I grew up in the tobacco district of Southern Ontario in the 60’s, a place where rural life was constantly shifting under the pressures of big agribusiness. The subtle and rapid changes sweeping the community left a lasting impression on me. The contradictions in rural life still echo in my work today, where I often explore themes of stillness and transformation.
My art journey began almost as soon as I could hold a pencil. I remember being inspired by the simplest things, like the worn-down pencils my father would bring home from work. Both parents had natural creativity, but economic realities pushed them toward early adulthood and away from pursuing art. Growing up in that environment taught me a lot – artistic endeavours were loved as hobbies, not careers. Practical skills were emphasized in our household, but they never quite dimmed the creative spark that would define my path.
Choosing a path outside a formal fine art schooling, I’ve developed my practice in other ways—through voracious reading, independent research, and a willingness to experiment intuitively with materials. Process matters deeply to me. I spend long, immersive periods with a medium or concept, until I feel I’ve explored all it can offer. When a direction feels spent, I move on, constantly searching for that balance between idea and process.
Even as a child, the pull of making things was strong enough that my family gave over our basement for my first studio, accommodating my late-night creative bursts. In the 2000s, I briefly tried a conventional job for security’s sake, but it quickly became clear that distancing myself from art took too heavy a personal toll. Making art, in some form, has always been the constant in my life.
Much of my inspiration comes from what’s overlooked—the quiet movement of light in a silent room, the subtle play of shadow and illumination in ordinary corners. That deliberate attention to the mundane brings a meditative quality and a distinct presence to my work. I learn a lot by studying other artists’ techniques, but I ultimately strive to honor the stillness and atmosphere of rural and domestic spaces as I see them.
I am deeply tied to an authentic process and a focus on the ‘overlooked’. Each piece is rooted in values I hold dear—reflection, careful observation, and respect for the slow unfolding of meaning. My work has grown in response to my rural upbringing, always returning to ideas about place, change, and the quiet persistence of beauty.
For me, art is not just a personal act; it’s a vital societal force, an ongoing conversation about what we notice and choose to preserve. My hopes for my career are simple but meaningful: to keep finding new ways to honor the unnoticed and to create moments of genuine connection, wherever this quietly luminous path leads me.
bonnie baker studio 