
This past week, Shonna and I headed north to visit her Dad and family. It’s a seven-hour drive from here, and we haven’t been up there in quite some time. We planned these dates awhile ago, and thankfully both of our workloads were a little more manageable right now, with good weather for the trip.
Shonna’s parents own a small campground northwest of Fox Creek called Poplar Ridge RV Park. It’s a pretty area with rolling hills and forests, and they’ve spent years adding amenities and improvements. If I were on a long road trip south from Alaska or points north, I would be pleasantly surprised to pull in here for a rest. It’s close to the highway for convenience but far enough down the access road to be quiet and peaceful.
With power, water, and showers, it was plenty comfortable. They had a trailer set up for us, so we certainly weren’t roughing it. One evening, Shonna’s aunt, uncle, and cousin came out from town for dinner, and it was good to slow down with nowhere to be. We also toured around Fox Creek so Shonna could reminisce and see what had changed. After thirty years of marriage, it was nice to revisit some of the places I hear about in her stories.
On Tuesday, the four of us drove to Whitecourt to spend time with Shonna’s brother Cody and his family. He had offered to take us up the Athabasca River on his jet boat, so we met him at the launch. Shonna and her Dad lounged in the back while I stood beside Cody with my camera ready. They’ve seen plenty of wildlife on this river.
Every time I take the camera out, I learn something new, usually by making a mistake. This time, I left my new DJI Action Pro 5 in the car, not wanting to keep everyone waiting. That was foolish, since this kind of trip is exactly what the camera is designed for. I could have clamped it to the windshield, pressed record, and left it running. Instead, I relied on my phone for short video clips.

Fortunately, I had my Canon camera and managed to photograph bald eagles and an osprey. Even with the camera settings dialed in, I learned that a jet boat cannot simply shut down and idle on a fast-moving river. They are designed for shallow water but must keep moving at a good speed. Cody explained that propeller boats can’t operate here because some stretches are less than a foot deep. His ability to read the river was impressive, and it was clear you need to know what you’re doing.

So there I was, trying to capture moving targets on a bright sunny day, over reflective water, from a moving platform. The odds weren’t great, so the fact that I got anything worth keeping feels like a win. The birds of prey shots were fine but nothing special. Just as we turned back, Cody and Shonna spotted a black bear swimming across the river, an unexpected treat.
None of the shots from the river are good enough for reference, but I never know where inspiration might come from. Seeing wildlife in the wild is always worth it.
Even without the river encounters, we enjoyed some friendly domestic critters. Shonna’s parents’ dog, Jetta, is a classic rural yard dog. Her job is to bark at strangers, but once she warmed up, we were fast friends. I like that her grey matches mine.
Shonna’s brother’s dog, Tess, is a bundle of energy with no slow setting. I’m surprised she sat still long enough for me to take a photo. Go ahead, try to take the puck. I dare you.
But the star of the show was their new kitten, Minnie. Already a people cat, she was affectionate, vocal, and had an intoxicating purr. We joked that they would have to check our bags before we left to be sure she wasn’t coming home with us.
Whenever I photograph dogs or cats, I want to paint them, and Minnie was especially photogenic. I now have some strong reference shots, though with commissions waiting and a list of wildlife paintings underway, I don’t know when I’ll get to them. That is why the idea of ever retiring feels ridiculous. There are too many animals to paint.
On the way home Wednesday, we stopped at the cabin I often rent with friends so I could finally show it to Shonna. I had checked ahead and the owners said we were welcome to drop by between guests. Shonna and the owners have heard plenty about each other, so the introduction was overdue.
People sometimes ask why Shonna and I don’t go to the cabin together. The truth is she likes projects and keeping busy, while I go there to do nothing with my buddy Darrel. Let’s face it, when I’m away, she also gets the house to herself, so who’s really getting the break? At least now she has some context for my old men at the cabin stories.
I’m not a fan of long drives, but this trip was good. The secondary highway had light traffic both ways, the weather cooperated, and I’m glad Shonna got to see her family. It wasn’t really a vacation, but it was a welcome break from our work.
Trips like this remind me that inspiration doesn’t just come from the studio. Whether it’s a bear crossing a river, an osprey overhead, or a kitten purring in my lap, these encounters all feed the work I do when I sit down to paint.



After wrapping up the three-cat commission I’ve been working on (and talking about) for the past couple of months, I needed a reset. Not a full break—but something without expectations, pressure, or deadlines. Just a chance to paint for myself again.









When people talk about art for a living, they usually mean the highlights—the big launches, the finished pieces, the stuff that looks good on a timeline. But this—the half-finished paintings, the licensing negotiations, the time made for ideas—this is the work.

This particular cartoon also featured a grizzly bear—so the best of both worlds. I signed both prints and shipped them yesterday.
I’m always surprised when I sort through reference photos, because often something I thought I had, doesn’t look as good when I get home. And then a random throwaway photo might spark a painting.
This little calf was painted from reference I took at the cabin a few years ago. I’ve since retired it because frankly it wasn’t popular, even though I enjoyed the work and like the painting. That happens a lot, where my favourites may not be your favourites.
But one evening on this visit, I noticed the neighbour’s cows hanging around his gate near the road, and shortly after this first pic, they clustered together and it struck me comical. So I took a bunch of photos, and though I’d work from several of the ones I shot, I think there’s a painting here. Already thinking about how long it would take, but this is a marathon, not a sprint.
I’ll have to let it simmer a bit, but whenever I hear that voice whisper, “hey, look here,” I try to pay attention.
And while I still spent too much time in my own head, thinking about work and worrying about things I can’t control, the setting and company helped me turn down the volume for a few days.
I’ve been working on a commission of three cats, and it’s coming along well. The client has provided some valuable feedback on the images I’ve shared so far. I’ve also recorded a bunch of the process, written the video narrative, and I’m still working on that video and the painting itself.
I based this little fawn on reference I shot at 
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.
I’ve been working on a big
Meanwhile, I haven’t finished a new wildlife piece in a while, and that’s eating at me.

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.











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 





