Category: Life Lessons

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Back on Instagram. Sort of.

Four years ago, I stepped away from Instagram.

I had spent a lot of time posting artwork, trying to build an audience, and doing all the things artists were supposedly meant to do on social media. But I wasn’t seeing any noticeable improvement in sales. The return on the time I was investing just wasn’t there, so I stopped.

I don’t regret leaving the platform.

If I regret anything, it’s that I didn’t start years earlier, back when simply posting good artwork had a better chance of building an audience organically. By the time I was putting serious effort into Instagram, the platform had changed, and during COVID it became even easier to get sucked into Stories, Reels, posting schedules, engagement tactics and endless advice about what the algorithm supposedly wanted.

For the record, despite many people speaking with great authority on the subject, nobody has ever convinced me they really know what the algorithm wants.

Had I stayed, I suspect I would have spent far too much time trying to get better at Instagram. Instead, I spent that time trying to get better at my business.

But people still ask if I’m on Instagram. People still want to DM me there. People still follow me, even though the only thing on my account for the past four years has been a post telling them I’m not using it.

So I’ve been wondering whether there’s a way to make Instagram useful again without letting it become another job.

The thing about being self-employed as an artist is that everything is an experiment. What worked yesterday may not work tomorrow. Something you once thought was a good idea might turn out to be a waste of time, while something you abandoned years ago might be worth another look.

I’ve been self-employed for more than 25 years, and the only real constant has been adaptation. For a long time, editorial cartooning was the biggest part of my business. As the newspaper industry changed, I had to change with it. I developed my wildlife paintings into another part of the business, expanded into licensing and retail, built an email newsletter, started experimenting with YouTube, and now I’m working on a book of my bear paintings.

Some things worked. Some didn’t. That’s business.

Diversification has helped keep mine alive, but diversification doesn’t mean doing everything. It doesn’t mean I need to be on Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, Threads and whatever comes next, feeding them all every week. There’s a big difference between diversifying and scattering your attention everywhere.
There’s also a practical side to visibility. I’m working with a publisher on my bear book, and when it comes out, I’ll have a responsibility to help promote it. The same goes for retailers, licensees and sponsors. Those are partnerships. They’re putting money, time, shelf space or resources behind my work, and I need to help send attention their way too. Sometimes being in business means playing the game, as long as you know why you’re playing it.

One of the hardest parts of being self-employed is that you have to do almost everything yourself. I make the art, draw the cartoons, maintain the website, deal with customers and retailers, handle orders, bookkeeping, licensing, newsletters and everything else required to keep the business moving. Somewhere in there, I still need to paint.

So when somebody says I should be making more Reels, more Stories, posting at the right time, tracking trends and figuring out what the algorithm wants this week, I have to ask a pretty simple question: to what end?

I can work my ass off doing all of that and still not sell any more artwork. Being busy isn’t the same thing as making progress.

There’s still an assumption that if an artist posts their work on Instagram, sales naturally follow. I wish it were that simple. Think about your own habits. How often do you see something on Instagram, click through to a website and actually buy it? Not once or twice over several years, I mean often.

That doesn’t mean Instagram has no value. Attention and buying intent just aren’t the same thing.

Four years ago, I was trying to build an audience there. More followers, more engagement, more exposure, and hopefully more sales. I’m not interested in chasing 100,000 followers anymore. That’s a vanity metric unless those followers actually do something.

If a few hundred people discover my work, visit my website, sign up for A Wilder View or eventually buy something, that’s more useful to me than thousands of people liking a post and moving on.

I do believe repeated exposure matters. That’s why companies advertise. You see the same product, company, artist or brand often enough and eventually it becomes familiar. I’m not going to use a gambling app, but I’m certainly aware they exist.
Maybe somebody sees one of my bear paintings on Instagram today. A few weeks later, they see another. Later, they come across one of my YouTube videos or see my booth at the Banff Christmas Market or at The Calgary Expo. Eventually they visit my website, sign up for A Wilder View or buy something.

I can’t tell you how many people at live events have asked me, “Where have I seen these before?”

I have no idea, but I’m glad they saw them somewhere.

Over the past few years, I’ve put much more effort into my website and asking people to subscribe to my emails. I get far more meaningful engagement and connection from my email list than I ever did on social media. That’s why A Wilder View remains the destination.

It’s also why I won’t put my Instagram handle or YouTube channel on my marketing material. I point people to my website and invite them to subscribe.
That’s how I’m going to treat Instagram this time. Not as a place to build an audience for the sake of having an audience, but as a window into my artwork and a doorway to my website. Finish a painting, post it on Instagram, point people toward my website and A Wilder View, and get back to work.

I already have plenty of artwork to share. I don’t need to create a separate stream of content just to keep Instagram happy. And no, this doesn’t mean I’m going back to Facebook or suddenly making TikToks.

I’m still not convinced returning to Instagram is the right thing to do. In fact, going back makes me uncomfortable. I’m simply no longer convinced that staying off it forever is necessarily the right thing either.

Leaving the platform four years ago was a business decision based on what I was getting out of it at the time. Returning now is another business decision, with different goals and a much smaller investment of my time.

Maybe it brings in a few subscribers, a sale, a licensing contact or simply more people who remember my work later. Maybe it does none of those things.

I’ll plant the seed and see what happens. If it bears fruit, great. If it doesn’t, I’ll look for another crop.

Cheers,
Patrick

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And a Local To Draw Them

The Rocky Mountain Outlook, the Bow Valley’s newspaper of record, turns 25 this week, and I’m asking myself where the time went, hardly an original thought.

Shonna and I moved to Canmore a month before the Outlook’s first issue, after seven years in Banff. For reasons I won’t get into, I was ready to move on from my three years drawing editorial cartoons for the Banff Crag & Canyon. Even though this upstart paper hadn’t published its first issue yet, I was willing to give it a chance.

In hindsight, it was one of the best decisions of my life.

Carol Picard was the Outlook’s first editor and one of three partners who risked a lot to launch the paper. I have often written about my gratitude for how much her mentorship contributed to the longevity of this career I never expected or planned for.

Were it not for the Outlook, I likely wouldn’t have self-syndicated. Without syndication, I wouldn’t have been able to leave my full-time job in 2006 and become a full-time artist. And without that, I may not have created my first grizzly bear painting in 2009.

The newspaper side of my career may no longer provide a full-time income by itself, but it gave me the skills and opportunities to adapt so that I can still create art for a living. I am at my best when painting fur, feathers, and funny-looking features. And that might not have happened without Carol and the Rocky Mountain Outlook.

So when it came time to draw a cartoon for this week’s anniversary, I made it about me, without apology, because I’ve had that cartoon space on the editorial page every week for 25 years. I’m not a journalist, and never claim to be. That’s a profession with a whole different skill set than drawing smart-ass commentary every week.

But I’ve been a part of this paper since the very beginning. And I’m proud of that.

(here’s the column I wrote for this week’s issue)

1,300 cartoons later…

When I drew my first cartoon for the Outlook, I had only a few years under my belt drawing for The Crag & Canyon. Having never gone to art school, I learned on the job. Those early cartoons are hard to look at, but you have to churn out a lot of bad art before you find the good stuff.

It was another five years of cartooning on the side before I took the full-time artist plunge, a career choice I had never considered when I moved to the valley in 1994.

I’ve been a self-syndicated editorial cartoonist for most of that time, drawing five or six other cartoons each week for newspapers across Canada. As the industry changed, my art business changed with it, eventually expanding to include whimsical wildlife paintings. Those are sold in places like the Toronto and Calgary zoos, licensed on products around the world, and at venues like the Banff Christmas Market each year.

People often call them “cartoony, but real.”

Imagine that.

But through it all, there’s been the cartoon every week for the Rocky Mountain Outlook. I have never missed an issue in 25 years.

Occasionally, another newspaper has asked me to draw cartoons about its local issues, and I’ve politely declined. Just as it often takes a local to understand a cartoon about this community, it also takes a local to draw one.

From 1,300 cartoons in this paper, it’s hard to pick favourites. Cartoons I drew 20 years ago still apply today, on issues we still haven’t solved.

____

Click here to read the digital edition of this week’s Rocky Mountain Outlook.

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This Was Never About the Bear

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.

Gentle Grizzly


 

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No GPS for the Year Ahead

Most of us now use Google Maps or some GPS equivalent. You enter your start and end points and it tells you the most direct and efficient way to arrive at your destination, in the shortest time and in one piece. It can route you around construction and traffic incidents, tells you when to switch lanes, turn, and keep moving.

In the old days, we often had a stack of folding maps in the glove box. It wasn’t uncommon to find yourself pulled over on the side of some road with the map open wide enough to cover the driver and passenger side, trying to figure out how the highway you thought you were on suddenly became a rural route, then a dirt road, then a cart track, and hey look… we found a river.

On New Year’s Day, as I was planning the year ahead, I realized how nice it would be to have either of those options for an art-for-a-living career.

One of the toughest challenges in this profession is figuring out where to put limited time and energy. There are only so many hours in a day, and I’m already working every day of the week. If I want to add something, it means I have to let something else go.

The problem is that with limitless content, free advice, and options in every direction, there are a lot of things I could try to add variation and longevity to my career. There are also things that sound exciting to try, but take time and energy away from the practices that move the progress needle. But none of those things are a quick drive to the grocery store. Every option is a cross-country road trip, and you only know if it was the right route once you’ve invested the time and energy to get there.

I could start any number of creative projects or experiments, design and launch new products, but it might take a year or more to find out whether they were worth the time, effort and expense.

My focus this year is to continue to build my career, adapt to the ever-changing landscape, and try not to stretch myself too thin. That last part keeps tripping me up.

The newspaper industry isn’t what it used to be and has ongoing challenges, and though it’s not the largest part of my business anymore, it’s the only part that provides steady monthly income. I still have to draw six editorial cartoons each week.

Art licensing is where companies use my work on their products and pay me a royalty percentage. Just some examples include Diamond Art Club, Harlequin Nature Graphics, Pacific Music & Art and The Mountain. Royalty payments are subject to each company’s plans, vary according to the economy and season, and arrive quarterly, not always on time. So budgeting for that revenue is near impossible.

Pet portrait commissions pay as I finish them. Because of all the other work I need to get done, I only take on a handful of those each year and I’m booked up for 2026.

Shows like the Calgary Expo at the end of April or the just completed Banff Christmas Market are big paydays, but they also require big expense in the months leading up to them. I’m already working on Expo inventory planning, because I’ll need to start ordering next month.

Website sales come in waves, and wholesale orders hit at different times of year as gift shops and zoos prepare for their busy seasons.

Balancing all that, and finding the right mix to pay the bills while still growing the business, takes a lot of planning, with no guarantees.

And of course, I need to write regular posts like this one for A Wilder View, record and edit videos, reach out to new companies, and seek new opportunities, planting seeds for future growth.

I’ve often said, I spend more time marketing my work than creating it. That’s part of the profession and something every starry-eyed young artist needs to realize before choosing this career.

There are always unforeseen circumstances that can flatten tires at any point during the trip. The economy and the weather are two obvious ones. Then there ones you never see coming, like a pandemic and a president.

So most of New Year’s Day last week was spent with spreadsheets, Word files, and internet searches, mapping the route for the year ahead. Though AI art has been a detestable part of new technology, it would be hard to argue against how valuable ChatGPT has been as a researcher, virtual assistant, and editor.

By day’s end, I had created a document with clear boundaries on where to put my efforts this year. Regardless of whatever trends, shiny objects, or tempting tangents might pop up, I intend to keep that roadmap handy so that when I get distracted and lose my way, I can pull over, open the map, and remember where I want to go.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Stocked for Christmas, Stuck with Canada Post

It’s with mixed feelings that I can say most of my stock for the Banff Christmas Market has arrived.

My restock of metal prints came in last week, along with a large order from Art Ink Print in Victoria, who handle my 11×14 poster prints. That shipment included both my own stock for the four Banff Market long weekends and a big order for the Calgary Zoo, which I delivered on Wednesday.
Each of my poster prints is hand-signed, and the Zoo got the very first print of my latest Snowy Owl painting. It’s always a nice feeling to see a new piece in print for the first time.

Another large order from Pacific Music & Art arrived yesterday. They’ve licensed my work for several years on a wide range of products. People often tell me they’ve seen my art in stores across Alberta, BC, Alaska, and the Pacific Northwest. Those are all Pacific products.
They also produce the calendar many of you look forward to each year. That means I get to sell my own artist edition while the same calendar reaches stores I could never reach myself. Some of you on Vancouver Island have even told me you already picked up your 2026 calendar before I got mine.
If you’ve ever bought a magnet or coaster from me at the Calgary Expo or the Banff Christmas Market, those are Pacific items, too. I already had several designs in stock, but yesterday’s delivery topped up my inventory for the market.
So yes, you have to spend money to make money, but placing large orders like these is a serious expense, often weeks or months ahead of actually selling anything. Anyone who’s ever kept retail inventory knows the feeling. It’s something I never get used to and it puts me on edge.

That’s the “mixed” part.

While I’m happy with this year’s calendar order and confident in my usual sales projections, the Canada Post labour dispute has thrown a wrench in everything. Normally, early calendar sales through my online store help offset these upfront costs.

Announced late last night, as of Saturday, Oct. 11, Canada Post is moving from a nationwide strike to rotating strikes, which should get some mail moving again, just not reliably. So for now, my online store will stay closed until I see what happens. But until Canada Post proves this isn’t just a temporary pause before another shutdown, I can’t risk taking online orders that might end up stuck in limbo. I’ll plan to reopen by late October. My last outstanding order, custom tote bags featuring my Christmas Bear painting, has shipped from Montreal by courier and is scheduled to arrive next week. Thankfully, that one’s unaffected and on track.

Like every other small business caught up in this dispute, I just have to wait and hope for a resolution soon… or find a way to make this year’s Christmas sales work despite it all.

So yeah, I’ve been angry and stressed. I won’t pretend otherwise. Even with rotating strikes, which should get some mail moving again, the uncertainty means gritting my teeth, clenching my jaw, and trying to accept what I can’t change while working on what I can.

On a brighter note, I’m currently working on a dog commission that’s been a welcome distraction. I’d love to focus on that full-time for a week, but for now, the editorial cartooning is paying the bills until the wildlife paintings can contribute again. And thankfully, with each Canada Post strike and job action having taught hard lessons, all of my newspapers now pay by direct deposit.
I’m also creating a project for Wacom, featuring their new Movink Pad 11, hands down the best mobile drawing experience I’ve had. Full stop. I’ll share more about it in an upcoming video, which includes outdoor sketching footage. Above is a preview: a small practice piece I’m working on to get comfortable with the included software.

Thankfully, I’ve got a short cabin trip coming up with my buddy Darrel, something we booked a while ago. It’s a pre-market reset before the long haul through November and December. I’m looking forward to a few days of quiet: playing cards, Scrabble and guitar, napping on the deck, and wandering the pastures with my camera in search of wildlife. Fall is my favourite time of year there.
Here in Canmore, we got our first snowfall last Saturday. Most of it melted in the valley by Sunday afternoon, but the mountains stayed white for a few days longer. If this isn’t the best view from any Safeway in Canada, it’s at least in the top three. Helps (a little) to soften the shock of the ridiculous grocery prices around here.
But I was biking my errands in shorts again yesterday and snapped this pic of Policeman’s Creek.

Back to work.

Cheers,
Patrick

If you missed the video I created about the Alberta Birds of Prey Centre and the creation of my most recent Snowy Owl, here it is again.


 

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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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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

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Sharper Focus and Closing Books

After a lifetime of saying I’d never get one, something my buddy Darrel has delighted in reminding me since, I woke up on a September morning in 2017, wanting a tattoo. It was my design, and I figured I’d get it somewhere like my shoulder. Rather than object, and much to my surprise, Shonna suggested that if it meant that much to me, I should get it where I could see it.

It was great advice, and I enjoy seeing it on the inner forearm of my drawing hand. It still has profound meaning for me and has become the logo for my business.
People often ask what it means. If I’m that solitary dot in the middle, my best chance of connecting with others is through my artwork, represented by the bear claws. But just as important is the reverse, where nature, wildlife and the world around me deliver the inspiration to create more art. 

A fortunate byproduct of getting that tattoo, and probably the best part, was my introduction to the tattoo art world and making new friends with some incredibly talented people. My friend Derek, one of the most skilled and generous creatives I know, has helped me become a better artist. Several of his clients have become my customers.

Tattoo art fans will wait years for an opportunity to have their favourite artist use their bodies as a canvas. Hanging out at the tattoo shop, I’ve met people who have travelled from all over the world to Electric Grizzly for Derek’s artwork. Many tattoo artists have such fans. Sometimes, their wait list becomes too much, and the artist can’t keep track. When that happens, they often post on their website or social media that Books are closed.

That means they’re trying to manage their time, serve the clients they’ve already booked, and prevent their schedule from getting out of hand. Their books may stay closed for months or open briefly to fill a cancellation.
I have been frustrated the past few years that it seems I can never get as much done as I would like to, still failing to find traction. I have too many ideas, too much ambition, and little time to do it all. As fiction writers need to aggressively edit and ‘kill their darlings’ to make for a better story, I must abandon some things to make progress on the ones that mean the most to me.

Editorial cartoons remain a daily commitment, along with sales and marketing. I need to write posts, maintain my website, communicate with clients, pursue licensing opportunities, package and ship online sales and do my bookkeeping. That stuff doesn’t often change.

But it’s the long-game projects where I’m failing, and the only way to correct that is to decide what’s important, at the expense of all else.

This week, I started on sketches for a commission of three cats. I recorded some more of a painting for an upcoming video. I shipped tote bags and print orders, and I drew cartoons. I resumed an online course on Adobe InDesign for Illustrators so I can try, try, try again to make some progress on the book, which is also why I made time for these bears this week.
I haven’t painted anything in a month and needed to get back into the groove. These were supposed to be rougher sketches, but it’s difficult to stop once I get going. These are neither sketches nor finished paintings, but somewhere in the middle.

I have another commission for three dogs on deck and have agreed to paint another dog a little later for one of Derek’s clients, who became one of my collectors.

I did not get as many wildlife paintings done last year as I wanted, which bothered me. I have too many works-in-progress waiting for my attention. So, to borrow from tattoo parlance, my books are closed. I can’t take on any more commissions, projects, or distractions that hinder my progress on these priorities.

Hopefully, in the coming months, you will see more new pieces from me and a sharper focus on the work I want to do most.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Post Expo Perspective


The Calgary Expo is always exhausting but usually a positive overall experience.

This year, I went into it feeling burnt out, mainly because of how closely I’ve had to follow the rapidly changing news lately and how much it has personally bothered me. I think I foolishly thought Expo might fix that.

Many things that could have gone wrong in preparation and execution went as well as expected. I got my hotel and booth early, load-in went well, there were no problems with setup, and it seemed off to a good start. Even my new payment system worked flawlessly all four days.

But earlier in the week, I realized I wasn’t looking forward to Expo like usual. I went into it feeling a little desperate for a good show. So, when sales were slow, and the whole vibe felt off, I considered it might be my fault, that I was failing to project the right attitude.

Talking with other vendors throughout the weekend, however, with a noticeable drop in customer traffic, it quickly became apparent that it wasn’t just me.

We couldn’t help but speculate amongst ourselves — what was going on?

Was it the new layout? The events portion of the show moved to the second and third floors of the new BMO Centre. In previous years, attendees would end up in retail spaces while moving between panels and talks. When people left those scheduled events this year, it seemed like many just went outside or crowded the exterior aisles on their way to somewhere else.

Perhaps it was the economy. With all the bad news flooding across the border these past few months, people are nervous and watching their money. It seemed like many had less to spend, and I saw far fewer new people in my booth than I’m used to. I’ve never seen a quiet Saturday at the Calgary Expo; it’s usually a crazy busy day. My best sales day this year was Friday. That has never happened before.

I’m used to each year proving as good or better than the year before. I’ve never had a down year. My friend Ryan had a booth a couple of aisles away from me. He was right when he said, “Every year can’t break records.”

Because I keep meticulous records and inventory, I know that this year’s sales were down 16% over last year. That may not seem like much, but this is an expensive show. The price of my booth, electrical, insurance, parking and hotel all went up this year. So, depending on the year, the first 35% to 50% of sales cover that initial expense. That’s before I factor in the cost of my product.

For this show, 16% off the top is significant. I didn’t talk to one vendor who said their sales were good this year.

The show was still well worth my time and investment, and on the last day, I rebooked for next year as I always do.
At the show’s end, tearing down took about an hour and a half. But the line-up of cars to access the loading docks was ridiculously long. I have a sturdy hand dolly that transforms into a robust cart. It was quicker for me to haul my booth out in three trips through two large halls to the other side of the building where I had parked my car. That took another hour, but it was better than sitting in a long line of vehicles for all that time.

I’ll admit that I felt a little sorry for myself on the drive home Sunday night, that the show wasn’t as good as I’d hoped or expected. But after some sleep and time to reflect, I have corrected my perspective.

While the goal is always to introduce my work to new people and find new subscribers, and there weren’t as many of those opportunities this year, the best part of Expo is all of you who keep coming back to see me year after year.

With a sincere hand-on-heart, I want to thank my many repeat customers, collectors, subscribers and supporters who showed up this year.

I met several people who came to the show just because they read about it in A Wilder View, some of whom I met for the first time. I often think what I write on my site and in my emails is self-indulgent drivel, but you keep telling me that you look forward to each email and enjoy what I share.

One enthusiastic subscriber who’s been buying my calendars from Australia for several years just immigrated to Canada and came to Expo to meet me for the first time. In an email exchange after the fact, he said, “You’re such a positive and inspiring person.”

Feroze, are you sure you’re reading MY emails?

I kid.

Even though this is precisely what I always wanted, I’ve never been comfortable with so many of you having my art on your walls or stickers on your cars, kayaks and water bottles and that you say such nice things about my work and writing.

Many of you have way more prints, stickers, magnets, coasters and other pieces than I thought you did.
Though I saw them all weekend, Tracy and Sheldon took these photos of their collection Saturday night and shared them by text. They rotate their prints in what they call Critter Corner. When I saw these photos, I joked that I felt like a drug dealer and it might be time for an intervention, especially since they bought more prints and tote bags this weekend.

You two would be dangerous if you weren’t such lovely people.

I was reminded this weekend that so many of you have large collections. You know who you are, and I only refrain from listing all your names because I would forget somebody, and I don’t want to offend anyone.
Long-time collectors also bought canvas, metal and acrylic prints this weekend. I have more of those orders to fill this week. I talked with former commission clients and ones whose paintings I’m just about to start. I got the usual gentle pressure about the book, which I never seem to gain traction on, and a few offered welcome suggestions on which animals I might consider painting next.

I can’t adequately express how humbling it is that you enjoy my artwork this much.

So perhaps I needed a lesson this year at Expo that even when sales are down, it is just one event in one year, and it comes and goes so quickly. All of you who continue to allow me to do this for a living, whether you can show up to Expo to show your support in person, were already here before the show, and you’re still here afterward.

I need to remember that it’s a gift that, once a year, I get to see so many of you in person. Because every time I do, you make me want to make more art.

Thank you.

Cheers,
Patrick

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A Wilder View on Awards

I’ve been drawing and painting my whimsical wildlife art for 16 years. Licensed internationally on several products, I also sell prints and stickers wholesale to places like the Calgary Zoo and Discovery Wildlife Park, in my online store, and at live events like the Banff Christmas Market and the Calgary Expo.

Most people subscribe to A Wilder View to see new paintings and hear the stories behind that work. So, it often surprises some and occasionally annoys others when I write the odd post about politics or things going on in the news. What does that have to do with funny-looking animals? Does everybody have to share their political opinion these days?

It’s usually that many people don’t know that I’ve been a syndicated editorial cartoonist for over twenty years. But if it weren’t for the political cartoons, there wouldn’t have been any animal paintings.
In 1998, while managing a waterslide facility at a hotel in Banff, I drew my first cartoon for the Banff Crag & Canyon. Many editorial cartoonists get into the profession because they’re political junkies who can draw. I liked to draw, and I figured I could learn to follow the news and politics if I had to.

I was 27 at the time. I had never been to art school and didn’t know the difference between right-wing and left-wing politics. But hey, it was a small weekly paper, and $30/week gave me a little beer money.

In 2001, I was invited to join the Rocky Mountain Outlook; about the same time, Shonna and I moved to Canmore. It was an upstart weekly newspaper looking to compete with the Banff Crag & Canyon and the Canmore Leader.

Today, the Outlook is the newspaper of record for the entire Bow Valley; those other papers are gone. It is a point of pride that I have had a cartoon in every issue for 24 years. While most Outlook cartoons have a local theme, they sometimes run one of my syndicated cartoons if a local toon doesn’t work that week.
So, what’s a syndicated cartoon? I get that question a lot.

Each week, I draw five to seven more cartoons on regional, provincial, national or international issues and submit them to newspaper clients across Canada. I follow the news every day, come up with ideas and draw them. If a publication prints the cartoon, they pay me.

Many of my clients are weekly publications, and several are under monthly contracts. That means they only print my cartoons. They only need one cartoon each week, but because I also supply dailies, they have several cartoons to choose from.

While some daily newspapers still have editorial cartoonists on contract, many have a few available spots each week or only use syndicated. Several daily papers in Canada run my cartoons, but they also print submissions from other cartoonists, so it’s a daily competition.

Early in my career, I wanted a job with a daily newspaper. But as we learn in life, sometimes the best thing for you is not getting what you want. Had I got a daily newspaper gig, I would have been laid off in budget cuts years ago, a fate that has befallen many cartoonists in the struggling newspaper business.

Because syndication was always my business model, I never had to face losing my day job and scrambling to pivot. It also meant I had to draw every day, without fail, or I didn’t get paid. I learned early the discipline it takes to run your own business, that you work even when you don’t feel like it because you have to. It’s a lesson I try to share with anyone who asks for tips on making art for a living. As any self-employed person will tell you, you’ll never work harder than working for yourself.

The other benefit was that you can’t help but improve if you’re drawing daily, so my cartoons quickly got better. My early pitiful caricatures, where nobody could tell who I was drawing, became one of my best skills. I used to dread drawing real people, but now I enjoy that part of the work, even though those cartoons take longer.

Best of all, my years of learning to be a better cartoonist led to the work I enjoy most: my funny-looking animals. If I hadn’t been a cartoonist first and still somehow stumbled into painting wildlife, they wouldn’t have that ‘cartoony but real’ look that so many people enjoy.

I’ve been fortunate to receive some awards in my career, but not many. Artists only need one award to add ‘award-winning artist’ to their bio. They’re kind of like high school diplomas. Employers look for them on your resume, but how many ever ask to see one?

To think, one lie and I could have skipped those three years and started work early.
I’m most proud of the awards I received at Photoshop World Las Vegas in 2010 and 2014. The first year, I won the Illustration and Best in Show awards for some of my early animal paintings. That recognition was important to me because it was from an organization full of people I liked and respected. They were an encouraging group of talented artists and teachers, and they helped me become a better artist.

That award also opened doors at Wacom. They make the drawing tablets and displays on which I have created all my cartoons and paintings since the late 90s. I’ve worked with them several times on promotional projects over the years, and it’s been one of my favourite professional relationships.

In 2014, the last year I attended Photoshop World, I won the Best in Show award for my One in Every Family painting. The prize was the Canon 5D Mark III camera I still use today to take reference photos. Just like my car, it may not be new and pristine anymore, but it gets me where I need to go, and I will be truly upset the day I no longer have it.

That organization and event no longer exist, but it ended on a high note, and I look back on that time with fond memories. Many of those friends and acquaintances still follow my work in A Wilder View.

I have won several Alberta Weekly Newspaper Awards and Canadian Community Newspaper Awards for my local cartoons in The Rocky Mountain Outlook. The Outlook enters my work for those, and that recognition does more for the newspaper than for me. But I’ve been happy to be part of the team effort.

This brings me to the National Newspaper Awards. I think I tried to enter once in 2006 but found out I wasn’t eligible because I wasn’t attached to a daily newspaper. Sure, many dailies ran my work, but they most often sponsored their own cartoonists for the NNAs.

So, I didn’t try to enter again and figured I never would.
The Calgary Herald has been publishing my cartoons for twenty years. During that time, they’ve gone through several editorial page editors, and I’ve had a good relationship with most of them. But as is the case for all art, some liked my work more than others. So, some years, I might get published only once or twice a month.

A change in editor at any newspaper can be the end of a cartoon contract or the beginning of a new one. They all have their favourite cartoonists, and when an editor goes from one newspaper to the other, they’ve often brought me with them or replaced me with one of my competitors. It’s the nature of the business.

These days, I’ve got a great relationship with the Calgary Herald. The now Editor-in-Chief, Monica Zurowski, has been encouraging and supportive of my work and runs my cartoons around ten times a month.

So, while the Herald does not employ me, they run my cartoons more than any other daily newspaper in Canada. Last year, Ms. Zurowski asked if they could sponsor me for the National Newspaper Awards for editorial cartooning. It was a big surprise because the NNAs hadn’t been on my radar for almost twenty years.

Because the Herald had published so many of my cartoons in 2023, I could choose five cartoons I liked from a large enough selection, and they submitted them on my behalf. I didn’t expect much, so I wasn’t disappointed when I didn’t get a nomination.

In January of this year, The Herald again asked if I wanted to submit and said they would sponsor me. The editor chose five cartoons she liked from those they’d published and said I was free to make any changes. I suggested two substitutions, and they submitted another five-cartoon portfolio for the 2024 competition. Again, I went in with low expectations. You can see those five cartoons throughout this post.

This week, I received a call from Ms. Zurowski telling me I’m one of three finalists for the National Newspaper Awards. The other finalists are Michael de Adder for his work in the Halifax Chronicle Herald/Globe and Mail and Gabrielle Drolet for the Globe and Mail.
I’ve got some mixed feelings about this unexpected nomination. I’m pleased at the recognition, of course. It’s a bit of validation in a profession where I’ve often felt like an outsider.

As someone who started relatively late in the profession, when the newspaper industry was already struggling, I often felt too far behind and that my cartoons didn’t measure up. Even when I hosted the Canadian Editorial Cartoonists Convention in Banff in 2008, I felt significant imposter syndrome. And in the aftermath of that event, of which I have no fond memories, I resigned myself to the fact that I was not part of that club. And I moved on. I have had little contact with that community since.

Instead, I have focused on the work, improving my skills, and keeping my business adaptable and sustainable. As newspapers have sold, floundered and folded, I have positioned my other artwork to take up the slack. Financially, 2018 was my best year for editorial cartooning, but each year since then, as more newspapers close, that side of my business has shown a steady decline.

Fortunately, my whimsical wildlife work continues to grow, allowing me to continue to make a good living as an artist. But I’m still drawing a local cartoon for The Outlook and five or six syndicated cartoons each week. I’m just getting paid less now for that same cartoon output.

I wondered this week if the NNA award carries the weight it used to. There are fewer cartoonists on the playing field, and some of the giants of the profession are now gone, out of work, or drawing fewer cartoons. Would a National Newspaper Award mean more to me if more cartoonists were in the race? I think so.

Or perhaps, even twenty-seven years after that first editorial cartoon became a career of thousands more, I still feel that imposter syndrome, that I never was a part of that club. Our demons never leave us, do they?

They will announce the winners of the National Newspaper Awards in Montreal on Friday, April 25th. It’s an appropriate irony that I will be very busy that day, selling my whimsical wildlife art at my biggest annual event, The Calgary Expo. It will be my tenth year at the show, introducing people to the artwork I love most, that wouldn’t have happened without newspapers and political cartoons.

Whether I win a National Newspaper Award or not, I’ll be right where I belong.

Cheers,
Patrick

One more thing

Several metal prints arrived this week for The Calgary Expo next month, the first time I’ve seen some of my newest paintings on metal. Unpacking new prints never fails to put a smile on my face as my work always looks best in print.
When I finished this Ringleader painting, I wrote, “I have no idea how I feel about this painting and probably won’t for a while. I feel more relief that it’s finally over than satisfaction with the result.”

Just over a month later, now that the perfectionism for the piece has subsided, I can honestly say this is one of my favourite paintings. It’s so delightfully ridiculous and I laughed out loud after unpacking it. Because of the detail and so many faces, I printed it larger at 18”X24” on metal and I’m looking forward to hanging it in my booth.

As I’ll be busy every day for the next month, signing and packing new stock, organizing my booth hardware and equipment, drawing cartoons and trying to get a video recording finished, I wanted a break before all the chaos. So, my buddy Darrel and I spent four nights last weekend at the cabin we often rent in the foothills of Central Alberta.
There was still plenty of snow on the ground, on the colder side of March, and we didn’t see any wildlife. But we did what greying old men like us usually do; played cards and games, went for walks around the property, napped and played guitar. This was a selfie I took for a text reply to Shonna one afternoon when she asked how we were doing.
She complimented our usual black T-shirt matching ensembles. I told her I suspected she might be making fun of us, to which she replied, “Nailed it!”

As I finished writing this, an email alert came in that Prime Minister Mark Carney will call a snap federal election this weekend, and Canadians will go to the polls as early as April 28th. That’s the day after the Calgary Expo, which means April just got a whole lot busier.

I’m glad I took the break when I had the chance.