I’m sitting in my studio/office here in Beijing with a space heater at my feet, which are already covered in fluffy slippers because the temperature is below zero and winter is definitely here. Christmas is just around the corner and another year will then unfold before us like white-canvas potential. All we have to do is pick up the brushes. Mix the colours. Position the palette.

Start A New Painting.

Since turning 50 in July, I’ve really started to look at life differently.

My dad passed away on May 31st, 2024. I was able to fly home to Canada to say goodbye to him, which was a gift. The power of holding a loved one’s hands in their final moments is palpable. I was able to tell him how much I love him, that I’ll be okay, that it’s okay to leave us, that he did a good job raising us, that his love will be with me forever.

I’m not sure I’m really able to say that I’ve processed this loss yet. I haven’t, really. As soon as he left us, I simply got to work. I suspended most of my album production work to help my mom sort things out, financially and practically. I rolled up my sleeves.

My dad was an artist in his purest form, despite working in education for most of his career. He has left behind many beautiful pieces of artwork both on canvases and with wood and sculpture. I see him in my China home, too, where I have been able to bring over some of his work. He used to loudly praise my bravery for leading with my art through life, professionally. He claimed to have never had the courage to do this for himself. His “art-making happened after working hours,” he said. But, I saw in his eyes an artistic spark that never wavered. His was outputting creative pieces right up until his final years and this legacy will forever inspire me to continue to create — no matter what.

No matter when, make art.

My dad was also a big car lover and had a sizable vehicle collection (17!). When he left us, someone had to sort things out, sell them, store them, organize their being towed to the scrap yard, etc. From the end of May until the end of August, this task consumed me, especially throughout the 5 weeks I spent in Canada for the summer.

I needed to help my mom.

My kids could barely find me all summer. I was either crawling underneath a chassis to get a better photo for a listing, or at the Service Ontario desk (like the DMV) to try to reprint or prove ownership of vehicles whose paperwork couldn’t be located, or I was negotiating with tow trucks or garage owners or pulling my hair out about some detail or another. The kids’ languished in the summer sun and played with their grandmother’s new puppy. They watched me from a distance.

The whole experience gave me a few reinforced rules to (continue to) live by as I wander into the dawn of the second half of my life:

1.     Endeavour to get rid of your shit *before* you exit — or at least, try to do so

2.     The people you love go first, always, and passions can wait

3.     About grief: it’s as unpredictable as love

3.     Health is all there is. Take care of ourselves. We MUST.

4.     We have time. In fact, time is all we have. It’ll get done!

So, if the middle of one’s life is indeed like the beginning of a whole new painting, I say it’s time we start mixing colours, pick up those brushes, and get to work. Because, really, there will be a sunset. There will be a day when our loved ones are once again holding our hands but this time it’ll be them saying goodbye to us.

Until then, let the colours swirl.

-es