A friend said to me lately, about writing, “it is not helpful to be given a gift from the gods andmistake it for our own doing.” Very wise, this friend is. My task as a writer, my vocation even, is to attune my senses to what the gods might be wanting to bestow. Do I know who the gods are? No. But I feel them often, and not often enough.

My family and I live in Yellowknife, a small subarctic city in Northwest Territories, Canada. It is so far away from ‘big G’ Galleries, museums, fairs, and biennales that I tend to think of it as the art world’s weird, distant cousin. Even though I so rarely get to see it in person, art is what I like to write about most. I enjoy trying to understand how and why a painting might simmer under its surface, how the invisible is made visible within it. My writing does not occur in an academic vacuum, but in the everyday. The great thinkers of history can elucidate art, but so can the mess on the kitchen table.

In recent years my writing is concerned with the spiritual lives of artists (we need one, if we’re going to survive this age!), with ideas around devastation and ruin, with disenchantment and wonder, symbol and metaphor.

My bylines include Galleries West, CBC arts, Maisonneuve Magazine, Studio Magazine, Macleans’ Magazine, Canadian Art, UpHere Magazine, and more. A few of my essays have wonAlberta Magazine Publishing Awards, and The Last Great Art Show, an essay which features Joshua Hagler’s Nihil project, is a finalist in their upcoming competition.