The Tofino Collection

Inspired by my Artist Residency at Middle Beach Lodge

This new series of original paintings continues the slow, gentle rhythm of life — like a perpetual seaside holiday.

There were many things that inspired this next collection of work, but it began with an artist residency I held in November at Middle Beach Lodge. The lodge hosted my family and me for five days. If you haven’t been, it’s an oceanside resort literally perched on a cliff above the Pacific Ocean, with silky sandy beaches bookending the property.

The shared lounge is a warm, rustic, and cozy communal space, with a sweeping 180° view of the ocean that can also be enjoyed from an expansive deck. From this vantage point, I created the first painting in the Tofino Collection, titled I Can See Clearly Now.

We were exceptionally lucky with the November weather. Typically, November in Tofino is foggy and overcast, but for almost our entire stay the skies were clear. As a result, the sunsets were incredibly vivid, pastel rainbows of colour reflecting across the calm, undulating sea.

The intention behind the artist residency was to offer guests an interactive experience with the artist, so I painted live in the lounge each day. What I anticipated might be a busy, highly social environment turned out to be the opposite. While guests were welcome and curious, the overall vibe in the lounge was calm, quiet, and deeply relaxed.

For five days, there was no set schedule beyond painting, walking the beach and rainforest to gather reference photos for future work, and spending quality time with my family. I was largely off my devices, aside from recording a bit of content for both the lodge’s and my own social media. The experience was incredibly restful, rejuvenating, and creatively inspiring.

This stay at Middle Beach Lodge was very different from my usual visits to the area. I go often, but typically can only afford a night or two, usually staying at a friend’s Airbnb in Ucluelet — a ways from Tofino. With tourism booming, resorts like Long Beach Lodge, The Wickaninnish Inn, Middle Beach Lodge, Tin Wis, MacKenzie Beach Resort, and The Pacific Sands Resort are generally out of my price range. Being able to stay at the Middle Beach Lodge for five full days was transformative.

I’m sure many of you can relate: when you go away for just two nights, you really only have one full day to relax, bookended by travel. Staying for five nights meant four full days to truly settle in. It created real space to unwind.

While there, I was reminded of the time I spent in Tofino as a child. My family would often spontaneously drive up in the summer to camp. Back then, you could camp right on the beach — no registration, no permits — just show up, pitch a tent, and stay as long as you liked.

These memories conjured the feeling of being a child again — not just any child, but me as a child. I was very loungy. I don’t know if that’s technically a word, but you’d often find me lying on the floor beside one of our dogs, or curled up on the dog bed, daydreaming. If I was doing anything at all, I’d have a book or a sketchpad in hand. It was the gift of childhood, no responsibilities, and endless room to imagine and create.

Isn’t that what a truly relaxing holiday feels like — or at least what we hope it will feel like?

My four weeks in Vietnam in December weren’t exactly a dreamy, restful holiday. An adventure, yes, but, there was the discomfort of extreme humidity, hard beds and intermittent functioning plumbing. But what it was is unplugged. Once again, I let go of my devices. I was fully present for the experience and everything it had to offer.

Now that I’m settling back into the studio after a long hiatus, I want to be honest: I’ve felt hesitant and anxious. After reflecting, I realized there are two reasons why.

First, I spent 33 years in my first career working on the clock, always needing to be on time for the next client. For three of those years, I overlapped that career with building my art practice, working 14-hour days while also caring for my parents as their health declined. And for the past three years since retiring from hairdressing, I’ve felt a self-imposed pressure to succeed in the demanding art world.

Second, I had just spent a full month away from work — away from devices, the internet, and painting. There was no schedule and no timeline. It was extraordinary. That time away felt like a reset, a reordering of priorities and a fresh perspective on time and the hustle culture I had quietly slipped into.

I want to honour how I’m feeling and give myself the grace to create when the muse arrives, rather than forcing creativity into a rigid schedule. Because of this, I’ve chosen to release one painting at a time, whenever each piece feels complete, rather than launching the entire collection all at once. I hope you’ll support, and be inspired by this soft, slow approach.

As part of this process, I began writing my newsletter to let my collectors know what was unfolding. I had completed the original painting created at the lodge and needed to title it. While writing about the stagnation I was feeling back in the studio, I felt that heaviness begin to lift, and the title I Can See Clearly Now surfaced. I know the song best through Canadian artist Holly Cole, whose slow, velvety interpretation has long resonated with me. The title felt like the perfect reflection of both the painting and my emotional state — and a quiet echo of how the skies cleared during our time on the coast.

Around the same time, I created an 8 x 8 painting during a moment of frustration, simply trying to loosen up. I had no expectations for it, and because of that, it flowed freely. I loved the outcome. When it came time to title that piece, another song title came to mind: Lemonade.

We have a record player in our great room, and over the holidays we took turns choosing albums. One of my favourites is Lemonade by Beyoncé. What I admire most about that album is how she transformed pain into art — turning hardship into something powerful and beautiful. It’s a philosophy passed down from her grandmother, and one that deeply resonates with me.

Turning challenge into art is at the core of my creative origins and identity. The very first collection I ever painted was born from grief — from witnessing my parents slowly disappear into dementia. I channelled that pain into something meaningful, painting our shared memories of rose gardens, floral china place settings, and blossom-patterned wallpaper.

Since then, more song titles have continued to drift into my mind, each one quietly waiting for its moment. Waiting for a painting to emerge from it’s inspiration. This time around, the muse is being summoned from song and writing and the paintings will follow. But, I’ll save those stories for another day. TBC.

In writing about these themes — slowing down, resisting hustle culture, making space for daydreaming — it seems the muse has found me again. I feel that familiar itch of inspiration returning, and I’m excited to share more as the work unfolds.

Until then, you can visit www.ronei.ca/the-tofino-collection to see what becomes.

Warmly,

Ronei