As I re-build my business, not quite from the ground up, (the foundation remains, but the structures above must be replaced), I find I am spending a lot of time in the realm of not-knowing.

Life under pandemic has changed our rhythms and routines, our customary locations, and how we spend our time. My husband and I (but especially him) used to spend way too much time driving from place to place, because our work was in-person but also in a variety of locations.

Now by building up our tech and online skills, there is so much new and in flux but so much less by way of complications and travel. We just have to adjust to frequently re-arranging our home and studio to accommodate all the new virtual events and courses.

But looking deeper than that, I realize I am accustomed to spending a lot of time in that place of not-knowing, whether I'm developing new work for an exhibition, or at an earlier stage even, when I am excavating in order to discover new ideas in my studio, it is imperative that I enter that psychological space, or I will not get to what matters or what's new. Neither I nor my work would grow.

Other artists may work differently, but I think most have to work like that at some level, (and not just artists either!) or they would not make discoveries. And without locating something new, something fresh, where would art be? It would not move forward, nor would it deepen.

Spring is a season of the new: new growth, new life. And as this weekend is one of sacred spring festivals, Passover and Easter, it may be the perfect time to contemplate this.

​Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

The In Situ arts festival in late October was an extraordinary experience for me as an artist and a fun one in general.

With two large scale pieces in the main space and an entire room installation (allowing plenty of space for dancers to perform in), it was wonderful to stretch out (mentally and physically) into so much space.

The intensity required to conceive and execute so much in so little time is not sustainable for long (by me at least) but has some benefits. As I was just describing to a friend, it kept the threads of my thoughts white-hot, so every hour of work built 100% onto the previous hours, days and weeks of work – since most other distractions had been put aside... even sleep!

As well, working with the festival's fabulous lighting designer Joe Pagnan and working with light in the drawers and other components of my room installation 'Containment', has forever changed my thinking around light.

The incredible support and enthusiasm of Heather Snell, director/artistic director of the festival, and her wonderful husband Ken, was fertile ground in which to grow (thank you both!).

While I had nothing like enough time to get ready (in fact I am still trying to recover from the 24/7 preparations) but the joyful, creative and expansive experience that this was, coupled with the new work I produced for it, means I am glad and grateful for the opportunity.

And I still love that gorgeous, decrepit building!

Thanks to all who visited! For any who could not, I hope these photos will go some way toward compensating.

Philip Guston was a Montréal-born painter (1913) who became a major artist in the US.

I admire him for his honesty, making radical changes to his work over the years, going from skillfully figurative to purely non-objective (i.e. abstract) and then back to figuration; changes that had to be made in order to be true to the changes in himself as an artist.

The apparently crude approach he finally adopted (he said he wanted to paint like someone who could not paint) centred on a very personal vocabulary of recurring imagery and symbols.

​This quote from Guston shows his intimacy with and insight into the painting process.