While moving outside our bubbles and traveling on vacations are out of the question, we are forced to reminisce on past adventures. In 2019, Kym Greeley traveled on a family trip to the birthplace of her mother in-law, from the furthest easterly point in Newfoundland, to the furthest westerly point on the island where isolation and self-reliance are still daily realities. Not familiar with the west coast, specifically the Codroy Valley, Greeley searched with her family, on their lands, finding memories of structures that once stood, moving through the land where old nails, broken pieces of glass and rusted utensils held untold stories. She learned about a culture so different from her own, where fishing and sailing were replaced with agricultural histories. Families kept records, 3 inches deep, describing every plant that lived on their land. In the Codroy Valley, minimalist vistas, overreaching hills and nestling valleys make us feel safe, while the abundance of immobile train cars create a looming sense of sadness and of abandonment. Being cut off from the world is what Newfoundlanders know best.

Fishing, boats, icebergs and idealized visions of Newfoundland traditions dominate the visual representations of this province to such an extent that we are known only by these caricatures. Greeley attempts to capture modern modes of moving through the landscape. Arriving at viewpoints, we often do not even exit the car; easily we feel satisfied with a snapshot to post on social media to prove our presence.

Travelling on the TCH across Newfoundland onward to the Codroy Valley, Greeley documented the landscape with a high-resolution camera mounted on the dashboard of her car. Using the fixed perspective of the windshield as a compositional frame, the images were the source material for each painting. Greeley explores the modern experience we have of a place, as seen through the window of a car and the lens of a cell phone camera. Greeley explores the modern experience we have of a place, as seen through the window of a car and the lens of a cell phone camera. Her family takes a quick 30 minute walk through the Grand Codroy Estuary, an hour playing on a sandy beach in Searstown, listening to endless descriptions of the Starlite Trail that will never be experienced. In some ways, Greeley says, that she will never know her land like her farming or fishing ancestors. Driving through and upon this land, she notes every turn, curve, pothole and telephone pole in her own ritual of knowing. Traversing the long expanses of road stretching between communities, each minor change grows in significance in a sea of repetitive visuals.