Summer Camp as an Olympic sport?

 

No, I guess not.  They tell me that Break Dancing is at last an Olympic category – but meanwhile, Summer Camp has yielded only a broken dancer.  As we wrap up this year's extended "summer," there have been disappointments.  That very inadequate clay.  The abundance of chilly days that made a grand outdoor papier-mâché splash less than feasible.  And the need to invent an explanation ("It happened") for why this Summer Camp went from July through September, instead of June through August – as it will again in 2025.

 

Olympic medal or not, there was the pleasant surprise of a spontaneous People's Choice Award for "Partial Eclipse."

 

And there was unintended encouragement from the likes of young Italian artist Guilia Cenci.  YES!!! – bring on all those found objects and oversized industrial whatzits.  My found objects are on a smaller scale than Guilia C's, but with this final Summer Camp project, I've come full circle from the tondo that kicked off July.

 

I had a terrific idea for this assemblage and began by gluing the pieces in a flowing design.

 

I then glued lightweight paper over the whole thing.

 

The last step was a lavish paint application and the final photo shoot outside against the garden's greenery. 

 

Alas, this product was not at all the subtly fascinating scene I'd envisioned when I titled it from the outset as "Up from the Earth" – an underground stream bursting from beneath old fallen logs and mosses.

 

In fact, on its completion, the realization came to me that it very much resembled the homemade landscapes and tunnels that a childhood friend's big brother constructed for his very large electric train layout.  (Do boys still do that?  I don't know – but the big brother, now in his early 80s, still has the essentials of that long-ago landscape – to which he added with his own sons).

 

Summary:  Summer Camp 2024 was not at all as satisfying as SC 2023 – but I'm already building a computer folder with topics waiting for next year.   And even though the last project was ultimately a waste of a bunch of perfectly good rusty old bits and pieces – I'm confident that more will come my way.

 

 

More views and lessons learned

 

There's a long, long trail a-winding, and we'll reach the end before long – so let's do a quick review.  First, it was reasonable to assume that Summer Camp would conclude when the kids went back to school – but not so, this year.  By a quirk of the calendar, we'll push through to the end of September. For now, this is the second and final installment of "Seven Views of Grouse Mountain" – if you didn't catch last month's introduction to this series, you'd better check that out first, or this might be incomprehensible.

 

Finally, whether or not you're committed to Summer Camp as a learning environment (and I've tried!), there are lessons small and large along the trail – the title image shows one unforgettable lesson.  I'd decided to use an untouched watercolour block for the seven paintings.  This worked perfectly until I finished the first painting and couldn't separate the glued layers.  One internet search later, I found it was simple, really. There's an inch-long stretch where the papers are not glued, and a sharp item like a palette knife can be inserted to slip around all the edges of the top sheet, as shown.

 

Now, onward and upward!  Following the previous format, I'll show the lead-up to each of my paintings with: -- One of my photographs of Grouse Mountain; a roughly comparable scene from Hokusai's "36 Views"; a somewhat comparable scene from a Group of Seven artist; finally, my attempted emulation of the scene in the manner of that artist.   Here we go --

 

Grouse View #4:  Photo looking across Trout Lake;  Hokusai's "Tsukuda Island in Musashi Province"; J.E.H. MacDonald's "On the Lake Shore Near Bronte;" my emulation.

 

 

 

Grouse View #5: Photo from Canada Place; Hokusai's "Shichuri Beach"; Franklin Carmichael's "Untitled;" my emulation.

 

 

 

Grouse View #6: Photo near the top of Grouse; Hokusai's "Mishima Pass"; Frederick Varley's  "Lynn Valley"; my emulation.  Note that Varley actually lived and worked in Vancouver for a time, and Lynn Valley is roughly at the bottom of Grouse's eastern flank.

 

 

Finally:  Grouse View #7:  Photo of snowy top from East Vancouver; Hokusai's "Teahouse at Koishikawa"; Lawren Harris' "Mountains East of Maligne Lake"; my emulation. (True confession:-- Harris is my favourite of the Group, but you wouldn't know it from this).

 

 

 

 Whew!  That was a journey – which recalls the expression, "running madly off in all directions."  To end on a sober note, let's go back to Lynn Valley and ascend the slope to the east and reach another prominence on our northern skyline – Mount Seymour.  As seen across the rooftops from my north window, it's part of my joy in this vantage point, a ready indicator of time of day, the mood of the weather, and the change of seasons.

 

After 12 years of savouring this little slice of view, I'm experiencing its final months.  Since Summer Camp began, an empty construction site has activated – the orange warning flags were posted, and the big digger sets noisily to work early each morning.  Eventually, a 6-storey building will fill the space.

 

I'm trying to be philosophical and accept one of life's big lessons that needs to be learned – change happens.   Silver lining?  Time will tell.