Artist Collective Studio
7702 18th Ave T0K 0M0 Coleman, AB, Canada

The Australian mining industry and their current practices

Oh god after a lifetime of shovelling with last year resulting in me frozen on the front room couch with a torched lower back we finally ordered a snowblower. S...even hours later with much shame and cursing over its major assemblage I stepped out in the bright shiny day and used it with much environmental guilt and horror at the noise and exhaust but hypocritically (with much Hippocratic oath swearing) enjoying the feeling of minimal back pain. See more

The recent discovery of Neanderthal paintings raises questions about the emergence of the status of artist in the history of humanity.

Hello 2019! The Artist Collective Studio is alive and well. Our core 4 artists are Nichole Yanota, Crystal Leach, Kari Lehr, and Tony Partridge. We have been hibernating in our studio space this winter, focused and ready for the opportunities and challenges ahead. Our vision for the studio had shifted during 2018. With our energy being pulled more directly into our artwork, we lapsed in our offering of workshops and other events to our community. We have seen our lives grow b...usy with commitments and exhibitions, with apprenticeships and expansion and learning new mediums. There are plenty of other organizations in our community who have been diligently hosting wonderful creative events for people to participate in. We'll miss our workshop-hosting days - learning, playing and mingling with our friends and neighbours in the comfort of our own studio. Thank you to all of you who joined in the fun over the past years. We will still be participating in the open studio days during the Artists Studio Tour. See you in Spring!

An Immigrant Carol On my first Christmas Eve in America, I was kicked out of the Chinese restaurant on the 5th Ave. It was the fanciest place I’d worked since I... arrived in NYC, and the longest: three weeks. That day, the manager directed a German family of six to my table. They seemed polite, took a long time deciding on the menu, ordered lots of food, and ate it all. After they rushed out for a Broadway show, the manager called me over, threw the bill in my face, and cursed: Stupid cow, how dumb could you be! Your Beijing University degree went to your ass or what! The German didn’t sign his credit card for his $104 meal. I handed over all the tips I earned that week plus what I had in my wallet, and walked out into the howling wind. The streets were empty except for a few last-minute shoppers. They were all rushing home for Christmas, gifts under their arms. My home was a tiny unheated room in Flushing, emptier and colder than the streets. And I no longer had the rent to pay the landlady, who was waiting for me in the kitchen. Despair froze my eyes, hands, feet. I walked by MoMA and opened its glass door, hoping to warm up before the museum closed for the holiday. The first thing I saw was Monet’s Lily Pond. I knew immediately it was his Reflection of Clouds series, because I’d written an essay on the painting for my art class at Beijing University. It was my first time to be with the original work, and my knees went limp. I sat down on the bench and was transported to the lily pond in Paris. The tight knots in my neck, shoulders and hips began to unwind. The ice in my eyes started melting. I could breathe without feeling the choke in my throat. I sat with Monet till a hand touched my shoulder. The museum is closed, Miss. I looked up. It was a guard, tall, thin, olive skin, and dark hair. First time here? he asked, kindness in his brown eyes. I nodded. First Christmas in NY? I nodded again. He took my hand and invited me to his place on Staten Island, where he shared an apartment with three friends from Greece, Italy and South Africa. They were having a holiday feast. On the ferry, I asked him why he was so kind. We don’t even know each other’s name. He smiled. I know your name. Immigration is written all over your face, also on mine. We wear the same name tag for the Christmas banquet tonight: Immigrant. The sunset touched the torch in the hand of Liberty Lady. It lit up the entire bay. It set my heart on fire. For the first time since I arrived in NYC, I felt hope. My first smile in America. See more

Studio member, Nichole Yanota has her latest works on display at our local cafe - stop by if you’re in the neighbourhood!