The Nature of Island Artists

I have been asked to participate once again in this bi-annual fundraiser for The Goldstream Nature House which continues through September until October 12, 2009. Over 70 Vancouver Island and Gulf Island artists are exhibiting their creations: wood and stone sculpture; oil, acrylic and watercolour painting, photography, fabric art, clay works and much more.

"The theme of this year's show is 'Art to Heart: Connecting with Nature through the Creation of Art'. There are many ways to connect with our environment, but there is a particular intimacy in the connection made between an artist and their subject. This year...we will be running nature art programs in which schoolchildren will get the chance to immerse themselves in nature and forge those important emotional connections. We will also be exhibiting "inspired by nature" murals created by local Vancouver Island classes. Funding in schools has reached a critical low and opportunities for field trips and activities have become fewer. For more than a decade, schoolchildren were able to attend educational programs and experience the salmon run firsthand at Goldstream Provincial Park for free because of provincial funding. In April 2002, this funding was withdrawn and hundreds of classes were missing the opportunity to connect with nature. Fortunately, the Goldstream Nature House and the Habitat Acquisition Trust have been endeavoring to provide these educational experiences to children by raising funds to offset the cost for schools wishing to attend salmon run programs. One of the ways we make this possible is through the proceeds raised from the Nature of Island Arts Show." Nicole Polet, Naturalist, Goldstream Nature House

Field Study © 2009 Kristine Paton SOLD

Artists' works are available for purchase outright and some through a silent auction bidding process. Visit the gift section where you will find prints and art cards for sale. Every little bit helps!

Artist's Blog on Artists' Block

I never gave much thought to the concept of the blocked artist because I didn’t think it applied to me. Once I am in the studio, I have no problem applying that first stroke to the canvas nor do I lack inspiration… in fact, I have far too many ideas and images wanting expression. However, I have recently learned that a blocked artist is one who finds it difficult to actually get to the studio… and that would be me! Friends are forever saying, “Quit doing all this other stuff and just paint would you? Paint, paint, paint!”

But “all this other stuff” holds as much interest for me as does painting; at least that’s what I thought until someone gave me the book “A Life in the Arts: An expanded workbook edition of Staying Sane in the Arts” (which I will read next) and discovered I just might be the proverbial blocked artist. Who knew!? And what is the cause of this blockage which, unlike my arteries, can’t be blamed on Ms. Vickie’s chips or 7 Layer Dip?

Although clinical depression or mania is no joking matter, I sometimes refer to myself as bi-polar, manic, having ADD, etc., in an off-hand manner. Well that may actually be the case, a prerequisite to being an artist, and here are several excerpts to illuminate the causes:

“Your intense, driven, and sometimes enthusiastic way of being may have a manic feel to it. This restrained mania may become one of your characteristic moods: your mind racing, hands moving, dreams vivid, art more alive to you… I attribute part of this manic edge to the fact that artists are gambling every day… Art-making is one of the greatest gambles of all. As Helen Frankenthaler, the visual artist, put it, ‘No matter how fine or meticulous or tortured a picture may be in execution, the risk or chance of its working or not working is always there, no matter what the method.’ It is a high-stakes gamble, after all, to work with all of your being on something that has so great a chance of failing.”

This could explain why so many artists who rely on their art for income are propelled to repeat past successes; safety and freedom from anxiety are not found in the unknown. The true artist in our midst, and there are few today, is not a formula painter, dancer, writer, poet, etc., and perhaps this is why I often block. Yes, I am a painter, but I wish to be an artist in many forms:

“You have the desire to honestly communicate the truth as you understand it. Frequently you’re the only one in your neighbourhood making such an effort. You’re the one who must tell your grandmother’s story, your father’s story, or your own story as best you can. And since the truth is frequently painful and rarely profitable, few except you are interested in championing it… Standing apart, holding your own counsel, attuned to both the beautiful and the moral, you are the one able and willing to point out the naked emperor, the stench coming from the closet, the starvation right around the corner, the colors of the far mountains as the eye really sees them...

There are cynical artists who withhold the truth from their art in order to gain an audience and make money, just as there are cynical clergy who preach while neither loving nor believing… Other artists will tell only a fraction of the truth of what they know to be true, or will alter or subvert the truth, because of self-censorship, a desire to be popular, or a desire not to offend. These are both manifestations of the impulse to have and keep an audience… Every artist internally debates this issue. Should he sing the equivalent of a jingle or the equivalent of a hymn?”

Copyright © 1992, 1994 by Eric Maisel, Ph.D.

Being Me and Being You

The following poem ©Douglas Malloch is from a book I am currently reading. I decided to post it here so that I can read it whenever I want to be someone else:

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley—but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush, if you can't be a tree.

If you can't be a bush, be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can't be a muskie, then just be a bass—
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can't all be captains, we've got to be crew,
There's something for all of us here.
There's big work to do and there's lesser to do
And the task we must do is the near.

If you can't be a highway, then just be a trail,
If you can't be the sun, be a star;
It isn't by size that you win or you fail—
Be the best of whatever you are!

Going... Going... Gone!

Gone But Not Forgotten

Some of you may recall one of the first watercolours (pictured above) I painted almost 20 years ago: "Cooling Off", later reproduced in a limited quantity, is of the dock and logs at Mason's Beach. Well, if you haven't driven past Mason's Beach in a while, you may notice something missing when you do. I am not alone in leaving Shawnigan Lake.

A little over a week ago, I decided to take Molly back to the lake for a swim; she liked to walk the logs in an attempt to catch a big fish living under the dock. Imagine my surprise upon arrival to see two men (who I soon found out where from the CVRD) in separate boats removing the last log from the beach... and the dock was no where to be found. Why? Insurance. Because too many people were suing the CVRD if their kid happened to fall off a log and knock out a tooth or break something. Why? Because today there are no accidents and no one is responsible for their own actions. Back in my day (I am that old!) if anyone hurt themselves jumping off cliffs, walking logs, diving off docks other than their own, no one was responsible but themselves. The excitement was worth the risk. Now we have people suing their friends if they get a splinter in their butt from a hot tub...and why not, the friends don't pay, the insurance company does. And don't even get me going on the vandals, which is another reason the dock had to go. For many years not a single board went missing in action, but recently the ripping, smashing and general mayhem is increasing at a ridiculous rate. So, don't call the CVRD to whine about the loss of yet another Shawnigan pastime (no more right of passage walking the logs... oh and bye bye Quarry, too).

It was serendipitous that I just happened to have my camera with me that day and I am not ashamed to admit I actually got a tear in my eye as I photographed the last log sailing out of sight.

RSP: Our Life Savings

I would have you talk
to my father if I could
dead at 53 — an expert
on early retirement

or to my mother
left alone with all
their plans, the means
now available

but she no longer has
the right combination
to access these
two lives saved up for later.



© Kristine Paton

Freedom 55 — The Real Deal

I wrote that poem years ago; it explains why I don't have the conventional retirement savings plan. This Friday, June 12, I will celebrate my 55th birthday which is two years older than my father when he died. Who knew he was so young!

I'm pushing 60 and perhaps some buttons but, hey, it wouldn't be the first time and it won't be the last. Finally, I am entering my crone phase, fully embracing the title and what it means to be a crone, both good and bad. It is only in our culture that the word 'crone' is seen as detrimental and more representative of the 'witch' or 'hag' (well... if the shoe fits). In most cultures other than our materialistic, image conscious, American influenced, westernized culture, the crone is also revered as a wise woman, often mystical, having earned her status as such by surviving whatever life has thrown at her and thereby gaining knowledge and wisdom — not to confuse the two.

So, what does Freedom 55 mean to me? I am overcoming past heartbreaks, both given and received; forgiven myself and anyone else. I have downsized and am debt free and hold a 5 acre clear title chunk of raw land in my back pocket. What do I know? That it could all change in the blink of an eye. What does the future hold? Who knows, who cares? And so, I have learned to trust God not money, live in the 'now' (not because of Mr. Eckhart Tolle) and to take each day's assault of fears as they come.

Give me the simple life. Coffee (yes, COFFEE not decaf) in the morning, fresh duck eggs, true grains bread, free range chicken and local farm produce, fresh water not bottled, local wine & cheese, a good book, walks with Molly and just enough work to make it all possible. You can keep your Blackberries, your 80 hour work week, the Yummy Mummy Club, the spinning class (unless it's a good yarn), the hot yoga and, definitely, most definitely, the stock market
... and forget Facebook. You need family, whether their yours or someone elses, a few really close flesh and blood friends, and good neighbours.

That's it — my Freedom 55. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a nice cup of Dilmah (the best black tea ever) and a good book waiting for me in the back yard. And look, there's an extra chair.