Winter, it turns out, can be full of colour.
Because it means stillness is never really stillness. Even on the greyest winter morning, life is out there, moving, carrying on, leaving its little signatures in the snow for anyone who slows down enough to notice. Evidence that life had moved through this same space only moments before us. While I was still waking up, the forest had already been busy with small journeys and quiet adventures.
This past winter, my mornings started the same way. With thick wool gloves and a toque, heavy boots, and my dog exploring her way into the forest.
The snow made everything extra quiet with the kind of stillness where it feels like you've just stepped into something magical.
But of course, the forest was never empty because everywhere I looked, there were tracks.
Little prints crossing the path. Lines looping around tree trunks and slipping off between the branches. Trails that overlapped, doubled back, and wandered somewhere I’ll never know.
I became so curious and fascinated by the story underneath the imprints that I began photographing them.
I was drawn to the repetition, the shapes, and the direction. How each set of prints showed exactly where something had been going, and maybe how eagerly it got there.
It felt like evidence.
That’s where the idea of 'Patterns' began.
'Patterns' tells the story of wildlife moving through a space just before you arrive. A burst of pink and coral, full of evidence that the world is always in motion, even when it looks still.
Maybe that’s what I love most about this piece. It reminds me we’re never really alone out there. Every path we walk has already been walked by something small and curious and alive.
And maybe the same is true for us.
On the days that feel slow, when nothing seems to be changing, life is still quietly moving underneath. Leaving tracks. Making its way to the next adventure.
Maybe the motion you notice in the world is the motion that’s in you too.
This November, 'Patterns' is heading somewhere special.
It will hang at Station Gallery in Whitby as part of the Resilience Exhibition: The Art of Service, Strength, and Renewal, alongside two more of my pieces, 'Dream' and 'Possibility'.
Before I painted full time, I worked as a paramedic.
What I’ve learned since is that self-expression through art gives us a voice when we don’t yet have the words.
Seeing my painting practice not as separate from my life, but as something woven right through it, running alongside everything else, has been profoundly healing for me. And it has opened the door to meeting and connecting with incredible creatives from all over the world.
This exhibition celebrates the creativity and strength of people who serve our communities, and the small moments of renewal that keep them going. It felt like the perfect home for a painting about life that keeps moving, even when everything looks still.
If you’re nearby, I’d love for you to experience it in person.
The Resilience Exhibition runs from November 7 to December 26, 2026 at Station Gallery, 1450 Henry St., Whitby.
Wherever you’re walking this week, I hope you look down every now and then. You never know who passed by just before you.
With love,
Katherine
