These works were made in response to climate change and environmental degradation. Some of the pieces were made by disassembling and reassembling a hiking guidebook. One was made by reassembling a map-book for Toronto, imagining it far in the future as an island. The smaller prints are multi-block linocut prints printed on vintage topographical maps of the Canadian Rockies. All raise the question of what will be lost if we do not address the global challenge of climate change.
This series explores the surfaces and shapes of the landscape. Slight variations in observed color are taken to the limit. Extraneous detail is suppressed. These landscapes are rural Ontario, but the big skies often evident remind me of the prairies that are also a part of my soul.
Many of these pieces are based on moments captured from a moving car, and show pieces of the highway. So much of what we experience of the landscape is from a car.
These mixed media works include transferred lettering and acrylic skins to capture the emotion of a moment. Some of these are inspired by real or imagined landscapes, and others are simply ideas I am reaching for and not quite able to define. The bold use of colour, the abstracted shapes, and incorporation of ephemera such as stamps invite the viewer to make their own story and ponder their own meanings.
This series explores the cycles of our days, our weeks, our seasons, and how each has its own mood. Largely abstract, each piece captures a moment or a feeling of a day. The exuberance of a sunny Saturday when time stretches before us, generous and hopeful. The quiet of an contemplative afternoon. The energy of the start of a work week. Each of these moments has its own feeling and energy. As an artist, I am always trying to capture and hold that moment, look at it in the flow of time passing.
Loosely painted, but still rooted in the landscape. These pieces are often focused on capturing the feeling of a moment, of the passage of time, of wind and clouds and currents, of bright light sparkling on water.
