A Part of My Story: How Nature, Colour, and Memory Shape My Paintings

A look back at the early days that shaped my path and the inspiration that continues today.

I’ve always been drawn to the outdoors. From a young age, I found myself wandering through fields and forests, climbing trees, and paying attention to the little details—the texture of bark, the way light played across leaves, the slow movement of insects. Growing up in BC, Manitoba, and Ontario gave me a front-row seat to so many different landscapes, and each one left its mark on me in a unique way.

I still remember a family trip to BC when I was a kid. I was completely awestruck by the sheer size of the mountains. Even now, I can’t quite wrap my head around how massive they are. That trip stayed with me—the sense of standing beneath something so big, feeling the distance stretch out in front of me. It was humbling, and it sparked something in me.

Back home on the prairies in Manitoba, the landscape couldn’t have been more different. The flatness of the land was just as breathtaking as the mountains, in its own way. The prairie skies were always moving—clouds shifting and stretching, storm fronts rolling in and out, light and shadow playing across the fields. I would spend entire days outside, just watching how the sky changed. There was something about the constant movement overhead that felt both peaceful and exciting.

In Ontario, it was the changing colours of the trees in the fall that caught my eye. The reds, golds, and oranges felt like nature’s own brushstrokes, splashed across the landscape. The rocky outcrops, smoothed by glaciers long ago, added a sense of history to the land—silent reminders of the past. During the summer months, I’d climb trees and explore every inch of my surroundings. I’d get lost in the textures of the world around me—looking closely at a tree’s bark, the way the light hit a leaf, or how the wind carried clouds across the sky. I’ve always been drawn to those little things. They might seem insignificant to some, but they’ve always felt important to me.

Even though I sketched a lot growing up—little pencil drawings in school notebooks or quick studies in sketchbooks—I didn’t really start painting right away. It wasn’t until one Christmas when my parents gave me a paint set that I gave it a try. I remember working on a few flat canvases back then, but it didn’t really stick. Life moved on, and it wasn’t until my mid to late twenties that I felt that pull back to painting.

In my thirties, I made a decision. I carved out time to paint, even though it wasn’t always easy to find it. I aimed to paint four to six hours a day, seven days a week if I could, though life always borrowed a few days here and there. Painting became more than just a creative outlet—it became a way to process my thoughts, work through challenges, and focus. It gave me a space to slow down and concentrate on one thing at a time, especially in a world that’s constantly demanding our attention in a million different directions.

When I paint now, I pull from all those early experiences. The mountains in BC, the prairies in Manitoba, the rich colours of Ontario in the fall, the insects I used to watch crawl along tree trunks, the clouds moving across the sky—they’re all there, layered into the work. My style has evolved over the years, leaning into bold, vibrant colours and expressive brushwork. I’ve always been inspired by artists like Lawren Harris for his dramatic contrasts of light and shadow, and van Gogh for his fearless brushstrokes and deep connection to the natural world. But over time, I’ve found my own way of seeing and expressing things—my own voice as an artist.

For me, painting isn’t just about creating something nice to look at. It’s about making a space to reflect, to slow down, and to connect with the world around us. It’s about capturing those fleeting moments—how light shifts over a landscape, how colour fills a sky, or how a quiet place makes you feel. It’s about taking those moments that might otherwise pass by unnoticed and giving them a place on the canvas where they can be seen and felt.

Looking back, I can see how much those early days shaped me—not just as an artist, but as a person. They taught me to pay attention, to appreciate the small details, and to see beauty in the everyday. And looking forward, I know I’ll keep showing up in the studio, brush in hand, bringing those memories and experiences to life on canvas.

Every painting I create is a chance to share a little of that journey—a glimpse into the world that has inspired me for as long as I can remember. 🎨

• #293 – “Stars and Lanterns” Fine Art painting by Jeff Dillon

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