2025 — A year of movement, making, and coming home

As this year comes to a close, I’ve been looking back at 2025 with a mix of gratitude and quiet amazement. It was a year shaped by movement—across countries, homes, studios, and inner landscapes. A year that asked for flexibility, trust, and more energy than I sometimes thought I had. And yet, it gave so much in return.

January began in Costa Rica, where I hosted a sold-out artist retreat surrounded by lush landscapes and an incredibly open-hearted group of people. Our mornings were spent making art, and our afternoons unfolded outdoors—hiking, birdwatching, swimming near a waterfall, and experiencing the wildlife up close, including a magical night walk.

After the group left, David and I stayed on to explore more of the country. Driving north, we spent time at a quiet spa called Nemu, and later walked a jungle farm overlooking the Caribbean. Cows, monkeys, toucans, parrots—it all felt generous and alive.

In February, I returned to Sarasota and stepped back into learning mode, taking an abstract figurative class at the Sarasota Art Museum with Victoria Mayol, alongside conversational Spanish classes at Sun Coast Technical College. Both felt grounding and expansive in different ways.

March brought change. We put our beloved Sarasota home on the market—a decision filled with emotion—and traveled to Panama for the first time. We explored by car, hiking and spotting birds and monkeys, moving between the quieter north and Panama City. That same month, my work was featured in Elle Magazine (Germany), which still feels surreal and deeply affirming.

In April, David and I took a mosaic-making course together, continuing something that would weave itself through the year.

By May, I turned 60. Friends came from all over to celebrate, and David hosted a joyful party with live music and great food. It felt generous, warm, and full of life—something I’ll carry with me. More mosaic classes followed, alongside preparations to leave Sarasota.

June marked our return to Canada. I plunged into painting in preparation for my Ottawa exhibition—long days, very little sleep, and a sense of urgency I haven’t felt in years. It was intense, but also deeply satisfying.

In July, the LINGER exhibition opened at Wall Space Gallery in Ottawa, along with an artist talk that felt honest and connective. That same month, we found a tiny pied-à-terre in Montreal—a small basement apartment, but perfectly located. Having a place in the city where we could leave our things, bring the dogs, and feel rooted again felt like a gift. We also traveled to Vancouver to celebrate my sister-in-law Barb’s 60th birthday.

August was quieter in the best way—our wedding anniversary, and time spent catching up with friends and family in Gore and Montreal.

In September, we sold our Sarasota house and drove down to empty it out. Thankfully, it sold furnished, which made the process gentler. We loaded what we could into my trusty old van and placed the rest in storage, knowing we’d return for it later.

October brought a group exhibition at the Visual Arts Centre in Montreal. Opening night was a joy—so many familiar faces, old friendships resurfacing, and a sense of continuity. More time with friends and family followed.

In November, David and I visited Quebec City, staying at the Fairmont Château Laurier in the historic district. We also saw the Niki de Saint Phalle exhibition at the Musée des Beaux-Arts—a reminder of the power of conviction and play in art.

And now December. The holidays. And one more meaningful milestone: we closed on a condo in Montreal, in a historic building. We’re excited to move in and begin another chapter.

Looking back, 2025 feels like a year of transition, learning, celebration, and letting go. A year that reminded me how closely life and art are intertwined—and how important it is to stay open to change, even when it’s uncomfortable. I’m stepping into the new year feeling grounded, grateful, and ready to keep going.