Farewell 2025

Summing up 2025 has been a challenge for me, hence this late post. Is it already a week and a half into 2026 and I still haven’t “wrapped” it up?

As the new year begins, it feels as though political dysfunction is at an all-time high. I’m repeatedly saddened by murders, totalitarianism, ongoing wars and conflicts—and by the emergence of new ones. At this edge of monumental technological advancement, I can’t help but ask: why can't we stop killing each other? It’s increasingly difficult to understand how these patterns persist.

In response to the world around me, I put considerable energy into my art throughout 2025. I’m proud to have completed about 14 new pieces. Some reflect a sense of numbness or my non-violent beliefs; others attempt to grapple with the breakneck pace of modernization unfolding around us. If human intelligence continues to fall short in solving our collective problems, perhaps artificial intelligence will step in. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Maybe this is why AI has been such a prevalent theme for me?

Throughout the year, I showed my work in exhibitions and taught a few new hookers to hook. Two solo shows, along with participation in a group exhibition, brought my work to new audiences. Some highlights included meeting new friends and sharing my craft through workshops at the Ferry Building and the Harrison Ranger Station. The City Hall Galleria show in Richmond was meaningful, as it allowed me to see most of my work displayed together. I’m currently applying for and planning several exhibitions for 2026, and my next workshop is coming up this February.

Travel also brought moments of joy and calm. I was fortunate to experience a few bucket-list paddling adventures, including canoeing with family and friends on the largest no-motors-allowed lake in the province. Another solo kayak trip merged my love of the full moon with my craft—I hooked by moonlight. Those moments felt

deeply peaceful.

This autumn, however, brought profound sadness. I lost my father in October. That loss was gutting. But it also unexpectedly opened a new part of me—one connected to place. Although we were close, Dad lived across the country, in the heartland of our Acadian heritage. Growing up in the west, in and around Vancouver, my connection to place has always felt fragile. My childhood homes no longer exist, replaced by infrastructure and development. Being out east helped me better

understand that instability and reconnect with my French roots. After the funeral, before I had even left, I found myself making plans to return “home”. I will be back next summer.

2025 was a major turning point. It included some very difficult moments, alongside unexpected opportunities for growth. Reconnecting with family, heritage, and place has reshaped how I move forward. As 2026 unfolds, I remain curious—wondering what comes next, and how I will continue to respond through making. I wish you all best wishes for 2026 and hopefully we can get this planet spinning the right way round.