How I Designed a Black-Eyed Susan Coin for the Royal Canadian Mint

I stared at the Royal Canadian Mint email in disbelief. There is no way.

As a Canadian flower artist based in Kelowna, BC, known for my large-scale acrylic flower paintings, I had spent years building a local reputation. However, I had never imagined a national commission — let alone two. But that is exactly what was unfolding in front of me.

Four months earlier, I had received an unexpected email from Canada Post suggesting that my acrylic on canvas flower paintings would be perfect for a pair of postage stamps. It had seemed too good to be true — but it would turn out to be real. Though I was a contemporary Canadian artist known locally for my large-scale acrylic flower paintings, I had never expected a Government of Canada agency from the opposite side of the country to seek me out. How could this be real?

After ignoring that first email for two days, my husband had suggested I check the return address, and sure enough, it had been from an official Canada Post government email address. That opportunity proceeded to keep me in my art studio for weeks, painting and designing the stamps for their 2015 Flower Series — and I had just submitted my final artwork ahead of schedule, one day before this new email arrived in my inbox.

Another national commission? The timing felt impossible.

This time, I checked the return address right away. It was official. As I sat frozen in that moment, trying to process what I was seeing, my phone rang and startled me. By chance, it was the stamp manager from Canada Post. I didn't hesitate to ask what was on my mind.

"Did you happen to share my name with the Royal Canadian Mint?" I asked.

"No, not at all," he answered. "We never share our artists' names."

A Rare Double Opportunity for a Canadian Artist

The timing of this new email seemed uncanny. It had arrived one day after I had submitted my stamp designs ahead of schedule and only months after that first unexpected email from Canada Post. With the Mint's early June deadline, it was only weeks until two separate government selection committees would decide my fate as an artist. Would my work be chosen for a pair of Canada Post stamps, a Royal Canadian Mint coin — or both? Or neither?

When I contacted the Mint, the coin manager described the project as part of the Royal Canadian Mint's "Dew Drop" series — the sixth and final coin in a collection of fine silver $20 collector coins celebrating Canada's native wildflowers. Each piece in the series was enhanced with embedded Swarovski® crystals to represent morning dew, making them highly sought-after limited edition silver coins among collectors of Canadian art and numismatics alike.

I recognized the uniqueness of this opportunity. I would need to translate my approach to painting — light, form, and close-up observation of flowers — into an entirely different medium, one where every detail had to work at a much smaller scale and within the Mint's precise engraving process.

When the manager said the subject would be the Black-Eyed Susan flower, I felt a sense of relief. Though I had never painted one before, I had them growing in my garden and loved their bright, cheerful blossoms.

Inside the Royal Canadian Mint Coin Design Process

Once I agreed to submit a design, the Royal Canadian Mint sent me an extensive brief outlining their requirements. What stood out most was the emphasis on originality. Every element had to be my own — carefully documented and supported.

Coins are permanent. They represent not only the artist, but the Royal Canadian Mint and Canada itself. The responsibility was clear.

I learned that once I was ready to submit my design, I would also be required to include a detailed design package — one comprised of my artist biography, an explanation of my process, and a step-by-step record of how the design developed, from initial inspiration through to the final concept. I was to leave nothing out.

Painting a Black-Eyed Susan Without a Reference: My Biggest Challenge

My acrylic flower painting process had always involved working from life — handling the flower and photographing it myself. I had never painted from someone else's photograph or from internet images, and I wasn't about to start now. Or at least that's what I thought, until I realized I had a problem.

The Black-Eyed Susans in my garden weren't yet in bloom. I had forgotten that they're late summer flowers. Hoping for a solution, I visited local garden centres, but none had plants in bloom. I had no choice but to turn to reference images online and begin constructing my own interpretation.

This was a challenge. My ability to capture light, form, and movement in my acrylic flower paintings stems from close observation and years of working with my own macro photography. Without that, the process felt unfamiliar and forced. But I pushed forward over the next week, determined to give myself the best chance possible of earning that commission. I gathered reference material, created sketches, and documented every step for the submission.

Choosing the Right Black-Eyed Susan: Over 25 Species, One Painting

There are over twenty-five species of Black-Eyed Susans, in dozens of varieties. While the Mint had provided me with the type of flower, they had not specified variety, colour, shape, or whether I should include leaves, buds, or multiple flowers. Those decisions were all up to me.

Black-Eyed Susans have anywhere from 6 to 20 petals that are either flat, layered, or drooping, ranging in colour from bright yellow to orange to red and even bi-coloured. Their centres can be red, green, black, or brown, and the leaves come in a variety of shapes — some smooth and some serrated.

I did eventually decide on an image, then started a painting.

Stepping back from the canvas one day, I took a long, hard look at my painting and sighed. It's not good enough. All I wanted to do in that moment was to pretend the painting didn't exist. But as part of the process of working toward my final design — and having signed that agreement — I had no choice but to include it in my proposal.

From a Painting to a Royal Canadian Mint Coin

After abandoning that first painting, I spent more time intently studying flower images online, hoping for inspiration. However, it turned out the inspiration didn't come from online, but rather from a phone call. One of the local garden centres called to say they had received a shipment of blooming Black-Eyed Susan flowers. I hopped up and ran around my art studio with an elated burst of energy. What a stroke of luck! What timing! My design proposal needed to be sent to the Mint in just over a week.

During that final week, I worked by phone and email with the Royal Canadian Mint's phytologist — a professional plant expert — to verify that every petal, leaf, and stem in my Black-Eyed Susan painting was anatomically correct according to the species I had chosen: the quintessential Black-Eyed Susan — yellow, with drooping petals, a black centre, and pollen detailing. For a flower artist accustomed to painting on my own terms — allowing the flower to lead the way — this level of botanical specificity was both daunting and enchanting.

Mocking Up the Coin

Once I completed my second painting, I turned to my digital art skills to mock up the coin. The Mint had provided me with the coin template, and my task was to show the placement of my design, along with the proposed position of the three gems on the petals, and my initials, which I discreetly tucked beside the stem at the bottom of the coin. Then I hit that send button and waited.

Waiting for the News — and Getting It Twice

By the time the email arrived from the Royal Canadian Mint to announce the selection committee's decision, I had already known for two days that I had been chosen for the postage stamps. I was standing in the art gallery that represented me at the time, discussing the Canada Post stamp commission with the gallery owner, who was also my mentor. (I had received permission from Canada Post to share my news with him.) When my phone dinged in my pocket, my eyes widened, and I said, "That might be the Mint."

"Open it and find out!" he said. With my heart thumping loudly and my hand shaking, I clicked the email. When I saw that the first word was Congratulations, I gasped.

"You got it, too? Unbelievable!" the gallery owner said and rushed over to give me a hug.

"Oh, my goodness, I got it. I can't believe it!"

I would have two national commissions released the following year — a pair of stamps in February and a Royal Canadian Mint collector coin in May — with my original flower paintings on them. How is this my life?

After reading the rest of the email, I discovered that the only change the Royal Canadian Mint would make to my design — besides reducing the pollen to an engravable size and amount — was to enlarge my initials and place them in a more prominent spot "because you deserve the recognition."

If this story has resonated with you, I'd love for you to explore my original acrylic flower paintings in my gallery, or to find out about bringing a painting into your own home through my commissions page. You can read more about the coin — including a serendipitous story involving my daughter — in my book, Lessons Learned (From the Short Stories of My Life), and more about my background on my biography page. If you haven't yet read about the Canada Post stamp opportunity that came just before this one, you can find that story here.