Beacons of light pierce darkness, glowing shapes soften it, and reflections fracture, shatter, play rebel games...

If you go, you know.

There’s a place I go in the summer...

I have a dream of being underwater, suspended in a miraculous liquid emerald, with flashing fish-like beings all around...

This painting is an expression of the suspended moment­ when you come into the space and place that is precisely yours...

I grew up in Vancouver as it became a city of silver towers for postcard shots. So many summers, we flew from sidewalks...

After the tramp down, down, down steep wood and dirt stairs, beneath the cool canopy of western rainforest, the trees...

When you find yourself facing an unsparing field of flame.... There’s nothing but ruin if you turn back, and you don’t know how...

Part Wild West frontier town, part fairytale stage set, all of it a temporary, wonderful alternate reality. For a few summer days...

There is a dogwood tree in my front yard
And every May it turns me into
The envy of my street...

Settled snow reminds me to look, many times, slowly. Snow is not white; it is sapphire and mint and butter and ivory...

From the Golden Ears Bridge over the Fraser River, the view a sparkling marker that your destination is near...

Does she know that you’re looking at her looking? Is it a private moment of self-reflection or a careful show?

This is what I saw on the river, when the water facets the afternoon light in all directions, a beautiful consolation for the coming end of the day.

The sweet beginnings of a story told in colour and line. Continuation of “Lips” series.

A reflection glimmers, half-formed, barely holding shape. Copper-gold like ancient treasure...

Across the glitter of water, a searing magenta skyline bears the press of honeyed clouds...

One day, the beautiful and blasé female I’d painted suggested she was not so serene after all. And that perhaps...