In The Garden

This evening I braved the ferocity of the mosquitos to snap a few photos of the flowers in the garden. The above picture is a close up of chive flowers, one in full bloom, the other a bud that I'm sure will open up tomorrow morning. I love the way a camera can bring the details so much closer to the human eye. I'm showing you a small version at 72dpi, and already the flower is three to four times normal size (depending on the monitor, of course).

I'm not certain what kind of moth it is in the photo below, but it's a good bet some clever entomologist is out there who could readily identify it. As it stands, I'll just be in awe anyway. The daisy is your standard fare and it's growing in amidst the rose bush to provide some interest while the pink blooms prepare themselves.


Sadly, little caterpillars are eating half circles into the leaves. I've been trying to pluck them off and return them to the forest across the way, but there are too many of them (or the same ones keep coming back!). I don't want to use chemicals, so I guess I'll have to research other options. At any rate, I can't wait for the roses!

Abundance
27cm x 35cm
Mixed Media
on Paper
2007

I turn my face to the sun
The heat like gentle lips

Placed upon my skin
In benediction

There's more than I can take
There's abundance

Bumblefish
Mixed Media
on Paper
2007

This little fellow floats his life away in the gentle peace of his work. In the warm summer, the flowers are abundant and the water silky smooth, making it easy to glide about gathering sweet nectar for the rich harvest.

Bumblefish, Bumblefish, Tumblefish, too!
Hum as you go so I can tap my shoe.
Float like a butterfly, sing like a whale.
I'll give you a kiss or two if you can catch your tail!

-old nursery rhyme about the Bumblefish

Cravefish
27cm x 35cm
Mixed Media
on Paper

Part scavenger, part hunter, all craft and cunning, the Cravefish swims the deeps looking for an easy meal or a chance to outwit the trusting with one of his schemes. But the sun...up above, shining so compellingly bright...an irresistible pull draws the Cravefish higher and higher out of the black water below to the mystery beyond.

Picker

Tonight like all nights
the beery crowd is inattentive
while he rasps bad covers

His picture, at the door
without a grey hair
is the illusion of memory

Live every night
his voice, fingers
worn by the years of living high

Reduced to strumming
supported by rhythm ace
collecting scale

He is a defrocked priest
knowing of the sacrilege of holding the crucifix
In their cases
his Martin
his Fender
await his redemption

Every night, again, again
a request, a beer, a dollar

Tonight, half gone
he, half in the bag
when she sends him
wedge of lemon, shaker of salt, shot of tequila
five in cash, napkin note
"Play something you like," it reads

He struggles,
to think, to remember
anything worth a five

© Andy Michaelson, Words Like Ashes


Andy is good friend of mine and he's been honing his writing skills for the past 798 years or so. For more of his poems, and the works of four other talented writers in Western Canada in the book Words Like Ashes, contact:

andymichaelson@shaw.ca

Another year...

So, I'm feeling remarkably accomplished. I survived another year. However, it does give me pause to consider that only means I'm one year closer to my impending demise. It's there, there's no escaping it - but I do like to pretend that I'll live forever, perpetually young and only slightly wrinkled around the eyes. I mean "smile lined", not wrinkled.

I've been in an astoundingly cliche mood for the past week, "Oh, what's all for? What's the point? Is this it? Is it?"

Trust me, I've been a joy.

Quite suddenly, the clouds have parted and I'm feeling optimistic. I still don't have any answers, but as the kids say these days, "whatev."

They do still say that, don't they?

Spl!sh
11" x 14"
Mixed Media
on Canvas
2007

Another fish. These are based on a number of sketches and quick watercolours. If all goes well, I will have a few more to offer in this series.

Sw!sh
9" x 12"
Mixed Media
on Canavs
2007

I've been painting fish lately. A lot of fish. I hope you like fish, because it's all I've got coming in next little while!

If you find yourself getting bored, feel free to scroll through some of the archives. Some of them are missing their images (a result of switching servers) and I'm slowly working on getting them restored. Otherwise, it's all there, besides the first couple of years where I wasn't archiving at all.

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

It occurs to me that I haven't updated the music I'm digging for years, now. Most of the artists are still on the list (Sarah Harmer - Escarpment Blues), but there's so many amazing things out there that I've heard and should slot in.

More importantly, if you have any recommendations, I'll take them. Painting for hours at a time can eat up a lot of music surprisingly quickly.

"Words Like Ashes" Reading

If you're like me, you don't often get out to a poetry reading. Well, here's a great chance:

Thursday, May 3rd, 2007

Poets Ink!, is pleased to invite you to attend the launch of our book, Words Like Ashes.

Words Like Ashes is a collection of the work of five poets, resident in the greater St. Albert, Alberta area.

In his back cover notes, poet, novelist and author, Thomas Trofimuk says, “This is a fine collection – five poets firing full blast – from the sublime to the down-right bawdy, delivering a smorgasbord of poetic delight. This is a sutra of extraordinary voices engaged in the art of making poetry. These poems live and breathe and I shall revisit again and again and again and again!”

Please join us in our celebration for some tasty delights and beverages at the St. Thomas Café and Bistro, 44 St. Thomas Street, St. Albert from 6:30 pm to 10:00 pm on May 3rd.

The St. Thomas Café is located 20 minutes from downtown Edmonton, north on the St. Albert Trail to St. Anne Street, turn left at the light, follow St. Anne through the next three traffic lights (short blocks), turn left on to St Thomas Street just past the Arden Theatre and go one block. The St. Thomas Café is on the corner on the right.

Copies of Words Like Ashes will be on sale that evening for $20.00 and all the authors will be in attendance, so you will have the opportunity to get a full set of signatures. In stores, Words Like Ashes will retail for $24.95.

More information from:
Andy Michaelson
andymichaelson@shaw.ca

What You Wish For
7" x 5 1/2"
Walnut Ink
on Paper

It's been cloudy and wet, and will continue to be cloudy and wet for the next several days. Absolute Heaven. Here in Alberta, we take what rain we can get because we never know when the next drought is going to hit. Luckily, it's been a good few years and everything has been growing green and verdant (by our standards, anyway). I recall driving home last year from Vancouver, observing the transition from lush utopia to dessicated reality. The beauty here is simpler, sometimes hidden, and I suppose that's why I love it so much.

As for this painting, it was created for my last show and was a continuation of an idea I started with GoldenFish. I'm posting it now because of the rain. When I lived in Southern Alberta, there were a few hard years of little precipitation, and quite suddenly it began raining so much that cities and farmer's fields flooded. Everyone was praying that it would stop. So it did. And it was another decade of long, dry summers. It got so bad that everyone prayed for rain, so guess what? It fooded again. This time, I think the prayers were a little less demanding because nature has relented and provided a few solid years of peace.

Be moderate in what you wish for, because you will generally get it, and not always in the ways you expect!

"He's really nice and he doesn't even look that native..."

Not exactly the stunning endorsement I look for in life. However, I've heard this before, too:

"Wow, you don't look totally white."

I'll be the first to admit, halfbreeds have all the fun!

Little Helpers

10" x 40"
Mixed Media
On Canvas

I'm not sure that I ever posted this image before. I painted it at the tail end of summer in 2005. I love watching beavers as they munch away at trees and swim around dragging ridiculously cumbersome branches behind them as they prepare winter caches and put the finishing touches on lodges and dams.

It's especially fun when there are little ones about trying to help mom or dad, grabbing little twigs and swimming along beside their parents.

You have to be patient if you want to see this. You have to sit very still and you can't shift or eat or sing or anything to pass the time. Just stillness and a good spot downwind (I assume...I actually don't know much about beavers' sense of smell). I do know that they are shy.

My dad used to to take us out to watch the beavers when I was small and the wonder I felt then continues to this day. Of course, the difference is that these days I don't toss pebbles at them to hear the smack of their tails on the water surface anymore! Well, not always.

One thing that never left me is a sweet yearning to be able to dive down with them and watch as they make their home snug and secure; observe their little expressions of love and family; listen to the whimper of their gentle communication. Good old beavers. Their numbers aren't so low now that we don't make ostentatiously tall hats out of them (do we still make small hats?) but they are threatened by this manic development Alberta's boom has brought.

Ah well, for now you can go out to almost any wetland-ish area with some deep waters and if you are very patient and very quiet, you can see them for yourself.

Unlike those stingy fairies. But that's another story.

A force field suddenly popped up out of nowhere...

The good thing about winter apples are that they're fermented! The bad thing about them is they're fermented!

The more the waxwings ate, the more daring their aerobatic displays became until this unlucky fellow smacked right into my studio window. Delightment to aghastment in 0.5 seconds. I stood up and looked out on the patio to see a small, still creature lying on it's side with eyes closed.

As I watched, he groggily got to his feet and had himself a little breather. A sit-down, if you will. I went out to check on him and he just looked at me (blearily, I assume) as I snapped a few shots of him while he caught his breath and equilibrium. Then in a flurry of dew drops and sound he flew off to the nearest tree. He looked around, called out to his buddies, and they launched to the hunt - chasing flies and mosquitos, each one trying to outdo the other in daring 'between branches' manouevres.

Bohemian Waxwings Find Lunch
Photo April 2007

These little guys were having the feast of their lives as they stripped the old apple tree bare of it's winter fruit. A large elm across the way was their lookout and they would fly in squadrons back and forth in the dozens. The air was filled with their sociable chatter and the tree looked like it was suddenly alive with quivering movement.

The More Things Change
Mixed Media
on Canvas
6" x 8"
2007

Moonlife
18" x 36"
Mixed Media
on Canvas

Arise And Sleep No Longer
24" x 40"
Acrylic
on Canvas
2007


Happy Easter!

Sometimes I Teach

...And when I do, I notice that the more tentative the artist, the more difficult it is for them to create something they like. Once they break out of the need to look like they know what they're doing everything seems to come together for them.

This is a real problem whenever we try anything new, our desire to keep from looking like complete fools!

Well, look like a fool!

Who are we trying to impress, anyway?

In the next few days I'll post a few fun exercises I do to get my "inner art" flowing and break me out of the habit of thinking I know what I'm seeing. Many of you will be familiar with them, but it might be fun try out these old stretches again.

More colour is on it's way. In the meantime...

Otter Dance

5" x 6"
Walnut Ink
on Paper
2007

---

I just read that Native Groups who protest land claim decisions by putting up road blocks or gathering together are now classified as terrorists. Apparently using these means to sway public opinion or government policy is now considered on par with the actions of the Tamil Tigers, Hezbollah, and the Islamic Jihad according to a new Training Manual draft document created for the Canadian Military.

"Although they do not seek complete control of the federal government, they do seek particular political concessions in their relationship with national governments and control (either overt or covert) of political affairs at a local/reserve ('First Nation') level, through the threat of, or use of, violence."

“What we're seeing,” (says Stewart Phillip, the Grand Chief of the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs who recently predicted “a summer of aboriginal protest” in response to the perceived lack of action on native poverty in the federal budget), “is the deliberate criminalization of the efforts of aboriginal people to march, demonstrate and rally to draw public attention to the crushing poverty that is the reality within our communities.”

And here's an interesting take on self-oxymoronification:

Indian Affairs Minister Jim Prentice has responded with warnings of financial penalties for any native group that uses federal money to plan such protests.

“Working together to find common solutions is a much more constructive way of dealing with issues than planning blockades,” he said in a letter to The Globe and Mail this week.

(...but we'll still find a way to demonstrate that you are using federal money to plan your "insurgency" by claiming, oh I don't know, that Federal money was used to build your dilapidated community hall. He neglected to mention that the only reason the blockades occur is because the government refuses to sit down and discuss these issues beyond telling the Aboriginal community that they have no say on the matter under discussion or on the land to be converted into a golf course, or the quality of water they can drink)

Anyway, here's the link from the Globe and Mail: Forces' terror manual lists natives with Hezbollah

----

Personally, I do think that some of these blockades have gone too far, but from my perspective, it's been errors on both sides that have escalated situations that should have been able to have been dealt with peaceably. On the Native side, you've got land claims of a conquered people who were promised many things if they would lay down their weapons and submit to the Crown, few of which have been kept or delivered on.

On the Government side, if you negotiate and deal in good faith with this group, then that group will want clean water, too, or that group won't want their great grandmothers' bones to be removed from sacred ground, and so on.

This translates into a lot of money that most taxpayers won't want allocated to "the Indians" who already get lifelong "handouts".

----

I have no doubt that when the final draft of that Training Manual comes out, the First Nations section will be heavily revised. The Conservative government is looking for a majority and the last thing they need is to painted as racists once again.

----

It's a crazy world, my friends.

I'm Giving Up Art

That's it, I'm done.

I've run out of ideas and I have no passion left.

There's nothing left to say, so starting immediately I'm shutting it all down. Painting, drawing, this journal....there's nothing left. I'm burnt out.

I always toyed with the idea of doing something corporate...maybe become a lawyer? Put down the paintbrush and pick up the Blackberry?

I don't know, but it feels great to stop with all the art nonsense.

Freedom at last.

We Slept on Beaver Hill
3 3/4" x 4 3/4"
Walnut Ink
on Paper

2007

The Edmonton Area used to be called Beaver Hills by the Indigenous people who first lived here. It was a resource rich landscape with hunting, berries, water, trees...everything needed to live well and without fear of hunger or want. Little wonder the Hudson's Bay Company decided to set up shop. Fort Edmonton was the last outpost before the great, lonely journey to the North and provided a means of trade and peaceable co-existence (for the most part) between the European settlers and the First Nations people. For a time, it offered a possibility of a future wherein both cultures would be equals. Those days are long gone, as are the times before that, but even in fading memory is the knowledge that once, we slept on Beaver Hill.

Artist Interview with Lauren White

In this continuing series, I am showcasing some of the talented artists who have crossed my path these past few months and years. Their work ranges from photography to performance to something in between. This month, a controversial artist, 23 year old Lauren White, aka. Raymi the Minx.

Voted Best Blog, Best Humour Blog, and Best Personal Blog in the 2006 Canadian Blog Awards, Lauren has garnered many more fans, and definitely a few more detractors along the way. This record of her personal life can range from wisely clever to embarrassingly juvenile in the space of one or two sentences, but that's part of the charm and unique identity she portrays. Controversy arises from the fact that she is the Queen of Her Domain and naysayers are ridiculed not only by her, but by her protective fans as well. She writes about anything, and will post images of herself drunk, eating, using the toilet, or completely nude. Fair warning if you click on the link to her site.

Is it performance art? Some seem to think so. Still others are convinced that she is simply seeking fame and adulation by any means possible. Lauren, or "Raymi" as her alter ego would admit, embraces it all.

She is the author of the book, Marketable Depression, a story that details her own struggles with alcoholism and drug use in her attempt to self-medicate and make sense of the world around her.

Without further ado, an interview. By email:

Lauren White
aka Raymi the Minx
artist, author, provocateur

Q. Lauren, when and why did you decide to become an artist?

A. just sort of happened i didnt really decide i just realised that writing manically is basically the only thing i enjoy doing, i go by the code find the one thing you enjoy doing most and get someone to pay you to do it, that or get a blog and convince people to be obsessed over it.

Q. Cool. So what kind of advice would you give to those thinking about taking the plunge but worry about the commitment?

A. wasted talent is a tragedy, you don't have to sacrifice everything else in your life to do one isolated artistic thing, you can be an artist and a yuppie simultaneously

Q. All right...well how about some words to live by, then?

A. be original and unordinary and dont let anyone ever tell you otherwise when people say that you will never make it ignore them and keep doing your thing knowing you will make something of yourself, those people are cowards with nothing to offer themselves and seeing you create makes them feel lazy and untalented, don't let people project their insecurities onto you, ever.

Q. Great. So, anything else to finish up with?

A. buy my book

---

Synopsis of Marketable Depression:


Marketable Depression is a pretentious title I came up with one day when I was feeling clever. Ever since taking English Media in high school I have been fascinated with advertising and how the masses can be effectively manipulated and also how depression is being exploited and sold back to us and perhaps its about time we say something about it. There isnt much having to do with marketing in this book but there is a lot having to do with depression and alcohol. This book is about me and everything that has happened to me as a result of depression. Everything is true.

---
images: Saddam (created 2 weeks before hanging), Lindsay Lohan, Tom Cruise.

New Chapter

I love learning. Ever since I could read I've had my nose in a book, getting high on information. Imagine my reaction when I got my first internet connection! In those days, the ultra fast 24.4 baud meant you could download entire articles within minutes! I definitely spent more time than was healthy staring at that 13" screen, radiation pulsing through my wide eyes of wonder.

Reading is something I took for granted. I never thought much of it until a couple years ago. I always knew my step-father had some trouble reading, but I never picked up on the difference it had made in his life. As an adult I see it clearly. He was turned down for jobs, he had trouble getting the accreditation he deserved because he was unable to complete the tests, and when asked to read in public, his face would turn red, sweat would form on his furrowed brow and he would haltingly stumble after the words until he had finally finished his passage, other men pretending not to notice or be embarrassed for him.

He has dyslexia, and aphasia on top of that. When he was a six year old boy he was beaten nearly to death. He had been a bright, inquisitive little guy, but when he recovered, all that potential was locked behind the brain damage that took away not his intelligence, but his ability to express it.

He couldn't talk. He had lost the power to speak. After years of struggle he finally managed to stutter out a few words at a time, but sometimes the words wouldn't come, it was only the stutter.

So he developed his body instead. He grew stronger and stronger until he could silence the people who laughed at him - with his fists. This got him in trouble with the law more than once and it's safe to say that he was a little rough around the edges. When my mom met him, he was an angry young man, smoking and drinking too much and I think he was still on probation.

My mom's a smart, sharp, red-headed woman. She saw something great in this broken man who sat with the strength of a gorilla, anger simmering behind green eyes and a dented forehead. She brought out his laughter and his humour. He played the guitar and he would have us dancing for hours, five little children laughing at his silly looks and handsome smile. It was his first glimpse at what a real family could be.

They married, despite the parole officer's deep concern about my step-dad's frightening history and file thick with red flags and warnings. In the first two years he stopped smoking. One night he tried to come home drunk to his fiery new wife and she kicked him out on the street. He stopped drinking.

I won't lie to you. There were some deadly serious and heartbreaking times through it all. That we have all made it out alive is an honest to god miracle. All my siblings carry hurts and scars from those times. We also carry strength and happiness. My step-father is a good man, and he and my mother did so many things right for us. They loved us and nurtured us and gave us every advantage they could. We were poor, but lived well thanks to mom's wizardry. We have so many happy memories to draw from whenever we need them, and we have black memories to keep us grounded. The dark times allow me to relate with all those others who have been hurt, but haven't yet healed.



Would I trade the pain now that I'm grown? Probably. But I carry it, so I might as well do some good with it.

A few years ago, my step-dad found a tutor through P.A.L.S. who was able to teach him how to work around and with his dyslexia, and he began to really learn. He worked diligently and hard for year after year. Imagine my shock when he started telling me about a book he was reading!

Even now as I type this my heart is filling up with warmth and I'm chuckling, tears forming in my happy eyes. I'm so proud of him. He's so good to the grandkids, and he always tries to do the right thing. He always did.

Flawed as life and people can be, he is still my hero.


---

Four Directions
Walnut Ink
on Paper
2007

I'm Just About Ready for a New Adventure

Being in a creative field is a strange kind of existence. On one hand, there is the constant feeling of humility and awe just thinking about the nature of the living world and the way it connects to the sun and the eternal vastness of the universe. On the other, there is this hilariously overblown confidence that anyone would want to look at what your human hands have created, much less find it so compelling that they are willing to trade the energy they put into earning their money for the thing created.

I've talked to authors, dancers, sculptors and photographers about it and they either agree wholeheartedly or look at me like I've just grown three new sets of eyeballs in the course of five sentences.

When I apprenticed under one of Canada's finest goldsmiths, I was often shocked at the asking price for his creations. After all, the cost of the materials, while prohibitive, wasn't nearly as astounding to an apprentice as what people were willing to pay for the finished work. It took years for me to understand that people weren't buying the gold and the diamonds, but they were buying something even more rare.

Here I was being taught by a master craftsman yet remaining completely blind to the fact that his work was one of a kind. So unique and skillfully rendered that one would be hard pressed to find an equal to each of his pieces. Of course, many of those techniques and abilities he passed on to me, but into our work we poured the sum of our lives to that point. All the experiences that made us who we were translated in subtle and beautiful ways into the manner in which we sculpted the metal, set the stones, melted the alloys to create the ingots we eventually hammered into shape. I contrast that experience to the rush and tumble atmosphere of working for a jewellery company in Edmonton, and the way everything was in and out with little consideration for what I call the "process", and what they called "wasted time". The results were of good quality, but were they weren't the serious art I was used to. I finally understood the value of my master's work.

I find this same philosophy applies to my paintings (albeit at a much lower cost for the next couple years, or so). At first, I was dumbfounded whenever someone bought one of my lovingly painted works. Also, heartbroken. I love every painting I make and I feel the little rip in my heart whenever a sale is made. I always want to know about the person who bought it, and why they bought it. It has become easier, though, now that I realise that I'm not going to run out of ideas, and that the work I pour my energy into brings so much satisfaction to whoever has taken it home.

No, I've come to a point where I understand the value of my work, which is a remarkable thing.

For so many years I undervalued myself atrociously. I won't even tell the stories, they're so hard to think about!


---

I currently show at the Willock and Sax Gallery in Waterton Lakes National Park. It's a beautiful little two story gallery and they represent some really amazing artists. My only regret is the trouble I have keeping them in stock with the kind of work that suits their location.

My other gallery is the internationally renowned Bearclaw Gallery in Edmonton, Alberta. They're the first gallery to have taken a chance on me and I've been with them ever since, growing my career under their tutelage.

I've been shown in the Art Gallery of Alberta, have a few pieces in a current traveling exhibit with that gallery and Guest Curated an exhibit myself under the guidance of Fiona Connell. I had a one man show to inaugurate the new gallery space in the Northern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium thanks to Jennifer Alabiso.

Of course, all this preening has a purpose. I'm starting to feel a little wanderlust and I'm trying to build up my resolve.

I am considering expanding my work out of Alberta and into some other venues. Perhaps Toronto, Vancouver, or even a nice international gallery. Where and how to start?

Any suggestions?

I think I'll write a few letters to artists who are shown across Canada, see what tips they can give me. Maybe it'll simply be, "keep painting". That sounds suspiciously like the advice I give to young artists who write to me. (Note to self, come up with a more helpful response from now on) I'll keep you up to date on their replies (if they reply) and we'll see where this new adventure goes.

Corresponding Issues

I'm not good at getting back to people. This has caused quite a few problems and misunderstandings from time to time. I'll read an email and think about, even think about everything I would want to say in reply...and never write back. In the back of my mind, it's already done and I promptly forget about the whole thing.

Same thing with phone messages, paperwork, appointments...the whole business of communication.

So, if you ever feel like I've ignored you, nothing is wrong, I still think you're amazing, and it wasn't on purpose.

And don't be afraid to nudge me from time to time.

And now my rationalization has just flown the coop. In other words, talk to you soon.

I missed it.

I missed the moment when I stopped thinking about what parts of me came from my mother and which from my father. The temperament - mother. The talent - father. That sort of thing. At some point in time, I started thinking of myself as a whole person, rather than a tangled mishmash of my parents' genealogies. Why is this important?

For myself, I worried that I might grow up repeating the same mistakes, or maybe that I wouldn't measure up.

Would I abandon the people I loved? Would I try to harm myself? Would I follow my grandparents into alcoholism?

We all make our own decisions. It's the only way we discover ourselves, or create who we want to be out of the myriad possibilities we contain. The more we choose where we want to go, instead of floating along wherever mercurial moods might swing, the more we can feel in control of our direction.

No matter how tenuous the stability of the outside world might become, who we are inside can remain solid and reliable if we choose it.

So Happy
Mixed Media
on Paper

2007

Sometimes it's just nice to break out in a big, happy smile. The cares of the day evaporate and the whole body is filled with a cheerfulness that bubbles up and breaks out in a genuine laugh and complete delight.

Never Tell Me The Odds
12" x 24"
Acrylic
on Canvas
2007

In the stories, coyote battles monsters. It's just what coyote does. In one legend from the Nez Perce, Monster was devouring everything in the land. Monster was clever, but he couldn't seem to capture the last remaining morsel: Coyote. Now, Coyote missed all his animal friends so he was angry at Monster for eating them. One day, Coyote tied himself to a mountain and called out to Monster:

"Come, and get me, if you can!"

So, Monster seeing the coyote defenseless tried to suck him into his belly, but the ropes were strong and tied so well there was nothing Monster could do. Finally, he gave up...but he was still so hungry.

"Coyote...." Monster said slyly, "won't you come and be my dinner guest tonight?"

"Certainly! Let us put this anger behind us."

So that night, Coyote came to Monster and as they were preparing for the evening Coyote said, "Monster, I miss my friends so terribly. Won't you let me in to your stomach so I can see them once more?"

Monster had to hide us delight. At last! He would devour Coyote and his dominance over the land would be complete.

"Step right in," and he opened his mouth wide.

Coyote leaped in, fearlessly and with all his might, but he didn't go into Monster's stomach at all! He tore his way into Monster's heart and ripped and shredded his way through the giant, beating heart, finally killing Monster and ripping him open, freeing all the animals.

The carcass, Coyote hurled to the four corners of the world and this is how the people came to be. He had no pieces left where he was, so he took the blood on his paws from Monster's great heart and formed the center people, the Nez Perce.

And that is how coyote did it.

Sketch for "Last Fire"
2005

Sometimes finding a good model for sketching can be ridiculously difficult. Especially if the artist is looking for an attractive model to sit for them. It's not that there aren't any beautiful men and women out there, it's that it becomes a greater challenge to find one that has remained untainted by the heaps of praise and worship they've received over the years because they happened to win the genetic lottery.

This sounds bitter, doesn't it? But it isn't at all. There is nothing wrong with having a nice physical shell, but as an artist I want to see where pain, humility and a good heart meet to create that moment of wonder and possibility. It's as difficult as finding someone who falls well below every unrealistic standard our society has for success and beauty...finding that person and discovering confidence, pride and self-worth.

They exist, absolutely.

The challenge, and it's a worthy one, is to find these fantastic souls.

Even In The City
2007

Moonrise
18" x 14"
Mixed Media
on Canvas

2007

Nothing so simple as Moonrise

Nothing so normal as trees
Nothing so common as starlight
Or the scent of wild flowers
You, and the hours
We've spent in the warm summer breeze

Yes, we've spent in the warm summer breeze
You, and the hours
The scent of wild flowers
Nothing so common as starlight
Nothing so normal as trees
Nothing so simple as Moonrise

Thanks to Everyone who came out! It was great to meet so many amazing people. The gallery was absolutely alive with your energy.

Deep In The Winter Wood

24" x 40"
Mixed Media
on Canvas

2007

Once Upon a Time, this is how it was. It was just like this...Snow covered the rolling hills, a cool blanket over a sleeping companion. The night was alive with the twinkling crystal air, and the naked trees stretched out silvery limbs to the hard, unblinking gaze of a thousand thousand stars, appearing closer than they had ever been before, perhaps seeking refuge from the yawning emptiness of the eternal void, perhaps forgetting that the emptiness was their mother and father both. Perhaps just lonely on such a silent night. The moon was just climbing over the edge of the world when silently, on padded toes, Rabbit stepped out of the darkness, and at almost the same time, Raven shuffled into the light.

Raven had kept his Dreamer, or perhaps it was the other way around. Nevertheless, he was looking two places at once, as Ravens do, while Rabbit kept his silence. After all, it was his very own to keep.

It was the subject of his life, tonight, of which he was not entirely certain. Still, he had come, deep in a winter wood, silent but for the Raven's rasp. The breath of a talker, a forager, a scavenger.

The sussuration of a predator's song.

But Rabbit had something else in store tonight. A surprise.

"Trickster" Begins Tomorrow at the Bearclaw Gallery

Like A Thief In The Night
24" x 36"
Mixed Media

on Canvas

The road sign is cut off, incomplete. If unbroken, it would read "Menaik Road". I've passed by this road a hundred times on my way back to Edmonton from the south, and one day, I might just slow down and turn the wheel, and see what lies down that path. One day. Words we all say, and it's like a nice cushion to rest our heads upon, a balm to soothe us. But the truth is, we don't know for sure if that day will come. Oh, it will come for someone! But maybe not for you, maybe not for me. After all, we have only so much time.

So why don't I just take that road? Because I don't know it. I don't know where it will lead. A map might give me markers, but it can never detail my destination.

I'm speaking around this painting. I realize that. There are those who will clearly see the symbols, and divine a meaning, or a hundred meanings. There are some things you can say, and some things you can't. The words stop, the tongue sticks and it all just stops.

Show Starts Saturday, March 3rd at the Bearclaw Gallery - Edmonton

Toil and Trouble
24" x 36"
Mixed Media
on Canvas

2007

This piece was inspired by a late summer trip through the dry grasslands of Southern Alberta, Canada. There's a lot of farming in the area, vast dry crops that stretch out to the horizon and goes on for hour upon sunbaked hour. It was at a turn-off to an emptier road than the one I was crunching along that I saw this scene. At first glance, it seemed like one creature with three heads, all battling each other for space to fix me with eyes barely glimpsed in the glare. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was really only three crows sharing a weathered, cracked stump at the edge of a neglected field.

Breathing in the hot, dusty air I gave a nod to the dark and midnight trio, and went my way.

TinTin in Edmonton (and Area)

Blistering Barnacles! I want to thank the very intrepid reporters who spent some time with me over the past few weeks. They're all good writers and they all have a different story to tell, so I recommend you pick up or purchase hundreds of thousands of copies of each of their respective papers. Or better yet, (hic!) buy millions and millions in advertising space!

Gilbert Bouchard
Writer for The Edmonton Journal, Where Edmonton, and correspondent for CBC's RadioActive arts beat. His article comes out Friday.

Mike Brown
Writer and Editor for the Special Sections of The Edmonton Sun. His piece comes out Thursday (tomorrow!).

Darren Zenko
Writer and reviewer for VUE Weekly Magazine. This one's free, so even if you're as poor as I have been many times in life, you can still pick up this issue. Darren is also one of the writers in BookTelevision's "3-Day Novel contest". The show is on it's third week, so check it out. He is also the author of more than a few books and he happens to keep a site (hint to Gilbert and Mike) which you can check out from my links. His story comes out Thursday (tomorrow) as well.

Just a reminder that my show begins on Saturday. Bring your friends and make a day of it! 124st has a ton of other galleries, so take in some culture if it interests you. There are also a number of amazing little cafe's and bistros and tea shops and shopping. Sort of like Whyte without the detritus of the nightlife. I hope to see you there!

(By the way, if you have a clever header for this post, I'd be glad to hear it)

ouch

This is a bad trade. I understand the argument about building for the future, and that at 36 years old (at the end of his 5-year deal) maybe Smyth would have not been at the top of his game (debatable), it's the optics of the situation.

It just looks bad.

And more importantly, it FEELS bad. Not just for the fans, but for the entire team. This was the guy they counted on to bring energy to each game. Every game.

There are arguments that when he was injured earlier in the season the Oilers went on a winning streak, but could that have been simply because the remaining players notched it up in order to hold down the fort?

In two games, now, the Oilers have been shut out twice. Last night in his first game as an Islander, Smyth notched a point on an assist and our other traded Oiler, Marc-Andre Bergeron (arguably our "best" defenseman) got a goal.

Smyth is an elite player who wanted to stay in Edmonton, which few elite players would do, and not only that, he was worth every dime for the spirit he brought to the team, and the love fans had for him.

I won't be surprised if there's a massive drop in support for this club in the next few weeks.

The Oilers management would be smart to get him back at season's end.

Show Starts in One Week!

The Bearclaw Gallery Presents
124st - 104ave
780.482.1204

TRICKSTER
New Works by Aaron Paquette

March 3 - March 15 2007
artist will be in attendance 2-4pm opening day

An Unexplored Dream
4" x 6"
Encaustic, Oil
on Canvas

2007

There is nothing so compelling to me than a waking dream that has not, or can not, be explored. The mystery and meaning must lie asleep until the truth unravels on its own.

---


In this piece, I'm using encaustic (to be more specific, Beeswax). I've melted it until it runs smooth and then I spread it over the surface of the work. During this first stage, I layered in Oil Paint to give colour to the wax. When the wax hardened, I took a sculpting tool and carved my design into the surface of the wax and then worked more Oil paint into the incisions. I finished it up with a few glazes of Oil, again, worked into the surface of the encaustic, and set it aside to cure.

I had a hard time getting a picture of this piece as there are translucent layers that seemed to be vying for the camera's auto-focus and most of the results were fairly blurry. If you haven't seen encaustic work, go check it out. The medium is as versatile as there are artists to use it, and when the layering effect is captured, it can add a subtle beauty to a piece that is difficult to achieve in any other way.

In many examples I have seen, there is a brightness to the work as light bounces down through the layers and then shoots right back out from the surface. For my effort here, I chose a more moody quality. The piece is filled with shadow and a murkiness which fit my intent perfectly.

Artist Interview with Terrance Houle

In this continuing series, I am showcasing some of the talented artists who have crossed my path these past few months and years. Their work ranges from photography to performance to something in between. This week, we focus on multimedia artist Terrance Houle. Known for bending perceptions of stereotype, culture and race, Terrance infuses his work with a natural and welcoming sense of humour, poking fun at both "Native" and "White" culture, challenging preconceptions even as he breaks them down.

Terrance Houle
Multimedia Artist

1. Why/when did you decide to become an artist?

I decided to become an artist back in high school. The year was 1992 and I was sitting in Art class realizing how much I hated school. In those days I wasn't interested in a lot of what school had to offer me. I hated the curriculum, I hated the establishment. I loved skateboarding, art, music and learning about things I wanted to learn. So around that time I was into punk rock and political art-making. I was making silkscreens and collage. I was really into printmaking. I never thought I would actually be an artist.

2. Any advice to those thinking about taking the plunge?

Well, for me, I look back at my experience and think that I am really happy I went to post-secondary school. I learned tons when I was studying for my degree(a lot of diverse cultural learning not just western culture). I studied Fiber and Textiles and that really opened my eyes to different forms of art-making. I say keep an open mind and find the things that interest you! And make your mark - don't be afraid to push yourself and your ideas.

3. Anything else you want to talk about, Terrance?

Do you have another interesting question?

4. Sure! Do you have any "words to live by"?

When the tough gets going punch it in the face...ha


Terrance Houle is an internationally recognized interdisciplinary media artist and a member of the Blood Tribe. Involved with Aboriginal communities all his life, he has traveled to reservations throughout Canada and the United States to participating in Powwow dancing and other native ceremonies. Terrance began his art career at the Alberta College of Art & Design in 1995. After a 2-year hiatus, he returned to his studies in 2000. In 2003 he graduated with a BFA in Fibre. He has developed an extensive portfolio that ranges from painting to drawing, video/film, mixed media, New Media, performance and installation. His works have been shown in Calgary, Vancouver, also Toronto and internationally in France, Switzerland, Australia and Warwickshire, England.








Terrance was also a part of Diplomatic Immunities for Alberta Theater Projects 2006 Playrites Festival, making a leap into the Theatre world through a contemporary play by Mammalian Diving Reflex Theatre Company. Terrance has also had numerous screenings of his short video and film works in particular at Toronto's 2004/05 ImagineNATIVE Film Festival winner of 2004 Best Experimental Film and 2004/2005 ImagiNation Film Festival in Vancouver including the Calgary International Film Festival 2004/05. Terrance's work has been discussed in Alberta Views, New Tribe, Aboriginal Times, Artlink (Australia) and ArtReview (England/New York). In the fall 2003 Terrance participated a Thematic Residency at the Banff Centre for the Arts in Alberta, Canada. The Residency focused on 34 indigenous people working on issues of colonization and communion. Artist came from New Zealand, Australia, Canada, Mexico and the United States. Currently Terrance has worked as a mentor with youth through Metis Calgary Family Services, teaching video production and Art. He also maintains his Full time art practice in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. art website:

http://www.myspace.com/terrancehoule

Images: "Sneak Peek" Walter Phillips gallery - Banff Bus Ceiling Project 2006, Untitled, Family Portrait for Momma Weaselfat, Might As Well Jump! Jump!, Billboard Project Calgary 2006

Watch Out!

For the next week or so, as I prepare for the upcoming show, I'll be stingy with posting any more of my work....

BUT, I have been working with some remarkable Junior and High School students the past couple weeks, graciously hosted by Amiskwaciy Academy, organized by the Edmonton Public School Board (Aboriginal Education), and funded by Albertans through the Alberta Foundation for the Arts.

Details and pictures to follow...

Drumbeat
3' x 4'
Mixed Media
on Canvas

2007

Our hearts are locked inside us, safe, beating away the minutes like the determined sound of a deep, dark drum. The warrior takes his heart out of his chest. It is touched by the air, by the sun, by snow and rain. Anyone who passes by can reach out and touch the warrior's heart. It is sensitive and vulnerable, and can easily feel the soft brush of tears. It beats to the song of creation, and all who pass by can feel it in their bodies, their own heart responding , aligning, and breathing with that implacable rhythm. It is fierce and active and filled with fire.

The raven attacks the open heart at the same time as he protects it, caught between entropy and the growth of new stories, new moments, untold and unfinished lives. There are new worlds forming, called into being by the unstoppable heart...and raven, the carrion eater, will do as he must, and bring them light.

In The Artist's Studio

I sometimes get emails from students who are writing reports on artists of one style or another, and one of the common questions asked is to describe my studio/workspace. I'm not sure I understand the fascination, but here's a photo, which I hope will help set the scene.

On the easel is a painting I started in -I think- summer of 2005. It has undergone a few changes since I began it, and here is the finished version:

Finished!

On the chair is a painting I eventually finished as well, and you can see it here:

On the chair!

(Of course, you'll have to scroll down to see them...I don't know how to link to exactly the right post)

As you can see, my set-up is fairly rudimentary and mundane. My tools are simple and so, sadly, is my chair. But I have music and sunshine and trees outside the window. Beyond paint, brushes and something to work on, that's all I really need (my family would argue food, water and rest were also kind of important, but those are details, right?

When I get stumped, or I feel like I've been too long pouring out the energy, I'll try to pump some back in. I play the guitar (badly), and I go for walks (excellently), and above all, I try to keep my sense of humour intact, such as it is.

That last bit, it can throw people when they meet me. There seems to be a perception that I live in the clouds and should be either romantically serious or stolidly dour. It may come to that, but in the meantime I want to get as much happiness out of my days as possible.

There is a whole lot to get sad over. There is no shortage of sorrow or suffering in the world. Injustices can be found by opening a newspaper...or walking out the door. Somehow, I don't think allowing anger about these things to become the pervasive response of choice is going to help anything.

In dark times, all anyone needs is light.

Sounds a little too simple? Could be...but like any family, mine has had it's share of tragedy and disaster. Like many, my siblings and I grew up with lives of love and terror intermingled.

Do you turn a blind eye to the bad? That's kind of a ridiculous thing to do -pretending something didn't or doesn't exist...crazy. And that's where you'll get to if you try that.

The big lessons I learned from my relatives is that laughter is what keeps you together, both as a family, and as a person. You could cry about a lot of things, but to be able to see the lesson and smile, that's what a person who is really serious about life learns to do.

It's what I try to do.

And most of that effort takes place in a room of sunlight and windows - a canvas on the easel, and a paintbrush in my hand.



And a smile. Don't forget that.

A Tale of Two Cities

This is my city in a nutshell. The beauty of the untouched wilderness alongside manically industrious oil refineries. These were built back in the heyday of the 70's when Alberta really started to feel it's muscle and get all giddy about vast treasures of black gold, just waiting to be tapped. There's no way this construction would be approved in today's environmentally sensitive atmosphere, but there it is, and we live with it.

On the other hand, we have a tremendous Greenspace coursing through the heart of the city along the river valley (and the many creeks that feed the river). You can go right through town along the river and be surrounded by trees the entire time.

We support NHL Hockey (GOilers!) and Experimental Theatre (Fringe!) with equal fervor.

We're constructing a state-of-the-art Art Gallery while at the same time keeping ever more numbers of Tim Horton's coffee shops not only viable, but overflowing with customers every single day.

In a province in dire need of people to fill the jobs our present boom has created, we are host to people not only across the country, but from around the world, all hoping to make their fortune in a modern day equivalent of a Gold Rush.

Good old Edmonton. The filthiest slush hole this side of Moscow in the winter - but summer! Summer the way God intended and mankind dreams for. Long, warm gentle evenings, with an accompanying music-filled, eye-opening, mouth watering festivals at every turn. We live those summers like the next one won't arrive for another ten years.

That's why we look for the beauty to be found in winter...and it is there. The way snow can reflect a dozen colours at once, and the landscape looks like it's wrapped in a cool, clean blanket of sparkling wonder.



Which in February, is exactly how it feels.