I am proud to be one of the artists chosen to be part of the Tracing Boundaries exhibition at the Slide Room Gallery. The opening reception is Friday March 16th at 6pm and there will be a Curator’s Talk at 6:30pm. I had a quick peak at the show this morning and I was amazed at how wonderful everything looks! The artists are very talented and hard-working and it really shows in their art, and the curatorial team did a fantastic job with the hanging. Please come and join us tomorrow for the opening!

Exactly one year ago today I was deep cleaning our apartment before traveling to Europe with my husband to attend an artist residency in the fairytale town of Český Krumlov in the Czech Republic. I am so thankful I had this opportunity to get to create art and exhibit abroad. It pushed me and challenged me and introduced me to so many wonderful people. Looking forward, I am excited to have been accepted to a residency in Petrozavodsk (Петрозаводск), in Russia this spring. I love to travel and experience new places. And it is really amazing how art can connect people despite having different backgrounds. I also find spending time away always renews my appreciation for what I have at home: friends, family and a familiar landscape (and seascape) where I fit into and belong. Last week I was surprised by an unexpected package in the mail from a dear friend that I used to sail with in Europe. She had come across a random nautical chart of Victoria Harbour and decided to send it to me! I have enjoyed pouring over the details of this lovely, used map and it has made its way into my art. I have had extra time off this week and have been experimenting creating chart-inspired drawings of local geography. I have been playing with layering intensities of ink, mimicking the fluctuating submarine topography, AKA contour lines, of our local ocean floor. When I travel I find I gain a lot more from the experience if I am making art about those places, so I guess it is no surprise that this also happens to be true when at home. Reflecting back on this year, I see I have been doing a lot of thinking about place and belonging. Sometimes it just takes a little shift of perspective, a new point of view, of something familiar to give you a whole new appreciation.

As many artists in Victoria know, it is hard to find space to create. I am extremely thankful for my lovely studio space at the Vancouver Island School of Art (VISA)!

This coming Saturday, December 16th, from 12-4 VISA will be hosting their annual Open House, showcasing student artworks created over this past semester. This is a fantastic event full of really interesting art! During the Open House I welcome you to come check out my studio and see what I have been working on lately!

My studio is located on the upper level of the Vancouver Island School of Art.

First door on the right, far right studio.

2549 Quadra St, Victoria

Lately, I have been reading a lot about early whale research. What I find hard to get over is the idea of trying to depict something that you have never seen before… and to strive for accuracy.

In early pursuits of science this happened frequently. Although explorers often had skilled artists on board to document the discovery of new plants, animals and geography, there was often too much to record in the moment. Many detailed descriptions of strange creatures were recorded and brought back to later be captured by the artists’ hand.

At this point in history mystery covered the surface of the oceans and sailors sailed filled with excitement and fear. In these far distant reaches of the globe lived a multitude of monsters and fanciful creatures that challenged the very limits of imagination.

This gets even harder when you consider creatures that only reveal themselves momentarily while they take a breath. Only showing a fraction of their bodies. These artists had to employ both their observational powers as well as a healthy imagination to fill in the blanks. They were trying desperately to see what they did not know.

I started this series of drawings on the premise of trying not to see what I do know. After drawing and painting 100’s of whales I feel like I have a good understanding of what they look like and how to draw them. As a fun challenge I decided to try to draw them with my eyes closed to see if what I come up with has a similar feel to that of early whale drawings. With a specific whale species in mind I closed my eyes, pictured a whale and slowly and hesitantly drew the outer line. Then, I went back into each drawing adding in the detail.

Recently I’ve been going back to an idea that I have been working on for a while now about alternative ways of mapping. Previously I made a few series of embossed charts focused on areas of high whale activity. The Strait of Gibraltar, the Maldives, the east coast of New Zealand’s South Island, the Alaskan Archipelago, etc. I have spent a lot of time researching and thinking about these places and which ones to include. And yet I actually live in a special whale place, which it seems I had overlooked.

The waters around Vancouver Island, our Gulf Islands and the San Juan Islands are some of the richest, most fertile in the world. Our waters resemble a swirling pot of soup, thick and green with marine plant life (both micro and macroscopic), filter feeders, bottom feeders, amphipods, isopods, crustaceans and creatures abounding. Some whales travel great distances to come to our local waters to feed, while other consider it their permanent residence.  This is a special location that we get to share with some of the most awe-inspiring and complex creatures on the globe. The waters here are deep, riddled with fault lines, trenches and broken islands. The currents that flow between the island patchwork are strong and stir this bubbling pot of sea-soup.

Living on an island has its benefits. The main, and obvious, one being that it never takes long to get to the ocean. Anytime I am at the ocean I look for whales. Zigzagging an invisible search pattern back and forth from the horizon, across the waves, to the shore below and back again. Once in a long time I see something. A flash of white on the distant horizon. It disappears as quickly as I’m able to register it. I see it a few more times and then it disappears entirely. The other day my husband pointed out a black shape gliding effortlessly through the waves. It looked big. Like a giant, fallen tree born by some hidden current. Yet it appeared to be moving of its own will. Straining my eyes, it moved further and further away making it impossible to tell. It is these moments when I start to doubt myself and believe in sea monsters. After all, if I did see something it must only be a tiny speck of some mammoth creature lurking below. Really, it could be anything.

Often this is my experience of seeing “whales”. Yet every once in a while they reveal themselves in way that stops my heart, sends chills through my body and catches me mid breath. I am always searching for whales from the shore. But I am not sure that I actually believe I will see one. Then it happens. Rising from the undisturbed water with the power of a machine and the delicacy of a dancer. Throwing its body into the air then thundering down, crashing through the surface. My blood stands still. I am filled with respect for this giant creature that at one moment is a ghost that makes me question and doubt myself and the next a thundering beast towering over me and my own significance.

….but back to art. Recently I have been working on a series of local, underwater charts. Places that I know well. Places that I have been. Places that I have even seen whales. We are used to seeing maps of places, but are only given half of the information.  Water is often described as flat, blue, negative spaces defining the shapes of land and the information contained inside. In these charts I do the reversal. Allowing the flat, black shapes of land to punch holes through the water. And giving me the freedom to look at this place I call home from another angle.

For more images of this series, please click here.

I am proud of have this brand new series of embossed charts displayed in The Shop by Rhubarb Designs on Salt Spring Island. If you are in the area, please check them out!

This article by Michelle Aldredge discusses Babel’s Bricks, an exhibition in Massachusetts, USA, curated by Corwin Levi in Gallery 51. This group show of 20 artists, myself included, focuses on the human desire to play, to build, and rebuild and as an artist to create work out smaller pieces, building to create something larger.

Photos: Michelle Aldredge & Corwin Levi

A little while ago I was asked to create a piece for an exhibition in Massachusetts. The premise of the show focuses on how small parts are stacked to create a piece of art. Corwin Levi, the curator, put it this way,  “Lines make a drawing, strokes make a painting, pieces make a sculpture, and seconds stacked on seconds make a video.” …and group of whales make a pod!

I created this collection of drawings in response to this show. They represent the total population of our Southern Resident Killer Whale population off Vancouver Island: 78. I continue to be struck by the uniqueness of individuals within a group, and by the idea of “the specimen”. This could keep me busy for a long time!

Southern Resident Killer Whales, ink on paper

Southern Resident Killer Whales, ink on paper

For the past few months I have been doing a lot of thinking about how the pursuit of science and knowledge has a tendency to make specimens out of subjects. I think it must be human nature to desire to own perfectly packaged little parcels of nature; neatly sealed up, clean, clinical and perfect. Like a butterfly on a collectors wall.

Recently I have been working on a series of ten small drawings (approx.. 1.5″ x 2″) of Southern Resident Killer Whale specimens.

Here is a sneak peak: