VULNERABILITY

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

 A verse from Leonard Cohen’s Anthem

Allowing ourselves to display vulnerability is one of the hardest, and most courageous acts we can undertake as humans. It requires acknowledgment, first and foremost to ourselves, but also, to others, that we are not the perfect beings we have projected ourselves to be. But acknowledging our chinks, or "cracks" as Cohen so succinctly described them, can open the door to incredible personal growth, healing, and new experiences. 

Over the last twenty years, my art has been taking me on a journey of self discovery. It is helping me unearth, unravel, and consequently, better understand, who I am, and why I am. I use this understanding to help navigate my way though life moving forward. 

But it is not always an onward movement. Sometimes I find myself taking ten steps back, a comment, or perhaps an action by another, triggering a response in me, that catapults, me into a landslide of self doubt, and if hurtful enough, severe anxiety.   Only, by remaining kind and patient with myself, and by using the tools I have at my disposal: my art, my support systems, my research, my willingness to acknowledge, am  I able to work my way through. When I do, I emerge a little stronger, a little more self aware, and, coincidently, a little more empathetic towards others. Because of the cracks, the light is able to get in. 

The Path Forward # 2

HOME

The term home has come up numerous times in my writings about my art: Home, as it relates to a living environment, and home, as it refers to the actual structure in which one lives. One might argue that house is a better defining term, but I beg to differ. I have lived in houses that have never felt like home. Home is more than a structure. Home, is a place where one feels they fully belong.

Over the years, I have been on a quest; a quest to find not only the environment in which I would reside long term, but a search for the right home within that environment. As part of my quest, I have travelled to different countries. I have also resided in different provinces within a country, to make that realization happen. My husband and I have significantly renovated a house twice, and completed a new build once, trying to establish a home in which I could be happy. But neither house fully fit the bill. The first house I loved, but the environment around I could never fully connect with. The second house, although I loved the surrounding environment, the structure itself never fully felt like home.

 Instinctively I knew I would find the right home, a home that encompassed both environment and structure. I didn't think it would take over twenty years to complete the mission. But it did. Two weeks ago my family bought our long term home. We have yet to move in, but I knew, we knew we had found home, from our very first visit. We have looked at what must amount to over a hundred houses, but this one particular house, struck a chord with each of us: visually, atmospherically, layout, landscaping, and surrounding environment. It met everything on our needs list, and more. We are looking forward to the moment we can make the house a part of our lives, for it to become our longterm home.

First sign of home

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW SERIES

In my last blog, When Life and Subject Intertwine, I mentioned my insistent focus on drawing the fog alarm building on Saturna Island, despite my  intention to focus on the landscape surrounding this hut. It was almost as if I had little control over my direction. But Why? Why, do I have so little control over my work's direction? Why is my subconscious insistent in taking my work in the directions it does?

With each series I undertake, particularly if the series involves some form of architectural study, I am being taken on a parallel study into my own life. Every one of these series, investigates an element of me; an event in my life, an aspect of my life, my family history. I am never fully aware, where, or why a series will take me in this direction, until a series is fully on its way, or sometimes, until it is developed completely. I have learned to trust my instincts.

In the case of the Saturna series, I suspected early, that my focus on the fog alarm building had something to do with the imminent trip I was making to Australia. It had been seven years since my last visit. I was not born in Canada. I grew up in Perth, Western Australia. My parents and sisters still live there to this day. I began working on the Saturna series before I left. I continued immediately once I returned. My focus on the depicting the fog alarm building, has everything to do with my processing this journey. Something about the simplicity of the hut's form, Its clean lines, its almost childlike naivety,  was forcing me to look at the concept of home, and what it means to me. It was also forcing me to process the emotional turmoil my return trip could, and indeed would, bring to the foreground.

Thus far, my Saturna series has evolved into ten, large scale depictions of a small, simple form building, awash in atmospheric backgrounds. 

HOME # 1

WHEN LIFE AND SUBJECT INTERTWINE

I began my series of drawings of Saturna Island, knowing I would focus my initial studies on the fog alarm building at East Point. I was drawn to this building the moment I first saw it. Imagine: Standing on a peninsular looking out. To your left, to your right, and directly in front, lay stretches of glistening water. Sky and water meet in the distance. Islands dot the water in between. Behind you, surrounded by tall, golden, grasses is a small, white building. Now picture in your mind, the houses you drew when you were a child, the simple forms with windows, a door and the steeply pitched roof. This is exactly what the fog alarm building looks like.

We are lucky enough to have the opportunity to stay in a wonderful cottage on the island within walking distance of the hut; early mornings, afternoons, early evenings. Every time of day bringing with it a different light, and with every change in light, a different persona, in both the building and its surrounding landscape. I described Saturna as magical in my last blog. The fog hut on Saturna and its surroundings epitomizes such magic.

When I began drawing, I focused most of my attention on the correlation between the hut, and the landscape. But it quickly became evident another element was coming into play. At the moment, my family and I are currently searching for a house to buy. I say house lightly. What we are really seeking is a place to call home, a house that feels right the moment we walk into it. Does such a place exist? I believe it does. Like the magic on Saturna, it is something you feel, but can’t quite put into words. Perhaps the simple form of the fog building, perhaps its relationship with its surroundings, or perhaps the feeling that everything is just as it should be, building and landscape coexisting harmoniously as one, brought up thoughts of home as I was working, the home we are searching for, and the home of my childhood. Life and subject intertwined.

SATURNA ISLAND  # 1