Episode #11 Kirk Sutherland Dialing In His Senses

Painting thousands of paintings, having public artworks involved in Hollywood productions, and being a frequent lecturer are just a few of the tools Sutherland has used over his three decades of being a Professional Artist in the Toronto area. 

Being a prolific Artist is whats his creative practice has become. Kirk Sutherland doesn't know it any other way. It is a meditative state of flow. As an experienced Colourist and Abstract painter, that has for many years seen things differently with Synesthesia. Where he craves colours in the middle of the night because he tastes them with his mind.  This isn't something strange, it is merely how he understands his world. 

Join me as we do a deep dive on Kirk Sutherland's influences, how he understands his imagination, teaching, and his world around him. What professors influenced him while he was a student at OCAD during what he calls the golden age of learning.    

Enjoy more of Kirk Sutherland's Art on his website:

https://www.kirksutherland.com/about

Podcast Interview Credits
Sound Effects from Pixby
Audio Links from https://freemusicarchive.org/
Podcast by Carolyn Botelho

Transcript

Hey everyone, welcome back to the Creatively Thinking Podcast. Join Carolyn Botelho as she uncovers the inspirations behind some incredibly creative minds that are orbiting our local communities. Hello Kirk Sutherland.
 
 Hello, how you doing? I'm good, I'm good. Your work inspired me on Facebook and I'm happy to finally meet you digitally. Thank you very much, it's a pleasure to meet you as well.
 
 You are a Toronto-based artist with 30 years of experience, graduating with honours from OCAD U, Ontario College of Art and Design University. Your works are collected internationally and you are a renowned colourist for many years. When did you discover your synesthesia in your career? Can you describe this for our audience and how it has become central to your creativity? I wasn't aware of having synesthesia until somewhere around 2015 and I discovered it because I stumbled across some essays and some data on synesthesia and I was reading about this thing and I'm thinking like, yeah, I checked all the boxes, this is me, this is normal, isn't everybody this way? Because I've spent my whole life up until that point thinking that everybody saw the world the way I saw it.
 
 Everyone had this blending of the senses, that everyone would hear a sound and then they would associate it with something that was completely diametrically opposed to what that sound would be. But it would marry into the same thing. And that just isn't the case.
 
 Not everybody at all saw the world that way. And what I was able to do at that point, and I'm still doing it, and I'm talking to people that I haven't talked to in a long time that knew me when I was a teenager, and they would say, yeah, or they have said even recently, yeah, you didn't function the same way as everybody else did. Your brain was definitely different.
 
 You had a different way of looking at things, perceiving things, and it wasn't a bad thing. It's just, no, you absolutely were not typical by any means. So when I discovered this, it made a lot of sense to me because when you have synesthesia, you see a lot of things, you hear a lot of things, you experience a lot of things on the one half.
 
 But on the other half, you have some deficits. You definitely have an element of your existence that is not as amplified. So with that, I realized some of the things that I needed to work on, and I've been able to work on those things as well.
 
 Just put it this way. People with synesthesia sometimes miss cues. We miss kind of obvious cues, and there's things that we think are obvious that people can't see.
 
 So it's not frustrating, really, but I can now look back and see certain situations that have happened in my life and how synesthesia has been the reason for those situations, the culprit, so to speak. But I did discover it around 2015, and it certainly is something that, just because I didn't know I had it, it didn't mean that I wasn't enhanced by it. So it's absolutely enhanced my creative process.
 
 And that gets me thinking of our second question. Did you always see synesthesia as a bonus to your practice? Synesthesia? Pardon? Yeah, I have trouble saying it. Synesthesia.
 
 Seems like a bit of a mouthful. Did you always see it as a bonus to your practice? How were you able to see the positive before you reached your current point of view as an artist? Having this distinctly different style, were your contemporaries accepting or competitive? Well, you really don't know what you don't know. And you only know what your knowledge is in captivating.
 
 So I wouldn't have known any different, to be honest with you, because I'm wired this way. I don't know how other people are perceiving things. And we never know what anybody else's true thoughts and their process and their point of view really is.
 
 We can't dive in their mind. We're just living this existence in an honor system of trust that someone is conveying this information and it's accurate. As someone who's a synesthete, who has synesthesia, I wouldn't know the world any differently than that.
 
 I quite often say it's like the squirrel. The squirrel collects nuts and digs holes and does that instinctively. And having synesthesia, it's just my instincts.
 
 It's part of who I am. It wouldn't be something that I give a lot of thought to unless it's pointed out. It's pointed out and then I'll realize I might have done that because I have synesthesia.
 
 But I don't know any different. And I never did all my life. All my life, I never thought of it.
 
 And as I said, it took a very long time before this phenomenon was kind of pointed out. It was pointed out to me almost in a very, well, I'm not saying almost, it was a spiritual thing. And then others that had studied it were finding it interesting to study me and the fact that I am a synesthete.
 
 So what exactly is a way of describing it? Is it your senses are guiding you entirely? Although that kind of sounds like what artists do in the first place anyway. So I'm just trying to wrap my head around it. Okay.
 
 I can give you examples, for instance. Okay. So have you ever baked a cake before? Yeah, maybe a long time ago.
 
 Okay. So you've been, you've either baked a cake or you've made something that required cake batter. So cake batter has a particular texture to it.
 
 Right. It's thick. You have to whisk it.
 
 When I hear a particular high heel shoe hit a particular kind of floor, not necessarily pavement, usually some kind of artificial flooring, that to me is the same as the whisking motion of cake batter. When I hear the number nine, it's bananas. When I drank a slightly young Merlot from the New World and I consume it and it's halfway past my palate, I visualize circles with spikes and spheres, almost linear drawings.
 
 They come right out. When I hear sounds, they turn into images. When I paint and I see color, I can taste the color.
 
 Not in my mouth, I taste it in my mind. So I crave that color. I'll wake up at 3 o'clock, 3.30 in the morning, crave purple, crave orange.
 
 Just like someone needs something to drink. But it's coming from the mind. I think all things come from thoughts.
 
 Because if we think that we're thirsty and we're thinking that we're hungry, eventually you're going to get there. Your thoughts are going to create your reality. So that's my reality.
 
 And it's completely tied into my creative process. And a lot of it does correlate around color. A lot of it correlates around the flavor of color.
 
 Or the visualization of sound. Or a particular day that might be, you know, this is a green day. Well, you may be in the middle of the city, not even seeing trees and grass.
 
 But it's just the day smells like green. The day feels like green. That person's voice sounds yellow.
 
 That person's voice sounds like something that would not even correlate in a typical way. So that's synesthesia. And it's not something that slams you over the head.
 
 It's not something that is a distraction. People always say, man, it just must be unbelievable. No, it's what you know.
 
 It's what you know. Does the squirrel give any thought to collecting its nuts? No. Do I give any thought? No.
 
 It's my instincts. It's the way I am. It's the way I'm wired.
 
 This is my brain. And, yes, I fall into, synesthesia falls into a neurodivergent spectrum. So it's not like autism or being on the spectrum that way.
 
 There's several, you know. When you say you're neurodivergent, it just means you're not typical. And by no means is the way my brain functions, it isn't typical.
 
 And it's actually served me, I think, very, very well in my art career. And sometimes it's been a challenge in my interpersonal relationships because synesthetes tend to be rather introverted, rather sensitive. And, you know, all in all, I think that we're compassionate people.
 
 But, you know, I think there's an energy thing there too, that we feel these things. There's a crossover of senses. And spending time alone is pretty much the norm.
 
 You know, we're usually loners. So, but it's served me well. I like to ask artists, what made them choose this career path? Was it working with your hands, your emotional sensibility, or something else? Well, for me, it's not a matter of choosing.
 
 I came here with a purpose. I literally came here with a purpose. So there's many people in this dimension that everyone has a purpose, believe me.
 
 But they may not know what their purpose is. And that's why they may be depressed. Maybe they don't feel well.
 
 Maybe they're addicted. There may be any number of reasons why they're fighting through their life. It's because they're not following their purpose.
 
 It's because they may not even know what their purpose is. And I knew my purpose instinctively, again, right from the very beginning. Because before I could read or write, when I was three years old, I was inventing things, building things, creating things.
 
 I had already figured out and taught myself three-point perspective by the time I was six or seven years old. I was classically trained as a teenager. So I was always inventing.
 
 And it was always something that I needed to do. I would go through rafts of paper. Hundreds, thousands of drawings as a kid.
 
 Just constantly drawing, constantly drawing, creating, building. And there wasn't any pragmatic purpose behind it. It was just process.
 
 It was just to do it and get on to the next thing and do that. So for me, it's not something I chose consciously. I believe we all choose our life purpose.
 
 And I chose this life and this purpose before I came here. And when I got here, I started right away. Being a renowned colorist, does this confirm your sense of color is your strongest sense? Or because of your synesthesia, does this mean your senses are not defined? Although you just kind of said that.
 
 Or are they more intense? Are they distinctive in their perception? Well, yeah. But it's still a good question. I can elaborate on that.
 
 Because being classically trained and being a very serendipitous, spontaneous artist, to be honest with you. I also paint in a classical sense. And it may be strange to say that.
 
 But I think of myself kind of looking to the masters when it comes to composition. When it comes to the formalist realities of creating what's on the picture plane. All of the elements and principles of art are being used, being stretched, being taken advantage of in my process.
 
 Color absolutely is a dominant element in what I do. But so is texture. And so is movement as far as a principle goes.
 
 Line, form, shape. All of the elements. So, yeah.
 
 I think you've asked a great question. I would like to say that every one of my paintings, there's a dominant feature with color. But I think that it's balanced by the other elements and principles as well.
 
 And I'm consciously aware of that. So as much as I'm spontaneous and serendipitous, as I said. I'm very much wanting to create a picture plane that's, say, asymmetrical.
 
 And this is the way I'm going to go about it. Or purposely skew it so that the balance tends to be over here. And then it weighs down here.
 
 I'm always thinking that way. And I'm always trying to do things that challenge the picture plane. And challenge what could be viewed as being innovative.
 
 Always trying to innovate. Always trying to invent. So, really, I come from a code of originality when I'm painting.
 
 More than anything else. Where I don't know half the time if I'm an artist, a painter, a romantic, or an inventor. Someone who's being innovative.
 
 And trying to be a trailblazer. As far as creating what I'm doing. Because there is that sort of sense of wanting to push what we know into a different level.
 
 And that could be done with color. That could be done with the other elements and principles. But I like to think I'm kind of balanced with it all.
 
 To be honest with you. But color, absolutely. I'm a colorist.
 
 So, yes. To paint black and white paintings every day for the next 20 years, I couldn't do that. Although black and white and gray are colors.
 
 I just would need more of a variety for my own sensibility. Being a practicing artist for three decades, how have you seen your style of abstraction move through popularity and trends of the time? Has your particular sensory experience set you apart from others? Or has it allowed you to blend in with other artists within the gallery? And I apologize. The last question, you were talking about my peers.
 
 And I can kind of bring this into this question as well. I don't really give it much thought what anybody else is doing. I'm not influenced by critics.
 
 I'm not influenced by art dealers or anybody, to be honest with you. If they like what I'm doing, fine. If they don't like what I'm doing, fine.
 
 I'm very neutral on that. The challenges in my life creatively have long since been confronted. I'm very confident when it comes to, you know, my creative process and what I do.
 
 That in itself is, that in itself, I don't give it much thought. I just do what I have to do. I do what I feel like doing.
 
 So throughout the decades, so if you say like when I left school, that would have been, oh, I hate to say it, about 33 years ago. So I've been practicing professionally. I've been represented for 33 years on and off, depending on what I was doing.
 
 And there's been an evolution. What I was doing 30 years ago, there's some things that I was doing then that I would be still doing now. But I don't think you'd really recognize the work because it's been a slow process, a gradation as such, something that was moving in increments as I moved along.
 
 And if you're moving incrementally in 33 years, you're going to see a quantum paradoxical change. If you look at what I'm doing now versus to what I was doing in 91. But it makes sense if you look at the whole process and you look at everything that I've done.
 
 And there has been changes. I was working with, back in 1991, I was working with routers and cutting into wood. There was still that element of serendipity.
 
 It was so far removed from the fact that I knew I had synesthesia at the time. But that moved into working more three-dimensionally. I did a lot of work with relief and working with wood and building things that came out of the wall, more sculptural.
 
 And in the last decade, a little over a decade, I've been mainly painting on canvas. Some wood with what I'm sort of known for today. But this aesthetic right now was built on a gradual sort of evolution.
 
 And that's just the way I am. And when I see changes in my work, they may be big to me. But someone from the outside may say, I don't know.
 
 Yeah, I can see a teeny change. For me, it might be bigger because I'm actually making it. That I'm reducing something or whatever else.
 
 But I must say before I end the answer here, that I'm always trying to make myself feel uncomfortable. Because when you're creating, you never want to be predictable. And predictability means that you are feeling a sense of comfort.
 
 And you're doing something in a way of repetition. Repeating it. And that in itself becomes complacent.
 
 And I don't want to feel that way. So as much as I may go to bed at times going, I just can't believe I left it like that. I purposely leave things that bug me.
 
 And I know when that happens, it creates the tension in the work that needs to be there. And because it's there, it's propelling me forward a little bit. And a little bit more.
 
 So yeah, I hope I answered the question. But that's kind of it in a nutshell. Yeah, I think you answered it.
 
 Have you found that having synesthesia has changed your inspiration visually? Or is your creative practice simpler, more difficult or adaptive in how your senses have compensated for your new reality? I don't think synesthesia really inspires me. It's just who I am. Yeah, it's part of who you are.
 
 It would certainly, if I didn't have synesthesia and I was influenced by someone who did, then I would take the inspirational realities of that person's work or what that person said or did or spoke about and I would be possibly inspired or influenced by it. What influences me is really what I call a stream of consciousness. I'm influenced by the material.
 
 I'm influenced by the colour itself, which maybe it's the way I perceive it, but that's not the inspiration, it's the colour that's inspiring. I could be inspired by anything. Anything and everything I see goes into a vault or goes into some kind of filing system in my brain.
 
 And I'll pull it out. I'll go underneath a bridge and say, that is absolutely sweet perfection. The imperfection of those stains underneath this bridge, I need to extract that.
 
 That'll go into my mind. I'm not big on going around taking pictures. No, I extract it.
 
 It goes into my file and it will come out as I paint. I may see a broken tile in a public space and look at the shape of the tile. Look at the edge.
 
 Look at the colour. Just look at the obscurity of it and say, that's absolutely amazing. That just happened.
 
 It happened and nobody's noticing it. So I'm going to celebrate that. It goes into where I want to store it and it may or may not come out.
 
 Those are the things that inspire me. Experiences and feelings and emotions. But, you know, I'm all about the unseen world.
 
 I'm all about the metaphysical world that cannot be seen. So I almost hypocritically or in a paradoxical way, as a visual artist, I'm actually interested in the unseen. My eyes are going in the opposite direction.
 
 I'm kind of looking within. I look on the outside. I bring it in.
 
 I'm looking in. And it's the feelings and experiences. And some of my titles are just based on, a lot of my titles are based on the experience at the moment.
 
 You know, a cicada came down and landed beside my painting. So he shared an afternoon with this beautiful creature that was in the ground for 17 years. So how could I not name this painting after the cicada? You know, it's ascension.
 
 17 years. Came and said hi to me. So that's an experience I extracted.
 
 And it was during the process. The inspiration might have been in the title. The inspiration might have been in the energy.
 
 And the inspiration is that because of this happening, there might have been, you know, chemical changes going on. Or whatever it might be. But that's just one just example.
 
 There's thousands because I've made thousands of paintings. And every one of them I believe to be important. No one painting has any more importance than the other.
 
 They're all purposeful. They all have meaning. So you make the unseen visible.
 
 Is that what you were saying earlier? Well, yes. Because feelings, emotions, and thoughts are not tangible. You can't hold them in your hand.
 
 And you can't see a feeling. So if I say to you, can you give me the mathematical equation? Or can you give me the recipe to whip up some love? And love will be just physically in a bowl there for you. Not possible.
 
 No. Because love is an energy. You can't see it.
 
 But it's real. It's real. It's an energy.
 
 You can't see feelings. You can't see anger. You can see the result of anger.
 
 You can see the result of anger. But you can't see the energy. It is unseen.
 
 And that's the seminal place I like to be. That's where I like to go. That's where I center my creative energy.
 
 Yeah. You are prolific with your artworks. I am always curious how artists manage to sell all their works.
 
 Or do they have other homes to store their extra works in? Although you have thousands of works in collections, so it must be from your experience over time that sells, right? Or is there a secret you can share with our audience on your marketability? I'm not a marketing expert. I do have people that I work with. So I do have a marketing consultant.
 
 I do have people that handle some of the business side of things. And I can't say that that's one of my fortes, to be honest with you. I even found it to be a struggle at first when social media was presented to me.
 
 I thought to myself, oh, my. Everything that I've learned, everything that I've been trained to do, all the professional practice that they were teaching me at OCAD, and it usually had to do with integrity. All artists have integrity.
 
 Real artists have integrity. Real artists never sell themselves out. Real artists never put themselves out there as some kind of celebrity or something, which is actually incorrect.
 
 Because if you look at Picasso, you look at Kandinsky, you look at all of these artists. They were marketing themselves. Look at the photographs they had of themselves.
 
 Look at Monet. Yeah, they're all like that. And Warhol was a master.
 
 He was a master marketer. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was really what his art was all about. It dovetailed exactly what he was doing.
 
 So I became comfortable with that. While I allowed people that were professional, and I still do. I've got art dealers.
 
 I've got art consultants. I work with curators and directors and whatnot. And, you know, that's the situation.
 
 But opportunities kind of, you know, they show up. And as I said, I'm a spiritual person. I give gratitude for everything that comes my way.
 
 Everything I have, the roof over my head, I am very, very thankful. And, you know, there's always enough. There's just enough.
 
 And it's not ego driven, but if something sort of comes my way, I find out that three paintings just sold this week, or there's a public art piece that I'm, you know, going to be sort of engaging upon or whatever else. It just sort of happens. And it's strange that the world kind of works that way.
 
 It sounds like pennies from heaven and whatnot, but it's a little bit like that. And then there's a lot of hard work and a lot of hard drive. I mean, when you're in the studio for hours and hours, days and days, months and months.
 
 There's been times where I've shut the world right off, and I've done nothing but paint for 14 hours a day. You know, it's just me and music going. And sometimes I've taken it outside into the hot sun.
 
 There's times when I'm just in my studio, in my sort of internal environment. That's really what it's all about. The marketing aspect is not my forte.
 
 I could probably, you know, from that aspect, we could all learn a little more as artists. And as I said, sometimes it goes against the grain. It goes against my own grain.
 
 But I realize it's a necessary condition in today's society. And there isn't any point in making paintings that will be in a closet or paintings that'll just be in the archives. If you're making work that's relevant, and you think you can change the world a little bit, or you can make someone happy or even heal people, then it's better that it's out.
 
 It's out in the public. It's purchased, and it's in someone's collection where, you know, it'll make their day a little brighter, something that they desire and love. And it holds absolutely no practicality beyond that.
 
 It's unconditional love. That's what it is. And so that's important.
 
 So going through the process is a very good process. And I think the exchange of money is a healthy scenario too. So as far as marketing goes, I just do what I do.
 
 And I try to keep it professional and try to keep it within, you know, the range of what I think is right within my practice. Your work appears to be very fluid, similar to action painting. Do you see your work as having any direct influences from art history, or do you see your work as multidisciplinary, postmodern, or another classification I haven't mentioned? I think it's very, very important for all artists to know what happened before them, to have not only a good understanding, but a great understanding of art history.
 
 And when you go to school and you go to university or you go to a college and you spend four years, during that time, you will be rigorously studying art history. So you will, whether you like it or not, you're going to gain an understanding. And if you are a true artist, if you come here to make art, you will be like a sponge.
 
 You will absorb as much information as you possibly can and have a real internal dialogue and a real internal knowledge of as much information about the various movements, of course, the artists, the techniques, and everything else. And I had that opportunity. And I do lecture. 
 
 I lectured last night. I lecture, that's what I do, as well as being a practicing artist. I'm lecturing all the time.
 
 And I've got a very, I believe, vast knowledge of art history, but I'm still learning something new every day because I'm reading every day. And with that, I've been absolutely influenced by so many artists, mainly in the 20th century. You could look at people like Blake, William Blake, from the Romantic movement.
 
 He is a poetic influence upon me. He's an influence upon me in spirit. Is he pictorially? No, no.
 
 Chagall, is he pictorially influential? Somewhat, but you really wouldn't see it in an obvious way. Monet, more so, yes, probably. But the New York School, when you look at what happened after World War II, where all of a sudden, New York became the capital of art.
 
 It was no longer Paris. And you had your Kleins and your Pollocks and you had your Frankenthalers. And my hero, my hero is Hoffman.
 
 So Hans Hoffman, I think about Hans Hoffman not only every day, but several times a day, sometimes all day long, comes into my mind, right? So Frank Stella, post-painterly abstraction. A lot of the non-representational painters that allowed the painting to be the subject matter. That these paintings, in a lot of ways, did not have a narrative.
 
 That's where I come from. My paintings have no narrative. They're not telling you a story.
 
 They're really, it's a stream of consciousness. Yes, it's embedded with the realities of the unseen, but there is no narrative. And I tend to see the world that way.
 
 So as a person who has lectured and taught and instructed for 30 years as well, every time I see a composition, it could be high realism. But see, I break it down. I always look at things in a very non-representational way.
 
 Circles, squares, textures, color. And I look at the various principles. So I never kind of look at it as a house or mountains or a figure.
 
 I break it down into the denominators. And that may have a lot to do with synesthesia too, to be honest with you. But I'm not alone.
 
 I know there's other artists that I have been influenced by that did see the world that way as well. On top of that, I was very much influenced by my professors at OCAD, Dan Solomon, Paul Sloggett, Gordon Rayner, Graham Coftree, Robert Hedrick, Jim Tiley, and an individual that was very, very important for two years. He was a master colorist, known internationally.
 
 And he taught at OCAD for a while. That was Francois Thépot. And he was a French artist and designer.
 
 And he wrote a lot of books and a lot of information and a lot of essays and studied color, just like Joseph Albers did. And I had an opportunity to study under him for two years. So that was wonderful and important as well.
 
 So these people really influenced me because I think I went to OCAD during what I call the golden era, where these heroes that were in all our textbooks were like we were being taught by them. Eventually, I became friends with them and went to their studios. It was wonderful.
 
 It was a beautiful synergy. We got to see what they were all about. It was a sharing of information.
 
 So all of this is influential. Art history is extremely important. That's all we talked about at school.
 
 And when I talk with my peers now, it's a different language. We will have conversations that the general public would be absolutely, in most cases, having difficulty understanding because we dig and dig a hole so deep on art history and artists and movements and the philosophy behind things and the subjective realities, what we think, who was relevant, who wasn't relevant, and what we bring into our studio, what we don't, what we're influenced by. But for me, yeah, Frankenthaler and Hoffman and painters like that.
 
 Just Jack Bush. Oh, Jack Bush. Mark Rothko.
 
 Mark Rothko. I mean, yeah. Richard Diebenkorn.
 
 I'm missing so many. But yeah, so, so, so important. Kandinsky, who had synesthesia, by the way.
 
 And yeah, so, yeah, absolutely. I eat, drink, and sleep art history. Yes.
 
 Because your work is so fluid and active, have you ever considered taking your medium to another level, say with sculpture or possibly encaustics, as a way to explore and expand your content to a different dimension? Well, as far as materials go, over, well, let's go back to being even in school. I was experimenting with so many different things and so many different materials and media. Yeah, I've worked with glass.
 
 I've worked with steel. I've worked with, I've mentioned wood. I've worked with things that you can't even find anymore because they were pretty toxic.
 
 To try to, A, I guess, gather a notion of how it would work as a medium. And secondly, what kind of impression it would leave, so to speak. So I've used a lot of materials.
 
 I've actually taught a lot of courses on media and materials as well. So as far as sculpture goes, not really in abundance, not like painting, but I've made my fair share of sculptures throughout the years, three-dimensional designs, either in maquette or larger scale. As far as encaustic goes, I've never worked with wax before.
 
 I have not worked with wax. It's a beautiful, beautiful medium. I look at a great many artists that have played with it before.
 
 Sean Scully, for instance, his paintings sort of come across rather matte. And there's this sort of trend to have everything glossy in the last, well, I think it's kind of fading now, but it was the big trend for 15 years. Glossy, glossy, glossy.
 
 And I look at Sean Scully, and it's like you just get relief. That nature of that material is beautiful and natural. Yes, sure.
 
 That would be something that if I had the opportunity at some point to explore, I would never say no to anything, to be honest with you. I don't like to be bogged down, and I don't like my process to be in a position of being diverted. I've had that happen, where I'm in the middle of doing something, and then a project comes along, and then I never got back to it.
 
 So I wasn't able to fully render away and chip away at a particular idea. And I find that frustrating. So it's a peripheral thing.
 
 But if I ever found myself in a position where I kind of hit a dead end, and I'm like, I don't want to, I can't make another painting in this particular aesthetic. Sure, I could see myself possibly moving into something like that. I don't know right now.
 
 But you wouldn't know it from what I do right now. But if you were to go back and see and witness and sort of look at a chronicle of what I've done, what I've made, what I've used, there's nothing that I haven't tried. Yeah, you were saying that earlier.
 
 Yeah. I mean, yeah. You name it, I've done it, even in the most obscure of ways.
 
 And then again, as I say this, there's always something out there that would be brand new and unique and would be exciting. Because when you're learning new things, you kind of go back to square one. So I'm sure there's a lot of things out there that I will stumble across in the next 50 years and try out if I have to.
 
 How did working for the Hollywood film industry, where you were working on public art in urban spaces, come about? Was this through connections you had with galleries, your colorist experience, or your synesthesia phenomenon? So working with the Hollywood film industry, I can give you an example how that ended up being what it was. I have a, or I did have, a public art piece that was down on Front Street, Spadina, so to speak, and went across Wellington. So three city blocks, so to speak, in an area which is now known, or a community, I should say, which is now known as The Well.
 
 So before The Well was even built, I was contacted because the developers that were working on that particular project wanted to use my work in a public art display. So we're looking at about 400, 300, 400 panels, eight by eight, that surrounded a large piece of, a fairly large piece of geography. And they were up before the building was even built, right? So it was actually technically a hoarding wall, but it was a hoarding wall that was recognized as an exhibit.
 
 It was called Kaleidoscopic. So it was recognized as an exhibit. It already had been documented by a lot of people.
 
 It had a theme kind of that ran through it, and it was well thought out. And I worked with project coordinators to have this, you know, end up being executed. And unbeknownst to me, they were filming a movie called The Man from Toronto, in Toronto.
 
 And they were looking at Toronto-centric landmarks, so that they were kind of proving in the film that they're not filming it in, you know, New York, or they're not filming it in a different city. They were actually there. So The Man from Toronto, they wanted to make sure it was very Toronto-esque.
 
 So I think they filmed the dome. I think they filmed the CN Tower and other places. And they decided to use my piece, Kaleidoscopic, as a backdrop.
 
 And they filmed about a minute of footage and dialogue, which is actually quite a, you know, large little piece of time there. You know, large, large and little. I'm contradicting myself.
 
 A big piece of film footage. And I received a letter or an email. No, it was an email.
 
 It was an email from Sony Pictures and Columbia Films. I believe that's what it is. And they said, okay, we're filming in front of your piece.
 
 We understand that because your piece contains images of your work and the reproductions of your work, because of intellectual property rights, you technically own the piece. We have to ask permission from you to sign off that we can use it. Or else they could be in trouble, I suppose, right? So I said, absolutely, no problem.
 
 So we settled on the amount of money that was going to end up being exchanged, that they were going to pay me for it. And that didn't matter. It wasn't the money in the end.
 
 It was the credit in the film. I wanted a credit in the film. And after a long, long period of time, because there's a lot of legal things that go on, and it's not even had anything to do with me.
 
 The film itself was put on hold. There was COVID. There was other things.
 
 And they did get back to me and they agreed to the conditions. And they agreed to the credit. And that's how that happened.
 
 And, you know, it tends to be that way. When you're an artist and you're working every day and you have things that are out in the public, you can land up with some pretty interesting opportunities, right? So it was a very good process. They were great to work with.
 
 And it was really painless, you know, because the work had already been done. It was already up. Yeah, just get residuals.
 
 Exactly. That's what ended up happening. And to me, it was ‑‑ I'm actually flattered.
 
 And as I said, I have a lot of gratitude. That was very kind of them to, for whatever reason, they decided to film there. And once again, it's not about propelling my own ego out there.
 
 It's just lovely to have something that was created and it was created for a different reason to be perceived in a different way. And that's what art is all about. It's a very interesting thing.
 
 And it's very much about the point of view and the viewpoint that it's being perceived from. And this is the interesting life that I have. And as I said, I'm gracious, believe me.
 
 Does your creativity consider a wider subject matter, one that is geopolitical or sociopolitical? Does your work have an agenda beyond your synesthesia, perceptions? How has being a colorist enhanced your practice in ways you didn't expect? So I've always been very, very consistent with my particular aesthetic and my discipline. And it's always been that way, it seems. Ever since I was in high school, I was gravitating towards something.
 
 And I always kind of felt that it was inside of me, just for me, my purpose of making art and being an artist, that what works for me, and it's not a right or wrong answer, it's just what works or doesn't work for the individual artist, would be to rise above the things that we see in the world. We're all well-versed in what's going on politically. We all have our own opinions, and we ought to have them.
 
 And that's wonderful. But see, I'd rather be somewhere in the ethereal world, or I'd rather be where the mechanisms of the soul lie, so to speak, the higher self, the unseen reality. Because what we see in the world, at times, can be pretty horrifying.
 
 And making art, to me, there are times when I am creating things that are certainly in line with less positivity, possibly. But for some reason, there's always this underlying reality that there is a positive plurality at play. And that it far surpasses or somewhat surpasses the realm that we are dealing with.
 
 Now, there are a lot of people that will make social statements, social realism, political art, et cetera. But a lot of that you can view on the news. A lot of that you pick up a newspaper.
 
 I always thought that the strongest statement you could make or you could see or witness is that front page of a newspaper where it's in stark print. And in a sense, it does come straight out of Neo-Dadaist pop art, the whole idea of collage and the whole idea of that. So if I can be completely honest with you, that in itself is very provoking and evoking at the same time when you look at something like that, when you're witnessing things that are disturbing, so to speak.
 
 Because normally when you're looking at political art, it's not positive. It's not positive. It's a statement being made.
 
 And in politics and in debate and in the world that we live in, most of it is coming from the negative side of things. Although freedom and speech and democracy, these are all wonderful and great things. But I just try to sort of surpass it.
 
 And it's an exercise of meditation. It's an exercise for me where I go to a different place at a different dimension where I've gathered information that really has little to do with what's going on on the surface, the ever-changing surface that we live upon. There's another thing I'd like to say too, that all of these things are human-made.
 
 Politics is human-made. Trees don't have politics. There's no politics in the forest behind my house.
 
 I think there's a wonderful choreographed play happening, so to speak, and it happens instinctively. I'd rather be there. I'd rather be there.
 
 That's far more interesting to me. And it's a lot more holistic. But it even has its horror stories too, doesn't it? Nature is not always pleasant.
 
 But I can buy that because it comes from a place of, as I said, instincts. It's not malice. And I kind of like to rise above it.
 
 I like to be in the ethereal world for part of my process. And have two feet planted on the ground at the same time. So long story short, I know it's a long story, but I think every artist has their own narrative they want to impose or not to impose.
 
 And whatever process they have is personal to the artist. And just for me, I've always wanted to be kind of in a different place and not necessarily in the position of the material world all the time. That's not where I like to kind of live.
 
 I kind of live in the deep end. So when you're in the deep end, sometimes you're in a place that not everybody can get to. So, yeah, that would be it, to be honest with you.
 
 But, hey, freedom for whomever wants to do whatever they want to do creatively. And I celebrate that. What are your thoughts on originality and authenticity? Because your work is steeped in synesthesia, has your work maintained originality? Has authenticity been a focus of your practice? Or has your unique approach guaranteed your work is original? Well, the way I see it, everybody has a fingerprint and a thumbprint.
 
 Fingerprints and thumbprints that are unique to them. And there's no person in the world that is exactly like somebody else. We can have similarities.
 
 And then some of us are quite different. And I just mean this inside, people that we are, individuals, our way of thinking, our frame of reference. So there is something to be said about honesty.
 
 Now, you can see it. You can see an honest piece of art and you can see a dishonest piece of art. Someone can be a wonderful draftsperson.
 
 They can render like no tomorrow. But if they don't have any heart, if there's nothing there, if there isn't some substance, then it is just that. It's a mere rendering.
 
 It doesn't go beyond that. So for me, once again, and I said this before, it doesn't matter what people do. It doesn't matter what people create or make.
 
 I will look at a piece of art and say, that's really honest. That really is that person. You can see that person in that work.
 
 Now, when it comes to what I do, I do what I have to do. It's not a matter of really wanting to do it, as opposed to a degree it is, but it's something I have to do. We have to eat.
 
 We have to breathe. We have to drink water and we want to hope that that water is safe and clean. This is how we live.
 
 For me, it's like another extremity. So I suppose originality, I'm just making what's natural to me. I'm not overthinking it.
 
 Sometimes I'm analyzing it to the nth degree. But when it's happening, it's just a flow. It's a natural flow that comes from a place that I'm not quite sure of.
 
 I'm sure of where it is, but I don't know its complete locale, because I'm here. I'm here on the surface of terra firma. So I'm here.
 
 But I know it comes from a source, and that's where it comes from. So I would have to imagine I'm just coming here with honesty, because I'm pouring out what needs to be done. For no other person, put it this way, I've never made a painting for anybody in my life.
 
 I've just made it for the sake of making it. Did I make it for myself? Well, yes, I guess I have. The process, yeah, which is just as important as the finished result.
 
 It's the process that I have danced with and had a romantic relationship with and realized that that message has come to me to complete it and to walk away and leave it. And in the end, that to me would be originality, an imprint of who I am. And scrutiny is wonderful, and criticism and critical thinking is wonderful.
 
 As it goes out there, whatever anybody thinks about it, I think we live in a great place where we can have any opinion we want. And if you hate it, great. If you like it, great.
 
 If you love it, fantastic. It doesn't matter. I'm neutral.
 
 It doesn't matter. I'm not making it to create a reaction. It's just something that had to happen.
 
 It had to happen. It was meant to be. How has being a teacher brought about positive change to your practice? Have you seen any direct influences from your students on your creativity, or has it mostly been your creative practice that has impacted them? Have you seen a correlation from your skills being passed on, or has it been mostly an organic process? Have you learned anything that surprised you while teaching? Teaching can be pretty amazing, and I suppose I have a technique, the way I go about teaching.
 
 It's multifaceted. It's obviously organized somewhat, and then there's a lot of room for sort of improvisation, or what may end up happening. I'm obviously influencing students because I'm putting things together for them to do, called projects or assignments.
 
 I'm offering them an opportunity to learn history, to learn about what happened before today, and to find out about individuals that may correlate or will correlate in with what we're teaching, that particular lesson, that particular project. With that, I've had an opportunity to really look at their process, too, because everyone, as I said, is different, and everyone's going to have their own imprint. It's going to be unique to them, and that's fascinating to me, to say that that individual, if I look at their work, I'm going to know their work out of a crowd.
 
 I can see it just roaring through because it just speaks so obviously. To be present, to watch an individual, teach an individual, and guide an individual, try to harness that creativity and move them in whatever direction they're looking at, and that can be a collective thing as well, but anecdotally, I'm always making mental notes or actual notes on the process of the students and what direction they're going in and whatever else. I can just say that I've had many students contact me years later, and they've pulled quotes out that I've said.
 
 If I've been talking about the law of attraction and how the law of attraction finally eclectic, it changed the way they thought about things, and they're 32 years old now, and they're not even making art. They're doing something else, but that tool, they found that tool that they could use, so it's exciting. Do the students influence me? I wouldn't say they influence me so much from my practice, but it's a wonderful way to get out of the studio and have those conversations and have the dialogue, and they would influence me from an intellectual standpoint, from a conceptual standpoint.
 
 I'm still going to go back to my studio and do what I do. I'm still going to be, as I say, outpouring, imprint my own thing, and you switch it off because when I'm here, I'm not kind of thinking about there, and when I'm there, in all honesty, it's not all about me. I can bring my own history into it on, oh, yeah, yeah, but you've got to use this or try that when it comes to materials or absolutely, you know, I've been there.
 
 I've seen this. I witnessed that piece of art in that museum or whatever it might be, but it's a very holistic, healthy scenario, teaching. It really is, and it does.
 
 I said they didn't influence me in my practice. Let me correct myself. They influenced me energetically, so when I come back to my practice, I feel a sense of being refreshed because I've been around some really incredible minds, some very creative people, people that are unique, people that have had guts, you know, that are daring and challenge things and not afraid to experiment, and they listen to what I'm, you know, they kind of put sort of these directions in the air.
 
 You know, there's no such thing as failure because there isn't any failure, and, you know, there's no right or wrong. When you're saying that to a student, they get baffled at first. What do you mean there's no right or wrong? No, in art, there's no right or wrong.
 
 It's just what you perceive, and what you perceive is not going to be at all like somebody else perceives it, so how could there be any absolute? There's no absolutes in this dimension. Isn't it wonderful? You know, isn't it absolutely wonderful? So if anything, what I can do, really all I can do is sort of bring a completely different way of seeing things to them as a teacher within the studio, within the classroom, within a remote lecture, and just have them, you know, maybe perceive it from a different angle and see things, oh, I never looked at it that way. I never saw it that way, and it would be absolutely incorrect if I wasn't walking away with the same experience of having opportunities of seeing things differently because everyone's different, and if you sort of immerse yourself in that environment and there is great discussion and critical thinking and critique and conversation and discourse, you're going to come out thinking differently too, and I learn just as much from them as they are hopefully learning from me.
 
 So it's a wonderful thing, and, you know, in the end, we're discussing art, and it's just that that itself is beautiful. What a way to spend the day, you know? It's a beautiful thing. Yeah, yeah, exactly.
 
 All right, thank you so much, Kirk. That's the end of our interview. Yeah, I talked a lot.
 
 You're welcome. That's all right, yeah. Yeah, so yeah, that's the end of the interview, and yeah, it was a great interview.
 
 We can touch base in the future and see where your creativity has brought you But, you know, yeah, I don't see the world any other way. What you just heard in the last, you know, hour and change or whatever it is, that's basically how it is with me. I don't, yeah, oddly enough, there's, I guess I use words like synergy and whatever else, but it is a holistic thing in the end and that itself is wonderful, you know? So, yeah, thank you very much.
 
 It was a beautiful opportunity to discuss my work, and thank you so much for, you know, spending some time with me today. Yeah, it was fun. It's always fun to talk about art, right? That's right.
 
 That's right. So have a great day. All right, thanks so much, Kirk.
 
 Okay, take care. You too. Bye.
 
 Bye, Nina. Bye. Join me next time as I go down another rabbit hole with another creative professional on their insights, their inspirations, and their ingenuity.