My first annual art show at home will be on June 10th in Fenelon Falls... I have almost 300 paintings on show. Realist watercolours but most are abstracts on canvas or yupo paper...Its so good to be painting again.. Life is very sweet now...

Our family Book Its Muck or Nettles has has been scripted into a play/Musical in our home city of Sheffield.. It is called Sheffield Song  Here is recent Article.

It's a long time since I was here, lets just say I'm through a dark tunnel and into a very bright place, a state of grace.
I began painting again in 2010, just a few small watercolours, they were OK, I still had some skill but.... it was not enough. I needed a paradigm shift and it came via my son Bill finding some blank canvas's when we decided to paint the rec room which had been my big studio until 1997.
I decided to try 'Acrylic Abstracts' but never thinking I would get obsessed again.

After about 12 I went out and bought more canvas's and I decide to have a show at home, on Dec 2011, which gave me 163 days for 163 paintings... I improved pretty fast so by the end of Oct I had reached my target and more and the rec room was freshly painted.
My show was a success. My wonderful POD pals came to help and so did my grandchildren Ann Marie and David... They all brought food and drinks and Margaret even cleaned my fridge.
I sold 38 abstracts and 2 watercolurs and later the same one watercolour to Saudi Arabia. Which came from a Yutube video Regina had made for me... So now I have another new beginning... and my dues have been paid.
I have total peace of mindm something I craved during the 25 years of care-giving.
RIP my darling Liz... The bravest woman I ever knew.

My Son Bill has a New Beginning too, he went back to College @ 52
So finally after years of begging him to write he is... I only have this I can post at the moment, but I will ask him for others prose and poems ....today is Jan 29 2011

MAKING A DIFFERENCE

by William Wardley

Ann is dyslexic; she had a tough time in school, failed her finals and missed the opportunity to attend art college. Her artistic talent lay dormant for decades. Her love of art surfaced in the doodles she drew, while concurrently running an international moving company, caring for her family of six or being house mother to several university students that stayed in the seventeen roomed house she cleaned daily. Ann knew the value of recreation and community, she had been taught by her parents, aunts and uncles. Before the days of the idiot box and pre-packaged holidays, long before the video game and video recorders, people made their own fun. This was particularly evident in her family’s choice of holiday spots. Their favourite place was an open field at the seaside, the only sign of civilization: a solitary water tap that poked out of the ground at one end of the field. The family circled their moving vans just like the covered wagons of the old west, and dropped their tailgates. The tailgates became the stage for vaudeville acts they performed for each other, or ramparts, battlements and portcullises of ancient castles. Dragons slew, maidens rescued, and daring deeds done to order. If laughter is the best medicine, I’m sure their immune systems were second to none. Ann passed this love of art and imagination onto her children. Three sons and a daughter spend many hours building ocean liners and rocket ships from the oddest assortment of household objects. Did you know three drawers of the dining room buffet could morph into Cain’s Bounty or six kitchen chairs and a silk parachute could become Barnum and Baileys annex. Her home and backyard became a favourite haunt for all the neighbourhood children, none were turned away, all were welcome, and usually fed.

Fast forward three decades. Ann, now living in Canada, her family grown, returned to the art she had loved so much. Tole painting caught her eye; she enrolled in a night course to pursue it, even though it was far beneath her abilities, as was evident by the comments of a local prominent artist Terry Andrews. Terry bought her three or four Windsor and Newton sable brushes, and told her to paint something real. That’s how it all began, a simple comment, a gesture of faith and a really good push in the proper direction. The time was right; Ann and her husband had just sold one of the busiest pizza restaurants in the area. They had bought a log cabin in the woods; they had a stream, and pond with herons and fish, and forty acres of solitude to cut the noise from the outside world. Ann started to paint.

One of Ann’s first paintings was entered into the Buckhorn Art Festivals juried show. It took second prize. The next year she entered two, earning her an award of technical merit for one (which, ``far exceeds the boundaries of realism``.) and a first place prize in the amateur category for the other. I have that painting in my room; it brings me great joy whenever I look at it. As usual Ann was not satisfied with just doing something, she wanted to pass her gift and enthusiasm onto others, but where to start. She had a few conversations with other local residents that shared her love of art and community. Peter Pennington, a retired architect from Toronto saw Ann’s enthusiasm; they formed a great friendship and began working towards their common goal, pulling in and engaging others as they moved along. Ann suggested they form a group of twenty local artists to start an art festival in the community of Fenelon Falls.

Why only twenty, Peter remarked, Ann knew immediately he was the right duck, he didn’t think small. Peter put up $5000 of his own money and found sponsors. Ann took care of marketing, media and prizes and getting artists. Within ten weeks the small group of founding members planned and implemented the first annual Kawartha Art Festival. That was 1989. It was a great success; it is still running today, drawing in huge crowds over the Labour Day weekend. There are now well over 100 artists from all disciplines. It has become a destination for people from all over North America, and a stop off for international tourists, it has garnered praise and accolades from professional artists and publications alike.

Ann, as usual, wanted to include everyone in her labour of love, so the second year of the festival they started children’s section. Local school children could enter their art work. It was judged by their peers, and prizes were donated by sponsors. One prize from an art supplier in Germany was valued at over $400, truly a measure of the success of the festival and Ann’s commitment to her community. The children’s section was called `Young at Art` a fitting title I think.

Ann participated in the Kawartha Art Festival for several years, then family commitments changed and she put down her brushes. But that was not the end of Ann’s commitment to her community.

Ann’s daughter had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. It was a crushing blow to the family. In their usual manner they pulled together, to help Elizabeth raise her family, a task hard enough for any single mother, let alone one with paranoid delusions, manic depression and hallucinations which were punctuated by moments of clarity. They worked as a team, each with their own assets and talents. Eventually the two children grew independent, Elizabeth’s symptoms got worse. To this day I believe something inside her said my children are grown, happy and safe, I can stop fighting now. She dropped into despair and was committed to Whitby Psychiatric Centre several times. Her family hated it, it was too clinical, it focused on the problems and the negatives not on the assets. Her family decided to bring her home. Ann was now a widow, in her early sixties, and prepared to take on the toughest, yet most satisfying era of her life. Within a short time Ann realised she had to keep Elizabeth busy. If she was allowed to brood she could become manic and angry. Fortunately Ann was still vibrant and active.

In their infinite short sightedness the local government decided to amalgamate several small communities into the City of Kawartha Lakes. Services were cut drastically to save money. Parks and Recreation were the first to suffer. Ann saw an opportunity to help her daughter and her village. It was a simple plan; Ann and Elizabeth took a few simple tools, went into the village and started pulling weeds from the sidewalks and curbs. They were noticed immediately. The ``nay sayers`` ridiculed it, others saw the intent and encouraged it. To thank Ann and Elizabeth, the Reeve and Rotary Club elected them to be Grand Marshalls of the Fenelon Falls Santa Day Parade. Ann declined and let her daughter carry the honour. Elizabeth got to ride in a huge red convertible at the head of the parade. I still see that radiant face in my dreams. Sadly Elizabeth took her own life at the age of 50.

Now alone, save for the visits of her three sons and her grandchildren, there was a void in Ann’s life. She picked up her brushes and started to paint, but not the still life paintings of her past glories. Ann changed tack and tried her hand at abstracts, a completely unknown medium to her. As usual she learned fast and became quite proficient. Her community rallied around her and gave support; she opened her studio for the first time in over a decade. It was a great success, and if I’m any judge of this paragon, she will find a way to include her community, it is in her nature and I respect her for that.