The Hamilton Bank Building

Another office has been absorbed into my collection in this 100 year old building.  This place continues to fascinate me with it's string of characters who each have different motives for congregating in this palace on the tracks.

What is that Thing that creates?  Where does it come from and how do we summon it.  With this wide range of mediums being practiced here the answers are broad reaching.  Opening our studios on June 1st brought this conversation forward for me frequently.

I spent May producing a series of short videos on the topic, and on the neighbourhood that inspires us.







Ironically, Kermodi has been broken into twice in as many weeks, windows are regularly smashed often just for pleasure, and we probably should have more security in place then we do.  Yet we are all still here, creating, watching the trains, smelling the roasting coffee and smiling about it all.

Some day I will come up with a smart, self-reflective one that can tie all of these together.

Christine Schuss showed her work in one of my studios and we are just about to re-hang the unsold pieces, which aren't many.  I'm looking for another new artist to show in August, as it's obviously a valuable venue for those who are putting together their first or second solo show.  Suggestions welcomed.

Pronunciation: /ɪnspɪˈreɪʃ(ə)n/

Deep water diving into the dark abyss of footage, searching for the treasure chest of jewels. Somehow we have to carry them into the light so everyone can see them. We have to clean them just the right way so that you will see them at their best. But it is all of them together that is the splendor of a great film.

inspiration Pronunciation: /ɪnspɪˈreɪʃ(ə)n/ noun

1 [mass noun] the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative:

• divine influence, especially that supposed to have led to the writing of the Bible.

2 a sudden brilliant or timely idea: then I had an inspiration

3 [mass noun] the drawing in of breath; inhalation: crackling sounds are heard in the stethoscope on inspiration

I surround myself with healthy distractions to inject into the long durations of sitting. My phone is off, internet unplugged, and the trains continue past my window in a linear fashion. I absorb the clips into my paintbox and exhale them in a non-linear fashion- playing with time at the tip of my fingers, somehow keeping it sorted in my consciousness.

Sometimes it’s best to hold my breath while I wait for whatever instinct it is that washes over me, whenever it decides to arrive. I trust it like a guide dog. I have to believe it can see the way forward because otherwise, we’re in trouble.

I try purity; brown rice, water, greens. I try stimulants; alcohol, coffee, sugar. Each brings me fleeting moments of clarity, but not one more than the other.

A faint trilling voice interrupts. The blessing that is canine friendship grounds me to the earth again. Her needs remind me of my own. Otherwise, I’d be in danger of not ever leaving the task at hand to breath the fresh air, or listen to the birds.

I recommit to my tunnel vision with a sun salutation and a small prayer for a Muse to be attracted here. Even just for a breath. (Or is it here, hiding in the dog?)