Going Inkless

The standard answer my Grandma would give whenever one of us kids would complain about the cold was one simple question.  "What are you gonna do when winter comes?"  To this day, it replays in my mind every time I notice a chill or hear someone comment on the frosty weather.  "What are you gonna do when winter comes?" It sounds curt, unsympathetic, or maybe a little cold, but the response was always delivered with kindness.  I assure you, she did care about our comfort.  She was concerned about red cheeks and noses when we came in from hours of snowball wars, from tunneling through drifts or climbing the snow covered wood pile in order to reach the low-hanging icicles.  She fed us hot cocoa and gave us warm socks for Christmas like any other grandmother.  The question was more a matter of philosophy - in far fewer words than I might use, but that was part of her Grandma magic, I guess.  She was succinct, often with a touch of humour, and she let...

If you've ever taken an art class, chances are, you have been taught to notice negative space. Maybe, you've taught yourself or recognized it accidentally at some time when your mind was left to play ungoverned. The term and its definition could be new to you, and in truth, the two don't mesh as neatly as one might expect. Negative space is the blank part of the composition. It comprises all the unmarked territory on the canvas, the empty piece of the picture. By calling it negative, we are expressing that this is the part without. No line, no form, no active participation of the artist. However, as I've said, the term is deceptive. In recognizing negative space, we are seeing the shape of what isn't there. The artist comes to know the weight and texture of those absences and respects that what the artist doesn't do can be as powerful as what they do. Once you unlock this idea, you start to sense the spaces between all things. Negative space is not l...

There's a tone of harvest's richness and abundance that ripens in late summer, growing fat and gold until one day you realize you've slipped into autumn. I think it's always been my favourite season. This is the breathing space between the summer's frenzied activity and the hectic winter holidays. The air is cooling and filled with the scents of ripe apples and dying leaves. Where green ruled the view, now all is flame and gold, and a papery rustle accompanies each crisp gust of wind. It's time to dig out the sweaters, to see the new patterns and promise in another school year, to plan costumes and fun for Halloween. But autumn, for all its joys, cannot be separated from the principles of death and loss. We recognize that the world around us is dying, drying out, moving from summer's blush to winter's shroud. Through all the celebrations of the season, we feel that ancient wheel turn. Autumn is a time to contemplate the darkness. In the world ...