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Last Call for Critter Captures

As the colder weather approaches, animal photo opportunities become less plentiful, and that scarcity, real or imagined, makes me want to take more pictures.

Considering I have thousands of neatly organized reference photos I have never used, for well over a hundred animals, running out has never been a problem. But it’s hard to ignore the impulse to stock up, just in case.

Hey, squirrels store way more than they need for the winter, too.

Time ticking was the prime motivation for my trip to the Alberta Birds of Prey Sanctuary in Coaldale last month. Releasing two hawks into the wild was worth the trip alone, but after editing and sorting my pictures, I’ve also got dozens of new photos I can paint from.

Still open until September 30th, Discovery Wildlife Park usually closes from October to the end of April. But during the pandemic, they created a holiday lights drive-through feature. With the worst of the health crisis thankfully over, their impressive Light The Night experience has continued to grow, open this year from November 15th to January 5th.

With winter gift shop stock in mind, they placed a surprising end-of-season order for prints and stickers. I always like to deliver those in person so I have an excuse to take photos.

I had driven to Coaldale in a torrential rainstorm, but that meant great light for pictures when I arrived. In an unwelcome repeat, but with the same result, I drove to Innisfail last week in another storm. When I got there, the weather was so foul I was the only person in the park.
While I had lunch with my zookeeper friend, Serena, a couple of other people arrived. Coincidentally, they were also longtime friends of the park. Rather than the usual bear education presentation we’d seen several times, Serena gave the three of us a behind-the-scenes personal tour and visit with the bears.
Cold, dark, and windy, the rain at least let up for a few hours. While the pictures I got weren’t impressive photographs on their own, some of these shots will be amazing for reference. I’ve written before about how sunny days aren’t great because they can wash out detail in the highlights and shadows, but an overcast day provided some very exciting photos of bear fur and features.
If that weren’t enough, Serena has been hand-raising an orphaned raccoon since he was tiny. Shonna I got to see him earlier this summer, but on this day, he was getting his first look at a much bigger world, as he was let loose for a bit to run and play in a large enclosure. If you’ve ever seen a cat or dog with the zoomies, imagine that with a raccoon. He was having a very good time.
After the park, I took my parents out to dinner in Red Deer and spent the night at their place for a nice, albeit short, visit.

This past week, the cool fall weather has shown up. Though I’m not a fan of the winter that follows, fall is my favourite time of year. The light on the mountains around here is softer and ever-changing, and we get some beautiful sunrises, which I can see from my office window. And when the larches change colour, it’s like somebody spilled brilliant yellow and orange paint all over the place.

Though I generally dislike driving, the route south on Highway 40 through Kananaskis, up to the Highwood Pass is an exception. It’s the highest paved road in Canada and the spectacular scenery is some of the most beautiful in the world. While busy on weekends, self-employment affords me the luxury of going during the week. Thursday was a pretty day for a drive, and even though the larches haven’t changed yet, they’re beginning to. Traffic was light, the weather was great, and I enjoyed the 40-minute climb from Highway 1.
Several years ago, a local photographer told me about Rock Glacier, just off the highway below the Highwood Pass. He had said that if I wanted to see pikas, that was the place. It’s a massive scree slope of rocks, and I can’t even guess how many of the little ‘rock rabbits’ call it home.

It’s hardly a secret, as the site has two extra parking lanes and several Alberta Parks educational signs about the critters.

Their peeping is unmistakable, but it can be hard to see them as they’re very small and perfectly camouflaged among the rocks. It’s only their darting movements that give them away. I’ll admit that chasing them around the rocks is part of the fun. They’ll scurry along routes only they can see, pausing on rocks along their path, perfect for photo ops.
Their primary motivation is food, so they’re usually en route to one of the small patches of grass and vegetation among the rocks, where they’ll stuff their faces before running back to their stash. It’s fun to watch.

The challenge is usually to get a few pictures before they run out of range, but twice on this visit, I was delighted to see one running toward me. With each pause, I’d get a better shot until one eventually ran right by my foot, intent on a patch of green behind me. All I had to do was circle it and take more photos. They didn’t seem to mind my presence as long as I avoided quick movements.
It can get cold up there at 2200m (7200 ft), and I always pack extra layers, but it was a pleasant fall morning, and I only needed a light jacket. On a few visits, there’ve been ten or 12 other people, often photographers with much bigger lenses than my 70-300mm, doing the same thing. But on this visit, I spent an hour and a half crawling over the rocks and snapping pics with the whole place to myself. Nobody else stopped.
On each drive up to Rock Glacier, I usually see black bears or grizzlies, but none this time. They’re likely still low in the valleys, eating as much as possible before winter. But they can show up anywhere around here, and on these excursions, I’ve always got bear spray on my hip. Aside from the above pic of a line of bighorn sheep walking the top of the ridge, I only saw the wildlife I came for.
Though I have kept dozens of pika photos over the years, I’ve always felt I hadn’t quite got the one I wanted, that perfect photo to paint from. I finally got one on this trip, but I haven’t shared it in this post. It’ll just have to be a surprise.

Now, you might be thinking, “I’m seeing plenty of photos lately, but where’s some new artwork on this artist’s website?”

I am working on several pieces and a commission right now. However, taking photos for future paintings is also a big part of my work. I can’t paint ‘cartoony, but real,’ if I don’t know what real looks like, and taking photos always inspires new paintings. Though I often plan to paint a critter and then go looking for reference, it’s frequently the photos that come first, inspiring the paintings that follow.

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The Grizzlies – A Work in Progress

With two commissions and several other projects on the go, it was tough to get traction this summer. I’m also spending a lot of time planning for the Banff Christmas markets that begin in November. As it spans four long weekends, I’ll soon need to figure out how much stock to order.

But first, there are two paintings I want to finish, so I’ll have them available for print and puzzles.

This week, the printed 18″ X24″ stretched canvas of a recently completed commission arrived. I’m delighted with how this painting turned out, and most importantly, so is the client. I’ll deliver it the first week of September when the client visits Canmore. After that, I look forward to sharing it with all of you.

The second commission is coming along nicely. But I’ve also been working on the group of bears I’ve been chipping away at for some time now. The original plan for this piece was five adult bears sitting at a log in the woods, like a group of friends hanging out and chatting. I drew six of them separately to give myself options.
However, when I dropped and dragged them together into one image, the digital canvas was very long. A long horizontal canvas has appeal for a canvas or metal print. However, from a commercial perspective, it would limit what I could offer for licensing and paper prints.

To make all five bears fit, with a bit of personal space between each, I’d need to compose them in a way that would leave a lot of space above and below. But that would make their faces much smaller, and I’d have to paint more foliage and background. Or I could stretch them vertically, but then they’d look far too distorted.

This is where working digitally is a blessing. While experimenting with each bear sketch, pushing and warping features, I soon realized another option for this painting. What if I made it a family of bears with older cubs, looking almost like teenagers?

Now, I know nature doesn’t work like this. The father is long gone by the time the cubs are born, which is good because he’d be a significant threat. As for Mom, she chases the cubs away at two or three years old.

I don’t paint reality.

It didn’t take long to fall for this new composition and abandon the old one. A family meant I could group them closer and have more fun with their expressions. Pushing, pulling and warping each of the sketched bears destroyed the initial sketched detail, but I probably would have had to do that for my original vision as well.

The sketches were just templates, and each contributed to this discovery.
Once I was pleased with the group layout, I dropped the layer’s opacity and traced over the shapes and basic features. I did this several times, refining with each pass.
Then, I got to work on the shading, detail, expressions, and character. I do that right up until the end of every painting, as personality is the most essential part and is where I have the most fun. And with this painting, I’ve got five faces to discover instead of one.
This piece seems like a family posing for a Sears portrait or the opening of a sitcom like Family Ties or Growing Pains. I’m going to call it ‘The Grizzlies.’

It reminds me of my great horned owls painting, One in Every Family, which is still a bestseller ten years after I painted it. I had a lot of fun with that painting, and that finished piece didn’t match my initial intent, either. My owls painting won Best in Show at Photoshop World 2014 in Las Vegas, awarding me the camera I still use today to take much of my reference. It’s now a trusted old friend.

There’s still a lot of work to do on this piece. Refining the light and contrast, adding colour to the bears and a lot more detail, but I’ve finally found the spark in this piece. This painting felt like one more thing on the to-do list a couple of weeks ago, but I’m now into it and enjoying the work.

Cheers,
Patrick

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You Never Know What Will Find You

About a month ago, Shonna was able to take a couple of days off, and we drove to Red Deer to see our parents and spend a little time at Discovery Wildlife Park. A scorching and bright sunny day, less than ideal for photos; we only spent a couple of hours at the park. But we got to visit with our friend, Serena, and meet the baby orphaned raccoon she was looking after.
Despite the bright sun, I got some shots of the two black bear cubs. There might be inspiration for a painting or two in the few photos I kept, but I will let them simmer and review them in a few months. My mood and circumstances can colour my perception, so shots that don’t inspire me in August might push the right buttons in January.
Although I prefer to take my own reference photos whenever possible, I am not interested in becoming a professional photographer. Connecting the dots between aperture, shutter speed and ISO and understanding how they work together, it just seems like math and bores the hell out of me.

I’ve read plenty of books, watched videos and taken classes, but I’ve never got ‘the hook,’ that thing where you connect to something on a level that makes you want to pour all your energy into becoming better at it.
I know that hook because I have it for drawing and painting. I can spend hours detailing little hairs or working to get the texture of a bear’s nose just right. I am confident that would be incredibly dull for most people.

I admire plenty of photographers whose artistic skills inspire and baffle me. The art they create and capture is impressive. But when I see their work, I don’t think, “I want to do that!”

What I do think is, “I want to see a coastal grizzly walking out of a Vancouver Island rainforest!” or “Yeah, that’s a beautiful shot of a bald eagle grabbing a salmon, but I’m gonna need a closer zoom of that face to see her expression.”

I love the experience of taking photos, especially when it involves critter faces. I paint personality in my images because that’s what I see. I instinctually imagine animals as characters, and the twitch of a lip or crease in an eye ridge suddenly becomes an anthropomorphized expression I can exaggerate.
So, while I revel in learning a photography trick or technique that helps me take better reference, like David DuChemin’s tip this winter that allowed me to capture much better detail shooting ravens in the snow, I’m always thinking about the painting.

If I take a photo where the light isn’t great, and I can’t fix it well enough in Photoshop, a picture that would easily be in the discard pile for a professional photographer might still inspire a painting. My Smiling Tiger is a bestselling image, and I based it on a blurry, grainy reference photo I captured at The Calgary Zoo. Any self-respecting photographer would have deleted it on the first pass.

While I consider taking photos an integral part of my creative pipeline, that’s only the beginning.
At the end of July, on the day I sent my last post, I headed to the cabin north of here with my friend, Darrel. With my current workload, time off hasn’t been a priority, so leaving for a few days felt irresponsible, but we had booked it months ago and paid our deposit.
Though most of Alberta had been dealing with heavy wildfire smoke that week, it completely cleared up by the time I got to the cabin and stayed that way the whole four days we were there. The temperature even dropped to a comfortable level and we got some welcome rain. In fact, on the first night, it cooled off so much that we wondered if we might need a fire in the wood stove. Given the oppressive heat we’d just escaped, we had no appetite for that. But wearing long pants and a hoodie seemed strange that evening, given how uncomfortable the past month had been.

With the developing situation in Jasper, evacuees finding out that 30% of their town had burned down, it was impossible to completely relax or shut off the news. The weather reports warned of the potential for tornadoes and violent storms in our area due to the rapidly changing temperatures. Thankfully, those never materialized, but it still meant keeping one eye on the phone.
Even though I couldn’t turn off my busy brain, it was good to get away. We did what we always do: sat around talking, napped on the decks in the afternoon, walked around the large property, and played guitar, cards and Scrabble. Yes, we’re boring old men.

While I slept well the first couple of nights, I had bad dreams the last two. On the third morning, I woke up from one about 5:30 and tried and failed to go back to sleep. Darrel and I are both early risers, and while I’m up before then most days at home, I like to sleep a couple of hours longer at the cabin. So, I wasn’t impressed.

Though we have separate bedrooms, it’s a small cabin, and I didn’t want to risk ruining Darrel’s sleep by moving about that early. I quietly dressed, grabbed my camera and crept out the back door for a walk.
It was a very pretty and delightfully cool morning, and I knew there would be plenty of time to nap on the deck later in the day, so my mood improved. I wandered up the road, spooked a few deer and watched them take off across the neighbour’s newly cut and bailed hayfield. I kept my eyes peeled for other wildlife, hoping for an owl or coyote.

At the top of the long dirt road is a treed area that falls away to forest on both sides. That time of morning, that section of road was dark and shaded. I briefly saw a long, little critter standing tall on its hind legs on the side of the road before it squealed and ran down the steep bank to the forest floor below. I don’t know the critter’s gender, but with a 50/50 shot, I’m going with she instead of it.
The base of the tree she ran up to escape was twenty feet below me down the steep bank, so her ‘safe height’ now put her at eye level with me as I stood on the road. And she was NOT happy about it.

But I was thrilled, shooting pics of this sassy little pine marten as she grunted and squealed at me. She didn’t seem to know if she should climb higher or go back down. After a few back-and-forth scurries, with pauses to glare at me and curse my existence, she opted for down and made her escape.
Though I had done what I could to boost my exposure compensation to account for the dark area in which I was shooting, I needed to keep the shutter speed high to try to capture this quick little marten. In the end, none of the pictures I got were very good, but I enjoyed the moment. I don’t know if I have ever seen a pine marten in the wild, but I was pleased with the early morning treat.

While the pics I got aren’t good enough for reference, I’ve added a pine marten to the list of animals I hope to encounter on future cabin visits.

I’m certain she feels differently.

Cheers,
Patrick
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Work-Life Balance, Retirement and Shades of Grey

When people return home from a vacation, they can get the blues, a hangover from the trip unrelated to any spirits they may have consumed. It’s that depressing realization that even though you just had a positive experience you’d been looking forward to and a necessary break from work and the routine, that’s over now, and it’s back to the grind.

In the weeks leading up to the Calgary Expo at the end of April, I had no shortage of motivation. There was plenty to do with a specific goal and a big event on the horizon. My tasks were clear, as was the deadline. The show arrived, the effort paid off, and it was a big success.

Usually, after the Expo, I feel inspired to paint, and that held true this time for about a week. This year, however, I got the hangover.

Now what?

So, I was in a bit of an emotional trough in May, which is unusual since I’m often peppy in spring. I’m out on the bike almost daily, as regular exercise is recommended for a lack of optimism. I was still up early to work, but there was a lot of heavy sighing and staring out the window, trying to figure out where to put my limited creative energy for both financial security and artistic fulfillment.

I’ve always got the daily cartoon deadlines and projects on which to work, but it can often be difficult to focus without specific targets.

However, at the end of May, I was accepted for four three-day weekends of the Banff Christmas Market in November and December. And last week, I finalized agreements for two pet portrait commissions. One is a large, active dog with a comical personality, and the other a memorial piece for the smallest dog I’ve yet painted. He was adorable and obviously very loved.

A commission painting is a big responsibility, one I don’t take lightly. It’s a privilege and honour that anybody would choose my style and work to capture their furry family member in a painting, especially for a memorial.

I’ve never painted two commissions at once for two different clients, but each is a welcome challenge. Both clients were fully engaged in the initial back and forth, and I’ve begun with a clear idea of what each is looking for. They offered suggestions, preferences and details that will make for better paintings. That’s always a great start.
The paintings I was already working on need to be done by the end of next month so I can order puzzles and products for the markets. Then there are the sketches, paintings and writing for the book, six editorial cartoons each week, and now two commissions. Finally, there’s the ongoing marketing and admin stuff that’s a lot more work than most realize when they choose self-employed artist as a profession.

For anyone considering that leap, I can sum up the past 25+ years of my career as follows: Creating art is easy. Selling it is hard.

Suddenly, I have a very full plate for the next three or four months, with timelines and deadlines to keep me on track. I’m grateful to have so much to do, especially since a big chunk of it is creating artwork that might make people a little happier.

Hearing people in their fifties start talking about retirement is normal, but I have no such plans. What would I do without my work, finally have time to explore some artistic and creative pursuits?

It’s not hard to find articles and online posts that talk about work-life balance. While it might seem like an encouraging message, to slow down and relax, the pressure often makes people feel worse about their lives, not better. The guilt that comes with some stranger telling you that you’re doing your life wrong is just one more brick added to the load you already carry.

Being told we must pursue a better work-life balance isn’t a carrot. It’s a stick.
Sure, I’ll bitch about being too busy sometimes, but I chose this. Though the landscape will change, as will the work, and it’s unlikely ever to get easier, I plan to create art as long as possible. I don’t know if I could do anything else, now.

Shonna puts up with a lot, living with an anxious, moody, high-strung, obsessive-compulsive artist. But without my creative work to keep me busy, I’m sure I’d wake up one morning with a pillow hovering over my face.

Justifiable. Case dismissed.

I’ve often read variations of phrases like ‘your work is not your life,’ a caution to be careful how much time you devote to your job. But I don’t know who I am without my work. It’s the best part of me. I’m terrified of the day that age or something else robs me of my ability.

So, I’m going to continue to maintain my fitness and health, keep my head on a swivel while biking and driving, and hope to avoid the fickle finger of fate and the things I don’t see coming so I can keep drawing, painting and writing as long as I can.

Be who you are, people. We’re only here for a little while.

____

Dave and Martha discovered my art in Victoria several years ago, and getting emails from them is always nice. Usually, they might send a kind comment or something encouraging after A Wilder View shows up in their inboxes. They’re my parents’ age; their son and I were born in the same month and year, a detail they’d shared a while ago.

They’re currently on a road trip from their home in Washington, and these long-time collectors and supporters of my whimsical wildlife art have been here in the Canadian Rockies this week. It was great to meet them in person, and we had an enjoyable visit over coffee on Sunday.

When Dave described what they’d be wearing so I’d recognize them, he mentioned that he was bald. Though I saw them right away while locking my bike, I joked that I was looking for a bald guy, and he was wearing a hat. He shot back that I was greyer than he expected.

OK, I had that coming.

I’ve known for a while that I must spend an hour painting an ‘update’ to my self-portrait to account for more salt in that pepper, especially in my beard.
I’m grateful for so many of you who follow my work, comment on my posts or write emails, sending me wildlife pictures and thoughts about something I’ve shared or the artwork in general. With so much content available to us, that anyone volunteers to receive my emails is humbling. It’s cliché to say that I wouldn’t be able to create art for a living without the support of people who enjoy it, but it’s true. So, feel free to reach out anytime, comment on a post, or just say Hello.

But please, no politics or news links, fake or otherwise. I see way more of that than I want to in the other part of my work.

Thanks for the visit, Dave and Martha. Though you worried you might have been intruding on my time, it was truly my pleasure. Have a safe trip home.
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Ring-tail Renditions

When the Land of Lemurs exhibit opened at the Calgary Zoo several years ago, I was excited to get up close and personal with these critters. Lemurs are a matriarchal species, meaning the women are in charge. Only females were in residence at the time, but I don’t know if that’s still true.

Because of disagreements in sample size and the territories surveyed, the number of Ring-tailed Lemurs left in the wild is under dispute. However, one thing experts agree on is that the wild population is in severe decline. Deforestation and hunting means lemurs may go extinct in our lifetime.

The World Wildlife Fund and several other conservation organizations work to educate and support communities in Madagascar to help them coexist with lemurs. Unfortunately, colonies in captivity may one day be the only place where lemurs exist.

One of the interesting features of the lemur habitat at the Calgary Zoo is that the lemurs are free-roaming within the enclosure. People must enter through a controlled gate, where an attendant explains the rules. Once inside, other employees and volunteers answer questions while ensuring the safety of the lemurs.

The enclosure design means the lemurs can go where they like, including climbing atop an unsuspecting person who crouches down for something. With no fence or glass, this open concept makes taking photos a real treat.

Early in 2020, before the world shut down, Wacom commissioned me to record a video using their Wacom One display, along with a voice-over narrative I wrote. I recorded a ring-tailed lemur painting for that project, and it’s one of my favourite pieces, mostly because she looks ready to snap. It’s also a popular print with many of my collectors.

I’ve long wanted to create another painting featuring several lemurs, inspired by the following photo I took in 2017. All these lemurs look a little stunned; harmless goofs, not too bright, except for one.
This photo always makes me chuckle. That evil-looking stare straight down my lens, the squinting focused eyes, the chunk missing from her ear. She reminds me of a gangster saying, “Come closer. See what happens.”
What can I say, I see cartoon characters in real animals. This is why I paint the way I do.

I have considered this photo and the painting I have wanted to create for years. I even have a title for it: The Ringleader. The finished piece will be 7 or 8 of the goofy, stunned faces filling the canvas, with the sinister ringleader in the middle, staring down the viewer.

The big challenge isn’t painting the faces but making them look like they belong together. That’s why I’m working on seven faces in the same file. The ringleader herself is a separate file that I started earlier this week.

I haven’t yet got to the stage where I compose them into the finished piece, but I’m getting there. Once they’re each in position, I’ll need to paint more hair and fur to blend the faces as they overlap. There won’t be any bodies or paws because this painting is about the faces filling the space, but I will paint a few tails coming in from the sides and bottom.
I’m happy with how it’s turned out so far, and I’m also hoping to offer the finished piece as a puzzle later this year.

I’m used to working on one painting, start to finish, posting it, printing it, getting it licensed, and moving on to the next one. While quality is my main concern, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of quantity.
So, when I’m working on several paintings at once and more involved pieces featuring multiple animals or more detailed backgrounds, paintings that take much longer than a whimsical head and shoulders portrait can be uncomfortable. It feels like I’m not getting enough done.

However, I’ve realized in recent weeks that there is a silver lining in working on multiple pieces simultaneously. Each painting gets time to rest, and when I open a project I haven’t touched in a week or two, the deficiencies or problems jump off the screen. That’s good because it reveals areas of the image I need to improve.

Last Friday morning, I opened this goofy gallery of Ring-tail Lemurs for the first time in a few weeks. I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the seven faces on the screen and said, “They look so stupid.”

And I meant it in the best possible way.

Would I have had that moment if I hadn’t let the painting rest? I doubt it. My comical critters surprised me. What a gift.
The finished piece will be a lot more detailed than the images in progress you see here. But the vision for what I’m trying to achieve is clear in my mind, and I’m having fun discovering each of these faces.

All that’s left is hours of painting to bring them to life.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Bright Lights and Little Birds

I’ve been back at my desk for the whole week, which is a welcome relief. With the Calgary Expo, delivering prints to Discovery Wildlife Park, visiting my parents, and this past weekend out to Golden for a friend’s 80th birthday, I’ve been on the road more than I’m used to.

Someone whose job involves a lot of driving or travelling might think this is nothing and hardly qualifies as being ‘on the road.’ Still, my work involves long hours at my desk and the digital drawing board, so time away puts a big dent in my productivity.

I must draw editorial cartoons in advance to keep those clients supplied when I go anywhere. So, I have done very little whimsical wildlife drawing and painting in the past few weeks. Since that’s the work I enjoy most and where the future of my business lies, I’m holding up a virtual hand to other obligations for the next little while, saying, “This far, no further. I have animals to paint!”

As for the weekend in Golden, I’ve known my friend Babe for thirty years this August. He and I started working at The Douglas Fir Resort in Banff on the same day in 1994. I was in the waterslide facility, and he worked in maintenance. I pointed out to him on Friday that I was 23 when I met him at work, and I thought, “Who’s the old guy?”

He was three years younger than I am now.

Friends who’ve shared campsites and cabins for decades in various places, there were five of us in Golden this weekend. Babe and Sue stayed in their little house, Al in Babe’s art studio bedroom, and Jim in his little Boler trailer. I usually stay in their small cabin, a two-minute walk up a winding dirt path through dense forest. It was the first thing built there in 1993, and it is still solid, quiet, and comfortable.
We stayed up waiting for the northern lights Friday, but with none arriving by 11, we retreated to our separate spaces. I’m indeed one of the old guys now.

Around midnight, just about to climb the ladder to the cabin loft, I noticed the whole sky had turned pink and was moving. I dressed quickly, walked down through the woods to the main landing and knocked on Jim’s trailer. He woke startled, and I told him he’d want to get up and see the show.

When he saw the sky, he said I should get Al, while he went to wake Babe and Sue.

We all sat outside for an hour watching one of the most unique and spectacular northern lights shows any of us had ever seen.

In 1993, while I was in EMT training in Lac La Biche, a group of us drove out to Sir Winston Churchill Park on a very cold winter night to watch the northern lights. Many colours danced back and forth above, but what made it most memorable was seeing the sky reflected in the clear ice of the massive lake. From the edge of the shoreline, it felt like we were standing inside the aurora.

Those were the best northern lights I’ve ever seen. Last weekend was a close second.
The next morning, I admitted that just before I knocked on a dark, quiet trailer, I wondered if I was painting a target on my chest. Nobody likes to be woken from a dead sleep. Thankfully, all agreed it was worth it. After all, that’s what Saturday afternoon lawn chair naps are for.

My low-res grainy phone pics above are unremarkable compared to the fantastic captures I’ve seen online, shared by skilled photographers worldwide. Hopefully some of you got to see the show for yourselves. Photos rarely rival the experience.
On Saturday, several hummingbirds made rounds at three or four feeders Babe and Sue have around their home. Having never before captured decent shots of these tiny speedsters, I must have learned a few things over the years as I came home with several potential reference photos, more than you see here.
While these photos are edited, of course, that convenient red background is Babe’s little barn garage for his trailer, as a couple of the hummingbirds landed and sat on the safety wire surrounding the deck of the house.
My first instinct is to paint several of these poses, a line of little hummingbirds on the same wire, and devise my own vibrant colour scheme for each bird. I’m sure that seems like sacrilege to any hardcore birders, but my art doesn’t represent reality. I guess I’ll see what happens when I get into it, whenever that might be.
Regardless of how or when I paint from these pics, I enjoyed stalking the quick little critters. The best part about taking wildlife photos strictly for reference is that it doesn’t matter if the backgrounds or lighting aren’t great. Where a wildlife photographer might not see an image worthy of sharing or printing, all I care about is the detail and whether it inspires a possible painting or two.
And that’s my cue to head back to the drawing board. Next time, I’ll have some new artwork to share, or at least some works in progress.

Cheers,
Patrick

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A Solitude on This Side of Fifty

Most years, I’d rather let my birthday go unnoticed, and thankfully, I married someone who feels the same way about hers. If someone mentioned having a birthday ‘party’ for me, my first thought would be, “What the hell did I ever do to you?”

Given my nature, it’s no mystery why birthdays make me melancholy. Another year older with not enough accomplished. Dwelling on past mistakes or missed opportunities is an unhealthy perspective and does nothing good for the mind or soul, but we’re all human. We feel what we feel.

This side of 50, I no longer tolerate cheap-seat criticism for who I am, especially from those who wouldn’t take it from me. I’ve heard this sentiment called the Fuck-It Fifties, and I have embraced that. A wise philosopher once said, “I yam what I yam and dats all that I yam.”

As my 53rd birthday approached, I still felt low after a long, dark winter. Rather than stay home, brood and make Shonna’s weekend miserable, I decided to get away by myself. She had no objection.

While friends and I have rented a cabin a few times a year in the Central Alberta foothills, I associate that place with social gatherings, games, music, late nights, and sharing spirits of the bottled variety.
But on the northern border of that same property, nestled beside secluded wetlands, there is another cabin. It’s one room, one bed, solar power for lights, an outhouse, no water and no noise. It’s at the end of a road, behind a gate on private property.

Cooking is outside on a propane stove and tabletop BBQ. The only heat is from a wood stove and you bring your own bedding. Were it not for the comfort and unique personality of the place, it’s a stone’s throw from camping.

I brought my camera, guitar, books, writing and drawing tools and told myself I’d be open to what happens, intending to let go and relax. It took very little time, however, to realize that I had also brought myself on this getaway, and that’s not how I roll.

The usual 2.5-hour drive from Canmore took longer because of a spring snow event. Had I seen a video of the white-knuckle experience I was in for, I would have stayed home. But once I arrived and pried my fingers from the steering wheel, I was glad to be there.
While shovelling snow, I scared a snowshoe hare out from under the deck, and I took that as a good sign. I wanted to see wildlife, even though this critter did not want to see me.

After I unloaded my stuff, I sat on the couch, took a deep breath and thought, “Now what?”

At home, I prefer long days working alone, but I never have a shortage of things to do to occupy my time and mind. We all have nasty demons that remind us of our failures, regrets, and shortcomings. When you find yourself alone with nothing to distract you, their voices become louder. As the man said, “Wherever you go, there you are.”
The property owners have become friends over the years, and I like to visit them. While on my daily wanders, I walked up to their place a couple of times, a 5-6 km round trip from where I was staying, as I had no interest in taking the shortest route.

I confessed Friday afternoon that I felt a little low, a confusing realization since I know and enjoy this place. Sitting in the cabin alone, looking at the beautiful view, I wondered if I had made a mistake. Karen said it often takes people at least 24 hours to get used to the solitude. She shared that one woman, another artist, booked a cabin for three nights and left after one day because she couldn’t handle being alone in the quiet.

I felt sorry for that stranger but didn’t judge her because I understood. On the walk back to the cabin, I wished she’d given herself a little more time.

By Friday evening, after dinner, I was past my own discomfort and genuinely began to relax. I sat at the small table, looking out at the falling snow, well into a book I’d wanted to read for a while. I made a big mug of tea, put more wood on the fire and that’s how I spent the rest of my evening.

For the remainder of the weekend, I played guitar, read my book, and sat quietly on the deck in the sunshine. I went to bed when I felt like it, got up early before the sun, and wandered the property with my camera.
Free to roam more than 300 acres of pasture, wetlands, and forest, I walked close to 20km over 72 hours in snow and sunshine. It was peaceful and very pretty.

People see moose here, walking right by the cabin. I saw one in the distance years ago. On previous visits, I’ve seen owls, deer, and coyotes several times. Even though I know that wildlife doesn’t punch a clock, I hoped for an encounter or two.
In the new fallen snow, fresh moose, coyote, deer and rabbit tracks were all over the place, many of them just hours old. I heard the coyotes at night and in the morning, and that was nice. It’s one of my favourite sounds. I listened to an owl calling two nights in a row. But all I saw were little birds flying here and there, a few ravens, a couple of geese, and that scared little bunny when I first arrived.

I didn’t even see a squirrel.
I know professional photographers who spend great amounts of time, energy and money to get to remote places, park themselves in a blind, right next to a game trail for hours and days on end, and often come home with little or nothing to show for it.

But I’ll confess to feeling a little insulted. When you paint personality in whimsical wildlife, you end up with a warped sense of expectation regarding actual wildlife. Come on, I thought we were friends, here.

Upon reflection, had I seen and photographed cooperative critters, I would have undoubtedly spent hours going through them on my iPad. I would have made some edits, considered possible paintings, and wrote something about the experience, and I would have edited that, too. Suddenly, I’d be working.

So, perhaps I got what I needed, instead of what I wanted.

On the perfect sunny drive home on dry roads with light traffic, I had time to reflect and was content with the experience. I spent my birthday by myself, without anyone telling me how I should be celebrating it. I got up early, as I prefer, without walking on eggshells for fear of waking anybody up, which is often the case on cabin visits with friends. I played guitar and sang, fumbled with chord changes, learning songs I didn’t know, without intruding on anyone else’s peace and quiet.

I asked no permission, made no apologies, and had no schedule or agenda. And though it took me a day to settle into it, I now wish I could have stayed longer.

Maybe next time.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Wilder Wishes

If you’re like me, bombarded daily with negative news and polarized opinions, this noisy world can become overwhelming. It bothers me, and I often wonder, “Why are people so mean to each other?”

As a species, we’re primed to pay attention to this stuff, which feels like an immediate threat. Not only do we focus on the worst of our behaviour, we feel compelled to share it with others. And when everybody shares bad news, it seems like that’s all there is.

Though I’m not on social media anymore, I’m as guilty as the next person. I’m fully invested in the negative bias that we’re all strapped into the proverbial handbasket, picking up speed on a steep downhill. Is it getting hot in here?

While editorial cartooning requires me to follow the news, I also spend much of my time painting whimsical wildlife that makes people happy. I know this because collectors and subscribers tell me so. And when I get to share that work in person at Christmas markets and the upcoming Calgary Expo, I see the evidence for myself.

At market events, a steady stream of people walks by my booth for hours on end. They might be talking to each other, looking at their phones, pointing at things, or absent-mindedly scanning their surroundings. But often, when their eyes find my work, they stop and smile. Over several days at a market, I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I see the same phenomenon.
It’s a moment of connection between my funny-looking animals and people I’ve never met. I love watching it happen, and it is a reminder that something I created made somebody else’s day a little better, if only for a moment. In a world that often seems nasty, with people intent on highlighting our worst qualities, I create art that makes people smile. I often forget that, but when I do remember, I’m grateful for this ability.

You can change yourself, but you can’t change other people. You can influence them, though, for better or worse.

It can be as simple as holding a door or letting someone go ahead of you in line, offering to take somebody’s photo for them when they’re struggling with an awkward selfie, being courteous on a shared bike/pedestrian path, or putting away your phone and giving somebody your full attention.
If you know me well, all this might sound hypocritical. I struggle with seeing the good in the world, which often puts me in a dark mood. But just like a smoker knows the habit is unhealthy, it’s worth the effort to try to cut back and eventually quit.

Because even though I’m not always a fan of our species, I know that life is hard for everybody. We’ve all got stuff we’re dealing with and can get so caught up in our own issues that we forget others are struggling, too. Empathy is a skill and a choice.
So, to spread some positive feelings around, I created these Wilder Wishes images you see here, from some of my paintings. If you like them, send one in an email or text it to someone who might need a lift. Share one on social media or wherever you want. Or print them for yourself to stick on your fridge or desk.

You can save each of these images from this post or download all five from this Dropbox link.
If one of these happy faces makes the day a little brighter, for you or somebody else, then that makes mine better, too. Sometimes, you’ve got to give a smile to get one back.

Have a good week,
Patrick

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An Update on Puzzles, Postcards and Prints

Although I haven’t felt like writing much lately, I figured I should post an update. I’ve been busy working on a couple of paintings, and while I would have liked to have finished one by this week, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to take a much-needed break.
My buddy Darrel and I spent five days last week at the cabin we rent in the foothills of central Alberta. Even though our first visit there was in January of 2018, we don’t often go during the winter months.

But with an opportunity in both our schedules, we won the gamble that it was available on short notice. You never know what you’ll get in February, but we lucked out with typical pleasant winter temperatures and several comfortable sunny days.

The only animals we saw were several white-tailed deer, though plenty of coyote and rabbit tracks. I had hoped to capture a moose, coyote or owl, but wildlife doesn’t punch a clock.
Back to work, I’m already preparing for the Calgary Expo at the end of April, figuring out the stock I’ll order and trying to make the most efficient use of my creative time and energy.

Puzzles

While I had planned to do a puzzle pre-order this month, I have changed my mind. I’m sure puzzle enthusiasts put them together all year long, but if there is a season for this hobby, it’s when the weather keeps people inside. When spring rolls around, most people want to spend more time outdoors. I know I do.

Another consideration is that puzzles cost more than other items, especially when one factors in shipping. The state of the economy is no secret, and I know many people are watching their spending right now, including me. I’m thinking carefully about which products to invest in and planning the best time to do so.

With that in mind, it seems like launching the next round of puzzle designs in March would be poor timing for maximum sales. While I did very well with all my other products at the Calgary Expo, I didn’t sell many puzzles. Since I don’t want to end up with a lot of stock sitting on a shelf all summer, I have decided to hold off on new designs until the fall, when I’ll have more opportunities to sell them.

I have two detailed paintings in mind for two of the puzzles, and though I’ve started on both, each is a challenging piece. I don’t want to rush them.

Postcards

Several years ago, I sold postcard sets of my work, which were popular with the Expo crowd for a few years. Then, interest dropped off one year, so I discontinued the product and focused on others. But last year, people began asking for them again.

A knowledgeable friend in retail told me that some products go in cycles, including postcards. I won’t know if that’s true for me unless I try them again. So, I’ll relaunch 4×6 postcards sets at this year’s Calgary Expo at the end of April. If they do well, I’ll continue to stock them for future markets as long as there’s interest.

Prints

Since I had to proof four new paintings recently, and the Calgary Zoo placed their first large order of the year, I figured I might as well begin stocking my Expo prints at the same time. I spent most of Monday afternoon signing and packaging a large order from my Victoria supplier, Art Ink Print.

I still want to finish a few more paintings before the Expo, so I’ll place another large order in the next couple of months. But it’s nice to get an early start.

Several of you will wait to buy new prints until you visit me at my Expo booth, but most won’t have that opportunity. With no real reason to wait, I’m pleased to announce that the first prints of Genial Grizzly, Golden Bear, Meerkat and Raven on White are now available in the online store.

I’ve also restocked TEN prints that had sold out, which makes almost 50 different prints and a dozen stickers now available in the store, so please take a look and see if there’s something in there you like. All prints are 11×14 and should be an easy-to-find frame size, wherever you choose to buy yours.

That’s it for now, and I hope to have a new painting (with a lot of hair!) to share with you very soon.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Dark Days and Raven Reference

You can attribute it to seasonal affective disorder, lack of light, or the extreme cold weather that settled in this week, but January is not my favourite month. I am at my most miserable and misanthropic this time of year, coupled with a short fuse. My jaw has been bugging me for a couple of weeks, a consequence of unconscious clenching and teeth grinding. I’m not sleeping well and have bad dreams.

As a result, I’ve been keeping to myself more than usual.

I haven’t got any motivation right now, and when I mentioned it to Shonna, she reminded me this happens every year. It’s funny how I forget.

I’m still up at five each day and at my desk by six because this is my job, and I have obligations and daily deadlines. The best advice I ever give anyone who asks me about art-for-a-living is that you have to work when you don’t want to, just like everybody else.
But at the moment, each cartoon takes longer to draw because I’m easily distracted. I’ve got two paintings in progress, but I’m finding the work about as exciting as assembling IKEA furniture.

Though we plan to keep riding our bikes all winter, it’s far too icy right now and brutally cold, something we’re both genuinely pissed about. I’ve been forcing myself to get out and walk most days, finding any excuse to run an errand downtown. I’ll layer up and walk the 6 km round trip to Safeway for only a couple of items, just to get some exercise and light exposure.
On the way, there’s a long stretch of paved pathway beside the train tracks. It runs behind another grocery store, recycling drop-off, and Canadian Tire and several ravens hang out in the area, scavenging for scraps.

Ravens can get quite large here. They often seem comically arrogant with their vocalizations and antics. They bicker at each other, and me if I get too close, but they’re usually too lazy to fly away until the last minute. I’m likely projecting my own impressions upon them, but given the nature of my work, I do that with most animals.
But when a raven flops down on his back and rolls around in the snow, pausing several times to look right into my lens, it’s hard not to imagine it’s doing it for my benefit. I took quite a few shots of this clown before he (or she) finally got back on his feet.

So, despite my brooding melancholy and lack of enthusiasm, I’ve been taking my camera along on these forced marches. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve captured dozens of remarkable reference photos for future paintings, many more than the ones you see here.
Thanks to a recent photo tip technique on my friend David duChemin’s site, I’ve been using Auto-ISO, adjusting the EV Compensation as much as +2 and cranking the shutter speed to higher than I usually would. Though many of the photos came out lighter than expected, requiring Camera RAW correction in Photoshop, I was suddenly capturing amazing detail in the raven feathers and features. Some of the flying shots are so sharp I can paint from them.
While a professional photographer might deem them unworthy for prints or portfolio pieces, I use the photos strictly for reference, so any flaws don’t matter.

I’m currently working on a raven painting from shots I took two weeks ago. But I now have dozens of others I can paint from down the road.
Though I’m struggling to find my creative spark right now, I know it will return as spring gets closer, and my mood will improve with more sunlight and warmer weather. It always does. And should I want to paint more ravens then, I’ll be grateful I forced myself to get out now and that I took my camera with me, even though I didn’t feel like it.

Cheers,
Patrick