The Northwest Territories Travels | Part 1 of 3 | Kaija Savinainen
What is it about northern Canada, specifically the Yellowknife region that is so fascinating, so appealing to an artist’s sensibility? Why does she whisper softly to my soul, calling, urging me to travel. Her mysteries chase me, this I know. They tease me. “Come back, return to us. Experience, fill your artist’s heart with new visions.” After all, this is a sub-Arctic region not a normal summer fun or winter destination. It can be brutally cold; -40 C is common. The winters are long, darkness and cold prevail for most of December, and January. During warmer times there are multitudes of biting bugs, blackflies so thick they cover the side of your car. “Bulldogs” aka horseflies are large enough to carry away a bison.
Yet, I have heeded that call to go north for the last 12 years. I admit I am not a fan of airplanes, crowds or big cities. I steel myself for the travel part knowing what awaits me. I am greeted at the airport by grandchildren, my daughter and often their canine companion, Sammi. He is a giant Samoyed who can pass for a small polar bear. He is as wide as he is long with a massive thick white fur coat giving him that ginormous appearance. He is totally adapted to northern living. Sammi is my constant companion when out roaming and sketching.
Here is part I of my most recent trip to Yellowknife and Peninsula Lake. I loved every minute of it, bugs included.
Summer adventures in the north – I travelled north to Yellowknife (NWT) this past summer spending time with my two grandsons at their cabin on Peninsula Lake. There we paddled, hiked, explored, sketched, played, read and told stories, assembled numerous puzzles to the delight of the youngest grandson. For Eerik, each morning would begin with a visit to the dress up chest. There he would carefully, thoughtfully assemble an outfit complete with sequined cape, mask, gloves, fairy wings and brightly coloured leggings. On one occasion he insisted, I too put on a set of fairy wings and add a touch of makeup. “No mummi, I do it, hold still” he said firmly as he applied some eye shadow and “sticklip” to my face. According to Eerik this is what lipstick is called - a stick shaped colouring apparatus applied to the lips, thus “sticklip”. I must admit I prefer Eerik’s descriptive name for the object. I shared stories with the boys of their mom’s early years. They were so curious asking many pointed questions. “What was she like as a kid, did she listen, did she ever say “no” to you” they asked mischievously. They hung on each word as I answered. Wow, she had been a kid after all a long time ago!
I went on daily walks exploring the landscape accompanied by my personal escort Sammi. He takes his security detail seriously. If you linger too long in one spot Sammi returns, encouraging you to walk on. “You must keep moving human as there are many dangers out here, especially brought on by feuding squirrels”. Sammi was right, I did indeed need to keep walking but for a different reason. The blackflies were out. They make an appearance in August, September in the north. How could I have forgotten that? They swarm you the moment you stop moving, in your mouth, and face they come. Awful things they are. The only positive thing I know about those pesky flies is that they do pollinate blueberries, lingonberries and cloudberries, that are deliciously prevalent across the sub-Arctic north.
Hiking along one of the rocky ridges. One of those pesky blackflies photo bombed one of my pictures. Sammi always on duty watching the land for intruders.
The beautiful, rugged landscape captivated my attention as we flew over the vast northern lands from Ottawa to “YK”. At the cabin it was the quietness of the place I found somewhat startling. It was so very quiet, and serene. I could hear the wind moving softly through the sweet-smelling northern forest. In the distance a loon, an eagle, or Penny, the raven, could be heard calling. An occasional bush plane carrying passengers to remote destinations was heard overhead. On a rare day if the wind blew in a certain direction a vehicle could be heard faintly. The cabin is located close to the end of the Ingraham Trail. It felt so good to shed civilization, leaving behind the constant buzz, the humdrum and never-ending noise of humanity in the South. The air quality this summer was much improved, fresh and clear. An occasional bad air quality day would roll by with the thick smell of smoke from the wildfires of Alberta, south of Great Slave Lake lingering, reminding us of last year’s terrible destruction and total evacuation of Yellowknife.
Almost nightly the northern lights or as I call them in Finnish Revontulet (Foxfires) danced high above the cabin and the lake. The lights appear initially softly, shyly, shimmering, moving rhythmically across the night sky. Then in the next breath colours brighten, dancing rivers of swirling, pulsating pale green, yellow lights fill the celestial heavens. One night we walked down to the lake and stood in absolute awe observing this heavenly performance. I stood spellbound breathing in the magic of the night. Raw, resplendent, ancient voices whispering across distant times. For a moment I felt connected to the universe, to a cosmos we all come from and return to.
Full Moon with Revontulet, oil on canvas 36x40”
Here is the accompanying artist statement for my work at an outdoor held this past summer.
“In the north the Aurora Borealis (Foxfires) are spectacular, mysterious, primordial. Oh, how they dance, the heavens alight, shimmering with bands of color against the darkened night sky. I stood spell bound, drawn into their mystery, into this ancient, splendorous spectacle. The lands lay silent as the foxfires danced under the bright, full moon. You need to be there, to be a part of the cosmos if only for an instant. Words can not describe the vision they present. Painting has always been a part of who I am. Never has there been a time when I have not drawn, painted or observed the natural landscape.” Kaija Savinainen