A new painting finished this week. I now have all the planned images completed for the bear book, plus a few I didn’t expect to finish and include. Now I just need to write some more stories and put it all together in InDesign.
This painting, which I’ve called Treehugger, was originally supposed to be the cover of the book, but my publisher needed one sooner than that. I’m still happy with Crossed Paws in that prime spot, and this new piece will have a two-page spread in the book. Regardless of which painting ended up on the cover, however, it was always going to be Berkley. I’ve painted her more than any other bear.
Having had the joy of meeting her when she was an orphaned cub in April of 2017 at Discovery Wildlife Park, both Shonna and I had several opportunities for close contact with Berkley in her early years, and it was remarkable to get to know such a joyful and gentle bear. And Serena, who raised her, has become one of our favourite people.
Though close contact is no longer allowed for anyone but the keepers at the park, my time getting to know Berkley has been one of the most profound experiences of my life.
It was only fitting that the last piece for the bear book was another painting of Berkley, from reference I took in the fall of her first year.
I often talk about the personality showing up in a piece, that unexpected moment when I’m painting little brush strokes and life just seems to appear. It’s always stirring, often a bit emotional, and more times than I can count, I’ve actually said aloud, “There you are.”
And I don’t even realize I’m going to say it until I do.
On this painting, it was visceral. One minute it was a painting of a bear, the next it was Berkley.
For all the stress, worry and grind that comes with doing this for a living, those moments can’t be bought or planned. They have to be earned. And I’m grateful every time, when the effort pays off.
I’ve painted six or seven bears in the last year, and once the book is done, I’m going to take a bear break for awhile.
They remain my favourite animal to paint, of course, and I have more usable bear reference than I could ever paint from in this lifetime, but too much of a good thing and I might forget why I love them so much. The next time I paint a bear, I want it to be because I miss it.
And I’ve got so many other animals I want to paint, especially the domestic series I’ve been planning for several years. I took the reference photos earlier this year. Now I just need to create the paintings.
Right now, however, my priority is finishing this book and preparing for the Banff Christmas Market, which will be here before I know it.
I’ve been working on this sketch painting for the bear book, and since Infinite Painter on my Wacom MovinkPad 11 was already recording the process, I figured I’d keep recording once I brought the piece over to my larger drawing display.
Stopping a piece before I paint any detail feels like I ate my veggies, but didn’t get dessert.
Rather than just talk about the painting, I used the process footage as a backdrop for something I’ve been struggling with lately: the business of art, and why it feels especially difficult this year.
This is a painting that I’ve been trying to get done for quite a while. Like many paintings, as soon as they’re finished, I haven’t yet got the distance to know how I feel about them.
That comes with time. Some of my favourite pieces only became so weeks or months after their completion.
For the Bear book I’m working on, I wanted to include the grayscale value study I had done earlier, but got it into my head that I should finish it. But honestly, I don’t yet know if I like the finished piece more than the sketch. It’s more detailed, of course, but I get far too invested in these paintings.
When I spend so much time in the details, the personality waxes and wanes and I no longer have a good perspective on them. It’s kind of like repeating a word over and over again to the point where it doesn’t sound right anymore.
And because you won’t find anybody more critical of my own work than me, there comes a time in a lot of paintings where I just feel it looks like garbage, there’s no saving it, and my best artwork is long behind me.
I am not fishing for compliments or extending an invitation to a pity party. This nasty distortion of perception and need to trash our own work seems to be something many artists share.
Early last week, I finally finished three separate dog portraits for a commission client, easily one of the most challenging projects I’ve ever done, which was unexpected. I’ll write about the lessons learned from those commissions in a later post.
I figured getting back to this painting of Skoki would be a nice breather and reset. But this book deadline is very close and that ticking clock is getting louder. And that siphons a lot of the enjoyment away from the work.
I had planned on recording more of it and publishing a video as well. We all consume a lot of video, rapidly scrolling through our feeds, but unless you record your own, you really don’t know the labour involved in writing, recording and editing each one. I just haven’t the time right now.
I have one more painting in progress that I want to finish for the book, and I’m going to try to record some of that, but I still have a lot of writing to do. I know what each topic is and where it goes. I just need to find the time to write it.
And though the layout is mostly done, I need to translate it into InDesign, a program I have never used. But it’s an Adobe product (insert fist-shaking and cursing here), so at least I know how they do things. I don’t think the mechanics of a book layout are that complicated, but I’m about to find out.
When I finished this painting and showed it to Shonna, she said there was a lot going on in the bottom half, meaning it might be a better painting if I eliminated some of it.
My first thought was, “But I spent HOURS on that!”
However, setting ego aside, I cropped it to a closer version, something I can do because the full painting is 40 inches tall at print resolution, and she might be right. Though I’ll include the whole painting in the book, I’m now thinking that when I do a print, I might just use this version.It highlights the face and personality, which is the hallmark of my artwork.
What do you think? If you were going to buy a print of this painting, which version would you prefer? The full body painting or the close crop? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Regardless, another piece done, one more to go, and then I’ve got all the images I need or want for the Bear book.
But with all the rest of it, still miles to go before I sleep.
I’ve been working on a new painting called Skoki’s Seat. It’s one of two paintings I need to finish for the new book, along with a few more sketches I’d like to include.
There’s no time off right now. I’m writing this on Sunday, coming up on a 12-hour day. Let me tell you, YouTube editing is a lot of work, but I’m getting better at it every time. At least I hope so.
In this new video, I share some of the painting process, a little of Skoki’s backstory, and how one reference-photo session can inspire several paintings. I also talk about digital painting, my hardware and software, and some of the unexpected work involved in putting an art book together.
I’m excited to share that a selection of my prints and stickers is now available at Alberta’s Own Marketplace in Canmore.
After more than 20 years as a full-time artist, it still means a lot when a local business chooses to support my work. Alberta’s Own has built its reputation around celebrating Alberta artists, makers, and small businesses, so I’m proud to have LaMontagne Art included alongside so many talented creators. If you’re spending some time in Canmore, be sure to stop in and have a look around. They’re right on Main Street, which is closed to vehicle traffic during the summer months, making it a great place to wander the local shops and eateries at a comfortable pace. The views are pretty spectacular, too.
A sincere thank you to Laura and everyone at Alberta’s Own for the opportunity. I’m proud to have my work become part of the shop, and I hope you’ll enjoy everything Alberta’s Own has to offer.
I’m happy to reveal this new painting of Berkley, a bear near and dear to my heart who lives at Discovery Wildlife Park in Innisfail.
I hadn’t planned on painting another bear so soon, as I have commissions I’m desperately trying to get completed, but the book needed the right cover, and the right cover needed a new bear.
After years of delays, procrastination, and perfectionism, my first book is well underway.
My publisher, Alexander, owner of Renegade Arts Entertainment here in Canmore, first started talking with me about a book ten years ago. Leaving out the details and roadblocks along the way, all of which were self-created, I finally got tired of my own B.S. excuses.
I usually see Alexander at Expo each year, as he’s always there with several of his authors, and he brought up the book again this spring. I admitted that I figured he was probably tired of hearing me say, “soon, I just have to…”
But he was his typical gracious self and told me it would happen when it happened.
So I decided it was happening now.
We went for lunch the following week and agreed on some immediate deadlines, including a full book mockup and the marketing material he’d need to begin promoting it on his side of things.
Most pressing of all, he needed a cover.
I tried several existing paintings in the mockups, but none of them seemed right. Eventually, I realized I needed to paint a new bear for the cover of my bear book.
My friend Serena at Discovery Wildlife Park helped me gather some new Berkley reference, because she’s the only bear I wanted on the cover. Fortune favoured me, and I got the shots I needed earlier last month.
As my work is all about personality and connecting with character, I had to think like a customer, and that meant a closeup of her face for the cover. The full painting, however, will appear inside the book, and I’ll have prints available before too long.
Now that this is out there, there’s no turning back.
The book will be an 8X10 softcover, around 70–80 pages. I still have a few pieces to complete, along with additional sketches I want to add. There’s also some writing and editing to do before this fall, when all of this needs to be finished.
You’ll read more about the project in the coming months, and I’m excited, and more than a little relieved, that this is finally a real thing.
Alexander knows the importance of the Calgary Expo in my world and volunteered last week that he’s planning to have advance copies available for my Expo people in April, ahead of the official book launch on May 12, 2027.
There’s still a lot of work left to do, but I’ll manage. Scary stuff, in the best possible way.
Another Calgary Expo is in the books. If you’ve been around for a while, you know how this goes, so I won’t bore you with a play by play.
Sales ended up almost identical to last year, within about twenty bucks, which is oddly precise. Not a record year, but still well worth my time. As always, it’s not just about the money.
The best part, and the reason I keep coming back, is getting to see so many of you in person. Thank you to everyone who stopped by the booth, said hello, and added to your collections. I never take that for granted. When I first started painting these funny looking animals, I had no idea if anyone would connect with them. Every year, you show me that you do, and that keeps me going. Talking with all of you refills my creative tank and makes me want to paint more.
I tried something new at the Banff Christmas Market last year, but this was the first time I brought it to Expo. A small display screen with sped-up painting footage, along with a couple of signs that said “NOT AI. NOT PHOTOS.” Both got a lot of positive reaction. People are paying attention, and they care how the work is made. That matters more than ever right now.
On the first morning of the show, sitting in my hotel room, I recorded a quick, unscripted video for YouTube. Nothing polished, just me talking into my phone. A few hours later, a young woman came by the booth with her family because she had seen that video that morning. She had never heard of my work before.
That was a nice moment. Also a bit of a kick in the ass. I spend too much time overthinking this stuff. I just have to put the work out there and let it do its job.
One of the most useful parts of Expo is seeing what people actually respond to. I have my own favourites, but the real feedback happens at the booth.This year, Peekaboo Panda and the Porcupine did very well, and the Highland Cow continues to be one of my strongest pieces. But the biggest surprise was the Raven on White painting. It’s a couple of years old now and has always been popular, but for whatever reason, it hit hard this weekend. I sold more of that print than I ever have of any single print at Expo, and I could have sold more if I hadn’t run out.
Not to worry, I’ve got more on the way.
With another raven in progress right now, I’m curious to see if it will resonate as well. It’s one of my favourite subjects to paint.
Saturday threw me a bit. It’s usually the strongest day, but this year Friday was better, and that got in my head more than I’d like to admit. I was back in the hotel that night wondering if my time at this show might be coming to an end.
But I rebooked Sunday morning, and by the end of the day, with very good sales, I’m glad I did. I relearned a lesson I already know. Don’t make big decisions when you’re run down.
I also had a couple of important conversations. I connected with another artist I admire who shared some valuable insight that might lead to something new. I also reconnected with Alex from Renegade Arts about the bear book we’ve talked about for years. I’ve been dragging my feet on it, mostly because I don’t trust my own design skills. That’s on me. Time to deal with it.
Now it’s back to work. The week after Expo is as busy as the week before.
I’ve got cartoons to draw, commissions to finish, works-in-progress and new paintings to start based on everything I saw and heard this weekend. And I need to finally make real progress on the bear book.
Sometime soon, I should probably take a couple of days off. Funny how that’s always my last priority.
Tomorrow is setup day at the Calgary Expo, which means today I’m packing the car and getting ready to head into Calgary until Sunday. Looks like snow and rain on the way (AGAIN!) for both Canmore and Calgary, so not a bad weekend to be indoors at Expo.
Here’s a quick video I recorded about some of the prep.
I hope to see you there!
If you’re coming to the show, here’s where to find me this year. Snap a quick photo on your phone so you’ve got it handy.
You can watch and listen above, or read the piece below.
As I write this, I’ve just turned 55.
I’ve got a strange relationship with birthdays, especially in recent years. I’ve never been that big on them. They’ve often felt more like an obligation than a celebration, something I’m expected to enjoy for other people.
Twice a year, I experience a certain flavour of melancholy. New Year’s is one, my birthday is another. It starts a few weeks out, taking stock of where I’m at and feeling like I haven’t done what I meant to in the year that’s passed.
Which is a bit ridiculous, because if I try to name what I actually wanted to do, it’s a mix of specific things, like finishing my bear book or getting out for more wildlife experiences, and vague ones, like doing less doomscrolling, painting more, and yes, making more money.
I’ve never claimed to be above that.
Money may not buy happiness, but it does offer security.
In the months between New Year’s and my birthday this year, I’ve been taking more stock than usual. Not because I want to slow down. I don’t. Time off isn’t good for me. An overactive creative mind left idle tends to wander into places I’d rather it didn’t.
But I’ve become acutely aware that 40 doesn’t feel that long ago. And yet, it’s the same distance between then and now as it is between now and 70.
That lands differently.
I still have a lot of work I want to do. I don’t think I’ve done my best work yet. I’m still improving. I’ve spent most of my art career agreeing with those grade school teachers who wrote the same thing in my report cards. Patrick isn’t living up to his potential.
Those demons are always around. I don’t mind calling them what they are, my own particular brand of batshit crazy, but I’ve come to accept they’re tied to the same place the work comes from.
That’s the trade.
Physically, I’m in decent shape. A few more aches, worse sleep, more bad dreams, a little less tolerance for things I used to shrug off. Nothing alarming. But I’m not naive about where I am on the timeline.
I’m seeing more obituaries for people my age. Some younger. People I’ve known, or at least known of, for years. Heart attacks. Cancer. Strokes. Plans that didn’t get finished.
Didn’t they all think they had more time?
I don’t fear death itself. But I do think about the stretch between now and then more than I used to. I have an acute awareness that the runway isn’t endless.
So what does that have to do with art and funny looking animals?
My start in this career wasn’t early. I didn’t even consider doing this for a living until my late 20s. I’ve been full-time for twenty years now, and for most of that time, I’ve felt like I’ve been trying to catch up.
To who, I couldn’t tell you.
A lot has gone right, some of it by design, some by accident. I never got an editorial cartoonist contract with a daily newspaper, something I really wanted in the early 2000s. In hindsight, I’m grateful for that. Staying self-syndicated meant I still have that part of my business, long after most of those staff jobs disappeared.
Nobody is more surprised than I am that I’m still drawing editorial cartoons every day.
In those early years, I threw a lot at the wall. Some of it stuck, most of it didn’t. Or at least that’s how it felt at the time.
I spent years drawing caricatures of celebrities and regular folks, taking commissions for birthdays and weddings. I did contract illustration work for board games, everything from game cards to box art. I even went down the animation rabbit hole for a while, learning software, recording voiceovers, trying to figure out if that was a direction worth pursuing.
Even though it wasn’t, none of that time was wasted. Every one of those detours built skills I still use.
And one of those experiments became the work I enjoy most, my whimsical wildlife portraits. I painted the first one in 2009 with no real plan. It was just fun, so I did another. Now there are well over a hundred, plus all the sketches and half-finished ideas sitting in folders.
That part worked out.
But something has shifted this year. Maybe it’s the number. Maybe it’s just time doing what time does. Either way, the question feels louder now.
How many more years do I get to do this?
I’m not being dramatic, I’m being practical.
I don’t need a big deal made about my birthday. It matters to me for reflection, but I don’t want it to be a social thing anymore.
A couple of years ago, I rented a cabin for my birthday and went there by myself, just to think.
And it didn’t work.
Because there were the birthday texts. Emails. Phone calls. All well-intentioned. People reaching out because they care. And I answered.
Which pulled me out of it.
That’s when it hit me that it’s not just about wanting the time. It’s about protecting it.
For most of my career, I’ve spent more time running the business than doing the work. Marketing, promotion, logistics, all necessary parts of the job, but they come at a cost.
Time.
And I’ve given too much of it away.
To projects I didn’t really want to take on. To requests I said yes to just to be polite. To things that had nothing to do with the work I actually care about.
I’ve let other people’s agendas, criticisms, and priorities dictate my direction, even when I knew better. I went along to get along. And I regret that.
I can’t afford that anymore.
These days, it’s a polite no.
Because they’re not minting more time.
Even writing this, I caught myself wondering if it sounds too dark. If I should lighten it up, because people just want happy animals and not my voice in their ear going on about this stuff.
But honestly, who am I to decide what people want?
Before I painted my first whimsical grizzly bear, nobody was asking for it. It connected with some people who were already following my work, and then more people came along who liked my brand of wildlife painting, too.
With less time ahead than behind, I don’t have the luxury of trying to be everything to everyone.
The people who like the work, the funny looking faces and the writing that goes with it, will stick around.
Those who don’t will find what they’re after somewhere else. No hard feelings.
We’re all living on borrowed time.
I’d like to spend more of mine on the things that make it bearable.
Here’s a brand new painting I’m calling Peekaboo Panda.
At first glance, this one looks like a pretty simple idea. A red panda popping out of the bamboo with a curious expression. But paintings like this often come with a bit more planning than people might expect.
The inspiration for this one was a photo I took at the Calgary Zoo one day. I don’t always share my reference photos, but in this case I thought it might be interesting to show the pose that sparked the idea. For the colour, lighting, and texture, I used several other photos I’ve taken over the years.
A recurring theme in some of my posts is the difference between art for fun and art for a living.
In an ideal situation, I would just choose an animal I want to paint, find or take some reference, put a whimsical spin on it, and enjoy the process. And to be fair, that still happens often enough to keep me interested while painting my funny-looking animals.
But this work is also how I pay my bills, so I have to think about what comes after the painting is finished.
When I start a painting, I usually work at the same dimensions because I know the final print will most often be 11×14, either vertical or horizontal. From time to time I will create a square painting, depending on what I see in my mind’s eye when I imagine the character in the critter. I keep these dimensions because it makes it easier for my customers to find a frame, and that is a selling feature.
But because I have done my best to diversify my revenue streams, which is marketing speak for not putting all my eggs in one basket, I also have to think about my licensing clients.
In simple terms, art licensing means that companies pay to use my artwork on their products in exchange for royalties. If you have ever bought a backpack with cartoon characters on it, that artwork is licensed.
The challenge is that very few products come in neat little 11×14 rectangles.
That means when I paint something like this red panda, I have to allow extra space. More background and sometimes more of the animal so the artwork can be adapted to different formats later.
Pacific Music & Art, for example, might use one of my paintings on several different products, from magnets and mugs to calendars. While my vision for this piece was the vertical print you see at the top of this post, I had to paint quite a bit more of the panda, the background, and the bamboo leaves so the image could be adjusted to fit those other uses.
Last week I finalized the images for the 2027 calendar for Pacific Music & Art. Just like other licensing contracts, there is a lot of lead time for design and printing. My vertical red panda print would not work for a calendar page, so I had to create this different horizontal version, and that meant thinking about that layout when I started the painting.
The downside is that it means more work. Even though I paint digitally and can use layers for much of the process, the final cropping still requires extra time to make sure everything blends properly and does not look like pieces pasted together.
Because my goal is to continue diversifying my work to help ensure the longevity and security of my business, I will have to make these considerations more often than ever.
But the upside is that my licensing clients get the images they need to best fit their products, while my customers get the print of the painting that I originally envisioned when the idea for this critter first popped into my head.
A new painting finished this week. I now have all the planned images completed for the bear book, plus a few I didn’t expect to finish and include. Now I just need to write some more stories and put it all together in InDesign.
Regardless of which painting ended up on the cover, however, it was always going to be Berkley. I’ve painted her more than any other bear.
I’m happy to reveal this new painting of Berkley, a bear near and dear to my heart who lives at 
I keep these dimensions because it makes it easier for my customers to find a frame, and that is a selling feature.