At 90, Kathy Gillis looks back on a lifetime of art, challenges, and discovery—and the belief that everything she experienced led to this moment. A story of purpose, resilience, and inspiration.
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The Source that Inspires My Art
A Canadian Artist’s Journey
As two Canadian seniors born nearly a century ago, my husband and I share a unique ritual. For over 20 years, we have recited a translated Chinese poem almost daily, as our guiding star. Its final two lines speak directly to my life’s mission:
“For all [that you have gone through] since ancient times,
Was for none other than this time around”.
My name is Kathy Gillis. I was born in 1935 into a farming family in Ayer’s Cliff, Quebec, near the Canada–U.S. border.
My ancestors were United Empire Loyalists who emigrated from Ireland and England to America before the 1776 Revolution. After the war, they moved to Canada.
As an infant, I was adopted by my maternal grandparents because my mother was severely weakened by polio encephalitis and my father was occupied with work. My Protestant family took me to Sunday school regularly.
Then with few playmates, I spent my childhood wandering contentedly through woods and meadows, absorbed in the plants, insects, and animals.
When I was 11, a schoolmate asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.
“An artist,” I replied.
“Don’t you want to get married and have children?” she asked.
“Yes, I suppose so—perhaps two or three.”
It was typical girl talk. But quietly, a thought took root: by 40, I would be done raising children and free to do whatever I truly wanted or needed to do.
I loved drawing. At 12, I entered an art contest and won a complete set of art supplies, including an easel. That moment gave me greater confidence.
People noticed my work. When I was about 14, I was asked to paint the town sign. They brought me a large wooden signboard and paint, and I set to work. Decades later, when we drove into town, the sign was still there: “Ayer’s Cliff, population 500.”
After high school, I moved to Toronto and worked as an artist’s assistant at Simpson’s department store. I also did freelance work while attending night courses to improve my drawing skills.
While living at the YWCA, I met a University of Toronto student named Ross, who invited me to play ping-pong. He was charming, athletic and confident in his game. But I beat him. He came back the next day, and the next, improving each time until he won nearly every match, and eventually, my heart.
We married in 1956; I was 20 and he was 23. We had a son and two daughters.
Life was not always smooth. In my early thirties, a tumor was discovered on my thyroid and was feared to be cancerous. After surgery to remove it along with half of my thyroid, it proved benign. But the operation left me with severe, long-lasting migraines. My doctor prescribed hormone medication for life.
In 1974, I entered the University of Ottawa to study Visual Arts. I was 39, much older than my fellow students. But I was already an accomplished commercial artist.
In 1979, I graduated with honors and began teaching at the Ottawa School of Art while continuing to exhibit my work.
Over the years, I have explored themes that invite viewers to notice what is often overlooked—prehistoric life, dreams, and the energies of the earth. I have built a respected career, with exhibitions, grants, awards, and works held in public collections.
One summer day in 1998, while walking on University of Ottawa’s campus, I noticed a woman handing out pamphlets about Falun Gong. As I glanced through the pages, I immediately became interested and asked for more information about how to learn the practice.
Soon I joined several practitioners in a small park. Falun Gong movements felt familiar—especially Exercise Two. I recognized similar postures from prehistoric artifacts.
I bought a copy of Zhuan Falun, the main text of Falun Gong. When I started reading, the process of unlearning and relearning began. This is no ordinary book, each time I read it, old questions were answered, yet new ones emerged.
After a few weeks, I noticed that no one at our practice site seemed to get sick. They were happy, honest and kind. I thought, “This is the way we are supposed to be.”
A few months later, my doctor found my thyroid levels too high and my pulse was at 120—signs of medication-induced hyperthyroidism. She advised a gradual reduction in dosage, along with other treatments. But I chose to stop the medication altogether, trusting my body’s ability to recover. That was the last time I saw my doctor.
In Zhuan Falun, two concepts were unfamiliar: cultivation and attachment. Gradually, I came to understand that cultivation means correcting one’s thoughts and behavior, while attachment refers to the worldly desires that weigh us down in life. Cultivation, then, is the process of letting go of attachments.
One day in the summer of 1999 at practice site, a woman began sobbing uncontrollably. She told us that the Chinese government had outlawed Falun Gong and launched a campaign to demonize Falun Gong and its founder Master Li Hongzhi.
It soon became clear that we must do something. I visited politicians and government representatives and took part in peaceful appeals at the Chinese embassy.
In 2002, I was invited to join a group of artists in New York to work on an art exhibition. After an eight-hour drive from Ottawa, I arrived at a makeshift studio perched atop a mountain. Despite the primitive conditions, we created a series of paintings centered on Falun Gong. Over the following year, I returned several times, balancing my teaching with work on the project.
My family was supportive. My husband and older daughter also practice Falun Gong, and all family members respect my choice. A year later, we completed about 20 paintings.
Finding a gallery was another challenge. An Ottawa gallery director confided that senior management had refused to exhibit our work for political reasons. In New York, the National Arts Club received bomb threats after our exhibition was announced. Despite these, we successfully presented our work in Washington, D.C., New York, Boston, and Toronto in 2004.
Later, the exhibition was officially named The Art of Zhen Shan Ren and has since toured worldwide until this day.
To speak out against the persecution, my friend Mary and I have practiced Falun Gong next to the Chinese Embassy every Wednesday for over 20 years. Some of my paintings reflect this experience.
In 2002, a Chinese practitioner Liu Chengjun was sentenced to 19 years in prison for his involvement broadcasting programs expose the Party’s lies on state TV. He died of torture after 21 months. His story encouraged me to create “Uncompromising Courage”.
“Manhattan Meditator”, was inspired by a young girl I saw meditating peacefully amid the noise of New York City.
Thanks to Falun Gong, my husband and I continue to lead an active life in our nineties. I enjoyed making new work in my studio. Ross still plays golf.
In addition to our daily exercises and reading, we often recite Master Li’s poem:
Plum Blossoms
In the chaotic world, like pure lotus flowers—
plum blossoms, a hundred million
Cold winds only accentuate their beauty
The interminable snowfall and rain
are the tears of gods,
Who look longingly for the plum blossoms’ return
Never, ever get preoccupied with worldly things
Steel your righteous thoughts
For all [that you have gone through]
since ancient times,
Was for none other than this time around.
This poem—especially its final two lines—has given meaning to my life’s mission.
