I recently took a trip with a friend all the way up to the end of road #138, on the northern coast of Québec. It’s 765 miles of driving along the Saint-Lawrence river, wide open spaces of woods, countless intrepid rivers, pristine air and mosquitoes.

The immensity of this wilderness takes you beyond words: silence stills your mind and space takes hold of your heart. This was a perfect place to gain some perspective, and I came back with a decision: do less and do it better.

One of the things I want to do better is my art. This means I must retreat to the studio for now, and so won’t be writing as regularly. This blog will keep you informed of upcoming events, such as a group show I am proud to take part in this fall, at Galerie des Beaux-Arts des Amériques. You can also find me on Instagram.

This has been an enriching and exciting experience, and I hope it brought you joy along the way.
Stay tuned for upcoming events.

“La Romaine River, Minganie”, 2019, photo Louise Jalbert
“On the rocks at Grande Bergeronnes, Manicouagan”, photo Guilda Dionne 2019

This is the last drawing of peonies, done while they bloomed in such magnificence as to fall under their own weight. Don’t you find there is such seduction in the way these voluptuous creatures offer themselves in total abandon?

Abandon and sensuality are beckoning us now. This is the time to breathe in the sun, absorb the yellowed sky and warm air, to rest and share good times with loved ones. Have a wonderful time. I will be back with new inspiration in mid- August.

Louise Jalbert, “Falling Peonies “, 2019, Ink on paper, 8.5 x 11 inches

Every spring, the apple trees in front of my home bloom in lavish pink. During two weeks, the fragrance and color of the flowers attracts honeybees that come buzzing into them, carrying pollen to fertilize the flowers. Once fertilized, the flower ovaries become fruits.
Then the flowers fall to the ground, spreading a regal carpet of soft petals, and it feels as if some lavish wedding has been going on. And it has.

At this time of the year, after the long months of winter, nature is surging forth in a great effort, as sudden and dramatic as birth itself. There is so much to see, it is hard to keep up. And having a garden, there is also much to do.

I used to stress out, torn between work in the studio and the garden. As if one would take me from the other: rather, one feeds the other. Hands in dirt or in paint, nipping a branch or mixing a color, it is the same the creative process.

Nowadays, the garden is calling for my attention and gratefully, I run to it. Fresh air, sun, foliage dancing in the wind, birdsongs : this is pure happiness after too much time in the stillness of the studio. Painting has been slow lately, and I need time to work at it patiently.

So I follow life’s abundance where it happens and trust another germination is going on, that will bloom in it’s own time.

Louise Jalbert, “Appletree flowers”, and ” In the Garden” 2019, Photography.

I look at trees a lot. Those that live near my home, particularly close to a window, become familiar very dear with time. They seem unchanging but they do change a little bit every day, just like us.

For almost ten years, I gazed at this linden tree outside my studio window. In summer, his flowers would perfume the garden and in winter, his large branches laden with snow were majestic.

Here it is in a sketch, done one April day at the very beginning of spring.

Louise Jalbert, Linden Tree in Early Spring, gouache on paper, 2004, 12 x 8.5 inches