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

"Floating" (exploring a bilateral painting approach)

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."

~Emily Dickinson

The idea for "Floating", Oil On Canvas, 20"x16" came about one day when I was walking around my old apartment in Burlington. It had that interlocking wood pattern so common in many apartment buildings. It was always cool to the touch. This might sound odd but I felt it almost push against my feet when I walked on it, reiterating how quite solid and intractable it was. I felt the need to push against it somehow. I decided to grab my camera and take some shots to see what I came up with. I have been painting subjects upside down periodically over the years. It serves many purposes, and I love that the viewer needs to take a moment to process the piece and perhaps wonder why it is upside down. 

The whole point though it that really it isn't upside down, it is just looking at the world in a different way, looking at ourselves in a different way. I usually paint myself as the subject but Laura, a friend and model, has also appeared in some of these pieces. They serve to disorient, and yet they also help us to look at things from a different point of view, literally. 

Sometimes we are weighed down by life, and sometimes we float up and away from it ecstatically, as if in a dream. It is circumstantial and ultimately unique to each of us, and we can identify with these feelings at different times in our lives. In this painting I was feeling claustrophobic yet surrounded by space, free and yet confined, a bit of a paradox perhaps.  It is pensive and serene at the same time. Honestly I feel that my most personal paintings are my self-portraits (no surprise there). It is within these pieces where I am most vulnerable. Of course as an artist you are choosing to share these moments of doubt with the viewer, which only accentuates the vulnerability you feel. But the point is I think that we can all relate to this sometimes. 

I have a habit of moving the canvas in all directions while I work on it. Even though this piece was to end up "upside down" for all intents and purposes, I painted it on its side too...I think this method helps you to paint better, when you change the orientation of the canvas. When the normal boundaries are removed that tell you where to paint, you can focus more on value and the correct colour. Oftentimes when you shift the canvas to another orientation it comes together in a way that surprises you. Thus when you remove a bias towards a way of painting, the resulting artwork has a life and freshness infused in it. Perhaps we could call this bilateral painting, a way of painting outside of your normal, creative modus operandi. 

It is difficult to allow oneself to be vulnerable, to open yourself up to the elements, to leave the window open for the icy draft of conflict or uncertainty to blow in. How do we deal with these trials of the mind and the body? Perhaps we should open the window wider, experience the frigid air at its most acute. Surely if we do we will be much stronger and more joyful for it.  

Have peaceful and wonderful weekend,

Heather

I will close this blog entry with a poem by my favorite poet, Mary Oliver. It is called "Moccasin Flowers". Oliver's poems, more than any other poet's, echo how I feel and why I paint. 

All my life,

      so far,

           I have loved more than one thing,

including the mossy hooves

      of dreams, including

          the spongy litter

                 under the tall trees.

In spring

    the moccasin flowers

         reach for the crackling

            lick of the sun

and burn down. Sometimes,

     in the shadows,

          I see the hazy eyes,

                the lamb-lips

of oblivion,

     its deep drowse,

          and I can imagine a new nothing

                in the universe.

the matted leaves splitting

      open, revealing 

           the black planks 

                of the stairs.

But all my life---so far---

       I have loved best

            how the flowers rise

                and open, how

the pink lungs of their bodies

    enter the fire of the world

         and stand there shining

              and willing----the one

thing they can do before

      they shuffle forward

          into the floor of the darkness, they

              become the trees.

_______________________________________________________________

Here are more snippets of upcoming paintings to be seen at my solo exhibition:

Newfoundland Portraits

November 5-22nd, 2009

Abbozzo Gallery, Oakville, Ontario, Canada

Opening Reception November 6, 2009 7-10pm

I hope to see you there!

Come and see some paintings from this amazing province, filled with beautiful people who live and extend their love and friendship to readily. I hope this show captures a small bit of this fantastic experience on canvas.

Also, I am offering high quality colour reproductions of any of my paintings that you see and wish to have for yourself. I sign each image and will ship anywhere. I offer 8"x10" and 11"x14" size options on high quality, matte, archival paper. Send me an email and I will be happy to answer any of your questions! 

Salt Spring Island Part 2: Déja Vu, Giant Trees and Happy Hitchhikers

"If you want to be happy, be."

~Leo Tolstoy

Salt Spring Island, a little piece of paradise between Vancouver Island and the mainland, has a reputation that precedes it. As I mentioned in my previous blog entry, there certainly is a supremely laid back feeling that hangs in the air on the island. It is as if there is this bubble that protects Salt Spring from the rest of the world. My mobile phone barely worked there, which was fine as I appreciated having it on a shelf for once rather than in my pocket. 

I had my sketch book with me but again, I like to shoot with my camera to take in as much as possible rather than sitting and sketching for an hour. It is as though I suspect it will all disappear at any moment and I have to hurry to take pictures before it slips away.

The flowers were so vibrant wherever I looked

Perhaps it is the atmosphere, the mist in the air, the changeable and often wet weather that I love so much. Whatever the cause the COLOURS were so very intense. I know that I like to take pictures of my paintings for archival purposes right after or right before a rainstorm. It tends to intensify the colours. Perhaps this the reason for the same phenomenon happening on Salt Spring. 

Part of the property where I stayed while on Salt Spring, at the north end of the Island, there was a pasture where a couple of horses lived. Shena, the pregnant mare shown above, gave birth to a healthy foal the next day. My host Theresa and I were fortunate to spend a few minutes with Shena as she spent this last day patiently awaiting the birth of her baby.  She was rubbing up against a tree and seemed rather preoccupied, yet she eyed us with such a soft and gentle gaze that we did not stay long but talked with her and then left her alone.

I spent a lot of time driving and hiking around Salt Spring. You could cover the entire island by car in half a day and I made a small side trip down to Moonstruck Cheese, an organic cheese company on the south end of the island.  I am vegan, but my good friend Jim spoke of visiting this place years ago and then promptly forgetting his cheese in the fridge at the place where he was staying. I knew I had to find some for him. It was a quaint little place, with some chickens and horses on the property. One other couple was poking about like I was and we found our way into the little shop where there were two fridges filled with the small wheels of cheese and samples of each kind. I took their suggestion and picked up two small cheeses for Jim. It was only then that we realized that there was a little tin to leave our money in as no one works in the shop. Apparently the owners use the honour system of trusting the customer to not run away with the tin of money left there. I thought it was both brave and quaint at the same time. 

Chickens at Moonstruck Cheese. They were resting. I think I woke them up.

As I headed down to my friend Ron's place for a bite to eat I passed a hitchhiker near where I was staying. I stopped and picked her up. She was exuberant, had a beautiful spirit, wonderful energy and we hit it off straight away,  I gave her a lift to the south end of the island where she lived. She is from Mississauga, a city about half an hour from where I live here in Burlington, Ontario. We laughed at our Ontario connection, agreed on our love of British Columbia and chatted amiably for awhile before I dropped her off. It is people like Paula who stick in my mind; lovely souls with a history just as interesting as any pebble on a beach. Perhaps Paula and I will not be around as long as that pebble, but we live just as authentically as any rock shaped smooth by the water. We feel the gravity of the world just as consistently and we are flung about in tempests not terribly different from one another from time to time. 

Paula, a kindred spirit.

I went to visit my friend Ron as well as John and his family one evening. The view down from the mountain was wonderful, with lots of greenery and even some rainbows after the recent rainfall. I tried to squeeze every moment out of my time there, knowing I could use it as creative fuel for the fire at a later time. 

Probably the happiest fern I have ever seen

This was literally a carpet of green. A thriving little ecosystem within the space

 of one square foot

The trees seemed to be endless, invincible with an inner strength that was palpable. 

More wonderful arbutus. Look at the amazing colours! The "skin" that has fallen to the side is a terrific eggplant colour. Arbutus is one of my favorite things in the world. Each branch and root is a soft palette of hues that I haven't seen anywhere else. 

Some of the fir trees were true giants. One in particular was estimated to be over 300 years old. While walking below these trees I truly felt as though I was a part of something larger, a small cog within the wheel of a great organism. It was a humbling feeling, a feeling that I was in a very special place indeed. I was almost paralyzed from the thought of doing anything creative, because the stimuli was so overwhelming that I could only take it in and let it incubate for a later time. The air was temperate, a bit on the cool side. There was water dripping from branches, a few animals in the undergrowth, and a lovely quietness to it all. The silence was not deafening like it was in Alaska. It was different. Sound was different. It is hard to explain but each place has its own fingerprint of textures and sounds, qualities which make them exactly what they are, where they are, and found nowhere else.  

I know that I will get back to Salt Spring Island. I have made friends there, and as you know, people who live in a place draw us back just as much as any part of the landscape because they form the experience with their friendship as much as exploring on one's own. I would love to live there for a season, or for a few weeks. To set up a little studio and just work for a time, to let the mist sink in to my thoughts and onto the canvas, that would be wonderful. Anything is possible, its just a matter of making it happen. As they say, where there is a will, there is a way.

A full rainbow to end a very full adventure on Salt Spring. 

Artwork Update:

Here are some snippets of paintings that will appear in my solo show "Newfoundland Portraits" in November 2009 at Abbozzo Gallery in Oakville, Ontario. I am working steadily on new pieces each day. It will be an exciting show! You can find out more information about the exhibition on my website here. One of the paintings has already sold and the show is still 10 months away! If you are interested in seeing the pieces please contact Abbozzo Gallery. The show will run from November 5-22, 2009 with the opening reception happening on November 6th from 7-10pm. I hope to see you there!

Have a wonderful day, evening or morning, wherever you are,

Heather

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience." 

~Emily Dickinson

"Wyll, Madison Avenue"

"My friends are my estate"~Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson said it best. As a reclusive woman, her friends were very important to her. As an only child, my cousins and friends are my siblings. 

"Wyll, Madison Avenue", 2009, 12"x16", oil on panel, is a painting of one of my dear childhood friends who I have known since grade 7.

I have painted Wyll three times over the years, and I have included these paintings below. 

True friends are separated by neither time nor geography. They simply are a part of you, and you of them. True friends are weavers; when you meet after a long absence the threads of your lives are quickly woven together so that soon your dialogue flows freely and your only enemy is the clock, indicating when you must part again. 

There's a certain comfort in spending time with someone with whom you share a history. Its like a secret that you both carry with you as you walk along the street, as Wyll and I did leading up to the reference shots for this painting. It is as though your combined force can take on the world, that this bond is greater than the relationships of the multitudes who pass by on the street.

Wyll and I used to work on a ranch together, leading trail rides and relishing our time with the animals there. We worked for nothing, simply the freedom of having our own hour of time at the end of the day to ride whichever horse we chose. Money was irrelevant.  We were young, fearless and acutely alive.

But here we are now years later, in the depths of winter in Toronto. We walked up a side street off of Bloor and I took some shots to consider for paintings. I edited out some elements that I did not want to paint in the finished piece. It was freezing that day but we were warm, and the energy from our conversation over lunch sustained us, keeping the cold at bay. 

I used a lot of blue in the rendering of the snow. I paint rather expressively in that I have not the patience to render each window, each brick in the distance, each blade of grass,  but prefer to capture the value, shape and impression of the landscape while focusing with more detail on the figure, the subject of the piece.

Wyll is brilliant. She is someone who listens and gives beautifully insightful advice, provides inspiration to me as a person and artist, and truly makes the world a more beautiful place with her in it. I am thankful to know her. We are both only children and solitary by nature, yet this fact strengthens our kinship. We have a silent symbiosis which is rare and I appreciate deeply.

Here are two other paintings of Wyll I did in 2005. I will write about them individually at a later time but it shows how people and artists change, how technique shifts and personalities coalesce. Friendships, like everything in life, constantly evolve, so that, as T.S. Eliot once wrote "we shall not cease from exploration, and at the end of our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." 

  

"Bloor Street West Café", 2005, oil on canvas, 10"x30"

"New Place", 2005, oil on canvas, 16"x20"

Here are some snippets of paintings that will appear in my solo show on Newfoundland in November at Abbozzo Gallery in Oakville, Ontario. I am working steadily on new pieces each day. It will be an exciting show! You can find out more information about the exhibition on my website here. One of the paintings has already sold and the show is still 10 months away! If you are interested in seeing the pieces please contact Abbozzo Gallery. 

On another note, Bravo! Canada filmed a special profiling my work in 2007. It will be airing on Bravo! Channel all across Canada on Monday, February 9th at 8:30am Eastern Standard Time. I hope you are able to catch it! It is on at an odd time but thank goodness for PVRs.

Have a wonderful day,

Heather

"Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself."~T.S. Eliot