Veronica Knox lived in the Findhorn Community of Scotland and turned an abandoned Scottish church near Loch Ness into an art gallery with painted ‘floorals’.
She writes surreal fiction: ART HISTORY DELIVERED IN GHOST STORIES under the name V KNOX.
She loves highly-visual, multi-layered stories that reconcile historical facts with imaginative fiction… and deliver big surprises. She explores the creative inner worlds of autistic savants and master artists, and in one case, the unknown child in the Titanic cemetery. Knox explores the discrepancies between reality and lucid dreams, fishes the depths of the subconscious, the afterlife, and reincarnation, the anomalies of parallel lives and dimensions, and the classic psyche of ‘the ghostly lover’. She writes time-slip situations that defy the logic she firmly believes in.
Studying for a Fine Arts degree from the University of Alberta led her to develop an imaginative take on art history that led to other untapped avenues for stories.
Inanimate objects are rarely bereft of life? Paintings tell her juicy secrets.
Italian Renaissance paintings captivate her. Objects in a museum captivate her. A pair of baby shoes labeled ‘from the Titanic’ or painted portraits are frozen moments – snapshots of what was and more importantly, WHO was. Knox finds a wealth of stories, hidden in plain sight.
WHAT IF two children aboard the Titanic were meant to marry? What if a master painting was attributed to the wrong artist? What if the ‘Mona Lisa’ was Leonardo da Vinci’s kid sister? Renaissance paintings had to be ‘signed’ in covert ways. Who left their definitive ‘I was here’ imprints in code?
Knox loves words, so she was particularly delighted to learn that she is a serious pluviophile – a lover of rain. She proudly attaches this attribute to her profile. It makes perfect sense of an idiosyncrasy of hers, that although she continues to amass a collection of extremely cool eclectic umbrellas, she prefers to get wet in the rain. However, as a great part of the joy of rain is the sound it makes (and for which there is no greater pleasure than walking under a fabric dome) to receive its full sensory experience she has one umbrella she employs after she gets wet. It is emblazoned with the face of the ‘Mona Lisa’.
Veronica remains intent on listening to the ethereal echoes from objects in museums and the voices of the Italian Renaissance – the artists as well as their anonymous subjects and companions. She grants them second chances to air their grievances, tell their stories, and together they set the dreariest history books on fire.