Saturday, 15 July 2017


The river receded but only a little, and then the rain started. It felt positively biblical. I could have easily chosen a beautiful pair of egrets for the ark....ark? What ark? We didn't have one! Yikes! 

Previous owners felt this house was boat-like and decorated the bedroom accordingly. Talk about taunting the gods. 

I tried to move a few sandbags but the suckers were way too heavy. I'm convinced sandbags are filled with wet sand. To add insult to injury, red ants made their home in one of the bags that happened to have a tiny hole. They are vicious biters and had a field day on my arm. The itch became far worse in the following days. The welts were tolerable on day one, but on day two and three, I wanted to amputate my arm.

I went to good old Walmart and purchased a pair of snazzy rubber boots in order to wade through the water. What can I say? A funky fashion statement helps me cope. 

On May 4th, employees from Vaudreuil-Dorion Public Works delivered and installed more sandbags.

Here is a video of what things looked and sounded like on May 6th...


...and then things got much worse. 

Water flowed over the sandbags and filled the crawl space to river level. 

Our little step ladder to descend into the crawl space (aka the netherworld)  was covered in water

Our pool disappeared under the swelling waterway. The pumps no longer sufficed.  

Frantic, I called the emergency flood number and a troop of firefighters soon arrived. When they saw our situation they called in the fire chief. He checked things out and said it was time for us to leave.

The chief was worried that the water in the crawl space could eventually reach the electrical boxes and wires attached to the ceiling. We were shown the magic switch that turns off all electrical power in the house. The firefighters helped us move some heavy furniture to slightly higher ground and we piled our belongings one on top of the other to weigh them down. Even heavy things float in a flood. Friends kindly took some of my recent artwork and our important papers for temporary storage in their homes. 

Things piled in my studio
May 7th the day we evacuated

May 8th
We added more sandbags at a side entrance, packed our things, turned off the main electrical switch, locked up, and left with heavy hearts. Many roads were flooded and we had to navigate back streets to make it out of town. We were gone for four nights (that's another story) but returned to the house daily to check the water level in the crawl space. The rain finally started to let up. The main floor was safe.

We felt lost and shocked, unsure of what to do next.  

Digital sketch drawn after our first night away from home

We returned home on May 11th but couldn't do much. I lit a fire in the wood burning stove and sat in an outdoor Adirondak chair in the family room. I watched the flames and imagined I was a prehistoric human living in a cave. We were still surrounded by ocean sounds. A muskrat clambered out of the pool. Our crawl space was still filled with water. Slowly, oh so slowly, the water receded a little. I brought a loveseat into the family room (the driest room in the house thanks to the fire) and slept on that for a few days. My legs hung over the edge but I put a poof at the end of it and managed to stretch out. I couldn't bring myself to sleep anywhere else because of the dampness. 

Repercussions are still ongoing.  More to soon as I muster up more energy.

Wednesday, 14 June 2017


April 8th
I haven't had the energy to blog over the last few weeks. La rivière des Outaouais (Ottawa River) decided to tickle our toes, literally, and we used up most of our stamina trying to cope with what could have been a much worse disaster than in our case, it turned out to be.  

The Flood:

It all started out innocently enough. 

Most years, the water comes up to the tree in the middle of the yard which is about twenty feet from the edge of the property. Previous owners told us that this happens every Spring but added that because of a super duper dam regulating water flow in Carillon, cresting was now under control. No water penetrated the house during the 9 years that they lived here and we felt this was a positive trend that would likely continue (we were wrong!) 

Each Spring, my partner Mart monitors a graph that tells us whether water levels are rising or decreasing. This time the deities played with our nerves a bit. Levels rose higher than normal, surpassing those that we'd previously experienced. For the first time since our move here (5 years ago), we actually had a bit of water in the crawl space. The water table was saturated. Walking on land fronting the river was like sloshing on a sponge. 

April 18th (way past the tree)

The Department of Public Works brought us a highly effective pump for the crawl space and put a few sandbags down to protect the property...just in case. 

A few sandbags

The plastic bins in our netherworld contained a few of our belongings. We checked them out, one had lost its label. We assumed this one was like the others, mainly filled with cans of leftover paint or surplus dishes and cups...nothing especially important (wrong assumption!!!). We brought bins containing important papers up to the main floor just in case something untoward were to happen. I had a nagging sense of foreboding, something in the air felt amiss.

I generally try and look for the positive side in every situation even when it isn't obvious that there is one. With the rising waters came wildlife. They edged closer to the house which allowed us, with our feeble equipment, to take better pictures. 

An egret paid us a visit. It was stunning, both at night and during the day. Beasties were unaware of boundaries, totally confused. Some children in the neighbourhood saw a befuddled beaver roaming the streets and kindly escorted it back to the river. Someone else posted a picture on Facebook of a fox whipping down a main road. These wondrous occurrences became the new normal. We were living in a National Geographic miniseries.

Egret - April 29th

May 2nd

Rain, rain and more rain. The river never had a chance to recede. Our house felt like ship on the ocean (with stabilizers). The situation was becoming dire and nerve-wracking. Waves were big and noisy.  An ark, we needed an ark, FAST.....

Tuesday, 25 April 2017


Malls are busy places. Thousands saunter through the crowded shops as a diversion, some rush through to get what they want in a hurry, others take the time to sit and observe a parade of cultures, meet for a chat and coffee or throw money into the wish fountain.  Children holler for gelato, popcorn, or some special toy.

No one comes expecting to view art.

Claudine Ascher, curator/artist saw an opportunity in one of our busiest malls, Fairview Pointe Claire. She noticed an empty store that had everything an art show requires, bleached metallic grids on every white wall (no nails required), amazing lighting, and a beautiful hardwood floor. She approached the powers that be to see if her idea could become a reality and managed to rent the space for one month. Her philosophy? If you don't try, you don't get.

SHE GOT!!!  Ascher makes things happen. 

She had only one week to get things organized. She also had to have a sign made according to the mall's specifications.  Simple but elegant, here is L'ART CHEZ SOI (ART AT HOME).

The space on April 8th before we opened the doors.

Approximately 1000 people visited during the vernissage.

The 8 works works per artist are varied in style and beautifully hung. The viewer's eye seamlessly flows from one artist's work to the other. The reaction to this "hit and run" event has been overwhelmingly positive. Visitors tell us how refreshing it is to have this kind of experience within the confines of a mall. Ascher has managed to bring art to all, no small feat.

An event not to be missed!
This exceptional show runs until this Friday, April 28th. We look forward to your visit!

Sunday, 2 April 2017


I had two openings this month: the first was for the 6th Drawing Biennale (6è Biennale du dessin) at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Mont-St-Hilaire. Drawing biennales are few and far between, in fact this is a singular event in Canada. I love to draw and was thankful to be chosen along with 16 other artists. 

The theme of the show is Chimère (Chimera). The Musée printed up a catalogue with accompanying texts by Julien Lavoie who curated the show. What follows is a rough translation (French to English) of what he wrote about my work. 

Section II    Chimera of Time

Diane Collet | Portraits frozen in time 

The imprint of time, the traces of its passage on bodies as they appear in the Ruins of Diane Collet, is an inevitability that affects both nations and individuals.

Chimeras of time are tenacious; in addition to weighing down bodies, they torment the mind and erect the heyday boom years of youth in the golden age.

The Italian Renaissance for example, found  a kind of cultural ideal in antiquity that could be reinterpreted and revived as the flavour of the day.

It is by drawing from the ruins of ancient times and by learning aesthetic concepts as defined by Greek philosophers that remarkable works like those of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael, symbols of the attainment of genius by a people, were made possible.

Finding ruins is certainly more difficult and less exciting than the idea of a rebirth.  

In this series of drawings which have aging as their theme, Diane Collet writes: "These drawings are self-portraits transformed by merging my features with those of statues or prehistoric objects." Her face is found among crippled Doric columns and statues in a pitiful state.  Bordering on caricature, the face presents a pathetic expression, which is not devoid of this "somewhat disconcerting" humour that one finds with Collet.

La Lupa
In La Lupa's bewitching eye, we perceive a background of mystery and mischief without really knowing what is hidden there.

In this instance, the arrogance of a young seductress speaks through a representation that the viewer catches in passing, as one perceives a lost gaze in the midst of a crowd.

Knowing that La Lupa is a vengeful and murderous femme fatale taken from a novella by Giovanni Verga and made into a feature film by Gabriele Lavia, we edge nearer to the mystery surrounding this portrait, whose setting, chosen by the artist, recalls portraits of criminals sketched at the exits of courthouses.

Ruins and La Lupa share the same depths of darkness and the resulting images are intercrossed by instinctive undercurrents that Collet crystallizes into ephemeral insights and fleeting impressions.

From there to suggest that these moments of transfiguration seized by the artist are times when reality is suddenly highjacked, revealing a being surprised in her full truth, and who transcends time to embody a universal emotion, and only part of the story.

I really don't think my translation did this text justice but the gist is there. The catalogue is available at the Musée.

People reacted very positively to the show. The Musée's space is theatrical, lights hover over the artwork and the effect is magical. Here are a few photos of the event.

Shimmering sign at the entrance of the show
With La Lupa and Ruins

Part of the installation - great turnout!
Participating artists

The Biennale runs until the 30th of April 2017 and is well worth the visit.

I also participated in the Dollard Centre for the Arts Faculty Exhibition "Guiding Lights" at the Galerie de la Ville. This yearly event is a wonderful opportunity for teachers and students alike to appreciate the practice of the teaching artists. I decided to exhibit a selection of what I've been doing lately including a couple of drawings, a painting and a digital print. 

Guiding Lights Exhibition
Works from left to right:  Sacred Talons, Bad Pea Soup Blacks London,
The More Things Change, & Prometheus

This show runs until April 23rd. More information is in press release below.

March was an exciting month and another interesting, special event is coming up in April.  Stay tuned!

Saturday, 11 March 2017


On the morning of February 26th, I schlepped off to the Ecomuseum in Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue to draw with the (Sub)Urban Sketchers. The zoo is a wonderful place with animal species exclusively from Québec.  

When I drove into the parking lot, I was surprised at the number of cars that were already there on an early Sunday morn.  

"What a busy place, whoda thunk"? I mused.  

Last time I visited the museum was quite a few years ago. I must have gone on a week day because on this occasion I was in for a bit of a shock. Lots of parents come with their children for this perfect learning activity. The zoo isn't big and that is part of its charm....BUT...and it's a big BUT, Sunday mornings is not a good time to go and sketch. I quickly ascertained that my drawings would have to be quickies because wild kids kept screaming and running around me. 

I don't recall my children having been quite that loud and rambunctious when I took them on outings. I was exhausted in no time.

While inside, I managed to draw turtles and a couple of snakes but I thought it might be more pleasant and quiet outdoors. 

It was but unfortunately also incredibly cold. I wore gloves that had the fingers cut off at the ends so I was perhaps better prepared than the others to draw in these conditions but again, it soon became obvious that the drawings would have to be quick.  I had to warm up the tips of my fingers at regular intervals.

This was a second outing for the (Sub)Urban Sketchers and a somewhat challenging one, although freezing fingers and screaming kids are all part of the onsite sketching experience. It trains artists to draw under all types of conditions. I'm slowly learning which materials to bring depending on weather conditions and environmental noise.

I will definitely go back when it's warmer to draw more birds of prey. I love their expressions, they just seem so incredibly annoyed with the world...wonder if they watch the latest breaking news on CNN?

Monday, 27 February 2017


Some things never change. 

I visit my 102-year-old-mom at the seniors residence where she lives on a regular basis. I get a feel for the place by observing the goings on. 

My mom is happy there most likely because she is free of responsibility. There are no meals to make, dishes to wash, nor is there dirty laundry to sort. Finally. 

Born in 1914 on a farm, mom lost her mother at a very young age and as a result, was expected to participate in housecleaning, meal preparation and the care of two younger siblings. She hated fetching the milk cow in the field at the end of the day. Afraid that she might run into "des hommes chaud" (drunk men), she avoided all possible encounters by hiding behind shrubs and bushes on her way to find the cowMom decided early on that she had to marry someone from the city. 

But back to the residence. My mother is an introvert and keeps her interaction with the human race (other residents) to a minimum. The door to her room remains open much of the time. When she isn't sleeping, she observes residents and staff who walk by in much the same way as she might view a parade of clowns. Her philosophy? Watch but don't mix.

I always had trouble relating to her approach but it might be wise in some respects. A seniors residence is a little microcosm of society much like high school. My experience with the latter wasn't particularly positive so naturally, I dread reliving a repeat performance (in the event that I live to be that old).

From my mom's room, I can easily hear what is happening in the common area. Sometimes all is quiet, at other times there are "fun" activities for the residents. I think there's something called a monkey toss....I daren't ask.

Once I overheard heard an argument between resident 1 & 2 that went something like this:

#1:  "Where's my paper?
#2:  "I don't have your paper.
#1:  "Yes you do, I saw you walk away with it."
#2:  "That was my paper."
#1:  "No it wasn't. You don't get the paper delivered anymore."
#2:  "Yes I do."
#1:  "No you don't. You stopped it. That was my paper. Go and get my paper in your 
#2:  "No that's my paper."
#1:  "No it isn't you old bird. You look like an old bird."

Taking into consideration that residents are often confused, it stands to reason that clashes occur, but what I found particularly juvenile was the name calling. Will we all regress? I've heard that older folk don't care about niceties anymore. Maybe everyone buries their frustrations for ninety years until the pressure cooker pops and real little monsters emerge. 

I'd better have my sketch pad ready.

Tuesday, 7 February 2017


Claudine Ascher
Claudine Ascher is one of the most accomplished individuals I know, gifted in so many respects. It's easy to draft a list of positive attributes to describe her: intelligent, assertive, fearless, dedicated, kind and extremely creative.

As a gallery curator and educator, she has made significant contributions to many an art career, but as an artist, she never ceases to astonish and inspire. Her singular skill as a clay sculptor / draughtsperson coupled with an innate penchant for the phantasmagorical alter our perceptions of reality. We are compelled to burrow through the wormhole of her imagination to arrive, emotionally altered, at some unexpected destination.

Ascher's background in theatre, design, fiction writing and dance feeds her creative process. Notably through the latter, she reveals her exhaustive knowledge of the human body, shows us how it moves and interacts within a three-dimensional environment. 

I've seen Ascher's sculptures and drawings in various settings over the years but the mise en scene at Le Musée des Maîtres et Artisans du Québec is a perfect backdrop for her work. The space brings out the stunning beauty and subtleties of each piece. Formerly, the Musée was a Neo-gothic Presbyterian church which went through a couple of transformations, from Catholic chapel to the singular museum of today. The magnificent never-ending dark wooden trusses, large stained-glass windows and artefacts relay the building's history and spiritual traditions. 

Clay is a naturally-occuring, organic, building material as is wood.  The "communion" of clay sculpture, unframed drawings and wooden beams in this otherworldly space is breathtaking. They were made for each other.

Ascher's work is largely autobiographical yet universal. Born in Egypt, her early childhood was spent in Brazil after which she immigrated with her family to Canada. She coped with the deep-rooted struggles that come with adolescent displacement. There is way more to resettlement than merely learning a new language and customs. Introspection inevitably comes with the territory.

Falling angels greet us on each side of the space. They sit or flop on clay clouds.  Who but Ascher would even think of making clouds out of clay? "The Bomb" and "The Belly Flop" refer to the fallen angels of literary fiction but these are not unhappy sinners cast out from heaven. They are women who seem to be enjoying the fall. Ascher puts a new whimsical spin on a well-known tale which invites deeper reflection. Shall we give into temptation?  The answer is a resounding yes!

Falling Angel:  The Bomb (2 parts)
Falling Angel:  The Belly Flop (2 parts)
Ascher loves a challenge and this is evident in her mastery of trompe l'oeil. All that she creates, tools, furniture, clothing and more look deceptively real. But it's all an illusion. "If Narcissus Could See Me Now" is an incredibly fragile vanity made of clay. Lipsticks, creams, perfumes and other cosmetics/tools peddled to improve the appearance of women float in the choppy seas of the dressing table's surface, while in the mirror, a hand reaches out of the water. Someone is drowning. A lonely dress shoe, also in clay, lies discarded on the floor.  Emotional turmoil surfaces as we unwittingly peel the impassioned layers that haunt the work.  

This powerful sculpture is nearly life-size, 44” high, 24” wide, 12” deep and coloration is achieved exclusively though glazing.

If Narcissus Could See Me Now (7 parts)

"Autobiography" below is a phenomenal pièce de résistance. Books, an old-fashioned dial phone and slides (remember those?), a lamp, binder, paper, pens, stamps, file folders, partly used paint tubes, a desk and chair as well as other sundry objects that describe an artist's career all seem authentic. The scale of the work is impressive when one considers the size of the average oven used to fire ceramic sculpture.  

I'm tempted to pick up a sheet of paper until the realization hits!  This thin slab is made of clay.  52 elements combine to create the illusion that someone has just stepped out to get a cup of coffee.

Autobiography (52 parts)

Many of us live with some kind of elephant in the room defined as an obvious problem or difficult situation that no one wants to talk about. Ascher creates a powerful visual metaphor by juxtaposing large, delicate drawings of three elephants on a folding panel against a small ceramic sculpture of a young girl's dress perched on a transparent plexiglas podium. A tiny pair of shoes is placed underneath the dress on a smaller white podium recalling the proportions of a child that cannot be seen.  Perhaps the invisible little girl resides in all of us. I feel like Munch's "Scream".

The Elephant in the Room

To say that all the works in this show are compelling is an understatement. In the "Waiting Room" below, a series of chairs acquires human attributes. 

I relate to these works at a very fundamental level. Waiting is a national pastime in Québec, especially when dealing with the medical system. The sick and weary wait, and wait, and wait, until they are permanently glued to their respective chairs. When names are finally called, body parts rip off the core and are left behind. Humanity remains permanently mutilated in a world devoid of respect.

Waiting Room

Ascher adds to the visual experience of this exhibition via bilingual (French and English) poems/prose which accompany some of the tonal works.  Her writings about the "Waiting Room" are revealing:

All that waiting, all that not knowing,
all those moments suspended in time,
neither here nor there.
It’s a process, after all.

There is a moment when substance and spirit align,
When where feet tread, and what hands touched
Matter more than the not.

Tout ce temps passé à attendre
Toute cette incertitude 
Tous ses moments passés suspendus 
Ni ici, ni là-bas.
C’est un processus après tout.

Il y a un moment quand le corps 
et l’esprit s’alignent
quand la où les pieds sont passés 
et ce que les mains ont touchés
sont plus réels que le rien.

"Insomnia" below is one of the works in the grouping above. I am reminded of a famous quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet : “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” 

...but Ascher's insomnia asks "Are we ever truly awake?"


There is a difference between 
sleep and wakefulness?

Am I awake now?


Y a-till une différence entre 
le sommeil et le réveil?

Suis-je réveillé maintenant?


Claudine Ascher shares intimate stories that pinch a universal nerve. The power of the work lies in its vulnerability and compels us to look within ourselves. 

This exceptional exhibition runs until the 26th of February 2017 and is an event that should not be missed.