Title: Breath of Fresh Air
Medium: Oil on Canvas
Size: 34”x12”
Year: 2025
Artist: Korrie Dawn Iablonski
Sometimes, a painting becomes more than the image you set out to create. It carries memories, marks a season of your life, and takes on a meaning you couldn't have planned from the beginning.
Breath of Fresh Air is one of those paintings for me.
A flower with a family history
When I decided to paint Breath of Fresh Air, I was looking for a subject that would suit an unusually shaped canvas. The tall, graceful form of gladiolus came to mind almost immediately. Their shape was perfect for filling the space, but I also wanted to paint them because of the memories I associate with these flowers.
I remember shopping for gladiolus bulbs with my parents and helping plan the garden. We loved them so much that we decided to plant every colour we could find. We didn't need to settle on a favourite when we could enjoy them all.
Years later, those same flowers became part of our wedding celebration. Both sides of our family came together to pick the gladiolus and arrange them into centrepieces. Some of our family members still talk about that day as one of their treasured memories from the celebration.
It's funny how a flower can hold so many memories. What began as something we planted and enjoyed in the garden became part of a day that brought our families together. Painting gladiolus gave me a way to revisit those memories while creating something of my own.
The uncomfortable middle
At the time, I was building momentum as an artist. My skills were developing, and so was my confidence, but I was still learning to trust myself and my ability to bring an idea to life.
I was also recovering from depression, and painting had become an important outlet for the complicated feelings I was working through.
I envisioned Breath of Fresh Air with dramatic lighting, saturated colours, and a dark background that would make the gladiolus stand out. I'm naturally drawn to that contrast. I love the way strong light can transform an ordinary subject into something that feels almost theatrical.
But having a clear vision and knowing how to achieve it are two very different things.
The painting reached that familiar stage artists sometimes call the ugly phase. The canvas wasn't reflecting what I had imagined, and the gap between the two was frustrating. I didn't yet have the confidence in my skills that I have today, and I became overwhelmed.
Eventually, I put the painting in a corner and left it there for a few months.
I didn't stop thinking about it, though. I knew there was something special in the idea, and I still wanted to create the painting I had envisioned. I needed time to collect myself and rebuild my trust in my abilities.
When I was ready, I returned to it and pushed through the discomfort of working on a painting that wasn't quite there yet.
Finishing it brought both pride and relief. I was proud of the result, but I was equally proud that I had continued, even when the process had become difficult.
Looking back, I'm reminded that not every painting comes together easily. Sometimes, you need to step away, give yourself room to grow, and trust that you can find your way through the difficult stages.
A title we could share
The title came from my husband.
He had witnessed my journey and supported me through the difficult parts. I am incredibly grateful to have had him beside me, and I wanted him to be part of this painting's story, too.
When the painting was finished, I asked him what he felt when he looked at it and what he thought it should be called.
His suggestion came quickly: Breath of Fresh Air.
I liked it immediately. The title captured something about how we both felt when the painting was complete. After a challenging period, there was a sense of relief and a renewed appreciation for the good things around us.
It felt right that the name came from him. The painting already carried memories of my family, and now its title held a feeling we could share.
The stories a painting can hold
One of my favourite things about sharing my work is hearing what other people see in it.
When people have complimented Breath of Fresh Air, some have gone on to tell me stories about their own grandmothers, particularly those who loved planting and growing gladiolus.
I love these conversations. I painted the flowers because of my own memories, but someone else might see them and remember a childhood garden, a family member, or flowers they once grew themselves.
The dramatic lighting might catch someone's attention first, drawing them in to enjoy the flowers themselves. But those familiar connections can give them a reason to look a little longer and share a story of their own.
That's something I hope my paintings can do: invite people to pause, appreciate the beauty in front of them, and perhaps discover a memory of their own.
A painting with a home to return to
There is one more person who has a particularly strong connection to this painting: my husband.
We've come to an arrangement. He gets to keep Breath of Fresh Air in his office, where he spends most of his days, on the condition that it can travel whenever it is accepted into gallery shows and exhibitions.
So far, the painting has travelled across western Canada, and it is now making its way back to him.
Some family members were disappointed that they didn't receive it as a gift. Unfortunately, that's show business, baby!
In all seriousness, I'm happy that this painting has found a home with someone who loves it so much, while still having the opportunity to be seen by others.
When I first picked up that oddly shaped canvas, I couldn't have known all the memories and experiences that would become part of its story. I only knew I wanted to paint gladiolus.
Now, Breath of Fresh Air reminds me of family, of learning to trust myself as an artist, and of the unexpected connections a painting can create.
And when it returns to my husband's office, it will have a place to rest between its travels, ready for whatever comes next.