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Thank You, Carol

Whenever I go away, I rarely have time to draw a local cartoon for the Outlook, so I send them a selection of my syndicated cartoons to choose from. Those are the same ones I send to my other papers each day.

I had already done that last week when my former editor sent me a text asking if I had heard that Carol Picard had passed away. I knew she had been in poor health, but it was still very sad news. For her family, of course, but also for anyone in the valley who knew her, and that was a great many people.

Carol had a profound impact on this community. Rather than try to sum it up myself and risk falling short, I’ll refer you to the piece in this week’s Outlook.

Running a syndicated cartoon this week would have felt wrong. I was grateful to find out before I left, so I could draw something more fitting.

It is no exaggeration to say that I might not have had an art career if not for Carol Picard.

In the summer of 2001, Shonna and I moved from Banff to Canmore. My three years of drawing cartoons for the Banff Crag & Canyon were ending, and things there were not working out. Around the same time, though I had not yet met her, Carol and two friends were launching a new paper to serve the whole valley, competing with the established newspapers in Banff and Canmore. Many people thought they were crazy and told them so.

A journalist from the Banff paper, who was joining them, told me about it and said they might need a cartoonist. I reached out to Carol. She knew my work and told me she would love to have me on board. The timing was perfect, and I said yes.

Before long, Carol asked me why I was not syndicated. At the time, I did not know her long history as a professional journalist. I explained that syndication was difficult to break into. Syndicates sell a cartoonist’s work to newspapers and keep half the money in return. They have the connections to get past the gatekeepers. I had tried a couple of them but had been rejected.

Carol scoffed and said, “Just do it yourself.”

Wait. I could do that?

She told me how. Leaving out the dull details, I started drawing more cartoons each week. I signed a few papers for a couple of years, then a few more, but it was a slog. I wanted to quit more than once. Eventually, though, I gained traction, and in 2006 I quit my full-time job to work for myself.

The only reason I am still a working cartoonist today is that I never landed a daily newspaper job. Most of those jobs have disappeared. And had I signed with a syndicate early on, it would never have been worth it. Most of them are gone now as well.

If I had not become a full-time cartoonist, I would not have been in the position in 2009 to explore my whimsical wildlife art, which now makes up more than half of my business and is the work I love most. I cannot imagine doing anything else.

All because Carol Picard made me realize what was possible. That when people tell you no, you find another way.

It is also why the Rocky Mountain Outlook is still winning awards today while those other newspapers are long gone. I am proud to have had a cartoon in every issue since day one.

Yesterday, Carol’s husband, Robin, called to thank me for the cartoon. I had not reached out yet, knowing he would be hearing from so many people offering condolences, and I wanted to give it a little time.

We laughed about a story we both know well. Carol once told me I did not need to thank her anymore, since I already had many times, for the influence she had on my career and my life. But I am glad I thanked her more often than necessary, rather than regret not having said it enough.

And I got to do it one more time in the cartoon.

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A Break from the Office, but Not from the Animals

This past week, Shonna and I headed north to visit her Dad and family. It’s a seven-hour drive from here, and we haven’t been up there in quite some time. We planned these dates awhile ago, and thankfully both of our workloads were a little more manageable right now, with good weather for the trip.

Shonna’s parents own a small campground northwest of Fox Creek called Poplar Ridge RV Park. It’s a pretty area with rolling hills and forests, and they’ve spent years adding amenities and improvements. If I were on a long road trip south from Alaska or points north, I would be pleasantly surprised to pull in here for a rest. It’s close to the highway for convenience but far enough down the access road to be quiet and peaceful.

With power, water, and showers, it was plenty comfortable. They had a trailer set up for us, so we certainly weren’t roughing it. One evening, Shonna’s aunt, uncle, and cousin came out from town for dinner, and it was good to slow down with nowhere to be. We also toured around Fox Creek so Shonna could reminisce and see what had changed. After thirty years of marriage, it was nice to revisit some of the places I hear about in her stories.

On Tuesday, the four of us drove to Whitecourt to spend time with Shonna’s brother Cody and his family. He had offered to take us up the Athabasca River on his jet boat, so we met him at the launch. Shonna and her Dad lounged in the back while I stood beside Cody with my camera ready. They’ve seen plenty of wildlife on this river.
Every time I take the camera out, I learn something new, usually by making a mistake. This time, I left my new DJI Action Pro 5 in the car, not wanting to keep everyone waiting. That was foolish, since this kind of trip is exactly what the camera is designed for. I could have clamped it to the windshield, pressed record, and left it running. Instead, I relied on my phone for short video clips.

Fortunately, I had my Canon camera and managed to photograph bald eagles and an osprey. Even with the camera settings dialed in, I learned that a jet boat cannot simply shut down and idle on a fast-moving river. They are designed for shallow water but must keep moving at a good speed. Cody explained that propeller boats can’t operate here because some stretches are less than a foot deep. His ability to read the river was impressive, and it was clear you need to know what you’re doing.

One of three bald eagles we saw, this one is a juvenile, hasn’t got the white plumage yet.

So there I was, trying to capture moving targets on a bright sunny day, over reflective water, from a moving platform. The odds weren’t great, so the fact that I got anything worth keeping feels like a win. The birds of prey shots were fine but nothing special. Just as we turned back, Cody and Shonna spotted a black bear swimming across the river, an unexpected treat.
None of the shots from the river are good enough for reference, but I never know where inspiration might come from. Seeing wildlife in the wild is always worth it.Even without the river encounters, we enjoyed some friendly domestic critters. Shonna’s parents’ dog, Jetta, is a classic rural yard dog. Her job is to bark at strangers, but once she warmed up, we were fast friends. I like that her grey matches mine.
Shonna’s brother’s dog, Tess, is a bundle of energy with no slow setting. I’m surprised she sat still long enough for me to take a photo. Go ahead, try to take the puck. I dare you.
But the star of the show was their new kitten, Minnie. Already a people cat, she was affectionate, vocal, and had an intoxicating purr. We joked that they would have to check our bags before we left to be sure she wasn’t coming home with us.
Whenever I photograph dogs or cats, I want to paint them, and Minnie was especially photogenic. I now have some strong reference shots, though with commissions waiting and a list of wildlife paintings underway, I don’t know when I’ll get to them. That is why the idea of ever retiring feels ridiculous. There are too many animals to paint.
On the way home Wednesday, we stopped at the cabin I often rent with friends so I could finally show it to Shonna. I had checked ahead and the owners said we were welcome to drop by between guests. Shonna and the owners have heard plenty about each other, so the introduction was overdue.

People sometimes ask why Shonna and I don’t go to the cabin together. The truth is she likes projects and keeping busy, while I go there to do nothing with my buddy Darrel. Let’s face it, when I’m away, she also gets the house to herself, so who’s really getting the break? At least now she has some context for my old men at the cabin stories.

I’m not a fan of long drives, but this trip was good. The secondary highway had light traffic both ways, the weather cooperated, and I’m glad Shonna got to see her family. It wasn’t really a vacation, but it was a welcome break from our work.

Trips like this remind me that inspiration doesn’t just come from the studio. Whether it’s a bear crossing a river, an osprey overhead, or a kitten purring in my lap, these encounters all feed the work I do when I sit down to paint.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Three Cats at Last

You’ve all heard plenty about the three-cat commission I’ve been working on in recent months, so I’m pleased to finally reveal the finished painting of Fable, Mortdecai, and Jack.

Commissions are always challenging, involving plenty of photos and communication before I ever put down a brush stroke. I can’t get the likeness and personality right if I don’t know the subject.
While Mortdecai has some white in him, they’re all still black cats. Both black and white animals, wild or domestic, bring their own difficulties, mostly because they’re not really either. Black fur is defined by the light it reflects, and white fur has similar challenges. It’s the shading that gives the features depth and form.

These challenges don’t make them less desirable to paint, though. One of my favourite animals to paint is a raven. I enjoy working blue highlights and accents into black feathers and fur, finding that balance between too much and too little. That love of painting light on dark was a big part of this commission.
Tobi, my client, has a thing for ravens. A lot of the art in her home features them, and I can’t say I blame her. Shonna and I admired some striking raven pieces on her walls when we visited. Shonna likes ravens, too, and longtime followers might recall the aluminum print photo I gave her for her 50th birthday. You can see and read about it here.
Tobi has been following my work for quite some time. Along with other art in her collection, she owns many of my 11×14 poster prints and a few metal pieces. For this delivery, she had also ordered a custom 16×16 square-cropped metal print of my Winter Raven painting, along with the cat commission.

Tobi had requested a square version of that painting to match the size of the Blue Beak Raven metal print she already had, and I was happy to accommodate.Commissions require a lot of back-and-forth. My clients need to be part of the process, otherwise I may not be able to deliver what they want. I’m fortunate that those who have hired me to paint their pets have almost all been engaged and enthusiastic. They dig up photos, share stories, and talk about personalities and quirks. All of it helps me do my best work.

Tobi was a joy to work with. She gave me dozens of photos of all three cats, shared their backstories, and talked about their most prominent features. She also gave me plenty of time, which I’ve needed this year. The only pressure was self-inflicted.

Commissions are a significant financial investment, and I don’t take that lightly. Once someone has paid their 50% installment, I’ve got a ticking clock in my head that gets louder the more time passes. Between editorial cartoon deadlines, marketing, and other projects, I’m always trying to carve out time for whichever commission is on deck.
Because I knew three cats in one painting would take more time than any other commission I’ve done, I shared work-in-progress shots with Tobi and with all of you. I don’t usually do that, but since she’s been following my work for so long, I knew she could tell the difference between sketches, roughs, and a finished piece.

Sharing those early stages turned out to be a good decision. It’s tough to make three similar-looking cats look like individuals, but Tobi’s feedback on each cat helped me make subtle adjustments before the detail stage, which led to better likenesses for all three. Best of all, I could reassure her that I was making steady progress.

When I finally showed Tobi the finished painting on a Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago, I nervously waited for her reply. I always expect the worst until I hear otherwise. Thankfully, she didn’t make me wait long.

“The painting is PERFECT!!!! I’m absolutely dying over here, somewhere between laughing out loud and choking up a little bit, because you’ve captured all three of the boys so amazingly!! Their expressions and personalities are spot-on, I don’t even understand how it’s possible! I am overwhelmed and absolutely thrilled with it!”

That kind of reaction never gets old.
Once the metal print arrived, this shot taken with a lot of light, I arranged to deliver it to Tobi’s home in Calgary. Shonna came along for the ride, and we enjoyed the reveal in person. We also wanted to meet the cats, of course, but in true feline fashion, one ran away, one watched us from up the stairs, and the third never showed. Our old cat Muse was like that, too. Great with us, no time for anyone else.

As with all commissions, there’s a great sense of accomplishment when I deliver what a client has hired me to do. It’s humbling enough that anyone would buy the whimsical wildlife artwork I create on my own. But to hire me to paint their furry family members in my style is about the biggest compliment I get.

For all of you who have hired me to paint your pets, I remain grateful for your trust, and I hope your paintings make you smile each time you see them. And for those still waiting, thank you for your patience. I’ll do my best to make it worth the wait.

After I sent Tobi a selection of finished images for her use, something I include with every commission, she replied, “This has been such a great experience, and one that I’ll definitely be talking about for years to come.”

I’m working on a video about this piece and will share that with all of you soon.

Cheers,
Patrick

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A Little Breather

After wrapping up the three-cat commission I’ve been working on (and talking about) for the past couple of months, I needed a reset. Not a full break—but something without expectations, pressure, or deadlines. Just a chance to paint for myself again.

This little ground squirrel was that piece.

I worked on it here and there earlier in the week; no plan for prints, products, or licensing. Just a personal palate (or palette) cleanser to clear my head and get back into the rhythm.

Here’s a closer look at some of the fine detail work, my favourite part of the process.

It also became another step in learning how to better share my process through video. There were a few frustrating moments along the way—some technical hurdles and workflow issues—but I’m learning as I go, and it’s starting to feel more natural. I’ll get there.

Watch the Video

I share a bit more of the backstory, including why I needed this piece after the cat commission, and what this kind of no-pressure painting means for my creative process.

If you enjoy it, a like or comment goes a long way. And subscribing helps bring my work to more people—which means I can keep making and sharing more of it. Thanks for following along.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Licensing Spotlight: My Animal Art in the Happy Color App

In 2022, X-Flow Games reached out to license my artwork for a paint-by-numbers app called Happy Color. I hadn’t heard of it at the time, it’s not really my kind of thing, but I don’t often find licensing clients; they usually find me.

You can usually tell pretty quickly whether a company is going to be a good fit. My contact at X-Flow was friendly, professional, and well-versed in licensing. They had a solid contract, clear payment structure, and efficient process.

While most licensing agreements are royalty-based, paying monthly or quarterly based on sales, some companies opt for a flat fee for time-limited use. That’s how X-Flow operates. Since Happy Color is free to download and monetized through ads and in-app purchases, the royalty model doesn’t apply.

My art wasn’t released in the app until two years after our initial discussions. That kind of delay is common in licensing. Each company has its own schedule for product launches, and while my work may be part of it, I’m not involved in the rollout or marketing. My only job is to stay quiet until they go public.

I’m fortunate to have a loyal group of subscribers and supporters of A Wilder View. I’ve often written about shady companies that steal artwork, and how difficult it can be to deal with that. As a result, many people are quick to alert me when they see my work somewhere unexpected.

So when Happy Color released The Charmers’ Club last year—a collection of ten of my animals—I actually found out from several fans of the app who asked if it was legitimate. I was happy to confirm that yes, it was authorized, and that I could finally promote it.

Earlier this year, I spoke with Happy Color again. Someone new had taken over the conversation, but like her predecessor, she was professional, friendly, and easy to work with. Must be something in the company culture.

After some back-and-forth, they selected a new batch of images to license. The first collection had been well received, so they planned a larger promotion this time around.

Subscribers might recall a recent post where I teased two licensing opportunities I couldn’t talk about yet. This is the first one.
Once the new collection was finalized, X-Flow asked to interview me to help promote the current images and tease the upcoming fall release. I can’t share the newly licensed paintings until they do, but I’m looking forward to seeing them in the app again soon.

If you haven’t tried the Happy Color app, I recommend giving it a go. It’s a relaxing, pleasantly addictive little distraction. I’ll admit I had low expectations at first, but after colouring several of my own pieces, I get the appeal.

Below is the interview X-Flow released today in the app, you can see screenshots from their social media featuring my artwork and Q&A throughout this post. You can download Happy Color from Google Play or the Apple App Store and follow Happy Color on Facebook and Instagram. To read the interview on the app, go to their News tab on the bottom and you’ll see it there. At the bottom of the interview, it will take you right to my current collection, The Charmers’ Club.

Enjoy!

Interview with Patrick LaMontagne
From the Happy Color App

“Cartoony but Real” World of Patrick LaMontagne

Q: Patrick, your signature style—expressive wildlife that’s “cartoony but real”—is instantly recognizable. How did it all begin?
Believe it or not, it started with a bear. That first grizzly I painted back in 2009 wasn’t supposed to look whimsical—I didn’t even think in those terms back then. But people responded to it. So I painted another. Then another. And somewhere along the way, it became the work I loved most.
The phrase “cartoony but real” actually came from viewers at shows. The first time I heard it, I thought, yeah, that fits. Then someone else said the exact same thing. So I figured—if that’s how people see it, why fight it?

Q: Has living in the Bow Valley shaped your work?
Absolutely. That first grizzly bear was inspired by the wildlife here. We have them in our backyard. I love them—but I’m also a little scared of them. I don’t sleep well in a tent because of it.
This place, the Canadian Rockies, is a constant source of inspiration. The animals, the light, the landscapes—it’s all right here.

Q: What was it like seeing your work featured in the Happy Color app?
Honestly? At first, I was surprised. I looked at the app and thought, paint-by-numbers? People still do this?
Then I tried it—and totally got it. It was relaxing and kind of addictive.
When the first Happy Color collection launched, I hadn’t even announced it yet—but my subscribers spotted it right away. They were excited… and a few were worried it was art theft. It wasn’t—and I loved getting to share that moment with them.
Seeing my animals in that format was a joy. I loved how the collection was presented. I even coloured most of them myself.
Q: Let’s talk about joy. How does it play into your creative process?
I’d be lying if I said it’s always easy. Like a lot of artists, I’m my own worst critic. After hours alone with a painting, I start to focus on every flaw.
But then I share it. I see someone smile, or I get a heartfelt message. And suddenly, it’s not about perfection—it’s about connection. If my work made someone feel something, then I’ve done my job.

Q: What’s your creative process like, from blank canvas to final touches?
I keep things simple—just a few brushes. I start with a sketch, lay down flat colours, then rough in light and shadow. From there, it’s all about refining.
One trick I use constantly is flipping the canvas horizontally, along with my references. Artists have done it for centuries—it helps spot mistakes instantly. I swear by it.

Q: You were creating digital art long before it became mainstream. How has that journey evolved for you?
I’ve never been a traditional artist in the classic sense. I didn’t study oils or watercolour. I just liked to doodle.
My digital journey started in high school—pixel by pixel with a mouse on a Macintosh, just for fun. Then came my first Wacom tablet, bundled with Painter Classic. From that point on, I was hooked. Digital was my home.

Q: How do you stay authentic in an AI-driven world?
These days, with AI and filters flooding the space, I often have to explain that my work isn’t AI-generated. That the computer doesn’t “make” it—I do.
It’s frustrating sometimes, but it also motivates me to show more of my process. That’s one reason I’m focusing more on YouTube now.
Q: How do you know when a painting is done—when the character is “alive”?
Ah, the eternal question. Leonardo da Vinci said, “A painting is never finished, only abandoned.” I get that. There’s always another hair or feather you could tweak.
But eventually, the personality shows up. You reach a point where adding more doesn’t help—it might even hurt. That’s when I know it’s time to let go.

You can enjoy coloring Patrick LaMontagne’s collection The Charmer’s Club in the Happy Color app now.
A new collection is on the way this autumn—stay tuned for more wild and whimsical news!

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Something a Little Different (New Video)

The good news is I’ll be finishing the cat commission this week. The bad news? My very patient client gets to see it first, of course.

That said, I’m pleasantly surprised by how well it’s turning out. It’s been a big challenge, but more on that when I’m able to share it.

In the meantime, I’ve published another YouTube video.

This has proven more difficult than I expected, not because I don’t enjoy it, but because I don’t want these videos to be just me sitting in a chair talking to the camera, or simply showing my hand painting on the screen.

Those types of videos are popular (and I’ll keep doing them), but I want to offer more than that. I’d like to share videos more often, and doing the same thing every time would get boring, not just for you, but for the guy recording them.

So on that note, here’s something a little different. I had fun recording the footage, but I won’t lie; editing it with new software was an exercise in frustration. It took far longer than I’d like, but I’m sure my speed and efficiency will improve with each one.

I’m learning a lot. Mostly from my mistakes.

Hope you like it.

Cheers,
Patrick

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This Is the Work

When people talk about art for a living, they usually mean the highlights—the big launches, the finished pieces, the stuff that looks good on a timeline. But this—the half-finished paintings, the licensing negotiations, the time made for ideas—this is the work.

If you go through any videos, articles, or books about art promotion, you’ll find one consistent theme—be consistent.

It’s easy to promise yourself you’ll write and send a post each week on the same day. Actually doing it? That’s another story.

I’ve been meeting editorial cartoon deadlines every week for more than twenty years. Coming up with ideas isn’t as tough as it used to be, but I still have to draw and send a cartoon, no matter what—whether I’m feeling inspired or not, whether I like the idea or think it’s a dud.

Even though I usually write two or three blog posts and emails each month, there are times when I don’t have much to say. And when that happens, it’s easy to think, “I’ll get to it next week.”

But that kind of procrastination isn’t fair to everyone who’s signed up for this subscription ride, and I don’t take that for granted.

So, with lots in progress but nothing quite finished to share, here’s a bit of a dog’s breakfast of what’s on my desk and on deck.

PAINTINGS

I’m still working on those three cats. That’s normal for commissions—they take time, especially when you’re trying to capture three distinct animals in one piece. But I’ve finally found my groove this week, the fun part.

Thanks to some helpful (and welcome) suggestions from the client, their personalities are coming through. There are two black cats in the painting, each with a different look and vibe, and I was a little worried about pulling that off. That’s where back-and-forth with the client really matters. The more I learn about their features and quirks, the better job I can do.

The cats are now in the same painting rather than separate sketches, and when I open the file now, I don’t clench my teeth. I smile. That’s a good feeling. It’s not unique to this commission either. That’s the usual experience for most of my paintings.

I’m also working on a snowy owl, a grizzly bear, and a raven, all at various stages of completion. There’s a lot more work to do on this one, as I’m also recording the process on video, but here’s a sneak peek at the owl in progress.

LICENSING

It’s been a good couple of weeks on the licensing front. One international company I’ve worked with before came back with a new proposal. Since my first experience with them was pretty close to perfect, I was happy to jump into a new contract with them.

Another company I’d never heard of cold-called me with a very appealing offer to license my work. We’re in the “crossing t’s and dotting i’s” stage now.

Both companies are seasoned pros when it comes to working with artists. There’s nothing unexpected in the contracts, and most of it is just formality. In my experience, that’s typical. While it does happen, it’s rare to come across a company trying to screw you over.

I realize both of these updates probably sound like teases, but that’s the nature of licensing. I can’t talk about names or details until they launch, which could take weeks, months, or even a year. In the meantime, there’s work to do behind the scenes and it takes real time and effort.

The admin side of being a professional artist often eats up more time than most expect. But licensing is a solid revenue stream because it’s built on artwork I’ve already created, and it works well for me.

Diamond Art Club just released a new kit featuring my cheetah painting, my sixth kit so far. That one was a surprise, since it’s not one of my more popular prints. But they do plenty of research before launching a new image, and there was a demand for this one. I love working with this company, and there are more pieces in the pipeline. But they decide and let me know when I can share them.

EDITORIAL CARTOONING

A Calgary Herald reader saw one of my recent G7 cartoons and ordered a couple of prints. I don’t get a ton of editorial cartoon orders, but enough that I’ve built a good production system for them. I use the same printer who produces my metal and canvas prints, so the quality is always spot-on.
This particular cartoon also featured a grizzly bear—so the best of both worlds. I signed both prints and shipped them yesterday.

LIFE STUFF

Last weekend, I got away for a cabin trip with my buddy Darrel. It’s a good thing we book these months in advance—if I didn’t have the commitment (and the deposit), I’d probably find a too-busy excuse not to go. I know, wrong priorities, I’m working on it. Thankfully, once I’m there, it always feels like the right decision.

After years of getting up at 5:00 a.m., I can’t really sleep late anymore. Even without an alarm, and staying up later than usual, I was still up by 6 or 7. I tiptoed past Darrel’s room, showered, made some coffee to-go, and headed out looking for wildlife.

The morning walks were a peaceful start to the day. Critter sightings were limited—just some skittish white-tailed deer, a juvenile Cooper’s Hawk overhead, and cows. Lots of little birds singing in the trees, over a dozen species according to the Merlin app. One evening, a couple of Great Horned Owls were calling to each other. And in the middle of the night, coyotes howled from all directions. That last one is one of my favourite sounds in nature.
I’m always surprised when I sort through reference photos, because often something I thought I had, doesn’t look as good when I get home. And then a random throwaway photo might spark a painting.
This little calf was painted from reference I took at the cabin a few years ago. I’ve since retired it because frankly it wasn’t popular, even though I enjoyed the work and like the painting. That happens a lot, where my favourites may not be your favourites.
But one evening on this visit, I noticed the neighbour’s cows hanging around his gate near the road, and shortly after this first pic, they clustered together and it struck me comical. So I took a bunch of photos, and though I’d work from several of the ones I shot, I think there’s a painting here. Already thinking about how long it would take, but this is a marathon, not a sprint.
I’ll have to let it simmer a bit, but whenever I hear that voice whisper, “hey, look here,” I try to pay attention.

We did our usual: cards, games, guitar, napping on the deck, and wandering the property without agenda. We had some (always welcome) on-and-off rain, a loud, windy thunderstorm with a bit of non-damaging hail, but overall, the weather was pleasant.
And while I still spent too much time in my own head, thinking about work and worrying about things I can’t control, the setting and company helped me turn down the volume for a few days.

I’ll have some new work to share with you soon.

Cheers,
Patrick

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When the Work Gets Heavy, Paint Something Light

I’ve been working on a commission of three cats, and it’s coming along well. The client has provided some valuable feedback on the images I’ve shared so far. I’ve also recorded a bunch of the process, written the video narrative, and I’m still working on that video and the painting itself.

Usually, I sit down, open a Spotify playlist, and start painting. When I’m recording a painting, however, I need to position the camera above my display, adjust the lighting so the viewer can see my hand, record for five or six minutes, move the camera away, paint some more, and then record another segment a half hour or so later. It can take me out of the groove of painting because I’m thinking about something else rather than getting lost in the work.

Once I finish recording, I need to export the files to an external hard drive, format them for ease of use, and bring them into my editing software. I then speed up the footage to prevent the viewer from getting bored. Next, I will record a ‘talking head’ portion, write the narrative to go along with it, possibly source and add some music. It involves several hours of technical work in addition to the painting.

Now, as I become more proficient, that process will become smoother and take less time. However, it’s a bit clunky right now. I don’t have a workflow yet. But I’m getting there.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit trapped by the work-for-hire stuff—both the editorial cartoons and the commissions.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I am able to make a living in a profession that often pairs the word starving with artist. But sometimes I need to remind myself of the reason I got into this in the first place, for the love of drawing.

So, I took a reset break and painted something just for fun.
I based this little fawn on reference I shot at Discovery Wildlife Park about three years ago. It’s still rough around the edges. I could add more detail and background, but for now, I’ll leave it and return to the commission.

Whenever I’m deep into one of these big paintings and hit a point where I’m not feeling it, it usually means it’s time to step away. A few days’ break lets me come back with fresh eyes, and I can see what’s missing. That pause-and-return approach has worked for almost every painting I’ve ever done.

This little one would make a cute vinyl sticker as-is, and I’ll likely add it to my new releases before the Banff Christmas Market. And who knows—after some time away from it, I may return with new inspiration to add more detail, a background and turn it into a print.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to share them in the comments.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Too Much and Not Enough

Most of the time, I enjoy writing posts for my site and email subscribers—truly. But sometimes, it feels like just one more thing on a never-ending to-do list. And right now, that list is long.

I take A Wilder View seriously. People signed up to get what I promised: the stories behind the paintings, insight into the business of being a working artist, and honest updates about the ups and downs. I try to deliver on that. But now and then, I wonder if I should skip writing anything at all when the tone isn’t upbeat. Is it better to go quiet for a few weeks—or even months—or to acknowledge the elephant in the room?

Because creating art for a living is still a job. And like anyone with a job, sometimes I get tired of it.

I’ve often thought, wouldn’t it be easier to just go back and get a “real” job? One where I clock in, clock out, and maybe even have weekends. Sure, working for yourself has its rewards, but the hours are brutal. 10-12 hour days, seven days a week, is the norm. If I’m home, I’m working.

Shonna and I haven’t had a real vacation in a few years. She’s working long hours, too, and it’s wearing on both of us. Travel feels more like another chore than a break, especially with everything costing more.

So this year, we’re staying close to home.

But even that’s not as comforting as it used to be. The wildfire threat has been weighing heavy. After Jasper’s nightmare last year, it feels like everyone in our part of Alberta is bracing for our turn. Banff and Canmore have done prescribed burns for years, but now they’re also logging to create larger fire breaks. Nobody’s complaining.

The story now feels like “not if, but when.” From June to September, we’re supposed to be ready to evacuate on short notice. It’s hard to enjoy your home when each sunny day feels like a threat.

Back in June of 2013, we had to evacuate for a flood none of us saw coming. Evacuate from your home once, and you never quite regain the same sense of security, false though it was. They’ve built a lot of flood protection since then, so I wouldn’t complain about a solid month of rain right now.
I’ve been working on a big commission of three cats. It’s going well—I’m finding the personalities—but it’s a slow process. The client has been wonderful and said there’s no rush, but that can be a trap. If someone trusts me with their money and their story, I take that seriously. I tend to put more pressure on myself than anyone else does. And other clients are waiting patiently. 

I sent her these latest pics yesterday morning, something I don’t normally do for commissions. While critique at this stage is often premature, she knows my work and offered some helpful insight into how their personalities differ from each other. Since my work is all about the character, I welcome that sort of thing. I want my clients to love their paintings.

For example, I shared that I intended to make Fable (left) look a little less worried as I develop it, but she told me he actually looks like that, so what I gleaned from reference was accurate. I’m making changes to all three based on her feedback. Then I’ll draw the bodies and start putting them together into a composition.Meanwhile, I haven’t finished a new wildlife piece in a while, and that’s eating at me. The Banff Christmas Market is just five months away. I need new work ready to print, and it’s already June.

Editorial cartooning continues to take more time than I’d like. More energy, too. Keeping up with the news is exhausting and it’s hard to stay creatively engaged when everything feels so heavy. Sometimes I wonder if people subscribed for the fun wildlife stuff and didn’t expect posts like this. But many of you have told me you appreciate the honesty, so here it is:

I’m burnt out. And I don’t know what to do about it.

Like most people, I don’t feel like there’s enough time. I’ve been getting up at 5 a.m. for nearly thirty years. I like working early mornings, and get a lot more done. But  even if I watch a couple hours of TV in the evening, I feel guilty. That voice that says “you should be working” never shuts up.

I shipped a big wholesale order of prints and stickers to the Toronto Zoo on Friday. It’s their largest order yet. My printer in Victoria came through as always, and I spent all day Thursday signing and packaging the order to send it by UPS. I still can’t trust that Canada Post will get stuff delivered while they’re negotiating their labour dispute. Yet another small business uncertainty to navigate.

By all rights, I should have felt great about the order. But honestly? Just relief. One less thing to worry about.

No satisfaction. Just… done.

I’ve also been learning video production. And I’ve made it harder than it needs to be—not because the tools are so complex, but because I’ve convinced myself I have to get it perfect. I’ve got the gear. I’ve recorded a ton of footage. I even wrote the narration. But I’ve stalled on recording it, because I know once I start, I’ll feel like I have to keep it up. And video takes a lot of time.

Still, I know it’s necessary. Video is the only marketing that moves the needle anymore. So I’m trying to get over myself and find a workflow I can manage and replicate.

People sometimes suggest I hire an assistant, virtual or otherwise. But that’s not really a solution for me. I can’t hand off my writing, painting, emails, or videos. I don’t have the extra money to offload the marketing. And managing someone else? That’s more work, not less, at least at the start.

What I really need is to streamline. Figure out what’s essential. Because I can’t keep piling more on top of what I’m already doing.

Where do you get your ideas? As anyone who owns or runs a business knows, most software platforms have gone to subscription model, meaning if you stop paying, you can no longer use it. Not an option for most people, so they can charge whatever they want. In the space of less than two months Microsoft Office 365 (admin), Adobe (design), Quickbooks (accounting), and Google (gmail isn’t free for business) have increased their prices. And the original cartoon idea used the term ‘Subscription model’ but I changed it to ‘death by monthly fees’ because my cartoons run in newspapers, and they sell ‘subscriptions.’ Not the same thing, but people are weird.

Let me be clear—I’m not fishing for sympathy. I’m healthy. The bills get paid. I have meaningful work and people who support me. I know a lot of others are dealing with far heavier loads—health problems, job losses, financial pressure. You never really know what someone else is carrying.

And I know some of you reading this are always working long hours, too, in harder jobs requiring long commutes, with kids and responsibilities that don’t stop. I’m not suggesting I’ve got it worse.

I’m just telling you where I’m at. If my emails are a little less frequent or a bit quieter, it’s not because I’m slacking. It’s because I’m working. I’m doing what I can with the energy I’ve got—and trying to figure out how to do that without burning all the way out.

Thanks for reading. Your support makes more of a difference than you probably realize.

I’m still here, still working, still figuring it out.

Cheers,
Patrick