Hello! Welcome to my world.
I don’t work in one style or medium. When it comes to the picture books, each picture book’s story has a different theme and mood. As a result the art changes to better suit the story, extend the theme and mood of each book. And for my paintings (non-illustrative work), I flit back and forth from portraits, to landscapes, to surreal stuff, to figurative works and on to big themed classical style paintings. Sometimes a project is done for money, most often as a personal challenge, possibly a blend of other artist’s styles, or something I think might be just fun. What links my children’s books to my classical-styled works are the themes.
And no, I’m not telling you what themes I’m interested in. If I tell people what the themes are – what my work, at heart, is about then I don’t learn from the experience of listening to people who take the time to interpret my work. Democracy is 50% speaking and 50% listening. Rather than dictate to people what the art is all about, it’s much more valuable to me to listen to people’s interpretations of my work to see if what I planned actually lands in a viewers head. Art doesn’t have to be a puzzle or game to be solved, but if an artist really has something to say they should probably find a method of figuring out if they are any good at saying it. Otherwise all the artist is producing is portfolio art. Portfolio art is “art” that simply says, “Look what I can do!” and “This is my style!” and “This is what I like to do!” And that’s about it. What richness there could be that goes beyond aesthetics and personal choice that could potentially delve into our human commonalities is left unexamined. To explore only aesthetics, for an artist with talent, isn’t much of a challenge. Aesthetics, despite what art historians might say, is only a small part of what an artist can do.
For most of my stories with their illustrations, and a few of my paintings, I attempt to mix the best properties of High Art and Low Art (Popular Art). In doing so I employ the four primary historical functions of art that are perennial to human nature. These four functions have been employed by our ancestors for thousands of years in all cultures the world over, which continue to operate today, primarily in popular and tribal cultures. Each of the four functions have many sub-functions. Knowing what these functions are and how they operate gives me confidence in my choices and expands dramatically on a good idea when I get one. They also direct me to endless sources of subject matter.
My favourite mediums in order are watercolour, graphite, oil, acrylics, and photography. Watercolour is so much fun because its results are sometimes unpredictable and can lead to happy accidents. For figure drawing sessions, using watercolour can end in disaster very quickly, but when it works!! Wow! It’s almost as if a heavenly muse took control of my mind and added to my work. Watercolour sometimes just likes to do its own thing. It’s all about the tools, the paper, and the familiarity with everything involved. Watercolour teaches you how to paint. Painting in oil is easy by comparison. And both mediums allow for glazing, which… again… Wow! When it works, you feel like a master artist.
Working in Graphite is very direct. Nothing bleeds, strays, or mixes much unless you want it to. Graphite is a great way to have total control. And it’s the best way to plan a larger painting. I’m surprised by the lack of interest in drawings in the gallery scene. I heard there was a National Art Gallery of Canada director who in his decades long tenure never purchased a single drawing for the gallery. Idiot. Drawing is fundamental, but if you’re a hard core modernist – and an anti-classicist – it’s probably because drawing reveals very quickly whether an artist has any actual talent or not. Something that is hard to do with modern art. I know, I sound mean, but the social realm of the art world is something only novelists write about. We’re not supposed to talk about this stuff. Shhhh.
Oil outdoes watercolour only by being dramatic. Oils have can have more brightness, boldness, texture, contrast, versatility etc. And if you treat oil like watercolour, you can get some of the same effects. But oil is stinky, messy (gets everywhere) and heavy and often problematic for your health if you don’t have a big studio and can’t open the windows in winter. I don’t have a big studio, so being a neat freak becomes important.
Below is an illustration for a book I’ve been working on for many years, Lara Wood. It’s oil and smaller than it looks. If you look closely you can see Lara being followed by a wolf. The above landscape is semi-thick oil, gaining in thickness and loosening up in brush application from top to bottom. The Lara Wood painting is all thin oils with some glazing and some dry brush.
A number of study drawings were done for Lara Wood, but not with enough detail. I tried to invent quite a few things from my head and that mistake cost me a lot of time. The better illustrations had the better drawings. Years ago I had a young woman pose for me, Lara Wilson. I liked the name Lara and used her name for the book. I paid a seamstress to make Lara a farmer’s dress. We went to Goldstream Park and Beacon Hill in Victoria for photo sessions. I got her to climb trees, cross logs, hike trails – all barefoot. One day I’ll complete the book, but in the meantime I’ve developed it into a dramatic story for adults, which I also have to finish. (Too many ideas and not enough time!) 
Illustration for an upcoming children’s picture book, The Girl from the Moon. Watercolour and ink.
The above illustration is for The Girl from the Moon. It’s primarily watercolour with a bit of ink work for the path and the little characters. The book will be a companion piece to The Boy from the Sun (winner of a couple national awards back in 2007). I love the concept I’ve got, but it’s so grand I may have to settle for a minimized version.
This scene of a Beacon Hill waterfront, splattered with logs and sticks is pure watercolour. It was a delight to paint and got so many positive reactions that I could have sold it a hundred times over. Instead I gave it to friends I made in Holland who let me stay with them when a volcano went off in Iceland and nearly all flights across the Atlantic were cancelled.
Portraits! Again, I haven’t chosen one style in which to do portraits. I love the approaches of Rembrandt, Wyeth, Freud, Nerdrum, Varley and too many more to list, including (a big shoutout!) a roster of black American and Canadian portrait artists who have topped the art scene in the last twenty years.
To do portraits, I used to work primarily from photographs, but in the few years I’ve decided to draw and paint from life. With my figure drawings my favourites are always the ones drawn from life. The focus and immediacy that’s required to capture not only the likeness, but the spirit of the person in a live drawing is subtly different enough. With all my hundreds of figure drawings I can tell immediately which ones were done from life and which ones from a photo. So for the oil portraits I’ve decided to a batch of portraits as much from life as I can. Trouble is, everyone is busy. And the painting stage takes time. The third painting above, from the left is Samantha, which was started with a live drawing and then with additions at a later session. If I may be so bold, it’s almost at a “masterpiece” level. I think if I get Samantha to sit again and I glaze the painting for subtleties it could be worthy of a national gallery. We’ll see. (By the way, outside of Thunder Bay, no one collects my works – I’m a complete unknown.
Part of a series I’ve started, semi-portraiture with a thematic edge, are the fourth and sixth paintings from the right. I’m featuring children as the focal points within a background that the children have painted themselves.
Lara Wood makes her way through a dying forest. A wizard has put a curse on the land and Lara is seeking him out to have words with him. Here, a wolf is trailing her and Lara suspects the wolf has its own mission.
The illustration below is from the GG and Schwartz Award winning book, The Boy from the Sun. (Margaret Atwood was on the jury for the Governor General’s Award that year!) The essential meaning behind the book is, ultimately: choose your own path. However! It’s not that simple. There’s a lot more to this “simple” or “basic” book for children. Allegory is fantastic when it works, and I think it works here. Some people find this book pale in its meaning with a sappy poem, but others have tried to climb into it. (Seriously, I’ve heard from parents that their 1.5 year old kids have opened the book, laid it out on the floor and tried to climb into the pages.) And children who’ve grown up with my book have told me it’s their favourite children’s book. So, that’s nice.
