A morning chorus greets us on mist shrouded waters, as we awake from peaceful slumber. Mystic rhythms swirl in cool shades of emerald and crystal shimmer, while our red canoe announces the presence of temporary guests. We look forward to the time ahead of us where exploration and admiration can be enjoyed with indigenous respect for Mother Earth. Until then, we will be attuned to the heartbeat and the magic mystery of lake echoes.
Back to the Artwork pageA morning chorus greets us on mist shrouded waters, as we awake from peaceful slumber. Mystic rhythms swirl in cool shades of emerald and crystal shimmer, while our red canoe announces the presence of temporary guests. We look forward to the time ahead of us where exploration and admiration can be enjoyed with indigenous respect for Mother Earth. Until then, we will be attuned to the heartbeat and the magic mystery of lake echoes.
Another day draws to a close, as violet hues settle on rocky shores like dusk’s final shroud. Reflect on the joys and accomplishments of the day gone by, and give thanks for those yet to come. Breathe in the calm, and release any burdens into the soothing arms of Amethyst breezes.
This collector piece is one out of a growing edition that I started creating in 2016. You will notice that the edition number and the artist’s signature is engraved on the back of the canoe, so as more pieces are created in the Canoe Series in the future, the lower edition numbers will translate to an increase in value with the passage of time.
Crafted from the forest, its gunnels and keel gleam with an artist’s touch. Flashes of light across a mist soaked lake supply proof of its presence, as it glides and sways in a rhythmic dance. Markings on a polished underbelly honour the rocky Algonquin and Temagami isles where sanctuary was sought for moments of reflection and sustenance, or protection from leeward winds. As stars appear and night draws near, I wait in anticipation for the coming dawn when once again I can share quiet moments alone with my cedar strip.
When the loons no longer call
When the wolves have no need to howl
When the whispering pines are quieted
We feel the silent voices of Algonquin Spirits