
Most of the time, I enjoy writing posts for my site and email subscribers—truly. But sometimes, it feels like just one more thing on a never-ending to-do list. And right now, that list is long.
I take A Wilder View seriously. People signed up to get what I promised: the stories behind the paintings, insight into the business of being a working artist, and honest updates about the ups and downs. I try to deliver on that. But now and then, I wonder if I should skip writing anything at all when the tone isn’t upbeat. Is it better to go quiet for a few weeks—or even months—or to acknowledge the elephant in the room?
Because creating art for a living is still a job. And like anyone with a job, sometimes I get tired of it.
I’ve often thought, wouldn’t it be easier to just go back and get a “real” job? One where I clock in, clock out, and maybe even have weekends. Sure, working for yourself has its rewards, but the hours are brutal. 10-12 hour days, seven days a week, is the norm. If I’m home, I’m working.
Shonna and I haven’t had a real vacation in a few years. She’s working long hours, too, and it’s wearing on both of us. Travel feels more like another chore than a break, especially with everything costing more.
So this year, we’re staying close to home.
But even that’s not as comforting as it used to be. The wildfire threat has been weighing heavy. After Jasper’s nightmare last year, it feels like everyone in our part of Alberta is bracing for our turn. Banff and Canmore have done prescribed burns for years, but now they’re also logging to create larger fire breaks. Nobody’s complaining.
The story now feels like “not if, but when.” From June to September, we’re supposed to be ready to evacuate on short notice. It’s hard to enjoy your home when each sunny day feels like a threat.
Back in June of 2013, we had to evacuate for a flood none of us saw coming. Evacuate from your home once, and you never quite regain the same sense of security, false though it was. They’ve built a lot of flood protection since then, so I wouldn’t complain about a solid month of rain right now.
I’ve been working on a big commission of three cats. It’s going well—I’m finding the personalities—but it’s a slow process. The client has been wonderful and said there’s no rush, but that can be a trap. If someone trusts me with their money and their story, I take that seriously. I tend to put more pressure on myself than anyone else does. And other clients are waiting patiently.
I sent her these latest pics yesterday morning, something I don’t normally do for commissions. While critique at this stage is often premature, she knows my work and offered some helpful insight into how their personalities differ from each other. Since my work is all about the character, I welcome that sort of thing. I want my clients to love their paintings.
For example, I shared that I intended to make Fable (left) look a little less worried as I develop it, but she told me he actually looks like that, so what I gleaned from reference was accurate. I’m making changes to all three based on her feedback. Then I’ll draw the bodies and start putting them together into a composition.
Meanwhile, I haven’t finished a new wildlife piece in a while, and that’s eating at me. The Banff Christmas Market is just five months away. I need new work ready to print, and it’s already June.
Editorial cartooning continues to take more time than I’d like. More energy, too. Keeping up with the news is exhausting and it’s hard to stay creatively engaged when everything feels so heavy. Sometimes I wonder if people subscribed for the fun wildlife stuff and didn’t expect posts like this. But many of you have told me you appreciate the honesty, so here it is:
I’m burnt out. And I don’t know what to do about it.
Like most people, I don’t feel like there’s enough time. I’ve been getting up at 5 a.m. for nearly thirty years. I like working early mornings, and get a lot more done. But even if I watch a couple hours of TV in the evening, I feel guilty. That voice that says “you should be working” never shuts up.
I shipped a big wholesale order of prints and stickers to the Toronto Zoo on Friday. It’s their largest order yet. My printer in Victoria came through as always, and I spent all day Thursday signing and packaging the order to send it by UPS. I still can’t trust that Canada Post will get stuff delivered while they’re negotiating their labour dispute. Yet another small business uncertainty to navigate.
By all rights, I should have felt great about the order. But honestly? Just relief. One less thing to worry about.
No satisfaction. Just… done.
I’ve also been learning video production. And I’ve made it harder than it needs to be—not because the tools are so complex, but because I’ve convinced myself I have to get it perfect. I’ve got the gear. I’ve recorded a ton of footage. I even wrote the narration. But I’ve stalled on recording it, because I know once I start, I’ll feel like I have to keep it up. And video takes a lot of time.
Still, I know it’s necessary. Video is the only marketing that moves the needle anymore. So I’m trying to get over myself and find a workflow I can manage and replicate.
People sometimes suggest I hire an assistant, virtual or otherwise. But that’s not really a solution for me. I can’t hand off my writing, painting, emails, or videos. I don’t have the extra money to offload the marketing. And managing someone else? That’s more work, not less, at least at the start.
What I really need is to streamline. Figure out what’s essential. Because I can’t keep piling more on top of what I’m already doing.

Let me be clear—I’m not fishing for sympathy. I’m healthy. The bills get paid. I have meaningful work and people who support me. I know a lot of others are dealing with far heavier loads—health problems, job losses, financial pressure. You never really know what someone else is carrying.
And I know some of you reading this are always working long hours, too, in harder jobs requiring long commutes, with kids and responsibilities that don’t stop. I’m not suggesting I’ve got it worse.
I’m just telling you where I’m at. If my emails are a little less frequent or a bit quieter, it’s not because I’m slacking. It’s because I’m working. I’m doing what I can with the energy I’ve got—and trying to figure out how to do that without burning all the way out.
Thanks for reading. Your support makes more of a difference than you probably realize.
I’m still here, still working, still figuring it out.




When I’m doing commissions and editorial work, that usually means less time for whimsical wildlife. But if I want to have anything to share with you all, I need to loosen the reins a bit.
Recording the painting process as I go, I’ll add some narration once I wrestle this new video software into submission. I’m hoping to share it in a week or two.
My client kindly gave me permission to share these images and the upcoming video. And since many of you have told me you like seeing how the sausage is made, I’ll be sharing more of that this year.
People often ask what it means. If I’m that solitary dot in the middle, my best chance of connecting with others is through my artwork, represented by the bear claws. But just as important is the reverse, where nature, wildlife and the world around me deliver the inspiration to create more art.
I have been frustrated the past few years that it seems I can never get as much done as I would like to, still failing to find traction. I have too many ideas, too much ambition, and little time to do it all. As fiction writers need to aggressively edit and ‘kill their darlings’ to make for a better story, I must abandon some things to make progress on the ones that mean the most to me.
I haven’t painted anything in a month and needed to get back into the groove. These were supposed to be rougher sketches, but it’s difficult to stop once I get going. These are neither sketches nor finished paintings, but somewhere in the middle.

At the show’s end, tearing down took about an hour and a half. But the line-up of cars to access the loading docks was ridiculously long. I have a sturdy hand dolly that transforms into a robust cart. It was quicker for me to haul my booth out in three trips through two large halls to the other side of the building where I had parked my car. That took another hour, but it was better than sitting in a long line of vehicles for all that time.

Though I saw them all weekend, Tracy and Sheldon took these photos of their collection Saturday night and shared them by text. They rotate their prints in what they call Critter Corner. When I saw these photos, I joked that I felt like a drug dealer and it might be time for an intervention, especially since they bought more
Long-time collectors also bought canvas, metal and acrylic prints this weekend. I have more of those orders to fill this week. I talked with former commission clients and ones whose paintings I’m just about to start. I got the usual gentle pressure about the book, which I never seem to gain traction on, and a few offered welcome suggestions on which animals I might consider painting next.
I’ve used a polar bear or two in cartoons about climate change. And when Kevin Costner was the parade marshal for the Calgary Stampede in 2022, I used my portrait of his Yellowstone character, John Dutton, in a cartoon.
The Calgary Herald currently runs my cartoons more than any other daily newspaper in Canada, and they’ve been publishing my work for more than twenty years. How often, depends on how the editor of the day feels about my work in general. Everyone has their favourite artists.
If you’re coming to the Calgary Expo, I’ll be chained to my booth from opening Thursday to closing on Sunday. I set it up yesterday, and I’m ready for the chaos. Come by and say Hello!

This was my first year setup, and I was thrilled I got enough sales to cover my expenses. Shonna helped me out the first couple of years, but I’ve long been able to handle this show solo. She works hard at her own job, so I don’t need her to come and do mine, too.
The BMO Centre has been under renovation for several years, and the show’s footprint has kept shifting. With the convention centre expansion and renovation completed this year, it’s a massive change, and Artist Alley is finally back with the rest of the show.
This was my booth in 2019, one of my best spots ever. During setup, the booth next to me was a no-show, and the vendor on the other side of the gap asked the organizers if he could take some of that space. They agreed. He excitedly came to me and said he’d only take half of it, and I could have the other half, a generous gesture on his part. We both expanded our booths and even had storage space between us.












Fortunately, everything I need for Expo is already here or on the way. I placed a large print order earlier this week to fill orders for
Additionally, the next three weeks will be some of the busiest of my year, and the bags won’t even be here for another week. I don’t have the room to add hours and days of shipping and delivering tote bag orders on top of all the prep and drawing cartoons.
But every year, even if they follow 







In 1998, while managing a waterslide facility at a hotel in Banff, I drew my first cartoon for the Banff Crag & Canyon. Many editorial cartoonists get into the profession because they’re political junkies who can draw. I liked to draw, and I figured I could learn to follow the news and politics if I had to.
So, what’s a syndicated cartoon? I get that question a lot.
I’m most proud of the awards I received at Photoshop World Las Vegas in 2010 and 2014. The first year, I won the Illustration and Best in Show awards for some of my early animal paintings. That recognition was important to me because it was from an organization full of people I liked and respected. They were an encouraging group of talented artists and teachers, and they helped me become a better artist.
The
I’ve got some mixed feelings about this unexpected nomination. I’m pleased at the recognition, of course. It’s a bit of validation in a profession where I’ve often felt like an outsider.
When I finished this Ringleader painting,
There was still plenty of snow on the ground, on the colder side of March, and we didn’t see any wildlife. But we did what greying old men like us usually do; played cards and games, went for walks around the property, napped and played guitar. This was a selfie I took for a text reply to Shonna one afternoon when she asked how we were doing.
She complimented our usual black T-shirt matching ensembles. I told her I suspected she might be making fun of us, to which she replied, “Nailed it!”
Canadians aren’t happy.



I have always strived for Made in Canada with the products I sell.