Wonder Women: Where art and inspiration meet

The Impact of the Great Outdoors on the creative Mom Psyche is essential to survival. we need time to be just women.

The great outdoors has an incredible effect on the human psyche, serving as a powerful balm for the stresses and strains of modern life. Raised on the breathtaking landscapes of Vancouver Island, I grew up surrounded by nature's beauty, where the lush forests, rugged coastlines, and majestic mountains provided a backdrop for my childhood adventures. With limited means, my family and I would embark on journeys that took us from coast to coast, exploring the hidden treasures and wonders that the island had to offer. We often refer to this connection with nature as "vitamin N," a term that encapsulates the rejuvenating and restorative powers of the natural world. This deep-rooted bond with the outdoors has become intricately woven into the fabric of my well-being, shaping my identity and nurturing my spirit. How did I end up living in Alberta? That’s a long-winded story about my stubborn Scottish heritage and the twists and turns of life that led me here—a tale for another time, perhaps. However, what I can share is that after the pandemic began to recede, I felt a profound need for connection and renewal. My soul sister, a steadfast friend of 23 years who has been by my side through thick and thin, and I decided that we needed a much-deserved getaway, just the two of us. As a veteran teacher, I had been grappling with the overwhelming pressures of my profession, while my friend, a devoted mother to a child with cystic fibrosis, felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. We both recognized that we needed to breathe, to escape the confines of our daily lives, and to reclaim the joy that nature so effortlessly provides. That stress, quite literally, needed to take a hike. Thus, we set our sights on a moms-only trip, a chance to reconnect with ourselves and with each other amidst the beauty of the great outdoors. We loaded up the mini-van (yep....we are those moms) with all the essentials for tenting—sleeping bags, cooking gear, and incredible food, a few bougee hipster cocktail's and plenty of snacks (aka expensive dark chocolate, gourmet cheeses and all of the finest candy you can imagine).

The awakening, riding the "healing" rollercoaster of middle aged mom hood

We packed all of the art things that creatives need to survive in the wild as well as a touch of bohemian glamping swag to make our experience a little more luxurious. Our destination was the stunning Waterton Lakes National Park, a place renowned for its breathtaking vistas, diverse wildlife, and serene atmosphere. What transpired over those five days in Waterton was nothing short of miraculous. Each day unfolded like a new chapter in a story filled with adventure and discovery....and tears....lots of tears. We hiked along picturesque trails, breathing in the hot mountain air and soaking in the vibrant colors that dotted the landscape. I couldn't tell if was simply ageing and learning to see or the energy and connection we were experiencing that made the world vibrate with colour. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees (which came with such velocity at times that we were certain would flatten us) and the gentle burbling of the streams and waves lapping against the shore became a soothing soundtrack to our journey. Each morning the buzzing of the bees in the fireweed welcomed us into the day. So quiet.

We shared laughter around the campfire, reminiscing about the challenges we had faced and the triumphs (and defeats) we had celebrated over the years. Each moment a reminder of the resilience of women and the healing power that the great outdoors can provide. In those five days, we not only rekindled our friendship but also rediscovered parts of ourselves that had been overshadowed by life. The experience was transformative, reinforcing the belief that sometimes, all we need is a little time in nature to restore our souls and reclaim our joy. It was such a blessing to sit quietly and do nothing, have nothing asked or expected, travel at our own pace freely crying over coffee and laughing over... digestive challenges.

As we packed up to return to our busy lives, we carried with us not just memories of our adventures but a renewed sense of purpose, self and connection to the world around us. Vitamin N had worked its magic once again, reminding us of the importance of nurturing our spirits, taking the time to be just our selves and the profound impact that nature can have on our well-being. It was so good we started planning the next trip on the way home. While we mused about bringing our children we always circled back to maybe on a different trip. that maybe our new tradition would be to age with the park and have it be an anchor for rejuvenation as we watched year after year how the park recovered and grew from the fire. We breathed. We cried. We were simply Kelsey and Christina wild and free.

The sun. The wind......free as a bird

heading into Waterton

Free range noodles!

it actually was that magical....

can you hear the bees? I still can

women. happy women

Warrior woman slash samurai hobbit? noodles in the wild

not as swimable as one might think...I tried it. every muscil in my body seized.

Tarrot break

cloud watching. ...seriosuly we were made for this.

star watching too.

first morning of kelsey in mountain air

hypnosis

kicking back

watching water move

leaving las vegas meets hobbits

my favorite place in the world

the place we remember who we are

Prince of whales high tea....yes its worth it.

Round two was different but still wonderful. We both had a hard year and arrived exhausted. However, back in the arms of the belly river were ready for her amazing embrace. Mother nature definitely made sure that we remembered who these warrior women were. Our third day we were there we hiked Crandle lake and then the rain started. A light tickle that fell on leaves like snow on tinsel. Rain on water in an other wise silent world is so peaceful. Returning home to camp we met a camper who warned us of an impending storm with the potential to be insane. Satellite was recommending hikers to seek shelter due to extreme winds, lightning and torrential rains. It did not disappoint. We watched the storm roll in and the clouds boil black. The temperature dropped so quickly we could see our breath. We endured a 7 hour thunderstorm with rains that could have swept us away. My AMAZING husband packed us all of the things, so while we sat dry in the tent, a literal river running beneath us we let all of it go in our boho nylon palace yelling at each other over the rapid fire rain, booming thunder and wind whipped nylon tent. Like a pair of 80 year old women we yelled "what? Say it louder and laughed until we had no option but to run for the bathrooms. I should mention there is no cell coverage, electricity or running water out there so it truly was camping. I sure was happy that I splurged on cots!

room with a view

alter of awesomeness

panoramic view

art and fire....nothing better

beginning of the rains

torential down pour, had to reposition the van, crawl out the back and run for cover

art walk tent turned survivor habitat

Bears hump, not the easy stroll we wrongly anticipated

smoky views

top of bears hump, felt like the wind would send you over the edge

After our trip, having both lugged around enough emotional baggage to fill a cargo plane, life decided to throw some wild curveballs. Chaos danced round like it was auditioning for a terribly woebegone reality show. Watching helplessly as the woman who meant the world to me wrestled with it all, I did the only thing I could think of: I dove headfirst into our shared experiences and started crafting the biggest love letter ever. So began my epic, slightly bonkers learning adventure as I worked on the collection "The Places We Remember Who We Are." I don't paint landscape.... so the first few images were like being dumped in a vat of hot oil I had no idea how to successfully travel through. Water? sure....Mountains...clouds.....a 30 x 60 inch rock canyon? A testament of the insane depths we go to for the ones we love. I had zero room for mediocracy or failure as I some how had decided this series was essential to survival. Each stroke was like a ledge I hoped we could grab onto, a little lifeline in the madness..... which also equated to lots of madness and swearing and frustration for me haha...skill gap much?

The Art works Inspired: Alberta December 2024 to January 2025

I will write about the three that matter most in this story, sue to their meaning, challenge and unequivocally cathartic summoning of resilience I needed to manifest.

"The place where we Remember to breathe" was the first in this series and a wild ride up the cupboards. Created on an upcycled vintage mirror and painted with a 2 round it took forever. Each line some how more important to get right, looking closer and closer. it amazes me when you really zoom in to the nitty gritty of a thing you see a vast world of detail you missed at first glance. I remember this moment vividly. The wind on the hill in front of the Prince of Whales was snappy and cool, a change from the oppressive heat. It was our last day. We bathed in the river and dressed in our finest to go to high tea, celebrating a belated 40th the pandemic took from us. It was a poignant moment. We shed so much weight that week. I watched you walk up to the edge your dress and scarf twisting around you emblematic of the forces of mom-hood. You took the deepest breath, closed your eyes and exhaled the weight of the world. It was the first time I saw you breathe in a very long time. I wanted to freeze this moment and how vividly I felt it for you, so you could remember who you were when the weight of life was absent, albeit just for a little while.

"In the presence of mountains" depicts Moraine Lake and the Valley of the ten peaks. Boasting the third highest peak in the Canadian Rockies this shore with its crystalline waters and towering peaks stops time. While this isn't from our trip to Waterton, it is a place I find my self simultaneously humbled and hubristic. I grew up on Vancouver Island. As a teen the mountains felt like walls that trapped the rain, locking the clouds and an endless dull grey sky. After spending half of my existence in big sky country the mountains are a presence entirely different. Towering fortresses of stone birthed by conflict and movement deep beneath our feet. Endless evidence of endurance and resilience growing only because the ground has buckled and forced them to rise higher. Erasing personal significance yet reminding us that we, despite challenges, are capable of anything. There are over 500 layers of translucent acrylic that bore witness to a ton of sailor swearing, frustrating do overs and silent meditations of "mind over mountain". We can do hard things when we look at one step at a time. Struggle, learn, reflect, correct and just like the waves that lap the shore, ride it all over again. "

Wild renewal in Red Rock Canyon. Waterton Lake Provincial park Alberta. Nestled in the nook where the prairies reach the Rockies Waterton has SO MANY hiking gems. I remember pulling off the parkway to a wildly busy parking lot full of tourists and cameras and a total lack of presence. You told me it will be ok well just push farther than the tourists. We wandered up the trail through the river, so lovely in the heat and slowly the people became fewer and the canyon higher. It was cool in the shade and so quiet once past the bustle of people seeking pretty pictures. You made me traverse a log jam...I thought you were nuts until we turned the corner. Fern gully. babbling brook reflecting clear blue sky, red rocks, groove upon groove of history. We dragged our fingers over the bones of the earth swallowed whole by great open hush. When I close my eyes the imprint is so profound I get goose bumps, I smell the cool damp air, feel the rocks under my fingers. It was the first time I felt profound wonder in a long time. While I gave my self months to complete this, an exhibition opportunity arose at the Royal Glenora Club so I conquered this beast in 3 weeks of wildly frustrating and exhausting 24 7 painting. However, she glows and offers endless hours of exploration. After this beast everything else was easy!

After showing these works for the First time at the Night of Artists Art Walk in March I told the stories of my adventures with Christina many times and how these works of art were inspired. After speaking with local poet (and acupuncturist) Gord Grant sent me the poem below. We inspire others in many ways, weather its art, or communication and connection half the time you have no clue how profoundly!

Wonder Women

You two were not just standing in a canyon.

You were standing at your joined threshold

between what was lost

and what was waiting.

Not just a place—

but the moment a place becomes something more,

when stone and sky and water

cease to be scenery

and start speaking in a language

you knew, but didn’t really know you knew,

until then— until then.

You and she,

not just teachers,

not just mothers,

not just the names and roles

that once held you together—

but something else now,

something vast and unbound,

walking into the bones of the earth,

and the sky above swallowing you whole,

with nothing to hold you back

except the weight you were ready to lay down.

And you did.

You laid it down

in the red rock, in the river’s curve,

in the blue sky inhaling your sighs,

in the crimson light bleeding like a wound over the lake—

grief, expectation, the silent scream of endurance—

all of it dissolving

into the great open hush

of simply being—

alone and together, all at once

For a moment,

you were not what the world made of you.

You were not the hands that served,

not the voices that soothed,

not the anchors that held everything steady.

You were only this—

bodies alive in colour,

pulses woven into the canyon’s mystical hush,

breaths opening into wonder

so complete,

so completely synchronized with simply everything—

it broke you both free.

And when you returned,

you did not leave the canyon behind.

It followed you home.

It poured itself into your hands,

spilled onto canvas,

into lines and hues

that do not decorate,

but witness.

Because this is what wonder does.

It imprints.

It claims you.

It turns a moment into a reckoning,

a landscape into a mirror,

a memory into something you must carry

because it refuses to let you

become small again.

It is not just an image in the mind—

it is the taste of river mist,

cool iron and clay on the tongue.

The scent of sun on stone,

hot pine rising, the breath of earth opening.

The echo of footfalls against canyon walls,

the wind whispering through juniper

like a voice you have always known.

The weight of the rock beneath your fingers,

ancient heat pressed into your soles.

The pulse of it all at once—

senses not separate, but fused,

an electricity that does not fade.

And you won’t fade either.

Because you have seen yourself now—

not as ex-wife,

not as teacher,

not as only mother,

but as warrior.

The one who stood in front of the mirror,

half her face gone,

half her face becoming.

The one who took the picture,

not as a goodbye,

but as witness and declaration.

You were never just leaving.

You were claiming your being.

And when you painted that universal face,

the world saw anger,

but you knew the truth—

a woman’s rage is not a storm to be silenced,

it is It does not destroy—

it reveals a force of creation.

And now, in these paintings,

in these colours,

in the work that is wholly yours—

your voice is not just speaking.

It is roaring.

This is what wonder does.

This is what warrior women do.

How art is inspired and the meaning embedded within it are often imperceptible without story. The beauty of art however, is its capacity to evoke reaction in others in silent communication, its capacity for connection even when we stand alone in a room. It is my hope that these works, their vibrancy, their detail can inspire the viewer in the same way the geographic location has imprinted on me.