An introduction to The Keeper

2025 has been a reflection year for me so far. I’ve slowed down and created less paintings, but pieces I am really falling in love with. Since covid and the 2020 shutdown when I lost my job, so much of my focus had been on figuring out WHAT I wanted to paint and what I’m trying to say. As great as it is to focus on those things, though, I can’t help but think it might have been easier to calm down a little bit and just focus on making things that I like.

If you’ve been following my work for a while, you probably already know I’ve dabbled in still life, sunsets and cloud paintings, vibrant portraits and mythical-inspired art nouveau figures. I love the work I’ve made and the progress that’s come with it, but I’ve been working on something that feels like a really great direction.

In June 2025, I will have my first ever solo exhibition through the Langley Arts Council, and another one in New Westminster the following January. It is a super exciting next step for me, and as I venture into this new territory, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. As I said, it’s a reflection year for me and so far its brought me to a place where I am looking to the past a lot and thinking about all of the things that make me me. Despite my wedding in 2024, it was a rough year. I lost a family member that was very close to me in a way that feels very unresolved, and I also lost my beloved dog a few months later, and these losses brought a lot of other feels to the surface. It’s hard to know how to celebrate a new chapter in life amid all of that.

This probably seems very unrelated, but I promise it’s going somewhere.

I am working on a new painting series that explores a lot of these things, and its acted as a sort of therapy for me so far, and I hope to continue that. The first painting in this series, The Keeper No, 1, came about first in the summer when I was sketching ideas for a poster contest for the Richmond Maritime Festival. I had a lot of ideas, and they all contained a lot of fish, sprinkled around sort of like flower petals in the paintings. I liked it a lot, but when I submitted my ideas, I was told I missed the deadline. I swear it was on time, but it is what it is.

Anyway, the painting ideas sat around for a few months, until January when I was finding it hard to care anymore about the mythology painting ideas I had scribbled about only a few months earlier. I love mythology and storytelling, but I felt so disconnected to these ideas. Maybe because they’re not my stories, or maybe because they exist with or without my input. It seemed irrelevant.

I grabbed one of the sketches I had done for the previous poster contest and whipped out some paper I used only once for a past painting, determined to give it another chance and see if I liked the paper. I think the key here was that I assumed I would throw out the painting afterwards, or at the very least it would never see the outside world.

I showed you some of the progress pictures for this, and if you remember the “booger-like” substance I had on there was also part of the experiment because previously I had ruined a painting by using masking fluid on a paper that couldn’t handle the pressure. So I was giving it a shot. The progress pictures of that painting weren’t too impressive, so you can imagine my own feelings of doubt during the process. BUT if you remember, it was a throwaway! So I didn’t concern myself.

Fast forward a few weeks: it’s now one of my most favourite pieces and after a deep dive into the imagery and how I felt while painting it, it’s become the first in my new series about The Keeper. So let me tell you a bit about her:

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the parts of ourselves that we keep hidden; the words we never say, the memories we tuck away, the things we grieve quietly, without even realizing it.

And that’s where The Keeper came from.

She’s not just a character. She’s a symbol for something I think we all carry inside us. A hidden self that takes on a lot of what we don’t feel like dealing with day-to-day. She is the part of us that gently holds our dreams, our sadnesses, our joy and grief and softness, all at once. She’s the guardian of the things we aren’t ready to say yet. The feelings we don’t always have language for.

The Keeper watches over them, keeps them safe, makes sure their light doesn’t go out—until we’re ready to let them out or let them go.

I think we all need a keeper. And maybe, at some level, we already have one.

I didn’t set out to create her. She sort of appeared on her own—quietly, steadily—through sketches and stories that I kept coming back to. In some ways, she feels like the part of me I return to when I don’t have words for what I’m feeling.

She reminds me that even the quietest things matter. That being tender is a kind of strength.

WHY YOU SHOULDN'T BUY ART

Why shouldn't you buy art?

I know this might seem like a counterproductive topic to hear about FROM an artist, but stay with me for a minute.

I spent a lot of time in art school reading about famous art. My favourite was the Rococo period, with gilded frames, bright colours, and a general over-the-top look to everything. I'll admit, it still has some influence on my decorating style now too.

I remember looking at the stories about artists from history whose work had been "found" or new pieces discovered that they hadn't known existed, and then how much they would sell for at auctions. I remember the stories of living artists making a spectacle with their work, or filling auctions with fake buyers to help increase the bids on their pieces. And I remember thinking it was probably a long shot if I wanted to be a professional artist. I'd either have to compromise my morals, or wait until I was dead to see any kind of financial action, which, for obvious reasons, wasn't a good option.

If the art world has shown us anything, investing in art is a really bad idea. For the most part, those stories of thrift store paintings being discovered and sold for thousands are few and far between, and with most of the population choosing art for its low price point and colour scheme (to match the couch, of course), we know that there are a lot of arbitrary reasons for artwork to be "worth" a lot.

So if art has no intrinsic value and can't keep up with your ever-changing colour scheme, why buy art at all?

Ultimately, you SHOULD buy art. It's just that you should buy it for different reasons than financial investment or being generally kind of showy.

Being able to surround yourself with artwork you have truly and fully fallen in love with is a luxury. You are gifting yourself the pleasure of living with art that you find great. It doesn't have to be expensive and it doesn't have to be famous.

As an artist and art enthusiast, I must tell you ordinary people like us play a crucial role in the future of art. With AI taking over and it becoming increasingly difficult to tell the difference between artwork create by humans or AI, it is us who decide which artists will continue with their creative path and have the support they need to grow. Collectors play a crucial role in preserving art for the future and therefore influence the way the history of art is written. This shouldn't be in the hands of the rich and famous, because we already know they can't be trusted with such responsibilities!

If you've never purchased a piece of original art before, I hope that you experience what Thomas Hoving was talking about. And if you have experienced it but you DIDN'T buy it, you should probably get to it before someone else does, and don't worry if it doesn't match your colour scheme. Walls can be painted by pretty much anyone. 😉

SPACES & PLACES: EXPLORING THE SYMBIOSIS BETWEEN ARTIST AND ENVIRONMENT

The spaces we live and work in have a social and symbolic dimension to them that exists beyond the material space and as an artist, these dimensions have a huge impact on my ability to live and work in certain spaces.

I've always admired the artists who can sit down in a buzzing coffee shop and whip out a set of travel watercolours and spend the next 3 hours creating a decent masterpiece under the watchful eyes of the baristas and other patrons.

I moved into my condo 8 years ago, and I still remember the gruelling process of shopping for the perfect place. On one hand, the excitement of finding my future home was overwhelming, but on the other hand every time I entered a condo that was seriously missing that special feeling I was looking for, it felt one step closer to hopeless. Even worse was when each time I felt I'd found the perfect space, someone else had got there just a little bit sooner.

I know that in actuality, a home is what you make it, but I also believe that the history and the past human interaction in a space influences its immaterial qualities. For me, a buzzing coffee shop is a great place for a chat with a friend, but to be in a creative mindset surrounded by others just keeps me distracted and focused on the wrong parts of my art-making process and busies me with worrying about what people are thinking. Sure, one could argue thats a me-problem, but you have to work with what you have, right?

This painting I created during a bout of artist block, sketching some new ideas and exploring abstract elements with my portraits. While there isn't a story or a reasoning behind the figure or her apparent mood, I do think there is room for you to find meaning in it yourself.

In the past few weeks I've been on a bit of a journey to uncover more about my story as an artist and what is important to me, and I've discovered that space and the places we find refuge in are really important in my work. When I paint, I pay a lot of attention to the abstract spaces my figures are situated in, and I want the dreamy aspect of their reality to come through for you as my viewer. I know that sometimes the environments don't make sense or there are parts of the picture that seem really strange, but much like the places we find ourselves in in real life, there is often so much that is unexplainable or intangible.

As a child, I remember watching this particular movie a few times (my brother loved it and he tended to be a re-watcher of the things he loved) called "Wild America." I absolutely hated this movie for one reason only. I hated the feeling it gave me when the boys in the story were lost in the middle of nowhere for a super long time. It always made me feel uncomfortable and longing for the characters to just get home safe. Looking back, it kind of makes sense because I am a homebody and I often only say yes to plans that are far away from home if I know I get to go home at the end of the day. But this brings me back to that idea of finding comfort in the spaces that are our refuge.

For me, this means filling my own spaces with paintings that I love, whether they're my own or ones I've collected from other artists. I am hanging some new works in the next few weeks, so once I get that done I will share with you what my space looks like (it is pretty kooky so get ready)!

If you also feel this intense connection to your spaces, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! In the meantime, please check out my shop for artwork to decorate YOUR special spaces!

SHOP