Back to school and mushrooms...

After a sabbatical year from university I decided it was time to finish my Fine Art's degree. This year I signed up for an introduction to color photography and a specialized drawing course.

Our first photo class was the usual overview of what is to come along with a tour of the photography department and its labs. I was impressed and a bit intimidated with the dark rooms, I will have to put my childhood fear of the dark into the closet for the year.

For our first assignment we were able to use a digital camera (since technically, we are not familiar with the old film standard camera), our assignment was to take a picture in response to someone else's picture, I chose the following photo for this assignment:

As I was walking around in the wood trails, I caught a glimpse of this spiderweb shining in the light, it took me several minutes to get back to the exact spot where I could see it. In trying to shoot the spiderweb, I soon realize that the light has everything to do with it, because if you move a fraction of an inch the web disappears, and if the light changes in anyway from that magic moment, all is lost.

While I was looking at things to capture on camera, I discovered that the past days of rain gave birth to a variety of overgrown mushrooms. Last summer I was amazed at the variety hiding out everywhere in our back woods, obviously this year is no different, except that the mushrooms are much bigger, the perfect blend of rain, warm days and cold nights must of had something to do with it all. So, with my camera on hand, I have been shooting mushrooms all around these past few days, the growth cycle is incredibly fast and from day to day their shape, size and color are constantly shifting.

Then, I saw something original, a bit of green life attached to tree bark, I could not resist it, just so out of place yet owning its space. Nature is amazing.

Fools Gold

In my post A Mid Summer Walk I posted a couple pictures of maple leaves wearing their bright yellow and orange autumn colors, I had been surprised by their brightness and vivacity. Now, a couple of weeks later, I walked that same path only to find the leaves dangling in the same position without any changes  in their forms or coloring, that surprised me even more, I expected them to have fallen or changed to a darker tone, so I took a closer look and touched their stems only to realize that they were fake. I had been fooled.

Someone had played a practical joke on us, nature lovers. They had strategically place those leaves in such a way as to draw attention in their direction. I wonder how many people actually stopped to admire this out of place scenery in the mist of summer. How many took pictures, and how many talked about it? How many noticed they were fake? I really have to wonder about my attention to detail...

Amazing how easily we/I can be fool. Now, revisiting the pictures I took a couple of weeks ago I see the unnatural way in which they have been placed, instead of its original beauty I see the staging and the twisted wiring, this unique moment in time has faded and lost its authenticity. I can only hold on to the memory of my first reaction in sighting the unusual display of the perfect autumn leaf in mid-summer. 

Meet the neighbours

Moving to a new community can be a bit uneasy. It has been a little over two years  since we moved to the country side in a village called Morin-Heights. Making friends has been a slow process because not everyone is so eager to welcome you into their group. The first year we arrived I still had my job in the city; so between work, traveling time and my usual household occupations I did not have much time to reach out to make new friends.

However, because of our dogs we were able to meet some of our neighbors and after posting an ad at the village store, we found this great lady who not only loves dogs but is turning out to be a good friend as well.

The first year flew by, we were so busy with getting settled and other stuff that I never really had time to feel lonely. But, in the second year I lost my job, my first thought was: great I will be able to do all the things I love, and I did, and still do. However, I am a people person and I like socializing, I suddenly came to the realization that I did not know that many people in my area, every time I wanted to see my friends or do an activity I would have to drive over an hour to get there and drive back home afterwards and I would have to organize something for the dogs if I was to be gone for more than 6 hours.

It is always a bit scary to fit in a new place and try to make new friends. Most of us have gathered friendships over our life time and are not always that open to make space for new ones. However, when you move far away from you friends and family, somehow you have to start reaching out and build a new network of friendships. Otherwise, it can get very lonely. 

Fortunately, every year our dog sitter and a bunch of her neighbors get together and throw this summer bash, this year was our second year attending and we met more wonderful people. The funny thing about this gathering is that the one thing everyone has in common is living in the same village. Some have been living all year around while others are only doing the part time thing, weekends and vacations. They all have different backgrounds and come from different places. Not too many are born here. It is a bit strange at first, most of us know a couple people and somehow we gather in little groups and find a click that resembles us.

During the evening I gravitated towards a couple of ladies that share some of the same interests, it is amazing how easily you can connect with people when you find a common ground. When we got to talk about art we just couldn't stop, as it turned out we like to paint and draw, we shared our personal approach to attacking a blank canvas, talked about different classes we took and how we benefited from them. They told me about some local artist's association that I should join, and we talked about the local book club that never has any space open for new members and that we should start our own and invite all the people on the other club's waiting list.



I still miss the city from time to time, especially the revolving doors we use to have when the kids were home. There was always something happening, friends and family coming in and out. I thrived with it all, the array of services available, courses, activities, almost everything was walking distance. Very different in the country side, you need your car for pretty much everything and there are less choices around.

However, this place and time has allowed me to take hold of my life, I have come to realize that you don't have to be busy all the time, that taking it easy and smelling all the different aromas the country air has to offer can be very invigorating. Also, it gave me time to work on some personal projects, and time to realize how much I enjoy writing.

For this new year, I feel ready to meet more neighbors and open my heart to new friendships.

Mid summer walk

I am going to borrow part of a phrase I read in a book called The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton, it is only August and the trees are doing a dress rehearsal before autumn gets here.

I was shocked to see these colors at this time. Here they were just hanging around screaming for attention with their bright yellow and orange dresses. My first time around I only had my cell phone camera with me, I took the snap shot scared they wouldn't be around the next day.



You can't be fooled by their colors they have been hanging around for days now, and today I had the chance to use my camera.

I looked around everywhere to see if I could find more, but there was none to be found. Resigned, I kept on my walk hoping to find more peculiar subjects.

I took more pictures, even some with the dogs. Today I was walking four of them, or maybe they
were walking me.

One of them played a trick on me, the black and white dog is called Paco, somehow he decided that he had enough of walking and disappeared, I spent ten minutes looking for him while going back towards his home. There he was, waiting for us, quietly sitting in front of his house. Since he isn't my dog, I was near panic.

I live in an area where there are 168 kilometers of trails going through hills and over streams, a river and small water falls.  

The habitat is left intact beside the paths that are used for snowshoeing and cross country skiing. The owners of the lands have agreed to allow the town to make these trails and maintain them. This makes our area one of the largest network of trails.

The weather this past year has been harsh and lots of trees have fallen due to heavy wind and storms. Everyday this forest unravels a new scenery to behold.

Sometimes during our walk, I run into this elderly gentlemen, I think he told me he was 83 years old, he gets his fire wood from the fallen trees, I think it is a good idea to harvest the dead trees. He drives around his four Wheeler and a made shift trailer, he says this keeps him busy and out of his wife's hair. That is the secret to a long marriage, a busy husband! 

Walking around with dogs also creates opportunities to meet new people, we met some wonderful people, also dog owners,  that have become friends.



I truly appreciate this closeness with nature, it is very grounding.

FEAR

Every man, through fear, mugs his aspirations a dozen times a day. ~Brendan Francis

Fear is a strange beast, it can either propel you into action or paralyze you. I know certain faces of fear but I don't know them all, you have your fear of failing, fear of getting a bad diagnosis, fear of physical or emotional pain, fear of the unknown, fear of success, fear of death, fear of living, fear of losing someone, fear of spiders, height, and closed spaces; there might be more that I haven't mentioned but you get my drift. Fear can actually induce anxiety or panic attacks.

Personally, I relate to instant fear, the kind that you feel when threatened and even the imaginary fear one creates while wondering what if...However, I have a hard time relating to long term fear, the kind that becomes a life style. The fear that has transformed itself into phobia. How does it happen and why people stay in that state of constant fear?

I have encounter a few people living with constant fear, they are paralyze by it, and yet, they all have so much to offer the world; somehow, they seem to stay in what they perceive to be a safety bubble, a comfort zone, while limiting their options and their lives. I find this difficult to comprehend because it lacks in rationality, yet there are so many people out there living these internal fear, every day, every hour, every minute and every second of their days are consume by it.

There are only two reactions we can have when faced with fear, action or paralysis. I wonder, is it a question of wiring that will produce one of those two reactions, or is it conditioning?

I am no expert on fears beside my own personal experiences. I've always hated being afraid, and from a very young age I battled with all kinds of fears; I was determined to be fearless. I was afraid of water, bridges, darkness, spiders, thunder, height and closed spaces, somehow, I managed to conquer each one of those fears, I have learned how to swim, I have been crossing bridges without giving it a second thought, I am also able to be at ease in darkness, spiders have become ok in my book because they trap bugs, as for the fear of thunder it didn't belong to me it was passed on by my grandmother, she was terrified of it and used to wake me up at night to keep her company waiting for the storm to pass, the fear of closed spaces stemmed from being locked in a restaurant bathroom for over an hour when I was four, I am happy to say that I can manage that one as well. What about height? Well, I no longer qualify it as a fear, it is mainly uncomfortable to be on a ledge looking down from higher up, but I do manage to go up ladders without to much discomfort, but there is something to be said about the pull you feel when looking down, technically it is not the height I fear but the luring of gravity that calls me to the experience.

In my experience, the weirdest of all the fears is the one I try anticipating, fear of something that has not happened yet, but could. A fear that belongs to the world of imagination, conceiving how I would feel if a certain negative or malefic event would happen. When I lose myself in one of those scary imaginary scenarios, I start an internal fight trying to tune out my fearsome thoughts, I try redirecting them before they over power my sense of reason, otherwise I would sink into panic mode. When in panic mode, you have to fight harder, run like hell out of the danger zone. Maybe, I fear getting stuck into panic mode, and that in itself is a strong motivation not to go there.

I endured my share of bad things but it never made sense to me to waste the rest of my life stuck in a timeline of fear for an event or situation that lasted an hour, a day, a week, months, or even years. I like freedom too much to be locked in within my own mind by fear.

I don't know why I am able to shake it off like an old rag, is it because of the uncertainties of my early childhood that I developed some fighting tools to deal with my fears, or is it curiosity that is conquering the fears?

It saddens me to know so many people are living with these limiting fears. I wish there was a miracle cure for fear, that it could be erased as easily as a pencil mark.

Lets not forget that fear can also be a useful tool, but only in small doses.

Here are some interesting quotes about FEAR:

You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith. ~Mary Manin Morrissey

Fear is a darkroom where negatives develop. ~Usman B. Asif

Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood. ~Marie Curie

The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear - fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety. ~Henry Louis Mencken

Many of our fears are tissue-paper-thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them. ~Brendan Francis

Fear is faith that it won't work out. ~Sister Mary Tricky

To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom. ~Bertrand Russell

He has not learned the lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

If a man harbors any sort of fear, it percolates through all thinking, damages his personality and makes him a landlord to a ghost. ~Lloyd Douglas

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death. ~Betty Bender

The way you overcome shyness is to become so wrapped up in something that you forget to be afraid. ~Lady Bird Johnson



I look forward to your comments.

What if? A food revolution

What if we (the people) stopped eating junk food? What would happen? No more chips, colas, burgers, hot-dogs, fries, and all that other stuff considered junk food. Would our economy collapse? Imagine no more McDonald, Wendy's, Jack in the Box, Burger King, Pepsi or Coca-Cola and many other companies or restaurant food chains that promotes JUNK FOOD.

I often wonder what would happen if each and everyone of us was held responsible for its own health, how would that translate in real life. The only free medical care one could access would be for illnesses one had not intentionally provoked. Lets face it, we all know what is, and what isn't good for our bodies, yet we still eat the junk, smoke the poison, drink the alcohol and even do the drugs. We do it knowing that ultimately some of that stuff will bring on diseases or even kill us.

Do we all have a death wish somewhere buried within? Why else do we perpetuate these unhealthy behaviors? Is this what the capitalist world is all about, mass production of junk food that creates bad consumer habits which ultimately is transformed into huge profits for the food, chemical, and pharmaceutical companies?

The money saved on our health care system could be transferred to the education departments and/or the maintenance of our infrastructures.

There seems to be a health consciousness awakening, and this trend is sort of forcing companies to change their product lines to include healthier choices; a trend that includes and focuses on water. More and more companies are getting into the water business, yet for most of us in North America we have access to free water. If we don't like the quality of our tap water we can always get a purifier system, even though our tap water is safe to drink, yet we spend millions of dollars collectively to buy bottled water. Water is a healthy choice for us, but not for the environment since most plastic water bottles end up in landfills.

When I was a kid there were water fountains in all the parks, government buildings, and many other places. What happened to those? Now days, some parks will even have a food stands (offering junk food) or vending machines where you can also buy water bottles for $2.00. How crazy is that?

I believe that if we collectively improved our diets this would have a profound effect on society as well, because usually a healthy body will host a healthy mind. There would be less diseases related to bad eating habits, less people in need of medical attention, therefore less prescription drugs and less chemicals going down the drain. Remember that prescription drugs, because of their chemical composition, will remain in our water systems for a very long time therefore affecting all living organism.

I know there are a lot more issues in this world then our eating habits but we have to start somewhere, and think, how can you change the world if you are sick? Our first responsibility is to ourself, we should all treat our bodies with respect.

By the way, I do break down and eat junk food from time to time but I try not to make a habit of it. Moderation is the key.

Food for thoughts!

Hockey Mahem

I have three kids, two boys, one girl; they all played hockey and other organized sports. However, hockey has always been the most violent sport they ever played, and they often came home with cuts and bruises. I was a hockey mom, spent all my weekends in one arena or an other, we traveled all over the province for tournaments, and both my boys are still playing.

In his teenage years, my oldest son got so badly injured that the doctor said that if he received an other blow like the one that nearly paralyzed him he might never walk again. Later on during try outs he fell and someone skated on his hand cutting it wide open; again he needed medical attention, and did not make the Triple A Junior league that year. Consequently, he decided to quit hockey because he thought his health was more important than the game since he wasn't going to make it as a pro.

A few years later, both my sons got together and started a team within a garage league. Most players are in their late twenties and have full time jobs, they love the game and still want to play. However, there is always one guy that forgets that this is for fun and uses the ice to unleash his frustrations, usually using unnecessary violence.

A few days ago, Shawn got hit from behind in the last three minutes of the game resulting in a very serious knee injury, he left the game in an ambulance while the player who hit him ran away to the changing room and left without even an apology. Shawn's knee was so swollen they couldn't tell how bad the injury was, fortunately after a few days it seems that it is a very bad sprain or minor torn ligament, meanwhile he has to miss a few days work without pay, and no hockey for a month.

I am told that the person who hit him will be expelled from the league. I don't know if it is because I am a woman that I don't get the violence in sports. Hockey is such a great game when it is played fare and square, when skating and handling can almost be an art form within the rules of the game. For all the non professional hockey players out there, remember that there are no million dollars waiting at the end of the game, no compensation plan to support you and your family if you should get disabled while playing your favorite sport. Remember you are playing because you love the game, you love the physical exercise you get out of it and the beers that follow.

Above all remember that everyone has a life, family and friends waiting afterwards, and that no one deserves to leave a game on a stretcher.

Play safe!

Free Styling

These two paintings are more about Enlightenment of the Soul. I had no general idea about the direction the first painting was going to take, I did it on automatic pilot, I did not think it through, it was free styling.

Some people mentioned the color pallet of Gauguin, and yes the bright colors are sort of Gauguinish, I never consciously thought about it. Exploring with effects and the texture of acrylics, acrylic paint can be a fun medium to play with, its fast drying and its interaction with either water or gel medium can be challenging. I particularly enjoy some of the accidents that can happen when you over work an area, it can create some particular effects.

These two pieces were more of an exercise to open the channel of creativity. Amazing surprises can emerge from freedom of expression. Not over thinking or analyzing the intention of a piece is liberating. The first piece above really express that freedom of gesture and expression, you can see in the second piece that the mental interfered with the flow and that it is more static. Even though I was working with the same pallet the brush strokes are more controlled, like I am trying to impose an idea or a direction to the piece.

When you are in that special creative zone, in that moment without expectations, things happen. Then as you let the mental or ego come in your special place, it starts to shrink and it translates by altering your brushstrokes.

I love those special moments and I cherish them, instinctively I am also more attached to those pieces that have been created from it. I wish there was an automatic button I could push that could take me there every time I pick up my brushes.

I look forward to my next ZONE IN...

STUFF and MORE STUFF

Haven't really thought about space

Because growing up, I had none

Lived in a 1 bedroom apartment

with Grandma and her brother

He had the only bedroom

While I shared the sofa with Grandma

I didn't mind, didn't know better

Now that I am thinking about it

I find myself wondering

Where did she put my stuff

I must of had stuff, I was a kid!

I don't remember having a dresser.

We had a couch, a television set, a kitchen table

an end table and where was the rest of the stuff?

All in One big closet?

We lived there for 3 or 4 years

Then we moved to a bigger place

3 bedrooms

my first time having my own bedroom

so I thought...

But she wouldn't have it.

Got twin beds in the one bedroom

Her brother got the other one

She closed off the spare bedroom

Cutting cost down on heating.

Privacy? I never had it.

Stuff, I could not keep any.

Eventually, I moved out.

I had no clue and no stuff.

Then over the years

After 3 kids, stuff happened

Lots of stuff...

Then they moved out

Gave them their and some of my stuff

I finally got a big house

Filled it with lots of books and more stuff

Got 2 dogs to replace the kids

Now, there is just too much stuff

To many books, to many papers, clothes

Knick knacks, art supplies and whatever else.

Not a hoarder just a keeper.

I have a box full of Special Occasion Cards

Given to me or the kids, 30 years worth,

All my journals since I was 12,

Boxes of pictures and many photo albums,

My grandma's and my mother's albums

A drawer full of pens, pencils and whatever,

A couple boxes of various papers and odd things,

I hope to use in a special project, like collage or something.

I hang on to things just in case...

I always think I may need it one day.

I managed to give or throw away some of it,

but somehow, other stuff finds its way to my house.

Am I making up for all those years

Of no stuff?

I love my stuff, my books, my art supplies, the pieces of rope,

the jar of buttons, plastic bands, my journals, the pictures, my knitting kit,

and every single objects I have collected over the years.

So why is there a part of me that wants to get rid of it all?

Maybe there is a part in me that misses the lightness of having no stuff...

Graffiti Wall, Maybe...

A bit of foolishness in the air, I decided to just let go and see what would come out of it, and there you have it: Graffiti Wall, Maybe. I know it is far from conventional graffiti and furthermore it is on a canvas and not on a real wall.

I just decided to play with it, incorporated words with Stick Man and Stick Woman along with Stick Dog, why not? Butterflies and music notes. Somehow the colors are pleasing to the eyes and the content draws you in so you can find some details or messages.

Just a fun piece to loosen up with so I can go back to the serious stuff. Now, what does it mean...serious stuff? There are so many artists out there trying to break through, so many different styles and original ideas, sometimes it makes me wonder why I am doing this, and what will become of it all.

Looking at other people's art work will either inspire and/or intimidate my creative juices. I wonder how far creativity can take us, what will we come up with next. I decided to challenge myself and spend more time with my paint and brushes and see where it will take me.

At this point I haven't found my signature or style, still in an exploration mode. I want to experiment with collage, I have been accumulating bits of papers of all kinds hoping to use some of it for that purpose. There are so many things lying around dormant in either boxes or drawers waiting to be used, so many ideas have come and gone because I did not write them down.

Mental note: WRITE THINGS DOWN and TURN OFF THE TELEVISION (forever if you can...)

Field of Iris'

Revisiting an unfinished project can sometime be a good thing. I forgot this work for months, lost interest and although it called to me from time to time I would not touch it. It seems like I needed to take my distance from it, I had to wait for that moment when it just clicks into place, and you just know instinctively what to do.

I've tried to capture the essence of the painting with my camera, but somehow it doesn't do it justice, meaning it doesn't allow the painting to pull you in like the original canvas does. I don't believe it to be a master piece but somehow you would feel an emotional charge coming through. I don't usually paint flowers, this is my first time, and I found it to be quite a challenge, so much so that I have a second one in the works.

I have put aside the forest because I can't seem to make up my mind about which season it will depict, everyday I walk by it and I know that my sub conscience is picking up its vibes and analyzing what's missing or what needs adjusting, it will work its magic and eventually delivered its findings so I can act on it. I had several unfinished paintings in my basement and this past week I brought them all up in my studio, they had been down there for so long that I had forgotten some of them.

There are no links between them, some were assignments and never really spoke to me. Actually, the spontaneous creations always seemed better executed and have an energy charge that the assigned work seems to lack. However, when I revisit them with a fresh eye, without the pressure to deliver I will either change the painting completely or make some subtle changes that somehow will make the difference, meaning that I will feel content with the end result. This is what happened with the Field of Iris', I am content, satisfied with the outcome, I can let it go.

Funny thing, it used to be easy to let go of my paintings because I felt that if I let them go I could just create more, somehow it seems a bit harder these days must be because of that long halt, months without touching my brushes, no desire or need to. Now it is different, I see and imagine colors and shapes in my head again. That feels good...Next step will be for my paintings to find a new home where they will be appreciated and loved. Consequently, I will have to work on the next generation.

Being remembered, does it matter?

I have been thinking about what pushes me into action, like why do I paint or write, is it because I feel the urge to leave some kind of Legacy, a sign that I was here, that somehow I mattered?

I heard Jean Pascal the Boxer on a radio talk show, and he said "some people read or write about history, I want to make history!" Obviously not everyone is called to make history, some of us disappear leaving nothing behind. It is a bit like if a tree falls in the forest did anyone hear it? What compels us to leave our mark, and what if the world ends, then who would remember any of us then? Does it matter?

In some ways this urgency to leave our mark propels us to action, to create or do something that we hope will last the passing of time. Our ego needs recognition and appreciation, this makes us believe we are worth it, it boosts our self-esteem.

This brings me to my family, I remember my grandmother and some stories about my great grandmother, but really, I know nothing of her family and friends, none of them did anything worth remembering them for in history books.

I have my grandmother's old pictures in a box, filled of her people that I don't know and, there is no one left to tell me about them, none of them made history, yet I am sure they wanted to leave a Legacy or be remembered like the rest of us.

They only came to life when my grandmother and her siblings would tell stories to each other about them, I am afraid that back then, when I was young, I lost interest during some of the story telling because I did not know them. Today I wish I had paid attention.

One of my great aunt was exceptionally good at story telling, but her stories were mostly make believe, she lived in a magical world of her own, and I loved her for it. She made my every days special days, she would foretell how my day would unfold, how I would go to the pond and run into a frog, how I would build castles in the sand, and play house outside with some old blankets and chairs, or how I would play cowboys and Indians with the neighbor's kids. I was in awe that she knew all that I would do before I even knew it. She did not make the history books, but she lives in my memories, memories I have to share of this incredible joyful woman that made living a fun adventure.

She was an animal lover and she talked to them, somehow they seemed to understand her. She would talk to birds and would give them rides on the clothes line. She would guide the bees to pollinate certain flowers. She even had a pig as a pet that followed her around. She was the clown of the family, I remember a certain car ride with her, my grandmother and their friends, she had us all in stitches we were laughing so hard, she was the light of the party and she did not even drink.

Nora liked to cook and bake and she liked having her family around her table. She made her own jams and pies to the delight of all. And, one of her money making hobby was to pick up worms to sell to the local fishermen. She would leave with her sun hat, her bucket and her shovel and walk into the cow field and dig for the wiggly worms. Also, during the strawberry harvest season she initiated me to the art of strawberry picking, I worked along side of her on our neighbor's strawberry farm. My aunt would sing and make jokes as we worked to the delight of everyone in the field. These were the best summers ever.

There were people in my life I wish my children had the chance to meet and know because they made my life so much more happier. Aunt Nora was one of them. You can see her on the left of the black and white picture, I am sitting next to her with my grandmother and my brother, my fifth birthday. And, in the color picture she is holding my son, unfortunately she left us not long afterward.



I guess it is up to me to keep my family history alive by writing about it so that my children can learn about all those incredible people that have shaped our family.

Northland

This is one of my favorite paintings from Tom Thompson, it is currently at the Museum of Fine Arts in Montreal.

The setting is a scene of a forest surrounding a lake, it depicts a virgin forest with no human imprint. Maybe that is why a birch tree is lying amidst the standing forest on the edge of a bed of rocks, knocked down by the force of nature. Through the forest beyond the lake we see the continuity of the forest around it.

The predominance of red, orange and ochre tones used for the leafage covering the rocks and parts of the trees sets the tone of an autumn scenery. There are no symbols or anything suggesting anything else than what it is, a representation of a forest at a specific point in time.

The artist has used both warm and cool colors just like fall, cool and colorful. The mixture of red and orange tones of the autumn leafage that are spread across the bedrock in the forefront guides us into the painting. Inviting us to go deep into the bright birch forest, the artist is using a mixture of beige and pink colors for the trees, making them stand out by their lightness in contrast with the predominant red, orange and ochre tones against the dark blue lake. By using this same mixture of pinkish beige Thompson leads us around the dark lake forcing us to fallow its shore line in a circular movement, there is a faint repetition of the red and orange tones on the far shore of the forest. The intensity of the colors and his choice of palette are reminiscent of the Fauvist period.

There is a great balancing act in the composition and his usage of colors. He reintroduces the blue of the lake in the forefront to enhance the rocks or maybe it could be thought to be the shadows of unseen trees.

The open composition allows for our imagination to see beyond the canvas, you can picture the lake and the forest extending on for a distance on either side of the canvas, or imagine the forest behind you casting shadows on the forefront, you know there is more to the place.

The harshness of the light suggest that the artist chose a direct pointed light source that would explain why the trees are so sharp and seem to reflect the light. Thompson is successful in creating an effective contrast effect with his usage of the dark and intense hues. This effect is even more apparent as you back away from the painting, the trees appear to be white and as you get closer your eyes detect the subtleness of the light pink against the darker shades.

Thompson was born around Claremont, Ontario on August 5^, 1877. Although he started to draw and paint at an early age, he only took to painting seriously in the year 1912. His first trips to the Algonquin Park inspired him and he produced hundreds of small sketches of the region. Many of Thompson’s major paintings began as sketches before expanding into large oil paintings.

His paintings are an acquired taste, as you revisit his work and really pay attention to the details and the color choices, you really get a sense of the artist's passion and you can't help but feel it. Writing about a painting forces us to go beyond the imagery, it helps us notice the subtleness and the technicality used by the artist, questioning certain brush strokes, looking for a clue as to the initial approach. It is bringing us closer to the process while trying to unmasked its secrets.

I would suggest you try this exercise and see if it will change the way you initially looked at a particular painting.

Patience and painting

I don't usually put this much effort in to a painting, but for some reason this particular one is a never ending process. Each time I go for a walk in the woods I notice something more, this year the forest has undergone some major transformation in its landscape. It is chaotic, disorderly. No one has tempered with it, broken trees and branches are all over its leave carpet, the wind has done a lot of damage to the weak and fragile trees.

Consequently I am learning about patience through my brushes, I am learning focus in order to achieve a texture or a specific result. The act of painting lets me be in the moment, the focus lets me forget about the mundane stuff and the whole teaches me patience.

An ongoing project, I can't count the time I have spent over this canvas subtracting or adding shapes and colors. Will it be what I hope it can be once it is finish? I don't know if I can bring out its full potential but I won't stop trying.

I have other pieces on the go, but none inspire me like this one. I am drawn to the forest, I get lost in it. The abundance brought forth by nature, the continual renewal of life every spring is a strong motivator. Even with the destruction left by the force of winds gives it charm and creates a new tableau. Every time something is moved or broken it opens a door for a new beginning, moss, mushrooms, and insects will take over and create a new image with the broken or dead. Patience, for everything transforms, everything changes, we just have to wait for it.

On an other note, while going trough a book on Impressionists I fell into a Renoir painting called "Trees in the forest of Fontainebleau" that was done in 1860. The simplicity of it gives it power, yet the light is divine. Renoir was able to give it life, or should I say a soul, this is what I would like to achieve in my paintings.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day is more than just an other commercial holiday, yes I know it is a great business day for the flower industries, restaurants, and any other businesses catering to women. But, most of all it is one of those special days where your family gathers together to remember and create special moments.

I have been blessed with three great kids that are now on a journey of starting their own families. This year we have a new addition to our family, baby Brooke was born last March and soon, around November, there will be an other addition.

Today was a reunion of mothers, grand-mothers and mothers to be, we celebrated together what it was and is like to carry a child within, to give birth, to watch his or her first step, to dream all that is possible and to love like you could never imagine you could. Yes today was a special day, one of those days when you feel proud, a day to be happy, grateful to be alive. This is a day when you make time for the people you love. Yes, I know, we shouldn't wait for a specific day to do that, however our fast paste living swallows us up and turns us into robots, sleep, eat, work, eat and back to sleep. We had to invent a bunch of holidays to remind us that we are alive and that we have families and friends we love but hardly spend time with. I wish we had invented more special days.

A great day, yes it was!

Painting in progress

Ok, it has been a while, but here I am again playing with paint and brushes. This time I decided to tackle a forest, my forest, the one in my backyard where I go and walk for hours with my dogs Charlie and Fanny.

I took an old canvas 40" X 40" and covered it with the base colors to cover the old image. From there I sketched some trees and made the composition with oil pastels and oil paint.

I was on a roll, I kept adding colors and trees and ground leaves, but I sort had a mix of a summer autumn scenery. So I redid the top part by covering it with more skies and branches, I want to go towards softer tree tops and more texture.

This is where I am at, a bit stuck.




I've worked out the bottom and somehow I have to blend it with the top...More to come.

Midnight thoughts

It's 1:40 and I can't sleep, I ate chocolate and had some wine, and lets not forget the brownies! I am sensitive to chocolate, caffeine and alcohol, somehow these substances seem to activate my thought process, and the more I think the more awake I get. Usually, I stay in bed hoping I will dose off, and this can go on for hours. However, tonight I decided to share my thoughts on aging.

Some kids are eager to turn eighteen, I wasn't one of them. It actually scared me, it meant that I had to become responsible and enter the adult world. The only cool aspect was that I could drink without worrying about being carded. Then the twenties have come and gone, I fell in love, got married, had kids and got a divorce. A few relationships later and I am in my forties. Still I think I can do it all, and yes, the forties is the best sex phase of your adult life and you do hope it will last forever. However, it doesn't.

You cross over the fifty yard line, and you feel these little changes happening, sometimes they are so subtle that you forget about them, but they are persistent and manifest themselves in the form of aches and pains that get to scream louder as the years pass by. So you start wondering if it is your diet, must of had too much sugar, or maybe the food was too greasy...should of taken my calcium and glucosamine!

You start reviewing your life and sometimes you don't like what you see, some say we should not have regrets, I don't know why they say that because I regret a lot of things, sure everything I did up until now has shaped who I am today, but still I regret not knowing who I truly was. And, because of that identity crisis I regret some of the crazy choices I made. However, I do have a bag full of stories. Maybe my stories are a bit crazier then some, a bit weird and unusual, sometimes even funny but, I can't say they are worth the "no regret" saying.

My biggest regret is not asking more questions about my family's history or maybe I should say my family's stories. Now I would like to know how my aunt Nora met uncle Jedeon, and why I never new she was an alcoholic until my uncle got sick and died. Why she felt she had to lie to him every time she bought a new piece of clothing, she would say "That old dress, it's been in my closet for years, don't you remember it, I wore it to so and so's wedding" or "I borrowed it from my sister", she had an open account at the New York Fashion store and she sold fishing worms to pay it, she would take off to the fields with her shovel and bucket and turn cow dungs over to rake the harvest. I can still see her in her black skirt with her sun hat and her rain boots digging for those wiggly worms...what a sight! I wonder why no one took a picture of her that way.

I wish I had asked more questions about my great-grandmother, about how it was for my grand-mother to be a single mom in the nineteen thirties. I did ask a lot of questions, however, they were not the questions I would of ask today, and back then adults did not answer all.

I wish I had taken more interest in my mother's family and visited them more than once a year, I wish they had taken more interest in me.

I wish they hadn't been so wrapped up in their secrets and shared their real emotions, their fears, their anger and their love. I feel that most of my life I was missing pieces of information that would have explain their behaviors, I am sure this would have calmed some of my anxieties. Instead, I wondered what was wrong with me.

They all died, my mom, my dad, both my grandmothers, my grandfather, my great uncles and great aunts and my aunt...and most of them died with their secrets.

So what does it all have to do with aging? Well I guess it is about knowing you won't live forever and wondering if you did anything that anyone will remember after your dead. It's about going through an identity crisis at fifty five because you still don't know what you want to do with the rest of your life.

It is about watching older people waiting their turn to die while they lose one more friend or family member in the waiting process. It is about choice, choosing to age miserably or gracefully. It's about knowing that the clock always goes forward and that somehow you have to eat more vegetables and less sugary stuff. It is about relationships, about loving and being love, about listening and sharing your stories. It is about being afraid of illnesses, about fear of needing help, fear of dependency.

While I was growing up I thought my grandmother was the strongest women on the planet, then one day she was eighty and she seemed weak, fragile and needy, and that scared me. In my defense, I was young and did not yet understand the cycle of life.

Birth, growing pains, bliss, aging pains, death. It is as simple as that.

Why should you keep a journal...

I started to keep a journal at thirteen, I felt the need to confide my feelings and my thoughts down to paper. I did not know it then, but by doing so I provided a useful map to a better understanding of myself.

I kept all my journals, and sometime when I am trying to remember certain things or events in my life they serve as reminders. However, they were most useful at showing me the repeating patterns I have created over my life time. When you put something down on paper you can not deny its existence, especially when you are the author of both your life and journals. By realizing these life patterns through my journals, I embarked on a journey of changes. After all, if you keep doing the same things you have always done then you will always get what you've always got. At some point in a life there are only so many lousy outcomes one can take. On the other side, you hold on to the good stuff.

My journal was my confident, it was where I made sense of it all. Ok, I must admit that some of the entries I made as a teenager were lacking in depth (and some of my adult entries didn't make the Hall of Fame either), yet when I read through some of the passages I wrote, I can find a window looking into my emotional state. Like all teenagers my feelings were raw and I didn't understand the mechanics of it all. I rediscover the naive girl I once was, the dreamer, the idealist and, the artist.

Through the years a long list of joys and sorrows are filling the pages. Agony of the heart going through a painful breakup. Loneliness, misunderstandings, judgments, and self-pity, you find it all. The joy of achievements, the joy of motherhood and its mishaps, the doubts and the courageous decisions, the unconditional love, the passion and the dark side of the soul. It is not a novel, but it is a life.

Through journal writing grows a better understanding of the self. Sometime it can force you to take a good look at yourself and realize the different dimensions you carry within yourself. It allows you to choose the parts you want to invest in, or better comprehend. It is a Legacy to oneself, a precious gift. One that will help you remember your journey through an overstuffed memory bank that your brain will become over the years.

Loosing jobs to technology

Lately I have been seeing things a bit differently, for instance as I am watching television there is an ad about getting "movies on demand" directly from your living room couch. I imagine most of us would think it a great idea, no need to either walk or drive to the video store, no need for returns either and, most but not least, no late fees! However, when I think about it I wondered how this would affect the people at the video store in our village, I believe there are 5 people working there including the owner.

During my last visit at the video store, I chatted with the owner about how her business had changed these past years, and she was sad to say that she was loosing a bit more each year and she might have to close shop sooner than she thought. Between the downloads and the on demand movies from cable providers her shop has lost ground. Consequently, our community will soon lose its only video store and 5 people will have to look for a job. But it is not only the small shops,the big guys like Blockbusters are also losing grounds.

This is a trend that is affecting so many different spheres of the work force that one wonders how long it will take before the majority of us find ourselves out of jobs.

It has affected my family directly, for twenty five years my husband was a photographer specializing in artist's portfolios and art work reproduction, trough trial and error he perfected his craft to get the right lighting, composition, angle and mood. He could make an art work look even better than the original.

He tried to keep up with the times and invested in new equipments and new technologies. However, while he thought he was investing in his business, his client base was dwindling. After several years of upgrading he was actually using his savings to keep his studio open. What happened? Progress and simplified digital photography for all and, most of his clients started doing their own shooting. It did not matter that the end results weren't technically perfect, hey, they didn't have to spend money on a photographer!

Most of our friends in the profession are turning to other avenues to earn a living, for some the transition was not so bad but for others it was very difficult.

Then their are all those small shops that used to make a town or a village, they gave character to the main streets. People got to know each other, it was colorful and lively. Now, most of these places are replaced by Corporate Stores, convenient but without soul. Where cashiers are slowly replaced by self check cashiers, where the service clerks are replaced by scanners or computers. These Corporate Stores are becoming one stop shop all, from groceries to clothing and car parts too medication, no need to go on main street. Consequently, small shops are closing or have to specialize.

Is technology slowly killing the work force, now I find that a bit scary since we all need money in this world to sustain ourselves. So, how will we earn a living if machines and technologies are doing the work? They say that the service industries will be our future, but how many services can we provide to sustain our ever growing population? And, who will be able to pay for them if the majority of people are working at meaningless jobs at minimum wage salaries?

If you watch the news then you can see all the destruction that mother nature is inflicting on all the different areas of our planet. If this keeps up, I wonder how long the Insurance Companies will be able to stay afloat, and how long the governments will be able to provide financial relief to the victims? And how technology will be able to help the global financial crisis for all of us to benefit?

I wonder how many of us will be able to reinvent ourselves to find suitable employment or start a new business. I guess only time will tell if we can continuously innovate our economic growth, or will we have to change our ways to survive this new century.

I wonder if cable tv and all its new channels are not design to hypnoptize the global populations into inertia? In a positive note the broadcasting industry is providing work for a lot of people. However, when the rest of us will be out of work and run out of money...who will be watching? No money, no cable, and so on...

Other promising jobs are in health care (as long as we have health insurance), then the legal sphere and lets not forget new technologies because we need smarter phones, computers, cameras and whatever else. Lets face it, we can not stop progress, but it would be nice if progress could serve us all better. For each new thing we come up with; we create a new problem...

All of this leaves me wondering...what is next?

One day surgery

These past few months have been enlightening about our health care system. Beside a common cold or flu, and a few stress related tensions, I did not need particular medical attention. My yearly check-ups were mainly routine, more preventive than anything.

Then we moved from Montreal to a small village in the the Laurentians, only an hour away from the big City, but a long way if you want to see your family doctor. Anyhow, the commute from the village to my work place would take on average about 3 to 4 hours a day, I never thought this would add to my stress level but it did.

Consequently, I started having some digestive problems, and I started getting these real abdominal pain attacks on a regular basis, mainly at night which meant I did not sleep much. My family doctor gave me a referral to see a gastrointestinal specialist. Each specialist I called had a waiting list of 2 to 6 months for the first appointment. So, I got myself on several lists and finally got an appointment within six weeks. However, before seeing the specialist I had a major painful attack and I went to an emergency clinic in St-Sauveur in the morning around 7:30 only to find out that they were already full, they sent me to the next one in Ste-Adele, same scenario, so I went to Ste-Agathe Hospital where there was a 17 hours waiting period, my case did not seem urgent enough to be bumped ahead; I was in so much pain that the nurse told me to go to Red River Hospital, "there's usually no one there, if you don't mind driving 45 minutes" she told me. (I should specify that if you want to see a doctor at the emergency clinic, you have to be in line by 6 am.)

So, I went to Red River Hospital where I was seen within 2 hours of my arrival, I left with several referrals, one for a scan, another for an ultrasound and some major blood works. Now, getting an appointment for the ultrasound and scan is an other story unto itself, but I am resourceful and again got myself on several waiting lists at different facilities, got the tests done within 1 month, by then I had my appointment with the specialist for my stomach and had to go for a gastroscopy. By the way, if you put yourself on several waiting lists don't forget to cancel the appointments so other people don't lose their turn.

It turned out I had gallbladder stones and an inflammation in my digestive system, nothing major but it took 6 months to get to the bottom of it all, first they had to monitor the inflammation, fortunately that disappeared on its own (I took a sick leave from work, my work related stress level went down, I believe that is how I got rid of the inflammation).

I just had my gallbladder removed this week, I stressed over it for months. The idea of getting a piece of my body cut out was terrifying, Although many people shared their experience of gallbladder removal which did not sound so bad, I was still terrified.

This adventure started in August, and I just had the surgery this week on January 25th. I know, it wasn't life threatening, but this six months of tests and pain was very stressful, when you don't know what is wrong with you, your imagination can provide you with a multitude of scenarios that can be pretty scary. Over all, this waiting game affected my life in myriads of ways. Personally, I wish we could have access to first line care quickly, this would probably diminish the possible stress/strain related illnesses caused by the unknown, this "unknown limbo" can be scarier than the disease itself.

Anyhow, I was fortunate enough that the inflammation disappeared on its own, and the only thing left was to remove my gallbladder.

"My One Day Surgery", you go in the morning at the designated time, and you are out the same day a few hours after the surgery. I was surprised at how efficient the system can be when everything is in motion. You register like in a hotel, they set you up in a cubicle and help you prepare, then I was moved to pre-op where I met with a nurse that double checked my identity and the nature of my surgery (they don't want to remove the wrong parts, a good safe guard to have in place), a few minutes later my surgeon came to talk with me and asked if I had any questions, next I met the anesthesiologist and we went through my medical history, afterwards they wheeled me into the operating room where I was surrounded by the very comforting operating team. From that point on, all I remember is the anesthesiologist telling me she was giving me a welcome cocktail and to let her know when I would start to feel heavy, the heaviness came quickly I tried telling her but I was gone.

Strange how you are totally cut off from the world under this drug cocktail, you surrender yourself completely they could chop you up in little pieces and you would not even know it. When I woke a couple of hours later I had no idea what had been done, except that I still felt heavy and the last thing I wanted at that point was to get up and go home. They don't rush you out, but you know that your welcome is limited and, that eventually you will have to leave. I was given a couple of pages of information on the operating procedure and what I could expect afterwards, side effects and stuff, what was normal or not.

Now I am on day four, and I feel much better. The first forty eight hours are the worst, you still feel the anesthesiology's aftermath lingering on, and the pain slowly comes back to the surface, fortunately they give you pain killers. So, for the first forty eight hours you are basically out. Then, on day 3 you feel like you are regaining some control, you realize that the pain has dulled out and that you don't need to fight it chemically anymore. Day four, your bodily functions reboot and your head is much clearer.

Still, after this semi minor surgery, I come out of this experience thinking that it is better to prevent than to fix an illness. I feel for all those people that have to undergo any type of medical intervention, it is a time when you feel vulnerable and, whether you like it or not, you have to surrender to others to nurse you back to health if possible. Fortunately, the staff at St-Jerome's Hospital was amazing and very compassionate. Even better, I got to find out how good my husband is as a caregiver, a cook and a housekeeper, I sort of forgot over the years while I took over. A blessing in disguise, I don't have to do it all, all the time!

Still, the best gift we can give ourselves is to treat our body with respect and behave in a responsible way towards it by doing whatever is necessary to stay healthy for as long as we can. And, last and but not least, we should be grateful, always.

Change

“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”Maria Robinson

My life has been about change. From birth until now, I have been in a whirl of changes. As a child change was forced upon me, as a teenager I embraced it by challenging everything and everyone around me. In my early adulthood I had no directions and no models to follow, therefore my scatterbrain was on hyper alert and with that I made a lot of strange choices that constructed my forever changing life. I won't call my choices bad because some good came of it, they became learning experiences.

One year, I moved seven times, my discouraged girlfriend said "I will need a new address book just to keep up with you." An other year, I changed job about 6 times, talk about lacking stability. I had no goals and no idea who I was or what I wanted to do or be. No sense of self, thanks to those early formative years when no one thought it was important to provide a stable environment for a child. My parents did not have that parenthood bone in them, they were self centered and too emotionally screwed up to raise their kids. So my brothers and I were raised in three different environments. Our parents eventually grew up themselves and made amends, but by then I was in my thirties with kids of my own and struggling to find an identity for myself and my family.

For years I worked in the restaurant industry as a waitress to the dismay of my grandmother who used to freak out every time someone would ask me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I would say candidly "a waitress" and my grandmother would slap me behind the head, she had better plans for me. But, how could she fight with the only happy memories I had of my mother, since the only time I got to see her in my early childhood was when my grandma took me to the restaurant where my mother worked as a waitress until she moved across the country three thousand miles away.

Anyhow, eventually I tired of the restaurant industry and enrolled in an "Office automation course" meaning a secretarial course, this turned out to be a rough ride, but I made it through the intensive 18 months of classes, to finally graduate and find an entry level job that lead me to grow within the company I worked for. Through the fifteen years I worked there I was a receptionist, an administrative assistant, a coordinator, a buyer, a production manager to finally end as a sales representative. This company and its people became my second family.

So, when I reached my forties I still thought everything was possible, I wonder, is forty the midlife part or is it fifty? Either way, now I am faced with more changes, recently unemployed (yes I was let go due the bad economy) I am wondering what my next move should be.

If you believe in numerology, then I am entering a personal year 3, social expansion and creative success. Does this mean that I should get back to painting? I have been thinking about it but not doing it, or should I write, it seems that is what I have been more comfortable doing these days. I started a new blog:

www.worriedaboutourworld.blogspot.com

about the environment and what I can do personally to help. Also, I am currently volunteering at the community thrift store and applying to volunteer at the library as well.

We have to be careful what we wish for because it might very well happen. Although I did not have the courage to quit my job, I did wish for it and, not long after, my job quit me. Consequently opportunities will be knocking at my door and I have to be ready for them.

So now I am wondering, can I both Write and Paint, will I be able to earn a living at it? Whatever I decide, it will require more discipline on my part. These past few months I have been compelled to change, change my eating habits, my life style and integrate more discipline.
Therefore more changes are coming my way.

Funny thing, even though I am familiar with change it is still a bit unsettling. There is always that scary part where you'll have to make a decision that you know will affect the rest of your life, but either way whatever decision one makes you have to be certain that it will be the right one at that time, and from it will sprout a new learning experience that will shape who you are and will become.

So this was my two cents on CHANGE

“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” Pericles