March 15th to March 31st

March Fifteenth

This morning was overcast, and it was not until the late afternoon that the clouds dissipated and the sun finally began to wash the surrounding forests as the tide began to creep back up the shore. Undulating downward, an eagle with his lunch in his claws alighted to the screeches of the local gulls and calmly began to eat. Across the bay, the seal carcass has finally settled on the rocky shore.

March Sixteenth

The morning clouds were laced with pinks and purples, with a sea not yet at peace. In the harbour, some masks boobed back and forth while others maintained a ridged position. I wondered if, rather than the wind, a whale was playing with the hull or rubbing its side for relief.

March Seventeeth

This morning, a hoar frost lightly covers the stairs leading to the cove. The rising morning is clear, with low-coloured cumulus etching their colours on the peak of Vancouver Island. In the harbour, subtle colours outline the masks and trawlers’ wings. There is movement to my right, and I turn. A weather-worn aluminum 20-foot Bowen angles around that dock and heads out, the wake leaving a dance of different colours in the spume. On the other side, a woman holding a cash register tray swings past me onto the fuel dock. To a small building on the wharf with three small coverings over the pumps that extend out from the building. She carried no coffee to sip while the sun rose over the trees, lit up the masks, and then the hulls.

The Savory Taxi is very small in the distance, and the passengers will soon be at work, I imagine that inside the aluminum enclosure, they are conversing, some with coffee, others with a late breakfast they have bought before boarding and bantering.

The harbour begins to sleep in the late afternoon, and by sunset, there are only those sitting at the edge in a sundown ritual. Watching the light play on the waters and in the deep, murky water, odd whale shapes move in the silence, only detectable by the surface disturbance and the sudden bobbing of a single sailboat mast. The fuel reservoir is painted as a playground but still holds the movement of most things.

March Eighteenth

Walking one step at a time on the frosted steps to reach the truck, and sitting for a while while the defrost clears the windows, then curving back and forth around the walls of trees, the pavement undulates like a roller coaster. In the harbour the sun has once again brushed the clouds pinkish oranges and purples the sky about a cerelian blue. The water is calm as I watch from above as the morning commuters gathers on the dock the aluminium Salish 29 footer idleing in its tethered position. The safety reflections from the overcoats striking in contrast to the muted toques under the cotton hoods, it is a cold day. As they head out half way across the passage I can hear their conversation as if the were just down the way from me.

Coming back from the sunset cormorant reunion, we get the following communication: Lund Water District will be making an emergency repair to underwater water distribution main in Finn Bay from 8:30AM to 4:00pm, Wednesday March 19, effecting water service to Finn Bay, Sevilla island, Grouse Ridge Rd and Alanna Rd. Please prepare accordingly for water to be shut off during this time. So, we began to fill containers with water. This evening, wabes , and the water was calm but slightly troubled. Walking the docks, there was no one, just a boat unloading clams and the dock repair crew squeezing into a red compact

March Nineteenth

The morning began with a rush to the showers before the water was cut; every room seemed to have a pot of water just in case. Then, a wind warning came through the internet. The morning was relatively calm, and the clouds were ephemeral, but the sea had turned dark cobalt blue. The contrast announced what was coming: the heavy afternoon rain that ran into the night. Despite the rain, the eagles continued to circle and perch, taking turns feasting on what remained of the beached sea lion.

March Twentieth

Another cotton candy sky this morning in the harbour while the boats are loaded and the water taxis head out to the islands. It is cold but rapidly warms once the sun reaches over the trees and falls upon the boats in the harbour.

March Twenty-One

Today, we hung our work in the Tidal Art Centre Gallery for tomorrow’s pop-up expedition and the next day.

INTERTIDAL 2 X 2

INTERTIDAL 2 X 2 is an exhibition showcasing the works of two artists, each exploring two media: watercolour, digital imagery, lumen prints, and cyanotypes. The artists delve into the intertidal zones of Qathet, creating a body of work during their residency at the Tidal Art Centre in Lund, BC. Their art reflects a deep connection to the littoral zone, capturing the intricate relationships that support life both above and below this unique environment.

The exhibition intertwines elements of nature with abstract forms, inviting an introspective experience. Each piece features a detail that captures the essence of the landscapes. “Solitude’s Edge,” for instance, features dramatic skies and intricately rendered rocky outcrops, while works such as “Ethereal Geometry” and “Saffron Oak Resonance: Blue Radiance” navigate the intersection between organic forms and abstraction. This dialogue between reality and imagination fosters multiple avenues for viewer engagement.

The colour palette throughout the exhibition is vibrant and diverse, characterized by bold contrasts and subtle transitions. Blue holds a significant role, appearing in various contexts—from the ocean waves in “Solitude’s Edge” to the striking backgrounds in “Saffron Oak Resonance: Blue Radiance.” This cohesive colour narrative enhances the overall mood of the collection. Furthermore, the inventive use of purple in “Tidal Greens,” coupled with the fluid transitions in “Saffron Oak Resonance,” further accentuates the deliberate juxtaposition of colours.

By incorporating elements of nature from diverse perspectives and exploring the dynamics of solidity and fluidity, these artworks prompt reflection on human connections to the natural world. Through their exploration of beauty and complexity in nature, the pieces encourage both personal reflection and a collective appreciation for the environment.

Phyllis Schwartz and Edward Peck, 20 March 2025

IN BETWEEN

I have been drawn to the intertidal zone for many years. It is the space where the two worlds meet, creating a dynamic interplay of creativity and rapid transitions. This environment is marked by intense relationships with life and death. The raw rocks, stripped of their coverings, undergo geological changes more swiftly and reveal their history. Their colours, derived from heavily compressed organic materials, blend with the organic substances of the littoral zone and are interspersed with pitch-black volcanic fissures.

We are attracted to these places because of their intensity and vibrant biological diversity. Is it the change and renewal, the constant fluctuations, or the steadily undulating waves next to the dancing of the firs that captivate us? The intertidal zone is a place of both rejuvenation and decay.

The intertidal zone, a threshold of existence, invites contemplation of life’s dualities. Here, one witnesses the delicate balance between creation and dissolution, a reminder that beauty often arises from impermanence. As the tides ebb and flow, they whisper secrets of resilience and transformation, urging us to embrace the cycle of renewal. In this liminal space, we find not only the essence of nature’s artistry but also reflections of our own journeys—where every wave carries the promise of change, and every retreat speaks to the lessons of letting go. Thus, the intertidal zone captivates our spirits, urging us to explore the depths of our connection to the world.

Edward Peck, 20 March 2025

Life Drawing

My work is deeply inspired by the pioneering works of Anna Atkins, a Victorian botanist known for her cameraless photography, and William Henry Fox Talbot, whose Pencil of Nature remains a monumental contribution to photographic history. Their groundbreaking efforts in documenting the natural world resonate in my exploration of analogue and experimental photography.

Life Drawing, the exhibition represents my continuing conversation with the natural environment and examines the intricate relationship between art and nature. My creative process is anchored by a profound connection to a sense of place, cultivated through carefully observing botanicals. The organic world acts as both a guide and muse, shaping my artistic vision and approach. My technique mirrors the innovative spirit of Atkins and Talbot—a continuous cycle of experimentation and discovery.

Pareidolia in artwork encourages  viewers to perceive the world from a fresh perspective, allowing beauty to emerge from abstract and minimalist forms. By remaining open to chance, I welcome the unexpected within my compositions, infusing them with colour and vitality.

My image-making process brings the botanical readymade to life, narrating stories through the unpredictable nature of materials on paper. Sometimes the botanicals dance. Sometimes they pose for the camera. Sometimes they dramatize their story.

Through dedicated practice and the guidance of mentors, each piece in Life Drawing becomes a journey into form and narrative. I invite you to join me, as each creation tells a story originating from the natural world, waiting to be discovered.

Phyllis Schwartz, 20 March 2025

March Twenty-Second

The gallery opened at one today, and a steady stream of people came to take in the artwork. There are many great art discussions about the work, the meaning behind the process, and the work itself. There were also great discussions with other artists about direction, themes, meaning and expression techniques. I was glad that everyone did not come at once as this meant the conversations were deeper and more meaning full

Unfortunately, the photography and painting in the morning got disrupted, so I had to fall back on a quick painting where I was experimenting and basically partially completed the piece. While photographing in the morning, there was a lot of frost and some very slippery dockside situations, which limited where I could go and the photography. The clouds were quite a bit more dramatic,, so it was a little disappointing to be limited in what I could do. It is interesting how significantly the day’s change in rhythm can impact one’s creative possibilities. One thing is sure: both the painting and the photographing process is a flow process that involves a type of concentration that is easy to disturb. Perhaps that is a positive takeaway for the day, becoming more aware of the nature of the process.

March Twenty-third

The morning was very wet, and I had to gear up to go out in the heavy drizzle. The rocks were covered with a wash that made the colour more intense, as nothing was dry.

March Twenty-Fourth

The morning, a misty drizzle with still water only disturbed by the idling motor of the water taxi, the Gititdun docked this morning and then in a huddle by the dock discussions over coffee before being the day. Across the way, a lone figure in the corner contemplates the view over coffee in Nancy’s Bakery.

March Twenty-fifth

There is a mist, and as I drive, the wipers are triggered constantly; it is the inside of a cloud, no rain is falling. Reaching the intersection, there is a rush of cars toward the docks, where they spill out with in their rain gear, with coffee and equipment. The plastic equipment boxes are stacked onto dollies and rolled down the gangway, while others wheel their load in a wheelbarrow. Leaning on the rail under an overhang, taking in the scene, smoke wafting up a lone figure thick with waterproofing. He nods his greeting, turns, and looks out over the harbour where there is no horizon. The water is still and dark cobalt, then merging with the sky with hints of a cobalt teal.

March Twenty-Sixth

It is a much clearer morning, and I am arriving at the harbour. Fishing boats are already heading out, and the Navy is coming in for some special supplies. There is the occasional rush of trucks bringing supplies to the launches. There are men on the dock struggling with the repairs and others lugging large plastic waterproof containers with both hands to waiting boats. Behind me, a diesel truck is idling, as the driver sips the last of his coffee before heading for the water taxi. The early morning crowd, after coffee, is leaving Nancy’s Bakery.

March Twenty-Seventh

The rain last night was intense, and it was just beginning to let up this morning. This morning, the water taxi set off in a different direction, full of passengers, passing the aluminium landing craft waiting patiently at the fuel dock. The colours again intensified by the wash of rain over everything. In the distance, the snow cover of the mountains was visible. On the water, the rain patterned the surface.

March Twenty-eighth

I was later to the harbour this morning when the Giderdun was unloading rather than loading, coming off the islands. At the fuel, a tugboat refuelling,g and the pouring rain I woke up to had cleared, but dark clouds were gathering around the sun.

March Twenty-ninth

There was light rain this morning, and the eagle family is scattered outside in the branches and boughs. Waiting to feed, and eyeing the cove, they seem either content or somewhat sure of the remains of the dead seal. A meal, perhaps they are contemplating, or are they standing guard? Screeching conversations erupt from the trees periodically, then one launches into the air, gliding, and descends to the beach. The seal surfaces in the bay, turns his head alert to what might be present, breathing slowly before disappearing beneath the surface.

Then, from behind me, one after another, with arched wings gliding, four crows pass over the crowns of the trees and circle into the cove. As they assess the opportunity, they alight not far from the feeding eagle and begin their usual prancing movements.

It is a wrap…