I’m greeted with a warm smile and kind eyes. The presence of this couple is welcoming and I take out my pen and paper and begin my notes, not wanting to miss a thing. Painting and art is something I’ve longed to do – and throughout this interview I’m called even more to “stop talking about it and pick up a paintbrush and paint” as I’m gently told by Christopher Johnston, the creative spirit behind Ice Bear Studios located on Vancouver Island, BC.
Christopher Johnston, a wonderful artist, has been painting since he can remember. He attended the Toronto Artist’s Workshop as a teen, later attending Sheridan College and the Ontario College of Art. Chris then worked in the advertising and communications industry, gaining 25 years of experience as a designer and art director, until he moved to the west coast and decided to put his visions to canvas and sculpture with a commitment to a lifetime of art.
Through Ice Bear Studios comes beautiful art and “Spiritual Paintings”, which are Chris’s favourite pieces to do as he is so deeply connected to it. The painting Ice Bear is a prime example of his spiritual paintings. There is an incredible depth and beauty within it, with layers of colour in shades of blue, the style brings out the spirit and life in the bear. “Ice Bear is my totem,” I’m told by Chris who says it came to him through a series of events very personal to him. “It is what guides me to create the things I create and live the life I live.” The power behind the name is evident.
Chris Johnston’s work includes paintings, sculptures and large murals as high as 23 ft and has had shows in New York and Dallas. His work has traveled as far as to reach the Dalai Lama. I’m told the story of how Chris painted Kevin Locke, a world renowned traditional hoop dancer who performed in front of the Dalai Lama. A Dallas committee then acquired a reproduction of the painting Chris had done of Kevin’s various positions of the dance as a gift for the Dalai Lama.
With his art around the world and gifted to incredible leaders, I am surprised to learn of the self-doubt and uncertainty he tells me comes with being an artist and creating a new piece. Getting up on stage and speaking before people who’ve just seen his work is where he shows this uncertainty. “Saying something profound is their expectation,” he says. He finds himself nervous about what to say, “Until of course he begins to speak and they have to pull him off stage.” This coming from his wife Charronne, a key component to his life and business, who Chris tells me “has listened to the way I speak and talk about the images and she’s been able to write what I feel. The images with the word make the pieces even stronger.” They have a beautiful flow together, speaking about his work and their life.
A lot of passion stirs under the surface and Medicine Man is an example of what lies beneath. It’s an intense and vivid painting he created with some reluctance to bring it to any galleries, only to have it purchased before it was even placed. Dark it is, but the intense beauty is something to be seen. The images within Medicine Man are something that was with Chris for a long time that had to come out. He creates his art without making it commercial or “prettying it up to make it fit in somewhere,” striving only to create the images as he sees it.
Painting to Chris Johnston is like breathing to the rest of us. For him, it’s a release of his soul and a connection to those around him. He paints from the blood as he tells me, revealing images that aren’t always seen by everyone. Every piece has a spirit of its own, creating each in a pallet specific to that work.
The canvases are usually 44in. x 44in. (which produce the best quality possible) and go up to 23ft (for large murals). Artists are scaled and currently his original pieces sell for $10,000. His canvases are transformed through photo and digitizing to be printed on cards and as part of the creation of Serendipity, the portfolio containing Ice Bear’s work.
When asked about where he creates his art, he says it’s a “large closet”, describing further, “It’s a studio with no windows, no paint on the walls, a concrete floor, small and self contained. It’s the only place I can work” he tells me. It’s a place of seclusion, which he desires more then anything.
He performs a ritual before he begins, centering himself to bring about a work of perfection. He accepts nothing less, providing this analogy: “We don’t expect nurses to drop a certain percentage of babies per year and say ‘it was a mistake’”. We laugh at the scary truth in that statement and he continues, “This should be carried into everything we do, limiting error. Nothing is perfect but we can all strive to do the best in everything.”
Christopher Johnston, Ice Bear
Ice Bear Studios
www.icebearstudios.com
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