I believe that Life holds out certain moments that are specifically meant for us.

I call them "held-spots".

Sometimes they just appear - other times we can deliberately seek them out.

But either way they become meaningful experiences that mark our existence.

Once I find my subject, I look for the meaning behind this discovery. 

For me, this process follows a path of self-search and individual growth.

I use my art to help me find my way.

To go this route requires an essential connection -

a relationship with something greater than the individual self.

Through this connection comes an education.

These held-spots are part of the learning.

For instance, here is an example of how I discovered a "held-spot" 

and how it taught me that its magic is very particular...

I saw this leaf on the back deck as I was feeding the cat. 

I wasn't looking for it - it just caught my eye.

The wind blew it there.

It held something. 

And I was held by it.

Then the wind blew it slightly away and it lost its magic.

No.18 CAROLINE'S HERD

I first met my friend, Caroline, almost 40 years ago when she was telling stories from THE STREET.

She presently lives in London and is painting stories of a new kind now.

Today she's back in town for a short visit and we meet.

I'm actually curious to know if these held-spots would work with her like they do with me. I have my camera ready and give her a sketchbook and pencil, just in case.

She's uncertain of the whole process but agrees to give it a go.

As we drive through the city streets, I tell her to tell me if anything jumps out at her and I'll stop the car.

The fallen leaves of a new autumn have covered the ground in yellow and orange. As we pass one lawn after another, Caroline's attention is drawn to the intricate patterns of the mostly bare branches along the way.

She likes trees, she says. She wonders if one of them is her held-spot. But if she tried to capture them on paper, she tells me, she'd feel overwhelmed drawing all the details.

Forget that tension, I explain, it's something different you're after, something that you'll know when you see it, that won't feel overwhelming.

We turn a corner and an interesting possibility pops up: a stark, angular mound of earth at a construction site. As beautiful as it is, it doesn't stick for her and we keep driving. I follow her directions, this way and that.

Then it happens with Caroline like it often does with me. She does a double-take.

Can you stop, she asks. Something caught her eye a few buildings back. She points out a pile of garbage bags under a tree.

From across the street they look like a gathering of seals by the sea or sleeping cows huddled together in a quiet pasture.

Its like a herd, Caroline says, and she begins to draw them.

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She sets the elements into place on her page, the outline of each bag forming another lumpy creature under the tree. Funny thing, she notices, they're resting right next to a No Parking sign. Her drawing holds the personality and humour of this family of bags.

As I film another movie clip to record this scene, my eye travels upward to something both of us overlooked.

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When I point out the clouds to Caroline, she lights up. They are like a mirror of the ground herd, she says, the same big lumpy shapes floating above!

A while later, back at home in my studio (and Caroline back in London), I create a rough composite photo of the entire scene with the herd huddled under the clouds.

I email Caroline this picture as reference for a future painting, perhaps. She is happy to receive it. Something of this held-spot has left its mark on her.

What I learn from this venture is that another person's held-spot can affect someone else. It has an objective power. This scene that specifically called to Caroline resonated with me in a very strong way, as well.

The herd has long since been carted off, but its memory remains as something magical. Caroline's attraction to this scene has sparked an insight that registers with me: Seen a certain way, we are all - like those over-stuffed bags - just a temporary sack of flesh and bones...holding magic in the moment.

POST SCRIPT: A few weeks later...

I receive a drawing from Caroline, entitled "Herd".

The boldness of this fresh depiction jolts me into seeing the old held-spot in an entirely new light.

I'm hit with a feeling of excitement - for the creation in life - from moment to moment - the force of it and the joy of it.

Caroline writes that she feels another drawing coming on.

And so it goes.

No. 19 THE BENCH

Today Caroline visits once more from London.

We meet for a 'double held-spot' venture and set out through the snowy streets of Montreal.

She will find a subject to draw that has meaning for me and I will do the same for her.

Before we start, I tell her I'm looking for insight into my work, specifically how best I can connect with it.

"What do you mean by connect?" she asks.

I realize it can sound like I don't feel connected to my work. That's not it at all. I explain that what I mean is a desire to connect my work with others - to have them see it, relate to it and hopefully get something out of it for themselves. But I worry that I'm witholding.

Again, she asks what I mean.

I tell her I'm holding back somewhere. As much as I want to bring the work out there, I can feel another part of me closing off, resisting.

We continue driving through the suburban streets. There's a build-up of frost on the windshield. The sky is turning a darker shade as the February sun begins to set. We each keep an eye out for something to draw that will be for the other.

I start to feel that what I'm looking for will be inside somewhere, but Caroline keeps checking the surrounding streets.

"I think I see something." she says looking out the passenger window.

I pull over to the side of the road. There is only one prominent object in an otherwise desolate view. My attention is drawn to this solitary park bench half-covered in snow.

"That bench - it's almost like it has human qualities." Caroline says. "It looks tired."

I see what she means.

"But there's a strength in it." she goes on. "I like how it's tired and yet it remains strong."

She decides to draw the bench and she gives the drawing to me.

Later, inside a nearby library, I search for a subject to draw for Caroline. There are display cases of marine life in the far corner. I'm sure there is a subject to draw in this collection of shelled creatures collected from distant seas. They seem even more strange and exotic after our drive through the darkening streets of a frozen Montreal winter.

My eye immediately zooms into one bold shape. Yes, this one is for Caroline.

I finish my drawing and, finding ourselves surrounded by books, I suggest we find quotes to go with our drawings.

Caroline likes this idea but she's unsure how to find one. She flips through one book after another.

"How much of this is arbitrary?" she wonders.

It does seem overwhelming. There is an endless assortment of titles stacked along the library shelves but I tell her to let go to the process, to let herself be guided to the "right" quote.

My belief is that there is a special interplay going on behind-the-scenes- an unseen interaction with something beyond our ordinary perceptions. I see the whole process as an education - a way to find meaning and growth in areas that need healing.

She's still uncertain of it all. After the fifth book, she finally decides on a poem she thinks is the one and inscribes it next to the drawing.

(poem by Louis Dudek)

***

Caroline has since continued on with her travels.

I think about the drawing of the bench she left with me.

I'm glad to have it. It gives me a feeling - of one day in the future, sitting on that bench, in the full light of the sun, the snow having melted away, the earth fresh with grass under my feet...

and being closer to answering the question posed by the poet:

"How can we see nature plain,
Who live in self-created pleasure,
self-created pain?"