It's October! The leaves are turning yellow red and orange...the days are getting shorter. Makes me think of Linus in the pumpkin patch. Autumn is a lovely season, but it's a harbinger of what's to come: WINTER. I'm getting a bit anxious about the cottage as the weather is going to get colder and we have no heat over there - which is very bad for the piano.
The winter cold on the Gulf Islands feels different than on the mainland; it is damp and bone-chilling. Our cottage is already over-shadowed by towering pines so I can only imagine how uncomfortable it will be if we don't get it finished soon. It reminds me of a book I read awhile back written by a fellow who lives on Mayne Island...
Grant Buday arrived in September:
"Everywhere we looked we saw sunburnt fields, balmy shores, boats bobbing picturesquely in the bays...October passed. And then, like a steel door slamming down, November arrived."
He wasn't prepared for the winter nightfall - it is darkness that you don't see living in the city. There are no street lights, no infrastructure to lighten the sky overhead. It's a saturated, pitch blackness that is hard to describe if you haven't experienced it. He writes that it felt "positively medieval."
And then the rain started:
"It roared down with such a vengeance that the trees sagged defeated under its punishment."
This is a very entertaining read. It's only 76 pages long and I was so disappointed when it ended.
One evening in the summer I went for a walk with two of my kids and the dog. The sun went down and suddenly we were having difficulty making out where we were. Our white t-shirts were glowing in the faltering light and very soon we literally couldn't see each other. It was exhilerating and you could feel all of your senses going into high alert. The snap of a branch indicated a deer close-by; the rustling of trees could have meant a psycho axe murderer was following us. Soon, we saw the head lights of Lorenzo's truck coming down the road - he was worried about us. I thought about that when I read this book - I'll bring a flashlight next time.
* * * * *
When I was a kid, I would stare at the Aboriginal art work that adorned the walls of my aunt's cottage, and I found it frightening. I was unable to understand why she liked it because children cannot process abstraction or symbolism. As an adult, I have to come to really appreciate it. A few years ago, Lorenzo and I wandered into the Indigena Art Gallery in Granville Island and saw a piece of art work that we knew we had to own. It was done by a Metis artist named Michael Robinson, who died a few months after we made our purchase. It is called "The Poet and The Song."
He would trace his drawing onto copper plate and make an etching, cover the picture with ground rosin, and then the copper plate is heated. It is a very time-consuming process, but the result is very unique and unlike anything I had seen before.
What we both found mesmerizing was the contrast between life above and below the water line; above, there is movement, it is busy and noisy - and human beings are visible. Below, it feels eerily silent and still. The turtle is watching the people in the canoe - and you wonder what she's thinking. Micheal Robinson had a deep concern for the environment, so it's hard to know if his art is pessimistic or hopeful. Actually, it isn't hard to know...I sense he felt a real despair. To me, his art is incredibly haunting and beautiful and I would like to acquire a few more of his works. We have this on the wall in our living room and I never tire of looking at it. Here is a sampling of his talent.
So much of his art depicts human contact with nature, or first European contact with the Aboriginal. You feel a sense of disruption - that something is being violated.
If you haven't been to the Indigena Art Gallery, you are missing out on a real treat for the eyes. (if you're passionate about art, that is) Here are two carvings that I just love - I'll have to save up for these...
I am ashamed to admit that I have yet to visit the Bill Reid gallery, but it's on my list of things to do. What a genius he was...
It seems there was hardly a medium in which Bill Reid did not excel - sculpture, carving, jewelry making, painting... what an astonishing talent.
* * * *
Well, my twins are fourteen years-old. I can't believe it. They had a nice birthday, but it was different from years previous. As soon as dinner was over they took off with their friends and didn't even stick around to have the cake. We ended up eating it the next day, which was a first. I was a bit annoyed about that, but what can you do? Oh, there is something good to report about the cottage: we may have found a painter who actually lives on the island. She is going to meet Lorenzo on Friday and hopefully she's more qualified than the previous guy we hired. Remember "Dud"?
Ciao for now...
Twin Love
I too fell in love with Michael Robinson's images just a few days ago. I find his work deeply touching. Thank you for sharing your story about purchasing his work.
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