Marie Verville has long put her obligations as a mother before her artistic desires. That time is now over. Her son’s old bedroom, now flying on its own, has become her own lair.

“I missed my calling,” says this writer-translator, without regret in her voice. “I’ve always been a jack-of-all-trades. When I was little, I did macrame, drawing or pyrography. Today, I could see myself teaching art. But when I was a teenager, I did not know what these desires to draw or paint could serve me. »

This is how, without knowing where to go, Marie studied special education at CEGEP, followed by a bachelor’s degree in communication at university. Then she entered the marketing department of a financial company, where she worked for a dozen years.

The passion for the visual arts, however, was not very far away. As a dilettante, in her late twenties, the young mother she was at the time took watercolor lessons. But, as it is difficult to reconcile nappies and brushes, she had to resign herself to putting away canvases and boxes of colors for some time.

When her employer decided to close its marketing department without reorienting its employees, Marie found herself taking writing and then translation contracts to make ends meet. One thing leading to another, she became self-employed without ever really feeling like she belonged.

“Imposter syndrome, I’ve had it all my life. When you leave university in communication, you learned a lot of things without being good at anything. I’ve carved out a niche for myself in translation because I’m good at English, but I don’t have certification or certification or anything,” she says.

Her sense of accomplishment, she obtains it today by painting magnificent canvases in the pretty art studio that she has set up in her son’s former bedroom, with the blessing of her husband.

“Paul is my biggest fan and my agent,” the artist says, laughing.

An air of bazaar reigns in the room where Marie has placed her easel, near a window, in a corner. Beautiful paintings are hung on the picture rails that go around the workshop. Artist’s tools and materials of all kinds lie here and there, filling the slice and the cutting table. Two large cabinets look like a messy display at Omer DeSerres, his favorite store.

“It’s a total mess,” Marie admits with a good deal of self-mockery. My boyfriend, who loves order and tidiness above all else, is not allowed to come and clean here. This is my piece just to me. »

This workshop quickly became an important part of Marie’s identity. “When I settle here, I surrender. I come back to who I am, because now I have time. This is me, this is my lair. I consider myself lucky to have this space. »

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