Plein Air Painting at Cheltenham Badlands

I recently took a trip to the Cheltenham Badlands, a place that is home to a sublime collection of red clay hills, and a history that goes back nearly 400 million years. What once lay at the bottom of the ancient sea, now sits above ground as a physical reminder of what once was. After finding out more about the site, I felt compelled to go and experience it first hand. I wanted to find a way to record my sensory experience without just mediating what I was seeing and feeling through a photograph. I decided the most authentic way for me to connect to the landscape was through paint and paper.

Part of the reason I was so drawn to this site, was the colour. A rich iron oxide rock, with green markings throughout. I’m always so drawn to this colour in my own works, whether I’m painting or picking out materials, it always seems to follow me. Knowing the colour palette before hand, I grabbed the materials I needed and fit them all into a small cardboard box. I was leaving late in the day from Peterborough, so I knew I wouldn’t have hours to wait for paint to dry. I quickly packed, and planned for small works on paper that would be completed as visual exercises rather than larger works.

 The drive there was nostalgic for me. I grew up in Oakville, Ontario, not to far from Caledon. I remembered many of the roads and sites as a child, but I had never visited the Badlands, so it still felt very new. As I neared the site, about 30 minutes before arriving, the landscape changed, and I entered the Niagara Escarpment. It takes a few moments to realize this shift, but if you are paying attention, you start to see this vast wall formed of bedrock. It is so vast, that it remains in your horizon line as you drive. It’s a detail that perhaps you might miss if you lived there.

 As I turned down Olde Base Line Road, I had almost arrived. Located on the South east side, between Creditview and Chinguacousy Road, there it was, The Cheltenham Badlands. I parked the car, grabbed my painting supplies and walked up the hill to the entry point of the Badlands Trail. There is no longer access to walk on the badlands, or at least you are strongly encouraged not to. There isn’t anyone patrolling the area, but there is a certain understanding that you will self govern and respect the newly instated rules. I stepped out on to the boardwalk surrounding the perimeter of the Badlands, and I looked out into the vastness, longingly wanting to touch these clay formations and maybe even roll around on top of them if I had the chance. Despite the distance that we were expected to keep, the experience of the site itself was profound.

When I’d arrived it was around 6pm, so the sun was still very much shining, but there was this incredible shadow settling into each indentation of clay. The sun seemed to dance around the surface, but still made visible, these unique crystallizations of mineral and sediment. I quickly opened up my favourite colour ink and started painting, I wanted to capture the depth of the rock while it was still present to me. There was this intense moment, as I moved the paint around between my fingers, looking out towards a sea of red. It felt like I wasn’t consciously painting, in some sense, I felt as though I’d become the rock for that second, and I was no longer painting with my eyes. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t think it has to.