Monday Colouring Pages

Monday morning is the day we all embark from our caves, off to be chattel to the machine of commercialism. It’s an unavoidable but universal truth. Monday sucks. Give yourself a little lift with these free downloadable colouring pages (or if you’re from below the border, coloring pages). I upload them every Monday. Please do check in each week for a fresh new page.  I never know what I’ll do next.


Good luck this Monday morning.  May coffee be with you.

Rose ♥


I went to the park today to draw something cheerful.  I walked in with my pens and sketchbook planning to sit on the grass and draw ice cream cones.  I was immediately approached by a woman who gave me these flowers and told me my aura was purple.

I’ll take her word for it.


It’s now in my library of free colouring pages.



The last year has been a long one.  My mother had a bone marrow transplant and she’s doing well.  Due to a few different circumstances I’ve had to move twice which has been a real blow to my art making.   I’m convinced moving repeatedly is completely inhumane.  My new place is absolutely lovely and right next to Beacon Hill Park.  Big sigh of relief.

A small recap of my last year.  I showed in the Integrate Arts Festival for the third year.  I was interviewed by CBC radio.  I experimented with sculpture.  Now I’m enjoying my time and puttering about.

As I get my new place together I’m starting to prep for painting.  You can still buy my current prints at Milkman’s Daughter in Victoria and now they’re stocking my cards.


Why I Need to Help


Eight years ago I was diagnosed last second with an agressive leukemia (AML).  It’s been known as the autopsy disease because they tend not to catch it until you’re… well you get it.

When it happened I had no idea the lifelong percussions it would bring.  I had 6 months of the most aggressive chemotherapy leading up to a bone marrow transplant.  The doctors told me a BMT would be the worst thing they can do to a body.  I thought, “Really?”  What about heart transplants or double lung transplants?  Once it was happening I realized why.  That’s enough about that.

I was a single parent with three sons I’d been raising on my own.  I’d never needed help before.  I was just finishing my B.F.A  when BAM, I was in Vancouver hanging by a thread.  I expected a year of my life would be taken from me.  I had no idea the depth and breadth of what I was about to go through.  Nothing has ever been the same and at this point I realize it will never be.

I had lots of helping hands, my mother watched my children in my own home so they didn’t need to leave school.  Strangers brought them dinners once a week.  The amount of times people helped is literally more than I can count.  Despite that, we were rocketed into poverty like we’ve never experienced.  My medications, cost of living and the fact I was unable to work for 5 years and even now I can only work part time.  I burnt through my savings within 3 months supporting my kids while I was in the Vancouver Hospital.  I then experienced 8 years of no stable job.  I accept I am disabled now.  I hate it but it is what it is.

I do know this crushing poverty after cancer is not unique to me.  I was only 33 years old and finishing my degree.  My world was sunshiny and bright, the future looked only brighter.  Now my life is a shell of what it was.

There are others like me.  People with no safety nets.  People who have been crushed by cancer.  We call them survivors but surviving getting back to life after treatment is still another barren highway of struggle.  Chemotherapy saves your life but it also causes cognitive issues which last for years.  It also impacts the body in other long term ways.

I have received so much kindness and love from strangers.  I still wish I could find each and every one to thank them and let them know what that meant to me and my sons.  Even if I can’t find each and every one what I can do is pay it forward.  I have a dream to help someone I have’t even met yet.

Then this last year my mother was diagnosed with a rare Hodgkins Lymphona.  She will be receiving a bone marrow transplant in about a month.  The devastation that brings is unspeakable.  I made her a painting to remind her of her favourite daily walking place.  When she’s too ill to walk she can have the soothing colours of the lily pads and water.

This prompted a committed and generous friend to suggest we make cards with the image as a fundraiser.   Between the two of us and a lot of hard work we’ve produced the card!  All (yes %100) of the proceeds will go to a scholarship fund to help someone who may not have had the chance to go to school.   This is something I’m extremely passionate about. Education can mean the difference in someone’s life.  It enriches our minds and souls as well as helps us with employment or changing careers if we are unable to continue our previous ones.

If you bought a card thank you.  If you would like to help out with this cause please send me a message.  Neighbour helping neighbour, hand helping hand.  We can do this.


Naming My Mother’s Painting

Hey there!

My blog has been quiet because there’s been so much going on.  Life can change in an instant.  I wanted to direct you to a little project I’ve posted on my Facebook page.

My water lily image will become a legacy to raise money for people with cancer.  I’d like to honour my mother by naming the painting after her.  I’d love some ideas on what I should call it.  Please go to my Facebook page to leave your suggestions.  Please share the page if you feel so inclined.


Hello & Welcome!


Hey ho and hello!

Welcome to my new space where I’ll be sharing my creative impulses and art projects.

In my view art can’t be subtracted from experience.   These days it can be too easy to walk blindly through life.   Our daily experiences, good and bad, enrich our lives in more ways than we can comprehend.  I make it a point to try and wake up, see the beauty around me and feel whatever there is to feel.  This visceral interplay is what fuels my work.

Please join me as I wander and lets see what we can see.