Wall Things Art & The Most Unexpectedly Beautiful Day in Courtenay

July12 2025

It’s funny how sometimes the best days start out with no plan at all. I woke up on July 12th without any real agenda—just a great night’s sleep and the kind of morning where the clouds are still deciding whether they want to stay or leave. I had no clue what I’d be walking into, and yet, it turned into one of those days that root deep into your soul and remind you why art, community, queerness, and creativity matter so damn much.

After my morning coffee, I started rendering photos I had taken for the Wall Things Art project—an incredible art collective happening in Courtenay from July 5th to 11th. This day marked the final celebration: the unveiling. But I had no idea what was in store. Let me just say: it turned out to be nothing short of a love letter to art, queerness, and the wild heart of this town.

Island Grown, Heart Shown

We began our day at the Farmers Market, a magical little space that feels like a cross between an edible dream and a living collage of Vancouver Island’s best souls. We stocked up for a Foundry breakfast the next morning—everything local, everything made with heart. From dill to mustard (shout out to The Mustard Lady, whose spirit alone makes you want to throw your money at every jar they makes), to mushrooms from Surfside and sprouts from Rad Farms—each vendor was an artist in their own right.

There’s something sacred about sharing food that comes from your own island—it’s like the land and the people are cooking you breakfast.

Art & Awakening

After that, we dipped into a local thrift store for a sun visor upgrade mission (no luck), and made our way downtown to the art gallery. I didn’t expect to have my mind cracked open by it, but it was one of those eye-opening moments—learning things about institutions and the art world that I never knew. Even more precious was watching my daughter begin to connect to the world through new eyes. Art does that. It teaches without a lesson plan.

And just like the day, everything kept evolving. Walking down Gladstone, we stumbled upon more live art happening. Muralists brushing color into the very bones of the town—walls, sea cans, fences. It turns out Wall Things Art was still going, and suddenly we weren’t just viewers anymore—we became part of it.

We painted. We sweat. We laughed. We existed together. It was raw and beautiful. Even the little details—the woman beside me burning her feet like standing on the hot pavement but in her sadness, the water we forgot to bring, the kindness passed in aloe vera advice—it all belonged. It was messy and hot and real.

We made our way back to the car (two and a half blocks in the blazing sun, because we were too artsy to plan), but even that felt like part of the journey. We stopped by the country market to grab icy-colddrinks, and believe me, after hours of painting in the heat, they tasted like nectar from the gods.

Royston, Reflection, and Queer Joy

From Courtenay, we headed to Royston Beach for a sunset swim and cool down. The ocean was, hilariously, pee-warm—so much for the cool down—but it still reset something in us. I painted my nails while my daughter swam, preparing myself for the Wall Things Art afterparty at Gladstone Brewery. I dropped her off and it gave myself a moment to transform from the sweaty day of doing  art. Hair fluffed, heart full.

Halfway to Gladstone’s brewery,, I saw some friends and instantly felt the wardrobe wasn’t giving what it needed to give. That’s how you know you’re queer: instinct takes over, and honey, we pivot. I hit the thrift store at 8:30 PM like a style tornado and walked out in new clothes (minus the top, because obviously I kept the shirt with my photography business logo—I’m always reppin’ The Hikers Photography).

I made it just in time.

The Afterparty: A Night for the Artists

Gladstone was alive. I was greeted by some of my favorite souls—JoJo, Landon, the ever-glowing pottery goddess and her sweet other half. People from the queer community, artists, allies, creators. It was more than a party—it was a coming-together of kindred spirits who believe in the power of painting, of creating, of unapologetically showing up.

And damn, did they show up.

There was a full charcuterie spread (and yes, The Mustard Lady once again blessed us with there magic), DJs spinning beats (who also happened to be two of the muralists!), and a reveal of the collaborative mural that had been painted in sections and only unveiled as one that night. Goosebumps. Absolute goosebumps.

I took a friend out back  later on and  show off the fence mural I had helped paint. Later, I found myself standing in front of my daughter Elizabeth’s painting. The dark lighting transformed it—what was once her interpretation of the sun became this dreamlike clown figure, something playful and strange and beautiful. She’s going to be a brilliant artist. I can feel it in my bones. That’s my queen elizabeth.

Queer Art & Penis Mushrooms (Yes, You Read That Right)

Oh, and let’s not forget the penis art session. Yes, it happened. Queer joy, baby! We were transforming the ridiculous into the remarkable. Landon drew the most majestic phallic mushroom I’ve ever seen—glistening, wild, earthy, and somehow sacred. It was funny, brilliant, and such a damn good metaphor for this community: raw, growing, always pushing through the cracks toward light.

We Don’t Hide. We Rise.

What makes this town special isn’t just the art—it’s the artists. It’s the way we come together. We don’t stay inside. We don’t isolate. We show up. We grab brushes, spray cans, cameras, and glitter and we turn alleyways into galaxies, fences into poetry, sweat into paint. We become the town. We show our youth, our queerness, our roots, our joy, our pain, and we pour it into the concrete walls until they shine.

Tonight was proof that community can be radical. That art is activism. That queerness and all things in between are  beauty. That mustard can be sacred. And that when we choose to show up for each other, something amazing happens.

So as I write this past midnight,  before I Yes, driving home with music playing and paint still on my arms, I’m buzzing with love for this place and its people. This town—this little island town—has magic. It’s tucked behind fences, hiding in murals, swimming in the ocean, waiting to be found by anyone bold enough to look.

🎤💭 Wanna Chime In?

Were you there?

Have you been to see?

Do you have a favourite artist from the  sea can of art ect?

Did something catch your soul and hold it for a moment?

Drop a comment. Tell me what moved you.

Or maybe just say hi — because I think this little blog might turn into something bigger.

Until next time, blog readers, keep creating. Keep showing up. And remember: you matter. Every brushstroke, every laugh, every drop of sweat glistening in the sun is proof that we are here—and we are beautiful.

Peace out,

Olivia – from The Hikers photography With a Camera & a Big Queer Heart