Skip to content
Join our Newsletter

Inspired by the mountains — Chili finds his niche

"It is better by noble boldness to run the risk of being subject to half the evils we anticipate than to remain in cowardly listlessness for fear of what might happen ." - Herodotus He's an artist. A filmmaker. A deejay. A backcountry guide even.
opinion_altastates1

"It is better by noble boldness to run the risk of being subject to half the evils we anticipate than to remain in cowardly listlessness for fear of what might happen."

- Herodotus

He's an artist. A filmmaker. A deejay. A backcountry guide even. His paintings channel the Group of Seven and the Grateful Dead — with just a sprinkle of Robert Crumb to keep them edgy. His films range from the bizarrely horrific to the outrageously hilarious. And there's always a note of quiet absurdity to his work. Humour, fun — lightheartedness — this is what defines him. And yet, he's got the kind of work ethic rarely seen in these parts. The guy is tireless. Busier than the energizer bunny. Never a dull moment, you know.

In short, Chili Thom is his own man. He's been voted Whistler's favorite artist for nine straight years. And some of the biggest collectors in the Lower Mainland now boast of having a "Chili" on their living room wall. I mean, this guy is as hot as it gets!

But don't tell him that. Since he arrived on these shores in 1995 — and blundered into a serving job at the iconic Sushi Village — Chili Thom has worked his tail off to set himself up as a bona fide creative force in this valley. He's made sacrifices. Built connections. Launched projects. And he's never let himself be sucked in by defeatism. Still, he insists that for him, it's all about leaving the world a better place than what it was when Chili first arrived here.

I know. I know. That kind of innocence doesn't play well in hip Whistler. I mean, c'mon. Is anybody really that naïve anymore?

But talk to the man for a few minutes, and it becomes amply clear that this guy has a very different set of principles. And he's not afraid to challenge the rest of us on our priorities. "If we all did one little thing for somebody else," says Chili, "just one little thing, can you imagine the kind of positive change we could make happen around here?"

He sighs deeply. "I love my friends," says the Squamish resident. "I love my family more than anything. But I also believe I have a responsibility to this planet. You know? We're all connected. All part of the puzzle. It's up to each one of us to act responsibly. That's why I try to lead by example — it's on all our shoulders to make positive change."

Indeed. And yet, were those words coming from the mouth of anyone else, I would take them with a sizeable grain of salt. But Chili walks his talk. Everything he does — the many different projects he's involved with — reflects that philosophy of engagement. There is not one hypocritical bone in the man's body.

And that, my friends, is so refreshing. But I'm getting carried away with my own words again. After all, this story is about Chili. Speaking of which, have you ever attended a party he's organized? Talk about high energy. Talk about good times. A Chili Thom party rocks. And that too is totally planned.

"Go the extra miles," he says of his party-organizing philosophy. "Do whatever it takes to show people what can happen when you put positive energy into an event."

He laughs. Keeps talking. "If you have an idea — go with it! If people need help with their ideas, reach out and help them too." He stops speaking. Smiles. Shrugs. "Make the best of every day," he says simply. "Don't waste time! Give the people you love lots of love back."

See what I mean? "Positive" is a word that springs up time and again in conversations with Chili. But it's not the only one. "Creative" is another word he likes a lot. "When you're being creative," he says, "it gives you a real sense of purpose. It's like you're not just going through the motions. Or slipping through, letting everything slide. Instead, you're actually engaged with life! But that doesn't mean it's easy." He sighs. Frowns. "In fact, it's a very exacting way to live..."

But his smile returns quickly. "My goal is to lead my life like a work of art," he explains. "You see, everything that happens to you is part of you. As an artist, your job is to transform all that 'stuff' into something that's meaningful for others. It's storytelling on all sorts of levels."

That's why, he says, he can't limit himself to just one artistic pursuit. "Painting, sports, music — I can't just do one thing. Each activity builds on the other." But it goes even further than that. "Painting, for example, is very introverted," he explains. "And I can only handle so much of that. I need action! That's why music and deejay'ing works so well for me. As a deejay, you're at the other extreme. It's a total public performance."

And sport? "If I'm stressed — if I have too much going on — just going outside for a run can totally change my outlook on the day. You know, it's really easy to do nothing and let things go. But once you've made the commitment — once you're outside and connected to the mountains — well, the payoff is huge."

It was his love of the outdoors, in fact, that finally set him on his way as an artist. "I was a leadership guide and summer camp counsellor for many years," he recounts. "And I spent a lot of time in the out-of-doors — hiking, climbing, sea-kayaking. You know, that kind of thing. And it really started working on me. I mean, when you've spent six straight days in the mountains, watching the sun rise in the morning and set in the evening, well, you just can't ignore the beauty of it all. So I started taking photos of all these beautiful places I travelled through — and then painting those scenes when I got home." He pauses. Chuckles quietly. "It was really that simple. Amazing to see where that's gotten me..."

There's a lot of movement in Chili's work. It's kinetic. Active. Almost Van Goghian in its artistic vigor. Whether it's a curling wave or a lonely sunset, a grove of snow-kissed fir or a hallucinogenic riverbed scene, his paintings virtually shimmer with energy. You want to be there, in that snow, or riding that wave. His images haunt you, call out to you, demand that you look at the world in a different way.

It's Chili's world. A world alive with possibilities. Dreams. Visions. But it's not one that's easy to attain. Or master.

"Yeah, I made a few sacrifices along the way," he says with a near straight face.

Like? "Well, there was that stretch of winter where I was taking guide courses in Vancouver and living in my Honda Civic in the Whistler parking lot. I think I managed 18 days in a row during one stretch. You know, getting up in the morning, skiing till noon, working the lunch shift at Sushi Village, then going back out on the mountain for the afternoon before returning to the restaurant and serving food till closing time..."

He laughs. "I mean, there were at least 20 other car-livers in the parking lot that winter. We had our own little community and everything."

Maybe that's why he's been so incensed about the pay-parking situation in this town of late. "It's the final straw for me," he says. "Now you can't park anywhere! It's totally killed the spontaneity here." He shakes his head in derision. "It's not what ski towns are suppose to be."

But it's only the tip of the iceberg. "When I first moved here," he says, "this was a ski bum's town. Skiing — riding, playing on the mountain — that's what this place was all about. And it attracted all sorts of interesting characters." He stops. Sighs sadly. "Systematically, the powers-that-be in this town took everything that was cool about Whistler and marketed the spirit right out of it. And they killed it. Now, it's nothing more than an adult Disneyworld." He laughs. "Even if it's still a really cool Disneyworld."

And the situation oozes irony. "Whistler's been made to be so politically correct, so family-oriented. But it doesn't speak to the realities of this place! The people we should be attracting to Whistler — the tribe of folk you call the 'Snoweaters' — can't even afford to come here anymore. We've changed so much! We've gotten so greedy in this valley — so money-focused — that we've forgotten what got us here in the first place."

The disconnect, he says, is tragic. "Whistler has become a money-making machine. But the machine is broken now. So what are we going to do to fix it?"

It's a rhetorical question. And he knows it. But it comes from a very good place. I mean, you couldn't ask for a better ambassador than Chili Thom. He's honest, straight, always looking for the good in people. But he is deeply concerned about his adoptive home. "Whistler's physical plant is awesome," he says. "It will always be awesome. And people will keep coming." He smiles. "After all," he adds, "rad shit advertises itself. But in the meantime we have to look into our hearts and figure out what this place really stands for."

He sighs one last time. "I think we need to pull the mask off," he says. "And really look at who we are. I think it's the only way we're going to find ourselves again."