Yukon Bound Day 4!...Winnipeg to Saskatoon

"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; 

what is essential is invisible to the eye."~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

I did not take many photos today. I'm not sure why. It is not as though the prairies didn't offer much to capture. On the contrary, I enjoyed the immeasurable flatness in all directions, a golden yellow expanse pressed under the thumb of a giant rolling pin. I left my hotel around 6:15am, the earliest departure yet. I wanted a good jump on the day as I knew there would be the better part of 9 driving hours to cover. 

Dawn bloomed around 7am this morning...a hazy, sleepy eye opening with lovely colours all around. Today I drove from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. The odometer pronounced that 1,849 miles have been driven so far. Just shy of 3,000 km. I am pleased with this progress. From here on out it will be another 9-10 hours to Grande Prairie, Alberta tomorrow, and then another 9+ hour day to get up to Muncho Lake, British Columbia on Sunday. All things going according to plan I will arrive in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory on Monday late afternoon. My new home.

A rather unassuming little sign welcomed drivers to Saskatchewan. The Prairies, in earnest. Land of terribly expensive beer, pleasant inhabitants, mottled cows, grain elevators and crisply distant horizons.  I couldn't help but notice the cows and horses as I drove past them. They were very handsome and looked to be well cared for. The cows were a mixture of ruddy reds, deep ochres and blacks, jumbled about in herds, lazily swatting their tales. They reminded me of multi-coloured corn kernels. As I approached Saskatoon I saw more variability in the landscape; some deeper hollows slid down away from the road, probably remnants of long-dried streams. The temperature was hot and dusty, a perfect day to be here. The prairies at their best, as they should be. The wind was present and constant. With nothing to stop it it blew about the buildings and vehicles everywhere. I felt a little bit cast back in time, or at least, frozen in it for awhile.  

Before this drive people had rolled their eyes when mentioning the prairie component of a trans Canada drive. "Stay awake!" "They are SO boring." "It gets better when you are beyond the prairies". And I have also heard that some people feel agoraphobic in the prairies. The expanse can be unsettling. I find it comforting. Nothing can sneak up on you out here. There is a knowledge that most things are seen here and you can prepare for them, as opposed to being in deep valleys or deep woods. I find this landscape uncomplicated and relaxing. And it is far from boring.

Today I passed through Portage la Prairie, Brandon, Regina, Chamberlain, Craik and finally Saskatoon. I didn't get much chance to look around town here but rather made a beeline for my hotel, a horse for the barn. Sasha is typically tired and fed up by that time of day and I like to get settled in and relax to prepare for the next day of travel. I promise I will take more photos tomorrow. I have no idea what the landscape will be like heading across northern Alberta to Grande Prairie. All I know is it will be another long day. But another beautiful one as well, no doubt.

I didn't see much wildlife today, other than a few geese flying in a loose 'V' and the odd lone duck in little lakes by the highway. Sasha slept most of the day, after his morning yowling. I would be upset too, but he takes it in stride and resigns himself to his blanket.

New adventures tomorrow...more trucks, bugs on the windscreen, Tim Horton's and always a new horizon.

"What makes the desert beautiful," says the little prince,

 "is that somewhere it hides a well."~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Yukon Bound...Day 3! Thunder Bay to Winnipeg

That was my country—Terrible winds and a wonderful emptiness.

- Georgia O’Keeffe

Today I drove another 700km as I drove from Thunder Bay, Ontario to Winnipeg, Manitoba. This is day three of seven that I am taking to get up to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. From here on out the days will be longer, as I am basing my stop points around seven to nine hour driving lengths. Next stop is Saskatoon, then Grand Prairie, Alberta, then Muncho Lake, BC and finally Whitehorse!

The Canadian Shield, so ubiquitous over the course of the last two days, faded away from view today as the landscape was taken over by limitless flatness. I started off early again, around 7am. Sasha has his usual morning complaints at being in his crate again but he settles down and has a good sleep for most of the day. We are settling into a routine, and I know how much cats like routine. I know that at the end of the day we can both unwind in the hotel, fed, watered and clean.

Today I spotted a bat, a fox, a coyote, a bald eagle and a turkey vulture making short work of road kill with a flock of ravens nearby. The roads were excellent, and the quantity of trucks and vehicles going my direction was markedly less than those going east towards Thunder Bay.

I appreciated the sign as I entered Dryden, Ontario today. It was one of those signs that appears near bingo halls and variety stores or restaurants announcing various dinner specials or pot luck dates. But this was the town's main welcome sign. Quaint.

As I made my way northwest out of Ontario the usual battery of moose-warning signs flashed by. I appreciate that the moose on this sign appears to be doing its own version of the tolt, a unique gait that only the Icelandic horse can make. The tolt happens when three of the horse's four legs remain on the ground. Here is a great example:
Super Tolt!


Today I passed through Sunshine, Upsala, Ignace, Kenora and a multitude of parks in between.
The land quickly transitioned shortly after the Ontario/Manitoba border into the flat topography that I was expecting. I have driven through the Midwest from top to bottom and this makes even the Midwest look hilly. I can't imagine what I will see when I get to Saskatchewan!

A new province visited!

I love the angularity and simple geometry of this landscape. The clouds counter the sharpness of the land with their puffy faces, seeming to look down on us through a fishbowl. It only serves to accentuate how mercilessly unbroken the lines of the road and fields are. Pretty spectacular. People have warned me to stay awake during the drive across the prairies, complaining of its tedious repetitiveness. But I am excited for it. Because there is in fact tonnes going on, but in a more subtle way.

Getting close to Winnipeg here. There was nothing...nothing...nothing...nothing...and then a tall cityscape WAY off in the distance to the southwest. I feel as though I'm in a western here, some Canadian Coen Brothers realm. Some McCarthy-esque, alternate universe. Tomorrow...Saskatoon!

My dear co-pilot and true friend Sasha, tired after a long day. Tomorrow..more adventures! See you then.

Yukon Bound Day 2!...Sault Ste. Marie to Thunder Bay

“Set out from any point. They are all alike. They all lead to a point of departure.” 
― Antonio Porchia

Day 2 began early. I arrived in Sault Ste Marie in the dark and left in the dark this morning, with my sights set on Thunder Bay. Garmindy (my Garmin) proclaimed it would take 8 hours of driving time. With stops it was about 9 hours. As I departed The Soo fog was blanketing the landscape. Eerie and beautiful and casting a blue hue over everything, I took extra care driving. On top of that rain and multiple signs warning to be on the lookout for moose made for an extra-vigilant driving experience. 

The Canadian Shield and construction. Two constants up here these past two days. Frankly the construction doesn't tie up too much time. The unlimited transport trucks really unnerve me however on two lane asphalt highways like the Trans Canada #17. Yet the landscape more than made up for the nervousness. Wave after wave of tree-heavy rock, trees that grew right out of the rock, true tenacity. I know there is a lot of logging up here but fortunately didn't see too much evidence of this. 

Lake Superior. As incredible as I hoped it would be..the earth stretching out in a necklace of islands which span the horizon. I passed through towns including Marathon, Batchawana Bay, Pancake Bay Provincial Park, Wawa, White River, Terrace Bay, Schreiber, Rainbow Falls Provincial Park, Nipigon and my favourite sign, "Rabbit Blanket Lake"(my friend Kelly will like that). The leaves are continuing to turn, but not in a hurry. They echo the rocks in their subtlety. They are dark brown and ancient green still, with the odd flush of red here and there, the colours of dinosaurs that I remember from childhood books, all mottled and seeming to know secrets I am not privy to. The rock appeared to be alive, rising and falling from view like pods of whales, giant humpbacks with their murky skins disappearing under the waves. 

This is a screenshot from my phone. I had no cell reception for most of the day. Normally a welcome thing but alone in the middle of a new place with so far to go, I was unnerved. Still, I was thankful to get a signal in Thunder Bay.

In Terrace Bay, when I stopped at a Tim Horton's I passed this very Canadian sight...a huge Canada flag and a large statue of a Canada Goose. I had to smile :)

Approaching Thunder Bay. So much rock up here. I love it. It was clear and crisp and beautiful today. I am so pleased to finally have seen Lake Superior and do this drive. Tomorrow I leave the Great Lakes and head west to Winnipeg. The PEG. "You know it's made well if its made in Winnipeg!" Never been.  Time to check off another province!

Sasha is doing really well. He wasn't thrilled about being in his kitty condo crate this morning but he settled down in the afternoon. I have toys for him, lots of food, and lots of love.

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