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Home in Unexpected Places

“Home” is commonly defined as a place of residence where you experience peace, comfort, and safety, whereas the traditional definition of “wilderness” or “backcountry” is quite the opposite; a region that is largely uninhabited or void of significant human use, typically due to remote and inhospitable conditions. When we step foot into the backcountry; whether for skiing, climbing, or hiking; we release full control of comfort and safety as nature dictates the conditions and often tests out resilience. Some days feel effortless and full of joy as we move in rhythm with our surroundings and sometimes, we have to dig deep, finding physical and mental limits as it’s up to us to adapt to the conditions at hand. On multiday excursions, this becomes a sort of daily ritual that typically ends with a place to rest and refuel, whether just for a night or day after day. Here we start to find echoes of safety and familiarity amidst the unknown, evolving into a place of profound connection and comfort amidst rugged terrain and unpredictable elements. Snowy huts, tents scattered on granite, or a barebones shelter perched high above glaciers; gradually, these refuges become a home in unexpected places.

Morning Glow, 2024

acrylic on canvas, 18x24 inches

The Golden Alpine Holiday lodges in the Esplanade Range have become a second home for me as I spend the winter seasons working as a hut custodian. Days spent stoking the fire, shoveling snow, and hauling water amongst other tasks, followed by an afternoon ski tour before your evening duties call. Just when you think it can’t get much better than that, you get rewarded with views like this with your morning coffee.

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Morning Glow

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Skier's Camp

Skier's Camp, 2020

acrylic on wood panel, 24x18 inches

Not fully knowing what mountaineering was, I signed myself up for a NOLS mountaineering course in 2019 where we spent 28 days traversing the remote Waddington Range of coastal BC on foot. I was instantly hooked. From then on, the draw of wild places became a major compass in life. When I couldn’t physically be in the mountains due to university commitments, I began to teach myself how to paint them. At first, it was a bit of an escape, daydreaming of days climbing while studying on the Albertan prairies. Over-time, I began to realize just how impactful art can be in shaping our connection to a place. This idea solidified for me in early 2020 during a class about human relationships to landscapes where I was able to piece together my love of art, nature, and connecting people to the nature. As part of the class in an open-ended assignment, I created this painting as part of a small series exploring the human-glacier relationship. This one specifically was an exploration of my personal relationship to glaciers while immersed in the vast, glaciated terrain of the Waddington Range. The view of Mt. Finality and the Franklin Glacier Complex from our perch above the Dias Glacier skier’s camp is a place I re-visit often in my mind and I wanted to try to capture the sensation of being there: the light snapping of the tent in the cool breeze coming off the glacier, contrasted by the warm sun, the way the light hits the surrounding peaks throughout the day, and how much perception gets thrown off while travelling across the expansive glaciers below.

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Mount Bell, 2019/24

watercolour & pen on paper, 28x13 inches

One of the most spectacular sunrises during my time in the Waddington Range that felt like a well-earned reward for the previous days’ adventure. With a break in the weather, we left our camp on the Geddes glacier for the Bell glacier below, after spending an extra day hunkered in our tents listening to the thundering of nearby seracs collapsing. Once in the valley, we ascended up the new glacier that kept skewing our perception of distance. The terrain seemed to keep growing until we reached the crux of the day, a near impassable crevasse maze where suddenly your perception was kept in check by the gapping cracks surrounding you. The maze almost turned us around until we found one narrow snow bridge connecting us to the next part of the puzzle. Once we navigated our way through the thick of it, it was a couple hour post-hole in isothermic snow to our new camp on the pass North of Mount Brokenhead. The next morning, we groggily got up for our alpine start tired from the previous days effort, but were soon rewarded by watching the panorama of surrounding peaks become cloaked in pink and orange alpenglow. It’s funny how suddenly you forget how tired you are when nature puts on a show on some of the most beautifully-rugged mountains and glaciers.

Mount Bell

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Craggy Oasis

Craggy Oasis, 2024

acrylic on canvas, 30x40 inches

The Sapphire Col Hut in Rogers Pass resembles a bit of a modified garden shed nestled between two craggy ridges with glaciers on either side of the col. A thin metal wall shelter, accessorized with a plywood bed platform and a small shelf to cook on by the door. It claims to fit six but two felt like enough. Despite being such a basic shelter, it was the perfect place to be for four bluebird days full of climbing nearby peaks, supplemented with lounging in the sun in the small rocky meadow outside the hut.

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Drawn Back, 2024

watercolour & pen on paper, 30x22 inches

After a day of storm skiing in the trees below Fairy Meadows/Bill Putnam Hut, we skinned back up the moraines just as the clouds were starting to break. Captivated by the dramatic clouds and long cast shadows as day transitioned to the soft colours of early sunset, I stopped on the skin track just before the hut to capture the scene.

For this piece, I wanted to re-create the sketch I made in my field book. Majority of the time when I do a field study and think I might want to do a larger, refined painting of it in my studio, I’ll take a couple photos to refer to later. This sketch, I didn’t take any photos of the spot after so I had to largely work off of my memory. This is the first painting that I’ve relied so much on just memory to create parts of the scene such as the colours, highlights and shadows. But since I wanted the re-created sketch to be a main focus of the piece, details or colours that I couldn’t exactly remember were then purposely left out or re-imagined based on what I could remember or the feeling of it.

Drawn Back

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Climber's Haven

Climber's Haven, 2024

acrylic on canvas, 24x36 inches

Bugaboo Provincial Park lures climbers in with its towering granite spires. I was extremely lucky to have a friend take me there for my first alpine climbing experience during my first season of climbing. The magic of the area stuck with me that the following year I returned despite not being able to line up a climbing partner, and instead went for my first plein air painting dedicated trip. Applebee Dome, the “climber’s camp,” becomes a scattered collection of tents in the alpine that can sometimes feel exposed to the elements, giving you a taste of the vulnerability you may feel while high up on the spires. Yet the awe-inspiring terrain and familiarity of the place with each route climbed continues to bring you back.

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Midnight Sun Commute, 2024

watercolour & pen on paper, 22x30 inches

This painting was created using various reference photos of this spot in Haines Pass to help piece together the scene based on my memory. I wanted to capture various key moments of a two night stay at the little, plywood Green Shack during an eleven day bikepacking ski trip in the Yukon/Alaska this May: a roadside stop to paint a magical midnight sunset, the coziness of the shack with the wood stove, and skiing the North face of Mount Nadahini (the peak in the painting) on the only bluebird day all trip.

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Midnight Sun Commute
Exhibitions:

Brackendale Art Gallery

August 6th - September 18th, 2024

Squamish, BC

Art Gallery Golden

July 5th - August 3rd, 2024

Golden, BC

Holm Coffee Co

June 28th, 2024

Revelstoke, BC

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