Painting the Character of the Canadian Landscape.
For Canadian artist Jeff Dillon, the natural world has been a source of fascination since childhood. Growing up surrounded by the varied landscapes of British Columbia, Manitoba and Ontario, he developed an early interest in observing and identifying plants, birds and wildlife. That curiosity continues to inform a painting practice defined by expressive colour, fluid movement and a distinctive interpretation of the Canadian landscape.
Based in Ontario’s Waterloo Region, Dillon has spent sixteen years developing an approach to painting that moves beyond literal representation. Working primarily with heavy-body acrylics, he builds his compositions through successive layers, exploring the relationship between light, colour and form. Forests, lakes, changing seasons and dramatic skies become subjects through which he examines the character of a place, often allowing areas of abstraction to emerge within recognisable landscapes.
An elected member of the Society of Canadian Artists, Dillon has created more than 300 original paintings, with works held in private collections internationally and installed in Canadian embassies and official residences across more than twenty countries. His paintings have drawn comparisons with the Group of Seven and Emily Carr, although his approach is equally informed by a broader appreciation of artists who use colour and gesture to interpret the natural world.
In this interview with The Flux Review, Dillon discusses the observations that shape his work, the evolution of his painting practice, his relationships with collectors and the importance of documenting a creative life. He also reflects on the challenge of balancing artistic independence with the demands of running a professional studio, and the countless landscapes he still hopes to paint.
You’ve spent a lot of time outdoors, collecting leaves and learning to identify plants, birds and wildlife across different parts of Canada. Do you think that habit of close observation is still at the heart of the way you paint now?
It is. I’ve always enjoyed exploring fields and forests, collecting leaves, and learning to identify the plants, birds and wildlife around me. That interest is still there when I’m painting. There’s a lot to notice in a landscape, especially when you spend time looking at how the light and weather change it. Even somewhere familiar can catch your attention differently. I might change the colours or exaggerate certain shapes in a painting, but observing what’s there is part of understanding the place before I do anything with it.
The Canadian landscape is central to your work, but you are not interested in photographic realism. What are you trying to hold onto when you simplify or exaggerate a place through colour and gesture?
The character of the place is what matters to me. I want to capture what interests me about it, and that doesn’t necessarily mean painting everything exactly as it appears. Colour and movement give me room to explore that. I can exaggerate something, simplify another area, or work with the lines to draw your eye through the scene while keeping a sense of the place that started it. There are areas in my paintings that look quite abstract up close, but when you step back, they become part of a tree or a stretch of water. I enjoy working that way. And what someone recognises in the finished painting might be a place I’ve never been, something from their own life that they see in it.
Light seems to be one of the most important elements in your paintings. Do you tend to begin with the structure of a landscape, or with a particular quality of light that has caught your attention?
That’s actually difficult to answer because it isn’t necessarily one or the other. It’s the combination of the composition, the colour and the light that interests me. Once I start painting, I’m constantly working with those things, trying to find the right balance for the scene I’m trying to capture. A change in one area affects what’s happening around it, so I’m going back over things and adjusting them as the painting develops.
You have developed a very recognisable way of using heavy-body acrylics, with strong colour and movement across the surface. What is it about that material that suits the way you want a landscape to feel?
I actually started with fluid acrylics and moved to heavy-body acrylics a number of years ago. I liked the extra body and texture, although my paintings aren’t heavily textured. I build them through layers, continually going back over areas, rather than applying one thick layer of paint. The drying time is a big part of why acrylic works for me. I don’t add anything to slow it down because I like that it dries quickly and lets me keep going over it. That’s how much of the colour and movement develops as I work.
Forests, lakes, wildlife, winter scenes and changing weather all recur throughout your work. Are there particular subjects you find yourself returning to because they still feel unresolved?
Not at all. I don’t feel there’s anything unresolved about them. Nature has always interested me, and that carries through into what I choose to paint. I studied horticulture in school, and I’ve always been known as the person with lots of plants. There’s something fascinating about living things and the variety you find in them. Canada has so many different landscapes, and I’ve been lucky enough to see a lot of them, but I’m also mesmerised by environments around the world. There’s no shortage of subjects that hold my attention.
Collectors sometimes connect your work to the Group of Seven and Emily Carr. Do you welcome that association, or is it important to you that the work is read within a more contemporary context?
I’m honoured by those comments. I think the Group of Seven and Emily Carr bring a connection to the Canadian landscape, which is what I paint most often, so I can understand why people see that association. There’s also movement in my painting, and Van Gogh has been an inspiration to me, as he has been to so many artists since his time. But there are many artists, past and present, whose work interests me for different reasons. I don’t think I could point to one comparison and say it explains my work. You’re taking in all these things that inspire you while trying to find your own way of painting.
You have now completed more than 300 original paintings. When you look across that body of work, can you clearly see moments where your visual language changed or became more confident?
I can see changes, although I think a lot of them happened through simply continuing to paint. Years ago, I set myself a goal of completing 100 paintings in five years. I wanted to achieve it, but the bigger reason was to establish a routine, to make painting a regular part of my life despite how busy everything else could be. I did achieve it, and then I did it again and again.
The last few years have been different because I’ve been working full-time in a studio. I spend longer on the compositions and the details now, and the paintings are becoming larger. They take more time. Having that earlier goal helped me build the habit of working, but the number of paintings matters less to me now than what I’m doing with each one.
Your archive is unusually detailed, recording the chronology, subject and history of the work. Is maintaining that record important to you because you think of the paintings as one continuing body of work rather than isolated pieces?
When you spend hours, days, weeks and years creating something, you’re giving part of your life to it. That’s true of any craft. Whether the paintings follow a consistent style or theme or go in different directions, they tell the story of what you were passionate about, how you saw things and how you felt at that time. Keeping the archive allows me and others to look back across all of that. Each painting has its own history, but together they show where so much of my life has gone. It’s your handprint on the cave wall, in a way.
You work independently from your studio in Waterloo Region while also showing through galleries. Has maintaining control over the way your work is presented and sold become an important part of your practice?
It has, and I very much enjoy dealing directly with collectors. I like hearing the stories behind their lives and why they connect with a particular painting. Those conversations are a regular part of what I do, and as the number of collectors and people following my work grows, I do my best to stay in touch.
I’ve also appreciated the support of the two galleries I’m currently with in Canada. My original work tends to sell fairly quickly, so I don’t have a large enough supply of paintings to support many more galleries, especially with the time I’m spending on each piece now. Alongside creating the work, I oversee almost every aspect of the business. Anyone doing this for a living will understand how overwhelmingly time-consuming it can be, particularly with how much is expected of artists beyond painting. I honestly don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep doing everything myself, but for now, I do.
Your work has travelled far beyond Canada, including international collections and Canadian embassy installations. Does it feel different knowing that paintings rooted in the Canadian landscape are being experienced in completely different parts of the world?
I’m very honoured to be included in Canadian embassy installations, and proud to have that in my CV. Being recognised as a Canadian artist and having my paintings represent something of this country overseas means a great deal to me. So much of what I paint comes from the landscapes here. What also interests me is thinking about the conversations happening in those spaces, the people meeting and the relationships being built, with my artwork there as part of the surroundings. You don’t necessarily think about that when you’re in the studio working on a painting.
You have also started sharing more personal studio writing about the discoveries, struggles and decisions behind the finished paintings. Has putting those experiences into words changed the way you think about your own creative process?
It hasn’t changed how I think about the process. These thoughts aren’t new to me; I’m just sharing more of them. Some are quite personal, and I’m a private person, so putting them into writing for other people to read can be difficult. There’s so much sharing now, and I don’t always feel comfortable with that. I do want to give people some context about me and my work, but I’m also hoping they’ll look at a painting and think about their own lives. What does it remind them of? How does it make them feel? I enjoy hearing those responses, especially when someone shares a memory or a personal connection I couldn’t have anticipated when I was painting it.
After sixteen years of professional painting and such a substantial body of work behind you, what still makes you look at a landscape and think, ‘I need to paint that’?
Anyone who’s spent time around a photographer, an artist or a writer has probably seen that moment when something catches their attention. For me, it’s usually the composition, even if what I’m looking at isn’t exactly what I’ll ultimately paint. There’s an idea there, and I’ll take a photograph to keep it so I can come back to it later. I have a huge library of those ideas and inspirations, things I want to paint. The saddest part is knowing I’ll never be able to paint all of them in my lifetime.
For more information, visit Jeff’s website and Instagram
To follow Jeff of Facebook, visit Jeff Dillon Fine Art
