Every year, Earth Day rolls around and I find myself reflecting a little more deeply. It’s not just a date on the calendar—it’s a pause. A breath. A moment to look at this world we live in and ask myself: am I paying attention?
As an abstract artist, nature is my starting point. Not necessarily in the form of trees or flowers painted exactly as they are, but in the rhythm of things. In the way light moves across the landscape, in the shifting palette of the seasons, in the quiet power of a mountain or the chaos of an overgrown garden. Nature doesn't ask for perfection—it just is. That’s something I carry into the studio every day.
Being in my studio in Gore, surrounded by nature, is a constant stream of inspiration.
I travel a lot, and each place I go leaves a mark. I’m always drawn to color and texture, and so much of that comes from the natural world—whether it’s the red earth of Africa, the mossy greens of the Laurentians, or the brilliant, sun-washed blues of the Mediterranean. These aren’t just beautiful scenes; they’re reminders of how interconnected everything is. Culture, climate, community, and land—they shape each other.
But let’s be honest: things are feeling a bit unhinged lately. The news is heavy. The weather is weird. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. I think that’s why Earth Day is starting to feel more urgent. It’s no longer just a celebration of the planet—it’s a call to take care of it. To slow down. To notice. To value what we have before it slips away.
In my own small way, I try to make art that invites contemplation. I want people to feel something when they look at my work, even if they can’t quite name it. Maybe it’s a feeling they’ve had while standing in the middle of nowhere, completely awestruck. Or maybe it’s something quieter—like the feeling of warm sunlight through a window or the hum of insects on a summer night.
Whatever it is, I hope it connects them, even briefly, to the natural world we’re all part of.
Earth Day reminds me that inspiration isn’t separate from responsibility. If nature gives me so much, the least I can do is respect it. And maybe, through art, encourage others to do the same.
—Claire