text: So, with the intention of getting some practice before tonight I set out in search of a suitable venue. From the heart of Montréal many streets heading north end up in Parc du Mont Royal. Coming out of the hotel, I turned north. The west side of the street felt cool. Sunlight washed the myriad of façade on the east side, inviting. Succumbing to the invitation, I took off my coat and tied it around my waist. The warmth felt good on my skin. Vitamin D.
  Avenue du Musée appeared permanently closed as the brightly coloured plastic tabs swirled in entrancing coordination around larger flower pots and objects of interest. I marveled at the precision of pattern. White and blue melded into yellows and reds, lovely in the dance. To the left various sculptures graced the lawn. Bronze, stainless steel, aluminum and paint vied for attention against the backdrop of ancient stone buildings supporting new green foliage. I lingered a while.
  Entering a cul-de-sac, a daunting flight of stairs rose in the distance. Granite steps climbed endlessly up. Nevertheless I moved forward. Standing at the bottom would not get me to the top. Stopping to catch my breath I gazed around, looking for the shapes I most enjoy. Sunlight played patchwork on the stone blocks. Solid black railings cut forms in the green beyond. A few photos later the climb began again.
  Not knowing where the entrance to the park lay, I listened to my guide. As a result I turned to the right onto Avenue des Pins. Catching glimpses of perpetual construction in the distance I stopped to admire the iron spiral fire escapes amid the determined life springing up between brick walls. A few more photos and onward, upward toward the larger trees and the ever-growing green space. So I crossed the street.
  A lovely stone guard rail hugged the edge of the road. In the middle of the curve a small break in the stonework beckoned to wilder places. I stepped inside. The warmer sun delayed my departure from the dappled cool, too hot now. Again, I turned right descending the pathway into the unknown seeking the spot where I could create my next en plein air.
  My need for the familiar reminded me of the reason why I found it difficult to see. Since everything was new, different and exciting, I found it unpaintable. The search continued. Finally it ended with the soothing sound of running water.
  Water and I are friends. Hence this was the place. Sitting in the shade at the side of the road I took out my pen and allowed the image to form. The tamed stream flowed from a culvert and disappeared into a grate. The carefully designed bed in between hinted at natural forms. The stream and I could live with the imperfection. Eventually the water would carve its own design. My en plein air sketch took form. Satisfied I headed back for lunch. Being outside had rejuvenated me. Life is so good.
  Crazy! The Make Music Edmonton Festival asked me to be part of the happening tonight. I will be doing another en plein air, capturing the action outside in the park on the corner of 108 Ave and 124 St Edmonton. It all starts at 5pm. Do drop in!
  “The history of almost every religion begins with one massive misperception, making a fatal distinction between the sacred and the profane.” Richard Rohr, Daily Meditations, June 1, 2017
  These two sentences open my artist’s statement for my solo show “Sacred” now exhibiting in the VASA Gallery (25 Sir Winston Churchill Ave, St. Albert). Indeed, everything is sacred. This should have been fundamental teaching from all Christian churches. Instead, we have followed the normal route of dividing, naming and excluding. I wish to heal this by creating thin places.
  In our propensity for negative thinking we have taken the Jewish scripture along with the words of Jesus and his apostles and twisted them to our own liking. Instead of beginning with Genesis 1 we went to Genesis 3, installing a foundation of “original sin” instead of “original blessing” thus reducing the possibility of discovering thin places.
  In the beginning, everything “was good”, indeed, “very good”. How did we miss that? Taken to the extreme there are pockets of faith which still exclude any kind of joyous celebration and frown upon those who dance, drink or play cards. Laughter is a no-no. The conclusion is life must be miserable to attain heaven, as if we could earn it, a place far away and only accessible after death. Whereas in reality, thin places make heaven accessible everywhere.
  What if everything were holy? What if everything belongs? If we could depart from our stance of being right and begin to include other possibilities, we might begin to find a richer life and the chance to build heaven on earth, here and now. By accepting another truth without losing our own we open the door to a third way, a new discovery, a thin place.
  So instead of focusing on the cross, we could relook at the incarnation. God became man and again declared the created world along with all it contains as holy. By becoming human God blessed his creation with salvation. This new point of view turns the atonement theory upside down. The cross becomes an example of how to deal with evil: non-violent, non-resistant integrity.
  And how does my work fit into this redemptive love? Each piece is an invitation to pause. My intent is to create “thin places” where the divine meets the mundane. By contemplating the goodness of natural settings filled with the Holy Spirit we can allow ourselves to open and enter the flow. Life is good. All is sacred.
  Molding paste is the foundation of all my mixed media work. It forms the first layer on the gessoed canvas. I throw a lot of paint around. This layer begins in the same way.