Recent Artwork

Madonna with an Apple brings a contemporary domestic still life into conversation with the long tradition of religious painting. A familiar metal kettle and fruit occupy the foreground, while the partially obscured Madonna and Child inhabit a second pictorial space beyond the sweeping white cloth.

The apple provides the connection between these two worlds. Held by the Christ Child in the background and repeated among the objects of the still life, it crosses from the historical image into the present. In Christian iconography, the apple can evoke the Fall and Christ as the “new Adam,” transforming an ordinary piece of fruit into a symbol of redemption.

Part of the same developing series as Tea with Modigliani, the painting explores the meeting of art history and everyday life—of sacred imagery, memory and familiar domestic objects.

Modigliani has always been one of my favourite artists. I am drawn to the simplicity of his forms and his refined choice of colours. His figures often remind me of Byzantine iconography — a comparison that may seem surprising, even shocking, to many people, but as a specialist in the history and philosophy of traditional icon painting, I find it completely natural. In both, three-dimensional subjects are presented in a non-academic way, simplified yet deeply expressive. Despite the apparent flatness, I still perceive real characters and the presence of lived experience.

This still life was born almost by coincidence. One day I noticed a book with reproductions of Modigliani’s paintings on my table, surrounded by everyday objects. The contrast between the painted images and the tangible reality of the teapot and fruit immediately impressed me. I wanted to explore this dialogue between representation and interpretation. I painted the teapot with almost hyperrealistic attention, while the fruit become a transition — moving from classical observation toward stylization, gently approaching Modigliani’s poetic language.

In this quiet arrangement, the ordinary ritual of tea becomes a meeting point between two ways of seeing the world.

This trail along Spencer Creek near Webster Falls is a place I have visited many times since the days of my first studio in Greensville. Most of the time it is very quiet. When I walk down toward the stream, I feel as if I am entering a different world. In a short time I forget about the presence of people who are, in fact, not far away.

On some misty days the trail offers unexpected encounters — birds, squirrels, or sometimes a deer. In this painting, one of those silent meetings appears.

Near the stream the light is filtered by thick trees and sheltered by the rocks of the Escarpment. The colours are subdued yet rich and saturated. Being there brings a calm, attentive state of mind. Each turn reveals new perspectives. The place feels familiar and new at the same time.

Sometimes the quiet presence of nature feels like a companion on the path.

Watch video with paintings inspired by Webster’s Falls https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P3M4wNPzY

Christie Lake Conservation Area is one of the natural jewels around Dundas. There is a lake and a wide park where people come to rest in the sun, walk, and spend quiet time outdoors.

I painted this landscape in early autumn. It was not crowded, but a few people were sitting in the deep shade of those enormous trees. What attracted me most were the bright colours appearing softly in the misty distance — they became the main inspiration for this work.

The painting was done on site. Later in the studio I had to remove a few flies that had become trapped in the fresh oil paint.

With the frontal composition I wanted to show the depth of the space and the impressive scale of the trees. The small figure brings life to the scene and captures a fleeting moment in the history of this peaceful place.

Sometimes a landscape feels timeless, even while life quietly passes through it

This painting was inspired by a stormy day at Burlington Beach. The rough water and heavy sky gave the landscape an intense, almost theatrical presence. The shoreline was nearly empty; only two small figures appeared in the distance. From afar, their gestures seemed animated, as if they were engaged in a serious discussion or even an argument.

Their silent exchange felt deeply in tune with the unsettled mood of the weather, and this correspondence became the starting point of the painting. The landscape itself appeared dramatic, almost threatening, yet no rain ever came — it was only a restless, windy day. Perhaps the conversation between the couple was not as serious as it seemed, but that remains a mystery.

The dark tones of the water, the luminous foam breaking on the shore, and the shifting colours of the sky created an atmosphere that was both powerful and slightly menacing.

Sometimes the wind carries emotions across the landscape, and we read our own stories in the distance.