Rick Janson Art Studio

Looking at rich people’s stuff

November 14, 2025

When we first arrived at Glasgow’s Burrell Collection we got offered a tour before even taking stock of where we were. Given the somewhat disorientating layout of the building, it turned out to be a good idea, although I was somewhat distracted at the time by the medieval players off in one corner of the lobby (see photo above). The guide began by emphasizing that this was a “collection,” and not a traditional gallery or museum, per se. It reflects the collecting habits of one person, albeit one very rich person. Like many of these “collections,” it tends to be a bit quirky despite little doubt that Burrell would have received the advice of curators and gallerists in putting together this pile. The “Souvenir Guide” states that Burrell had developed an interest in art as a child: “He used his wealth to steadily build his collection, quickly surpassing his local contemporaries in terms of the quantity and quality of his artworks and firmly established an international reputation as a collector of good taste and judgment.” The initial donation in 1944 included 6,000 items.

Sir William Burrell made his money from the shipping business, of which another Glasgow institution — the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum — reminds us that much of that wealth derived from not treating his ship crews very well. That seemed less of an issue than some of the other great benefactors of art and culture in the city, some of whom were directly involved in the business of slavery. According to his Wiki biography, much of Burrell’s wealth came from selling his ships during World War I for much more than what he had paid for them. In other words, he became very rich by becoming a war profiteer.

But I suppose its water under the bridge — it is the public that now has his stuff.

Today the collection is administered by the City of Glasgow, and as such, is free to visit. There is no admission charge, like many of the public galleries in Scotland.

The collection is an odd assortment of art and artifacts. Burrell loved Edgar Degas’ work and collected a lot of it. Unfortunately for us, they had just featured a Degas retrospective so many of those paintings were now off display. The rooms of painting also including works by Cezanne, Manet, Monet, Sisley, Whistler, Fantin-Latour, Gauguin, Boudin as well as then-contemporary work by the Glasgow Boys, including S.J. Peploe, George Henry and John Lavery. Then there were more historic pieces, including a Rembrandt self portrait, as well as more minor works by Courbet, Hogarth, and Hals. Almost every art gallery and museum has much more in its collection that it can reasonably display, so its no surprise that the building housing the Burrell Collection also makes sure to hold back some of that collection for rotation and also for restoration and maintenance. It makes a show of it in the lower level, a film about the collection giving way to a view of the storerooms by the end.

The collection is a bit of this and that, from the medieval armour and weaponry to furnishings, stained glass, carpets, ceramics and tapestries going back to antiquity. Our guide showed us a portal taken from Hornby Castle in Yorkshire, noting that Burrell had got it at a bargain from the collection of William Randolph Hearst. This massive stone portal has been to America and back. We also got a look at a headboard that once belonged to Anne Boleyn — a rarity given Henry VIII destroyed many of her belongings after her execution. Perhaps it was retained because it included a carving of Henry on the left side with a rather noticeable codpiece.

Corner of a headboard that once belonged to Ann Boleyn. On the left side is a carving of Henry VIII.

But that is the ultimate problem with these “collections” — once the benefactor has passed, they mostly become static collections, or at the very least, collections limited to their “vision.” Depending on the conditions set by the benefactor, that means lesser works or works that haven’t passed the test of time can remain in the collection. However, we did notice that there have been some new acquisitions since Burrell passed away, including the Warwick Vase, estimated to have been originally made in Italy in the 2nd Century CE. The Burrell hadn’t acquired it until 1979 (more than two decades after Burrell’s death), although it does seem to still fit within Burrell’s vision for the collection. The building didn’t open to the public until 1983, the construction supported by significant public money.

It does, of course, raise the issue of who decides what art has value to a society? Is it the ultra-wealthy who call the shots, or can this be mediated by other players, including artists, gallerists, academics, and curators. Where does the public come in, especially in an environment where art education has been in decline?

These collections sometimes feel like cultural tombs. And unlike many contemporary cultural institutions, it is not in a position to easily address changes in public sentiment, such as the addition of works by women or people of colour.

One of the gallery rooms at the Burrell Collection.

The day we chose to visit turned out to be a good one. There were a lot of people present. There were actors sword fighting as well as musicians in medieval dress playing to a group of dancers. There appeared to be a lot of docents giving tours. It did present challenges in the cafeteria, where one must find a table first, then go to a counter to order your meal, give them your table number, then return to have it delivered. It means both of you have to figure out what you want, find a table, then have the other order and pay for the food. For two people it worked out, but it would be confounding if you were visiting the collection alone.

On the walk to the Burrell through the beautiful Pollak Park, we spoke to an American woman from Chicago who lamented what was happening in her country. Of Hispanic descent, she was worried for her family amid the ICE raids. She also noted the growing intolerance here in the UK, especially with the rise of Nigel Farage. These are frightening times.

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Thinking about this idea of who curates what we get to see, I experienced a bit of that while out shopping yesterday. When I was in the UK I saw that David Byrne (of Talking Heads fame) had a new LP out. I didn’t want to drag it back from Britain, instead preferring to buy it locally after I returned.

When I visited the mall yesterday I stopped by a good-sized record store tucked into the far end of the building. They didn’t have it. In fact, they didn’t have much in the way of new releases at all. What made it harder was that it was difficult to distinguish the new from the overwhelming number of reissues of older material that they chose to highlight on their shelves. I checked for some other new titles I was interested in. None of them were there. But you could get a reissue of Who Are You, an album I bought when I was in my early twenties. There were a lot of copies.

I found that disturbing, especially having once worked in the record retail industry in the 1970s. Back then all the new stuff was highlighted at the front of the store. There was a lot of it. Magazines like Uncut and Mojo have pages of new material every month. Problem is, you won’t find much of it in a local record store. In the end, and with much reluctance, I ordered it on-line.
Inspiration and intimidation

November 12, 2025

Recently I found a copy of Kate Bryan’s new book “How To Art” while in Waterstone’s in Glasgow. It turns out, the signed copy also had an extra chapter on Banksy that was exclusive to the UK chain store. What surprised me about the book is both how accessible it was and the wide audience it intended to address, including everything from how to introduce your children to art to how artists themselves can find inspiration, particularly when stuck.

For those who are unfamiliar with Bryan, she is one of the three judges on Sky Arts Artist of the Year series, including both Landscape Artist of the Year and Portrait Artist of the Year. In the show she is billed as an art historian, but in reality she has worked in both and private and public sphere within the art world. On the dust jacket its says that since 2016 she has been curator of SOHO House’s art collection, which has about 10,000 artworks, none of them mine.

It so happened that one of my intentions of being in Scotland — aside from utilizing a flat my sister had generously offered to us for the duration — was to recharge my art activities. I find travel opens up news ways of seeing for me, especially when it involves visiting galleries and museums, or in at least one instance, a specific curated collection. More on that in coming posts.

While I’m not stuck, per se, I was very interested in Bryan’s views on inspiration. She notes that some artists may visit their favorite art gallery to recharge, but that it may compound one’s frustration in some cases. She notes UK artist Charming Baker, who she says once told her that “he feels physically sick if he sees a work by an Old Master while he is struggling with his own painting.”

I fit somewhere in between. I find visiting galleries wets my appetites to get back into my studio, but it is also intimidating and cuts to one’s confidence when faced with a masterpiece. Making art is a trick of confidence, for sure. When a work of art knocks me off my feet, my initial reaction is to try and figure out why. Then I cry that I’ll never be that good. Usually in that order.

The National Gallery of Scotland is in fact dispersed throughout a number of locations. This seems to be a thing in Britain — big names like the Tate and the V&A have spread throughout the country. In Edinburgh alone, there is the main location close to Waverly Station, then there is the National Portrait Gallery up the hill, and if you head into Edinburgh’s new town, there are two modern galleries that also belong to the National.

On this trip we did make it back to the National Portrait Gallery (we had last been there in 2022), if only to look at the new work in the contemporary portrait galleries, including recent winners of the Portrait Artist of the Year competitions. I think the National has figured out that these portraits do draw in a certain audience. Then we walked down the hill to get to the main location, which houses an ample cross-section of Scottish art on the lower level, and a generous survey of international historical work on the upper floors, including such diverse icons as Tintoretto, Titian, Rembrandt, Rubens, Botticelli, Velazquez, Goya, and Van Dyck, to name a few. For a country of about six million people, it really has an impressive collection.

It was on the upper floors we turned a corner and were confronted with a painting I had long admired in books but never seen in person — John Singer Sargent’s 1892 portrait of Gertrude Vernon, Lady Agnew of Lochnaw. Her direct stare froze us in our tracks. Singer Sargent has this way of creating incredible presence in his work yet often maintains deceptively loose brush work. You feel confronted by the image first, the paint secondarily there to remind you of the magic that the artist has rendered.

Gertrude Vernon, Lady Agnew of Lochnaw (1892) by John Singer Sargent. Collection of the National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh.

This portrait for Singer Sargent was his comeback, the one that made him acceptable to society after the scandal his painting of Madame X created while exhibited at the Paris Salon. Wiki describes Madame X quite well: “Sargent shows a woman posing in a black satin dress with jewel straps, a dress that reveals and hides at the same time.” Critics found it to be vulgar and oversexual. Curiously, Madame X was not a commission, but rather a painting Singer Sargent chose to do.

While I had seen Gertrude Vernon’s portrait in reproduction many times before, it was a very different experience seeing it in person. While the trappings are very much of the time, it still feels very current, as if she sat there waiting for you to enter the gallery. In a room full of impressionist paintings, it was remarkable in-so-much as it overwhelmingly commanded attention over such crowd-pleasing competition from the normally more popular French Masters.

It also strikes me both how formal and how casual the piece is. The sitter looks relaxed, her legs crossed and her body reposed to one side of the chair, revealing the magnificently painted fabric. While Madame X was considered overtly sexual, this painting was described instead as beguiling.

It led to a flood of commissions for Singer Sargent, or what fellow artist Walter Sickert described as “Sargentology.”

Clearly Singer Sargent brought a lot of skill to this work, in both the composition, the tone, the colour and the paint handling. But I later wondered how much this was a collaborative work? Without such a sitter, considered a beauty in her time, would society have fallen over itself in the same way? How much of her pose was Sargent, and how much was her own? The pose can determine much about the personality of the sitter. And let’s not forget that direct hypnotic gaze.

The gallery’s catalogue notes that the cost of sustaining her “celebrity with style” led Vernon to sell the painting in 1925 to the National Gallery of Scotland, where it remains a hundred years later. It’s sad she couldn’t keep it.

The gallery has hung the portrait high, making it difficult to fully see given the lighting reflecting off the varnish. Visiting the other salons in the gallery, its obvious they have hung the works according to the period in which they emerged — often stacked up to the ceiling rather than the more modern approach of hanging everything at eye level.

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I’m back from my travels, and it seems overwhelming the list of art activities on the agenda. My neighbour kindly took over a painting of mine to a nearby gallery for entry to a juried show in December. They’ll make a decision whether I’m in or out by November 17th. Meanwhile, while I was in Scotland I learned that I have been accepted as a guest artist in the Scugog Studio tour at the beginning of May. There is also a third opportunity in Toronto for another juried show in January based on the colour pink. The deadline is December 7th for entry. That’s not much time to pull a piece together, especially while recovering from jet lag.

I briefly went into my studio yesterday to drop off a new pallette — the last one looking like one of those grade school topographic maps with the protruding mountains. I was recently in a local gallery that was selling used paint-covered artist pallettes,. I now wonder if I should be just chucking these out or whether to wait and see if there is any interest? The gallery owner told me that people buy them and hang them on the wall next to their collection. Really? How odd.

Being in the studio I reminded myself of the work that I just got started on before heading to Scotland on October 2nd. That’s quite a gap. As those who know me already understand, I usually work on four and sometimes five paintings at a time, rotating them daily, sometimes having two canvases on the easel in the same day. With a short deadline for the pink painting, it may take priority, although I am eager to get stuck in.

More to say about my art experiences in Scotland in the coming posts.

Meanwhile, if you want to peruse my most recent work, click here.
Off To Seek New Vistas

September 30, 2025
My focus has always been on our (human) interaction with the world, and lately, I see stories emerging with each painting. I’m coming to see that the landscape is not just out there, that we are very much part of that landscape. Even the one I just started today… which is actually about cows. Albeit French cows.

I started this BLOG mid-July to have a presence on the web. It seemed every application for a competition or show required one. But I didn’t just want to put up something static where viewers come and never return. I wanted it to be more dynamic than that.

I also wanted to use it as an opportunity to put in words the journey, path (whatever new age word you want to use here) that I’m now on. When I graduated from art school in 1987 I didn’t know how to make a living as an artist. I ended up getting a job, then another, and another. Thirty-eight years later I still don’t know how artists do it. It turns out that in Canada, only a little over six per cent of artists actually make a living from their work. Six per cent! I’ve figured out how to make my ends meet, and its not from art, although some weeks you just wish it would kick in a little bit into the kitty. Materials, gallery fees, art memberships, framing, studio maintenance… it all adds up.

I have to say I’m rubbish at inventing anything from scratch. The time I spent working for various media has oriented me towards documenting what I see and finding ways of sharing it. Many artists are in that camp. We just figure if something interests us, it is bound to interest others too, especially if we observe it well or find a new angle on it that others hadn’t given much thought to.

Over the next number of weeks it is time to have some new experiences to convert to future canvases. That means travelling, in this case, to Scotland and (hopefully) Northern England. Friends have urged us to add other nearby destinations to that list, but, um, one at a time. See above about making ends meet.

I don’t even own a laptop to take with me, and trying to do a BLOG from a phone or a tablet seems a little too onerous, so I’m taking a short break, dear readers. When I come back, there will be plenty of fresh stories from our travels and new canvases to post and lots of general chatter about visual art. Hopefully there will be further news on where you can see my work in person assuming I can run the gauntlet of the art world gatekeepers.

If you are a regular reader (and there are not a lot of you), I would suggest subscribing if you haven’t already. That way, when I do get back and start to share again, you’ll get notification. Beats coming back to the same old site. “Oh, Rick’s still away.” “He’s still gone?” “When is he getting back?” “Sheesh, nothing new yet.” You get the idea.

And if you do like it, please share. Building an audience is not easy.

Meanwhile, for those who are relatively new, I thought I would share some information regarding how the BLOG has gone so far. Its my two and a half month report. Almost a quarter in business speak. The average viewer of my BLOG sticks around to look at 2.18 posts, so I couldn’t be totally boring you. This post is the 48th since I started mid-July. I posted a little less in September, but that was always the plan. Start with guns blazing, then stream off to a regular flow.

Overwhelmingly my viewers are from Canada, the US second, and surprisingly, Ireland third. I don’t know anybody in Ireland, at least I don’t think I do. I think we will have to eventually add it to our travels. Readers from the UK are next, and then the Nordic countries — there are a notable presence of readers from Sweden and Norway. Given I do a lot of paintings of France (I love France) its not suprising that I’m getting a presence there too.

Most of my referrals still come from Facebook (I wish people would move on to happier and more responsible social media), then the WordPress Reader, then Blue Sky Social, which is disappointing. Do progressive people not like art? Or maybe they just don’t like my art? Or maybe they are all consumed by stories about Trump. I don’t know. I offer a zone that is thankfully Trump-free, except for this bit.

What are your favorite posts? According to WordPress, here’s the top five with links to each:
Here are five others that I think warrant some merit. Unloved, but maybe they should be:
And if you are more of picture person than a picture and words person (which means you probably haven’t got this far) you can just browse my more recent work (2024-25) by clicking here. I always update there first.

You can also follow me on Blue Sky Social, where I will likely be posting from abroad if you still want to stay in touch. My handle is @rickjanson.bsky.social

I’ll give the BLOG a good ol’ think when I’m away too. I have some ideas that are already percolating. And if you have any ideas too, send them to me. My contact info is somewhere on this page depending on how you view this — laptop, desktop, phone, tablet…

See you soon!
Sausage Fingers

September 29, 2025

Before I leave for the UK on Wednesday, I’m hoping to provide an interim report on the BLOG after a little less than two months. Sneak preview: Your favorite posts so far have to do with portraiture — mostly my portrait.

As I have previously stated, I’m in the midst of a development project towards what I hope will be a formal self-portrait some time early in 2026. Along the way I am doing a series of studies to familiarize myself with the surfaces of my face, from my childhood chin scar to my receding hairline. Not sure how many it will take before I feel brave enough to go for it.

In this study my intention was to go for something that revealed a little more of my body, hoping to utilize how I stand as means of recognition. I think most artists recognize that a portrait is more than just a head and shoulders, that we reveal something about ourselves through our entire body. If it looks different from the previous two, it may have something to do with the new Tom Ford glasses. Hope you like ’em. I also spent almost as much time on the head as I did the hand, which gave me a lot of trouble before landing with something vaguely life-like. It no longer looks like a bunch of sausages. Phew!

Once I have completed this process, I’m hoping to open my easel to portrait commissions should anybody be brave enough to undergo such a process. I’m not expecting a big rush, especially in a bad economy. To do a portrait properly does take considerable time. It’s not like I take a snapshot then go away for a month. It’s more than that.

A few days ago I posted about how I had mistaken the theme of a group show after creating a piece specifically for it over the last month or so. This painting is the replacement. With a theme of Rare Forms, it plays on the title with the phrase he or she is in “rare form” tonight. There is also something a bit cheeky about the attitude in the painting that I think fits within the modernist ethos of the gallery’s theme. The group call is a juried show, so I will be sure to update you on its progress. I’ll know if I’m in or out by November 17th.

Self Portrait Study 3 (2025) 18″ x 24″ Oil on Canvas

Not entirely surprising, I did get news that my application for a solo show in 2026 at a nearby gallery was turned down by the jury. I don’t feel bad about it — at present I was holding back work from other submissions on the basis of the theme I had proposed. I’d still like to work on the theme, but it is unlikely now that I would land a show anywhere until 2027, so there is time. Every gallery is different, as is every jury. There is no time to take it personally. When I get back from my upcoming trip I will start casting around for opportunities in 2026.

I also feel that my work is going through a transition period as I get back up to speed of regular production and apply what I have learned from many years of on-again off-again experience. More time and practice may sharpen what I have in mind. I’m already experimenting with a new painting that involves working from an old black and white photo from 1962. That has been challenging, although I’m hoping it will be a lot of fun too. I’ve been looking for colour references from multiple sources, including a 1:26 scale model car that I have. I’m understanding the colour in the shadows of the car much better from it. Given the meticulous and experimental nature of that painting — the original damaged photo is very small and the painting large (at least for me). I’m not expecting that to be done until December, especially given that upcoming trip to the UK.

Given there will be a gap in my posting — I don’t think I will be doing so from abroad — be sure to subscribe and you’ll receive notification when I’m back in the saddle. Feel free to poke around on the site while I’m gone.

Meanwhile, I noticed in the latest edition of Costco Connection (yeah, my erudite reading material) that there is a story written by Gerald Leonard on how creative people can be a workplace superpower. I could relate to much of what he said (egotist that I am), including letting your creative people problem solve — but also to give us space to be ourselves.

“People with creative backgrounds in the arts can have a major impact on an organization and serve as a huge asset to the workforce because of their ability to successfully operate in uncertainty<‘ Leonard writes. Maybe there is method in the madness of graduating so many artists into a cultural environment that cannot possibly accommodate them all.

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Beyond the Frame

September 27, 2025

When looking at a painting, do you see what’s beyond the canvas? I’ve always liked using references beyond what’s in the frame, from a shadows of nearby trees to, as was in the last post, a light source that suggests another person is nearby. Of course artists frequently crop buildings, objects or sometimes even people to suggest the frame is busting out beyond what’s contained on the canvas.

This new work is somewhat of a departure for me given it presents mutiple viewpoints — the exterior of the cafe, reflections capturing a feel of the street, hints at the interior of the cafe, and if you look very carefully, you can see me — hint: look for my white runners and ballcap.

Each window of the cafe felt like a painting unto itself, initially abstract until you see the broader picture through and reflected on the glass.

The painting is from a photograph I took while in Tournon, France, in 2022. We were cruising up the Rhone River and making various stops. That morning our ship docked in Tournon, although most of the morning was spent touring a nearby vineyard, and shortly after, a chocolate factory (chocolate and wine — what’s not to like?). It was early afternoon by the time we wandered through Tournon, and most of the shops and restaurants were closed for siesta, including Le Dauphin. About the only life were other passengers from our ship also wandering around, that, and a city employer emptying the trash bins from his pint-size camion.

I knew when I saw the cafe and the reflections in the windows that this would be a painting. When I travel there are pictures I take as a tourist, and others I take to work from in my studio. This was definitely one of the latter. While there are no people in the frame (aside from my reflection) one could easily imagine the patrons smoking a cigarette and having a glass of wine on those chairs, sharing stories of their day. Clearly the proprietors were ready, the ash trays already on the tables, the upholstered chairs in place. The scene felt expectant. At a certain time the streets would fill again. But for now — all was quiet.

I acknowledge that this is a very romanticized view of a French town, but as I have stated before, I like the life implied in all these cafes — in fact I started another painting yesterday based on a Parisian cafe in the Marais, risking the twee with a dog being the only patron that seemed to be aware of their surroundings beyond the patrons on their phones (yeah, one of my travel themes).

Le Dauphin (2025) 16″ x 20″ Oil on Canvas

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All ready for… 2023

September 24, 2025

Some artists do not like themed group shows. Some insist that they do what they do and that’s it. They don’t feel that a gallery, nor anybody else, should dictate the content of their art.

I have the opposite view — these themed shows are often an opportunity to leave your comfort zone and try something new. I should point out that most themes are so broad in their interpretation that you could submit just about anything anyway. But I like the challenge. To me the creativity starts by looking at something with fresh eyes.

It is also interesting to see how other artists approach the same theme. How far from their normal view have they strayed?

In the last week or so I have been working on completing a painting that is way outside my normal subject matter to respond to a call for entry. I should have looked at the call for entry a little closer — the deadline was for November 10… of 2023 — it turned out to be a bit of internet flotsam. I guess my new prescription glasses are paying off now that I noticed the year! I’ve asked the gallery for an updated submission form to this year’s theme. Leaving for Scotland October 1st, time is now scarce to create anything new.

At first I did a painting that I thought fit the bill, on the 2023 theme of “Life’s Moods,” but by putting the emphasis on “life” I had a rethink and started to review images that had a more personal take. That led to a second painting.

I ended up with today’s image — a rare painting taken from a photograph sent to us from family about a decade ago. It had all the elements of a story — a child running from one door to another on Hallowe’en, dressed in his favorite super hero costume. Another child dressed as a witch is at the door with her bag open. It brought back a lot of nostalgia for me, vividly remembering the excitement I had as a child, waiting anxiously for the sun to go down so we could knock on the door of all our neighbours and gather as much candy as possible.

Nostalgia (2025) 24″ x 24″ Oil on Canvas

The painting was a challenge given there are three light sources — the porch light, another lantern in the open doorway, and the flash of the camera. The sources of two of those light sources are off the frame, and in the case of the flash, suggest a presence in front of the frame. You know there is a parent standing there.

The three light sources did make it interesting in determining where the shadows fell. Had there not been a flash, the running child would have been a silhouette, and perhaps thrown a deep shadow towards the viewer. Instead it was a competition between the light sources, only a small shadow flowing towards us.

The flash also reinforces the idea that this came from a photo as a source. I have played with the framing and colour, essentially making it into a painting of my own. It is not a portrait. The flash element really brought back the idea of nostalgia, given everyone’s Hallowe’en photos tend to look like this. It feels like a snapshot.

I did wrestle with the idea that this may be seen as kitsch given the lack of subtlety and the over-the-top emotion, but I can’t think of ever seeing a painting like this before, even among all the mass produced Halloween paraphernalia. It still remains personal, which was the original idea.

The fate of the painting is now an open question given it is now all dressed with nowhere to go. Deep sigh. Yay to my new glasses.

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Transitioning the Seasons

September 22, 2025

It is the end of summer. The calendar has barely flipped and yet the leaves have already begun to change, no doubt aided by a long period of very dry weather. We’re in a bit of a frantic period preparing to go abroad to the UK and taking care of all the tasks involved in making sure everything is arranged for our house sitter. I’m also making arrangements regarding picking up work from shows that are ending and delivering work to others that will start after we get back. Outside the pool company is closing us up for the season. My spouse says we should be playing taps. Meanwhile I’m fighting off what I hope is the last days of a cold that has been slowing me down lately.

I always look forward to travel. There is something about being taken out of my normal environment that awakens my interest in capturing new images — conversely, likely why it is so difficult to paint what’s normally around you.

In honour of summer I decided to post an older painting I did from a very short visit to Bayview-Wildwood Resort on Sparrow Lake, near the Muskokas.

I wasn’t there on holiday, but always did like it when I got asked to speak to and with groups in places that just feel like summer in Canada. It beats a downtown Toronto ballroom. I was familiar with the area — having spent summers just to the south in Wasaga Beach. One of my sisters worked at a resort near Bracebridge when I was young, prompting a family trip to check in with her.

On this particular work day, as I was coming out of the main building at Bayview Wildwood, I caught this view of one of the small cabins that were on the site at the time (these cabins may be still there). I liked the way the light was dappling through the trees and the view of the lake beyond. Even the style of the deck in front of the cabin was reminiscent of a different era.

Bayview Wildwood (2011) 14″ x 18″ Oil on Canvas

Given the nature of the view, I wanted to tackle this loosely, having fun with the paint application as I tried to capture the remarkable light through the trees.

This is one of the works I signed on the front of the painting — a practice I have long gotten out of. The consensus now is that it is better to sign the back. It does help get around compositional issues of having writing on a corner of the painting — a distraction. I did try as much as possible to use colours that would blend into the work but still retain some readability. Now I’m happy to not have to contend with the issue, happily signing, dating and titling the piece on the back.

It’s always sad to say goodbye to summer — it is my favorite season. But the autumn has its own character too. It’s this time of year when the changes between the season are dramatic.

This October it will be a very different experience for us abroad. I’m sure I will be posting paintings from the trip later in the year and early into 2026.

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The Rewards of Boredom

September 19, 2025

When I was at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, everyone was aware of US conceptual artist John Baldessari’s work at the college. In 1971, unable to afford to bring Baldessari to Halifax, students from the college worked on an exhibition based on Baldessari’s instructions delivered to them remotely. The idea was simple: during the life of the show students would repeatedly write the sentence “I shall not make any more boring art.” At the end of the show the gallery would add up the number of times the sentence was written out and sent it back to the artist.

The Whitney Museum insists Baldessari was poking fun “at the entire system of art education, which he felt encouraged students to imitate rather than experiment and innovate.”

Ironically, prints were made as a fundraiser for the college, and somewhere in my drawers I have (or had) a t-shirt with Baldessari’s sentence on it.

The irony is, of course, that watching students write the sentence over and over again, such as pennance for doing something wrong, is in itself rather boring.

But can boring art be good art?

A friend sent me a link to post (Aesthetics for Birds) which discusses this issue and offers up an answer: yes.

The essay written by John Gibson and Andreas Elpidorou argues that in more than just a few instances that art can be good precisely because it is boring: “boredom is the pain of emotional and intellectual discontent.”

Curiously most of their examples are of films, such as Andy Warhol’s 8-hour plus Empire, which is a single shot of the Empire State Building shot in slow motion over that period of time. Warhol said he wanted to document time going by.

Where they really build their argument is over Chantal Akerman’s 1975 film Jeanne Dielman 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelle, which documents in tedious detail over three and a half hours the minutae of the character’s life, small variations eventually leading to a shocking ending. Akerman, incidentally, was inspired early on by the filmwork of Canadian artist Michael Snow, who most people have likely encountered his public sculptural work at the Rogers Centre and Eaton’s Centre.

“We wouldn’t fully experience the film’s point if it didn’t bore us,” the author’s write.

Regularly the New York Times often posts a single image of an art work and asks its readers to spend 10 minutes looking at it without distraction.

Most people would see that as boredom in itself, but if you try it, you will find that there is a reward at the end as the Times delves deeper into the meaning of the painting. Akerman’s film works like that, with a shocking bit thrown in at the end.

To that extent, maybe all still images fit into that category. Our society is so awash in visual images, its easy to dismiss any image, or simply ignore it all as so much wallpaper.

A painting can be an invitation to slow it down, to have a longer look, to find meaning that may not have initially been there at the surface. It can be looked at from the perspective of the representational content — what is the artist trying to say — or it can be looked at from the perspective of the action of the artist’s hand in the creation of the piece.

When I first started painting I didn’t know what I wanted to say. The things that most upset or delighted me were hard to capture in a single image, and I didn’t want to be didactic about it. Was this really the right medium to tackle issues of inequality, for example? But being older I realize that there was content there all along, just as I never went looking for a style, it just came out of my hands and my perseverance. While many of my paintings deal with issues of travel, they are also about the act of being human and searching the globe to understand what we’re all about. Sometimes it can be boring, until you look a little harder.

Changing Weather (Bridge of Allan)(2025) 16″ x 20″ Oil on Canvas

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Today’s painting: Changing Weather is from a photograph I took on my last day in Scotland in 2022. Its the intersection of two streets, but also an intersection in the weather. The High Street (Bridge of Allan) looks rather ordinary, but if you look harder there are stories to be told, including two school kids heading home and another shopper whose body language looks a little apprehensive. She hugs the edge of the buildings while the kids appear to be headed towards her. It’s likely a meaningless encounter, or is it?

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On Kitsch

September 17, 2025

What is kitsch? The word origins are German, but it is generally felt to describe art, objects or design that’s in bad taste because of excessive sentiment or garishness. Some Pop artists, like Jeff Koons, have deliberately played with the idea, such as his porcelain statue of Michael Jackson and his monkey Bubbles. If you take it to its extreme, somehow it becomes perceived as a valid art statement again. The question for the artist is, if you are not already recognized by the system, such as an art star like Koons, how do curators and collectors know when you are being ironic or are simply in bad taste? I personally think that much of Koons work crosses that rubric.

Artists cringe at the idea of being labelled kitsch, so it is no surprise that they often hurl such accusations at each other. I heard the term used on Portrait Artist of the Year, the judges concerned that a portrait may be too heroic or romantic taking away any real portrayal of the subject. Just a slight tilt in that direction can create kitsch. All of that is, of course, in the eye of the beholder when you are simply discussing the angle of the portrait and the light on the face. Not sure where bad taste comes in at that juncture?

I was shocked when I read a New Yorker feature on the 100th anniversary of the death of architect Antonio Gaudi that some considered the Sagrada Familia, his masterpiece, to be kitsch. I don’t know how that fits the definition unless you consider a tower for each of the apostles to be excess garishness. Clearly Gaudi had a unique vision for the Barcelona basilica that he has come to be most associated with. Towards the end of his life, Gaudi was said to have dressed like a pauper, practically living in his office on the site of the construction. His passion for the building continues to be evident, even though it has been challenging for subsequent architects to honour Gaudi’s intentions, especially when the anarchists during the Spanish Civil War trashed much of his original designs and destroyed the maquettes in his office. Gaudi was prone to continually changing his plans anyway, so who knows what would be correct in maintaining that vision? Started in 1882, it was originally expected to be completed in 2026, but that seems unlikely now given the work left to do, so many of its critics are taking aim at a work in progress. Could that level of dedication to a vision turn out to be kitsch?

Inside the Sagrada Familia: If this is kitsch, then the word has lost all meaning.

Perhaps to be kitsch in the early 21st century is simply to create something that is popular. The Sagrada Familia takes in more money from tourism than it spends annually on its construction. Does that make it kitsch? I didn’t feel it was in bad taste when I visited it in 2016.

We see it in the music world all the time. When someone becomes successful they are seldom cool for much longer. If other people like them, it must be in bad taste.

I’m wrestling with this question on a painting I am close to completing. There is an open competition at a nearby gallery in December based on the theme “Life’s Moods.” Of course, that could mean just about anything, but I thought I would tackle it with something more personal after I finished my initial stab at it – producing a picture with long light of an individual strolling uphill to what would likely be a work shift. I liked the painting, (click here) but wondered if it fit the bill? Instead I chose to work from an old Halloween picture of our grandson running with his pillow case bag of candy from one door to another. I liked the exuberance, but did I cross over into excess sentimentality? Oh-oh! After my sister declared that a draft looked “cute,” I went into panic mode. The painting has a lot of challenges to it, including capturing the way the porch light colours the scene. I liked the composition — from a photograph that I cropped from one that was posted by a family member. I have to finish it by the end of the month — I will post when I feel it is complete, although I may decide to submit the original painting instead.

Autumn on Mary St (2025) 12″ x 16″ Oil on Canvas

I usually try and steer away from the cliche, if not the kitsch. I don’t often tackle subjects that are really overdone unless I can bring a new perspective to it (see my Peggy’s Cove painting here). My dental hygienist was talking today about how I must be looking forward to the fall colour given I was a landscape painter. Fall colour is a similar challenge. It’s a crowded field. Everybody has done it. It is likely the most represented season in Canadian painting. I even have an original painting from another artist in our hallway that is set in autumn. I don’t think that painting is kitsch. Nor do I think the one I finally produced early this year is either. I think I pushed the composition to the point where it does look fresh. I do have a personal connection to it — I live literally across the street from this scene. I think if you approach a piece of art honestly — without trying to fit some mold — chances are it will avoid all the inherent traps associated with the kitsch or cliche. But who’s to know? As we saw with the portrait competition, it doesn’t take much to go over the cliff.

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When Painting Was Dead

September 15, 2025

The art world was in one of its “painting is dead” moments in 1987. It had been three years since New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) had last held an exhibition of contemporary painting. One of the pre-eminent gatekeepers of modern art, it would not stage another for 25 years. That alone speaks volumes of the world I stepped into.

You might say it was an act of perversity to become a painter at that point in time, graduating with my BFA – which we cheeky students euphemistically called a Bachelor of “F-All” – from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design. The school has since added the word “University” to the title, just in case there was any doubt. It started granting degrees in 1969 – the first art school in Canada to do so.

Curiously, one of MOMA’s darlings of the painting world was my professor and studio advisor, British post-war artist Riduan Tomkins (1941-2009). His time at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design was short (1983-86), likely his decision to move on spurred by a period of labour strife at the College. He is instead credited for influencing a generation of New Zealand painters after he left Nova Scotia. Those three years seldom get mentioned among his biographical details, although he remains vividly in my memory.

Tomkins frequently reminded us that we stood on the shoulders of those that went before us. Just as I studied under Tomkins (among others), he drew a direct pedagogical line from our class to British painter Walter Sickert, who in turn was a student of Edgar Degas. Tomkins would frequently recite who was a student of who until we arrived back at Degas’ Atelier.

One December, Tomkins was travelling over the Christmas break. With the College shutting down for a week, he asked if I would facilitate the pick-up of several of his paintings by his gallery in Toronto. I brought them back to the student apartment I shared and awaited the pick-up a few days later. It was stunning to see his paintings there in our modest living room. At the time his work featured a figure in the center of the composition, and layers of flat paint built up around it, the colours of the successive layers visible around the edges of the figure. It struck me that painting could offer a unique visual experience as the built-up layers of colour could not be easily replicated in any other medium, nor the sense of depth at the center of the canvas. To see his work on-line is a let-down after one has experienced it in the flesh.

His advice at the time seemed clear enough to me: just add more paint. Painting is about, well, paint.

It surprises me to see the return of figurative painting into the high end commercial galleries. Evidently the rumours of the demise of such painting were much exaggerated.

Similarly, it was interesting to see in yesterday’s Toronto Star a story about movie fans lining up to get into the Criterion Closet, a van that stocked, well, movies on DVD/Bluray. Albeit they were 40 per cent off, a rarity for Criterion, but the fact that people were lined up to purchase what many believe to be a dead medium was phenomenal. Criterion had to set limits — you had three minutes and could only buy three movies, so you had to know what you were looking for before getting your chance. I’ve been a big fan of Criterion films (even though they are American). They are wonderfully mastered, offer a selection of rare, international and art films, and load up their discs with incredible features. We just recently finished watching a box set put out by Criterion celebrating the collaboration between Noel Coward and David Lean. The films look incredible. The insight in the extras was terrific. But again, we are talking about hard copies of feature films — something that was supposed to be over. Even on Duolingo, I noticed that one of the dialogue pieces in French spoke about a school that still used DVD as being so last century. Is DVD/Bluray about to have a resurgence like vinyl? “I love owning movies,” one fan told the Star.

Long Lake (1999) Oil on Canvas

Today’s Image: My last post featured a pastel drawing — a rarity for me. However, I did follow through with an oil painting of the same image — a view across the water at Long Lake Provincial Park near Halifax. You can see how I was still searching for a more vibrant way to make my brushstrokes at that time (1999). I don’t often draw and paint the same subject matter, although I have been known to return to a subject I previously photographed to get a better idea of what was going on in the shadows. It’s one of the reasons I don’t often work from other people’s photographs — a photo may be the equivalent of a thousand words, but sometimes you need a bit more.

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