Span

Sean Caulfield is an Edmonton artist whose work explores the impact of technology on the environment and our bodies. He is interested in creating visual images that blur boundaries between the biological and the technological, the organic and the mechanical, and which challenge viewers to consider the implications of this merging. Caulfield is a Centennial Professor in the Department of Art and Design at the University of Alberta. He has exhibited his prints, drawings, and artist’s books extensively throughout Canada, the United States, Europe, and Japan.

Carolyn Campbell has exhibited her work throughout Canada, and has taught painting, drawing and design at the University of Alberta. Her work has been featured in numerous publications and she was a finalist in 2009 for the Kingston Prize National Portrait Competition. She works from a studio in downtown Edmonton.

The Canadian maple leaf is a powerful and positive symbol, unique in the world as a national emblem. Instead of abstract shapes, often stemming from outdated symbols of nobility, this country honours an everyday concrete object from lowly nature. In other words, our national symbol is also simply a leaf on a tree.

I was a third-grader when I first entered a psychiatrist’s office. The prelude to my visit was a skipping lesson I gave my brother, who was in first-grade at the time, one morning before school. Not skipping as in using a skipping rope, but the locomotive kind in which you lift your knee and hop forward. I wanted to share with him my recent discovery of the joy and giddiness that comes from literally bounding through space. Perhaps I should have realized that skipping is an outdoor activity.

One typical Monday morning in September, Londoners narrowly avoided collision with each other in their rush-hour dance through Paddington Station. Navigating the crowd, I slipped on the slick marble floor as I headed for my train to Somerset. A drop of water splashed against my face and I looked up. It was raining inside the station. These were not the tear-shaped raindrops teachers taught us to draw as children but flat cushions of water that pooled on the platform.

The DHC-2 Beaver bush plane is often credited with opening up the Canadian North. It was manufactured by de Havilland Canada in Downsview, Ontario, between 1947 and 1967, yet it remains a common sight throughout the country due to its rare abilities. It’s easily recognized by its very loud “Wasp Jr” engine.