Daniel Poulin
Do not forget the water : the action step by step. / Oublie pas l'eau : séquence de l'action...
Process
Notes, images and writing documenting the artist's process and experience during the residency. Click the artist's name for more details.
Tedi Tafel
My first days at the Reserve are overshadowed by a lingering cold, so I choose to stay close to home. I hang out with the guys in the mornings, busy at work inside the adjacent cabin, and go for short walks along the nearby stream....
Jeane Fabb
I brought huge burlap bags full of pine, spruce and fir cones from my nearby home to the cabin at Lac des sucreries Lake of Sweet Things, cones that had been gathered over the years during my daily walks in the nearby forest. I spent numerous hours, during Marcheurs des bois, sewing these cones onto black netting. ....
Peter Bodenham
The unfamiliar and spectacular landscape we encountered clearly became primary inspiration. For me, my fascination with figures in landscape took on exotic and surreal dimensions. Experiencing figures in red jackets emerging out of a blizzard, moving across frozen lakes, created enigmatic and primal connections. ....
Stirling Steward #1
On the day we arrive Jeanne recounts a story from when she was in the far North of Quebec living with the Inuit. At the beginning of winter a man returns to the house after being the first to walk out onto the lake....
Stirling Steward #2
I take a blank canvas to the lake it snows, I uncover the canvas, it snows, I uncover & draw, I lie down, it snows, I uncover I follow as images arise.....
Stirling Steward #3
Head bowed & hands in pockets, I walk & sing becoming a lament. I hear myself better this way. Looking up every now & then to notice outside to sing out. Sometimes there are thoughts, sometimes not. Do I sing from Blood? from Heart? from Womb? from the lake beneath my feet? .....
Maura Hazelden #1
A long bad dream goes grey and feathery I wake sit up and see thick snow falling outside. I come back when I am hungry, hands, arm and feet hurt as I walk. I begin to realise my limitations......
Maura Hazelden #2
Catch a sparkling fragment of air, early morning air full of woodpecker and tiny spangles. 22° halo, with rainbow circumzenithal arc, and later a lower arc...
Maura Hazelden #3
I see a wolf. Sous l'é paisse neige qui tombe je dors. Dw i'n crwydro'r byd yn chwilio am nghrud. I lie down under blue sky in still air. Dw i'n gweld gigfran....
Francois Morelli #1
The first days were spent walking the snowed in roads, breaking off and opening paths into the brush. The stillness and silence was punctuated by the howling sled dogs and the thundering logging trucks....
Francois Morelli #2
Removing the two bunk beds from the prospector tent I dragged them onto the lake. A lining them they spoke of trucks, driving and dreaming....
Francois Morelli #3
The walk across le lac des Sucrerie took forty-five minutes. There I found a muskrat lodge. Bending over I picked up a gnawed branch with my mouth...
Simon Whitehead
On the first day on the Lake I found a long stick, bark chiselled off by a Porcupine. These cultural and natural artefacts were to be constant companions, carried on walks and installed in various locations on the lakes in snowfall, beneath Cedar, and by a frozen river...
Stefhan Caddick
Two weeks spent trying and repeatedly failing to transform rough pine planks from the local timber yard into usable skiis. Several attempts at steaming wood on a woodburning stove in the prospector's tent at minus 20 degrees C.
Stefhan Caddick #2
Up late. v. tired. Glued strap holders to skis, screwed + viced. Walked to end of lake with snow shoes on.