It has sort of become an inside joke between my brother and I that I owe him a lot of birthday gifts. He’s pretty considerate and thinks a lot about the gifts he gives to people, and I do not. I have the best intentions but I’m a shitty person so I only do whatever is within my means. Sometimes that means nothing, last year it was a painting (given three months after his birthday) and this year its…shaping up to be a blog post. That may officially be a downgrade, but I’ll leave that up to Brother to decide.

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Every year for about twelve years, my mom and maternal grandma (“Yaya”) would pack up our Aerostar van and drive us kids to Myrtle Beach for two weeks, to celebrate both of our birthdays, which were five days apart. It was a twenty-hour trip of tupperware totes filled with crossword puzzles and colouring supplies, Sing-A-Long-Kids songs and, at least one time I screamed for 4 hours of the trip before my mom pulled over to discover a crayon stuck in my diaper (it was blue, and obviously melted). We loved the trip there almost as much as we loved the days we spent in the Cadillac Court, a budget hotel located on the south side of the beach overlooking the ocean. We always rented a suite and it was outfitted with an orange pull out couch with yellow and black striped cushions, yellow cupboards and orange carpeting, but it was big with plenty of beds and a balcony that we used to watch the dolphins swim by at five am.

We looked like this.

We loved these trips. We were pulled out of school for ten days. Half way there we’d begin sticking our arms out the van-windows to feel the “beach air”, our way of assessing how close to the beach we were. Driving into the beach core was a slew of strip-malls, palm trees and beach shops, something we romanticized to no end. I don’t know what it was about the piles of dead starfish, baby sharks in formaldehyde filled jars, tacky shell mobiles, neon RayBan knockoffs and smelly hermit crabs under fluorescent lighting, but those things had long become a nostalgic treat for me by age 8. The second we stepped foot out into that place, we felt instantly happy. Once we pulled into the parking lot of the Cadillac Court, the adults would get out to register at the front desk, giving Adam and I a chance to run down to the beach. This was more than a tradition, it just happened. A combination of being cooped up in the van for days, and the fact that this was literally our favourite place on earth sent us into an ecstatic frenzy. We’d race down the familiar boardwalk, unchanged in the twelve months it’d been since we’d last seen it, past Bobsy’s bar, past the gazebo, past Eli the janitor who seemed to always be mopping the pool deck, past the fleeing anoles on the white sanded rot, finally onto the beach, dodging washed up jellies, into the ocean to our knees (we were afraid of sharks) screaming in delight. The first day of every trip was always the best, but we’d always pay for it later that evening when we realized we were sunburnt to shit. (THANKS ALOT, MOM!)

I can’t remember any one trip in full, but at some point I remember sitting on the bench next to the beach with Yaya, while she explained she had surgery a few months before to make her better when she was sick. I don’t remember anyone ever telling me she was sick until that day, even though I knew she was, and the only reason she was telling me then was because I’d asked her about the scar on her neck. She was totally nonchalant talking about her cancer and I never got the impression it would actually take her away from me, she wasn’t afraid at all, and people who were dying were afraid. Now that I’m older I realize she was just someone who wasn’t afraid, not like me. My brother appeared after a few moments and sat behind Yaya on the bench. Our mom eventually joined us and took our photo, all of us in red. When I look at that picture now, I think of all those trips at once. I’m sure the lizard-covered bench is still standing, despite not having seen it in ten years. I have visited the Cadillac since, after dropping Adam off at UF when he was in his second year and I was sixteen. I sat on the bench, void of my Yaya and of my brother, both of whom I was missing, and thought about how much had changed. Now that I’m an adult, it feels funny to say aloud all these warm feelings about such a touristy Disney Land like Myrtle Beach, kind of like learning that the “beach smell” we’d come to love was actually the smoke of Marlboro Reds.

There’s a very specific type of pain that I feel when I think about our Yaya, one that hasn’t waned remotely over the years even though I was merely 12 when she died. I don’t know if it’s because I was so young (but not SO young), because I felt it was sudden, or because I turned down the opportunity to say goodbye, but I do know that I am lucky to have someone in my life whom I know feels that same pain of specific loss, one that hasn’t waned, and while that is merely one example, it comforts me to know my brother will always make me feel understood in a way even if no one else does. I am grateful for when I feel like thinking of her, I can share that with him.

Years later when we were in Montreal for Adam’s third and final Olympic (swimming) trials, I played him a song. It was “Ode To LA” by The Raveonettes. Ronnie Spector of The Ronettes is featured on the track, in all her smokey-voice’d glory, and once her part came on Adam looked up at me with semi-glossed eyes and he didn’t have to say anything; I knew he was thinking it too.

While the Myrtle Beach chapter is certainly closed, we still take trips. After the Olympics, he and I went off to Thailand for five days of nonsense before jetting back to North America to start our real lives: him to move to NYC, me off to school. On the day we were supposed to head home, both our credit cards maxed, we were stuck on standby at the Koh Samui airport for ten straight hours. The entire time he kept a smile on his face to the point that it annoyed me, reassuring me that we’d get on “the next one”. We finally got on “the last one”, thoroughly exhausted, and with zero help from me. I remember thinking it was hilarious that he could be in a good mood, waiting ten hours to get on a plane that was built for passengers almost half his size (on the way there he had to move to the emergency exit, his legs wouldn’t fit in the seat). I don’t know if I ever told him this, but I was so, so grateful to have him there that day. I consider myself a great traveler, until it’s time to go home and my plane is delayed indefinitely. Then, I’m an impenetrable nightmare in need of a hand to hold.

Today, he’s 31. Former Olympian, current husband + swim coach, film blogger, father of cannonball Bulldog Swampy, impressive juggler and consumer of fine bourbon & gin.

Brother, Happy Birthday. I love you, thanks for always being my best friend.

* * *
Read Adam’s blog
Follow Adam on twitter
* * *

Here’s a selection of my favourites:

Chuck*

Duke

Holly

Izzy

Mikey

Puddy

Sue

Willow

Coco*

(*Totally creeped Dooce and stole some images to paint her dogs. I couldn’t resist. Those tongues!).

And of course, the originals:

Zoe

Goose

Lily

Gert

One-Eyed Biggie

Without question, the best part in all this is simply how darn happy everyone was upon receiving them. I may or may not have shed a few tears upon listening to some lovely feedback. Thank you so much to everyone who ordered.  And thank you for your support in TAS South. I am sure they will be very happy to receive our donation. I’m always doing something and you all seem to embrace my projects with open arms, and there’s no way I could continue to do this without your various forms of support. It’s totally crazy. Thank you thank you thank you.

This happens a lot. I will get there eventually, though. May has always been an exciting month for me, so I’m looking forward to that. I’m also turning 27, and I have no idea why but, I kinda like it.

Here’s something I’ve been working on since the end of my last show. Keeping up with the size of things, this one will be just under 5′ x 5′ when its all stretched and done. I am still not close to finishing this just yet, but I feel like I’ve reached a standstill for the time being. Perhaps its time to start something new and give this one a breather.

According to my brother, this looks like “information being directly downloaded into an eyeball”. 

My brother and I, circa 1988.

I went to Trenton for Easter weekend and spent it with Adam’s parents, brother, and at one point, four dogs including three labs (of every colour). This is Hudson, Adam’s brother’s dog, sleeping on Gert’s travel bed.

Jens suggest I try the last of his 21 year Lagavlulin Rum Cask in an effort restore my taste in Scotch after I announced I was “having a hard time” with it lately. It worked. Good thing, because it was a $300 bottle. Jens is very generous.

Queen Gert.

Guill a top her perch before we left for the weekend.

Oh yeah, I got Vine. It’s lonely over there.

I made a bunch of smoothies; some were pretty good but this one in particular tasted awful, surprisingly. Too much grapefruit juice.

I’m adding artwork to some small metal pill boxes (more on that later), and this is the result of spray-varnishing them on the porch.

Oh yeah, and I actually made it to the studio. It felt pretty good to get back in there and start a new piece.

Not pictured: The single most amazing thing my work has ever done for me, which can’t be resorted to a measly instagram post. It involves the power of the internet, an encouraging admiration, a really supportive set of parents, and the amazing form of communication that is art, I guess, really. But more on that later.

That aside, things continue to be low-key. I sold a painting out of Le Papillon restaurant, so that was very, very encouraging. I’ll be posting something on that shortly. I am heading back there tomorrow to fill the empty space. I am really so lucky to be able to hang my work with them. I was planning on adding my new collection once it was freed up at House of Moments, but the show there has since been extended, which is pretty exciting! So moving forward I may just add work that I make from now on.

Happy Sunday! Hope your Mondays aren’t so terrible.

Here’s my week in instagram photos:

From top to bottom:

1. Trying out new ideas, animal paintings on totebags?!
2. The giraffe version of that idea
3. New stamp
4. …Thus new tags
5. What salt can do to watercolour
6. A portrait of CHUCK!
7. My sweet Gert
8. New jewels

And to answer your question, no, I didn’t leave the house once. My god my life is boring.

Follow me on Instagram & Twitter: @nervrom

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*I recently decided to donate 25% of pet portrait sales to Toronto Animal Services South, check out their awesome blog here.

This came at the perfect time because I’m right in the middle of restocking the ol’ BigCartel store, and this listing seems to be the hottest item at the moment. However, because I still work a full-time day job, I’m allotting myself only what I can handle in the evenings, which right now is just about one portrait a night*. So with all that said, I’m offering one portrait for $65 or two for $100. *

Here are some more examples, click any of them to be taken to the listing.

*Portraits are painted with Windsor & Newton watercolours on a 9″ x 12″ sheet of 140 lb cold press watercolour paper. Ships unframed, in a rigid mailer.

*Some people seem concerned that I’m done with my original abstract ‘style’. You people are crazy. I’m addicted to making things, this is a product of that. I have worked really hard the last couple months on new work and finding homes for those new works and now that I’ve built up a bit of inventory,  I’m sort of treating myself to a little vacation, if you will. It won’t be long before you see some new ginormous works from me again.

Le Papillon On The Park is a delicious Quebecois restaurant in Leslieville, and lucky for me, conveniently located five minutes from my house. I’ve been there a number of times and the entire experience is definitely something to write home about. (Not to mention: they’re Toronto’s original creperie! They have their own rooftop garden! … That last one is particularly impressive if you ask me).  The food is spectacular, the service is genuine, and its not too fancy, so its my kind of spot.

Max MacDonald has been showing his work in the sprawling dining room at Le Papillon since they opened a few years ago, but recently they decided to mix things up and have invited me to share the walls with him. Max is an incredibly talented, multi-faceted artist and I’m so lucky to have met him, let alone be showing alongside his amazing work. Right now I have eight pieces scattered around the dining room, but in the coming weeks and months I’ll be switching things up and adding some more recent work as it gets freed up from other galleries and spaces. I am really, really excited about this opportunity, a public place to house my work. The Bigués are so unbelievably supportive of local artists, I could not find a better environment if I tried. If in the next little while you’re looking to see my stuff in person, this is the place to do that (and eat some gourmet poutine).

Here’s a peak at the restaurant after we got together this week to hang the work.

my favourite of max’s

EDIT: For a price list of the work hanging at Le Papillon, please click here.

]]> http://nervrom.com/2013/03/01/le-papillon-on-the-park/feed/ 1 nervrom SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC my favourite of max's SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC http://nervrom.com/2013/02/27/house-of-moments/ http://nervrom.com/2013/02/27/house-of-moments/#comments Wed, 27 Feb 2013 17:21:20 +0000 nervrom http://nervrom.com/?p=1680 Continue reading →]]> It still feels surreal.

Thank you so much to everyone who made this show possible: Hamid & Sil for believing in my work, Adam for his encouragement, support & frame-making expertise, Fay Ninon, all the musical acts, and all friends, family & fans who made an appearance or sent a kind word, I cannot thank you enough. I am so, so lucky.

Because these works are so insanely large I am finding it increasingly difficult to take an accurate photograph of them. If you’d like to see them in person, they can be found in the corporate room at House of Moments, 386 Carlaw Avenue, Toronto (just north of Dundas) until March 21.

I have nine (NINE!) new paintings to reveal, and I can’t even believe I am still alive, to say the least. Some of the work is nearly six feet tall, which is exciting in its own right  (for the first time I had to rent a truck to transport it all). I’ve never  really painted with such intensity before.

I am really, really excited to be part of this show. House of Moments is an unbelievably gorgeous space, and I’m just feeling so lucky to have my work hanging there for ten days.  Come say hi if you make it!

P.S. I suck, the gallery is located at 386 Carlaw Avenue.