Art Conversations



Failure is a gift from the gods. Why can I say that?  Take a moment and look back at the times in your life that have crushed you, where you have stumbled and felt the world was about to end… the truth is that it didn’t.  PTSD teaches us that a mistake is game over, failure is an end game scenario, whether in relationships, work, ambition, sport, parenting, the list is endless. PTSD is not your friend. Nor are you if you allow yourself to go there.  To buy into that ‘end game scenario’ when you make a mistake, when you are rejected or feel that you have failed.  Failure often times is the best thing that can happen to us, if we accept it and do not fight it, but instead look at it as an opportunity.  Picasso, god rest his naughty soul, said that there are no mistakes…

Work in Progress: to complement AWESOME

Working on a new painting to complement AWESOME – this time of West View from Tsawwassen.  It’s not a view I’m overly familiar with and the ferry terminal keeps getting into my way.  I don’t like the noise it creates in my head.  It’s hard to walk through the valleys with a giant white mechanical beast constantly inserting itself in the view.  I feel like an orca caught in its engine noise.

Thelwell: celebrating child riders and their ponies

Who doesn’t love Thelwell?  Running my eye through his books is like my mind through a fun filled bruise encrusted piece of my childhood. Being the poor African cousin living in rural Ireland in the 80’s had its advantages.  Firstly, there was always the sympathetic cousin who had a horse to lend for hunting, jumping, pony camp. Secondly, said horsie was generally rather a nice horsie with knees that reached above my head, a back that stretched from one of my kiddie ankles to the other and a mouth as gentle as a newborn babies.  I’d sit on top of these giant beauties and pretty much giggle my way through the day.  With such a fly on their backs they could leap great ditches, fences and jumps. It didn’t always go well for my friends following behind on their solid, stocky little ponies.  As I leaned over the bank to…