What Remains,
Oil on canvas 36”x36”x2.”
In my work with environmental conservation, I am often confronted with change—the shifting of glaciers, the remnants of forest fires, and the erosion of the earth. What Remains is a meditation on the enduring strength of the land. It asks the question: When everything else is stripped away, what is the core essence that survives?
This piece utilizes an aggressive, layered technique where I carve into the oil paint with my palette knives. By building up layers and then stripping them back, I mimic the natural process of weathering. Over the seasons, I took this painting with me and painted where the mood struck right. Sometimes out in the open field, other times on the shores of the lakes around mountains and sometimes even in my backyard in the cozy company of the BBQ as I thought about life, death, and its drifts. The earthy blues and deep greys represent the raw, honest palette of a feeling, an Albertan landscape that has been tested by time and yet remains standing.
What Remains is a testament to resilience—both the earth’s and our own. It serves as a grounding focal point for any space, reminding us that even in seasons of loss or transition, our foundation remains unbreakable.
The clarity I found at the edge was epic and thrilling.
It didn't matter what season we were in anymore; the blue sky was prettier than ceiling lights.
When the snow heeps inspired the colours in the painting.
In the studio, I found my self working on multiple works, everything but this painting for long periods of time. I wrote poems, made porcelain flowers, painted stacks of drift woods, read old vintage books from my partners library on philosophies and ways of the world. The painting stood still for months. As seasons changed I added more layers and then scrapped away more. During an art workshop I was offering in the David Thompson backcountry I finally understood the meaning of what it means to know when a painting is finished. Its never really finished, just abandoned till the mood strikes again.
Poetry and sculptures I made while thinking about this painting and other things relevant.
A photoshopped digital of a sculpture of a carnation I made out of porcelain.
Studies of driftwoods
Books from my partner's library. He is a passionate collector of vintage books.
In progress shot. The mountains initially in this scene didn't feel stable or comforting, and I craved an open feeling. This was unusual because I find mountains very comforting usually.
This was an art workshop I offered at the top of the mountain, where kids and families came up to camp and enjoy a weekend of culture and art activities organized by a few organizations around Alberta. This picture became the breath of the painting.
I paint with palette knives. Here is a picture of some of the smaller ones.
As I opened the space, I really enjoyed doing that in my backyard. It felt so welcoming as I painted this and felt grounded.
The day I completed the painting in the comfort of my backyard, with the backdrop view of my sunflowers.
April 9, 2026: Galerie CAVA
This journey culminates in my solo exhibition at Galerie CAVA. The show will feature 10-12 major works alongside a central, tactile installation—a sculptural piece designed to pull the viewer out of their daily distractions and into a state of natural presence.
“This show is a testament to the belief that living with passion is not a luxury, but a necessity for the soul.”