Take Me Away
Leaving summer, transitioning to winter, Lori puts her goggles down and heads for snow country...but not before reflecting on what it takes to live and work as an artist in her favourite summer place.
What does it take to live and work as an artist in Muskoka? It’s a question I asked myself and others many times this summer in a column called From An Artist’s Perspective for Unique Muskoka magazine.
As I transition this month from summer to winter, I’m taking this space to reprise my first UM column (scroll down) called Take Me Away. It’s special to me, not just because it was my first, but also because it allowed me some space to reflect on my past decade living and working here—in this beautiful place—to which I returned after several decades in Toronto, and which allowed me to finish my first novel, Summers with Miss Elizabeth.
Writing that column also allowed me to consider what my future will hold now that we’re empty-nesters.
It’s true, I’m currently working on a prequal to that novel. But this winter I’m going to do it from a new place: Whistler, BC. As co-editor of Ski Canada magazine, it’s an ideal opportunity to re-immerse myself in that world. I’ll be writing about that experience bi-weekly in a special column for Ski Canada online, so far called Postcards from Whistler (working title!). I lived and worked in Whistler in the early 1990s; this new column explores how the ski town has changed, especially now that it’s turning 60. I know, tall order.
(I don’t have direct link yet to the column, but I will preview it each week here on Instagram.)
Also on the roster: my annual book reviews, which will go live on Substack in late December. Don’t hold your baited breath too long. My review process is fun but acutely biased and decidedly unscientific. Click here to see last year’s book reviews.
Until then, back to this month’s column AND once you’ve read it, this month’s question: What does it take to live and work as an artist in Muskoka?
From An Artist’s Perspective: Take Me Away
Somewhere I’ve been, the doctor’s or the dentist’s office, I’ve passed a surrealist painting of a woman on a dock in early morning, two feet dangling in still water. Something in her stillness makes me think of myself as I often am: alone in the soft light of dawn, sparkles on water, sounds of waves gently lapping. For a second I’m there, on that dock somewhere in Muskoka. The thought that comes to me amid the bustle of the doctor’s office: This is a skill, a remarkable skill, this ability to transport me away.
Recently I’ve had the luck and privilege to get to know people who can do this for me. Like many beautiful places, Muskoka attracts and traps artists—woodworkers, potters, painters, actors, writers like me. Some were born here, some retired here, some never left, and some came back after time elsewhere. Maybe it’s the rock, or the blue water, or the green of the trees. Or maybe it’s the snow, I don’t know. Whatever it is that’s drawing them here, they feel a need to draw the place back for me—to show me what they see. As a writer I’ve spent a lifetime trying to render Muskoka with words. I’m guessing it’s the same for sketchers and photographers, jewellers and furniture makers. See? I imagine them saying. See how magical this place is? See?
I was one of those who left and came back. At age 18 I’d never have guessed I’d come to live in Muskoka again. But you can’t take Muskoka out of a girl any more than you can take country out of a cowboy, so here I am in midlife, back again. And one of the best parts about being back is getting to know Muskoka artists.
Among the first I met upon my return was a wildlife and landscape painter called Wendie Donabie. She settled here in the second half of her life after a first half that was…peripatetic. “I think Muskoka chose me rather than the other way around,” she says of the place that’s finally claimed her. “Muskoka exudes a powerful energy, a magnetism created by the natural terrain. Inspiration exists everywhere.”
Donabie’s website quotes a French film director, Robert Bresson, who once advised artists to “make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.” Hmmm, I’m thinking, that explains things. Here in Muskoka, Donabie paints simple, natural landscapes: pine needles blanketing rock; a crocus popping up in early spring. As Muskokans we see these natural scenes every day—but do we really see them? It’s a question Donabie is exploring. I imagine that for her, the pine needles are like Horton’s Whos: “We are here, we are here, we are here!” It’s Donabie’s job to make them seen.
I come from a family of pilots and what astounds me most when I fly with them is the vastness of Muskoka’s lakes. There’s more water than land—more blue than green—at least as it appears to me from up high. Which may explain why a second artist I’ve come to know, a photographer called Andy Zeltkalns, is embracing drone photography. “I search for unique perspectives,” he tells me. “Capturing photos with a drone, with its unique birdseye view, has opened up many new possibilities.” From snow-laden landscapes to shimmery patterns created by light on water, “the perspective from above,” Zeltkalns says, “can be truly stunning.”
This perspective, this artist’s perspective, is not one most of us get to witness every day. Here in my office on a dark February day, gazing at Zetlkalns’ images—well, again, I’m transported away. See? I imagine him saying. See how magical this place is? See?
What was it Donabie’s French film director said? “Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”
From the Spring 2005 edition of Unique Muskoka Magazine.
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I Hope…
I hope you read my book, Summers with Miss Elizabeth, and I hope you love the story as much as I do. I’m working on producing an audiobook now, out soon. And I’m in the midst of writing the prequal, its working title: Summers with Gin.
You can order Summers with Miss Elizabeth in print or e-book HERE or pick up a copy at one of the shops listed on my website loriknowles.com.
PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT here on Substack (below) or on Instagram or Facebook, I’d love to hear from you.
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Lori Knowles is a writer, author, journalist, co-editor of Ski Canada magazine, and editor of MuskokaStyle.com. Her first novel, Summers with Miss Elizabeth, was published May 1, 2024. See loriknowles.com for more information, and stay tuned to LORI’S STORIES.
I tend to link everything to culture, which means I do not have a favourite place or a vision of paradise. I am equally inspired by the Muskoka Lakes, the Queens Quay, Little Greece, downtown Kingston and Old Quebec City. Each of these has a different message, which challenges me to understand the particular culture. Also, each one brings out something different in me. Dingle, Ireland, caught me off guard with its spectacular beauty and ability to intimidate with its vastness, openness and simplicity. It became, at the time, a favourite place because I had never been challenged that way before. And the culture seemed to breathe a new outlook on life. Death, mortality, life and freedom all joined hands. Muskoka is a cultural mix, and many of the messages I receive from the area are negative. Yes, it's beautiful, and it can be best enjoyed by sharing expressiveness through the arts. But sadly, there is also a culture of carelessness and a total disregard for our natural gifts. In a place like downtown Toronto, there is a different setting, but it too, is a masterpiece, juxtaposed with a mad, unrestricted physical growth. The politics of change is also far more relevant in the big urban areas. So it's all about us, our eyes, ears, touch and most importantly our hearts. We must be pure and beautiful inside.
In answer to your question, I think it takes getting to know myself better and seeing that person reflected in the landscape and the people. It’s about making connections, then discovering my own unique way of sharing that experience.
Enjoy your skiing adventure rediscovering Whistler