My first art-related memory is of a project in Kindergarten. We were in small groups and we traced the contour of one of the children lying down on a long sheet of banner paper. We were making angels. Whether we were helped with drawing the outline of the wings or did that ourselves I don’t remember, but I do remember the feeling of shock and outrage when one of my fellow students started to colour in one of the wings with brown. This was wrong, and I said so.
This memory stands out because I’ve always been very particular and felt sure about the way things should look. For myself, obviously—since Kindergarten I’ve learned that other people have their own ideas. I know when a collage or painting is right and I know when what I’ve done doesn’t cut it, though I might be hard pressed to explain the distinction.
But that’s only one small aspect to art making.
An artist statement is supposed to explain why the artist makes art, but in my case I don't have a clear answer. Because that’s who I am? Because I was born that way? Because it calms me, and other things don’t. Because when I'm producing art the irritating, pestering functions of my brain shut down and something much more mysterious and elemental takes over.
I graduated with Distinction from Concordia University in Montréal in 1989 with a BFA major in Painting. I’d been planning to study languages, and/or psychology and world religions, but in a moment of madness I switched to Fine Arts. After graduating I eventually settled in Victoria, BC—lək̓ʷəŋən traditional territory—where my husband and I raised a stellar daughter. Lack of time and space compelled me to explore collage, and I did that for years. In 2015 I returned to painting with a vengeance. I also like writing, reading, taking photos, and singing.
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