The wild landscape that the Group of Seven painted was itself the product of the search for Canadian identity as much as it was the footprint of humanity. Forever altered by industry; the land itself was sculpted to allow for easier passage of logs, trains and ultimately, adventurers and conservators alike. The construction of roads and railways gave Canadians a way through their landscape that they had not witnessed before. At the same time, all this technology mediated the landscape it served.

I wanted to find a Canadian material to use in my paintings that would address this mediated landscape in a way that meant something to me. Old, broken hockey gear does this and adds to the work a layer of nostalgia. This material also satisfied the environmentalist in my head - all this plastic and metal wasn’t being unceremoniously dumped back into landfill – it was being used instead to glorify the landscape we Canadians hold so dear.

Everyone in Canada has an opinion about hockey - from the intentionally ignorant, “I don’t follow it,” to the hockey zealot that can recount all the stats and scores. Learning how to listen to people as they react to my work has often engaged a discussion around Canadian identity and hockey. Getting Canadians to engage in a discussion about their identity is not as easy as it seems, the closer you get to the heart of the thing, the more complexities appear.

The use of staples and drywall screws hold together jerseys, socks, helmets and shin pads and allow me to speak about a national mosaic made up of different bits. From a distance, these paintings seem homage to their roots and Canadian Landscape painting, up close they are as diverse a surface as we are a nation.