2022.
Not a year I'd like to repeat.

It began extremely well with strong art sales and commissioned paintings. I was excitedly planning my next Thing, as I normally do in early winter. Most of my year is planned out by that time with some wiggle room for spontaneous projects. Then the news came sometime in the spring that my Dad was sick. A week later we learned it was terminal. Everything happened so suddenly that it was hard to adjust and I was a wreck. I finished up the art work I needed to complete and then cleared my calendar as much as possible. My family and I came up with plans for medical treatment, transportation to the hospital out of area, aids to help his quality of life, nursing and care team, end of life discussions. I booked camping nearby his house, as a sort of hotel room so that I could be there to help out.

I wasn't able to do enough. I wanted to do so much more. 

The thing about grief is that it allows you to talk about love. Every visit, every phone call, every text, we spoke about the little things. Things like, the cardinals and the deer that I saw on my walks outside when Dad couldn't leave his bed anymore. Things like updates on his grandchildren, what we ate for dinner, how nice the weather was.
We also talked about the big things. What he wanted to do when it was time to die. How to celebrate and to honour him after death. That the Spirit World is beautiful and Mom was waiting for him there. Always, always we ended each talk with I Love You. 

Not long after the Apple Route Studio Tour and just a few weeks after I seriously injured my ankle, Dad left this world. Expected and yet sudden after having returned to the land he loved in Alderville. I had a feeling he was waiting to be back home before leaving us. And that's what happened. 

Here's what I learned from going through this (which was much different than how my mother died). It's the 'in between' that is the heart of life. Those insignificant every day moments are what bonds us. Sure, the big things are important and memorable too, but there's magic in the every day. Those are the stories. Those are the moments you giggle about years later. Those are the moments filled with the most love.

And so, my dear friends, I hope you have some grace for me and understand why I was inconsistent with my art updates last year. My soul's priority was to love, grieve, and everything in between.

This blog post was originally published by the Northumberland Festival Of The Arts in 2021 and consecutively published in 2022 by Devour: Art & Lit Canada, issue 013. 

“Together in Solitude” (Oil on Canvas) by Jennifer Trefiak 2021​

Merriam-Webster defines resilience as a noun that means: “the ability to become strong, healthy, or successful again after something bad happens.”

That’s pretty heavy because the events that lead us to become resilient are not insignificant; these are life altering events such as death, job loss, discrimination, illness, abuse, and trauma. What’s interesting to me about resilience is that you don’t know if you are resilient until you’ve come through to the other side; it is a test of your endurance as a human being and a test of your spirit. Becoming resilient is a painful experience.

Just as you don’t know if you’re resilient until you’ve made it to the other side of adversity, you cannot celebrate resilience until you have healed from those moments that tested you. Some moments can never be celebrated at all, it’s enough to make it through alive.

For some of us, the past two years have been a blessing, and for others, it’s been a time of struggle. For the arts sector it has been both.

The arts became a shining light for the world to grasp onto during the frightening beginning of the pandemic when so much was unknown. We felt alone and so we attended virtual concerts, online art openings, and play readings. As artists we had endless time to create and to explore our inner worlds. The arts brought all of us solace and joy when we needed it the most.

The other side to that is that many artists have felt the financial and spiritual burden of the past two years. Those venues that we require to make music, display art, and read poetry have not been available until very recently. We too, have had to adjust ourselves to the virtual world, and for some artists and arts groups that has been difficult or impossible.

As for the spiritual burden, if you do not have an audience you do not have art. If your book isn’t being read, your song is not performed and your artwork not seen, then does the art really exist? Art exists only in relationship to the audience receiving it. At least, that’s what I believe. When we bring art to people there is an energy and a connection which emerges that simply doesn’t exist on a screen.

Slowly, we are gathering the pieces of ourselves and coming together. As we begin to move into public spaces once more, I dearly hope that the individuals who took pleasure and comfort in the arts from their living room couch will support us in person. I also hope that we as artists and arts institutions continue to make our work accessible to everyone.

Which brings me back to the topic at hand, resilience. When I find myself looking for answers I always look to Mother Earth. She speaks if you listen, and resilience is her middle name. When a forest burns there is a period of regeneration afterwards. In fact, many plant species require a fire in order to propagate and thrive. It’s a natural cycle of life and one which Indigenous cultures know well. A prescribed burn prevents widespread and destructive fires with a carefully curated one. Destruction creates resilience, regrowth, and beauty.

I believe that we as an arts community will move into a period of regrowth and beauty, like after a forest fire. Where resilience factors in is in how we move forward. Do we do the same as we’ve always done? Or do we take these teachings from this time period to enhance the experience of our shared love of all things beautiful and compelling? Once you burn you can’t forget. Those seedlings of creativity, so freely shared during the pandemic and carefully tended by those desiring them, will not forget their roots. Those lessons will structure our collective resilience and regrowth. They will guide us into the next phase of art creation and appreciation. Then, we can celebrate.

​

Hello dear Collectors!

I recently did a radio interview on Northumberland 89.7 with David Newland where we discuss the AGN Spotlight Series 3, my Alderville First Nations heritage, the Canadian "Residential School" discoveries and awareness, and how art can influence and impact society. 

This conversation was spontaneous, unscripted and unedited. David's questions were sensitive and thought-provoking and I'm grateful for his skill in being able to bring out the best in me and allowing me to share what I am all about. 

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think in the comments!

I need to start this post with a huge chi-miigwetch to my community for supporting my artistic career. In some ways it is easy to be an artist - be yourself, make things, repeat. In other ways it can be a real struggle - the admin work, financially supporting your art making, pandemic lockdowns....

I am filled with gratitude for having been approached by The Art Gallery Of Northumberland to be a part of their Spotlight Series 3 - an annual arts education fundraiser known for shining the spotlight on artists from across Northumberland County. This opportunity came to me when I was at a low point spiritually. I was missing my friends and family, all cultural events were on hold, my studio and gallery had to be closed to visitors, and I was beginning to wonder whether my art made a difference to anyone other than me. But, I had begun my new series on community and was excited with how the concept was developing. Interestingly enough, it was at this point that the AGN approached me with their community project. Funny how synchronicity  works.

Since that time I have filmed my mini-doc, given radio interviews and news interviews. If you know me, you'll know that I prefer to listen rather than speak. This experience has been WAY outside my comfort zone. But, I also know that if you don't do things that scare you then you are not growing as a person.

The AGN Spotlight Series 3 has given me the opportunity to tell my community about myself and my heritage, how my landscape art speaks to topics and issues I care about, and I've come to learn that it also means something to all of you. That is why I do what I do and am who I am.

A friend of mine, who recently passed away, David Tanner, once told me that to have a talent or a gift and to choose not to share that with the world was to fail both yourself and your community.  I feel my included quote above explains what he said to me perfectly. 

And so, I make art and share it. Whether it's good or bad (I never profit from anything I'm not happy with). Whether it's in progress or completed. Whether for sale or not. That is my small contribution to my community. And my community decided to recognize my work and share it to a broader audience. I am humbled and honoured to have been chosen, along with five other outstanding artists Kate Boothman, Cale Crowe, Oli Goldsmith, Kate Hessin, and Ian Jack.

I  do hope you will come together with me as my community to view these mini-docs. The Northumberland County artistic community has shared so much over the course of the pandemic and has also taken a huge hit. Your love of the arts makes our tiny piece of Turtle Island a vibrant, caring, thriving, compassionate place that I'm proud to call home.​

I was asked this question in an interview recently and I have to say I didn't have a really good answer. First of all, talking about myself is not comfortable for me and I feel I'm even more eccentric and awkward by being isolated for so long. As I said to my friend, I don't know how to people anymore. 

Here's the thing. When I first began painting I tried out different styles, techniques and subjects. I began painting just for my own pleasure and those early paintings were done in a quasi-Woodlands style with natural elements and animals. I found it quite meditative to paint these thick lines and swirls. As I continued painting and honing my skills I knew I could share my visions with people other than my family. I quickly realized that I needed my art work to look like 'me' and not like Norval Morrisseau or Daphne Odjig (as marvelous as their work is). I made a switch to abstracts and I feel like that really helped my style to evolve. (I've included one of my early paintings for you to see below.) Gestural brushwork and bright colours were a natural fit and an unconscious development. The subjects of these abstracts were landscapes, music, and nature. Not so different from what I paint now.

Today I find myself coming back to a little more realism, interpreting nature rather than imitating it.  I still use colour as an element in its own right and I continue to tell stories through my images. 

So, what's my style? My style is expressive. My style is emotive. My style is me. 

Help me out Collectors - how would you describe my style?

Painting from 2007, acrylic on canvas

​I've been painting landscapes ever since I began painting. Sometimes they have been abstract, sometimes not. Some have figures but most do not. If there is a figure it is represented by nature or animal but I rarely paint a human figure. I will expand more on that in another post. 

I don't just paint landscapes though. Each of these landscapes has an underlying theme or message that I send into that painting. These themes are central to each new series that I create. I've always told stories in my art work and it used to frustrate me as a child when people (teachers) wouldn't understand my symbolism and story telling.

Almost all of my paintings have water in them. Not all, but most.

​In Anishinabek culture, water is sacred and women are the caretakers of the water.
​In my last series, Hiraeth, you will see in each piece that I have painted GutchiGumi (Lake Superior) which translates to Great Water or Great Lake. I have tried to show you the spirit of the land of my ancestors. I have also woven themes such as climate change, conservation, feminine uprising and power, spirituality, and human connectedness to Mother Earth into these paintings. When in doubt, the titles usually offer a clue. Most of my titles are snippets taken from song lyrics, story or poetry. 

I suppose I should write a separate blog post for each painting in the series to give you a little insight as to where it's located and what I was trying to say. It's a fine line with art. In one way I think art should speak for itself and you as a viewer should interpret it as you wish. On the other hand, maybe some of you would like to know more about the my underlying themes and what I was thinking about when I made my paintings.
Let me know! Mystery or Story?

I've also had some Collectors inquire about my Indigenous heritage and that is another blog post that I am planning in depth (so many blogs so little time!). For now, just know that I am from Alderville First Nation in Ontario and have an interesting and artistic family history which I am looking forward to sharing with you soon.

​TLDR: Use the best, be the best. Oil paint is safe. Give your artist friends jars.

This one's a long one and a bit nerdy, you've been warned :)

I've mentioned in a previous blog post (64 Crayons) about the importance of quality. It is important to me (and the artists friends I know in my personal life) but let me tell you, there are a lot of artists out there that either don't know or don't care about quality workmanship.

I'm very fortunate that when I began painting in my teens I was provided with an excellent quality acrylic paint brand. When I began painting again as an adult I bought professional quality paint even though I was only painting for myself without thinking of selling the art. I bought the best I could afford in limited colours and expanded my supply over time. 

When I began showing and selling my paintings, I never put a painting out into the world without being completely happy with either the painting itself or the quality. And I began researching paint, substrates, and pigments. Of course, you learn these things over time so my knowledge is much better now than it was even five years ago. To me, painting is not only an art but a craftsmanship.

I'll focus on my oil paintings since that is the medium I'm working with currently (but I maintain the same quality with my acrylics too).

I paint with a Canadian made oil paint that I purchase from Montreal, Kama Pigments, and it consists of pigment and walnut oil. Only the purest light-fast pigments are used. There are no fillers in this paint so a little goes a long way.  I chose this brand of paint because after much research I had learned that walnut oil yellows less over time than linseed oil (which is common in many other oil paints) and is safer to use with a higher flashpoint. Since my studio is in my house health and safety is always a concern.

I do use Gamblin mediums in my underpainting but since I have asthma I need to be careful about toxins. Which is partly why I only use odorless mineral spirits in the under layers and not for cleaning my brushes or subsequent layers. It's still a health risk but I try to either do those layers outside in warm weather or I open all the windows while I'm using it. Despite being odorless it's still a chemical. I also use Galkyd medium in my paintings and while not completely safe is much safer. Sometimes I also use Cold Wax medium in the under layers also.  Other than that I use walnut oil in the upper layer which is completely safe. Of course, once the painting is dry there is no harm to you as a collector.

There is a way of oil painting in a solvent free manner but I'm unable to achieve the look I want if I paint that way.

The interesting thing is when I paint in acrylic I notice the off gassing of the acrylic paint to be so much more noticeable than anything I use in oil painting. There has been a common misconception in modern times that acrylic paint is safer than oil paint which is completely untrue. There are lots of chemical binders used in acrylic paint and mediums whereas oil paint is simply pigment and oil. Using is a solvent is a choice I make to achieve the look I want and I'm aware of taking safety precautions.

Surface quality is important also. I paint on heavy cotton canvas that has been triple primed with archival quality gesso and is stretched on kiln dried pine stretchers. Some artists paint on solid wood panels, some on linen, some on canvas depending on their style of artwork and medium. I prefer canvas since I normally paint with some texture so a fine tooth isn't of concern for me. 

When I do paint sketches with a palette knife either plein air (meaning outside) or in the studio I prefer to paint on canvas boards (canvas adhered to carboard panel or wood panel), or Canson canva-paper (a thick archival paper that mimics the tooth of canvas). Both of those are light weight enough for me to take on my camping trips and if I do a sketch I'm not happy with they are easily disposed. Sometimes I sell these sketches but I always clearly mark the materials used so that as a collector you know it needs framing and a future full sized painting could come from it.

As for quality of paintbrushes and knives? I have my favourite large Escoda brush from Spain that is hog bristle and leaves beautiful strokes in the paint that just thrill me but I also have brushes that cost me $2 with synthetic bristles that also do well for me. I learned early on that you don't need to spend a fortune on brushes, although maybe if I were a photo realist or portraiture painter I would have a different opinion. For me, cheap and expensive alike work depending on the application and use. Also, you can never have too many brushes and artists are fugal. I store them in large empty coffee cans and mason jars. If you ever want to befriend a painter just give them a bunch of clean jars - they are used for everything from storing brushes to mixing mediums and solvents to cleaning brushes.

My palette is a glass kitchen cutting board turned upside down so that I mix on the smooth side. I painted the chopping side a neutral grey so that it's easier to see my paint colours. Sometimes I cover it with wax paper to mix on for easy clean up because I'm lazy. 

When I'm finished a painting and it has dried I title the back, sign it, inventory it and wire it. None of my collectors buy a painting without it being ready to hang. I feel that is important.

I always stand by the quality of my work. It means as much to me as the painting itself.