Did you know that Homer Watson would have never reached the level of success he did without the help and support of some amazing women including his mother, his wife Roxanna and his sister Phoebe. In honour of these women and their contributions, we have brought back our annual Watson’s Women fundraiser! Become one of the many women who have helped keep arts alive at the gallery or donate in honour a woman who has supported you.

As a charitable organization, the bulk of our revenue comes from public art classes and programming. The cancellation of many of our planned programming as a result of COVID-19 has caused considerable financial strain.

Can you help keep Homer’s artistic spirit alive? After all, social isolation would be made much more challenging without books, films, music and art! Join (modern) Watson’s Women by contributing $100 to our fundraiser this year! All donors will be acknowledged on our website and provided a tax receipt (make sure to include your email with your donation). Donations will assist with operating costs during this challenging time.

Milestone Rewards

As an incentive we are adding milestone rewards for everyone who donates.

At $5,000

in donations, all donors can pick up a free Homer Watson poster.

At $8,000

in donations, all donors can pick up a free copy of our book "Landscapes of Homer Watson"

At $10,000

in donations, all donors are invited to participate in a free virtual painting lesson by artist instructor Ralf Wall!


  • Jo-Anne Rankin
  • Mary Anne Melanson
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The Loch Doon area was memorialized in celebrated Scottish poet, Robert Burns piece “Ye banks and braes O’ bonnie Doon”

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu’ o’ care?
Thou’lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o’ departed joys,
Departed, never to return.

Aft hae I rov’d by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o’ its love,
And fondly sae did I o’ mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,
Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause lover stole my rose,
But, ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.

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