Some nights are the colour of deep ultramarine, others the sky becomes a darkened forest green or muted charcoal; but tonight the heavens are black. The moon, clear and white, sits like a half circle silver button on the dark velvet sky. A portrait of grace and elegance until a fine mist drifts across its face shrouding the light in a pearly gray. The clear lines softened with moisture. Graciousness replaced by an ethereal and mysterious glow. I've been dreaming lately in visions unrecognizable. The line between sleep and awake blurred. And I've been immersed a fierce battle with the third of three small painting I started over the holiday season. Is it me? Is it the loss of inspiration that can overtake me at this time of year? Or just a difficult and obstinate painting that has a mind if its own. An inner soul that won't be guided but is pushing me in a direction I had no intention of going. I want to give up on it but can't resolve the feeling that, now begun, I must see this creation through until it takes its place in reality and can stand beside other paintings. Will it be proud? Or lacking in some way due to the combat we have engaged in? Only time and perseverance will tell. For the sake of escape and reassurance that warmth and sunshine does exist somewhere on the planet I have booked a flight to Mexico next month, rented an apartment in a very small village nestled in a quiet pacific coast cove, and packed my carry-on with basic essentials…..pencil, paper, music and some light clothes. A recipe for renewal.

It has always been a tradition for me to give some quiet contemplation to the past year on the 31st of December and write my thoughts in my journal. At times, when I have been out celebrating, this might have occurred in the wee hours of the New Year and had a somewhat sleepy, exhausted edge to it but tonight I am home before the clock strikes out the old. So here I sit….thinking…but my eye, and mind, is distracted by falling snow outside my window. More snow! I have lived in places where it snowed every winter for months on end and it felt natural. It seemed suitable to that place. That city or country wore its snow with pride and beauty. Sometimes in those places when the snow left, the magic disappeared and the place became brown and boring. But Vancouver is not a snow place. Vancouver is a place of colours, a constantly changing kaleidoscope. Its winter wear of white is best worn for a day or two or three but no longer. Longer doesn't suit its wet coast nature. I can't help feeling betrayed on this last night of 2008. I miss the rain, the various shades of green, and the soft spongy ground beneath my feet. I'm distracted and put off my work, ready to end the season and start the New Year, with new paintings, new adventures and colours to inspire the eye. A Warm and Colourful 2009 to All.