enough there it was. Quite nostalgic. 

The Sign leading to Espanola, and on south to Manitoulin Island. I had never been west of this intersection before up here...but I was today. I drove along the North Channel of Lake Huron, and it was gorgeous. 

 Finally in my room in Sault Ste Marie. This is what I eat when I have options on the road...that vegan jerky is actually awesome if you can find it...tomorrow...Thunder Bay!

"Hannah, Osmosis"

"There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element"~from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare 

We are over 80% water, and so like a bee to honey many of us enjoy flying through that ubiquitous element that makes up so much of what we are. I have become hypnotised by water, by it's perennial undulations. To try to capture those patterns with paint is a tough task. However the practice of scaling a wall of water is a job I love. Each thing that an artist attempts to paint and imbue with their own fingerprint is different. Skies are some of the toughest things to paint, especially calm skies. When there are storms, with choppy clouds and angry horizons it is easier, but a clear, bluebird day is a hard thing to capture.

And so it is with water. Smooth water is tough for me, but the reflections and refractions of light through the waves is a much more satisfying thing to tackle. Perhaps it is because I dislike smooth gradations of paint. I dislike blending, but prefer to let the brushstroke and pigment sit there and kibbutz with the other planes of light and colour. I like the chatter of a variety of brushstrokes and angles of application. 

This is the fourth painting I have done like this. I cannot help it. Like a sailor needs to return to the sea, I keep going back to these cerulean paintings. Perhaps it is a way to continue to see my friend Hannah, who lives a distance away from me. Perhaps it is because of her personality, her vivaciousness, that I return here too. It is all connected. 

The coastline of Carry Le Rouet in the South Of France.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carry-le-Rouet

A few years ago I was in France and my hosts and I drove down to the Mediterranean Sea. I remember craning my neck to see over the hillside that I knew rose up by the highway and then swept down to "The Big Blue" as my friends called it. And sure enough, when I first saw it, it took my breath away. Such deep, rich teals flew by as we neared it, a diaphanous expanse of turquoise that compelled you to get closer.

I lamented not having my bathing suit with me but waded into the cool, salty water until it was over my knees. Even when I was as small child and my mother first put me in a swimming class, where they had a little platform under the water that enabled little children to jump off into the terrifying five foot depths, there was something familiar and effortless about it all. Like an embrace that never quite hugs you back, it supports you but will let you fall if you do not work to retain stability. Water is a strange and beautiful paradox. It takes many lives, but also restores life, is essential to life. To contemplate water is to contemplate yourself. And to paint water, well, perhaps another form of knowledge lies in those blue tubes of paint as well..

"Hannah, Osmosis", is 36"x48", oil on panel, and is currently available at Abbozzo Gallery in Toronto, Ontario. 

Thank-you for reading and have a beautiful weekend,

Heather

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."~William Shakespeare

"Mayberry Street, Hidden", "After The Storm" and Abbozzo's Big Move

"Mayberry Street, Hidden",oil on panel, 48"x36",available at Abbozzo Gallery, Toronto

“A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.”

 ~George R.R. Martin

"How do you paint the cold?" It's the artistic equivalent of "Where do babies come from?" People have asked me over the years how I paint folds or paint emotion within a face...I wish I had a more esoteric answer but I do not. I do not know when feelings or temperatures are transferred onto a canvas. There is no one 'moment'. I think it is the cumulative effort applied to the work as a whole. As painters, we get so close to the subject from a technical point of view that we aren't even aware when the "effect" of the whole painting emerges. It happens without our knowledge, like the technicians and people who light a play, or cue the orchestra, or direct the performers.

"Mayberry Street, Hidden", oil on panel, 48"x36", came about following a huge snowstorm in Omaha, Nebraska this past winter. Two paintings emerged from that storm..."Mayberry Street" and also "After The Storm", oil on canvas, 10"x30". Both paintings are currently a part of a brand new exhibition at Abbozzo Gallery's new space in downtown Toronto at 401 Richmond. If you can, please stop in as it is a gorgeous space. I have attached some photos of the gallery below.

"After The Storm", oil on canvas, 10"x30", available at Abbozzo Gallery

Most of us have experienced the incredible quiet after a snow storm. In these two paintings the snow is sticking to trees and a wooden fence...it buffers the world around and sound is muted. We can hear our heart beat and we marvel at the transformation that has taken place from when we last looked outside. Snow is one of my favourite things to paint. I like mixing the warm and cool greys that show form. It is all about contrast. Snow hides and reveals at the same time. It colludes with our psyche to reveal truths, and that's where the paint comes in, to record that moment. 

I think painting snow, mixing whites with all other colours to produce that coldest of illusions, is a way of allowing the painting to have a lot of negative space, but a space that is actually filled with substance.  I like to find a point of tension, usually a figure, and let the space around it provide breathing room to bring you back to that focal point, the place within ourselves where we all return. 

Here are some photos that I took of Abbozzo Gallery's amazing new space in Toronto. You can see my painting "Figure, Perched", oil on canvas, 60"x40" in two of these photos. I will be blogging about them soon. I am so very fortunate to be with such a great gallery. This space and Ineke, Margaret and the rest at Abbozzo are what every artist should have...a dealer who believes in you, in your vision. I am very thankful for our relationship.

Such a beautiful space!

"Figure, Perched" hangs on the wall behind the main desk. 

You can see "Mayberry Street, Hidden" and "The Stone House" here in this shot.

A view down the hallway that runs alongside the gallery..

Thanks for reading today and please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions about these paintings or any that you see on my website or this blog.

Have a wonderful day!

Heather

Occasionally I have come across a last patch of snow on top of a mountain in late May or June.

 There's something very powerful about finding snow in summer.~Andy Goldsworthy

"The Stone House" And The Art Of Giving

“Before I can say I am, I was. Heraclitus and I, prophets of flux,

 know that the flux is composed of parts that imitate and repeat each other.

 Am or was, I am cumulative, too. I am everything I ever was.."~Wallace Stegner

Every artist has a place where their mind can rest and their art can roam free. "The Stone House", oil on canvas, 10"x30" is my place. It lies north of my hometown and is home to one of my closest friends and frequent painting subject, Gayle. The house is over 150 years old, and is nestled into the side of a hill, much as Gayle's history is nestled into this area. She grew up not far from The Stone House. It has been in her life always, and now she lives there. In this day and age that is rare, to have such a longstanding, immediate connection with your historical, geographical topography. It is stitched into her bones. She has a beautiful garden that is her pride and joy. Her family collects sap from nearby maple trees that they carefully craft into maple syrup. It is such a special place. I am fortunate that Gayle has let me into her world when I needed to start a new painting project. When I look back one day on the paintings I have created, I will be happy to group years' of work into one chapter devoted to Gayle and the Stone House.

Andrew Wyeth is a big hero of mine, and this painting echos of his works a bit I think. It is important to be inspired by people, by artists, but our own technique and creative fingerprints will always keep it uniquely ours. It is a nod to those who move us, and then we turn and do our own thing.

I have never painted the back of Gayle's house before. It is a bit of an illusion from this viewpoint, as there is so much more of the structure visible from the front, from the road. I have had this composition in mind for over a year. Snow is more fun to paint than foliage, so it was the right time to do this piece.

What you think, you become. Where you are becomes who you are. Gayle embodies these statements perfectly.

I love giving. And I love giving art to good causes! I recently returned from Gig Harbor, Washington, a beautiful little town near Seattle. I was out there to visit Bainbridge Island where an animal refuge is located. My friend Aaron Dunlap is bicycling from Las Vegas to Kansas, and then competing in a race in Euphoria. Aaron had the idea to do a fundraiser to raise money to help West Sound Wildlife. Click on their name and you can also donate to help injured wildlife. West Sound rehabilitates injured animals and returns them to their natural homes. All proceeds go directly to West Sound Wildlife. I had a great time there as they showed us around the facility. 

Aaron asked if I would donate a painting to the refuge. This is the piece I created. A little Saw Whet Owl portrait, 12"x12", oil on panel. All donations will be entered into a raffle to win this little portrait. It could be you! 

West Sound currently has this little Saw Whet Owl. She will stay there permanently to become an educational owl for children and visitors. Her wing was broken when she was hit by a car. I was struck by hear beauty, innocence and utter helplessness when I saw her at the refuge. Reducing animal suffering in any form, large or small, is extremely important to me. They cannot stand up for themselves in many cases. We can stand up for them.

Have a wonderful day today, wherever you are. "The Stone House" is available through Abbozzo Gallery. 

"The crow wished everything was black, the owl, that everything was white."~William Blake

"Surfacing": The Swimming Paintings

"I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after,

 and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me,

 like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."~Emily Bronte

For a long time now I have been painting draped figures, the drapes pooling around the figure in white and adjacent shadows showing the form that lies underneath. I have found a new love, or rather, another love: painting water.

Whether still or active, transparent or opaque, water is what we are (mostly) made of, and it cleanses, heals, renews and invigorates us. I feel more at home in water than on land frankly. It is where I can fly briefly, before needing to breathe. It whispers around us and keeps us buoyant but it can also take us too. Simply speaking, it is where we can lose ourselves. Such a powerful symbol and such a fascinating thing is the perfect subject to paint, especially with the figure incorporated into it.

Included in this post are my three swimming paintings: "Hannah, Surfacing", "Hannah, Flying" and "Hannah, Through". All oil. All on wood panel.

"Hannah, Through", oil on panel, 5"x7", available at Abbozzo Gallery

Hannah is one of my muses and a cherished friend. It is easy to paint people you care for, especially those who are old souls. Hannah is such a person. I look forward to completing many more paintings with her as the subject.

When I was visiting Hannah in Buffalo in the summer, we had the chance to spend time at her childhood home. I saw the pool in the backyard, had my camera with me, and asked if Hannah would mind swimming while I shot some reference for paintings. Well in 10 minutes I had enough reference for at least three paintings! Just like that. Happiness. Knowing you have viable reference is a huge boost in one's confidence toward the  completion of a painting.

"Hannah, Surfacing", oil on panel, 48"x72", private collection, Delaware, USA

These paintings were a part of my exhibition "Surfacing" which just ended four days ago. The show was a huge success! I am very thankful to collectors, friends and my gallery, Abbozzo Gallery, who have supported me through the past few years. These paintings took over 150 hours to paint between the three of them. Time well spent I believe.

I think I have found something special with these paintings. A lot of artists paint water, but everyone's journey is what matters, and I think I have found a whole new story to tell here. The blues, the translucence, the transparency, the distortion, the illusion. There is so much about this subject that intrigues me. When you see these paintings from a distance back they do coalesce but up close, as usual, they fragment into delineated planes of pigment. It is like standing in a field. You see the rows of corn separately but above, in a plane, they are waves themselves that meld together, they blend into the field beyond. Art is about illusion, but not malicious or deceptive of course. It is about transporting you away from your present state and into another place and time.

"Hannah, Flying", oil on panel, 18"x24", private collection, Mississauga, Ontario

Water is special because almost all of us have swam in it, dove into it, floated in it, bathed in it, lamented it, welcomed it, imbibed it, and we all remember its effects on us. I love painting what appears to be there and not there. I do love that the figure is folded in another type of fabric, organic and flowing, which shows form and hides form too.

These paintings are another beginning. The first chapter in a long book. Thanks for reading and here is a beautiful poem by my favourite poet, Mary Oliver. Keep creating and keep believing in yourself.

Heather


In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

"Portrait Of An Artist As A Young Girl"

“The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.” ~James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man


Sometimes I have an idea for a painting that is particularly personal. The kind of painting that doesn't matter to me if it sells or not. The need to paint this or that object or scene is so strong that it overrides any thought of what people might think of it. Every painting I do is because I want to do it, but it is paintings like "Portrait Of An Artist As A Young Girl", oil on panel, that hold a special place in my heart because of its biographical roots. 

This painting is a segment of my childhood bedroom. I have vague memories of my mother periodically standing me up straight against the door frame of my closet. She would have a pen or pencil and measure my height. It was done about once a year, this little ritual of ours. I know that the memory of each tick is housed in the back of my mind somewhere. Although I cannot remember each measuring, each moment of realizing how tall I was getting, of turning to look and compare my height to my mother's, I do know that somewhere in my mind that memory exists. I also know that the memory could be brought back to me with the direct pressure of a surgeon's touch, flooding back like water through an opened lock. 

Today happens to be my mother's birthday, and I thought it was fitting to write about this special painting. She has always been my touchstone, my best friend. My parents are both incredible people, and this is why some of my most personal paintings involve them. Someone once said to write about what you know. I say paint about what you know as well. Having a well to draw from will always yield powerful results and an opportunity to know yourself and those around you even better than before. 

I have decided that one day, when my parents move that I will remove this door frame. I'm not sure what I will do with it, perhaps frame it. A frame within a frame. 

I visualize most paintings in my mind as a completed piece even before I begin gathering reference. In other words, before I even took the photographs that would help me complete this piece, I could see it in my head: the vertical door frame creating a nice tension with the horizontal panel, etc. When I took the reference photographs I was able to revisit my childhood and see where I was at 6 years old, 7 years old, until the day when I was taller than my mother. I recall wondering what that meant, what were the implications of me being taller than her? Would my world tilt or alter in some way? I had always looked up to her, and even though I now look down to her when we speak, she will forever be someone I look up to. Happy Birthday Ma. I love you. 

“He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.”― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

This painting and many others will be a part of my upcoming solo exhibition in Oakville, Ontario. Here are the details. I hope to see you there!

SURFACING: 

New paintings by Heather Horton

November 2-17, 2012, Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception Saturday, November 3, 2-4pm

Artist informal meet and greet Sunday, November 11th, 2-4pm

Abbozzo Gallery website

Heather Horton website 

Tenacious New Roots: Whitehorse & The Yukon 2012

“When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,or full of argument. I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”~Mary Oliver

Each time you visit a place that resonates with you it is harder to leave. As my time here in The Yukon Territory draws to a close I feel even more of myself being left behind here. Have you ever visited a place that just felt “right”? That you felt an immediate gravitational pull towards? When I first visited Vancouver in 2003 I felt this way, but upon arriving in Alaska in 2008 my path was forever altered: The North was where I belonged.

The Yukon river, like a twisting muscle of blues and blacks, flows continually by..

Imagine my delight when I first arrived in The Yukon: like Alaska, but within my country of Canada. I was elated, and that elation has lasted, even when I have been in Ontario in between journeys up here, for the last three years. So when you feel that draw to a place you naturally try to get back to it. I have just spent the last three weeks here in Whitehorse, meeting new friends, hiking, sailing, painting, mountain biking and squeezing every drop of experience possible out of it all. It has been unforgettable in so many ways.

The intent of this journey was a working vacation.I was able to complete two new paintings for my upcoming solo painting exhibition: "Surfacing", at Abbozzo Gallery  in Oakville, Ontario (November 2-17^th). Throughout this creative process I hiked and explored new areas of Whitehorse, Haines Junction and more. Waking up every morning and seeing the countenance of the mountains on the horizon or at my feet, never ceased to amaze me. I understand why so many Ontarians have moved here. The people are so helpful when I mention that I am a painter and what sort of suggestions might they have as to how I might integrate my artwork into the vibrant culture up here.

The Yukon is a great supporter of artists and the arts. There are lots of artists up here, working artists, passionate artists, and I didn’t even get up to Dawson, where everyone says I must visit. When I return I definitely want to do this. On a side note, I think it would be pretty amazing to canoe from Whitehorse to Dawson as so many have done, whether racing or for leisure.

I can understand how Yukoners and people who live in the North feel the urge to get out into the sunshine, traverse the tundra, and embrace the ephemeral summer months here. According to friends, it is winter for about 8 months of the year here, so it stands to reason that people are out hiking, canoeing, kayaking, biking and out in the sun as much as possible, to soak up lots of that Vitamin D before the sun starts to dip lower on the horizon after the summer solstice.

The majority of the days I was here I worked on two paintings, a little 5”x7” piece and a larger, 18”x24” painting. To wake up, feel the coolness on my skin from the window open during the night (temps would dip to about 8ºC), make a coffee and settle down in front of my makeshift easel and paint for six hours was bliss. Having such a lack of distraction from noise, advertisements, din, crowds, traffic and the like really helps with focus. Having a tendency towards being anxious and rabbit-hearted, I am particularly affected by external stimulation like this so its absence was welcome. Instead I had the rosy sun slanting across the wall and arcing high above the lodgepole pines that frame my friend’s backyard.If you walked 10 minutes outside his backyard you would be in the wilderness. It is everywhere. It is wonderful.

En route home from Haines Junction, west of Whitehorse

Oftentimes on my walk or jog to the Canada Games Centre I would hear the chortle of ravens swooping overhead, their throaty voices breaking the silence periodically to remind me that I was far from Southwestern Ontario. I would get up and stretch on my breaks, gazing at the slate blue mountains on the horizon across the river and beyond, see groups of fuschia-coloured fireweed in gardens and along the roadside. My daily walks and jogs down Hamilton Blvd became a daily ritual, except on the days when I went for a run by the Yukon River on the Millennium Trail, or met with a new friend such as freelance writer Eva Holland, who has penned stories for Up Here magazine and many more publications. I also had a coffee with CBC North's Dave White. Always nice to reconnect with him. That phrase “strangers are friends we haven’t met yet” is so true. I now feel as though I have a little place in the community here. My favourite hangout is Baked Café, where I picked up some lovely Bean North Coffee. I brought it back to Ontario with me and am savouring each cup. 

At Baked Café

On certain days I went farther afield and new experiences. I hiked in Kluane National Park with my friend before he departed on his trip this month. We had a great hike with views down Slims River to the glaciers that slide in slow motion down the mountains at the end of the valley. It was a great hike and nice to actually explore a bit of the park. I hiked in Wrangell St. Elias National Park which joins Kluane in 2009, so it was sort of a revisiting. But considering the immense size of the two parks, it was also like a brand new world too. On another occasion I met a new friend in Haines Junction, a small community of less than 400 people that lives in the shadow of the mountains of Kluane. I relaxed in her little log home with she and her husband, met their sled dogs and capped off the day with the glorious drive back from Haines Junction to Whitehorse. Perfect.

The view from "Yurtville" at Boréale Biking, looking out over Whitehorse

I was fortunate enough to meet the great folks at Boréale Biking this summer as well. I have been following them for awhile on Twitter and so we arranged to meet and do a little bit of mountain biking together. I had never mountain biked with a full suspension bike before and so it was a great baptism into a new form of wilderness adventure. Marsha and Sylvain, my hosts, were so kind, amazing cooks, and their little hamlet of yurts, known as “Yurtville” made my time there pretty spectacular. I had my own little yurt for the night, with a little skylight, the sounds of the wilderness just outside the walls and the amazingly warm comforter that kept me snug and warm during the cool night.  My biking guide Dave was very patient with me, giving me tips on how to position myself on the bike during ascents and descents, advice on general practice of what to do and not to do, and said that I did very well for my first time out. I cannot wait to get back on the trails.

The main yurt at Boréale Biking, and an inside view...

More highlights were hiking with a new group of friends who meet regularly. We laughed and they brought along a few of their dogs who accompanied us on the hike. I look forward to move excursions with all of them. Also I will remember fondly my visit to The Chocolate Claim, meeting Chantal at Unity Clothing, grabbing a pint at the High Country Inn after an afternoon of hiking on Discovery Day yesterday, and sailing across Lake Laberge on a 26 foot sailboat. I fit a lot into three weeks, but it did not feel like too much. It was enough to keep me busy yet productive with my art. I cannot thank my new friends enough for welcoming me  here and answering my questions about life up here in the Yukon, what brought them here and what keeps them here. I came away with so many riches that I will treasure always.

A panorama of the little cove on Lake Laberge where we docked the sailboat..

Gorgeous viewpoint after our hike up the ridge..didn't see a soul :)

The Yukon gets into your cells and your lungs. Its energy and peaceful spirit seep into you through a type of quiet and steady osmosis. Most importantly it enters into our hearts and we are forever changed. Or perhaps it is us that walk into its heart. 

SURFACING:

New Paintings By Heather Horton

November 2-17, 2012

Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario

Opening Reception November 2, 7-10pm

Artist meet and greet November 4, 2-4pm

You can see more available paintings via my website: heatherhorton.com 

and at Abbozzo Gallery's website: abbozzogallery.com