Behold: Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, the adorably tiny airfield tucked on Toronto Island like a boutique coffee shop in a corporate office park. This spring, however, 2020 decided to crash the party—and by crash, I mean everything literally stopped. No boats. No airplanes. No noise. Just the lake doing its best impression of a yoga retreat while the world had a collective panic attack. Spoiler alert: it was eerily peaceful.

It feels so unusual to see this normally busy lake so quiet and empty. As I work on these three paintings – morning, late morning/noon, and afternoon – a few people pause at a little distance, gently saying hello and offering kind words of support to us as artists. Their warmth has touched me, and I know I will carry the memory of this day with me for a long time.

A watercolour painting I did at noon by Ontario Lake (which, let’s be honest, was probably the most exciting thing happening in Toronto that day).

Afternoon vibes: the lake is serving calm waves with a side of tired, melancholic yellow sun—nature’s way of saying, “Yeah, I’m exhausted too. Let’s just rest.” By evening, Ontario Lake had achieved what none of us could: the zen state of not caring about literally anything.

Leonardo da Vinci, history’s ultimate Renaissance overachiever, was obsessed with water. He called it “vetturale di natura”—”the vehicle of nature.” Translation: the man understood that water is basically nature’s delivery service, and honestly? He wasn’t wrong. Water shows up, does all the work, and everyone else takes the credit.

Bon voyage! Until our next adventure (hopefully with fewer apocalyptic vibes). Stay healthy and keep painting!

All paintings are mine. Like, I actually made them with my own two hands. No stealing, copycats! Seriously though, I worked hard on these—respect the artist hustle.

My artist toolkit of choice: Van Gogh and Cotman watercolours (for when you want your paintings to have that authentic starry-night-versus-budget-friendly chaos), plus a Canson Mix Media album at 28×35 cm (11×14 in.)—the Goldilocks size of art paper.