Homeward bound

 

Summer camp is drawing to a close, and we've covered a lot of ground in the interests of "Hydration".  This peaceful image is my friend G's house, just half a block from mine, and just possibly, it might be responsible for my original interest in Vancouver's hidden streams.

 

Her husband grew up in this house, his parents', and decades later, he and his bride became its proud owners.  I never knew him, but she told me stories he'd passed on – including the good times he and his pals had, playing in the creek that once ran just a block and a half from where I live. 

 

Click to enlarge this map, and just at the bottom right of the big yellow box, you'll see my small blue circle – encompassing G's house and mine, just west of the intersection through which that vigorous stream once ran.

 

Today, our local library branch is a stone's throw (shades of those scampy little boys!) from that intersection – and the library has done a nice job of dedicating some wall space to posters telling the local story.

 

Another brewery!  Well, you need to hydrate when you're busy operating a farm or nursery, like Mr. George Benson.

 

G's parents-in-law must have known the man.  Indirectly, his legacy lives on in the official name of this area of the city:-- Kensington-Cedar Cottage.

 

The final sentence of the library's storyboard lists the abundant marine life in what was then Gibson Creek.  No wonder environmental enthusiasts are interested in "daylighting" some of these long-gone streams.

 

Well, what was I going to do with this, as my finale in the Summer Camp Hydration Series?  Maybe something incorporating the rings of the tree stumps along G's block, remnants of aging cherry trees that had to be taken down.  (Vancouver and cherry trees make a complicated story). 

 

Using paraffin and rice paper, I made rubbings of parts of some stumps.

 

A nice abstract, but the rings were just too shallow for the rubbing to "take."  Then one morning, I woke up thinking of topographic maps, which I'd loved playing with after learning about them in 6^th grade.  Wow – that would be something:--  my neighbourhood with all its ups and downs.

 

Oh, darn.  Not a good idea, after all.  I quickly confused the look of topographic maps with the look of aerial maps.

 

Time and tides wait for no Person, and I needed to move on.  The solution?  I just plunged right into the water (resisting the temptation to add small boys' bare feet).

 

Nothing very satisfying about that so I became more definite, with colour and with lines bordering the wave movements.  Here it is:  "Daylighting the Hidden Stream – Hydration Series," copyright 2025.  (Yes, I smile too when I add "copyright" to some of these rough productions).

 

Later that day, I was gathering papers for recycling and came across this small magazine from early spring.  What a joke!! – I should have just copied its eye-catching cover!!

 

Now, to come full circle, here's that famous intersection today, thanks to Google Streetview – a multi-storey tower replaces the old brewery, and the library branch and a grocery store occupy the ground level of the adjacent lower tower.

 

Somewhere down below, the old stream is still showing its stuff.  Thanks to water seepage, the lane between the towers was closed off for four months' maintenance last year – a deep hole was dug and new fill applied to the sealing layer.  Let's see how long that lasts!

 

Every season brings its new adventures.  Where will next year's summer camp take us?

 

 

 

 

 

The sound of silence (or something) at Still Creek

 

 

Here's a favourite place of mine – Il Centro, the Italian Cultural Centre of Vancouver – just a short bus ride from my home base.  The fabulous art director at their gallery -- Il Museo  -- curates 4-6 exhibits a year, and I try to catch each one.  After viewing July's exhibit, I ambled through nearby Beaconsfield Park and saw construction signs posted.

 

Hey!!  Hydration!!  I'd heard of Still Creek, of course, but didn't know of this significant City of Vancouver project – and its evolving success, bringing spawning salmon back to its waters.  You can scroll down in this City link for a YouTube video and see lots of salmon in action, in just the first two minutes.

 

On my July visit, the wetlands recovery was just getting underway.

 

Back at home, I was soon delving into all kinds of internet sources.  Here's a vintage photo that slightly resembles the outflow shown beyond the blue fencing.

 

Here's another, which could be anywhere along the course of the creek, showing early 20^th century boys doing what boys do.

 

It was time for me to get going on my next production, and I was still uncertain what to do.  Putting a sombre base coat on my panel qualified, at least, as "doing something rather than nothing."

 

And, you know what?  I'd already had my fill of abstraction.  I wanted to get back to people in their settings.  That outflow and bridge looked promising – add two small boys in knickers, maybe?

 

Well, suddenly the ground shook.  Earthquake?  Revelation?  Realization!  It was the middle of August, and how could I have forgotten what was about to erupt on the world stage?!

 

 

 

And here they were!  I didn't need to do a thing except push some paint around and get out of their way.  Here's "Tsunami at Still Creek" – Hydration Series, copyright 2025.

 

"This is zany," you say?  Here's the guy to hold responsible – Zanni, one of the stock characters of the Commedia dell'Arte.  (and yes, the source of the English word "zany.")

 

 Just think:  As of September 1^st, this whole gang has another 21 days to go!

 

 

Let's keep hopping upstream!

  

Flowing along with our Hydration theme, we last convened on one of the early 19^th-century footbridges over Brewery Creek—not in wintertime, granted, but this snow scene was welcome during the past week's super-hot weather.

 

Now we're headed south to the higher elevation from which Brewery Creek flowed.  The route is by no means a straight line as you can see on the map.  Usually a click on the picture will enlarge it, and I've added a wide circle and another red arrow to indicate roughly the borders of our next destination, Tea Swamp.

 

Those who prefer coffee might make bad jokes about the liquid contents of Tea Swamp, but it's called that for a good reason.  Labrador Tea is the common name for a wild shrub that grows across the cooler regions of North America, as one of three varieties in the rhododendron family.  Indigenous peoples used it variously to brew a liquid drink, often for medicinal purposes, or to flavour their cooking.

 

Just as Brewery Creek and its footbridges are lost in the mists of time, so too has Tea Swamp become just a memory.  Well, the memory lingers on in wonky streets and rollercoaster sidewalks.  I regularly walk this familiar route on East 19^th Street.  My camera couldn't quite capture the thrilling changes of elevation as tree roots and city utility lines have held their ground while the land continues to subside.

 

Our old house was a few blocks uphill and eastward from here.  When the first multi-storey building was built on the slope, we endured pile-driving for days on end – and more of the same just ten years ago, after moving another six blocks away, as this intersection was further developed.  (If you've become hooked on this fascinating!!! story, take a browse in this local journalist's account.)

 

It was here, just beyond the new building in the upper right, that I once chatted with a construction worker at a vacant lot being fenced off for development.  He recalled early school days when field trips would bring his class here to see the vanishing remains of Tea Swamp.  And that brings us back to Summer Camp 2025, and a semi-abstract hint of what Tea Swamp might once have been.

 

Mixed-media is the way to go, and I began with a favourite "loosening up" technique – applying plastic wrap to a still-wet painted surface and lifting it when the paint is almost dry.

 

 

Using acrylic gel, I attached some old found bits of hardware and a stream of threads from worn rags.  Next I used a couple of printmaking has-beens to stamp some darker colours. 

 

 

Then, as I was preserving Tea Swamp for all time, why not preserve crumbs from the most beautiful leaf I found last fall?  It was otherwise destined for the green organic waste bin.

 

Here's the finale, "Tea Swamp Unearthed – Hydration Series" copyright 2025.

 

We've travelled from the footbridge at what is today East 7^th Ave to Tea Swamp at East 19^th.  If we continued our ascent (spoiler alert -- that's not on our itinerary), the source of Brewery Creek would be near this intersection at East 31^st.  I took this photo, looking downhill towards the old environs of Tea Swamp, after having an eye exam.  I hadn't quite realized how indistinct it would appear, but maybe in the distance, those are "the mists of time."

 

Right under our feet!

 

 

I was walking from the bus stop to the dentist one fine day in June, not long after the "Hydration" theme had occurred to me. 

 

 

I knew from previous trips that something watery happened at this intersection.  This time, I stopped to pay attention to the interpretive marker.

 

Wow!  Lots of tidbits here for a research expedition.  I later found that whole websites and history organizations (yes, small ones) are devoted to Brewery Creek and its special claim on an era in Vancouver history.  Let's start with a map from 118 years ago this month.

 

Giving credits where due, I'll say that this map makes no sense at all until you come to realize that compass North is on the right.  Then, in association with this battered photo image on the marker, you can almost feel the water flowing around you. 

 

So here we are, standing on a footbridge.  One of those websites informed me that Vancouver's two major industries in that era were sawmills and – yes, breweries.  For the big picture, let's move to a bigger picture of all the old-time streams flowing down northward to sea level (eventually) from the height of Vancouver's east-west spine.  

 

 

This will be our blueprint of sorts for Summer Camp's "Hydration Series."  If you squint, you might just see a small red arrow (my addition) that points to our current Brewery Creek location.

 

Meanwhile, what about abstract art, the designated vehicle for this series?  Even more than usual, I've recently been mulling about art in general.  On a later day, I went back to the triangular coffee shop located at that intersection, just about in the old footbridge location. 

 

Climbing over a few stools, I parked myself and my coffee at the very point of the shop – and found myself thinking of …Cezanne?  How did he get in here? 

 

A Cezanne viaduct.  Okay.  And there aren't many artists past or present who have given as much thought to what art is.  I remembered almost verbatim his observation, which is more specifically illustrated here:

"Everything in Nature is modeled like spheres, cones and cylinders. We must learn to paint based on these simple forms and only then will we be able to do everything we want."

Was all this becoming too much like Summer School rather than Summer Camp?  Not at all.  Maybe it was the cinnamon bun with the caffeine rush that gave me the perfect blend of Brewery Creek and abstract art.  I had my title.  I would just have to follow through: 

"A cylinder, a sphere, and a cone walked into a bar…"

Back in the studio, I assembled a few small paper supports and also my old collection of gouache paints.  It was a bit tricky with a very small brush on about 3x5" paper.  The first version was simply white on black.

 

Next up, the same image using just a few colours.

 

And at this point, a funny thing happened.  My memory bank was surfacing an abstract painter who worked similarly with thickened directional lines and basic geographic elements.  Haha – notice how I've put myself in the same league!  Let's see.  His name started with an "M."  YES! – Malevich.   Don't you think we could hang on the same wall together?  This painting of his is titled "Wide Walls" so there's certainly room enough.

 

I was quite chuffed, as the Brits would say.  I made one last version, this one with the same shapes but different configuration – and thought of it as a Summer Camp Medal.

 

Now, you might wonder as I did, "Can abstract art be viewed upside-down?" 

 

Well, that's another whole field of research – for another camper. You might, however, like to see some famous art pieces that were hung upside-down – until someone noticed.

 

Grand finale:  I decided to give my three versions The Full Malevich – enlarging them for a museum display on a Wide Wall!  A small figure from an old sketchbook slipped in on the sidelines to give a sense of scale.

 

Then on we go to our next Hydration stop – splashing through the reeds along the way.  I just read somewhere that Marcel Duchamp had the wit to say, "Don't make art, make mischief."