It was April 15th, 2009. Joy and I had just spent a couple of days in Whistler staying at a beautiful log house with about 20 other people to celebrate a friend’s birthday. It was time to go home, back to Gibsons. It’s only a forty-five minute drive back to the ferry so we had time to spare. The day was crystal clear and refreshing with the temperature just at freezing. One of the places we wanted to see was the area where the upcoming 2010 Olympics would host their cross-country ski event. A few of our friends even had their skis with them and would spend a few hours trying out the trails. Joy and I wandered the facilities and enjoyed a lunch on the deck of the lodge with our friends. On the way down the hill we stopped at the ski jump. While nobody was actually jumping, just seeing the size and location of the structure allowed one to conjure images of free flying skiers dropping into huge crowds at the bottom of the hill. Though a half a year away, the 2010 Olympics and all the energy that comes with it could be felt in a very visceral way.
I was anxiously looking for an image to paint but none were coming to me. I knew it was here, I could feel it, but I couldn’t see it. I wanted something that said “Whistler”. Whistler was all around me but the elusive image just wouldn’t show itself. Somehow though I knew that my image had to include that hallmark of Whistler. It had to include that peak, the Matterhorn of BC, it had to include Black Tusk Mountain.
As we drove down the mountain leaving behind the ski jump and cross-country venues, my attention was on the road ahead. It was Joy who spotted it. “Stop the car Ed, I think there’s a painting there.” Ever mindful of Joy’s instruction and her eye for my type of image, I pulled over and walked back to the small bridge we’d just crossed. There it was, the painting that I’d known was there all along. With the glaring white snows laying like a down blanket to the creek’s edge and the dark trees creating a natural frame, Black Tusk loomed in the distance. That would be my painting. The ever-present voice that had been calling me was silent. This was it. I wouldn’t have found the image without Joy though; I’d have driven right past it.
When the 2010 Olympics are but a distant memory, virtually everyone who was there or watched it on television will have seen Black Tusk Mountain. That unique mountain peak will be one of those touchstone memories that’ll last a lifetime. For me, this painting is my touchstone memory of Whistler. It’ll forever remind me, not so much of the Olympics, but of the wonderful weekend I spent with Joy and friends in the winter wonderland called Whistler.
