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Artists are mesmerized by colour. We swirl it on the palette and stare at the patterns it makes. I was recently given some Canadian handmade paint from the Stoneground Paint Company by one of my dearest friends. (Thank you, Bronwen!). I was swirling some incredible Manganese Violet on a natural palette: a pearlescent shell collected from the shore by her lovely daughter. (Thank you, Indy!).  There is evidence that Van Gogh, in his passion for colour or perhaps due to his mental illness, squeezed paint from the tube directly into his mouth; the bright yellow pigment staining his copper coloured...

There is a quote on my desk written in Sharpie marker: "Writer's Block is a phony, made up, BS excuse for not doing your work." It's from Jerry Seinfeld, one of my comedic heroes. I love philosophy. Some "old friends" are Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, who have been with me most of my life and continue to inspire me. On my own personal creative journey however, it's the Masters of Comedy who lead the way. I read their books and plays, watch their stand up routines, listen to every interview with them that I can find. The common denominator is...

Some things just rattle you. Many years ago, I stood at a desk, watching a famous watercolourist create magic in front of my eyes. What shook me was the fact that she used a FULL roll of toilet paper to remove excess water from her brush. I couldn't believe the waste; I didn't understand why someone capturing the beauty of nature wouldn't work to protect it rather than create more garbage in the name of art. John Muir Laws the naturalist, artist and educator is the person who explained ways to respect the natural world as you paint, especially outside....

We don't "need" to find new descriptions for Spring. Poets and musicians have struggled valiantly to put words and music to this glorious season for centuries. We find each year, our hearts continue to fill with indescribable joy as Spring arrives. In my artist's brain however, I think of Spring as "Baby Bear Time". In the story of Goldilocks, everything that belonged to the baby bear was "just right" and that describes my feeling perfectly. My heart pounds to see Chartreuse green popping out everywhere. That loud, defiant, magical colour is determined to make the seasons change. Winter, despite the...

High school yearbooks are a treasure trove for me. Hours spent turning the pages are never wasted; there is always a new discovery, from old hairstyles to popular songs of the day. My Grandmother lived in a small town in Quebec and had a stack of yearbooks from the late 1960s, before the high school had become the local elementary. I pored over the pages, deciding who seemed the most accomplished, who was the prettiest, who was most likely to become my Prince Charming one day. (It was W., who graduated the year I turned five!!!) The lesson about how...