“It’s Not What You Think, no. 3″; oil & collage on canvas; 60″ x 84” At the end of a week workshop I taught in Mahone Bay last September, the group gave me a mason jar filled with little notes of appreciation. Since then when I feel low I dip into the jar, my honey jar. Having been down with the flu for the past week, I found it lifted me up today. Little words that added up to a big feeling of gratefulness. Thank you, my lovely friends. It is always a joy to teach and especi

Let’s Talk, no. 2; oil & collage on canvas; 36″ x 112″ For weeks I’ve been trying to figure out what I am doing, want to do, with my painting. If it is more talkative, as someone at the Secord Gallery exhibit in September astutely commented, to whom am I talking, about what, when does it communicate, or not, and to whom. Basically I am talking to myself and just hoping it says something to you. It’s not with words. Just with paint. If you love paint as much as I do, maybe it

Sometimes, Someone, Something, Somewhere, No 4. Curious about how my exhibit at the Secord was received, I asked Phil, the owner, about it. He said: “One fellow referred to the work as being more ‘talkative’. which at the very least made it clear that he was looking with an already experienced sense of your work.“ As well, a child, perhaps 5 years old, asked why there was a little orange rectangle in the bottom right area of Sometimes, Someone, Something, Somewhere, No 4. Phi

Romeo, my pup, likes to invent games for himself. This afternoon, after we had been playing fetch for a while, he took his ball and started dropping it between some branches of a bush. Then he would maneuver it out and drop it again, and again, and again. In the summer he would do the same thing: drop the ball between the slats of a chair on the dock, watch it fall, pick it up and drop it again, over and over and over. With never ending fascination. I could easily liken this

Last weekend, July 14, 15, 16 that is, I was part of the Peggy’s Cove Festival of the Arts. That meant I had Open Studio Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Long hours; lots of people passing through. The best part was my studio hadn’t been that clean since I moved in! It isn’t so clean anymore, but that’s fine. The visitors and the conversations and seeing my work in a more or less clean space was very inspiring. So my studio is getting messy again. And it feels good. It did take m

One of my constant obsessions has been thinking about what makes something beautiful. People tell me my dog is beautiful. He’s just a puppy still, but he magnetizes other beings, all ages, sizes, species. He has a dignity in how he holds himself. That is, when he isn’t acting like a goofy nine-month old puppy. He has a basically lovely personality and that makes him beautiful. Or maybe it’s that he is well proportioned, has beautiful hair, sweet eyes, etc. I don’t really know

Here I am trying to explain the unexplainable. Not easy but interesting to try. Abstract art is non-verbal communication, not about words. So how does one interpret an abstract painting much less paint one. Where does one start, anyway. One of my students in Baddeck said her painting instructor suggested she tell her story in her painting. Wanting to work with abstraction, she didn’t feel this helped her get started. She did find, in the workshop, that just making a “mess”, a

This interview of me talking about my work is short, well done, beautifully edited and to the point.  Mary Ann Archibald did it recently for an on-line magazine she has about the arts in Halifax. Do check this one out: http://artshalifax.com/studio-interview-with-leya-evelyn/ #Communication #Abstractart #Creativity #arts #EasternCanada

Indigo Girls at Park West in Chicago, September 18, 2005. (left to right: Amy Ray and Emily Saliers) (Photo credit: Wikipedia) The Indigo Girls were on “Q” the other day. They’ve been making music together for more than twenty-five years. In that business, apparently that’s a long time for a group to stay together. I guess because I work alone, that thought seems strange. I’ve been at it for twice that long and I can’t imagine stopping. That would, indeed, be breaking up with