 My grandmother's name: Claudia Lumina Emma Bergeron (Née DuBois), Born May 19, 1904, Died February 5, 2000. Claudia was born on the family homesteaded farm in the Tarsus community east of Bottineau, North Dakota. She was one of 16 children. She married Leo Francis Bergeron on December 29, 1925. 4 children were born to this union. Her 3rd child a boy died at birth. Claudia taught school in the Toupin School District (Cordelia Township), North Dakota. She drove a team of horses pulling her buggy. When the harsh winters hit, a covered rig was equipped with sled runners and a small stove. She would arrive at school, light the furnace in the school, then sit in the toasty rig correcting papers until the school was warm. Claudia wrote that “the teacher was really a tutor, mother, nurse, coach for the playground games, counselor, and janitor.” Claudia taught school in North Dakota on and off for about 10 years. Education: Rural School in Toupin District( Cordelia Township), ND, Norte Dame academy, Willow City, North Dakota, Normal School, State School of Forestry, Bottineau, North Dakota. Claudia was a leader in her community and her church. She and her husband won the Soil conservation award in 1954. My grandmother taught in a one room school, was a farm wife and Mother. She raised her family in the homesteaded home built by her father. Although she has been gone many years now, I still remember her with fondness. The more modern picture was taken about 1984. The vintage one about 1924. I have lots of information about my grandmother. She even left a letter to her grandchildren, that she wrote and was given to us at her funeral. She wrote her story in a book “Remember Me by the Words You See” She was loved by many and she returned this love to all. ~Cynthia Sifri
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 I always find inspiration and a strong work ethic go hand-in-hand...it seems once the muse hits, I tend to be off and running. Except when I'm struggling with the direction to take with a painting. That's when I am thankful to work in series as I can begin something new, sometimes several something new's' which tends to help me problem-solve with the piece I'm finding challenging. Just continuing to work either helps me come up with a new solution or just jump starts my brain to get excited about a new idea or path to take. I find it works wonders for me. When I struggle with work, I just keep working anyway...just on something new so that I don't overwork the piece I'm struggling with in the first place as that is another problem.
 As I've been updating things in our home, my creative spaces have grown. Now I have a drawing/yoga/study/sewing room upstairs along with my painting studio down. I know that the painting space needs an update, but for now I'm really happy to have these separate spaces to use in different ways. There's something about moving around that gets my creative juices flowing, and it allows me to physically move when I'm feeling stuck on a project. Exercise like walking and a change of scenery is sometimes really important to recharge my brain a bit so that I can problem-solve. Sometimes it also helps kick start ideas by changing media (pencil to paint) or subject matter (portraits to landscapes). Anyway, it's feeling pretty good.
 Communication in Sensation Cyfathrebu yn Sensation this is a declaration of love, shamanist in the lost name of a colour which no longer exists in the language beyond words to express-- I stand breathless in the doorway at the hospice, the portal to bardo between the blurred lines of birth and death in the place that holds no time just Nain my Grandma, Nain in Welsh a hundred and one and a half laughs in the face of her epitaph and then asks me to join her on her journey through death, cryfder I say: absolutely-- yes we begin the dance of marwolaeth we do not know the steps and yet, we dance, we dance ddaear y gwaed as we live life Nain and I follow the lines as they are given we move forward dip our toes into the other side as if to test imaginations crest like the Holy Head coastline tide and then, we return to this realm half glorified, to catch our breath no time between our stars we know we do not know where we are going she reaches her boney hands into the twilight hour, up, up tells me: it’s snowing, it’s snowing-- I see her taste frozen light on her tongue in a language betwixt and between when I was young, she taught me to tie my laces, to tell time, and sound out each letter now, she shows me how to walk through yn marw and speaks in the language of soul we share eyes, surrender control and then we dance again dip our feet into the other side and return, again, fortified next we go deeper into death up to our ankles, our shins, our thighs no time between our stars until we are magnified Pleiades we know where we are going we are waist deep and then, up to our necks in death Nain looks over and into me with her final breath and exits in a language of the sea I know instantly, what she is saying I don’t want her to leave I don’t want her to leave me she tells me mind-to-mind, to mind it’s time she goes on without me, hedfan fly ffarwél music of the unknown wonders cry ffarwél, as she leaves her spirit with me for safe-keeping I hear a million hynafol voices speaking in languages lost to my people weeping, end of oak Celtiberian-ease and stones, end of wind and bardic poems crossbones scattered across the earth in llwch i’r llwch, tones ffarwél to the natural world word, lingua franca of birds heard—pictures oneiric, names of ways of seeing and being honeycomb—hieroglyphic pic’s, alphabetic scripts, all connected to this earth in metaphysics musica universalis metamorphosis symbols of symbols of cyphers of signs coded in code encoded in storylines love is a dangerous threat glottophagy linguicide when the last speaker of a language dies the last words of Nain grow distant and pale almost thin, they grow thin as the human skin one hundred years frail becomes Cain paper becomes a spider web thread in the hail sometimes I am the language that just lost its last speaker not misunderstood, erased deleted by a friend impossible to comprehend maybe that is what leads me to poetry the words of Nain are distant now thinner somehow no time between our stars naill ai ©Sheri-D Wilson Poet Laureate, City of Calgary   "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." ~ Martin Luther King Jr.  As I've been de-cluttering and repainting our home, I've also been slowly working on the 'Cityscapes' paintings. It's been very interesting taking literal photographs of regions around the city of Calgary and translating them to layered images to represent something that evokes history or memories. I also incorporated Speedball white acrylic ink. It was so nice to use in my airbrush, both because of the colour and the application. Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing where this leads over the next year.
  This is my maternal grandma and great grandma, in one of the last photos taken of them taken together (below), just before my great grandma died of tuberculosis. I think you can see the sadness in her eyes, and the confusion in my grandma’s eyes as they face the camera, and perhaps, in some way, this event together. Photo was taken in my grandma’s native Trinidad, my great grandma emigrated there from Madeira. One vintage shot of her at age 3 with her mother, my maternal great grandmother, who died of TB soon after this photo was taken. Another more recent of her celebrating her 93rd birthday. She is now 94. ~ Gabrielle Clark
 I know I say it all the time, but one of my favourite local charities to support is the Airdrie Food Bank. Every year I paint a bowl for auction for the 'Empty Bowls' fundrasier and through the year I donate a painting for Shamrock Shimmy. This foundation is very important to me as 1/3 of the recipients of the Food Bank are children. This painting is titled 'Black Elderberries' which is based on a series of wildflower paintings found in the region and measures 8x10 inches (plus the frame). The event takes place on March 14 and tickets will be available through the Airdrie Food Bank.
 Working on another 52 WEEKS project (the sixth) I feel as though I've asked for so much in this collaboration. With the 'Nasty Women' project I only required the authorization of each woman who offered to be included as I was able to gather photographs off of their social media sites. This time I've asked for photographs and memories, which means collecting and writing, which I know is a lot to ask, but I am already seeing the fruits of these labours. I can't express enough how these stories touch me.
It's also been interesting as I've been watching 'Portrait Artist of the Year' on BBC and hearing the struggles of painting (specifically portraiture) has been quite eye-opening. Some focus on capturing an exact likeness while others prefer to capture a feeling (my personal favourite). Each artist has their own struggles...whether it be with eyes, lips, hair or hands. I used to find hair challenging but now love painting hair using whichever colours appeal to me with broad strokes. And I've always loved painting mouths and eyes. My greatest hurdle is to incorporate as much colour as I would like as I often seem to tone things down a little too much. Another thing I find fascinating as I watch other artists work on portraits is how differently they all approach it, from utilizing digital photography, to several sketches, to connecting with the subject in conversation. It's been fun to see.  My Grandmother, Lorraine Murphy was the true Matriarch of our family. She ruled & influenced without speaking any words, she didn’t have to, every glance was understood and so well respected by us all. She left her foundation of strength, courage in my mother, sisters, aunties, uncles and me , I love her so much for teaching us this gift. ~ Lianna Robberecht
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Honouring Ancestors
AIRdirondack Art Project
Placemaking
Counting Crows
Artists' Alley
Art-in-Motion
Publications
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