Lazy hazy crazy days of summer

 

 

Is this a clown wagon, come to pick us up and sweep us off to summer camp?  No such luck.  It's colourful all right, but it's a moving van come to take my good neighbours' stuff away, ready for the new chapter in their lives.  And mine.  So be it.

 

Summer camp will be a welcome break, and if there's any chance that you think this is just one of my personal quirks, there's a long cultural history here.  Take a read as you keep yourself hydrated.

 

Of course, water is serious business any time of year.  Here in Vancouver, surrounded by water habitats of all kinds, school kids learn about the once abundant salmon streams.  Many of these run under our streets, but thanks to ongoing efforts, some are now being "daylighted". 

 

My game plan for summer camp began to evolve with my late May excursion to Capilano Suspension Bridge  – plenty of water there, and once-rich salmon spawning grounds as the altitude drops and the river nears the sea.  Whether or not it's busy with tourists, this canyon and its forest edges fascinate me – recalling old days of mountainside treks.

 

I found a new fascination, too, on my recent trip – the weathered metal (copper?) cleats that work in tandem with spiffy new hardware to hold wooden stairs and decks in place.

 

By the time I returned back home that day, I'd decided on some basics for Summer Camp 2025:-- (1) Hydration was my background setting.  I'd follow the water to as many settings as I had time for.  (2) My first piece would recall an earlier People's Choice – "Partial Eclipse" which was assembled around a gorgeous piece of rusted metal.

 

And I just happened to have another rusty foundling, about 8" long, waiting for suitable companions – of which I have many,

 

At first, I thought I'd create a kind of tower as a base, using two wonderful cardboard packing pieces.

 

Nah…  Just one of these would be plenty, and I laid it flat to receive a glue job.

Here's a partial close-up in final format.

 

As a grand finale, I held an exclusive private viewing, outdoors at 8 a.m. one cool summer morning.

 

Here it is – "Rough and Tumble (Hydration Series)" copyright 2025.

 

Okay.  So I'll be checking out other hydration locations this summer, and we'll see what comes of my expeditions.  But we don't really need Summer Camp to do dotty things, do we?  It's safe to say, we now have lift-off.

 

 

 

Off-leash dog parks as training grounds for ----?

 

Training grounds for Summer Camp, maybe?  That was the plan for June 2025 – the "East Side Storeys" series was brought to conclusion in May, and then we'd head for the annual interval heralded by "No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks…"  

 

But plans have often gone astray this year.  Certainly, the plans of my very close neighbours have been a jolt for me.   You can see here how close we are!

 

After my fairly successful painting of their old cat Linus, I decided to press on and try to paint their beloved pug dog Bugsy.  The promised photos from the couple's spokesman didn't materialize so I used my own.  Here's the most ambitious –  From a few years back, my camera had been allowed to capture only the dog, not the "Dad" holding him with another neighbour's pug.

 

As a Plan B back-up, I worked in parallel from a second photo.

But only the head, in a smaller square format.

 

Off-leash parks don't always operate on smooth terrain – and by golly, that gallant little Bugsy could not have offered more challenges in his closely packed folds, his fur texture, and the subtle near-monotones of his white-cream-tawny fur.  And there are off-leash rules, too – meant to be broken, like the old painter's rule to "never use black"?  Okay.  I didn't.  I used Payne's Grey with a bit of raw umber for the darks.

 

But long before that, I wrestled with all those folds in two early sketch layouts.

 

 

Okay – first one, first.  That's the one I really wanted to get right.  Here's an early lay-in when I still thought I could do something with the background image:

 

No good. I had to somehow keep the information that the dog was being held, but I simplified it for the final version - "Handful of Bugsy," copyright 2025.: 

 

And here's the final version of the smaller square portrait, "Bugsy - Best in Show" copyright 2025:

 

The two together seemed to make a pleasant Father's Day surprise when I delivered them this morning.

 

And NOW:  Summer camp is just around the corner.  No, you don't need to bring a mask.  No, it won't take place in Venice.  And no, we won't be reprising the Commedia dell'Arte – except for some unstructured high jinx.  But be there or be square – that's what summer camps and off-leash parks are all about!

 

 

That time of year

 

 

The month of May has come to a close, and summertime fun is just around the corner.  In fact, it seems like there's been non-stop fun lately so it's time to settle down and bring to conclusion the "East Side Storeys" series.

 

For the series finale, I'd planned to place figures on a balcony, to be viewed from a lower vantage point. Over months, I'd spotted some lovely old homes that offered different possibilities.

 

 

 

 

 

During the first COVID year, the life drawing studio I attended moved its sessions on-line. Sometimes the facilitator would set up a "mole cam" to capture views that would be impossible to get in person.  I'd always wanted to do something with this pose in particular.

 

Eventually, I chose one of the first houses that had suggested the balcony idea to me.

 

Uh-oh.  When I went back to get a better photo, I was shocked to find a City signboard indicating the house is slated for demolition and replacement.

 

 

And why should I be shocked?  It's the Vancouver story these days.  At least this old house will be replaced, simply, with a somewhat larger new house – not a residential tower from 8 to 44 storeys.  But let's not go there.

 

Every painting in this series quickly took an unexpected turn and went somewhere I hadn't planned.  All right, then.  I gave up on the balcony idea and reverted to one of the oldest, most intriguing houses I've come across.

 

Built in 1906 (thank you, BC Assessment records), it was likely a rooming house for workers contributing to the early 20^th century development and population boom that hit about 1910.   

 

Oh, I do love those bay windows!  Musing on who might have looked out those windows in days gone by, I decided to tap into the rooming house vibe.  Dreamily and surrealistically, the images unfolded – not to "haunted house" standards, but yes, with a little air of mystery.

 

A rooming house of the early 1900s would have had a landlady – a kindly one, let's hope, and she began to show herself behind the curtain.

 

Here, in the final version, she's likely checking to see how many of her boarders have arrived home from work.  Is it time to heat up the chicken stew?   A couple of them are already hanging out, waiting for supper at "The House at the Bottom of the Hill" (copyright 2025 – East Side Storeys Series).

 

I walked by there again today, hoping for a photo to capture the rather steep slope of the hill – to no avail, with the trees in full leaf. 

 

 

More usefully, for the end of this series, I spotted these neighbouring houses, just two blocks away:-- On the right, one of the typical houses of this part of the city.  On the left, under construction, one of the new-style 21^st century models.  Someone else will have to tell that story some day.

 

 

Step right up -- if you can

 

At the outset, I had great plans for my "East Side Storeys" series.  I'd have my preferred subjects – people – interact with features of actual old houses on my side of town.  First, a house with enchanting rooflines;  then, a house with beautiful stained-glass windows; then, an irresistible bay window: and mostly recently, a unique front porch. 

 

Well, if you haven't lost the plot – and it's been easy enough to do – you'll know that each East Side street I've travelled has had a bump in the road.  Do I dare try again, aiming for a house with lovely front steps occupied by step-sitters?  The gorgeous title photo of a classy brownstone in Upper Manhattan urged me to rise to the challenge – thank you, Friend A!

 

Here's the house that started my original train of thought:

 

When I cruised back one day for a better photo, I wondered if its next-door neighbour might offer more possibilities.

 

If you've noticed a similarity in colours with previous houses in this series, it's probably due to the "True Colours" program – a catalog of heritage-inspired housepaint colours derived from the colours of actual old paint chips.

 

Somehow, these steps just didn't work with my would-be sitters and standers.  And meanwhile, I'd again walked in a different direction and paused at this charmer with its wrap-around veranda.  I was undeterred by the prominent tree in front.  Hadn't we gleefully learned of "artistic license" in Grade 7 art class?

 

Yes – let's try this one.  Here's the view I'll work with as I try to get both those side porches.

 

From this, I did a rough pencil drawing to scale, to be copied with a pastel stick onto a green painted underlayer.

 

I played around with this for several mornings' studio sessions.  WHY hadn't I remembered the basic East Side lesson – that unless I worked on a very large canvas, I was unlikely to be able to combine plausible people with plausible housefronts.  The step-sitters just wouldn't work!

 

Then, to the rescue -- A small figure I've had on my bulletin board for years.

 

Scaled up, she's going to help me get back to basics.

 

As we take this house "down to the studs" as they say, I'm going to begin again, working from the blueprint.

 

Paintbrush in hand, this gal works fast – choosing to start with that bay window that I couldn't resist.

And here's the final:  "Working from the Blueprint" – East Side Storeys series, copyright 2025.

 

Just coincidentally, I walked into my Friend L's gallery (hers by virtue of several decades of expert volunteer labour) to find its current exhibit featuring an artist who works large-scale – with the architecture of vintage houses!  How about that?!?

 

And meanwhile, we've all had the pleasure of Friend A's photographs – as beautifully composed as those of the plats du jour at her boutique restaurant.  She comments, by the way, that the very idea of prohibiting step-sitting is "very un-New York."