Remembering Nelson Ball

Today would have (should have) been the day poet and publisher Nelson Ball turned 84. Sadly, he died in 2019. 

On Sunday, I joined with other writers in honouring poets no longer on earth in an event that takes place on a bi-monthly basis, the Dead Poets Reading Series. It was my distinct pleasure to be the one to celebrate Nelson. 

The little pile of books in the photo above were the ones I read from. What a joy to be able to share some of his poems with an audience who seemed eager to listen. 

The one on top, In This Thin Rain (apt for this quietly raining day here in BC) accounts for the happenstance of my meeting him. I wrote a review of it for a now-defunct online magazine and somehow Nelson tracked me down so he could say thank you. Not an experience a reviewer often has!

As I noted in my presentation, Nelson's wife Barbara Caruso was hugely important to him. An abstract artist who adored colour, she clearly influenced a great deal of his writing. The poems he dedicated to her were always filled with visual imagery and a lot of colour. I did my best to read a range of his work, poems that always seemed to be the result of close observation, both visually and sound-based. 

I closed with a poem that seemed appropriate for an ending to such a joyous presentation. Here, in its entirety (from a collection with the hopeful-sounding title, Almost Spring) is a poem called "Infinity" -- a little bit philosophical, I suppose. Somthing to think about...

There is 

no infinity--

 

only large numbers

 

growing

larger 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A quiet art

When I was little, I used to love going into my gramma's workroom--at least that's how I thought of it. I have no idea what she called that room, but it was a magical place to me. It was where she made quilts. 

There was a frame she used to build them on, rolling the edges as she sewed--always by hand--the same way I liked to sew the doll clothes I made. Must have been something in our genes.

Yesterday I attended a quilters' exhibit, and as you might guess from the photo above, I wasn't the only one amazed by what I saw. If you click on the photo you might be able to tell that the images on the white background are bits of applique. It's an art that confounds me; I can't imagine needlework that could be more demanding. 

Reading the sign next to that quilt, the artist reveals it took her a year and a half to finish it. Not surprising, considering the demanding detail involved. And also not surprising, this was the quilt that won both main awards: the prize for best quilt as well as acknowledgment at being the people's choice. Hear, hear and bravo!

This woman, working on her own small piece of applique didn't mind my taking a photo of her at work. Inspiring, but not an art I feel capable of taking up.  

Art, art, art!

It's been a weekend (and month-end too) filled with art. Yesterday was an afternoon of experience at the Surrey Art Gallery -- from the current exhibit through a writing workshop to an opportunity to do some editing -- and yes, all at the same venue. 

The current show, the work of Victoria's Charles Campbell, is called "An Ocean to Livity." The exhibit is based in breath -- yep, the in-and-out of air that we spend our lives doing. It's complicated to explain, but the visuals were based on (I think) sonograms of breath. Wildly, they 'translated' into a variety of colours and patterns it would have been hard to just make up. 

And then, to the writing workshop which saw us responding to prompts from two wonderful poets, Kevin Spenst and Tolu Oloruntoba. Using their suggestions, we considered each of the lighted art works in the exhibit, and managed to find words spilling out of our brains. And then on to assembling a poem on the spot!

They also provided a series of 'editing' prompts, useful to anyone who thinks about trying to write. 

But the crowning touch was presentation of a how-to on making a mini-chapbook, a skill that Kevin has down to a fine art. Because I first learned how to make these little books from Kevin, I've always referred to them as Kev-bukis. 

But wait, there was yet another opportunity for editing -- this time a session on editing in Wikipedia. This was of special interest to me, not only because 'feminism' was in the workshop's title, but also because when I entered the room where the workshop was taking place, the first screen I saw contained an article about Torrie Groening. Not only did this pique my interest, as she's a Vancouver artist who's shown work in the Surrey Gallery, but I knew I'd be seeing her work on Sunday!

She and her partner Stephen run the Churchland Studio, a featured stop in this year's Capture Photography Festival -- and I'd already made plans to attend the exhibit there. 

Well worth the trek into the city, even with a few dribs of rain on the windscreen, as the photography collection there was simply amazing. And wouldn't you know, in amongst the many art treasures, what would I come across but an accordion book based on small cyanotypes. Wow. A little treasure. And a fitting close to comments on an art-filled weekend as well as the end of this year's National Poetry Month.  

Too much beauty?

Is such a thing even possible?

I've been looking at photos from my recent visit to Ontario, and it's nearly been nearly impossible to choose an image to use here. Sooo much gorgeous scenery, magnified by being there during the most colourful season. 

The idea of beauty and what it constitutes -- how does one define it? I think of the old chestnut, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like." Even without knowing formal rules or schools of art, each of us knows what stirs our heart. 

And heart-wise, mine was broken a bit this morning by a few words I heard in an interview. The person said that art is no longer an offering in US high schools, as school boards have deemed such classes as too expensive. 

Speaking for myself (and many other of my peers in oddity, I am sure), I would not have been able to endure high school if it hadn't been for the acceptance of my art teacher and the mental (and probably spiritual) break that class provided. The companionship of other oddballs meant a lot too. 

So today's blog offers two small samples of things I find beautiful -- the brilliant colours of the changing leaves, and the gathering of birds as they prepare for the long trip to southern climes. To me, breathtaking. I can only hope that you also enjoy the beauty of these kinds of 'natural' art. 

Change-o-rama

Just back from a week away -- off-grid and offline -- what a pleasurable way to spend time! Out in the forest, with ravens and plenty of ground squirrels in evidence (not sure what's in the image above -- kitty? big squirrel?) and fortunately, despite cautions, no bears. 

Most of the time we were camping in Manning Park, a great place for hiking easy trails and just plain

relaxxxing. 

Nearly everywhere, I kept finding interesting rock art. As I so often do, I took waaaay too many photos of these, but it was hard not to, as every time I saw one, it just seemed too fun to ignore. 

One of my favourites was this 'abstract' one which may well have been an 
accident, or might have even served as someone's painter's palette or drip-catcher. I'll never know. 

Coming home serves as a change -- back to the nice, big queen-size bed and of course, electricity and water on demand (hot even!). 

Tomorrow marks another change: the autumn equinox occurs early in the morning when I trust I'll still be sleeping. I doubt that the day will look much different, as leaves have been turning and temps have been cooling down for a while, but the new season will be official. 

But oh -- an even bigger change is coming here in BC. We're having an election. And I think quite a few of us aren't sure it's a great idea. 

One constant that we've been told will endure, even if our government is changing, will be the steadfast reporting of updates from our provincial health officer, Dr Bonnie Henry. One point of continuity will be her regular updates when she always includes her oh-so-quotable mantra, which even showed up on yet another example of rock art in the woods. 

Artspeaks

International Women's Day. A day to celebrate the many women who persisted. This piece of art is by a woman named Dani. It's part of a show called Herstory, an exhibit that opened the other night in a local gallery. All that I need to say for today. 

A place of contradictions

Sometimes Surrey, the city where I live, can make me want to pull out my hair in frustration -- from day to day, it can be so very up-and-down.

On Friday I attended a workshop in Newton, one of our city's many 'cities within the city' -- I guess a previous township of its own, it's now considered one of the city's town centres. It's an area that sometimes gets a bad rap, as it's had its share of crime occur.

But on Friday, there was no mention of crime, as a group of us were led on a tour of a place that could almost be called a transformational miracle -- an amazing community garden, providing beauty, food, and opportunities to work outdoors for anyone who chooses to participate.

And yes, please click on this PLOT project link, as it's quite an adventure, complete with video of how this miracle came about.

The project embodies an idea that really puts the 'unity' into the concept of 'community'.

But then on the weekend, Newton made the news again -- this time with a dreadful house fire, one that investigators have started calling suspicious. Worst of all, there were injuries, and to children.

Yet, I'd prefer to think back on the workshop -- a project that saw us gathering images to be used in an amazing-sounding exhibit in September by Toronto artist Faisal Anwar. Since part of our task in the workshop was to take photos of the wonderful sights we saw in the gardens, that's what I'll close with -- an image of beauty.

Yes, please, I say, more beauty for all.

Ya gotta have art...

Every now and then, it comes to my attention that the arts community doesn't get the respect it deserves. I'm not sure why this is, as it's hard for me to imagine what life would be like without having art in it.

Not long ago, the city where I live changed its mayor and council. It was all above board, a civic (and mostly civil even) election, nary a Russian influence peddler in sight, I am sure.

But along with the change of persons, it seems as if the new government may have lost its heart, especially when it comes to the A-R-T part of that word.

Tomorrow night the Council will be voting on their new budget, a pared-down plan that withholds funding for so many of those things that enliven and enrich our lives. The proposed plan fails to allocate monies to just about anything that might be deemed cultural -- the expansion of community centres, libraries and museums, even athletic facilities.

With our city's population growing by 1,000 people every month, it seems short-sighted in the extreme to be taking this hard-nosed stance. After all, isn't the administration of a city supposed to be there to benefit its citizens?

So why, you might be wondering, did I post a photo of a choir?

Besides being safely camouflaged in among the altos, I'm pleased that, as a result of our annual winter concert, we helped raise money for an important community-serving group whose funding has been cancelled, the Volunteer Cancer Drivers. Audience members made donations which were matched and then topped up by anonymous donor, resulting in a total of $8,000 for the cause.

I can only hope -- in particular during this season that's supposed to be about giving -- that tomorrow night's meeting will see a reversal of the current mindset and will loosen the purse strings to the benefit of everyone who lives here.

Outdoor art

One of the joys of having a house with a yard is being able to sit outside in the cool of the afternoon. When the experience includes reading a book, it's even better. 

When the experience has me looking up from the book, watching a single-engine plane soaring above, I get a small vicarious thrill, can feel the tilt of the wings riding the currents of air. 

And even, just sitting, my eye meets one of the pieces of art we have on and around the house. Right now I can't be sure which artwork I love more -- the painting of Vancouver or the straggly legs of bolting lettuce casting shadows against the wall.  

Time has a way of...

...disappearing, it seems. One minute, the National Research Council Time Signal is beeping ten o'clock (Pacific time), the next thing I know, it's turning into afternoon.

Salvador Dali knew a thing or two about time and created so many pieces exploring its flexible nature. I felt pretty lucky to have heard about an exhibit of a few of his works -- in of all places, a mall.

The piece at the top is his interpretation of Alice in Wonderland. I love the freedom of its fluidy, dancing lines.

One kind of crazy thing I couldn't ignore was the accidental (I am sure) juxtaposition of Dali's dancing clock, and its placement just outside a shop with a clock in its name. Even their times were somewhat in sync. Something I think that Dali might have liked, might have at least winked an eye at.

The show is on at Oakridge Centre until October 1st -- better hurry, before time runs out.

Destination nowhere?

Even though it was way last week when I attended a panel presentation at the Surrey Art Gallery, I'm still mulling what sort of enlightenment it was supposed to bring. And sadly, I'm still not feeling any more enlightened now than I was then.

I'd understood that the topic, "Reflections on Canada" would offer some kind of vision on what contemporary Canadian Art is, and where it might be going in the future -- especially now that the hoopla over Canada 150 has eased.

The roster of presenters seemed pretty terrific -- a potter, a poet, a musician and an artist. With this in mind, I expected a diverse view of 'art-now'.

Unfortunately, not all of the presenters were there to talk about Canada. One seemed most intent on ensuring we understood she was not 'of Canada' while another spent much of the time displaying a personal C.V. of accomplishments. And as for discussion, there was hardly any. The bulk of the evening had been eaten up by some of the presenters going overtime. Moderator, where were you? Hello...

I was -- and remain -- curious about what constitutes Canadian art. Even in the limited area I know best, literature, it seems to be all over the place.

But maybe place -- the very place each of us stands upon -- is as far as any of can go, whether in understanding or in making art that might (or might not be) 'Canadian'.

Whatever, next time there's a panel on what seems to be a specific topic, I hope it will in some way deliver more on that promise.

In among the animals

It's been a wilder than usual week. Not just because of those photos of animals on the walls,though they contributed too -- in a positive way.

The woman is Bonnie Nish, the primary force behind Pandora's Collective, a long-standing group that promotes the arts in the Lower Mainland.

One of the many ongoing events established by Pandora's is 'Word Whips in the Gallery', a gathering that this time I was lucky enough to be a part of.

The way it works: several poets (and usually a musician and/or a dancer) are invited to visit the Zack Gallery at Vancouver's Jewish Community Centre on or around the opening of a new exhibit. Following that, they go home and prepare work that serves as a response to images in the show.

This time, the exhibit, "The Intersection of Science & Art" contained photos taken in South Africa and on the Galapagos Islands. Also included were realistic sculptures of various fish and birds, mainly ones that live here on the West Coast. Both elements served to inspire some strong responses -- not only from the poets who'd officially been invited, but from participants in the Open Mic, such as the talented Sho Wiley.

Of the pieces Bonnie read, the one that resonated solidly was one containing a line, easy for me to identify with, mentioning "days we all want to /crawl into our shell". This is particularly appropriate for Nish, as she's the editor of a book about concussion and brain injury. Not only was she the compiler of (and a contributor to) the book, but she's a survivor of concussion, unafraid to talk about it.

The work presented by the other poets offered the always imaginative range one encounters at readings, although just about everyone seemed to have a poem responding to the photograph of the blue-footed booby with its always-fashionable bright blue feet.

The imagination: surely one of the best traits of our species!

Inspiring

That's the best word I can offer for the workshop I attended on the weekend. Presented at Art in the Country by the well-known illustrator, Michael Kluckner, it opened my eyes to a realm of possibilities I hadn't considered before.

Subject of his presentation was graphic novels. I've read a few -- even did a review of a recent one based on the journals of Susanna Moodie. And I've just finished reading Michael's a very real story, Toshiko, based on the internment of Japanese-Canadians in World War Two. As for considering creating a graphic novel myself, I'll admit the idea had never crossed my mind.

For one thing, I am not very skilled at drawing or sketching. But Kluckner made the impossible seem almost possible.

My plans for this coming season include roughing out some ideas in a sketchbook of my own. I am sure my efforts won't touch the beauty of Michael's work (evidenced by the travel sketches he shared), And though I'm not going anywhere near watercolours, I'm still going to get myself a nice soft pencil and give this genre a try.

Looking forward

I've been staring at this autumny tree, trying to take in some of its calmness.

It's been kind of a crazy month -- not one to complain about -- nearly all of it happy-making, culminating in this weekend's Word Vancouver. Still, I'm ready for a less hectic time.

Maybe tomorrow, when the calendar turns to October, life will slow down a little. But for now, I need to get dressed, as I'm heading off to a literary event, exactly the sort of thing I love to do.

And no, I will never complain about there being too many literary events going on, or too much art in the world, or too many beautiful sights in nature to inspire me.

Everywhere is Anywhere is More...

It isn't very often that an art gallery has signs that encourage you to take photos of the exhibit. But then, there aren't a lot of exhibits quite like the current one on the main floor of the Vancouver Art Gallery, a wide-ranging show by Douglas Coupland.

Yes, there's plenty of Lego, not all of it quite as wildly assembled as this piece. Still, I love the ways he uses it, even when he's pointing out the mundaneness of contemporary suburbia: row upon row of identical houses. All that's missing from his show are the identical people who must inhabit those houses.

One of my favourite parts of the show is a section of Canadiana artefacts -- everything from hokey-looking lunch kits and thermoses to a tin of Uncle Ben's beer.

But don't think for a minute this exhibit is all about trinkets and toys.

Coupland's paintings and sculptures reveal an artist who's committed to interpreting art history. Some of his paintings serve as homage to the Group of Seven and Emily Carr. Others hearken to the era of Pop Art, with obvious tributes to Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol -- or, to their predecessors, Mondrian and Miro.

He even plays around with his own forms of Op Art, with pieces that require you to view them with a Smartphone, for almost a 'magic eye' effect.

It's hard to imagine anyone having this much talent, but yes, he also writes fiction. So, it's not surprising that some of his art is text-based. One section of the show, called Slogans for the 21st Century, consists of signs with Couplandesque sayings on them. An example? "It's not an illusion. Time is moving faster." Fans of his books will recognize some of these as part of the marginalia from Generation X.

Those living in or near Vancouver should try to get to the gallery soon, as the show closes on September 1st. 

Poems on the clock

You'd never know it, if you were judging by this blog of late, but I'm a person who's good at working to deadlines. I'll admit, there've been a few distractions recently.

Still, this past week saw me involved in two events that made me responsible to a deadline. The first was an event at Vancouver's Jewish Community Centre. I'd been invited to read poems as part of an art show. The trick was, I had to write new poems, ones that were based on the paintings in the show. In other words, I had to write to a deadline. Somehow, I came up with seven short pieces, none of which will likely stand the test of time. Still, I did what I needed to.

The other poem 'on the clock' was creating an entry for the weekend's 48-Hour Poetry Contest. This event, sponsored by CV2 Magazine, has been a part of my April weekends since 2002.

For that one, I was in Australia, travelling through the Blue Mountains, reliant on finding a cybercafe so I could participate in the contest. This was early days for public access Internet, at least that's how it felt in any small town in Oz. The one I found was in the back room of a Thai restaurant, so I had to abide by their hours -- all the while doing my best to pay attention to what time (and day!) it might be, back in Winnipeg, headquarters of the contest.

I survived then, and I survived this weekend too. Always a bit frantic, but always plenty of fun.

A psychedelic anniversary

This week saw the 50th anniversary of the lava lamp. I had no idea anyone was keeping track. Most of the people who stared into them didn't seem very into making note of things like time.

But it must be part of a trend going on, as Boston's Museum of Fine Arts is currently featuring an exhibit called 'Hippie Chic' an exploration of fashion, and some of the changes that occurred in fashion, during the decade we call The Sixties (even though some of that decade apparently spilled over into the early '70s).

One oversight in the Boston exhibit -- or at least in the part accessible through the museum's link -- is the exclusion of dresses or fabrics by Peter Max. To me at least, his work epitomized the look that became known as psychedelia -- vibrant colours in surprising combinations -- patterns that often appeared to be moving.

It's hard to imagine I ever fit into the little dress in the pic, but lord knows, I did.

Oh, and if you want a view of a modern lava lamp in action, click on the video below. Maybe it's my sense of time that's awry, but I'm pretty sure the original lamps released their waxy globules much more slowly. One of the most hypnotic ways of watching it was to the accompaniment of Jeff Beck's instrumental, Beck's Bolero. For maximum viewing pleasure, we played our 45-rpm version of the Bolero on the stretched-out 33 1/3 speed. Long, drawn-out notes for extended pleasure. Probably some consciousness-raising inhalations as well.

Peace.

City of contrasts

A five-day visit to Ottawa has convinced me the silly polls are wrong. Our capital doesn’t deserve its recent designation as Canada’s most boring city. Boring wasn’t a term I could apply. There was so much to do, I ran out of time and couldn’t get around to everything I’d wanted to see or do.

It’s a city where old meets new, most obviously in its architecture. Turn of the century (that is, the 19^th to 20^th) houses stand in small clumps beneath office towers. Churches and government buildings lend an air of tradition, while glass buildings and construction cranes crowd the horizon.

The National Gallery, where I spent two afternoons, provides further contrast, with antiquities under the same roof as starkly modern abstractions. The two items that fascinated me the most were a video loop shown on the ceiling (mattresses on the floor to lie on, so you can look up) and a tiny carving of a beluga whale, marked as being 2,500 years old. Wow!

As in any cosmopolitan city, there's plenty of high-end shopping and fancy restaurants. Unfortunately, the same contrasts evident elsewhere -- the ones between rich and poor -- are here as well. 

The market area provided more reasonable food choices -- bakeries, ethnic restaurants, poutine stands, flowers for sale. 

But the biggest contrast of all was the new exhibit on at Canada’s War Museum – an exhibit on Peace. 

One of the coolest aspects of this is the fact that John Lennon and Yoko Ono came to Ottawa on June 3, 1969. It was the day after they'd finished the bed-in events they'd done in Amsterdam and Montreal. By fluke, I ran into a photo of their meeting with Pierre Elliott Trudeau during that historic visit.

Now, if only I could convince the powers-that-be to change the name of the memorial museum to the Museum of War and Peace. 

A place for art

Just about everywhere I've looked the past few days has been a place where some kind of art is staring back at me. The painting, by Genevieve Pfeiffer, is a recent splurge. Some people fall for clothes or shoes or jewellery. With me, it's books and small pieces of art.


Friday was an opening at a gallery in Vancouver. Two of my closest pals compare notes on one of the photos in the show.


Saturday was supper (its own work of another-kind-of-art) at the home of an artist friend. The tour of his studio served as a second dessert. While in that very magical space, my friend and I talked about how interesting it always is to see what people hang on the walls in their homes.

What do you suppose the art in your home says about you? And really, isn't every place a place for art!

36 Frames

That's how many frames are on a standard roll of film. And that's how many pieces, taken with standard cameras, are in the current photo show at the Semiahmoo Arts Gallery.

The opening, last Thursday, kept viewers entranced -- not only with the prints hanging framed along the walls, but with the old cameras on display there.

Some of us even played around with View-Master reels, shot and created for the occasion by the artist.

There was lots about the night that was fun. Heck, even most of the food was in shades of black and white.