When we lived in Richmond in the early 1970's, Ken Kirkby was our neighbour. His wife was lovely and I remember when she gave birth to her son. After her son was born, Ken left and they divorced. He painted in his living room. His art was incredible. He was a quiet man.
The home was sold and his wife said he moved up north. He was also a fly fisherman and Cec met him a few years after he moved on Peterhope Lake. They were both flyfishing! I've followed his artwork since we knew him. I was sorry to hear he passed away. I thought you would be interested in this Canadian artist!
Ken Kirkby entered the world on September 1, 1940, in the middle of an air raid over London during the Second World War. He later joked that this explosive arrival foreshadowed the intensity and determination he would bring to his art.
After the war, his family moved to Parede, Portugal, a seaside village where the Atlantic crashed against craggy cliffs. It was here that Kirkby’s artistic instincts took hold. He began drawing obsessively, absorbing the textures of the sea, the light, and the stories of the people around him. At just 16, he held his first exhibition in Lisbon—an immediate sellout that hinted at the career to come.
By the late 1950s, Portugal was tightening under dictatorship. On his 18th birthday, Kirkby made a bold decision: he brought his family to Canada, a country he had dreamed about thanks to stories from a whaler mentor who spoke of icebergs, Inuit hunters, and the northern lights. He arrived in Vancouver on September 2, 1958, ready to reinvent his life.
What followed was extraordinary. For five years, Kirkby walked, paddled, and sledded across the Arctic—from Coppermine to Baffin Island. He lived with Inuit communities, absorbing their stories, humour, and resilience. He encountered inuksuit—stone figures that had guided Inuit travellers for thousands of years—and became fascinated by their quiet authority.
These years changed him forever. He witnessed firsthand the challenges faced by Inuit communities and made a promise to an Inuk grandmother: he would find a way to raise awareness in the South about the struggles of the North.
Kirkby’s early Canadian success came in the late 1960s with paintings of Western landscapes. But his heart belonged to the Arctic, and he began painting inuksuit—long before the symbol became widely recognized in Canadian culture. At first, galleries weren’t interested. But Kirkby persisted, convinced that these stone figures could speak to Canadians about the land and the people who shaped it.
His life’s most ambitious project was Isumataq, a monumental Arctic landscape measuring 12 feet high and 152 feet long. The title means “an object in the presence of which wisdom might reveal itself.” It took decades to complete and stands as one of the largest oil paintings in Canadian history.
Eventually, Kirkby settled on Vancouver Island, fulfilling a dream sparked by early fishing trips along Nile Creek. He painted daily—often for long hours—and became known not only as a painter but as a storyteller, environmental advocate, and master fly fisherman.
He married fellow artist Nana Cook in 2017. They both wore chest waders and exchanged their vows standing in the waters of Tunkwa Lake. She was also a fly fisher and together they created a shared artistic life on the coast, producing books and exhibitions that celebrated the landscapes they loved.
Ken Kirkby continued painting with remarkable energy well into his eighties. He passed away peacefully on June 20, 2023, at his home on Vancouver Island, surrounded by family. He was 82.
