Hello. My name is Jany.
Nice to meet you.

Childhood years

Born and raised in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, I am a self-taught artist. My first day of drawing was when I was three years of age. Living in a violent, physically abusive and drug-filled home, my brother, one of five other siblings, put some markers and paper in front of me and said, “draw what you see.” I’ve been drawing ever since.

His other words of advice were that happiness was my responsibility. As a result, I created my own happy spaces, where the world was kind and full of adventure. My days were spent exploring the forests just outside of my home. If exploring wasn’t an option, running with my brother filled my days—taking in the shape of every tree throughout the neighbourhoods, the colours of the sky as the sun set, and smelling every scent that nature provided with the changing seasons. When trapped indoors, my mind would flood with memories of the adventures and I would draw to deal with the physical and mental pain of abuse until I fell asleep on the floor, marker still in hand.

My first art sale was at eight years of age. I was commissioned to do some cartoon characters for a teacher that felt I had talent. That simple request was a game changer. Wanting to learn more art techniques that could help me afford drawing supplies, countless hours were spent immersed at the local library admiring the works of many artists. Delving into artists that told a story, American folk painter Grandma Moses was one of the first who caught my attention. She captured beautiful moments in daily life. Following her creations was a step to my own storytelling through painting, such as scenes of children skating on a pond, building snowmen and playing ball, and scenes of a simpler way of life. This lead to the beginning of my experiments on wood. Using wood, nature’s canvas, was more affordable than a stretched canvas. Wood was also something that made others feel a sense of warmth and connection as they stared at my painted scenes of childhood memories, which they had forgotten about themselves. I’ve been doing commissions ever since.

My life in climbing

Art remained but became secondary to other elements of life, including getting married young and sharing a life in the outdoors with my husband. Activities included mountain biking, running, hiking, canoeing and eventually rock climbing. We spent years travelling to countless destinations to fulfill our need for a life full of adventure. Always wanting to push the threshold of my perceived physical limits, I gravitated to climbing the 5.13 grade with the hope of inspiring other women to follow suit. 5.13 wasn’t a common feat for a woman in the early 1990s, and it was an important and achievable goal for me, so I went out and did it. Becoming a sponsored, highly photographed climber travelling extensively worldwide, doing numerous 5.13 sport climbs and 5.11 traditional climbs was a dream come true. Over the years, it was a privilege to make it on covers of magazines with countless photos and articles about how to inspire.

Adding to the life of climbing, indoor, competitive sport climbing and bouldering were next. Becoming 2nd in Canada and achieving the podium in numerous other competitions, it was clear climbing was like breathing, essential to my being. Natural and flowing, it gave me the best and worst views of myself—and an opportunity to be outdoors all day. With some sports there is greater risk and I became the first responder to several fatal climbing accidents, which carved its own path in my state of being. This is another story in itself. To give back to the climbing community, I became a member of the access organization in Ontario (Ontario Alliance of Climbers) to help secure access to climbing areas since climbing was and still is considered a non-traditional and high risk activity.

Being an ambassador for the sport and for several outdoor companies, changing the way the world saw climbing and females climbing hard had its challenges, but they were not insurmountable goals. Through the development of incredible friendships that were born through the sport, and with the efforts of many women and men, climbing is becoming mainstream. Over the years, days filled with pumped forearms, laughing, cursing and chalk-covered faces were followed by camp stove dinners, beer, campfire stories and sometimes rain-filled tents.

My cycling life

That being said, my husband’s first passion was mountain biking so we did that, too. As with pushing the threshold in climbing, mountain biking racing was unavoidable. Accustomed to suffering and loving to climb hills was a formula for success. It wasn’t uncommon for me to vomit from pushing my limits and keep riding. This was a skill that helped win numerous races in my division, including becoming National Canadian Champion where vomiting in front of a crowd after crossing the finishing line was met with applause. Such good times. Wanting to give back to the cycling community, like climbing, I became an ambassador for Freewheel Cycle in Dundas, Ontario. I’ve had the honour to represent them for over 20 years to date, and it was through their support that my pursuits in cycling and racing were achievable.

Adding to my mountain biking adventures, road racing came next, since it was different and seemed terrifying. It was a great and definitely adrenaline-inducing experiment, since road racing seemed like a pack of squirrels on Red Bull. After four years of road racing crash-free, with numerous podium finishes and qualifying for the World Cup in Denmark, I retired from that adventure in my life. These sports, on a competitive and non-competitive level, created incredible experiences and friendships that are carved into my being and give me the complete understanding of so many sentimental moments that are part of my art today.

Cancer!

My life of adventure came to a screeching halt when at the age of 39 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. With two types of cancer within five tumours, and one of the cancers aggressive, it meant life was taking a detour. First came the removal of both breasts (bilateral mastectomy). I did get reconstruction and new breasts I call “gummy bears!” They’ll be smiling and perky forever. It was followed by six months of chemotherapy followed by another “chemo-esque” therapy for an additional year, which meant two years of challenges that included the common hair loss, fatigue, vomiting, etc. It also compromised my heart to 40 per cent capacity for over a year and gave me a permanent neuromuscular fascial condition that I live with. This condition makes every muscle movement feel like my muscles are razorblades cutting over each other. A female “Wolverine” so to speak. Drawing and painting provided a distraction from the discomforts of my new life. Surviving one minute at a time, through all the sickness and pain, I needed redirection. Reliving the adventures through my art did just that.

My start to woodburning

Fast forward to years later and illness knocked on my door again. The medication prevented me from sleeping and mixing colours felt impossible. It was time to to take my art to another level. I made a call to a friend who owned a wood business. Buying a woodburner, it was time to take my skills down a new path of woodburning, also known as pyrography. Taking all my previous art skills into burned, silhouette drawings on wood was the ticket to a new form of medicine. The connection to my art ran deep and felt pure as the storytelling that filled my mind was transferred onto nature’s canvas. Soon, it became the blank page for me to document others’ most precious memories, creating heartfelt, sentimental art pieces that are made out of a mutual love for adventure and the outdoors.

New goals in climbing

At the age of 50, 11 years after my original cancer diagnosis, I climbed another 5.13a. I did it partly to prove that I could at 50 and partly because, well, I like that grade. I’m not only still climbing and trying to achieve new goals, I’m mountain biking in the mountains with my husband and friends. Life is better than ever despite my chronic pain. The pain is the constant reminder that I am alive, that I am fortunate to have this life and that growing old is a gift. It is through these experiences of life, sport and friendship, as well as listening to the stories others share, that keeps me close to nature, the feeling of adventure and the capacity to create authentic, heartfelt moments on nature’s canvas.