Teaching Cold Wax and Oil Workshops in Western Canada

I've just returned from a full month away. I've been teaching workshops in cold wax medium and oil in Winnipeg, Vancouver and Salmon Arm, BC, putting into practice all that I've learned this long winter when I was unable to paint because of my broken wrist. I've learned lessons on analyzing paintings and teaching how to see and formulate a vocabulary to begin to talk about art.

There seems to be a pattern in the workshops. Sometime during the first day, Chaos descends. At least for most people. I don't know how it happens, but I see it more regularly the longer I teach. Usually she lands sometime in the first afternoon. People who are used to making things..paintings or sculptures, who normally can find a way to use materials to create, at least, the beginning of something, seem to lose their way. They become frustrated with themselves, often ending up with thick muddy textures. I suggest they paint quickly and work on many panels at once, so that none of the panels becomes too important. However, the mad lady, Chaos still seems to descend.

The American Psychologist Carl Rogers said that, "Transformation occurs when we lose our way and find a new way to return".

On the morning of the second day, I try to have a short talk about Chaos (and transformation) and how to welcome her as a teacher--someone who takes you into a frustrating place and shakes you about, turning all your thoughts and ideas upside down. You have to find the way out on your own. I can help to some extent, but the joy (in the end) comes from finding your own way out. Sometimes it happens during the workshop, but often it doesn't happen until you get home and do some serious work.

Deborah Bakos, one of the artists in my Vancouver workshop writes a blog for the Vancouver Sun. She wrote a fabulous article about her experience of chaos and process in our painting class last week. You can read it here:

"You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star". Friedrich Nietzsche

Winnipeg class

Vancouver class

Salmon Arm Class

Meet the Owners of a Scottish Castle

Anne Tristine Nguyen, Ali Orr Ewing, their children, Ava, Atticus and their dog, Harriet Beecher Stowe. Dunskey Estate, Portpatrick, Scotland Anne Tristine Nguyen and her husband, Alistair Orr Ewing are the owners of Dunskey Estate near Portpatrick, Scotland where I will teach a painting workshop in September. Dunskey is a splendid Edwardian castle on 2000 acres of ocean-front land with miles of walking trails. As well as daily workshop sessions in the studio on the top floor of the castle, our small group of artists will enjoy breathtaking hikes, superb accommodation and fabulous meals. Not having met owners of a castle before, I asked Anne if I could interview her to hear a little of their background story and that of the castle. Can you tell me a little of your personal story and that of your husband, Alistair Orr Ewing? Anne emigrated to America when she was ten years old, but it was at an art gallery in Saigon, her birthplace, where she met Al

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Gathering Light 60x60" Oil on canvas © 2014 Janice Mason Steeves Michael David Rosenberg, the musician known as Passenger, sings, "See all I need is a whisper in a world that only shouts." In the workshops I teach, I find that one of the most common problems with paintings is that they shout. Most have too much going on: too many small shapes, too much texture, extremes of colour, too many lines, too much, too much. One thing I say most often as I walk around the classroom working with students individually, is 'make bigger shapes'. But not only bigger shapes. Quiet shapes. Where can your eye go and rest in the painting? That isn't a consideration in much of contemporary painting or much of contemporary life. Ours is a noisy world both visually and auditorily. Ours is a world that shouts. People are afraid of silence. I wrote a blog post 3 years ago about planning a retreat in my own home, where I shut off the computer and the phon

Liminal Time

The word liminal comes from the Latin, limen meaning threshold. an in-between place, a place of transition, a time of waiting and not knowing. Dawn and dusk are considered liminal places. Crepuscular animals, like foxes and coyotes are most active at this time of day, a time that is considered a magical time in Celtic spirituality and to Indigenous people which is perhaps the origin of their designation as tricksters. As I write this, the northern hemisphere has just passed the vernal equinox, where day and night are of equal length.We are in a liminal space between winter and spring right now, unsure if we will have one more storm or snowfall before spring finally settles in. We're also in a liminal place as we live through this pandemic with the anxiety and discomfort of not knowing. A time of great transition for the entire world, wondering what we've learned from this and what lessons we'll carry forward. Author and Franciscan friar Richard Rohr describes limi

Janice Mason Steeves

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