
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.






I keep these dimensions because it makes it easier for my customers to find a frame, and that is a selling feature.

This porcupine turned out to be a lot more fun than I expected, and that was exactly what I needed right now.
But this piece reminded me why I sit down to paint in the first place.

So he knew what he wanted when he asked me to paint 10-year-old Delta.


I’ve already got my next few 


The cover features one of my favourite new paintings, The Grizzlies. Inside you’ll find a mix of new pieces and some perennial bestsellers. I’ll let you know when they’re available.
I had thought about doing a subscriber pre-order, but to be blunt, I don’t trust that Canada Post won’t strike again for the holidays. If that happened, I’d be stuck with prepaid orders I couldn’t ship and a pile of unhappy customers. Rather than risk it, I bit the bullet, paid for the order myself, and will sell them in person and online as long as stock lasts.
After wrapping up the three-cat commission I’ve been working on (and talking about) for the past couple of months, I needed a reset. Not a full break—but something without expectations, pressure, or deadlines. Just a chance to paint for myself again.

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.

This particular cartoon also featured a grizzly bear—so the best of both worlds. I signed both prints and shipped them yesterday.
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.
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’ve been working on a commission of three cats, and it’s coming along well. The client has provided some valuable feedback on the images I’ve shared so far. I’ve also recorded a bunch of the process, written the video narrative, and I’m still working on that video and the painting itself.
I based this little fawn on reference I shot at 
First, here’s a painting I just finished yesterday called Pouty Bear. Even though most of the animals I paint are smiling and happy, I occasionally change them up, even if I know that a different expression may not appeal to people.
Commissions and Comic-Con

Several people emailed me asking if I’ll have them in the
But I’d love to hear your thoughts.