Sorry, Mom

2012-02-07T02:00:00.000-05:00

Big things.

Some Drawings

2012-02-04T00:22:00.000-05:00

More Roadtrippin

2012-01-28T22:05:00.001-05:00

Five mischievous birds on a fence.

Photographin'.

Gettin' in trouble with the law in Texas City.

Gettin' tattoo'd in Austin. '''

2012-01-25T18:36:00.003-05:00

One painter in another painter's studio. Painters galore.

New Orleans

2012-01-23T18:55:00.001-05:00

PCPL

2012-01-16T00:11:00.000-05:00

Made it through my grad school applications and now there's a great big sad void in my life where that delicious stress was. Whatever to do with myself? Won't be seeing as much of this library as I have lately, but maybe I'll go back there and feverishly type into my laptop just for fun.

Cobra Rock Boot Co.

2012-01-14T22:15:00.001-05:00

Marfa, Texas.

Red Man

2012-01-09T11:53:00.000-05:00

A small one with a little something missing.

Marfa

2012-01-07T01:45:00.000-05:00

Photos and Photos and Photos

2012-01-05T23:40:00.000-05:00

Roadtrip.

Oak Tree

2011-12-12T20:44:00.000-05:00

2011. Another VSC painting.

Games

2011-12-06T20:20:00.001-05:00

Playing Memory with granny's cards.

Website Update

2011-12-02T18:48:00.002-05:00

After an entire year I've gotten around to updating a bit of more recent work work to my website.

More to be updated as I get my act together (which can only happen in waves I'm afraid).

2011-11-15T13:57:00.000-05:00

Going Bananas.

On Painting

2011-11-07T23:19:00.000-05:00

The way I start to fall in love with a painting is not unlike how I fall in love with people. To look at it, not wholly finished but with so much of the right work in the right place, and to see all at once what it is, what it was, and what it will almost certainly become, is to love it unlike anything else to exist.

Too much love at this point would prevent progression so it’s important to maintain ruthlessness, to at all times hold in mind the final point that my brain is certain will arrive – certain to the point that it resents the physical labor and time and effort involved in making it happen. It is equally important to remember to never take a work too seriously, never fall victim to the seduction of an especially finished small area, and never, ever go unprepared to sacrifice any nice part of a painting for the good of the whole. To work to preserve a single area can only suffocate the remaining painting which waits to be revealed. It may be a happy accident that one small finished part of a painting may reveal itself along the way, but there’s no reason the whole painting can’t find its way back to that point as a whole rather than as a fragment.

Oh painting, you cruel mistress. To give so very much when it goes well – an unthinkable high which starts not behind the eyes as they do with drugs, but starts in the heart and works outwards to the fingers and toes - and to make it so hard to get to that point. And to take so very much from the depths of my heart when it doesn’t go right; to feel thoughts of failure and incompetence through every wet fiber of my body at the frustration of a painting is to know the power of how cruel painting can be to an individual woman.

2011-11-05T22:27:00.002-04:00

Forever investigating light.

Photoshoot in the Woods

2011-10-24T16:34:00.003-04:00

Still missing it.

Cake

2011-10-18T19:27:00.000-04:00

A painting about performance anxiety of sorts.

Mom's Quilt

2011-10-10T22:48:00.000-04:00

Today marks the twentieth year since my mom's death, and this evening my brother finally gave me this. I don't think he intended it to work out this way timing wise, but these kinds of things find their own way of being all extra emotional.

The inscription reads: This quilt was made by Carol for me in 1975. When I moved my apartment was so warm I did not use it and I gave it back to Carol in 1985 for Laura when she grows up. Please see that it is kept for her. - Valerie Waterhouse (Nana)

The smaller tag reads: Made Especially for you by Carol Findlay

Still love and miss you every single day, mom.

USA Etc.

2011-10-09T21:58:00.001-04:00

Photos from a recent drive around New England. Presented in whatever order the internet decides to upload them in.

Betsy From Brooklyn

2011-10-07T21:40:00.002-04:00

In her Barbara White studio at VSC, September 2011.

USA Etc.

2011-10-05T23:16:00.002-04:00

Roadtrip route. Photos to follow.

Vermont Studio Center Photos

2011-10-01T19:33:00.000-04:00

Back now from Vermont with some photos of my time there. Highlights:

Scorpio

2011-09-26T01:39:00.000-04:00

For the VSC Group Show 'Zodiac'.

Back to America tomorrow!

Vermont Studio Center

2011-09-22T15:14:00.000-04:00

Sad to be leaving so soon.

Vermont Studio Centre: Day 1

2011-08-29T09:45:00.001-04:00

The drive down from Montreal to the Vermont Studio Center was the first time in my life I felt it possible for me to instantly at any given moment be the catalyst for not only my death but the deaths of my two kind and unwitting passengers. I hydroplaned my little white rental car more than I touched actual road. As a first act of testing my tolerance levels, the World pressed tropical storm Irene farther north and east than anticipated, tossing the outer edges of it right in the path of my Mazda 3 and Vermont’s exceptionally bad country roads. Tom was an excellent navigator and Vero’s ability to sleep several times throughout the trip was a much needed complement to my ability to drive in the worst weather imaginable. There’s nothing like steering two friends to their potential deaths in the offset of a tropical storm, except maybe getting to do so while feeling unsure about your ability to pilot an unfamiliar car.

If I ever needed a reminder that I am capable of being exceptionally awkward and was never graced with the social skills that other artists seem to have acquired, my first 45 minutes of being at the Vermont Studio Centre would do an exceptional job of pointing these character flaws out. For example: with expert timing and not the slightest bit of grace, I managed to avoid eye contact with every person who even so much as glanced in my direction. I did this while in a large, well lit gallery space which had bottles of wine available – the right ingredients to lubricate any artists into engaging in small talk. Nice work, me! That’ll teach people to look in your direction and try to start a conversation! Next, when I finally managed to engage in any form of conversation, I managed to make several, perfectly awkward and expertly placed sarcastic and strange jokes about whatever the topic of conversation might have been. I also executed them in such a way that, should you have recorded what I was saying and played it back at half the speed you may have been able to understand and appreciate just how funny I was trying to be.

Despite my best efforts I managed to find myself having dinner with a lovely 59 year old self-taught lesbian painter from Oregon, and the originally from Georgia, PhD candidate staff member in charge of international students who incorrectly informed me that I was the only Canadian at the residency. This sent me into an hour long internal dialog about the pros and cons of being one of very few non-American residents, questioning if my revealing myself to be Canadian to people I might meet would be an asset or a hindrance to people’s opinion of me. According to the September Directory there are two other Canadians attending, not counting K who lists herself as being from Brooklyn. There are two British attendees, two from China, two from Korea, one each from the Philippines, Indonesia, Japan, Outer Mongolia (?!), and two artists from two countries which I have literally no idea where on a map they are.

In what could only be a concentrated effort to maintain my air of being awkward and rude, after dinner and the initial meetings I headed straight for the center library which I was told was a basement of reference books open twenty-four hours! What I wasn’t told of was the fact that it smells strongly and exactly like feet. I bore the gym-sock scent and rifled through a large book on American painting. During my struggle to grapple the idea that I was a Canadian in a sea of red-blooded Americans it had dawned on me that I didn’t know all that much about American fine arts. The group of seven and European artists dominate so much of the history about fine arts I’ve had so far. The reference library selection is largely taken up with stuffed shelves labeled ominously with only “USA USA USA” so this might be a good chance for me to learn more about my brothers to the south.

I hear the shuffling of bodies and the movement of luggage around the house with our individual rooms now. In forgetting to submit my forms for studio and room request I imagine I was given less popular choices for both. I am directly next to the bathroom on the first floor and the flushing of the toilet gives the wind and rain outside a run for its money. The sparsely furnished room has antique-like furniture, a dresser lined with the best paisley pattern I’ve ever seen, and smells of rust and damp wood.

For the rest of my time here I’ll concentrate my efforts to really focus, and document all the smells of the VSC.

Nervous

2011-08-25T12:47:00.001-04:00

Leaving

2011-08-24T00:26:00.001-04:00

Taking off for a stay at the Vermont Studio Center for a month. Here's where I'm leaving off what's currently on the studio easel. Odds are I won't have time to work on this any more before I go. Maybe I'm just putting this up here to remind me what I've got waiting for me back in Montreal.

Painting dogs again, still taking pictures with cell phones.

Preview of Meg and Tay Engagement Shoot

2011-08-18T12:58:00.001-04:00

These lucky kids are such fun to photograph!

First Perfect Pink Girl

2011-08-09T13:12:00.001-04:00

All tomato art. All the time.

Moka Pots

2011-08-03T22:08:00.000-04:00

A painting for Paul. 2011.

Endrot

2011-07-25T13:36:00.002-04:00

This is not a good start to my summer harvest.

Painting

2011-07-25T08:41:00.001-04:00

Untitled (Aaron), 2010

Gaia

2011-07-21T16:27:00.001-04:00

March 2011

This Summer

2011-07-19T19:59:00.002-04:00

Last Autumn

2011-07-19T19:32:00.005-04:00

Time Machines

Skeletons.

Richelieu Floods

2011-06-19T23:07:00.002-04:00

2011

Memories of Exboyfriends

2011-06-07T20:26:00.003-04:00

Flowers which represent the worst birthday of my life.

Now that I've photographed them I can finally throw them away. They smell surprisingly bad.

Playwrite/Roommate

2011-06-06T15:47:00.001-04:00

The Awkward Money Dance

2011-06-02T14:00:00.001-04:00

It’s during a phone call with my dad that I blurt out what it is that’s been driving me mad for the past few months. It seems that talking to him and having him ask about what’s on my mind lately sparks a stream of consciousness aimed in no particular direction of everything that’s been slowing grinding away at me. At this point I really need to apologize for using him this way all this time. A muffin basket doesn’t seem like it would suffice.

Money is an ugly word. To an artist, it’s the word that makes us recoil more than anything else. It makes every conversation instantly awkward. It turns friends into competition and family into judges and bailiffs.

What’s been on my mind lately? Not just money, but the act of selling oneself short. They tell you all along the way in art school not to sell yourself short. It’s a warning phrased out again and again until it sounds like a beautiful song when they sing it to you across long grey tables in a classroom. And to you, the art student, sitting amongst your peers of art school, to you it sounds great. You think, “Yeah! Hell yeah! I am never going to undersell myself! I am worth a lot! The work I do is so valuable people are going to have to pay real money to get it from me!”

But the problem with that whole scenario is that you forget about how powerful the position you’re in when you hear those words is. You are hearing it from teachers who are being paid to sit there and listen to you, paid to instruct you to the best of their ability and give you feedback. Similarly you are sitting in a crowd of other people who have all paid to be there, paid as much as you have, and are paying to be interested in your work with the hopes that you’ll be as interested in theirs and together you’ll all grow as artists. There is a lot of money going into the performance of that warning song, and so many people with so much money wound up in the whole art school situation that you forget that outside of this institution these people chanting with you probably wouldn’t give your work two glances for all the Tracey Emin monoprints in the world.

What’s missing from this situation? The real world. You know, the one where money makes things run (like your rent for your apartment or your studio, or the food you put in your face, you probably want them to keep running). This same unforgiving real world that doesn’t actually care about the work you do, that doesn’t actually need what it is you’re doing because there’s quite a few other people doing almost, but not exactly, the same thing as you. And if you try and get what you perceive to be your worth from this real world, well, you’re likely going to find out that the real world is just a bunch of other people who are trying to run off their money and really want to hold on to as much of it as possible. Just like you. Enter: the Awkward Money Dance known as bargaining and estimates.

That Awkward Money Dance has the capability of turning even your best friends into people who harbor resentment, or into the kind of people that you hold onto a little bit of that ugly dark hate too. It also does the same thing to people you’ve just met, only faster. Like, a hundred thousand times faster.

That’s the real world, and those people you’ve just met are potential clients, and bringing them into your life so that they might exchange money for services rendered, maybe so they’re so satisfied they continue to do so year after year. The big catch with all these people is that Money Dance. Because if you take one step in the wrong direction, rather than correct your or step with you the majority of the time they’ll just drop you and find someone else, and most certainly it’ll be someone w ho can’t dance nearly half as well as you can but who will follow their steps so closely that these people you were just dancing with will deny that they can even notice a difference. Money and loyalty are strange bedfellows.

So there is my poor dad, sitting there in his kitchen, on his cordless phone, 5000km away from me listening to me go on about how I continue to undersell myself to try and raise money for art projects and residencies and life (in that order apparently) and all the while I am sitting in my kitchen, yelling into my cell phone while really just yelling at myself. This is a relatively inexpensive therapy which brings me to the roots of what’s really on my mind a lot faster than most other things in life. I wonder how much a muffin basket costs, anyway?

2011-05-30T12:52:00.005-04:00

Hatley, Quebec, May 2011.

Revisited the site almost two years later. This time with a wee Zoe for scale.

Last time I was here I climbed the fence, narrowly missing the electrified wire for the cows, camera in hand and all the while wearing the tightest and ugliest bridesmaid dress known to man for my brother's wedding.

Did I upload that photo here after taking it? I can't remember now. This stump and I go way back.

Moka Pot Explosion

2011-05-26T15:48:00.002-04:00

Moving up to kitchen art. Illustrator gives me headaches.

Haircut Season: First Kill

2011-05-22T23:46:00.002-04:00

Time for a little change.

Panic Painting II

2011-05-18T23:10:00.002-04:00

Missed Point

Oil, 16"x20", 2011.

2011-05-18T00:16:00.001-04:00

August 2009.

At Home In My Studio

2011-05-05T18:30:00.000-04:00

With my painting babies. All hair and nose.

Many thanks to Tom Beaman!

Granny's Sewing Box

2011-05-04T19:03:00.003-04:00

My grandmother died from cancer just before I turned 13 years old. When I was 18 I moved into her house full of everything she and my grandfather had owned. I lived there with my brother for five years, and in that time started to get to know my grandmother in ways I didn't, and couldn't have understood her while she was still alive.

When I moved out of her house, this box of her sewing equipment in an old greeting card box found its way into my things by way of my brother's hand. In going through it when first finding it I started to figure out just how resourceful and crafty my grandmother really had been, even with basic clothing repairs for her family.

This is one of the videos from my Relics series. I am going to find a way to get them online to be viewed more in the way I'd originally wanted them to be viewed, accompanied by the photos and text. In the meantime I hope it looks good enough for you to get something from it here!

Panic Attack Painting

2011-04-30T00:07:00.001-04:00

The Dentist II, 2011, 12"x16", oil.

Red Dog

2011-04-29T07:41:00.001-04:00

Clancey 2011. Warm up paintings from January.

New Painting

2011-04-26T01:42:00.000-04:00

Oil on canvas, 24"x30"

It's funny, this painting started out with other kids in it, and a table cloth with plates and cups and the presence of other people, but it only started to make sense when I started to edit everyone out of it down to just the girl. It's weird to discover what works are about only after you are finished them. Like the rest of my paintings from this semester, this one is about something I fear. The disappearance and dissolution of family and friends and relationships, or more specifically solitude. It gets scarier the older I get.

Don't mind the ghost-chair just hanging out there.

More Studio Sketches

2011-03-24T23:52:00.001-04:00

Grandfather's Sculpture Video

2011-03-14T10:28:00.002-04:00

Let's see if this works!

2011-03-04T15:31:00.004-05:00

Shooting pistols at the sides of barns.

Studio Sketches

2011-02-19T23:49:00.002-05:00

Dad's House

2011-02-17T00:10:00.000-05:00

I love my Dad's house. When I go back I forget it has this smoky energy that was never my home, but feels comforting all the same.

Victoria, BC

Human Remnants

2011-02-10T00:18:00.001-05:00

Trust human beings to ruin just about everything.

Lone Tree Hill, Vancouver Island.

Dad

2011-02-08T18:01:00.000-05:00

2011-02-07T16:48:00.000-05:00

Artmaking:

Good things come when you make art.

Website!

2011-01-24T23:42:00.000-05:00

After a lot of work on part of my brother, with myself pitching in as much as I can, I am proud to announce the birth of a real, live, kicking and screaming website of my very own.

www.laurafindlay.com

I am very excited to see it up and running and being about as handsome as websites can get. If anyone has any feedback on it, drop me a line!

Flying in Back Fields

2011-01-12T22:39:00.000-05:00

Inspired by my dad, and his attempts many years ago to teach my brother and I (who am I kidding, mostly Doug) to fly kites. My dad is such a goof.

Backyard Swingset

2011-01-05T17:21:00.001-05:00

A backyard swingset that my brother and I know all too well.

oil on canvas, 26"x30" (thereabouts)

The Tree Climber

2010-12-25T03:12:00.000-05:00

Happy Christmas! Here is a new painting!

(4'x5' oil)

Ricoh FF-1s

2010-12-05T21:41:00.000-05:00

Over a year ago my favourite camera suddenly disappeared with a roll of film that was almost complete in it. I remember the very last time I saw it and had spent months searching for it and even more months trying in vain to find a replacement for it. Three similar cameras (and a whole bunch of money) later, someone surprised me with this for my birthday:

Having my Ricoh FF-1s replaced means so much to me, here are a bunch of the photos I took with the old one before the universe mysteriously swallowed it up. I sure hope who or whatever found it can appreciate it the same ways I did in my day.

note: there are WAY more than I thought there would be, and they appear to have a mind of their own and upload in any old order so enjoy approximately two and a half years of highlights from my photo life.

Granny's Sewing Equipment Box

2010-11-14T21:29:00.000-05:00

Things have kind of gone to hell but it might just be my precious exhaustion talking. I think I'll go sleep for twelve hours.

2010-11-11T22:22:00.001-05:00

Outtake from the tests from a photo shoot with Tom this morning.

2010-11-11T20:59:00.001-05:00

Manotick with that nice Thanksgiving light.

2010-10-30T00:34:00.000-04:00

Also, happy halloween!

Rob Armatta

2010-10-29T09:18:00.001-04:00

A nice portrait of gallery director Rob Armatta I made a few nights ago.

See? I'm getting better with this occasionally updating a blog thing.

CCLaP Feature

2010-10-27T11:07:00.001-04:00

There is a very nice post about my photo work on the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography blog.

2010-10-22T23:16:00.000-04:00

A photo of a sculpture about my Grandfather.

New Paintings

2010-10-19T14:23:00.001-04:00

2010-10-05T00:53:00.001-04:00

Oh how I love you, Pointe-Claire public library. You are among my favourite happy places.

Happy Birthday, Antonia

2010-10-05T00:51:00.000-04:00

Crop Rotation at Galerie Armatta

2010-09-29T23:27:00.001-04:00

Hello blog world,

I would like to inform you of and invite you to the opening of my very first solo show in a gallery. It features both my paintings and my photos (so much work in one small gallery!). Crop Rotation opens at Galerie Armatta this Saturday and runs until the end of October.

The photographs are from the Human Intervention series which was on display at the Index show, but this exhibition features a few images that weren't originally included at the Index show. They are photos of domestic objects which have been abandoned or neglected and are supposed to allow a connection between viewer, photographer, object, and the people who caused these interventions who are absent from the photos. Mostly they're kind of fun and all of them have a little punch-line somewhere in there to make it even more fun.

The paintings are a continuation of the series Borrowed Nostalgia. Again, some of the paintings among the many featured in the show have been exhibited before - so if you've been to another show you may recognize a few - but there is also a collection of paintings I've not so much as had a teacher look at from the production in Spring and Summer - the thought of which makes me both nervous and excited which is more reason for you to come to the opening!

The opening is on Saturday, October 2nd and starts at 5:30pm and continues until 10:30pm at 5238-A ave du Parc in Montreal. Here is the faceook event information.

And here is a nice picture of the poster that will be up for raffle at the end of the night:

Canadian Virtual Museum

2010-09-16T09:16:00.003-04:00

My piece is finally up on the Canadian Virtual Museum!

The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale

2010-09-03T10:09:00.000-04:00

The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale is a system used to keep a tally of stressful, life-changing events which happen to an individual, it assigns a numerical value to events and the final score gives an indication of how that sum may affect someone’s health. On the Holmes and Rahe stress scale, under the ‘Non-Adult’ section, the death of a parent measures 100 ‘Life Change Units,’ which is to say, the most points for any one event that could happen in the life of a kid.

It is hard for me to deny that I have an unyielding interest in death. What manifests as adolescent curiosity didn’t come from violent movies or angry music. It started many years earlier. The only section of the library at my elementary school which ever interested me in the slightest was the surprisingly well stocked shelves on all topics of death and the paranormal.

Ghosts, voodoo, witchcraft, corpses, hauntings, séances, grave-robbers, ghastly fatal accidents, poltergeists, you name the spooky subject and my ten year old self had read every single book about it in both the school and public libraries of Sidney. I had an appetite that couldn’t be filled. There was a very special thrill to reading about death which I was likely addicted to. The taboo of death excited me, it was something everyone went through but no one ever talked about and as a kid I felt like the bona fide expert on the subject – in both personal experience and reference material.

And when I became a teenager and made poor fashion choices and had black hair and more earrings than would allow me to sleep comfortably on a pillow each night it became very common – and therefore very uncool – to have such interests. There were too many movies about it, too many graphic novels and loud tuneless music that all talked about something that had previously been my private sanctuary, and so in my early twenties I felt I had no choice but to relent from my love of that genre. Peer pressure makes us do some ugly things when we are younger and more impressionable.

It’s only now, at almost twenty-six and inches from the finish line of an undergraduate, that I am once again that ten year old who can endlessly sit in the corner of the library for hours and just read about the gooey and spooky parts of death. And really, that’s who I was all along.

Don’t let anyone ever tell you that ages 15-23 are without unique and personality-alteringly dangerous obstacles.

But here I am at the point where I must try to understand where this obsession comes from, because it is not a desire to shock and awe, or offend or stand out which drives me. If anything it is an intense desire to relate, to reach out to everyone I’ll ever meet who has ever experienced the same events but has gone without ever understanding their own feelings about it. I am compelled to do is find others who live amongst the remains of the dead, who cling to objects and memories and the past the way I do and to understand them in order to ultimately try to understand myself.

What is likely is I am simply too afraid to approach myself in this way, that I have reached a standoff with my own understanding of who I am and why it is I do the things I do, so I desire to look for it in other people and through them learn more about myself. These unnamed people I wish so deeply to meet – people who I know exist out there around me but who I will have to struggle to find – these people may be my mirror to the stressful events which shaped me, the mirror that lets me see the impression that’s really been left behind.

It will be my challenge over the next months to learn ways to find people, to adapt more tact than I can possibly poses within me to approach such a delicate subject. I want to understand people. I don’t mind if it means crying in the company of others, learning about what it is which affects them and how it is part of what drives me.

Every artist has a deal. Has their routine. Their song and dance. My deal is that my family is mostly dead. Might as well milk it for what it’s worth.

Summer

2010-08-19T07:03:00.000-04:00

Found a field of abandoned drive in movie screens in Laval. Nature was about 50% done with taking it back over.

2010-06-09T23:55:00.001-04:00

Stuck in a soybean field.

Gaia

2010-05-05T23:32:00.000-04:00

Tire and Shoe in Kahnawake

2010-04-25T12:38:00.000-04:00

I always kind of liked this one, it feels kind of painterly.

Index

2010-04-11T21:49:00.001-04:00

Opening this Friday!

2010-04-11T21:33:00.000-04:00

Tim

Thank goodness for the focus of my new camera. Look at that! Magic at work to have things be sharp.

2010-04-06T07:59:00.000-04:00

2010-04-04T10:59:00.001-04:00

2010-04-02T10:09:00.001-04:00

Poppies (Daisies)

2010-04-01T00:20:00.000-04:00

Falling Asleep in a Field of Poppies (Daisies)
Oil on canvas on plywood, 24"x20"

Beauty School in Victoria

2010-03-27T01:57:00.001-04:00

Old Master's Glazing Painting

2010-03-17T00:28:00.000-04:00

A technical painting from a class. Around 42"x42" (four years in art school and I still can't make a straight stretcher!). Oil on canvas.

My old master of choice to copy was a particularly nice Jan Weenix still life that I can't find a copy to link you to online, I assure you was pretty spectacular.

Quilt

2010-03-17T00:25:00.000-04:00

Annie and her sister again.

24"x32" oil on canvas.

Culvert

2010-03-17T00:22:00.000-04:00

Annie and Sister in Culvert

48"x36" oil on canvas

WIP

2010-02-09T08:25:00.001-05:00

Work in progress.

2010-01-21T11:18:00.000-05:00

Back from BC and ready to roll.

Mishka With a Red Coat

2010-01-11T20:49:00.000-05:00

Mishka with a Red Coat
Oil on canvas, 2009

Don't think I've shared this one on here. It was in a show at the VAV Gallery in November and has been chosen to be part of the CHIN project linking Canadian museums with artists from Montreal to create works of art inspired by specially chosen, significant pieces from museums around Ottawa. The article I chose was a Loyalist Uniform from the Canadian War Museum.

In 1779, Loyalist soldiers received scarlet uniforms, similar to those worn by British regulars. This one belonged to Lieutenant Jeremiah French of the King's Royal Regiment of New York. The gold buttons bear the regiment's initials. They are arranged in pairs to indicate that French belonged to the 2nd battalion of the regiment. This is one of the oldest complete uniforms in Canada.

Looking forward to the launch!

2009-11-14T17:49:00.000-05:00

Also: Here is a lovely article from Concordia's The Link.

Midnight Poutine Reviews Clean Hands

2009-11-12T17:47:00.000-05:00

Local blog Midnight Poutine wrote a lovely article on the show Clean Hands!

Show is still up until November 20th if you're interested in taking a look!

Clean Hands at the VAV Gallery

2009-11-07T12:35:00.000-05:00

Show opens Tuesday! Lots of art, wine, cheese, and sushi to be had. Hope to see you there!

2009-08-03T23:47:00.001-04:00

Last summer we had barbecues. This year we break fast.

2009-07-22T22:13:00.001-04:00

When we lived together our collections were always stronger, but apart we're both finally able to breathe. Passing ships in the night no longer, big brother.

Two New Paintings

2009-07-15T10:50:00.000-04:00

Self-Portrait with Curved Spine (After Francis Bacon)
30"x40"

Zoe Feeding Baby Bird
18"x24"

I am going through some weird things with painting lately.

2009-06-13T15:14:00.001-04:00

Girl with Goat
24"x36" oil on canvas