Jill’s inspiration from her travels to Italy, France, Tibet, Peru, Ireland, India, American South West, Canada, West Coast. Boating and sailing and cruising. Flowers and gardens explored. Inner travels from the dream scape, and imagination.
By an escape artist
Floatsom and Jetsom, my life balances between glimps of calm abiding and wonders of the world. In awe of just about everything, easily distracted with curious founds, lost treasures…happily I surrender into wonder of the uniqueness in each moment.
Why just today I captured a moment while reading a note from my gallery. Lost in the magic of connection, my mind scans the events that brought together a prize!
So much gratitude for the people in my life I rub shoulders with, perhaps to get the fairy dust on me too! This spiral of life right this moment glitters with a finery clearing my vision quest, bifocal merge to view my escape artist world. Continue reading →
Traveling by train from Vancouver to Toronto several weeks ago gave plenty of time to contemplate my next series of paintings. Four days, four nights on the rail. The jostling became pleasantly monotonous, soothing as my iron horse carriage provides a homey comfort. My cozy roomette a 5x7foot space is compacted in stainless steel. A sink, toilet and seat by day and bed pull down at night. A full window is my cornea to visually feast on Canada. One wondrous night snuggled under warm duvet I witness the Northern lights shimmering for hours over icy prairie as we race across northern Alberta and Saskatchewan. The grand plan played its light show, energy pulsed to its tune. I witness more magic than can be imagined as time disappeared.
Shunting rail tracks for priority freight I hardly notice as nocturnal dream merges with real, blurred edges I drift, become the experience.click Sound, motion, colour, fill in space I hardly know the difference. My daytime mediation routine deepens, quickened to the tempo of constant motion I notice my contemplative experience fuzz. The edge of any reality I might believe of it’s solid nature become illusionary.
Surrender, Grace, Focus, Wonder
Living life this way is a blessing
A few years ago walking home from the beach I hear a loud voice tell me to stop, turn and look across the harbour to homes on the edge of the sea, it’s the voice of my grandmother. Demanding, firm, wise and loving, for years I listen to her council and am comforted by her presence.
“You will live there in the end house on the point of land facing that tiny Grace islet”
A series of dreams deepens the message from grandmother as she takes me to the house and shows me living within.
A year later I meet a woman, friend of the deceased owner of this house who asks if I want to see inside. Lovely experiences like this often come my way. We had just sold our small farm property and were about to leave on a two month painting retreat in France.
With Grandmothers insistence I contacted the inheritor, perhaps he would rent it to us on our return from France.
He amazingly said yes! and gave us a two year lease. We left for France, our belongings safe in our new home waiting for our occupancy on return. I begin in earnest to ask grandmother why was it so important to live in this house.
Fulfilling instructions a dream gives is sometimes difficult.
My connection to spirit fuel my paintings, they are threads that weave into the enormous web of life. Dreams speak loud. Will I fulfill the life contract I am asked to express, be the hollow reed, embrace the illumination I am gifted. Each choice matters each choice shapes the character of who I am. Each choice resonates for all to feel.
I merge into five days of intense hands on learning and fulfillment, making a physical manifestation of a dream that had come to me months before.
Under the wings of a master goldsmith I fashion a brooch that represent experiences I have, dreams over the past year ask to come to life.
My medium is usually paint on paper. But more is asked of me. I stretch my comfort to fabricate these visions and meaning into a brooch.
Martin Ebbers, a German master goldsmith with over thirty years of award winning excellence accepted me into studio. From 10- 6pm for five days he coaches me on the alchemy of molten metal.
Winter 2015 the American South West calls. I search for warmth and quiet time to ponder new paintings and stories.
We allot three weeks away to drive some of the spectacular California coast between Carmel and Santa Barbara, settle for ten days in Palm Desert for sun, swim, yoga and reading, then to slowly make our way back home to Salt Spring Island. It becomes a leisurely drive of deep conversation, spawned by thought provoking pod casts. An awesome drive for the natural beauty that evokes silence and wonder.
The Oregon countryside is green rolling lush with tucked in farms, grazing sheep and cattle. The vistas to Mount Shasta, its majesty clearly defined sends shivers of remembrances for previous dreams triggered by this energy vortex. This time is no exception as reverie swallows me, I travel into the snow capped mountain to visit the Crystal Cave with towers of milky calcite lite from an inner source. A resonance sends chills down my spine. Drip drip, liquid lime echoes past me down a black corridor. At the cave entrance Lake Shasta is many meters below. Steep sloped muddy bank meet a flattened lake a shadow of its former self. My lucid dream fades as our drive Continue reading →
I walked a circumambulatory journey around my island home. A walking meditation with attention for the love I feel for Salt Spring Island and the precious Earth we inhabit. I write about this walk in my April blog 2012. Five years hence my remembrance is curious. I had the thought that this undertaking be a grand walk the length and breadth of Salt Spring on main roads, forest pathways, coastal beaches and through main villages. I surrender to however long it takes. I walk an average of 2 hours each day ultimately covering over 150 kilometers. I begin each walk where I left off marking my place with prayer flags and blessing the walk with gratitude for each experience . I see this walk a pilgrimage, one of many in my life. Curiously Continue reading →
France a love affair of countless journeys over decades I surrender to its warm embrace and paint from my heart. A year lived in Provence. A walk on a 1,000 year old pilgrimage path in Languedoc. Sojourn by aqua Mediterranean to experience colour through the eyes of Chagall, and Renoir. “Toujour Amour” is a love of everyday France. The swoon of castle tops on The Dordogne, or a sip of wine under a gnarled olive tree.
These newest paintings are experiences, whispered secrets in fifteenth century stone hamlets it’s slate roof tops glint in evening luminescence. Stone homes burnished, ages worn brightened in each season. Iris, wisteria, rose, a moving tapestry of life lived to fullest.
Time lost in Fairytale hamlets and deep in prehistoric caves awakens as I stir pigment and water. My imaginings energize on canvas. I surrender, to the breath of ancient, myth, magic. I vision a story, a design of simplistic line, movement of multilayered beasts rendered by 14,000 year old artists on the walls of Lascaux.
I ask what is it that calls to be painted then feel the cord of creativity, a soul lust urges me to express and sing my experience. Energy bubbles and yearns to be repeated through the filters of my perception, this France is a toujour amour.
Home now on Salt Spring Island after a two month retreat in rural south west France. Paintings to complete vie for attention as we settle into our new home in Ganges. Business updates and meetings with Leanna we hear about her busy past two months in the Gallery. Friends and family celebrations and sharing all our stories, France is now behind us, sweet memories recede and are replaced with lists of to dos.
We come to our senses and take a precious few days to escape on “DreamTime” our trawler, a Grand Banks. We sail out of Ganges Harbour with a gentle rock of lapping wavelets. Pristine beauty views so clear in every direction. The coastline is
punctuated with sandy beaches, and rocky out cropping. Stately homes curl up with Continue reading →
With deeply held experiences while painting France, I surrender to my dreams captured from nocturnal, lucid and, the place between sleep and awake that Robert Louis Stevenson writes about in his book “Travels with a Donkey in the Cervennes”.
While on a drive to visit a dear friend in near Le Puy by The Central Massif I view a tapestry of lush hills spotted with grazing cows and sheep. Rugged land wrinkles to a huddle of stone habitation. Deep slate stone roofs sag to another and then another, dip down then up, and like a pirouette a conical colombier, the dovecoat, the final flourish is capped with Continue reading →
A renewal and cycle of life, Spring unfolds in the south of France. Leaves unfurl, bees migrate to flowers, baby lambs frolic on wobbly legs. Every day newness reveals bud to flower and sun rising higher. Here since early March our little patio now is sun drenched from early morning. Fresh from the boulangerie croissants, mugs of coffee our day lazily starts listening to doves cooing and cows that lumber past to lush meadows rich in dandelions.
Try to keep up with the steady symphony of growth is near impossible. Daily walks to photograph flowers from tight bud to the Continue reading →