Packed and ready to go!

 

 

It's just around the corner now, Summer Camp 2024!  Let's review the list:--  I didn't have a pre-camp physical check-up, but I had my last dental work done.  I never gave a thought to sewing little name labels in my clothes – but after all, at summer camp, you might want to invent a new name for yourself.  I suppose my down-at-heels walking shoes could be repaired, but when you have a full box of crayons, what else do you really need?

 

School is out for the little guy next door, and there have been hints of blue sky.  It can only get better.

 

 

There was only one last thing to do – the final piece in the "Minutiae" series, and it popped right out at me two weeks ago.  I'd been invited out to dinner and went looking for a bottle of wine for my hosts.  I know nothing about wine selection but am semi-famous for choosing quirky labels.  I could barely believe it when a HARLEQUIN popped out at me!

 

YES! But first I'd paint it.  I'd had the bottle for three days, planned the layout, and started to paint when I suddenly realized……..this was not Harlequin.

 

It was The Fool from the Tarot Deck that originated in the Middle Ages – by golly, I'll bet those travelling Commedia actors passed their time with these playing cards!

 

Remember my new hero Gino Severini?  From his two Harlequins and wine bottle, you can see why I'd jumped quickly to the wrong identification.

 

Never mind.  Here's the last in the Minutiae series:  "One for the Road" (copyright 2024)

 

On to summer camp!  If it's half as much fun as the one pictured below, where I spent two weeks each in the summers of 1952-54, it will be memorable.  Can you spot my friend A and me?  Not likely – we tended to hang out around the edges, not in this kind of mob scene.

 

No way! We did “Empty Frames” last summer!

My plan to spot minutiae on my birthday excursion to Capilano Suspension Bridge was almost hijacked. I'd barely passed through the turnstile when I saw this new touristy attraction – a big frame for photo-taking.

 

The funny thing is – it reminded me of how much I've missed doing people in movement.  And there were a whole lot of people on the bridge.

 

At day's end, I wondered if "mob scene" might morph into "minutiae."  You see, there had been a funny episode, almost at mid-span. Of course, photos were snapping everywhere (not by me – I was holding onto the railing with both hands).  A couple who were about five feet ahead of me were determined to get several photos of the young woman in various poses sitting on the bridge deck. 

 

Of course, this held up walkers in both directions but these two were undeterred, even as the loudspeaker repeatedly announced, "Please consider others. Take photos quickly and do not block bridge traffic."  Evidently, the two were visiting from the Land of It's-All-About-Me.

 

Eventually, they moved on – and for the next day or two, I tried to immortalize them.  These studies took a while and before long, I realized that with all those people, it could take all summer to develop a painting.

 

 

Well, I would have to look elsewhere for a Minutiae topic.  Conveniently, that day's mail brought a pamphlet from The Dance Centre  – the source of many of my movement studies.

 

Now wait a minute.  Doesn't this print layout suggest……….a frame?!? 

 

There was no option but to give in – and at least satisfy my cravings to get people in motion. Here's the quick finale for "About to Be Framed – Minutiae Series" (copyright 2024).

 

Summer Camp will be here before we know it.  In anticipation, I'm getting my cohort moved outside.  In my childhood, I secretly longed for a garden gnome – are these a little more…. grown-up?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little minutiae goes a long way

  

How's this for an overabundance of minutiae – and wackiness!  The owner must be one of that tribe (favourites of mine), the Creative Packrats.  And it seems "Minutiae" is having a moment as in this current exhibit at the Alberta Craft Gallery.  In any case, this fit nicely with my plans for a short series with that title – to help the minutes pass quickly before I can set off for this year's Summer Camp.

 

Time does fly and since my first post in this series, lots of small impressions have come my way.  Remember the eclipse?  No, I didn't catch even a glimpse, thinking it would be impossible to see above Vancouver's city lights.  But a neighbour showed me a green blur on her phone, a photo she'd caught from her north window, just down the block.  She didn't want me to feel left out (not that I did) so she organized an after-dark walk around the neighbourhood on the second evening.

 

Under escort – her husband with a flashlight, taking his job very seriously – we walked to the higher end of the nearby schoolyard park, where I often stand to enjoy a good view of the mountains on clear days.  No sign of the eclipse – in fact, darker than dark in the northerly direction.   But it was all very magical – walking through the dark silent streets.

 

Next day, I did a quick stint in the studio to produce "Nocturne – To No Avail" (Minutiae series, 2024).

 

 

Despite this year's rain and chill, May rolled out the gifts that I watch for every year.  First, there's my favourite Tulip Tree, shown in a shy bud on the tree two blocks away and then in a vase on my back porch.

 

 

Two blocks in a different direction is a Japanese maple tree with THE most intense red "keys".

 

And then, another intriguing gift of a tree – the Hop-Hornbeam.  I'd known hop vines for decades and was astonished at my first sight of similar flowers on a tree.  Now it's another springtime favourite of mine, with a few flower heads collected for a brief indoor display.

 

Well, how to seize the minutiae of three big trees?  I started with some possible close-ups of flower and seeds.

 

Somehow, as I kept trying to simplify, I was reminded of an eccentric early 20^th-century artist who is having her moment, too.  Double-checking after my sketching session, I at least learned to spell her name -- Hilma af Klint.  A photo of her works on exhibit confirms my recent theory that it's all about size. (Yes, I'm joking)

 

And here's my version of "Gifts from Trees" (Minutiae series, 2024).

 

This is far from what it might have been – despite the fact that the current genie in my studio is Gino Severini, discovered via the Commedia series.  I'll let him chime in – and then sign off with a tip of his bowler hat.  (Does he look "corrugated"?  That happens with cardboard….) 

 "Philosophers and aestheticians may offer elegant and profound definitions of art and beauty, but for the painter they are all summed up in the phrase:  To create a harmony."

 

Counting the days, marking the minutes

 

 

Whoo-hoo!  The celestial phenomena are coming thick and fast this year, with the Summer Solstice arriving on schedule through the Stonehenge window at 20.51 GMT, June 20^th.   That's 1:50 pm PDT here in Vancouver.

 

For those who take a summer vacation, though, the end of the school year seven days later cannot come fast enough. We're wriggling in our regimens, squirming in our seats, twiddling our thumbs, and generally feeling young and restless.

 

Every year, I like to step away from my regular studio production routine and "go on vacation."  Last year, I spent my summer daze, idly in the Adirondack Mountains of New York, gamely imagining what might have filled the carved antique frame of my mother's old mirror.

 

I'm starting to get a hint of a framework for Summer Vacation 2024, but I have a couple of weeks to go until school lets out.  Here's my plan for this interim period:--  I'm going to borrow the counsel of the mindfulness community and be aware as the small elements of the day catch my attention.  Then, for each blog edition, I'll do a relatively simple piece or two, the work of one or two studio sessions, not the full she-bang. 

 

I'll start by breathing deeply and enjoying the view out my northern kitchen window – the mountain expanse that I savour and that just might be gone this time next year when a new 12-storey building blocks my view.

 

Never mind.  Focus on the moment.  Let's start with a concert I attended a couple weeks back – the wonderful musicians of Vetta Chamber Music.  (Scroll down to "Watch and Listen On-Line" for no-charge access to the past season's performances).

 

I attend their concerts at Pyatt Hall where I'm always intrigued by the horizontal and vertical patterns of the remarkable acoustic backdrop – shown here in a promo photo:

 

I'd found my favourite aisle seat, and two more viewers entered the short row, leaving an empty seat between one of them and me.  Just as the lights were dimming, along came a flustered woman who thrust into the empty seat an opulent bouquet… obviously intended for the featured performer.  The woman on the other side was not amused by being poked with the wrappings, and I was not amused as the eucalyptus began to give me the sniffles.

 

There was not much we could do about it as Ms. Fluster had gone on her way – until she almost missed presenting her bouquet at the concert's conclusion.  Not much to do except, after the fact, to seize the moment and produce "In Your Face" – Minutiae Series, 2024.

 

 

In quite a different vein and with any number of magic moments. I took a solo walk the next week along the waterfront at Ambleside, the enticingly named area of West Vancouver where my friend L's gallery is located.  Okay, you've read it here before – it's not actually her gallery, but it might as well be, and they know it and think highly of her.  (So there, Friend L !!).   I was headed particularly for an exhibit that was about to close and the wonderful small bird sculptures that L had raved about.

 

I began near the seawall just below the West Van Memorial Library, and first I sat down to inhale the sea air in a delightful sheltered pavilion – with shadows on the overhead crossbars that mesmerized me.

 

Then, I ambled eastward in a leisurely exploration of the high tide line.

 

And finally, I lingered in L's Gallery and shared her enchantment with the flights of birds.

 

Some days later, all the little bits and pieces, the dots of dark and light, were still on my mind – the shadows on the seaside pavilion, the flotsam of the high tide line, the magic flying flock.  I decided to put them together in one panel.  I began with an atypical approach for me – a palette knife spreading streaks of acrylic medium for a textured surface.

 

With not too much studio time, I produced the final version of "Ambleside."

 

Modest as this is at 7 ½ x 17", it outperforms many pricey professional pieces I've seen in online arts coverage.  Sometimes it's size that counts.  Suppose this were 7 ½ by 17 FEET?   New York galleries, here we come!

 

Okay.  Just kidding.  Meanwhile, the countdown continues.  Just six weeks to go.  And then -- ??

Up, up and away!

 

Yes, it's happening!  -- the wrap party is on, even better and more populated than had been imagined when the original scheme collapsed.   You already know some of the Commedia's "enablers" and some, who I'd failed to mention before, have joined the crowd today.

 

True to definition, they make a motley crew.  They're an odd assortment of individuals united by their common connection to the Commedia tradition – in which "motley" garments are essential to Harlequin and his closest associates.  After rejecting  a formal dinner to honour their contributions, I chose a deliberately informal set-up for the celebration.  I like what I've seen on-line of this wonderful young artist's colours and figures and copied some of her poses.

 

Are you ready for introductions?  Pour your drink of choice -- it might be a long evening; we have a lot of ground to cover – several hundred years' worth. Moving roughly left to right in my final painting, you'll meet first Lynne Lawner.

 

She's an American photographer/scholar, still going strong at 89, and she wrote the most fabulous researched and illustrated book, Harlequin on the Moon.

 

Next up and preceding Lawner by almost a century is Joseph Spencer Kennard – author of over 25 books on Italian culture and history. 

 

A clever man, indeed, since somehow he's managed posthumously to be almost absent from the internet, except for his book sales.  Luckily, this one was available from the Vancouver Public Library:

 

In  it, he writes memorably:

 

"The Commedia dell'Arte is Art and it is Psychology.  It is a theatre of all people, of all arts, of all moments when life wings up out of drab reality.  It is a theatre of music and dance; of song, colour and light; of days on wagon stages, of festivals in streets, in courts, in great squares; on rivers; at weddings and funerals and coronations; of actors with and without mass; sometimes in extraordinary costumes.

            Many of these actors are unknown to fame; many more are immortal.   Paintings, etchings, and engravings have made their faces familiar – diverting, ludicrous, facetious; sometimes grimly, often grotesquely, the Commedia dell'Arte portrays incongruous humanity."

 

Next, a major contributor to Commedia lore – accompanied by his greatest fan.  Maurice Sand single-handedly produced dozens of engravings and paintings that form the definitive illustrations of Commedia performers and their costumes.

 

You've seen many of these before in this series – and they appear and reappear in the Commedia literature.

 

His greatest fan?  Well, of course – his mother, who adored him.  She was the famous French author George Sand, and she arrives at our celebration as a special guest of honour – at an age when Maurice was a young teenager.

 

Another strong imaginative female joins Lawner and Sand in the person of Marjorie Bowen, who you've met before.

 

Now, moving to the right side of the eventual painting, you'll meet (or meet again) some lesser-known figures – but by no means, less known in Commedia archives.  Here's Sebastien Vrancx.

 

A prolific painter and engraver of the late 1500s-early 1600s, he produced hundreds of works, not the least of them concerning Commedia figures.

 

I don't remember how I first came across him, but somehow I put myself on the mailing list of an auction house that every month or so sends me notice that one of his prints is up for sale.

 

Then – beating of drums, sounding of horns – here's my personal favourite find of this series:  Gino Severini.

 

A 20^th century Italian artist, he's responsible for "Two Pulchinelli", the painting on the cover of Lynne Lawner's book.

And then there's – well, this is embarrassing.  In late March, I was enjoying my quiet Saturday shift at VanDusen Botanical Gardens' library.  I've been spending some of each shift touring and listing its rich selection, shelf by shelf, and was interested enough to pull out a book on invasive plants of the Pacific Northwest.  Suddenly – my worlds collided as I found reference to the Puccinellia species of invasive grass!

 

Was I losing my marbles?  When I reached home and searched farther, I found what you've perhaps already realized:-- This was not Pulchinella but rather, the species name derived from the 19^th century botanist Benedetto Puccelli.  Whew!  Close call – marbles found.  Here's dignified Benedetto, who turned up at the Enablers' Celebration by some means or another.

 

Now, on quickly to some formidable early contributors to Commedia lore.  Here's Ottavio Burnacini.

 

And an example of the "grotesques" in which he specialized:

 

Then Claude Gillot.  

 

 And his "Performance by the Commedia dell'Arte".

 

 

Another early notable, Jacques Callot.

 

And his "Pulliciniello."   

 

Yes, the spelling is all over the place, but that's not my doing.   Finally (for this round, at  least) is Giambattista Tiepolo who is practically the godfather of all these white garbed figures who have shown up anywhere with their long-nosed faces.  Here's his "Pulcinelli cooking and tasting gnocchi" – for all you gnocchi lovers out there.

 

Okay, that's the gang.  Here they all are, labelled on a late stage of the painting:

 

And here's the final painting "Motley Crew" (copyright 2024).

 

Certainly, some liberties were taken.  Burnacini, who was right at home in the royal courts of Europe, has been transformed with dreadlocks.

 

And Vrancx and Puccelli are barely suppressing their mutual suspicion.

 

 

But all in all, there's a lot to celebrate – and I salute all these artists, writers, scholars who have led me to be hooked on the history and artistry that enchanted them.