Hip Young Things

When I made the choice to move to vancouver island , it was a decision I based on two people who had influence my life. The first person, was my father. He was born and raised in Seattle, Washington. I had been there once, or so I was told as I was too young to remember it. But the way that he spoke about the Pacific Northwest…in the middle of a summer in Phoenix, just made me wish that I was there.

There are many beautiful cities in Canada to consider moving to toronto , Montreal, Ottawa…but I wanted Vancouver. The second person, who played a role, in seconding my opinion, was an artist who owned a house on the island. I had seen her photographs of ship yards, of the long white masts pointing to the blue and grays of the sky, all the while back-dropped by the mountains and water…both of which were equally blue and gray. I listened to her stories of nights spent having a bit of wine and talking with the locals. I thought about this and knew that I was kind of over, for the time being, the reds and oranges and the white hot heat of the Arizona desert. I needed something completely different.

I needed a new apartment , I needed new air to breath, and I needed new things to see. See, I’m a painter too, and what we see every day, for some reason, affects how we feel every day. Like picasso in his blue period , I was needing some blue. And I wanted to be in a town, where the locals actually talked with one another. A place where sending a text about having coffee, seemed a ridiculous alternative to just having coffee. It is a very good thing, to take oneself out of the day to day, familiar environment from time to time. To see not only what you discover, but what in turn…just happens to discover you.

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