Art and War(planes)

In this artist residency at Ricklundgarden in Southern Lapland, I've been writing a lot and painting and the days pass in a dreamy state of creativity. It's a disorienting place for the quiet and the beauty and the endless daylight. The sun rises shortly after 3am but it's never really dark so my body is unsure what time it is. It can't form a rhythm. And in that disorientation, I feel I'm moving as though in slow motion through another world where there is no time. I paint, I write and I sit dreamily watching the clouds slowly glide across the rounded snow-covered mountains beyond the lake outside my window.

This is such a silent place. Even though I live in the countryside in Ontario, this is a more silent silence. I am moving into it. Yesterday morning the sky was grey with heavy low rain clouds. I was painting in my studio when all of a sudden, a loud booming, rumbling sound came from the sky. I ran outside to see what it was. I couldn't see anything. If it was thunder, it was much longer in duration than normal, or if it was an airplane, it was much louder and longer also. The sound finally died away and I returned to my studio, puzzled, but thinking it must have been a low-flying airplane.

I forgot about the incident.

In the afternoon, my friend and fellow artist resident, Rebecca Crowell, and I got a ride with the local taxi/school bus service out to Fatmomakke, an ancient Sami gathering site about 25km north west of Saxnas. We spent part of the afternoon at this site where Samis have gathered since prehistoric times to meet with their family and friends to trade and to celebrate. They met at mid-summer (solstice), and again in late August before the winter came. In the 1700's missionaries moved into Sami territory and eventually a church was built at Fatmomakke. While I don't know the history of that transition and the struggles involved, in the end, the Swedes and the Samis came together, each building their own style of dwelling, kåtor and log cabins, side by side. They come together to celebrate mid-summer and live in peace.

I learned on the drive home from Fatmomakke, that the sounds I heard in the sky were NATO fighter planes. The news on the internet said that Russian President Vladimir Putin had ordered four days of air combat readiness testing, the third major military exercise staged by the Kremlin in the past three months. This surprise test coincided with NATO-led military exercises over the Arctic region that are part of the Western alliance's response to Russia's stepped-up manoeuvres over the Baltic and Northern European regions.

A flexing of muscles. The silence and beauty and tranquility of this remote region feels violated.

I think of the day we just had in the small village of Fatmomakke. I think of the peaceful coexistence of the Samis and the Swedes and how they continue every year to meet there to celebrate the seasons together.

The warplanes have brought me back to earth very quickly. I feel helplessly small in this military display of strength. But it also makes me feel more determined than ever to do my small part to bring beauty, joy and peace into this world through my art.

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

The Importance of Silence in Art

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

Lessons that Stone Walls Teach

Dry stone wall in the Burren, Co. Clare, Ireland I've just returned from teaching a Workshop in Wild Places class in the Burren in County Clare, Ireland. Writing this post, I'm reminded of another post I wrote after visiting Inishmaan, the middle of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland several years ago. Stone walls crisscrossed the island in tight webs like a fisherman's net. I wrote then that the web of stone walls made me think of the idea of putting limitations on our painting as a way of exploring more deeply and how walls give limits against the limitless. You can read that article here. As our group hiked in the Burren with our guide, Marie McGauran we learned that the walls are stronger because of the holes in them. The wind can pass through. The oldest stone walls, estimated to be 3500 years old are at Skara Brae, a Neolithic site in Orkney. Most walls were built in the 18th and 19th century, marking areas of private ownership and resulting in poverty

Janice Mason Steeves

Search This Blog