The Lord Strathcona Wreck: From War to Reef to Work of Art

 

two paintings depicting the colourful corals on the bridge of the Lord Strathcona wreck
Left: "After the Storm", Right: "What Remains, Becomes" 
My paintings of the bridge on the Lord Strathcona wreck in Newfoundland



I keep coming back to the wrecks off the coast of Bell Island, Newfoundland—especially the Lord Strathcona. These sunken ships were torpedoed by German U-boats during World War II, part of a chapter in Canadian history that not many people talk about. Today, they’ve become something else entirely.

The bridge of the Strathcona, once part of a working naval ship that carried iron ore from the Bell Island mine to the U.K. forces in Europe, is now covered in soft coral and buzzing with marine life. After several dive trips there, it’s become one of those places I can’t stop thinking about. That transformation—from wartime machinery to living reef—sparked the creation of two pieces: After the Storm and What Remains, Becomes.

There’s something quietly powerful about watching nature take over—gently, gradually—turning something built for war into something peaceful. The Strathcona lies just offshore, but underwater, it feels like a different world. At that depth, colours fade away. Everything looks muted until you turn on a light and suddenly it’s alive with pinks, oranges, purples, and white. Fish dart between beams. Bubbles rise through still water. The bridge, once a place of command, now feels almost like a cathedral.

“After the Storm”
This painting captures one of those moments—floating near the bridge of the Strathcona, now draped in soft coral and home to a resident frog fish. A diver hangs in the water, flashlight in hand, with bubbles curling toward the surface. The wreck, though torpedoed, still stands.

After the Storm isn’t about a literal storm—it’s about what comes after conflict. It’s a quiet reflection on how time and nature can reshape a place, turning something rooted in destruction into something full of life and movement. I keep coming back to these kinds of scenes because they remind me that even in the aftermath, there’s beauty. There’s resilience.

“What Remains, Becomes”
This one takes us inside the bridge. I painted it from a different angle—right from the heart of the wreck. Two divers are exploring, beams of light bouncing off the structure. Coral and anemones have claimed every surface.

While After the Storm looks at the wreck from the outside, What Remains, Becomes brings you in. It’s about stepping inside history, into a space that’s been softened by time and turned into something entirely new. You can still see the shape of the ship, but it’s no longer just metal and memory—it’s become a living reef.

I almost called this blog post The Strathcona’s Living Bridge because that’s how it feels. A passage between past and present. Between destruction and growth. Both of these paintings are rooted in that experience and that feeling. They’re not meant to be exact visual records. They’re impressions—what it feels like to be down there in the quiet, with only the sound of your breath and the flick of a fin.

I didn’t paint these to capture history exactly. I painted them to explore what it feels like when something broken is slowly taken over by beauty. That theme keeps showing up in my work, and honestly, I think it always will. The wrecks off Bell Island hold so much more than rusted steel. They hold stories, change, and a kind of calm resilience that only the ocean can bring to light.

 

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