I first saw the country north of Superior while tree planting years ago, soon after starting to paint. Tree-planting terrain is not pretty. It is mostly open, but with unwanted haggard stands left to droop and rot, with slash piles (discarded branches), patches of uneven rock, and swamp left entirely without order. I couldn’t stop looking at it. Afterwards, hitchhiking home along the north shore, I longed to stop and look forever. It was the random array of elements that I couldn’t resist, and it is still the chance arrangement of things that sparks a painting. Three recent trips have reinforced this effect. The huge hills crush all categories and block attempts to indicate with paint. I can only defer in colour to a presence that I do not understand, leaving viewers to fend for themselves.