The Power of “Why?”

On a few occasions, other, in my opinion much more accomplished, artists had asked me what I thought about their work and practice and, or what they can change/ improve. In no way do I feel qualified to give advise on art itself - or their approach, as it is so personal. We all have our preferences of styles, deliveries, even content, purpose, messaging and so on.

So, in order for any artist to take a deeper look into their own work and practice, I ask them to reflect why they create? … Which turns out to be a harder question than many would appreciate…

The responses usually begin with reasoning that is to do with having the time, always wanting to try art, watching the “Joy of Painting” show over the years, and so on. Upon deeper reflection, artists usually rethink their reasoning, as simply “having the time” to create does not necessarily result in creating. The said time could be filled with any other activity. And, yet, here they are, creating and putting themselves out there, for the rest of us to see, facing anything from viewer indifference to criticisms, to backlash, etc. That is no small feat… So, why art? And, even more curiously, why this art?

My own story of painting, and especially, my style and content are steeped in the “why? “…

IN PICTURES: Shots from my various expeditions on foot and paddle board.

I believe, our content finds us if we allow it. Painting came to me during a time of big changes in my life, but I started dabbling in landscapes. I have actually never attended a painting class, but watched a handful of colour theory tutorial videos on YouTube. Given my very limited time and opportunity to practice painting, it took some time and the right tools to feel more confident in my art skills. I began taking photos of interesting moments to later serve as references, and water was becoming an ever-prominent character.

But then came the storms…. A fateful dog walking date with a friend, as we marveled at the remnants of the massive cyclone of late 2021 in Cordova Bay, sparked excitement - and subsequently put my art practice on the map. At the time I did not understand the impact of my emotions, not could I explain my excitement at the weather most visitors steer away from. During routine-driven life of full-time work, studies, caregiving, many daily challenges, and the ever-present worry, you rarely get to stop to smell the roses (or the ocean air, in my case). Yet, in the wee hours of several mornings, I reimagined my reference photos onto canvas, and dubbed them #BCStorm. Those early pieces sold in a heartbeat at local art walks and my first gallery.

Later that winter I stumbled onto another storm randomly visiting that same beach. This time I could not contain my jubilation, and allowed myself to get soaked by rain and splashes. Unexplainably, I felt like dancing, my somberness and grief lifted, even if for that short time watching the raging seas. Fast forward to months ahead, I had several other episodes of similar relief from my emotional burdens during storm-watch. Since that evening storms became my emotional outlet and connection. I was hooked. My art evolved, so did my approaches, my tools and my emotional investment. I feel what I paint, and I hope that is reflected in my work.

My “why?” is grounded in my emotional and mental wellbeing, and perhaps in time my content will take a different direction - but for now, the storms are my calling, as in my current world, when I see one, I am completely overjoyed.

Reflect to your “why?” and perhaps it will guide you towards your calling as well.