If there were a crystal ball ---

 

If a crystal ball were available for our end-of-year consultation, it would probably resemble this year's December 26 Full Moon through the trees on my block.  Its contents are barely discernible.

 

A year ago, as I held my breath and thought that perhaps we were really beyond COVID, I hopefully "unveiled the Three" for 2023.

 

But the year now ending turned out to be such a stunner, in so many ways, in so many places, for so many people, that I revisited the "Three" with this updated version:--

 

Teetering on today's Eve of Now and Then, I think I'll just invoke Janus.  A key god of the Roman pantheon, he with his two faces can be said to look towards the past and towards the future.  In fact, as the god of beginnings, endings, birth, death, war, peace, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, windows, frames, passages – well, he can play it any way he wants.

 

Here's my copy of an unnamed artist's stunning image of Janus, found on the internet.  (Hmmm….would Artificial Intelligence also be a field for Janus' patronage?)

 

With the skies so dark lately, I made one last 2023 stroll around VanDusen Gardens – feeling the borderline gloom of its grotto in daytime – when its "Festival of Lights" display is disconnected until sunset.

 

 

But then, with memories of times past, I walked through the dark passage and out into springtime of another year.  Janus would have had that all figured out.

 

With hope once again (or at least, acceptance), I can never let the old year go without the words of the poet  Rainer Maria Rilke.  

 

"Come, let us welcome the New Year, 

 full of things that never have been."

A meet-up with The Man on the Street

After the interruption of the Blue-Haired Anime Queen (possibly--), I aimed again to gather some young hopefuls for their Commedia dell'Arte audition.  Alas, my timing was off, and I was elbowed out of the way by a white-garbed figure – my goodness, it was THE king-pin (or so he says) – Pulcinella.

 

As research shows, there must be dozens of variations on his name and many variations on his role and character.  Wikipedia offers this rather sympathetic assessment:

"The quality that best distinguishes Pulcinella is his cunning, with which he manages to solve the disparate problems that arise in front of him—always, however, in favor of the weakest at the expense of the powerful."

He has a bit of the common man about him – he wouldn't have let anyone go without spaghetti (as in the title scene) nor chide them for their manners.  Yet, as he might boast, he's a pretty big deal in the history of Western art and theatre.  The famous Tiepolo father and son artists couldn't resist gathering a whole crowd of Pulcinelli.  Here's Papa Giambattista's take:

 

 

 

 And here's Son Domenico's:--

 

Following the traveling Italian theatre troupes to France, we'll see the white-garbed Pulcinella eventually become a white-garbed Pierrot – invented by the celebrated early 19^th century mime artist Deburau.   

 

The inspiration of Deburau himself lives on, notably in the extraordinary mid-20^th century film, Les Enfants du Paradis, called by some "the best film ever made."

 

And let's not overlook the Commedia's influence in England, where "Polichinelle" was a marketing ploy to draw the crowds for no-cost dentistry – and Punchinella eventually became the male figure in Punch and Judy shows.  If you're intrigued, The Victoria and Albert Museum offers this marvellous long read -- a long skim even, but fascinating.

 

 

We could go touring all around Europe on this saucy guy's shirtsleeves, but it was about this time in my research that a friend suggested we meet up on The Drive,  the historic neighbourhood for  Vancouver's Italian community.

 

 

As I walked from the bus stop to meet her, I noticed the snazzy commemorative crosswalk markings that had gone in since the last time I was there.  Then, we had such a great reunion that it wasn't till later that evening that my plan came together.   Take one Pulcinella:--

 

Add one Commercial Drive crosswalk and backdrop:--

 

And away we go.  Keeping with my plan to model my Commedia figures on some of my neighbours, I tried for the pony-tailed guy across the street.  He's either in I.T. or film production, or both, and surprised us all by becoming the most awesome Cat-Dad to two sibling rescue cats.  How did I slip into the cat topic, when what I needed was a pencilled grid to pin down Pulcinella where I wanted him?

 

 

Here's the scene, early in my process.

 

 

When I wondered about the intense and very round red and green apples, an offstage voice whispered, "Bought from Triple A Market."  Or did it say, "Brought from Triple A"?  Or did tricky Pulcinella just swipe the darned things?

 

Whatever.  This painting breaks the rules, too, all the rules of composition I've heard and tried to follow.  But here it is, "Pulcinella on The Drive (Audition Series)" – copyright 2023.

 

 

And you know what else?  THE most important revelation from all my research so far:-- Pulcinella has a historic association with the city of Naples, Italy.  And what other famous Italian phenomenon originated in Naples?  PIZZA!!  (We thank our boutique café in Upper Manhattan for permission to use this photo.  The chef notes the "product" is a little well-done – but we got to talking.)

 

In another part of the galaxy

 

 

Strange things are happening.  Hallucinatory?  Supernatural? Extraterrestrial?  Too early to tell. 

 

Remember when I did the Beetlemania Series and beetle spin-offs kept cropping up in unexpected places as I went about my daily life?

 

Now as I begin a series based on the Commedia dell'Arte, I'm finding resonances here and there.  How about this sale package of pasta?

 

Okay, it's weird enough that this is Dolce & Gabbana pasta.

 

 

But look what (or WHO) comes dancing along on the side and back of the package:

 

 

It's the Commedia's Pulchinella!  You'll be properly introduced to him before long.  Quite a coincidence, yes?

 

But, really, I need to get an eager gang of would-be actors lined up for their auditions.

 

 

If only I weren't distracted by someone who joined me at the bus stop one morning, with her own fetching head gear.

 

 Who WAS she?  Always pretty far removed from popular culture, I was clueless.  From the 1960s when at least I knew the major celebrities and then their celebrity offspring, I can assert that this was not Princess Leia.  I searched internet images for far too long and came across near-misses  like "Green Elf Queen" and anime characters like Rimuru Tempest.  Definitely another part of the galaxy!!

 

She will be nameless, this gal, until someone out there recognizes her.  And as for the auditions, she's asking, "Did I Come to the Right Place?" (copyright 2023).

 

As I'm writing this, I hear noises outside.  A quick glance out the window reveals…a spaceship lifting off?– or an early start on the Otherworld of end-of-year holiday celebrations?

 

 

My many manias

 

 

 

 

My mid-month post has slipped by a day – a time management luxury I allow myself when my many manias compete for attention.  For the past few weeks, I've been grabbing the occasional spots of sunshine to get my spring bulbs in the ground and – whoo hoo!! – to make progress on brickwork in my back yard (thank you, L and B for your very special deliveries of recent years – North Vancouver bricks and Galiano rocks).

 

The site is a bit muddy now, but in another 5-6 months when the bulbs emerge from under my funky squirrel baffles, this will be spectacular, won't it?  Oh, I feel a sidebar coming on, devoted to that last stone in the line-up on the right:-- the biggest rock I've excavated from this rocky soil.  When my trowel clinked on something 8" down, I couldn't resist dig-dig-digging.  But once it was fully exposed (a good half-hour later) how would I get it out of its hole?  I channelled the Egyptians and thought of the stones at the top of their pyramids – and then, inch by inch, I nudged it up a slope, propping with smaller stones as it ascended to ground level!

 

Egyptians?!  Do I feel another mania coming on? Maybe another day, but here's a very interesting ancient Egyptian textile.  Its "rescue" was perhaps simpler – just a matter of unwrapping it from a you-know-what.

 

 

But onward to the competing mania – my current infatuation with the Commedia dell'Arte

 

All I could possibly want to know -- but in German!  No matter.  Here's the plan.  There's a line-up from Actors Equity, hoping to audition for the many characters in the traditional Commedia dell'Arte theatrics – and we aim to give them every assistance to make it a success.  Their costumes need to fit just right so the first stop is The Fitting Room.

 

 

It's very skillfully staffed by my young ex-neighbour, a young mum who's a professional seamstress working on garment prototypes for the renowned Vancouver-based firm of …oh, I shouldn't name names.  Let's call it "C-C Citrus."  First out of the sewing basket is the costume for Arlecchina, the female Arlecchino or Harlequin.

 

In the original Commedia plots, Harlequin was presented as a tramp-figure, dressed in patched clothing.  But now those patches have transformed into downright elegance.  So, let's get started.

 

 

I was playing this by ear – or eye – and as I began to add colour, I had the idea that individual figures in this series might be modelled on my actual neighbours.  (They ARE an amazing bunch, several of them involved in the film or design industry).

 

I paused at this point to do a study, hoping for the face of C-C Citrus but having mixed success.

 

 

I realized, too, that it would be tricky at the small scale of 14" x 18" to suggest much more than the curly mop of hair.  Here's the final version:  "The Fitting Room – Audition Series" (copyright 2023).

 

 

Lots of room for improvement, but we'll have some fun with this crowd.  As I was about to close out this post, thinking about the Tulipomania that inspired the title engraving, I happened to wonder….Isn't there a variety called Harlequin Tulip?  Well, by Jove…No, let's make that "By Mercury!" – the patron of my astrological sign and a well-known trickster figure – a natural addition to the Commedia dell'Arte.  Here it is:

 

 

 

Nothing old hat about these centuries-old traditions

 

 

These witchy gals keep showing up in my searches for vintage photos – sans identification.  Well, what would one expect?  And who would want to learn that one of them was your grandmother?

 

Even in their day, they were youngsters in the witchly family tree.  The first known written manual on How To Be A Witch dates to 1584, but the practice evidently goes back to the Stone Age in different cultures.

 

This group of pointy-hatted Victorians would be right at home having tea in the garden.  Oops!! That's a Starbuck's cup, and someone who is decidedly eerie has already snagged the last table.

 

 

Coincidentally with this season when costumes rule, I've been thinking about my next series – after my tronie-induced art fail recorded last time.  Looking at old lists I'd made of possible "Series and Singulars," as I call them, I came across a recurring enticement – Commedia dell'Arte.   Like the witches' grimoire, there are various recorded fragments of Commedia performances going back to the 1500s.

 

This ample compendium from the 1960s collected working scripts for no fewer than 50 plotlines.

 

Thanks to traveling Italian players, the Commedia's stock characters in stock situations will show up throughout the history of European theatre -- in Shakespeare, in Moliere, and even in the lower-brow Punch and Judy puppet shows.

 

Well!  Before my book request came through from the Vancouver Public Library, I'd remembered my early infatuation with the Commedia characters.  When we moved in 2012, I'd tried weeding out old paintings but hadn't been able to give up this brief series from 1988.  (I look at some of my early paintings and wonder if I wasn't better then than now).

 

Here's my Harlequin (Arlecchino in the Italian), whose deep purple-violet garments seem to have become even darker over time – while the surface of the glued collage elements has made it almost impossible to get a proper glare-free shot.  It's just as well that my original plan, to place our Siamese cat in his arms, didn't pan out. 

 

 

Next up:  "The White Clown," modeled on the Commedia's Pierrot.

 

I must offer a tip of someone's hat (pointy or otherwise) to Watteau, from whom I borrowed the bow on the shoe.

 

 

I was in a very experimental phase then.  The White Clown peeks from beneath that drapery because the panel I was painting on had a big corner chip that I had to cover up.  And the final piece in the series is perhaps the most successful – except for my timid treatment of the flesh and faces.

 

 

Here, Columbina (left) and Arlecchina share a dramatic element of their dresses with the single piece of old lace that unites them.

 

 

Well, one thing leads to another when your thoughts are leaping around.

 

 As a result, I've decided to revisit the Commedia characters and costumes.  After all, if the subject is good enough for Picasso, it's good enough for me.  No way!!!  I've just gone looking for a link to Picasso's harlequins and found a link to "Picasso Clown Fish."   A pricey little number, too.

 

 

So – gather your theatre attire…or popcorn?...and get ready for more behind-the-scene glimpses of a zany collection of characters.  But first, they have to audition!