This is the image in my mind today.
The little girl with the purple piece of ice.
And those little eyes peeking out over the top.
Excited about her discovery.



She's what I'm keeping my mind's eye. Innocence, open to excitement. The world promised at her perfect feet. A frozen painting in her gloves. Just minutes to explore and appreciate it before it melts.

It's from last year's exhibit, from January 20th at www.paintingsbelowzero.blogspot.com So in a sense it's already had it's moment. My moment, is to hold it. To keep me on track.



The world we all share is a pell mell future of unexpected possibilities. Not enough cold, and the polar bears don't have a glacier strong enough to hold the weight of their bodies. Penguins don't have the firm ice they migrated to last year to bear their calves. The tree in my backyard crashes to the ground from heavy snow fallen too early. How many species in the wrong place at a different time? Blooming when it's time to go dormant? Global Warming, the elephant in the room on our beloved planet, that's what it is. In Wine Country, the cold is not enough to seduce luscious Ice Wine from the grapes. Things are a little tighter this year. Like all of us, this is still okay. We're upbeat even - but on the edge. Because we just don't know how much change we can handle.



As artists, we've been exploring this idea through our art. And most recently, we've been planning a big exhibit there. Paintings Below Zero. Ephemeral work present only as long as the temperature can hold onto it. An odd concept perhaps, but we're about to go out the door with it. We're hurtling ourselves into a tunnel of activity - pouring paint, freezing ice, melting and morphing it together -- press openings, schedules, an unveiling with lights -- new people to work with. Plane tickets and meetings. Wine, laughter, a headache. Hockey on outdoor ice. Maybe (!) under the moonlight.

And this, the best, the thing we live for as artists -- a forum for new work. For a singer, it's new songs. A comedian, new jokes. A playwright -- a new character! For Gord Halloran, it's new techniques, new Messing About, exploring the frontier of frozen paintings. We've got some surprises in store. Yes, we do!



But at today's end, an unexpected wrinkle in the works. Because of what's happening everywhere in the world, because the weather is warmer. The trickle down means that today we have to come to a screeching halt and take our hands out of our pockets and come up with something new, if necessary, to re-invent what we've worked so hard to bring to the people of Niagara-on-the-Lake. It's all in my Forbidden File, the thick one which I call, "Things that cannot be said". So I can't say it, but it threatens.

We've put ourselves here and we're ready to stand by it, to take our knocks if someone doesn't like our creation. We hope the most beautiful painting doesn't fracture and break before anyone can see it, before we hear their, "Wow!" their "Amazing!" Before we can feel the silence of their listening to something they've never experienced before.



So her face is what I'm keeping in my mind today. Her little girl awe. To focus me. On the present. Right now, right here. Because, in spite of any setback, we're still lucky. Where I live, it's still a beautiful world.

Frozen paintings come home

The blink of an eyelid and it’s dinnertime. A year later! The Turin Olympics are over, we've been home for the summer and now we’re heading out again. Air flights reserved, e-advertising for someone to stay at our home with our kitties. Christmas around the corner. A reunion with our Italy-Turin-Fenestrelle crew! This time two installations! No church, no windy Alpine road to a fortress atop a mountain, but, we hope, lots of snow and hockey.



Niagara-on-the-Lake and Nathan Phillips Square, Toronto.To create ephemeral paintings in ice designed by Gord Halloran, the maestro of sparkling abstract Below Zero colour. But first, a taste of winter on the west coast.



That’s our backyard, and that aging alder fell parallel to the house. We were at The Gumboot, sitting out a power outage, so who knows if the tree made a sound when it came crashing down.

I hear the City of Toronto is Wi Fi friendly. No need for an hour long bus trip up treacherous, icy roads -- just for internet contact with the world. Sestriere was beautiful, but I'll be happy in the lobby at The Sheraton with my laptop and a latte. Whoooo hooo!

In Niagara-on-the-Lake, we’ll be creating paintings outdoors, (using Gord’s re fit refrigeration plates) on the terrace at the Shaw Festival Theatre. Sponsored by The Niagara Grape & Wine Festival. And next door, inside, we’ll display an exhibit of giclé prints. These are the permanent artwork created from the Fenestrelle paintings. I’m calling these giclés “crystal-structure paintings”, because they’re second-look, close-up paintings. They’re what you see when you observe Pitture Sotto Zero beneath the surface. The in-motion ice under the shiny veneer. A completely new exhibit! Ice . . . without the ice. Show Time in giclé.



For Toronto's Nathan Phillips Square, Gord has designed a huge painting for the flat rink and a special 3-D installation for display inside a gallery, alongside the outdoor arena. We’re guests of The City of Toronto as part of Winter City. Ear muffs, scarves, snow and hockey equipment. We’re bringing our skates. (This time we’ll pack them in our checked bags so we can make it through security, and hopefully, we won't be running for the gate at the last call).

Ontario, the True North strong and beautiful. Ice, snow, kids on ice skates chasing after a black disc with wooden sticks. Where Gord's childhood experience flooding home made ice rinks under a winter moon inspired him to create this new, visceral art form. Where people really do say 'eh?' Where, under that same moon, years later, I was a young woman in love with a Canadian. Where Jaz was born. Before team sports. A lifetime away, almost.



It's dark and dinnertime and emails to answer, arrangements to be made. Wood to be put on the fire. Soft rain outside the window, melting the snow. Tomorrow, there'll be a moment for more. We're just beginning. Again.