He first became acquainted with that rebel place through an invitation. Like a potent drug it only took one hit and his addiction was complete. It appeared in his dreams, sometimes while listening to the car radio, or watching the telly, in distracting conversations, or in a glance from one of his children, and it appeared in strange and tangential ways, through his paintings created for the most part, far away from their inspirational origins. He came to believe that the real artist was memory itself; that the recollection of his time there was in and of itself a work of art... albeit an unfaithful record.
Steven Rhude, Wolfville, NS