You never know what's around the next corner

 

 

 

Early in the month, I had a bit of a surreal experience.  I was walking to a workshop in an unfamiliar neighbourhood halfway across town and came upon this gorgeous old apartment building.  As I stood open-mouthed, a friendly passerby told me that it dated from the 1920s and had been built as temporary weekday housing for day labourers – who would commute from their (and my) east side Vancouver homes to log the dense forests of the land farther west. 

 

That was surprising enough.  Then I walked on and at the next corner – oh, my – when worlds collide!

 

Isn't he enchanting? 

 

I could find no clues, nor friendly passers-by, to explain it – but it gave me food for thought along the lines of "East meets West."  I've been planning to wrap up the Commedia dell'Arte series in the next while, and I'd been thinking that I hadn't really given Pantalon a fair shake. 

 

He's a hometown boy of Venice – and in the annals of trade and travel, what more international, more East-facing city could there be?  Remember the beautiful Teatro Italia in Venice, now renovated and bustling as a grocery chain store?

 

 

I decided to give Pantalon a full-page spread, standing in front of the Teatro in its glory days and finding someone unexpected around the corner.  And who would that be?  Following Italian explorers around the world is way more time-consuming than tracing the Commedia travelling players around Europe. 

 

How about Marco Polo?

 

 

Remember the speculation, dear to our childhood, that he might have introduced spaghetti to Italy on return from his far-ranging travels to the East? 

 

And we might as well forget Giovanni Caboti – John Cabot, who set sail under England's patronage, aiming for a new route to the East, and landed in Newfoundland. 

 

You do have to wonder, though, if he returned from the "New World" with the culinary treat of Jigg's Dinner with Figgy Duff.

 

I was despairing of making an East-West match when I just happened to see another figure, famous in his own right, one of Japan's lasting gifts to the world.  Not quite in step with Pantalon, he drew and then painted this image when he was 82 years old.

 

You probably know him as the creator the "The Great Wave."

 

 

He signed his self-portrait as Hokusai – the last in a series of names he used for himself, apparently changing his name as he developed his styles.   Yes, a renowned (revered!) Japanese artist would be a great surprise, emerging around the corner of the Teatro Italia – and appropriate, too, since Japan has its own ancient theatre traditions.  Masks have their part…

 

 …and performances of classical (and contemporary) plays in theatres that carry on the traditions of elegant simplicity.

 

Here's the final encounter of Pantalon and Hokusai. 

 

Should we call it, "When Worlds Collide"?   No, let's stick with the original concept, "East Meets West" (Commedia Series, copyright 2024).

 

Doors, windows, masks, corners – who knows what's behind them, what might come next?

 

 

 

Spinning out of control?

 

 

 

It wasn't just my old washing machine that went bonkers in early February, but a whole lot of things ganged up to make me feel ill-focused and – well, spinning my wheels.  For one thing, Harlequin kept nagging at me.  I knew I had to do something big with  him – he was everywhere in my Commedia research and is easily the most recognizable "mask" of his cohort.  Wikipedia describes some of his aspects. 

"His role is that of a light-hearted, nimble, and astute servant, often acting to thwart the plans of his master, and pursuing his own love interest, Columbina, with wit and resourcefulness…. He later develops into a prototype of the romantic hero. Harlequin inherits his physical agility and his trickster qualities, as well as his name, from a mischievous "devil" character in medieval Passion Plays."

You don't have to look far for Harlequin images in any mention of the Commedia dell'Arte.

 

There's even a historic castle in Bohemia with a whole room dedicated to Commedia characters at a masked ball:

 

And in the early 20^th century, a private Italian palazzo was transformed by my new hero, artist Gino Severini, into another Commedia extravaganza.  (Scroll down in the palazzo link past the building thumbnails to read about how Severini was inspired by Picasso).

 

So what about my humbler surroundings in East Vancouver?  I went back to the description of Harlequin's physical agility and thought I might portray him pulling himself out of my new washing machine!  That thought lasted only a few minutes, and I'll blame the whole idea on the video of a friend being liberated from the "frunk" of her family's new electric truck.

 

But still, the idea stuck with me of Harlequin as acrobat – an inevitable connection that comes down through the centuries.

Meanwhile, I'd come across some recent sketchbook notes I'd made after falling for this wonderful book on my Book Club's suggested reading list:

 

One beautiful fossil photograph had inspired a spin-off on VanGogh's "Starry Night", leading me to the idea of eventually doing a whole series of "Figures and Fossils."

 

That's it!!  In my new schema, Harlequin would leap out of the hole in a 415-million year-old plant fossil, my second favourite of the book's photos.

 

I knew I was on my game when that very day (no kidding!), I came across a BBC article on the discovery of the world's oldest fossilized forest, citing among others the author of this spectacular book.

 

All right.  Away we go.  Here's a very early stage before I'd even begun to give our acrobat the face of a greatly missed young neighbour.

 

For those who look for the pet report, yes:-- he has two cats, a lovely costume-fitter wife, two sweet and scampy under-5 year-old kids, and the whole lot of them were evicted by a rule-breaking landlord…and have now moved to Vancouver Island.

 

Here's the final version of "Harlequin Escapes the Past" (Commedia series, copyright 2024).  There's plenty wrong with this picture but with an Ides of March deadline, it was perhaps inevitable.

 

However, one good outcome is that, by taking over the process, Harlequin has "thwarted his master's plans" and demonstrated that a series devoted to "Fossils and Figures" is not really a great idea.

 

Fast-forwarding to the current era, here's another circular basin, this one filled with hellebore flowers floating in water.  This one's for you, L.D., for being such a faithful reader.

 

 

Can spring be far behind -- ?

 

 

No, this is not a flowering spring bulb – but the last magnificent gasp of an indoor amaryllis  bulb that's been part of my support system to beat the winter doldrums.  Another bright spot in the dark days has been my neighbours' Christmas gift – a stunning bromeliad.

 

It's not as if I could really settle into winter torpor with my Commedia pals always offering up a new element in their ever-evolving plot.  Among many things I've learned is that "masks" in the Commedia world mean both the elaborate face coverings and what in English usage we'd call "stock characters" – the subject of this tidy little book I found in the public library.

From this, I first learned that one of the famous "masks" (characters) of the Commedia is Il Capitano.  As Wikipedia describes him:

"He is often a braggart and a swaggerer who can maintain his claims only by benefit of the fact that none of the locals knows him. He is usually a Spaniard…Il Capitano often talks at length about made-up conquests of both the militaristic and the carnal variety in an attempt to impress others, but often ends up impressing only himself. He gets easily carried away in his tales and doesn't realise when those around him don't buy his act. He would be the first to run away from any and all battles."

Il Capitano, as above, was called Captain Spavento.  In another locale with different associates, he became Captain Spezzaferro as shown here:   

 

Partly due to name variations, partly due to rich collective imaginations, there are literally dozens of characters in the Commedia tradition.  

 

For several weeks, I'd been jotting down notes about the characters I might choose, who they might partner with, and how I might portray them.  Reviewing this list early one morning, I thought I'd truly gone bonkers when I read:-- "Il Capitano and Bromeliad."  Well – my own bromeliad was developing handsomely so it was certainly on my mind.

 

Then I remembered that, yes, I'd thought of putting these patterns in near proximity:-- the diagonals and bright yellows and reds of both Il Capitano and ….the bromeliad plant!  All I needed was a neighbourhood subject as model.  Who won the prize for most hooked nose?  A retired high school history and theatre arts teacher whose sweet aging rescue dog seems to be a cross between a German shepherd and a basset hound.  (I've been told the pet reports here are of special interest)

 

So we're off with this early layout.

 

 And moving right along...

I really should have planned the background from the beginning, but I didn't.  And as I neared the finish, I considered again a theatre setting.  Remember that Il Capitano is often portrayed as Spanish – and indeed, there's a tradition of Commedia dell'Arte in Spanish theatre.

 

Briefly I considered adding Salvador Dali to the mix, with his own Dali Theatre and Museum.  But giant eggs as a rooftop architectural element? I don't think so.

 

 

What's more, the route of the travelling Italian players led most directly to Madrid.  There, almost unbelievably, two of the famous "masks" – Il Dottore and Harlequin – are performing on-stage at the Prado, one of the world's most great museums. 

 

This painting, by 18^th century painter Luis Paret – aged 20! – is the first thing you'll see on the Museo's own website. Play around with the plus-minus box on the screen's right and work your way to the lower left corner.  Enlarge the scene and you'll see Il Dottore and Harlequin doing their thing.

 

I had the grandiose idea that I'd add the theatre balconies to my background but achieved only some blotches. I decided to call it a wrap, letting the two colourful acquaintances stand on their own.  Here's the final version of "Hey, Bro' – Il Capitano and Bromeliad" (copyright 2024).

 

What next?  Oh, there's plenty more to come – even if we missed this performance.

 

 

It wasn't Cupid's greatest day

 

 

Oh, dear.  Cupid was about to feature in a commemorative painting when the artist, Commedia wise-guy Mezzetin, slashed his own canvas to release that wiser guy – Harlequin!  It makes you wonder about the originator of this piece, Johann Jacob Schübler, an 18th century architect, draftsman and artist.

 

At least he put me on to the character of Mezzetin or Mezzetino who is described as:

"… an adept schemer and trouble-maker…much more gentle and cultivated, especially in his later life. He is often very musically inclined, and can sing and dance with skill. His character can vary greatly: he can be a loyal servant or simply scheming for his master's downfall…"

My research notes helped me realize that geographically Mezzetin is associated with one of the major Commedia characters – Il Dottore, the doctor.

 

He's a tricky character, too.  (Aren't they all?)

"He is comically inept. He is usually extremely rich, though the needs of the scenario might have things otherwise, and extremely pompous, loving the sound of his own voice and spouting ersatz Latin and Greek."

Both Mezzetin and Il Dottore are associated with the Italian city of Bologna – which of course would have its theatres, just as Venice had the Teatre Italia.  As I searched for a scenic place where they might perform together, I was reminded of a rather silly story brought back from a conference by a medical specialist I once worked for:--  It seemed an eminent surgeon had been flown into a major city to perform a rare and delicate operation.  The hospital sent a driver to meet him at the airport, and the arriving physician called out, "Quick! Quick!  Get me to the theatre!"  -- and he was delivered at top speed, not to the operating theatre, but to the city's famous opera house! 

 

Lucky for Il Dottore, the most beautiful theatre I found offered a more familiar setting.  Here is the city's reconstructed anatomical theatre, originally built for hands-on medical studies.

 

 

This theatre, in fact, was much too beautiful for any high jinks.  I determined to put my actors on their best behaviour – with Mezzetin wielding a paint brush instead of the customary guitar that Watteau placed in his hands.

 

And Il Dottore would stand benevolently by, approving the young man's work, speaking Latin that was erudite rather than ersatz.

 

As I began to develop the scene, I again borrowed a neighbour and a once-weekly shopping pal as models.  Il Dottore is the guy across the street, a sound technician in the film industry, a fond uncle to Pulcinella's rescue cats, and himself the father of……a chinchilla and a boa constrictor.  I am not kidding.  Mezzetin is my favourite young employee at the nearby grocery store.  His claim to unusual fame is that his grandparents live on the Isle of Man – and he was mightily impressed when, after his summer vacation there, I asked if all the island cats were tailless.

 

Things got a little overloaded in this painting – I could perhaps have used J.J. Schubler's help with the architecture.   Here's the final version:  "Their Best Behaviour – Il Dottore and Mezzetin" (copyright 2024).

 

Il Dottore critiqued it helpfully, with the Latin expression  "Ars est celare artem," – "It is art to conceal art" – representing an aesthetic ideal that good art should appear natural rather than contrived. Of medieval origin, but often incorrectly attributed to Ovid.

 

For the last words, though, here's what Mezzetin has to say, via Marjorie Bowen in her play, "Homage to the Unknown."

"...We give to the old memories, to the young hopes, to all another illusion either in the past or the future, and if our benefits are not very substantial we never destroy anything, not even the tenderest, sweetest falsehood. Perhaps you want to know who we are? We do not know ourselves. We have a thousand shapes, a thousand names."