Also, I have catalogues available for $15 plus shipping.

That’s all I can remember, but it was the kind of dream you wake up happy from, and you wish it wasn’t just a dream.

* * *

My book went to press today, so it should be on time for the book launch on Feb. 24. I’m very excited about it. It was a very collaborative effort and I’m super excited that it’s more of a book in its own right than a catalogue of the exhibition per se.

Well, that is how it goes for most artist-parents I imagine. You have an incredible evening with all kinds of friends coming out to see your years-long project come to fruition; they tolerate your three-year-old running amok through the whole gallery; strangers tell you all manner of kind things about your work. You drink one glass of wine too many and the evening screams by and next thing you know you’re home with a headache and your children are as loud as they ever were.

Maybe it’s because we homeschool, maybe it’s because my youngest is still so young and his health is a challenge. But there is a serious shortage of solitude in my life, has been for a long time, and for a while there, I thought maybe I would never make art again. But I had to finish the show, and I did.

This is probably not something people say publicly, but it was seriously amazing to see my work fill three rooms. One of the things Alec Soth said in my workshop was to start visualizing the end result of your project as early as possible. I knew I wanted an exhibition and a book, eventually. And the gallery walls I envisioned the work on was the Macdonald Stewart Art Centre. It’s so amazing that it’s up there now, nearly five years from when I started dreaming.

I’ve known for a long time that I use my camera to meet people I wouldn’t otherwise meet, to expand my community. Parenting young kids can feel pretty isolating. Especially when you’re  trying to pursue a personal project like this for no logical reason, on top of all the other obligations of family life. What I didn’t realize, and what I discovered last night, is that showing my photographs also widens my community. So many friends from so many different realms of my life came out last night, and I realized I have a lot more community than I thought. It was amazing.

It was such a whirlwind of a night that I didn’t take any pictures, except one of my kids, after the speeches and after most people had cleared out, in Kelly Richardson’s exhibition downstairs. I’ll have to go back so I can truly take in the other exhibitions, and of course for installation shots. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this.

Thank you so much to everyone who came out. And to everyone at the gallery for making it possible and for doing such a great job hanging my show and putting all the materials together and for giving me free drink tickets!

This is a little hard to see with the glare. How about a closer view?

Trying to figure out how to fit them all together… eventually I figured it out:

See you next Thursday at the opening?

I will be exhibiting Yes these bones shall live as a solo show at my local public gallery, the Macdonald Stewart Art Centre, opening in January 2015! And it will be accompanied by a book! I am over the moon. Last weekend I visited the gallery and stood in the rooms where my work will be, and after a brief cramp of panic in my gut, I was thrilled to imagine it.

In preparation for the show and to fund some of the printing and framing costs, I’m going to have a print sale. I plan to print two images and offer them in 11×14 size. Normally I only offer them at 16×20 or 24×30, but I realize those can be unwieldy for the average person who just wants to hang  a piece in their living room. I haven’t totally chosen the images, so if you want one, please email me (kate[at]peripheralvision[dot]ca) to let me know which one you want.

While we were there last weekend, we saw Robert Hengeveld‘s show, promised lands, a set of animated installations, which we loved. My favourite piece was called “paradise” and it was a separate room, dark, with a fake camp fire and fireflies. There was a pond with fake ducks, a record player spinning, birds that occasionally sang and moved, and an owl standing sentry in the corner, that spun its head round once in a while. A lot of it was built with cardboard, and the “forest floor” was literally carpeted – with green shag rugs. When my oldest encountered the carpet, he exclaimed, “I don’t know what this stuff is, but I LOVE it, and I want some!”

My youngest’s favourite piece was called “unbridled rein.” They both spent a long time watching it and came back again and again to it.

PS I’m on instagram now, if you’re interested.