Newfoundland is Jagged and Visceral: Views from The Rock

Newfoundland is new for me, even though I’ve been here once before. It’s a place of extremes—rapidly shifting weather, rolling ocean swells, and landscapes that feel both ancient and alive. Everything here is big. They call it “The Rock” for good reason—there is a lot of rock, and it’s impossible to ignore. These are my views from The Rock.

In the first ten days of this artist residency, I’ve spent much of my time walking the local neighbourhood of Pouch Cove, soaking in the views from the cove and along the East Coast Trail. The wind here is something else—biting, relentless, and utterly commanding. It both drains and invigorates you. At this time of year, being outside feels like being caught in a giant blender someone keeps switching on and off. There’s no point trying to do your hair—the wind has its own ideas.

On this second visit, I’m reminded again why this place is called The Rock. The geology here is incredibly diverse. From cove to cove, the textures, colours, and cuts of stone shift and morph like a visual symphony. It’s a living canvas—raw, jagged, and rich with stories.

The accent and local slang—affectionately known as “Newfinese”—keep me on my toes. At times, I feel like I’ve stepped out of Canada and into a magical land somewhere between Ireland and here. Locals greet me warmly on my walks, but half the time I haven’t a clue what they’re saying. Smiling and nodding works just fine—and a cheerful “Good Morning!” still carries weight in this place of extremes.

My interest in being here is rooted in my cross-Canada adventures over the past two decades. Newfoundland and Vancouver Island may be on opposite coasts, but they share more than you might think. Both are islands—separated by water and time. Both move at their own pace, and both have cultivated a strong sense of identity, shaped by weather, sea, and isolation. We’re islanders, and with that comes pride, resilience, and a deep connection to the land and sea. Fishermen on both coasts ride the same fierce tides in different waters.

I don’t yet know what this second visit—and this deeper look into Newfoundland’s culture—will bring to my work. But I know this: I’m grateful to be here. Grateful for the chance to listen, to look, and to let this wild, visceral place work its way into my art.

Read more about my artist residency with the Pouch Cove Foundation here.