I’ve been going through a difficult time artistically for the last three months or so. My last painting, which I started on October 25th, was much more difficult than it should have been. Given its size, the painting stage should have lasted about two or three weeks, but I only managed to complete it on December 16th. Since then, I haven’t been able to paint in oils. I visited Amsterdam early in January, and I thought this would shake me out of my slump (travel is often invigorating for me), but although I saw a lot of great art and did some drawings and sketches while I was there, I’ve been struggling since I got home.
Slumps happen. Art requires an enormous outpouring of energy, and sometimes, one needs a break. (By “break”, I don’t mean vacation. When I’m on what most people would call “vacation”, I’m usually working as hard as ever. The kind of break I’m talking about here is involuntary.) The break, however, is extremely uncomfortable. Working is difficult, but it’s easier than not working. At the end of a workday, I may feel exhausted; my feet, muscles, and joints may hurt from standing all day long; my brain may be too tired to be able to handle the simplest creative task; but there is an emotional lightness, even when the painting is going through a difficult stage. In contrast, when I can’t work, all I am able to do is try to work, fail, and be miserable.
But a slump doesn’t usually last this long. After a week or two, I always get back to work. This slump has been different.
A few days ago, I noticed that the timing of this slump is suspiciously close to certain political events that have taken place south of the border. Until shortly before the U.S. presidential election last November, I had been avoiding North-American news sources, which tend to upset me. My main news sources were the Asahi Shimbun and the NHK, which I read and listened to in order to practice my Japanese. But around the time of the election, I started consuming North American sources of news again.
Reading or hearing the words of Donald Trump is not conducive to making art. The man is full of hatred. He does not understand the nature of reality. If he wants to believe something, then, as far as he is concerned, it is true. He therefore tells lies. He is the antithesis of honesty. Any input from Trump is antithetical to making art. Art is about truth and honesty, and it is also about love. If I am to make art, I have to keep my mind free of lies, dishonesty, and hatred—free of Donald Trump.
Over the last few weeks, Trump has made threats to impose hefty tariffs on imports to the U.S. from Canada and Mexico. At first, the media viewed this as a negotiating tactic. As time went on, however, it became increasingly clear that there is no rationale for applying such severe, across-the-board tariffs to Canada.
At the same time, Trump started talking about making Canada the “fifty-first state”. This made me extremely angry. I was pleased to see that other Canadians were as angry as I was. As I write this, Canadians are furiously boycotting goods made in the U.S.A., spending extra time at the grocery store checking labels, and cancelling planned vacations in the United States. (Canada and Mexico, together, make up 53% of international tourism in the United States.) I myself cancelled a trip that I had planned for later this month. I was going to go to New York for ten days to draw the figure at Spring Studio. The hotel rooms were booked; the train tickets were purchased. We cancelled everything. I had also been planning to make a trip to New Jersey in the spring to see friends. That won’t be happening, either. One of the reasons I returned to Canada was to paint the Canadian landscape, and I will focus on that instead.
This morning, I realized that the tariffs were never about anything other than forcing Canada to become a part of the United States. With the further addition of Greenland, the United States would then become a sort of empire. Donald Trump literally thought that the threat of 25% tariffs would cause Canadians to clamour to join the United States as a fifty-first state. He waited until the last possible moment, and when what he expected did not happen, he postponed the tariffs.
I lived in the United States for a total of approximately 25 years. Let me first concede that the U.S. is a large and diverse country and that not every American is the same. I have friends in the United States who are good people. What I am going to say below is not a condemnation of their character. The people I chose to make friends with in the United States are thoughtful and compassionate people who treat others with respect. Unfortunately, they are not representative of the culture of the United States.
American disrespect for Canada did not begin with Donald Trump. It was always there. Americans have an attitude of ownership towards Canada. They already view Canada as their fifty-first state. This is why Donald Trump’s comments drew ire in Canada but were barely discussed in U.S. media.
An example of this attitude is something one sees a lot online. An American will post to a discussion, saying that when they travel abroad, they say they are Canadian. They say this not with embarrassment but with matter-of-factness, as if it were completely natural for them to pretend to be Canadian. They seem to expect that Canadians will be flattered.
Let’s take a step back here. How would an American feel if a Canadian were to stick an American flag on their backpack and pretend to be American when traveling abroad? I cannot imagine that they would react with anything other than disapproval.
It is disrespectful for an American to claim to be Canadian. You may not like your president. You may not have voted for him. You may disagree with his policies. You may not approve of some of the behaviours of your compatriots. None of that makes you Canadian. If you dislike your government, do something to change it. If you don’t feel proud of your country, work to change it so you can be proud of it. It is no more appropriate for you to pretend to be Canadian than it would be for a Russian to pretend to be Ukranian, for an Iranian to pretend to be Syrian, or for someone from mainland China to pretend to be Taiwanese.
The irony is that the very attitude of ownership that is behind pretending to be Canadian is itself American. When you, an American, call yourself Canadian, you are displaying one of the worst American traits: an attitude of superiority, ownership, and entitlement.
Before you go around pretending that Canada is the same as the United States, show some humility. Learn something about Canada. When you do, you will realize that it is not an extension of the United States. Canada is a country with its own proud history and its own culture. Even though most of us speak English, we have our own accent, vocabulary, and spelling. Many of us speak French or an Indigenous language. We are not your vassal state. We do not want to be a part of your country. Ever.
Another place where Americans reveal their attitude of ownership with respect to Canada is the casual way they talk about moving to Canada. The moment anything goes wrong in the U.S., Americans post to social media saying, “If so-and-so wins, I’m moving to Canada”. And Canadians, always nice to a fault, say, “You are welcome here!”
The reality is that Americans are no more welcome in Canada than Canadians are in the United States. The U.S. makes it extremely difficult for a Canadian to move there. Why should it be any easier for an American to move to Canada?
When I was preparing to move back to Canada, an American I knew, who heard I was moving back to Canada, got it into her head that she wanted to move to Canada as well. I tried to explain to her that it’s not so easy for someone who is not a Canadian citizen to move to Canada, but she wouldn’t hear me. In the end, after looking into it, she realized it wasn’t going to be possible. She spoke about it bitterly, saying “Canada doesn’t want people like us”. I tried to explain that the United States doesn’t want Canadians like her, either. She couldn’t see the symmetry.
I was not born in Canada. I came to Canada as a child because of an accident of fate, because a family member moved to Canada for personal reasons and later brought me over. I did not move to Canada willingly, and I did not like Canada initially. But over time, I grew to love Canada. By the time I went to the States for university, I felt fully Canadian.
Just as a person who was born in Canada did not choose to be Canadian, I did not choose to be Canadian. But like all Canadians, I love Canada. I love the spartan, humble, windswept landscape that has formed under the harsh winters; I love the cold winters, their crisp freshness, the feeling of a layer of ice forming on my face, as painful as it can be; I love the snow: when it’s powdery, when it’s fresh and pristine, and even when it’s stale and dirty. I love the autumn leaves and the spring tulips. There are other things I love about Canada that are difficult to put into words. I would defend Canada with my life. I only spent seven years in Canada before leaving for the United States, but two-and-a-half decades in the U.S. did not make me feel any less Canadian. I could have applied for U.S. citizenship but chose not to. (At one point, when it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to convince my husband, who also happens to be Canadian, to move back to Canada with me, I briefly contemplated getting U.S. citizenship, until I learned about the requirement to take an oath to take up arms to defend the United States. I could not fight on the side of the U.S. against Canada.) As a Canadian student in the U.S. receiving financial aid from my university, I was subject to a very unfair tax in Canada, and I paid that tax (plus penalties because I could not pay immediately—I was taxed on money that paid for my room and board but that I never actually received in the form of money) because I love Canada. I believe in Canada. I believe in supporting Canada with my taxes.
Canada and the United States are different countries with different cultures. When I lived in the U.S., I lost my Canadian accent almost completely, and most people assumed I was an American and treated me like an American. But I never felt American. I never felt as at home in the States as I do in Canada.
When I first went to the U.S., I experienced culture shock. For one thing, I had a hard time understanding what people were saying. And people were rude and often disrespectful. When I returned to Canada in 2023, I did not feel culture shock, but I could see the difference between the two countries. Over here, the police don’t harass homeless people who are not causing harm or damage. Over here, when I walk into a coffeeshop and am trying to decide what to order, people start lining up behind me, and they only reluctantly go ahead of me after I reassure them that I need more time to decide. Over here, when people wait in line in a government office, no matter how long the line is, they wait patiently and with good humour. They don’t huff and puff to make their displeasure clear and to signal that they are too important to wait their turn. Over here, if a waitress gets the order wrong, the customer does not feel entitled to scold her. Over here, when I am driving in heavy traffic and put on my turn signal, the person behind me in the next lane yields to let me in ahead of them so I can make my turn. Over here, immigrants like me are not an underclass; as our prime minister Justin Trudeau said, “a Canadian is a Canadian is a Canadian”. This is a kinder and gentler place. And I hope it will always remain that way.
Canadians are famous for their politeness. But they are not just polite. They feel equal to others. This is a major difference between the U.S. and Canada. In the U.S., with important exceptions (such as the African American and Hispanic communities, as well as the friends I referred to above), almost everybody is trying to be better than somebody else. This is why Americans refuse to establish a single-payer health-care system. To an American, it is more important to get better health care than someone else than it is to get the best health care possible. In the U.S., it is of the utmost importance to be better off than someone else. This sentiment does not exist in Canada. And it never will. The harsh climate of our beloved land makes us humble, and it forces us to rely on and to help each other.
In Canada, if someone accidentally steps on my foot, I can say “Sorry”, and the person won’t assume I’m an idiot or a fool. In contrast, in the U.S., I felt that I always had to stand my ground. In the U.S., if you don’t make it clear with your posture that you will not be trifled with, people will walk all over you. As a result, when I lived in the U.S., I developed an American aggressiveness. A tough demeanour is necessary in the U.S., but I did not like it in myself. I returned to Canada in order to be me again.
If you are a Canadian, I hope this piece fills you with gratitude for what a beautiful and precious place this is. If you are an American, I hope you will find in yourself the courage to work to make your country into something you can be proud of again.
In the meantime, I will be avoiding the news and trying to get back to painting.