Donna Morrison was born and raised in the beautiful Okanagan Valley, British Columbia, Canada. After earning her Bachelor's Degree with a Fine Arts Major she set out on her life's journey of travelling and painting. She has compiled 3 series of paintings in several mediums, a collection of short stories, both humorous and tragic, and a journal of poems titled, "I Walk". Donna invites you to share her travel experiences.

Donna...
The first carefree 13 years of my life were spent in Okanagan Centre, British Columbia, Canada. It is a small fruit farming community bordering beautiful Okanagan Lake. It is also very much 'off the beaten track' and therefore was not frequented much by tourists in those years. My six brothers, sisters and I had the 'run of the hills'! Midnight orchard raids, apple wars with the enemies, and leisure-filled days swimming, rafting, fishing, or simply basking in the warmth of the sun. Those were the days!
In February 1969, one of the coldest winters on record, our family home burnt to the ground. My parents sold out and we moved north to the Thompson-Okanagan region of British Columbia. Although Kamloops (before amalgamation) then only boasted a population of approximately 20,000, it felt to me a smelly, industrialized, over-populated dust-bowl. My heart sank. Life as I knew it was over.
That huge transition during those precious pubescent years was difficult to put it lightly. In fact, I see now that that shocking move into my new reality instilled in me the heart of a wanderer. Now, in 2003, I have travelled three continents and three islands still possibly searching for my childhood utopia. My ideal garden is unravelling before me. With each new country, culture and experience I seem to find a missing piece of that euphoric puzzle.

I am thankful for the freedom I have been blessed with to paint my way this far on my life's journey. Not all of my experiences have been pleasant, however they have rewarded me with an intimate education that no textbook could have given me. From evening strolls in the central plazas to guerrilla bombings. From a brutalized rape victim left for dead in a ditch to the tenderness of a grandmother. I have discovered one common underlying truth....Humans, us in our strengths and our frailties, our love and our fears do not vary geographically, economically, nor culturally.
Wherever I've been, there is the mother standing thoughtfully before her 'fridge' (whatever form that may be) pondering its' contents and planning the next meal lying therein. There is always the grandmother with a child nestled safely in her lap. The child gazing in rapt wonderment of the wrinkled wisdom and un-conditional love that surrounds it. Meanwhile there are always the old men gathered at the town gates or in the central squares. Their aged, shrunken heads with enlarged ears and noses, their watchful, beady eyes and knarled, cigarette stained hands at first give the impression of idle gossip and speculation. Yet, really is the execution of an all important task. The duty of keeping track of the comings and goings and everything in between. The townsmen standing guard, protecting their women and children and trying to stay useful.

These are some of the re-occurring images that have guided my brushes over endless metres of canvas, board and clay. I keep my images simple and the message bold in order to speak to the average person. I try to reach the audience who may never have the opportunity to experience the cultures and the people who have shared glimpses of their lives with me. My message is quite simply....'Recognising sameness can be the beginning of acceptance.'

Donna Morrison - Ph: 250-719-1383 or e-mail: Donna