Emily van Lidth de Jeude

At long last, here are the two installations I've been working on, both debuted this weekend at the Bowen Island Arts Tour, in the Nankins' beautiful garden (and pool!) With enormous thanks to my partner, Markus, without whose substantial help these large works would not exist.

I'm just finishing up two new installations that will premiere at the Here's Bowen Arts Tour, this weekend. One is this driftwood poetry sculpture, which I'll be performing on Saturday, in the early afternoon. The other... is in the pool!!! And if you're wanting to add to your art collection, I'll have lots of with me, as well as smaller paintings, books and photos. Come find me and other fabulous artists on Bowen Island:  Hub 21 (310 Forest Ridge Rd) May 24 & 25,    11am-4pm What a blast this weekend is going to be! See more here: https://bowenartstour.com/  

I'm so happy that the (dis)robe: Hospital Gown piece I made last year will be on display this autumn in Vancouver, but meanwhile... I get to wear it to an art event in my hometown, tonight!! This is will be the first time I've shown it locally, and I'm REALLY nervous. This piece is all about my disability, and to say people roll their eyes when I talk disability is an understatement. But this piece features other people from our community, too, so it's time to REPRESENT!!! Here I go!  Off to the Bowen Island Community Centre. :-) Will update this post with a photo, later, if someone takes one.  UPDATE: It was a pretty quiet event, but nice to meet some other artists and visit with friends. I think only one person scanned the QR but that's OK! Here are some photos from before I actually put the gown back on and went inside... Thanks to my partner Markus, not only for these photos, but for always supporting me both in life and in art. If you're wondering where tha...

Once I lost my son in the forest. We were heading home through ferns taller than his three-year-old self, he carrying a harvest of licorice ferns and I carrying his baby sister and some oyster mushrooms. He followed along behind me, and when I turned around, he was gone. I called repeatedly. I retraced my steps. I gripped by baby girl to my chest and started running, panicking, and-- there he was, nestled into a sword fern, chewing on a piece of licorice fern root. He looked up blandly at my stricken face and said "I'm just havin' some licorice root." His trance-like state may have been induced by the well-known calming medicine of licorice fern, or it may have been just his joyful state of mind after a couple of hours spent wandering the forest with his mother and sister.   My kids and I spent part of most days of their childhood out in the forest, exploring. That's what I did as a mother because it's what I knew to do from my own childhood, spent here in thi...

Acrylic portrait of my mother, Lyn van Lidth de Jeude, with her guitar. My hands held on strong to the red plastic hand-grips of my BMX. No handlebar tassels for me, but I could get to where I was going when I needed to, and today I was rolling home, dragging the toes of my runners along the sharp shale of our driveway. I could hear Mum’s voice and guitar getting slowly louder as I went. The door of our green and white metal-clad trailer stood open to the wind and the May bird-song, and the familiar sounds of my mother drifted out onto the afternoon. As I dumped my bike against the dog-house and stepped up the porch to the sounds I knew so well, her words filled my mind: Everybody thinks my head's full of nothin’ Wants to put his special stuff in Fill the space with candy wrappers Keep out sex and revolution But there's no hole in my head Too bad* I was mildly alarmed. Not so much because Mum was obviously singing about a gunshot to the head—horrific bloody murder was typical o...

Uncle Ralph holding baby Taliesin It was a cloudy day in a November of my childhood when Uncle Ralph gave me my first carving tools. Of course, he wasn’t called ‘uncle’ yet, at the time, but never mind. I was probably about ten, and it was a rough time in my childhood, for a lot of reasons. If I’m remembering the correct occasion, he arrived without Auntie Lidia, alone on his motorcycle, round leather riding goggles pinching in the top of his hair while the rest of it flew out behind him. Even his beard flew along beside him as he rode down our driveway. He’d come by for my birthday, and I remember his wonderfully long brown eyebrows and much longer braided beard leaning down to me with a most beautiful leather bag held out in his dark hands that always looked more weathered than you might expect for a man his age. "Here. Got you this.” He said, and opened the bag to show me all the different types of tools he’d packed into it. I remember thinking how annoying it was that he said ...