AVAILABLE ORIGINALS

Explore the original artwork currently available for purchase. Shipping is offered to Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and countries throughout Europe. Located elsewhere? Feel free to get in touch, and I’ll be happy to explore available courier options for your location.

If you’re interested in a piece, please complete the contact form at the bottom of the page to receive a personalized shipping quote. Framing options may also be available upon request.

Heron: Pre-Dawn

24"x18", acrylic on canvas.

An intimate moment in the pre-dawn quiet. Keeping the feathers in good form is an ongoing ritual, one that we would all do well to attend to.

$1,185 CAD

Heron: Once in a Blue Moon

12" x 16", acrylic on canvas.

What are the chances a Great Blue would catch the blue moon like this as it was arching its way across the sky? Likely she thinking she was cruising her way around the sun one more time, totally unsuspecting...

$525 CAD

#Beloved

120" x 144", acrylic on 3 birch panels; includes separate frame.

This 3-panelled large work is intended for a large, public space and invites the viewer to settle in its centre, held and loved. Read more about this installation check out the Collaborations Page.

$10,000 CAD

Cadence: The Rhythm of Sounds

10" x 18" diptych - acrylic and embroidery thread on canvas.

This tiny female house sparrow traverses through the night skies in a characteristic undulating flight pattern as drawn in by the embroidered thread. These shiftings of creatures are hidden to most of us, but if you could see in the dark you would see the skies are alive with movement.

$540 CAD

Descant

36" x 52" triptych - acrylic on 3 canvases (Note: middle canvas is gallery wrap, the two flanking canvases are regular wrap. This allows the central canvas to extend out farther from the wall.)

"The prefix, des-, meaning 'two' or 'apart' indicates that the descant is a second song apart from the main melody. A counterpart. The art of composing or improvising contrapuntal part music."

The title suitably describes the disruption/invitation of these last few years. I've found myself improvising around the melodies I've once believed were complete. Launching into a descant is pure joy to hear, like a thrilling crescendo to a familiar tune, but horrible if not done right. It still much work with the melody.

$3,275 CAD

Heron: A Time for Slow

36" x 36", acrylic, inks, charcoal, papers on wood-framed canvas.

A reference to the poet John O'Donohue's words, this is the time for slow.
We live in days when it is a time to listen to the elders, to enquire of poets;
A time to return to self and get reacquainted;
To inhabit my body and gather by the fires of longing.

Re-membering.

$3,665 CAD

Heron: Seeker

24" x 48", acrylic and Posca pen on canvas.

As I observe this regal bird, slow flyer, patient hunter, observant, dignified... and yet gangly and awkward, I can't help but think they are much like we humans. There is a curious kinship. One of a series on the great blue heron, Seeker embodies yearning. Flight between heaven and earth, land and water, the great blue is servant to neither and moves easily from realm to realm.

$3,160 CAD

Heron: Through a Veil of Tears

30" x 40", acrylic and collaged papers on wood-framed canvas.

Our world is groaning under the weight of injustices and pain. I will love it... for it has loved me, in all our imperfections.

$3,100 CAD

On Being Limber

48" x 66", diptych, acrylic on 2 canvases.

This is a portrait of an actual tree, a grandmother-tree who once thrived on a north-facing slope in the Livingstone Range of SW Alberta. It exists deep in a forest of her offspring many generations down, branches sculpted low and interwoven by fierce winds. Did you know limber pines only start producing cones at 40 years old? They are slow-growing, yet perfectly suited to the thin, rocky soils and exposure of mountain life. This species is listed as endangered due to mountain pine beetle and climate change. I have much to learn from this tree and visit it as often as I can.

$7,125 CAD

Spring Prayer

24" x 12", acrylic on gallery-wrap canvas.

There were 5 snowstorms that April. I love winter, but I began wearing a flowered scarf just to remind myself that spring would come, that crocuses were forming under all that snow. On a whim, I tied this scarf between the trees and stood back to enjoy the new view. I stared at it for a long time, a feast of promise and colour in what seemed a perpetually grey world. It offered a metaphor. During darker times, these moments open my thoughts to consider what is beyond my immediate view.

$860 CAD

The Measure of Things From a Liminal Space

48" x 24", acrylic on birch panel.

I don't know anyone who chooses to be in the discomfort of a liminal space fraught as it is with uncertainty and a sense of the not yet. Nevertheless it is a true space; authentic and honest. I like to think it is like standing on the threshold of something new yet unformed, that eventually there will be clarity... perhaps? Hope is here, despite the disorientation. I'm grateful for the grounding presence of the tree--though even the tree faces uncertainty. I don't know how things will turn out. It doesn't look good. And yet. The thing that holds everything together? Love. It's the confounding presence of love. I want this to be my measuring stick. May I recognize it, even when the unravellings upend my longing for tidy solutions. Any remaining sense of cohesion must be summed up by this One Thing. Everything--neighbourliness, nurturing grandsons and the flowers by my door, grief over the genocide happening in real time, fighting for clean water, painting at my easel... is held together by this Source.

$3,160 CAD

Treehugger: Black Cottonwood With Lee-Anne

64" x 64", acrylic on 4 separate wood-framed canvases.
(note: this image has been digitally "stitched" together for easier viewing).

Just west of Fernie, British Columbia, are some of the oldest known cottonwoods in the world. They are protected by the Nature Conservatory of Canada. Lee-Anne is one of those individuals whose heart for wilderness has led her to advocate with both intelligence and passion for sustainable use of our wild spaces. She also happens to be one of my dearest friends in the world.

$8,200 CAD

What Floats My Boat

48" x 24", acrylic, paper & markers on birch panel.

In response to the pervasive nature of alienation and fatigue, especially post covid, I asked the question, “What gives hope, now, in these times?” . I invited anyone I could to share their thoughts on a small, torn piece of paper meant to resemble a sail. Over the months, these paper sails found their way back to me. They arrived in envelopes from across Canada, they were shyly handed to me in the grocery store or left anonymously in my studio mailbox. I was moved by their simple candor. Many more arrived than I expected or could use, but every contribution is represented in this painting, either by collage or by scribing the words within the liminal space between the forms.

These words, mostly from strangers, were impactful. Reading through these 200+ offerings did not solidify certainty or explain to me how to grasp onto hope, elusive as it is. Hope comes in such a wide range of shapes and sizes, after all; your hope is not necessarily what ignites my hope. But as I read the words, it struck me that hope could be seen as a pace setter, a way maker. Not what, but how. We can ignite it in one another. It is found, together, in community.

$3,160 CAD

Glimpses of Blue

36" x 12", acrylic on canvas.

As is often the case in my studio practice, a painting is generated by something I am ruminating one. This, then, is a process painting. I had no idea where it would lead me. The thing about a painting of this nature is that you have to trust it. The painting leads, not the painter. The nest-like structure at the base was first a boat, a coracle, a nest, a pile of bones, then a nest again. Or perhaps it was a crown of thorns. The lines lead upward, through the sail, to the tiniest blue rectangle situated so close to the top that it might slip right off the canvas. And, it might! This is the precarious nature of hope. It might be out of reach. It could slip right out of our grasp. It asks that we attend to it. In such a process, room is created to think, to remember, to settle into quiet respite despite the lament. It is my way to pray.

$1,290 CAD

Good Words to Float My Boat

ORIGINAL PAINTING

12" x 24", acrylic and paper on canvas.

One of several paintings that riff off of the "What Floats My Boat" (see Collaborations Page for full description) piece using the written words of many who contributed to the question, "what gives you hope now, in these times?" . These words, shared on small sail-shaped papers, make up the single sail with many masts.

$450 CAD

This Weight We Carry

48" x 36", acrylic, collaged paper on wood-framed canvas.

A painting that honours the grandmothers who give care to those in front of them and behind them; who curl protectively over their young ones, lips moving in prayer, while looking over their shoulder at the feeble and aged, knowing their lives are carried by that same current. It is the current of time, but also of great love.
Here, the branches are ever more intricate as they cross borders and span generations.

So much weight in one small vessel.

$4,420 CAD

At the Take Out

24" x 48", acrylic and collaged paper on wood-framed canvas.

This piece began as an experiment. What if I just poured some colour on a canvas and smooshed it around with my hands? I figured it might become a landscape but had no particular one in mind. A lake emerged, then heavy clouds. I knew the place! That summer I had been on a week-long paddling trip in Algonquin Park with our daughters and some friends. Near the end of excursion, dark heavy clouds had us racing for the distant shore. Our map said a campsite was located there. We paddled hard into an exhausting headwind. Every so often one of us yelled to the kids, Keep paddling!! We were nearly there when the air stilled and grew heavy with a colour that is difficult to describe. You could taste the electricity. Just as we slipped our canoes onto the shallow bay and dragged them, still loaded, high onto the granite shelf, the skies opened. Someone had had the presence of mind to grab a tarp before racing up the root-exposed bank. We huddled under it, screaming back at the peels of deafening thunder from sheer adrenaline as we frantically dug emergency channels to drain the sudden dozens of tiny rivers away us.

This scene is the day after. We were resting at the take-out, chewing on granola bars in a kind of amazed contentment at simply being alive. The storm had spent itself with only a few ragged, reluctant clouds to show for its former rage. It had been a long night. I don’t think we slept much.

Such moments are cherished. We stepped out of our familiar worlds to explore a new one. We encountered an unbelievable storm. With backs together under that thin tarp, the rumblings grew further apart, and we turned to each other in silence and awe. Probably someone made an inappropriate joke, a poke at the startling reality of our human fragility. There, in our smallness, God was all around and being small was ok.

$3,260 CAD

INQUIRE ABOUT ORIGINAL ARTWORK

Please complete the contact form if you’re interested in purchasing an original piece. I will respond in 3 business days with a shipping quote and information about optional framing, where available. I’d also be happy to provide additional photographs or details about the artwork.

My gallery is located in Coleman, Crowsnest Pass, Alberta. If you would like to view a piece in person, please let me know, and we can arrange a private appointment.

Thank you kindly for your interest. I look forward to connecting with you soon!