Tag: Canmore

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Fire and Blowing Smoke


Canmore sits in a narrow valley framed on both sides by tall peaks. There are mountains everywhere you look.

As I write this, however, the smoke here is so thick that I can’t see any.

The Bow Valley becomes a bottleneck; the wind usually comes from the west, bringing the warm Chinooks in winter. So if the B.C. interior is on fire, we often get their smoke. Some summers, it’s a light haze with a faint campfire smell. But when it’s bad, we can’t open our windows. That’s tough to take when it’s 30 degrees Celsius, often at the peak of forest fire season.

This smoke has come from the north and east.

Alberta has fire activity each year, often in the northern part of the province, but in dry conditions, fires can pop up anywhere.

My wife grew up in a little town called Fox Creek. We usually have to tell people where it is, a 2.5-hour drive northwest of Edmonton. But the town has made headlines this month for the large fire that forced its evacuation almost two weeks ago.

Several towns and communities in northern Alberta have been evacuated as forest fire season started like a bomb this year and way too early. Shonna’s father and stepmother have evacuated, as have family and friends.

Until you’ve been told to pack quickly and get out of your home, you can’t understand the stress of it.

Ten years ago, we evacuated our condo for a once-in-a-lifetime (hopefully) flood and rain event. It caused a lot of damage to Canmore, Exshaw, High River and Calgary, among other municipalities. We were fortunate to return to our home as we left it after only three days. Unfortunately, I have friends who weren’t so lucky; they were out for weeks and months.

Before 2013, if you suggested an evacuation-level threat around here, most people would have assumed fire.
Even with that small level of experience, I can’t imagine the stress these recent fire evacuees are enduring. Two weeks out of your home, watching the fires on the news as they get closer, often from hours away in shelters or homes in unfamiliar communities, not knowing when or if you’ll be able to return.

Firefighters from all over Canada and the U.S. have arrived to help, Canadian Armed Forces members have been deployed, and volunteers and homeowners are working in challenging situations to save homes, towns and livelihoods.

From the B.C. Wildfire Service, “Most wildfires in B.C. are started by lightning strikes. When lightning strikes an object it can release enough heat to ignite a tree or other fuels.”

“The most important thing about human-caused wildfires is that they are preventable. The easiest way to fight a wildfire is to prevent it from starting. Humans start wildfires in several ways, either by accident or intentionally. For example: open burning, vehicle and engine use, industrial activity, fireworks, sky-lanterns, outdoor flame lighting, discarding burning items (cigarettes), arson.” 

Wildfires are destructive enough. But what bothers me most is how so many use these disasters to further their agendas, political or otherwise.

One of the big reasons I left social media was the overabundance of speculation and conspiracy theories that pollute every situation.

While these fires are raging, Alberta is in a provincial election. It’s part of my job to draw editorial cartoons on these issues, so I must follow this emotionally charged right vs. left conflict.
Some supporters of BOTH political parties accuse the other of deliberately starting these fires to win votes. People in the energy sector are accusing environmentalists of starting fires to destroy the oil patch. Climate change activists use the fires to trumpet their agendas, and deniers share cherry-picked links to debunk them.

Political candidates are falling all over themselves to look serious,  compassionate and concerned in front of any camera they can find while accusing their opponents of grandstanding and opportunism for the same behaviour.

Meanwhile, everybody else shares these links, videos, and photos so they can feel like they’re important or part of the story.

Clearly, we learned nothing from the pandemic.
Amid all this noise, people out of their homes haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, they’re unable to work, their kids are out of school, and whatever problems they already had are compounded. They’re scared, vulnerable, and feeling helpless. Their world is falling apart, and they can do nothing about it.

Rather than provide solace, online armchair quarterbacking and political theories only add to their stress.

Everybody knows life is more important than possessions. But it provides no comfort to tell a senior who worked their whole lives for the things that symbolize their safety and security that they can always replace it. Unless you’re physically helping them rebuild their homes and replace their furniture, dishes, clothing, vehicles, electronics, and memories, telling them ‘it’s just stuff’ accomplishes one thing.

It proves you’re an asshole.

If your dinner on the stove suddenly ignites, you don’t grab your phone and record a TikTok video. You don’t check for appliance recalls or dissect the political leanings of the CEO of the company that made the frying pan. You don’t share a Facebook post that the timing of this kitchen fire seems awfully suspicious since you usually don’t eat dinner until later. You don’t start a Tweet thread that PETA has been sabotaging chicken feed at the hatchery to make poultry catch fire more easily.

And you certainly don’t pour gasoline on it.

First, you put out the fire.

Everything else can wait.

____
©Patrick LaMontagne 2023

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Bugle Boy

Whenever I’ve gone to Ucluelet on Vancouver Island, I’ve walked down a large staircase to the government dock to take photos of sea lions. To locals, they’re unremarkable, even a nuisance. While I’m happily snapping photos, those working on the nearby fishing boats are likely rolling their eyes at this silly tourist.

For Banff and Canmore locals, elk are like those sea lions. We see them all the time. It can be a herd on a soccer field or a handful walking through an intersection, holding up commuter traffic.

Locals shake their heads and sigh, “come on, hurry up,” while tourists lose their minds trying to grab a photo.

When I first moved to Banff, seeing these big animals all over the place was fantastic. Thirty years later, I’m more than used to them. Last week, I saw several hanging out next to an overpass on the secondary highway. When a herd of elk suddenly decides the grass is greener on the other side of the road, it’s a hazard.

I sent Shonna a text to warn her, as she’d likely take that route home later in the dark.

A little while ago, my next-door neighbour, Chris, told me a herd was hanging out in the ballpark next to our condo complex. He knows I’m always on the lookout for reference photo opportunities. I thanked him, but I was busy, so I asked, “any bulls?”

There weren’t, so I kept working. I have plenty of cow pictures.

That’s how common they are around here.

A local urban legend tells of a tourist who tried to put their child on the back of one for a photo. I’ve never met anyone who actually saw this, it has always been a friend of a friend, but if there’s any truth to it, it wouldn’t shock me.

Everyone around here has seen someone get too close to an elk for a close-up photo, especially in Banff.  Worse, they’ll often attempt a selfie, putting their back to the animal. More than once, I’ve warned somebody that it was a terrible idea, and the response is usually, ‘mind your own business’ or a four-letter version of the same sentiment. Many seem to think ‘national park’ translates to ‘petting zoo.’

When you have to warn people not to get out of their cars to take photos of grizzly bears, it’s not surprising they have even less respect for what might seem like a bigger version of a deer.

Elk are incredibly unpredictable, especially during spring calving and fall Rut. It’s not just the males with the big racks but the cows protecting their young. Or one could decide to charge you for no reason, something many around here have experienced, including Shonna and me.

The only thing to do is duck into any available open door or put a car or obstacle between you, and hope the elk moves on. A hoof to the head is guaranteed to ruin your day.

I remember walking home on Banff Avenue from a night out at the bar in the late 90s. A raised lawn in front of an apartment building put the grass about hip level. I couldn’t see the large bull elk lying on the grass until I walked past the fir tree hiding him. By the time I realized he was there, I could have reached out and booped him on the nose.

Thankfully, having had a few drinks, I didn’t jump and startle him but kept walking, the whole time thinking, “don’t get up, don’t get up, don’t get up.”

A sobering experience, if there ever was one.

Their popularity with visitors is why the third whimsical wildlife painting I ever did was an elk in 2009. It did OK but was never a bestseller. And frankly, it’s among a handful of paintings I’ve done that I genuinely don’t like. I made poor composition choices, and the rack was only suggested.

Having painted more than 100 pieces since then, I’ve learned a lot from my early mistakes. People want to see that rack on the bull elk, and I don’t blame them. It’s taken me more than ten years to try it again.

Many don’t realize that bulls grow and lose their racks each year. As a result, it’s not uncommon to find shed antlers around here, though removing them from provincial and national parks is illegal, a crime that wardens will prosecute with substantial fines.

Ironic that rather than take the reference for this piece in my own backyard, I took the pics at Discovery Wildlife Park in the fall. Their bull, Donald, was bugling away, inspiring this composition I hadn’t considered, allowing me to paint the whole rack.

Males bugle to attract females to their harem and to warn other bulls. Even though Donald doesn’t need to worry about competition, he still shows off his pipes in the fall.

While it’s not a common experience near our place in Canmore, I used to love hearing the bulls bugle when we lived in Banff. It’s a beautiful sound to hear in the mountains. I’d put it up there with wolves howling, though I’m sure many locals would disagree with me. But then, I Iove the sound of coyotes yipping away at night, too.

This video doesn’t do the live experience justice, but here’s some bugling for you. Hope you like the painting.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Blame the rider, not the e-bike

The following is an opinion piece I wrote for the local newspaper, The Rocky Mountain Outlook. I’ve been their cartoonist since its beginning in 2001 and I’ve never missed an issue. This busy tourist-town community is currently involved in a heated conversation surrounding transportation infrastructure. Many municipalities are dealing with these same growing pains, or soon will be.In June last year, my wife and I stopped at a Yield sign in Calgary. A woman ran a red light and collided with another vehicle, sending it over the curb into our car.

We walked away, but the car was written off with an unreasonably low settlement from our insurance company. With supply chain issues, ridiculous prices, and questionable auto dealership ethics, we haven’t yet found a replacement, opting to share one car until we do.

Having lived in the Bow Valley for thirty years, we bought electric bikes from a local business.

Biking home one afternoon with a fender cargo crate full of groceries and an equally loaded backpack, I rode up the hill beyond the Hwy 1 underpass, headed for the lower Cougar Creek bridge. Spread across the path were a half dozen pre-teen boys on their bikes.

I rang my bell several times and finally squeezed by on the left at about jogging speed. As I passed, one of the boys yelled at me, inches from my face, “CHEATER!”

Startled, I pulled left and caught the edge of the pavement, crashing hard to the ground.

Later, I could fix the bent brakes, light and fender. However, the wrenched shoulder, bruises and scrapes on my arms and legs took longer to heal. While I had loud, angry words for the kid, we’ve all made stupid choices at that age.

Many ill feelings about e-bikes seem to revolve around what some think, but what that kid said. Some see e-bikes as cheating and resent that if they must strain to climb that hill on a bike, then everybody should.

Canmore and Banff want fewer vehicles on the road. While paid parking seems like a money grab, people will find other alternatives if it becomes more expensive and inconvenient to take your car.

For many locals, e-bikes aren’t luxuries. They’re transportation.

This isn’t Saskatchewan. We live in a community with significant elevation gain on either side of the valley. At the end of a long workday, perhaps after running errands, heading up to Three Sisters, Peaks of Grassi, Eagle Terrace, or Cougar Creek on a traditional bike is an ordeal. Add in the summer heat, torrential rain, or a chinook wind, and it becomes downright insulting.

If your bike commute to work is 15 minutes up a hill or with a headwind, it won’t be long before deodorant fails you. How much will a tourist enjoy their crisp cool green salad if delivered by a foul-smelling sweaty server?

I’m in my early fifties, physically fit, with no mobility or health issues. But I have friends with failing joints, arthritis, and other age-related ailments. E-bikes allow people who aren’t hardcore athletes to navigate our community without forcing them to buy a car, take the bus, or walk everywhere. People don’t have the time, not when many work long hours to afford to live here.

I’ve been an avid trail walker for years. I’ve been startled and grazed by fast-moving cyclists silently passing within inches. It is inappropriate to go fast on a busy trail on any kind of bike.

Canada has capped e-bike assist speeds at 32 km/h.

With a full backpack and rear cargo crate, you can bet I’m using full assist while biking up Benchlands Trail on my way home from the grocery store. That’s not about speed but help with weight and elevation.

When I need to share a road with vehicles, many riding my fender while I try to navigate the 1A roundabout or drive through Spring Creek, maintaining 30 km/h is essential for my safety.

We bought reflective vests, helmets, bright front and rear lights, and the loudest horn available on the market for when the bell isn’t enough.

Drivers don’t want e-bikes on the roads, pedestrians don’t want them on the trails, and both resent anybody who uses one.

On weekends, we’ve used them to tour around town. We slow down, give warnings, and yield to oncoming bikes and pedestrians. And still, we get flack. E-bikes are new, making them an easy target because some people don’t want to share.

Trail use requires compromise, and most people around here get that. We’re an active community; when we’re not walking, we’re biking or driving. Most often, when approaching another trail user, I thumb the bell, and the person moves to the side, saying thank you as I pass; at the same time, I’m offering my thanks for their courtesy. It’s not complicated.

Pedestrians routinely walk three abreast, forcing others into the rough to go around them, or they walk into a crosswalk without looking, comfortable in their right-of-way. Some wear earbuds, so they don’t even hear the bell of an approaching cyclist, but they still get angry when they’re surprised by one.

Many cyclists don’t wear helmets, have no lights or reflectors, fail to signal, and weave in and out of traffic, jumping from sidewalk to road and back without warning.

Vehicle drivers speed through school zones, fail to obey stop signs and traffic lights, cut people off, tailgate, and make other aggressive moves.

The modes of transportation aren’t the problem; it’s a lack of empathy for those sharing the route.

There are indeed inconsiderate e-bike riders on the trails. They’re the same people who text and drive, take two parking spots at the grocery store, talk in a movie theatre, fail to pick up after their off-leash dog and run a red light destroying somebody else’s car.

Bad apples will always draw the most attention, and it’s convenient to blame their e-bike if they happen to be riding one. There’s a guy with a loud aftermarket muffler who races down my street, his bass stereo cranked so loud I can hear it through my closed windows. Should I blame the truck?

Vehicle congestion is a problem, but you can’t simply remove cars from the roads and expect the people in them to disappear. They still need to commute, run errands, and recreate.

Our trails and roads are for all of us, and compromise is a skill that requires practice. Everybody wants problems solved, so long as they don’t have to change.
____
©Patrick LaMontagne 2023

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Mountain Made Market – July 30th


It’s that time again, another long weekend Mountain Made Market this Saturday at the Civic Centre, downtown Canmore. There will be 25 vendors inside and out, specialty foods, arts & crafts and live music. The Canmore Folk Fest also returns this weekend, so downtown will be a hopping place. With Main Street closed for the summer to motor vehicles, there’s plenty of room to move about, see the sights and enjoy the atmosphere.

As I don’t do the regular market circuit, I haven’t got a big tent, so you’ll find me just inside The Civic Centre in the main foyer. I’ll have plenty of prints, including the latest releases, 2023 calendars, coasters, magnets, aluminum art, canvas, stickers and more. So come on down and support local art and artists!

Hope to see you there.

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Swimming Upstream

Here’s a little duckling I finished painting this morning. The duckling itself wasn’t difficult, but the water certainly was. Ironic that I began this year with a commission piece where water was also the hardest part of that painting. There will always be room for improvement in any artistic pursuit, so I welcome these unexpected challenges. The work might become boring without them.

When I first began creating digital art more than 20 years ago, there was a common misconception that if you used a computer, then the computer was doing all the work. Press a few buttons, apply a filter or two and anybody can do it. There was also a ‘look’ to a lot of digital art. It was far too smooth, with a blurry airbrushed look, and it all looked the same. Plenty of amateur artists still make this mistake when they get started. After hearing more than enough of this (anything but constructive) criticism, I worked hard to make my work look more like traditional acrylic or oil textures. That effort paid off because I developed a textured brush style evident in all of my work today. People are still surprised to find out my medium of choice and will often say that it doesn’t look digital.

For the water in this painting, however, I had to go backwards, and paint with that smooth, airbrushed look I have deliberately avoided for so many years. Texture in the water would not only have looked wrong, it would have distracted from the subject of the piece. It’s the contrast between the detailed hair-like feathers of our little friend and the water in which he’s swimming that makes the duck stand out.

This is the final cropped composition for this painting, but I painted more water than you see here. As most of my paintings end up on licensed products, I painted more of the background to allow for different Pacific Music and Art templates. On some of my older pieces, I’ve had to repaint entire sections to accommodate items like coffee mugs and different-sized aluminum prints.

These days, I keep that in mind while painting a piece. It means more work that most people won’t see but less of a headache when I format the painting for more than a dozen different items in their catalogue. Art (and artists) must be flexible when the work is destined for commercial products.
I took the reference for this painting four years ago from the boardwalk that winds through the Policeman’s Creek wetlands here in Canmore. Easily accessible for people of all fitness levels, it’s located in the middle of town and might as well be an urban park. It’s a pretty walk, a nice shortcut from where we live to downtown Canmore, and preferable to walking on the sidewalk of a busy street.

You might think I’d be happier taking photos of bears, wolves, eagles or other more exciting animals, but I’m just as content to spend an hour chasing around a family of ducks with my camera. You never know what critter might end up in a painting.

Only a couple of days ago, I realized just how few paintings I’ve completed this year. I painted the commission of Santé in February and finished my elephant painting in March. In addition, I’ve painted a couple of burrowing owls that are part of a larger piece, but this duckling is only the third finished painting, and the year is almost half over.

Considering I usually produce 10 to 15 pieces each year, I’m well behind where I’d like to be. Of course, one could argue quality vs. quantity, but as this work is a big part of how I make my living, I try to balance them.
The reason for fewer paintings is no mystery. Despite the dramatic decline in the newspaper industry, it’s still a big chunk of my income, and I’m unable to put off or set aside my daily editorial cartoon deadlines. As a result, those take priority every day and painting time is often sacrificed for the cartoons.

On the animal art side of things, I’ve been more occupied this year creating new products, filling and delivering print orders, planning and attending Expo and more local markets, all things that have been on hold the past couple of years. I’m not complaining that I have more sales and increased opportunities to put more work into the world, but it illustrates that art for a living is an illusion.

I don’t spend as much time creating the work as I do promoting and selling the work.

We all struggle with finding enough time to get it all done, whatever ‘it’ is, and most often fail in the attempt. Unfortunately, knowing the solution is simple doesn’t make it any easier.

Saying ‘No’ a lot more often than ‘Yes’ to requests and demands goes against most of our instincts to be friendly, help people out, and put others’ needs ahead of ours. But when it means sacrificing what is most important to us, whether time with our family, the pursuit of hobbies, recharging and relaxing, or time to paint more funny-looking animals, nobody else will make that time for us.

These paintings are a lot of work, but it’s work that I love a great deal, so it makes sense that I’d want to spend more time doing it. I’ll try to remember that for the second half of this year.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Last Minute Mountain Made Market

Last week’s Mountain Made Christmas Market was fun. Saturday was steady all day, but it was quiet on Sunday, likely a consequence of the Grey Cup and a big dump of snow Saturday night. However, I did pretty well with sales for the whole weekend, and I enjoyed introducing new people to my work.

Between the market in November and the one last weekend, I’ve got a lot of new subscribers to A Wilder View, so welcome to all of you. The calendar/sticker raffle winner was Karen from right here in Canmore.

I dropped the prize off on her doorstep, and here’s an excerpt from the email I received later that evening….”I had a 12 hour day at (omitted), and to come home to such a delightful surprise just absolutely made all the frustrations go away!  Thank you so much for the beautiful calendar and stickers!   You do such amazing work, and I will have a smile on my face every time I look at the pictures/stickers!”

It may come as a surprise to many of you that this here traditional Grinch has been spreading Christmas cheer. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.

I would especially like to thank those of you who drove out from Calgary and Cochrane to say Hello and add to your collections. I only wish I’d had more time to chat with you, considering both of you have been following my work for years, and I was genuinely pleased to finally meet you in person.

There’s one more kick at the can this coming Saturday. This Last Minute Mountain Made Christmas Market is only one day from 10-4 at The Civic Centre downtown Canmore. I’ve got coasters, magnets, aluminum art, canvas, poster prints and calendars available, and there will be plenty of other vendors there for your last-minute shopping.

So if you’re in the neighbourhood, stop by and see me and my funny-looking animals.

Cheers,
Patrick

 

 

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Another Mountain Made Christmas Market

With the well-publicized shipping and supply chain delays made worse by the roads damaged by floods in B.C., I’ve had my fingers crossed for a resupply order from Pacific Music & Art. Having sold out of calendars at the last Mountain Made Christmas Market, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get more in time for this weekend.

Thankfully, the order has arrived. I’ve got a bunch of new coasters, aluminum art and magnets for this event, in addition to 2022 calendars. To see the new designs or just to say Hi, drop by the Civic Centre in Canmore on Saturday or Sunday from 10-4. I’ll be set up in the front lobby.
Here’s a pic from the  one last month, taken by the organizer Julian, who does a fantastic job putting all of this together. The whole venue looks a lot brighter than this pic. Phones always try to overcompensate for ambient light, and I suspect my lighting on the art is to blame. No excuse for the funny looking guy in the mask, though. That’s how I look in real life.

BTW, I’ve run into three people in the past couple of months who’ve asked me why I blocked them on Instagram. Short answer, I’m currently not on any social media platforms. I could go off on a rant about why, but you probably don’t want to read it anymore than I want to write it. The short answer is that I’m putting my time and energy into my site, blog and A Wilder View.

So if you want to follow my work, with my sincere appreciation, this is the best place to find me.

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Made in the Mountains

I signed up late for The Mountain Made Christmas Market at the Canmore Civic Centre, but since I had the stock, the time, and it was close to home, I couldn’t think of a reason not to give it a try.

As it was a six-foot table space rather than a 10 x 10 booth, and I haven’t used any of my hardware and displays since April of 2019, I set it up in my garage last week to figure out how I wanted it to look. With setup time limited on-site, you don’t want to experiment and solve problems in the final moments before the doors open.

Usually, these events have vendors packed tightly together, but with distancing rules, there were 2m between booths and a building capacity limit, including those behind the tables. So while it meant fewer vendors could attend, it didn’t feel crowded, and we had breathing room. Behind masks, of course.

If you’ve followed my work for a while, you know I’m most comfortable working on editorial cartoons or paintings in my office. I know a lot of artist introverts, seems to go with the profession. We’re good with one or two other people, but crowds sap our energy.

And yet, I didn’t realize how much I missed the interaction at these things.

The show hours were 10-4, and I had a prime corner in the main lobby. With a couple of hours setup on Saturday before opening, restocking on Sunday morning, and an hour of tear-down at the end, it was just a couple of eight-hour days. I even got some painting time in at home in the morning before heading to the venue. Some of these shows have long hours without a break, all day, every day. So I come home exhausted after five days at The Calgary Expo.

Getting to know the other vendors is usually enjoyable. Sometimes you can have a conflict, especially if a neighbour starts pushing into your space, but it’s most often a cooperative, friendly environment. When possible, we help each other out with forgotten supplies, keeping an eye on tables for bathroom breaks, taking orders for coffee runs, chatting during the slow periods, and learning about what each of us does.

Before the pandemic, I only did one or two shows a year. The daily editorial cartoon deadlines prohibit a lot of travelling. Some of these vendors make their entire living doing the gift, craft, and trade show circuit, and they’re pros at it. They’ve got setup and travel down to a science. When it comes to farmer’s markets, some of them go four or five days a week in different locations, a lot of time spent on the road.

While I only had a five-minute drive back to my house on Sunday after tear-down, one of my neighbours was still packing up before her four-hour drive back to Fernie, BC.

Halfway through Saturday, I realized I was having a good time. I’ve written about this before, but I love it when people are surprised by my wall of funny-looking animals. Even behind masks, the positive reaction is obvious.

It’s a good feeling to make people smile, especially since the past year and a half has seen so little of that.

I’ll often have to invite people to come closer, telling them it’s OK, my critters don’t bite. Their hands come up as they point out different ones to their companions. Because I had over 45 different images at the show, with no way to put them all on canvas on the wall behind me, I invite people to flip through the bin of poster prints, assuring them they’re all different.

I get the same questions all the time, and I’m happy to answer them.

“Are you the artist?”

“Did you paint all of these?

“How do you do this?”

And I hear the same comments, without complaint.

“They’ve got such personality!”

“They look cartoony…but real.”

“I love these.”

Yeah, that last one never gets old. Even if people don’t buy anything, it’s comforting that my work helped distract them from their troubles for at least a moment or two. Not a bad way to measure success.

Sales far exceeded expectations, and I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend. What people buy in different places and times of year never fails to surprise me. While prints like the Otter and Smiling Tiger always sell well, people have their favourite animals or a friend who loves owls, cows, or moose. So one person buys a rat, the next person a hippo, and the one after that a Ring-tailed Lemur who’s not quite all there.

But two popular standouts at this show were the Winter Wolf and the Sea Turtle, both newer paintings.

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8X10 aluminum prints and ceramic coasters were big sellers at this show, and I sold out of calendars. Those are all made by Pacific Music & Art, and I’ve already placed a resupply order. I’m adding the Sea Turtle, Winter Wolf and a few others to aluminum art for the next time around.

There will be another two-day Mountain Made Christmas Market at the Civic Centre on December 11th and 12th and a one-day Last Minute Market on December 18th. As this was such a positive experience, I’ve registered for both. This was an enjoyable event because the organizer, Julian, set the right tone and did a fine job of putting everything together. In addition, the Town of Canmore’s building monitor, Maurice, was ridiculously helpful and courteous, and we let him know how appreciated that was.

We’re often quick to point out when others fall short but fail to tell them when they’ve done a great job. People need to hear it, to let them know that it matters.

Now, please don’t get excited and think I’ve found my long-lost Christmas spirit or anything.

Having just endured two back-to-back elections in Alberta, plus the last year and a half of uncertainty and stress, it was nice to talk with people without the whole conversation revolving around politics, the pandemic, and polarized opinions.

Thanks to all of you who signed up for A Wilder View at the show. Chris S. won the calendar and sticker draw, and I’ve already delivered it to him. I enjoyed chatting with all of you, and I welcome your feedback, so don’t be shy about leaving a comment on a blog post or sending me an email from time to time.

Coming up next week, I’ll have a new desktop/device wallpaper download for all subscribers. I think you’ll really like this one. It’s one of my favourite paintings, and I hope it will put a smile on your face, even if I don’t get to see it in person.

Until next time, thanks for being here.

Cheers,
Patrick.

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Mountain Made Christmas Market

I haven’t done this event in a few years, but when I saw it advertised last week, it got me thinking. It’s a small local market, which makes it easy to do last minute. I have plenty of prints, coasters, calendars, aluminum art, canvas, stickers and magnets in stock. It’s a six foot table, rather than a 10 x 10 booth, so setup will be rather simple; much like my first setup years ago at the Calgary Expo, with the benefit of a lot more experience. With the new location at The Civic Centre, it will be right downtown, inviting for walk-in traffic. As they still had space for me, I think it will be well worth my time.

And it gets me out of the house.

Late last year, with no shows on the horizon, I surrendered my credit/debit machine back to Moneris to save on the monthly rental fee. With the worldwide tech shortage and shipping delays, I wondered if I’d be able to get a terminal in time. But I ordered it on Friday and it arrived on Monday. It’s incredible that not long ago, cash was king at this kind of market. But today, with plenty of companies in the mix, it’s easy for anyone to take credit cards, debit, chip-insert, tap, Apple and Google Pay, all through a separate terminal connected via Bluetooth to an app on your phone, with funds deposited directly into your bank account.

As that was the only minor hurdle, I’m back in business and looking forward to spending the weekend meeting new people and introducing them to my work.

If you’re out and about in Canmore this weekend, stop by to take a look, or to just say Hello.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Fit to Print


This week, I put myself in a cartoon for the 20th anniversary of The Rocky Mountain Outlook newspaper. Since the beginning, I’ve been the cartoonist for my local paper with a cartoon in every issue, so it’s also my 20th anniversary.

In August of 2001, Shonna and I bought our townhouse in Canmore and moved here from Banff. At the same time, I left the Banff Crag & Canyon newspaper, where I’d been the cartoonist for three years, drawing one cartoon a week for what amounted to beer money.

The Rocky Mountain Outlook was launching, the brainchild of Bob Schott, Larry Marshall and Carol Picard. As editor, Carol offered me the cartoonist position. Then, a short time later, she asked me why I wasn’t syndicated.

Syndication sends the same cartoon to several publications. They pay a fee to run it, substantially less than an original. It’s the reason you used to see the same comic strip page in many daily newspapers or the same Dave Barry humour column across the United States.

At the time, my limited understanding was that an artist had to sign with a syndicate, a company that would act as an agent, send out the work, collect the fees and pay the artist a royalty.

Carol set me straight. When she told me I could do it myself, it was a light through the clouds moment.

She gets tired of me thanking her, but tough noogies. Without her advice, support and mentorship, it’s unlikely that I would be a full-time artist today.

I’ll skip the details of the steep learning curve and logistics, but the short version is that I began creating syndicated cartoons and cold-calling newspapers across Canada. One or two cartoons a week soon became six, plus the local cartoon for the Outlook. In black and white for the first few years, then colour as newspapers made that transition on their editorial pages.

For four and a half years, I worked mornings, evenings and weekends drawing cartoons while working a full-time day job to pay the bills.

In January of 2006, I became a full-time artist, and I’ve been unemployable ever since.

At launch, the other valley papers mocked their audacity. Still, Bob, Larry and Carol soon made The Outlook the paper of record for the Bow Valley, including Stoney Nakoda, Exshaw, Canmore, Banff and Lake Louise. After her partners and close friends both passed on before their time, Carol eventually sold the newspaper. 

Ownership, publishers, editors, and staff have come and gone over twenty years. The only people there for the first issue who are still here today are reporter Cathy Ellis, accountant Donna Brown, and this here cartoonist.

I’ve never actually been staff with my name on the masthead, simply a regular weekly contributor. But I still consider myself part of the paper, as do many readers.

While some believe the newspaper industry is dying or dead, I would argue that it’s experiencing a difficult transition and struggling for footing like many in the internet age. Formerly large daily newspapers compete with Facebook and Twitter, stories shared by people who don’t care if they’re true, just that they support what they already believe.

We’ve become familiar with the term fake news because we must frequently ask ourselves if what we’re reading comes from that deep and polluted well.

Many of these newspaper chains slash and burn their newsrooms to stay profitable or solvent, cutting costs wherever they can. But people pick up the paper for what they can’t get on Google News, National Newswatch or the T.V. News channels and sites.

They pick up their hometown paper for local news and views, the stories that make their community theirs.

People in Ottawa don’t care about a rural town in B.C. unless it’s burning and feeds their addiction to tragedy. Just as somebody in Mayerthorpe, Alberta doesn’t care about the new rec centre in Guelph, Ontario.

But the people who report those stories to the people who care about them are local reporters in local communities. So, when a tiny little paper in rural Saskatchewan only prints stories from the national news wire, it’s no wonder no local businesses want to advertise in it because nobody’s reading it.

Advertisers pay for newspapers. It’s the reason your local community paper is often free. However, when the content within is suddenly uninteresting or irrelevant to the people who live there, it’s hard to convince a business that their customers will see their ad. They might as well be advertising in the Yellow Pages.

COVID has been tough on many businesses, and newspapers are no exception. I’ve made no secret about the fact that I lost syndicated newspaper clients at the beginning of the pandemic. While they all said it would be temporary, only one of those has since hired me back, over a year and a half later.

I’ve seen reporters and editors lose their jobs sacrificed to the balance sheet, and many local papers have become shells of their former publications. One newspaper chain sacrificed all freelance content, then gave the cartoonist spot to one of my competitors for supplying them all with free cartoons for months on end.

Apparently, that cartoonist has never heard that nobody wins a race to the bottom.

A few other papers are now running bargain bin priced syndicated cartoons from the United States. Why would anybody in rural Manitoba want to see cartoons about Biden, Trump and the U.S. Congress each week in their small-town community paper?

Carol, Bob, and Larry started the Rocky Mountain Outlook to create a newspaper that the Valley could be proud of. It has won many awards in several categories, setting the standard for community journalism.

I hope that when this pandemic finally ends –and it will end—that our community and several others once again realize the value and benefit of local journalism and news.

When nobody is left to tell the stories, vet sources, check facts, present both sides of an argument, and provide ongoing investigations into complicated issues, the information we rely on won’t be worth repeating.

We’ll simply be sharing more ranting and raving on Facebook and Twitter by the loudest and angriest among us.

And that ain’t news.

© Patrick LaMontagne