An Artist Muses

It wasn't until about the mid nineteenth century that the idea of going to the beach for a holiday began to take hold with the general public.  Prior to that it had primarily been a thing for the nobility, who on the advice of their physicians, sought the restorative effects of bathing in the sea.  It was the industrial revolution that started to change the equation.  Mechanization meant that humans were less and less involved in the brute efforts of tending the land and more likely to be employed in the cities.  As such, fleeing the tight confines of urban life for the seaside became more and more desirable, and the increasing sophistication of the railway system meant more and more people could make that escape.  Seaside resort towns, especially in Britain, flourished during the nineteenth century.   What fascinates me about beach-going images from the Victorian and Edwardian era is the uneasy relationship between the practical need to de-clothe at the beach and the prev

  Lawren Harris' "Mt. Robson" versus my "Monolith" I'm sure most artists would like to think that they are creating work that is innovative, fresh and never-before-seen...but the blunt reality is that as part of the 21st century cohort we all have a massive visual history in our collective memory that we draw on (consciously or not) when creating our art.  In short, "It's all been done before".  I too, have my influences.  Some I've deliberately emulated and as such am well aware of...but other artists with similar styles have also been brought to my attention by other people over the years.  I'll run some of their works beside some of mine...an exercise I engage in with much trepidation.  Directly comparing my work to that of established artists (and by no means am I claiming to be a peer) is in some proportion brave or foolhardy, and I'll let the reader decide where that dividing line lies. ALEX COLVILLE

An important part of my effort to be a career artist is to try and have my work seen in as many places as possible.  Thus I'm quite relentless on social media and other on-line forums.  Every now and then I'll check in to see how far my efforts may be reaching.  One of the best ways to do that is  to 'Google' yourself...sometimes just your name, sometimes adding the word 'artist' after it.  Google Images reverse image search is another excellent tool.  The results can be very surprising.   Before I start the ball rolling, I'll just note that many of my 'own name' search results come from places where I've purposely loaded up images, such as Facebook or Twitter or my various print-making services.  I also get hits from published articles about me or shows I've curated.  Those things I'm generally aware of.  What I find far more amusing are the ones I had no idea about.  They are what I'm presenting here.  And just for the reco

"Caught by the Storm" 2009 I painted the above painting a few years ago, and, as quintessentially Canadian a scene as it seems to be, it is in fact a depiction of Raleigh, North Carolina in the 1930s.  The Walgreen's storefront is something of a clue in that regard.   Much of my work is researching archival images.  Typically what I'll do is enter a Google search like "Winter Night 1930" and see what comes up.  This one from Raleigh stopped me in my tracks, for reasons that would be obvious to anyone who follows my work.  It's of a freak snowstorm that hit the city in 1936. I'm often asked at art shows whether my paintings are based on photographs, and the answer is that it's a mix.  Some of them are more or less faithful reproductions.  A lot of them are completely invented scenes, but I'll use photos as a reference for what an old car, wagon or lamppost looks like.  But the usual scenario is "reproduction with e

Hockey - Christie Pits If ever a list was created of "Quintessential Canadian Things to Do", then surely playing hockey on an outdoor rink would rank near the top.  Our nation is literally dotted with community rinks that spring to life from December to March (or possibly longer depending on latitude). The experience begins with a walk through the frosty night, boots crunching on the snow underfoot. In the distance is the glow from the reflected lights on the sheet of white, and before long the distinctive sounds of skate-blade-on-ice and puck-on-board are heard.  In the best case scenario, there's a changing shack beside the ice with some sort of basic heating system.  In days gone by that would have meant a wood stove, and the aroma emanating from it would have added a pleasing olfactory element to the walk to the rink.  If no such shack existed, then the snowbank made from rink scrapings became the impromptu, if icy, bench for lacing up the skates.  Then it

Times Square mid 1930s I'm writing this blog on New Year's Day, 2019, and I have to confess that for most of my adult life I've considered New Year's to be a vastly over-rated event.  It always seemed to be something of an afterthought to the more involved and elaborate Christmas holiday.  And the cynic in me liked to note that after the 'big countdown' was done, the next morning would dawn and life would basically be exactly the same, with perhaps a nasty hangover to cope with as a negative kick-off to a new year. But there is something important to it, which perhaps explains its enduring appeal.  It's a marker ... a chance to stop and reflect...to acknowledge what has come before and take stock of where our lives are at.  A chance to evaluate where we've been and vow to do better going forward.  A chance to simply celebrate our abundant yet often unappreciated riches.  And if not for this particular (and arbitrary) flip of a calendar would we