This friday, I'm teaching an open-to-all fashion illustration workshop at Freedom Gallery - held in conjunction with my October exhibition CLOTHED MATTERS.
Thankfully this wonderful album, does not feature said track - or my accompanying ten year-old vocals.
My foray into the world of graphic novels. In this case, just a proposal for someone else. But I have my own exciting things on the horizon. Just you wait...(!)
One week alone equals headway on four different tattoo commissions, significant progress on my exhibition in july, five books read, and a sixth half done.
Apparently I should do this more often.
Above is one of my favourite pieces thus far in a new series. And below is one of my favourite moments from all that literature:
"the questions i really wanted to ask were, 'are you in love?' and 'what are you reading?'"
A revolution of small talk, i wish i had the guts to institute today. Who doesn't love scandelous 19 year old french authors from the 1950's.
One of my three favourite places in the world, is on a dock.
Days one and two in the woods have consisted of giant power tools, putting up drywall, hammering in salvaged trim and other stuff with my Dad. And I'm pretty okay with that. Day three is the beginning of isolation (with the exception of quick jaunts into town on my bike.... like right now to the only local coffee shop with wifi) & some quality dock/art time.
One night we were going to a concert, when a friend found this on the ground outside the Biltmore in Vancouver. And I have to say, I'm all about to do lists (especially this one). Firstly, you feel an instant sense of accomplishment in writing one. And secondly, there is something unbelievably satisfying about crossing something off.
My never ending to do list is comprised of many things. One of which is to live at my family's half finished cabin for a while.
So moved out of my apartment. leaving behind barren walls and better acoustics. And instead have headed north with a duffel bag, bicycle, copious amounts of art supplies and a fully stocked ipod.
For me, art & music have always gone hand in hand. So today, instead of a drawing (as there will be many in the weeks to come), a mixtape of sorts.
And so my favouite motown track & some sketches from this past weekend to kick off the summer.
I’ve been a bit of an insomniac lately, and when i do sleep, it’s been full of strange dreams.
Yesterday i had three. You know the type, the ones that bleed into the next.
In the first, I was sailing a gigantic ship over enormous waves in the middle of cottage country. But the ship would bend over each wave, like a rubber sole, so that the masts would cross. Despite being thrown about the rigging, everyone (being miscellaneous friends i couldn’t place) seemed pretty happy. The sun was blinding, and we would high five every time the masts bent close enough.
And then, it was night and David Suzuki was trying to teach my crew, the “dangers of isolation while ice fishing,” by dramatically faking a suicide and throwing himself off an ice flow (why one would fish off an ice flow is beyond me). But, just as we were getting worried, he popped back up grinning wildly, and lifts something above his head. “Don’t worry I have a secret rope!” and pulled himself back up and out of the black water.
And then, I woke up the next morning to find a birds nest at the back of my head. Literally. My hair had been woven into a tiny basket. My dream self was confused as to how this might have happened, and eventually concluded that a group of swallows must have come and done it while i slept.
And then my real self woke up (it's always strange waking up twice), and thought it was such a bizarre and pretty little image that i had to draw it immediately.
It was my birthday friday.
A weekend where the air was heavy with spring rain. Thunderstorms that have been skirting the edges of the weather forecast for the last few days.
A weekend of grainy slides projected across darkened living rooms, and my nephew blowing out my candles before i had the chance. A weekend of crowded backyards and clusters of bicycles like metal bouquets. A weekend of campfires and the silhouetted backs of houses. A brick fortress with blackened windows.
For as long as I can remember, it’s a day that feels more like new years than january 1st. It’s always coinsided with the start of warmer weather, the end of school (when that was remotely relevent), and I suppose the illusion of a fresh start. If I were the sort of person to make resolutions I might do them now. But I find it kind of silly to make promises to yourself only once a year. I’d like to think that one can be capable of change and/or challenging oneself at any time, and not strictly during the first few weeks of january.
So in the spirit of change and of challenge, the largest pen & ink piece i’ve done to date - a commissioned work, inspired by the series did back in 2008, measuring 2’x3’.
Funny how i’ve now done not one, but two, queen of hearts portraits, as she is probably the one whom i relate to least in a deck of cards.
I’ve always been a fan of the queen of spades myself.
I spent the early part of this year, shifting between the isolated wilds of northern alberta and the warm coast of british colombia. Both provinces contained a barrage of new friends, that felt like old ones. Months of living out stories, instead of retelling the ones that have already happened. And since the moment my plane has touched down in toronto, it’s as though i’ve hit the ground running.
This entire year so far has been an acceleration of tiny moments, that feel like big ones.
I finished this tattoo design in the rainy coffee shops of east van, for a roommate i left in alberta. And while i’m so glad to be home, it reminds me fondly of wood paneled motel rooms, and the muddy backs of pick up trucks.