For many years I’ve said that I’m an artist not by choice, but because I have no choice. The truth is I’m not even sure what the hell that means. It just helps me explain something I’ve never known life without; my art practice. Some of my earliest memories are of Saturday mornings spent in front of the TV, hurrying to draw cartoon characters before the credits rolled and I had to wait a week to see them again. No VCR, you know.

As a bored youth on the prairies in central Canada I would foster my curious mind by exploring the unknown. That may be one reason why I grew up numb to everything but chaos, chance and taboo. For at least the first decade of my adult life I saw no risk in tempting fate and a generally hostile vibe rang through my art because of it. When it led to gallery exhibitions, illustration work for multi-platinum recording artists and playing naked in the grotto at the Playboy Mansion, I was sure I was going places. When it led to upset and a stint on the streets where I fed myself on wishes stolen from a public fountain, I was convinced I’d go nowhere. In spite of the friends I made, lessons I learned and good times I had, an alchemist would indeed know this as the nigredo, or blackening, phase of my work.

Revaluation and personal change have played a large part in getting me to the present day. Now in my mid-thirties, I’ve come to take refuge and find inspiration in Vipassana meditation, the teachings of an Asháninka shaman, ancient wisdom traditions and sacred art. I often bore my incredible wife with my endless fascination with it all. Having her and our two kids by my side ensures a future with plenty of motivation for a continued evolution of my creative process.