My mom died five years ago. As anyone who has experienced this knows, it’s nearly impossible to describe the magnitude of such a loss. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve always felt incredibly loved by her, but I don’t think it was until I became a parent that I could grasp just how deep that love went. This painting explores a memory of a time when she was alive and we were together and how much I wish I treasured that moment when I was there.
Join me in 1997. I was almost nine years old and armed with a cheap, fixed-focus film camera going on a family hike on some Mississauga walking trail. I was fully immersed in being a nine-year-old: jumping on rocks and racing up hills. I was snapping photos of everything around me.
This particular image, now the reference for my painting, was a beautiful mistake. I was actually trying to photograph a duck in the marsh, but instead, I captured the quintessential example of landscape art: a background, middle ground and foreground that enclosed the scene.
My Mom, an artist herself, always supported my creative spirit. When the photos were developed, I felt like a budding photographer. I remember happily showing every visitor, encouraged by my Mom’s gentle prompting: “Why don’t you go show them your photos?”
Fast forward to 2025, and this seemingly simple photo brought two things into focus: first, a wish that I had spent more time connecting with my mom on that trail; second, a deeper understanding of the power of a parent’s encouragement.
For this painting, my goal was to create a painting that felt rich and deep. I planned to use saturated colors to draw the viewer’s eye into the heart of the image. The way I framed the composition was intentional to bring you and keep you in that moment.
The vision behind the painting
My primary aim was to capture a moment in time when my Mom was still alive, a visual echo of her love and encouragement. I wanted it to feel grounded, warm and safe.
I’m working toward incorporating more abstraction in my work, allowing elements to blur and shift and ultimately forming into a cohesive recognizable scene.
Artistic process: Studies and a new colour palette
I intentionally chose a different colour palette than my usual. Through a couple of studies, I explored how these new hues would interact. Initially, I considered a heavy use of dioxazine purple, but quickly discovered its tendency to overpower. I then shifted to a base palette of ultramarine, alizarin crimson, and yellow ochre. The mix of rich, deep colours and their vibrant saturation played well into my intentions behind this work.
The version on the right is what served as my roadmap for the painting.
Meditation and reflection through paint
Sometimes, the most beautiful moments in my paintings emerge by accident, much like in nature. I deliberately left room for these accidents, allowing areas to remain loose, letting the paint blur and shift like memory itself. To me, this feels more honest than striving for exact precision.
As I painted, I hoped to remember new fragments of this memory, to access something previously lost. While that wasn’t exactly the outcome, spending time with a snapshot of my childhood, when my Mom was still with me, deepened my appreciation for her. More than anything, I wish she were still here, that she could have met her grandson. But I know with certainty that the life I have, the strength I possess, is a direct result of her love.
Yes, this painting, “Echoes of autumn and time,” is, in part, about grief. But more earnestly, it’s about love, appreciation, and the recognition of everything our parents pour into us.
I hope that when you see this painting, it stirs something within you – maybe nostalgia or warmth. I hope it serves as a reminder to truly embrace where you are and who you’re with. It’s those seemingly ordinary moments that often become the ones we wish we could return to most.
The beauty of hindsight: Embracing imperfect perfection
As much as a part of me wishes I could return to that autumn day, to relive it differently and spend more time consciously connecting with her instead of seemingly running around aimlessly, I now view that moment through the eyes of an adult and a parent. Being a parent myself has taught me that my greatest wish is for my son to be a child. For him to explore the world with joy and curiosity, just as I did.
And so, a beautiful understanding has emerged from this process. There’s a natural tug-of-war between longing for a different past and acknowledging the truth: that moment, in its own way, was perfect. It was a moment of childhood freedom, fostering the creativity my mother so lovingly encouraged. She was doing exactly what mothers should do: offering unconditional love and support, creating a safe space for growth.
This painting, and the warmth it emanates is about honouring the simple beauty of what was. It’s a celebration of those moments that, while seemingly ordinary at the time, hold a place in our hearts. A reminder of a mother’s love, allowing a child to explore. And in that realization, there is a peace and a deeper appreciation for every precious ‘now.’
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