* * * YA-A-A-a-a-a-awn * * *

Greatjawsnappinggasps is there anything more tedious than the self indulgent confessions and carrying-ons of someone going through some 'thing'......just like yours truly over this last month. 

You may have noticed those indulgent posts are now removed.....thank the gods. 
And, truly, what did it serve? I think I lost 3/4 of my readership (3 people). 
Ah, such is the price of.........narcissism.
Moving right along, let's talk about some Art, shall we? 
While down in the town last month, I did some Gallery cruising. Be pretty silly not to have....huh. Anywearesofumblingforthingstosayway, what I observed is there is a decided bent to two 'camps', if you will. The 'camp' of traditional, ie: Landscapes, Still Life, and such like. And the 'camp' of Abstract. Now if there is one genre of painting that gets most folks reacting in vast and often strangely adamant ways, it's Abstract Art. They generally feel, unless they LOVE it, that any kindergartener could do as well and they will let you know this in no uncertain terms. Anyone can 'sploodge' a bunch of paint across a canvas! The reality is that good, and I mean GOOD, abstract painting is very very difficult to accomplish. There has to be a decided knowledge of how colour and shape and line work and then to translate that into a cohesive whole. It is pure 'feeling'. And as with all Art, not everyone will understand that 'feeling'. I saw some pretty awesome paintings in those aforementioned Galleries. But the ones I'm carrying around in my head - the ones that really resonated with me and made me wish I could paint like that - were the abstracts. 
Isn't that a turn up for the books. (sorry-that's some wierdy English expression that I just find so great and was dying to use and look I did!)
Being a painter pretty firmly grounded in the realm of realism - albeit in a symbolistic way - I think this draw towards abstract painting intriguing. Perhaps it's the use of saturated colour or shape that pulls me....not sure exactly why. 
Does this mean I will be changing my style? No, don't think so (however- we do know the wisdom of never saying never) I'm getting recognized for what I do so to change the horse in mid stream is most likely not the best direction to take. 
But I might play with it!
There's the thing of being creative : you can mix it up if you want. 
Yay!

The photograph accompanying this post is by Louise Dahl Wolfe and titled "Beauty". 
I'd have called it "Narcissus". 

ps...ah....back in the land of 'dial-up'.....oh, how I've missed the NOTHING ABOUT IT AT ALL! Sheesh.

Oh Say Can You See

 I've come to realize that we share a strange, sometimes inexplicable phenomenon and that is the inability to really see ourselves. Well, maybe "inexplicable" is not quite the right term because if you think for a moment there are so many things that 'put the blinders on' our eyes. Of course , I can only really talk about my own experience and that is one deeply immersed in the waters of being a woman and the spirits know we women are almost schooled from birth to have a really messed up viewpoint about ourselves. However, as I walk about this beautiful city that I'm currently inhabiting - I see all these vastly interesting and hugely intriguing people all around me. But I'll give you dollars to donuts they are pretty much all feeling 'wrong'. (why I'd want to pay you a dollar for a donut escapes me - just like that saying does, but it does roll off the tongue like oil on a hot pan - and here we go again.....) 

Ok, moving right along before the brain can go down another rabbit hole - I think that we all mess up the visuals with so much 'other' our actual true picture gets lost. 

And why am I blithering on about this, well you may ask.

I had this brought home to me last week when I sat down and drew myself. My own face - not my mother's, not my usual 'made-up ones, not some old photograph. Nope, me looking in a mirror. And I was completely taken aback when I saw that I am really quite beautiful. 

You'd think as an artist that I'd be able to 'see' this but I haven't. And it made me think of all the countless times I have looked in a mirror and voiced those demeaning epithets to myself "you old bag; bleah, you look like shit" etc etc etc. How many times have I heard my friends say "Ugh! I hate myself in pictures."

No wonder. 

It has me musing on portrait paintings and the fact the vast amount of them are all pretty much geared to making the subject look swell. Putting aside the reason for doing so may have been you wanted the money for your work so it behooved you to 'tart it up'. Or that the model chosen was already visually pleasing, I'd say what we see just might not be a true picture.  There are very few artists that really give you all the warts - so to speak - Frida Khalo and Van Gogh come to mind - but if you look at contemporary portraiture it pretty much is still those visually 'pretty' visages. And may I add, that, yes, old men are often a subject matter but we seem to be more able to accept the craggy face time has given them so much more than women.

Anyjustputaframearounditway, I'm kinda going all over the map with this, aren't I. I think what I want to say is that I need to try to 'see' better. Let's try to get past those worn out tapes and start realizing what an incredible and vast canvas we are - the colors! the shapes! What a feast for the senses. I know I'm going to view the folks around me differently and try to envision how I'd paint them.......who knows where this will take me......

The Painting is by Jenny Saville and boy oh boy do I LOVE this young woman's work! She's well worth a Google

How fleeting our time upon this Earth.....

Life, as we are so aware, can change in the blink of an eye. For many of us it comes in joyous forms of news or maybe a move somewhere or perhaps a windfall of an unexpected gift.

But along with those good and welcome entities we must be ready for the unwelcome words of the passing of a friend or family member. 
Suddenly it seems the world stops and you are left in a place that is filled with heartbreak. It brings you up short. The world becomes fragile and our life upon it so brief. 
Today I found out a very dear and immeasurably talented friend had passed away yesterday. She was close to my age - that, as well, makes one pause - and I am so stunned by the news. 
We know we will absorb the sorrow and continue on, but right now the light just dimmed. 
Gael, this is for you:

The stars I gaze upon seem different since that day,
While one shines brighter, another fades away,
You light up the winter sky, the moon at your command,
Convinced you didn't mean it, but your soul had different plans.

This is truth calling, makes its way to me,
And this is love falling, falling at our feet.

She was your sister, your neighbour, she was your daughter, your carer.
She was your mother, your sharer, she was your friend, your lover.

The bowing heads of many hold your image in their minds,
The endless search for answers occupy the time,
Gazing at the pictures, with eyes they fail to see
Why in a moment, robbed of reason, you embraced eternity.

   --A song by Capercaillie, the Scottish band.

Tales from the Road - part 1

OLA AMIGOS! 
No, no,  not in a foreign clime but the weather has been super enough to feel like I've arrived in a more southerly location and since that actually is true, well, here we are! Took me 3 hours yesterday to move into my little 'home away from home' and I'm feeling pretty perky about the whole darn thing so far. The BIG news is I went out and purchased a laptop - why, in all that is computer-ishy, did it take me so long to get on board with this little gem of technology? (you realize that's a rhetorical question, right?) Mind you I still keep looking for the darn mouse - and am feeling 'out of touch' when confronted by the simplest things - such as walking back to the store this morning to ask why the screen was just dead - yeah, you got it - we were shown the button up top to push so the laptop turned on. *sigh* Did I mention how so not techy we are? I also forgot the camera cord to hook into this machine so that I can download pics....always something. But, the speed! The ease of transport! The cool stuff I can access now that WI-FI is all around me!  
Anygeekingoutway, I've 'put up' all the paintings I brought with me, (no hooks in the wall so we've "strategically" placed) - really, Art improves EVERYTHING - and there's a jacuzzi tub which just about signals heaven to this old gal. We're close to downtown for all my appointments and truly, within walking distance of all sorts of great things - waterfront, park, funky shops and galleries, cool little neighborhoods etc etc etc. Oh pinch me!  
Yes, I'd move in a heartbeat.
That's 'bout it for now - I'm still in the 'honeymoon' phase with all this. We'll update next week - who knows what'll happen by then.......(oh, cue the dun,dun,dun...)

My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready To Go

For many of us, the start of a journey is filled with excitement and trepidation - you're never quite sure just what lies ahead - and I admittedly fall into this category. First of all I'm just not sure what the heckaroonies I need to bring with me - I mean, I have 9 boxes of 'arty' shit to keep me entertained ( as an aside, this will only work if I can forgo the great evil of cable TV which, if you weren't aware, I do not have in my abode. I don't have any TV reception actually, and only have one to watch movies, specifically animation, my particular addiction - oh, and 'Supernatural') :}
I find myself teetering between wanting to get the show on the road and feeling a tad overwhelmed by what lies ahead and wanting to go back to bed. I keep making lists of 'things to do before you go' and 'things to do when you're there'. 
And isn't that just typical for life, period. We're so busy planning 'what to do' and 'what will happen' we can forget the 'what's going on'. 
I think this can happen when you're an artist too. You get so wrapped up in the 'I'm gonna paint (sculpt,pot,weld,sew, etc) this amazing pic (sculpture, pot, metal,threads) and then the doors will blow open and I'll be discovered-fame-and-fortune' - and don't deny that's what you do 'cause I know how the creative head thinks - yeah, we get so wrapped up in that future thing we forget the journey of just creating is the point. I had a great 'head smack' about this when I was putting together a portfolio of work to bring with me. I've written lots about my particular dubiousness with what I paint because it just so isn't 'west coasty' and that I keep thinking I need to change to fit what everyone thinks I need to paint. Well, I really got a big head shake when I looked at all my paintings displayed in my portfolio and realized - wow! I paint really uniquely and frelling kick-ass! Why would I want to change that? 
So I'm pretty thrilled by what is coming up. Something is really cooking in the old soul and I can't wait to see what happens next. 
I'm also signed up for pottery classes. 

*and I'm getting a new pc when I'm away - thank you jeebus, as my son says. Hopefully I'll be updating from the 'road' if I can figure out how. 
Always something, huh?*

The painting: "Transform" by Flora Bowley. 
. . . . . . . . . . . . exactly.

Presents VS Presence

** I've heard said that English is the hardest language to learn and I'd guess that to be true, especially if it isn't your 'mother' tongue but what I agree with is the propensity in this particular dialect of communication to have words that are either spelled the same but mean different things or sound the same and are spelled differently. Such is the case with the title...I had to go to my trusty falling apart and held together with duct tape dictionary to get it straight. 

But I digress...

Now back to our story:

On Friday the group of dedicated souls of the Pacific Rim Arts Society (PRAS) of which I am the humble (ok roll eyes) leader, went on a field trip. This in itself is worthy of note because in the whole of the 42 years the society has endeavored to bring arts and culture to this wee bit of Canada, that has never happened before. 

Well, it was a resounding success as a group of 8 of the loyally devoted folks that make up the PRAS board convoyed across island to visit a prominent and hugely respected Canadian artist Ken Kirkby. It had been suggested by one of our members to do this as a way to acknowledge Ken and also a great way to mix art and pleasure. The weather was superb, the car resounded with laughter and the visit was just plain old fantastic. We royally dined at the local eatery run by Ken's lady which was chock-a-block full of art from locals. Then we hopped over to Ken's home and studio and spent 2 + hours yakking art and listening to Ken's stories and sitting right on the beach. 

SWEET, as the kids say. 

The highlight of unexpected-things-to-happen was when Ken turned to us all, looked at me and said "So, when are we gonna trade paintings?" 

Well knock me over with a paintbrush Emily Carr!

I stupidly reply "Are you talking to me?" (seriously, I am gifted with the witty response - not)

In my defense I say this because I don't consider my style to appeal to men, certainly not honored men artists painting landscapes of Canada. 

So what you see above is my Ken Kirkby painting. It now resides in my bedroom right where I can look at it when I fall asleep. 

I'm still feeling slightly '... what happened ...' about it.

Next:

I got 'turned on' (oh, puh-lease) to this book by a young friend who travels to Wells for the annual ArtsWells festival. She knew of my past history as part of the early incursion of Hippies up to Wells and wanted me to know there was a book out and she bet I was in it. 

So I ordered it off the Internet site. 

Imagine my delight to get it and have the flood of memories rekindled from the tales within. 

Was I in it?

Well; and here's where I'm going to sound like my ego is the size of the Sistine Chapel; I get 2 little mentions and both without my full name. Eesh. 

I guess what is so disillusioning  about this  is that one of the main characters interviewed in it for their stories was my old boyfriend at the time - the one I built the tree house with, the one who brought me up to Wells actually. Did he ever talk to me about this book or wanting to be involved? Nope. Did he make any allusion to me being special in his life at that time? Nope again.

I feel really ridiculous for letting this bother me! Who cares really - most of the folks who will buy this book will either know me or not and what does it really matter if they do or don't? 

* * *

I am too sensitive for my own good. 

And somewhere down in that murky place I carry around inside of me, lies the little kid who feels left out and not worthy to be included in the sandbox - ah boy. Cue the wah wah wah soundtrack. And bring on the box of cookies with a carrot cake chaser. 

OK - the Ken Kirkby painting came without a title. I call it "Inner Landscape" just because it seems to take me down all sorts of pathways of though while I look at it. Jeez, what a gift!

The Book is available from Harbour Publishing www.harbourpublishing.com

Vision Quest

"What a long strange trip it's been"

...Grateful Dead lyrics

Ah, those words could just about sum up my generation I think. Certainly ones, as I am entering my 6th decade of life and what can be viewed as the 'winter' part of this journey, I am inclined to parrot. Lately I feel that I am on the edge of that 'ah-geez-here-we-go-again' path; you know, the one that portends a transition of change.

Arguably the life of an artist is full of change - vis a vie:  your style, your technique, your medium, your vision.

And bless the Creative Spirit this is so as I believe we would stagnate with the curse of only doing one thing one way. I often wonder if, for those artists that reach the pinnacle of recognition globally in their style, they sometimes wish they could go back to being able to try the any old thing of discovery before they became locked into the particular subject/genre they are recognized for. 

Oh, give me that problem, huh?

Anywhatathingtocomplainaboutway, I am about to embark on a personal 'vision quest' soon. I've booked time away and put myself into some therapeutic discovery classes in order to deal with the remaining vestiges of my addictions and childhood traumas. 

Heavy stuff. 

But I find myself quietly excited to get into this time. To finally face the demons that keep me in fear - the fear of believing I am good enough - the fear of success - the fear of living large. 

My life is safe here in this little piece of paradise- I am well known; I live without having to worry about shelter; I have a great comraderie with all here. 

But, but but but. 

I'm stuck.

 It's obvious the art scene here is very proscribed in being geared towards all-beach-with-an-animal-or-two and, as is most evident, I don't paint like that. And why should I change what I find hugely satisfying and is my own? And it's evident my work sells to folks from away.  

So, off we go to see the wizard, who is actually ourself. 

Who knows what this journey will bring. And isn't that the intoxicating thing about change? Yes, there is a fear but oh, the doors you will open! 

And Life is nothing if it isn't an adventure.

The painting: "Addiction", mixed media with found objects oil on canvas, David Brady.

I've posted lots of pics of artwork here and that would generally mean I have a particular draw to the work but I gotta say, this one is freakin' brilliant. Brilliant!