REASONS

Northern Ontario Landscape                          Pencil Drawing

Reasons For Making Art......

I've been making art, drawing, painting, printmaking, and writing, for decades. Having reached that point where one questions reason for making more, one reflects on just why one turned to making art as a profession. The decision wasn't easy, not by a long-shot. I could have stayed where I was working at a job that paid well, and seemed at the time to have a future, but no, I decided to pursue a dream. Decades ago I watched in awe as my great aunt turned a blank canvas into an autumn forest landscape. I was hooked, and with the thought still fresh 40 years later, I left the work-a-day world to pursue my dream of becoming an artist. Reflecting back I suppose that I sought, and continue to seek admiration for my efforts, just as my great aunt had from me. I'm still trying some 40+ years later......

There are, no doubt, many reasons why persons make art, and being compelled is another way, I believe, of saying that I do it to gain attention. No one is born with creative ability. Not unlike any other skill it’s learned. Some appear to learn more quickly, giving the appearance that it comes naturally, however, it's not unlike other skills where some excel, while others struggle.

Musicians and writers, I believe, are really no different than visual artists, using their learned talent to tell a story, fictional, or experienced, and in so doing to also gain attention.

Art is not taught. Technical skills might be shared, but art, other than commercial art, is a journey of learning with deemed positive results, reinforced by gaining the attention of those that profess to know what is thought to be art, i.e. critics.

Financial success in the arts is simply the result of good marketing, and the artist succumbing to the need for public attention. Rarely does financial success result in lasting art.

And so it goes. Many young persons devote their lives to becoming artists, not realizing that one never actually becomes the artist that they hoped they'd be. It's an unending life time struggle, but, and I personally can say, that I've enjoyed, and continue to enjoy, the struggle.

 

Oxtongue Lake, Algonquin Highlands, Ontario.                  Memory -  Pencil Sketch 10, 2025

ALGONQUIN ONCE AGAIN

 On September 8th we travelled to the Blue Spruce Resort near to Algonquin for the umpteenth, and possible last time. Hey, we're getting old, and needless to say when one gets in their mid eighties hustling up to Algonquin some 100 miles away is no easy feat....and then there's trips into the park on a daily basis. with heavy traffic  dominated, it seems , with crazy, speeding drivers. Still we managed and although we seem to have missed the Fall migration of the songbirds, we did get to see and hear some Common loons, and my friend Raven. I also managed a couple of sketches, one at Canisbay Lake, and two at Oxtonge Lake of the same scene, a test to see if I had forgotten how to sketch with watercolours.

We've reserved for next year, just in case, as one never knows....

WHATONEARTH

I recently responded to an article posted on the CBC News  "Whatonearth". There is concern by many of the threat to what was a common site on our fresh water lakes, the Common Loon. Here's what I wrote...

Hello Emily and Hannah

Being well into my 80s I feel that what I have to say, have observed over the years, will in all probability be ignored as simply the ranting of some old fart, however, I’ll have had my say just the same…..

Regarding the disappearance of loons on our lakes I have no doubt that global warming, air pollution, and so on, as studies by scientists suggest, should be considered as aiding to the problem. However, let’s be truthful the real problem, as Walt Kelly’s Pogo suggested back in the 70s on the first Earth Day, is us. I’ve paddled, stress paddled, many lakes where at one time there were loons, and now there are none. They, together with myself, were chased off these lakes by human activity. Where once was quiet with the odd cottage, there’s now million dollar cottages, jet skiis, and large motorboats. Try paddling against the wind when faced with the wakes of motor boats, coming at you from all sides. Then think of the loons attempting to nest at the side of a lake. Pristine is gone. Chaos brought to the lake by those trapped in a fast paced world seeking solitude, has

destroyed….everything.

And then there’s the problem of the loon’s winter feeding grounds. Some may migrate to ice free inland lakes in the US, but the majority migrate to the oceans where, there’s no need to elaborate, that life for creatures depending upon their bounty is under threat, resulting in increased competition from all sides.

So, the problem, not only with the disappearance of loons, but the death of Nature itself….too many people. We’re killing ourselves. The oceans are dying, the sky is burning, people are starving, wars rage, species are going extinct, and the human migration seeking safe shelter has begun. Sadly, there really is no going back. Consensus, as to a solution, is, seemingly, not possible. Too many voices. Adaptation the only solution. Sadly, the loons do not have this choice, and like the Dodo an artist’s interpretation, and photos, will have to serve for what once existed.

Perhaps, we should have heeded David Suzuki’s warnings? 

I do enjoy, and look forward, to your articles.

Ernest Andrew Somers

Midland, ON

                  Misty Morning, Common Loon, Whitefish Lake, Alg.   Acrylic Sketch

                                        Disturbed, Common Loon, Hand-coloured Etching.

And Then What?

 

Georgian Bay - Watercolour Painting

I find some enjoyment playing with words, reading the news, then attempting to write something that emphasizes my take away from a news item. Unfortunately, there’s very little news that makes you come away with a smile on your face. The news in this day and age is filled with conjecture, and slanted towards the negative. Hence I find myself writing very little that could be considered cheery. The news these days is dominated by wars, seemingly never ending, when the big news, or what should be considered the big news, is our ongoing efforts to simply destroy ourselves with seemingly never ending greed a curse with which we seem to have been genetically afflicted. Today I read an article that implied that we have, humanity has but three years to halt the Earth’s rising temperature …............

And then What?

With the dominos falling

picking up speed

a warning has been issued

but few,

very few, 

take heed.

A warning has been issued

a threshold declared

1.5 Celsius, 

or misery everywhere.

Weather once predictable 

will become rare, 

as heat unbearable

no longer a phenomenon 

now suffered everywhere.

The dominos now racing,

the end nowhere in sight,

societies struggle, as others

take flight.

But where?

No shelter in sight……

Then what?

Adaptation

by but a few, and

for the others….

no one really cares.

And then what?

Obvious!

~~~~~~~

Without giving my age I should mention that I am on the cusp of leaving planet Earth for somewhere, somewhere. Sad to leave knowing that the Earth is in such a bad state, Sad, that we've simply screwed up a possible paradise for wanton greed and stupidity. Hopefully, AI and technology come to the rescue in time to prevent total disaster. In the meantime, however, I would suggest to everyone reading this blog to sit for a moment, and develop a plan to adapt to the weather and social changes that are about to take place.

Watercolour Sketch - Chikanishing Hiking Trail, Killarney Provincial Park

A Superior Adventure

A Superior Adventure

Much of my time spent as a professional artist was producing product. Mind you, that product was art, paintings, drawings, and original prints, and I enjoyed making it. But, it was not the art that I had dreamed of making when I first studied to become an artist. I had learned early on in my career as an artist that if you wished to survive you had to earn a living, and if you weren’t going into teaching, you had to produce something for which there was a market. Being a naturalist, and having a passion for bird watching, I painted and made etchings of birds and waterfowl. Weekends and holidays, to satisfy the need to grow as an artist, we’d head off to Superior, Algonquin, or Killarney Provincial Park to canoe, hike, and to sketch. We had many adventures and I produced many sketches that I promised to share and write about in my old age. Perhaps, now is a good time to begin.

A Superior Adventure

Vacationing in mid October up on the north shores of Lake Superior is an invitation to a bag of mixed weather. Dawn breaks and the showers that plagued us the previous day begin to give way to overcast conditions and a cold north wind. Our room at Superior Adventures Lodge near to Wawa, although comfortable, was never designed to accommodate clients late into the season, and this morning it feels cold and damp. There's no hurrying to meet the day. We linger in bed enjoying the warmth of the down filled duvet until we were certain that the woodstove in the kitchen had been stoked and coffee is ready.

 Our plan for the day is to hike the trail from Old Woman Bay up into the hills where, hopefully, I can sit for awhile and complete a few sketches. Following morning coffee and a breakfast consisting of second helpings of gorp we set about preparing for our hike. It's hard to know just what to wear at this time of the year. Often times, despite the cold of the morning, afternoons can become quite warm. Water, energy bars, painting equipment, and rain jackets stored in our knapsacks we grabbed our walking sticks, jump in the car, and take off down the road for Old Woman Bay.

There's no one in the parking lot at Old Woman Bay. You can't blame anyone for delaying their trip into the park early this morning. The wind off the lake is numbing cold. A streak of blue sky on the horizon, however, holds promise that the weather might break and provide favourable sketching conditions. We head out on the trail.

The first half mile, or so, leads through a second growth forest beside a rushing river. I'm tempted to go back and get the fishing rod and give it a try. "Perhaps next time," I think to myself. The trail is wet and muddy. Water drips off the overhanging branches as we brush by and soon the cold is compounded by dampness, which seeps into our clothing. The muddy trail turns into an ancient riverbed strewn with boulders and rocks forcing us to calculate every step and slowing our pace. Another quarter mile, the trail narrows and we head up. The trail up to the ridge is well worn and made slippery by the previous day's rain. We're quickly winded, and stop often to catch our breath. We push on to the top. It seems like forever, but we make it. The view is awesome.

 Northern Ontario with its rocks and trees, small hills and mountains stretch off into the horizon. Canada's Group of Seven painters referred to this country as Algoma. Some of their best works came from this area. We hike the ridge and look for a place to make some sketches. The trail meanders up and down the ridge. We're bushed when, a half-hour or so later, we come upon a rocky outcropping with a suitable place to sit and sketch for awhile. Sandy, an avid birder, pulls out her binoculars ready for whatever bird specie that might happen by. I pull out my sketchpad and watercolours and search for a comfortable rock, if there is such a thing. As I begin to sketch the sky begins to clear and the all but leafless forest far below lights up. The few Aspens that still have leaves are lit up like blotches of gold. A lone raven soars high above. Its gronks and cackles break the silence of this place of quiet solitude.

I've gone away to my private place. It's quiet here, ever so quiet. In this place there are no troubles, nor worldly concerns. Scientists debate about the existence of alternate universes and some even go so far as to suggest that we live multiple lives in different dimensions. This must be true for in this moment I've become a witness to the world that exists before me. Unconsciously I mix paint and make marks on a piece of paper creating a memory of my being here.

Sandy rooting through the knapsack distracts me. I've been in my far away place for almost two hours. It's lunchtime. My butt is numb. My legs are cramped and I can hardly stand proving that there exists no such thing as a comfortable rock. I've managed several sketches. It's time for a break. We sit on the rocky ledge high above the forest floor eating our lunch and enjoying the warmth of the late autumn afternoon sun. I'm fascinated by the light and shadow show being played out on the forest floor caused by clouds scurrying through the sky, hurried along by a stiff northern breeze. I'm reminded of a book dealing with the life and times of Franklin Carmichael, the Group of Seven artist, entitled "Light and Shadow". Carmichael was fascinated by the shifting shadows on the La Cloche Hills. For the plein air artist the shifting shadows can be a nightmare as the landscape that they're attempting to capture is constantly changing.

Lunch finished we pack up and begin the long trek back to the trailhead. We continue along the ridge and come out on a lookout over Old Woman Bay. It's quite spectacular and although the afternoon is racing along I have to stop and make a sketch.

Sketch made we carefully pick our way down the trail clutching at trees as we stumble through washed out and wet areas. An hour later a bit bruised and tired we reach the trailhead. It's been a good day. Several sketches and no bears encountered. Yes, it's been a very good day, one to remember. Perhaps, I think to myself, I'll write about it in my oId age.