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| Fern Hollow coming to life in the bog. Rob Currie Photo |
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| No matter what time of day I look at this abstract painting in Robert's Studio it reminds me of something different; now it looks like the reflection on the water of autumn colours after another glass of wine. |
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| This original 1960's image always reminds me of something from a Monty Python movie. |
IN QUEST OF ART THAT EXCITES THE SENSES - ABSTRACT, LANDSCAPE, SCULPTURE, IMPRESSION, VICTORIAN, OR FOLK ART
I WOULD BE HAPPIEST, TO DO NOTHING BUT HUNT WORKS OF ART
GOOD NEWS OUT OF THE UKRAINE. ELECTION OVER, NEW PRESIDENT ELECTED, AND A WILLINGNESS OF THE NEW GOVERNMENT TO WORK OUT DISPUTES WITH RUSSIA. THE NEWLY ELECTED PRESIDENT IS THE CANDY MAN BILLIONAIRE. WHATEVER WORKS FOR THE COUNTRY, WORKS FOR THE REST OF THE THE GLOBAL VILLAGE, HAVING FELT THE TREMORS OF WORLD WAR, EVEN AT GREAT DISTANCE AWAY; EMANATING FROM THE HOTLY CONTESTED CRIMEA REGION, AND EASTERN UKRAINE, WHERE PRO-RUSSIANS HAVE BEEN ACTING BADLY. THAT'S THE KIND OF GOOD NEWS WE CAN USE TO START OFF THE WEEK. IT WAS PRECARIOUS FOR AWHILE, AND PRESUMABLY IT WILL BE THE SAME FOR A MONTH OR SO, AS THE NEW GOVERNMENT SETTLES IN FOR THE LONG HAUL. I DON'T THINK THE COLD WAR AURA, IS GOING TO FADE AWAY FOR THE NEXT FEW YEARS, ESPECIALLY WHEN RUSSIA REVEALED, THIS PAST WEEKEND, THEIR REAL ISSUE IS WITH NATO-CREEP IN EUROPE. I WROTE A COLUMN ABOUT THIS REALITY, ABOUT TWO MONTHS AGO, THAT IT SEEMED RUSSIA WAS CONCERNED THE PRO-WESTERN ATTITUDE, OF A MAJORITY OF UKRAINIANS, WOULD BE AN OPEN INVITATION FOR NATO TO SET UP SHOP, AND STAY AWHILE, WITH THEIR ANTI MISSILE DEFENSE NETORK. IT MAY STILL BE ONE OF THE PROBLEMS OF WORKING OUT A DEAL, BUT FOR THE TIME BEING, IT'S A SMALLER FLAME IN A LIGHTER BREEZE. FINANCIAL MARKETS ARE REACTING ACCORDINGLY, AND HOPEFULLY, FOR THE PEOPLE OF UKRAINE, TENSIONS WILL RELAX AFTER MANY MONTHS OF DANGEROUS LIAISONS. RUSSIANS DIDN'T WANT THIS CONFLICT IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND THE RUSSIAN PRESIDENT SHOULD LISTEN TO THEM....NOT JUST THE ENABLERS, WHO ARE FRIGHTENED TO OPPOSE HIS ANNEXATION INTERESTS.
ABOUT ART AND ITS GOOD VIBES AT ALL THE RIGHT TIMES
I REMEMBER ONE COOL NIGHT, WHILE RECLINING AT OUR CAMPSITE, ON ALGONQUIN PARK'S TEA LAKE, BEING QUITE STIRRED, TO THE POINT OF BEING SPEECHLESS, BY THE SPECTACULAR SIGHT OF COLORED VAPOR LIGHTS IN THE SKY. SITTING WITH SUZANNE, AND SONS ANDREW AND ROBERT, WATCHING THE NORTHERN LIGHTS, OVER THE DARK RIDGE OF HILLSIDE EVERGREENS; STARING UP AT THEM WAVERING IN THEY SKY, FEELING IN THE COMPANY OF SPIRITS, AS IF IT WAS THE VERY FIRST TIME I HAD EVER SEEN THEM. WHICH WASN'T THE CASE.
WITH A GLASS OF WINE, MAYBE SEVERAL, THAT NIGHT, WATCHING THE COLUMNS OF TRANSITIONAL, MORPHING COLOR, IN THE CLEAR STAR-LIT SKY, I REMEMBERED READING, ABOUT PAINTER TOM THOMSON'S FASCINATION WITH THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. HE WOULD SIT OUT ON SOME POINT OF LAND, WHERE HE COULD GET A GOOD VIEW OF THE HORIZON, WITH THE REFLECTIVE LAKE BENEATH, AND FUSE HIMSELF TO THE SURROUNDING MYSTERIES. THEN WHEN ADMIRERS GLANCED AT HIS SKETCHES, LATER ON, POSSIBLY AT MOWAT LODGE, ON CANOE LAKE, HE WOULD BE VISIBLY PLEASED, WHEN THEY'D SAY SOMETHING LIKE, "I CAN FEEL THE COLD NIGHT AIR," OR "IT IS SUCH A LONELY SCENE," OR "HAUNTED PLACE." THE ARTIST LIKED TO KNOW THESE OPINIONS, AND IT VALIDATED WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO ACHIEVE. BRINGING THE VOYEUR INTO THE SCENE, TO FEEL THE COLD NIGHT AIR, SIDE BY SIDE, THE ARTIST RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PANEL; SENSING THE DARK ISOLATION AMIDST SUCH NATURAL BEAUTY, PREVAILING FROM THE WAVERING OF NORTHERN LIGHTS, DAZZLING UPON AND OVER A SPARKLING, REFLECTING SILVER OF AN ALGONQUIN LAKE.
SITTING THERE, AT THE CAMPSIDE, SO CLOSE TO THE WATER'S EDGE, THAT THE RIPPLES WERE LAPPING UP AGAINST THE TOES OF MY SHOES, I NOT ONLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE PAINTINGS EXECUTED BY THOMSON, WHO HAD PERISHED ON NEARBY CANOE LAKE, OF ALLEGED DROWNING, IN JULY 1917, BUT ABOUT THE ART ENTERPRISE GENERALLY. IT MAY HAVE BEEN A GREAT TURNING POINT FOR ME, ESPECIALLY IN ART APPRECIATION, BECAUSE HONESTLY, I WAS STUCK IN THE RUT OF TRADITIONAL, AND MOSTLY VICTORIAN LAND AND SEASCAPES. IT STARTED EARLY IN MY ANTIQUE HUNTING, WHEN NINETY PERCENT OF THE ESTATE AUCTIONS, I ATTENDED, HAD STRONG VICTORIAN CONNECTIONS. BACK IN THE LATE 1970'S, VICTORIANA SEEMED TO SUIT MY COLLECTING INTERESTS. HUGE, HEAVY, DARK FURNITURE, AND ART PIECES THAT WERE DISTANT, MELANCHOLY, ROMANTIC, SENTIMENTAL, AND IN SOME CASES A LITTLE MOURNFUL. I PROBABLY PURSUED, NOW THAT I THINK OF IT, THIS VICTORIAN CULTURE, AS A HALF OBSESSION, FOR THE FIRST TWENTY YEARS OF SLEUTHING, AND SELLING ANTIQUES AND COLLECTABLES. WHILE I HAVE CHANGED GREATLY SINCE THEN, IN PART BECAUSE OF MY INTEREST IN THOMSON, AND THE WORK OF THE GROUP OF SEVEN ARTISTS, I WILL STILL JUMP ON A PIECE OF VICTORIAN DECORATIVE GLASS, OR A REALLY NICE PAINTING, BECAUSE, WELL, SOME OF OUR CUSTOMERS LIKE HAUNTING, MOURNFUL, SENTIMENTAL PAINTINGS, AND ELABORATE TO THE POINT OF GARISH, VICTORIAN ADORNMENTS LIKE GLASS AND CERAMICS. I JUST DON'T GO OUT OF MY WAY TO BUY THEM, UNLESS THEY ARE PRICED LOW AND ARE IN GOOD CONDITION. THOMSON'S PANELS, ESPECIALLY OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS, KIND OF SET ME FREE, IN A CURIOUS WAY, AND POSSIBLY LIBERATED ME ALL THE WAY INTO THE EXTREME. FROM VICTORIAN ART TO ABSTRACT IS QUITE A STRETCH. BY THE WAY, I DON'T OWN AN ORIGINAL THOMSON STUDY OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS, BUT WOULDN'T THAT BE NICE.
ROBERT AND I WERE TALKING ABOUT OUR MODERN-DAY PREFERENCES FOR ART, THIS MORNING, CRITIQUING AN ABSTRACT PAINTING SHOWN YESTERDAY, IN HIS BLOG, FROM THE EARLY 1970'S BY AN ARTIST NAMED "G. DICK." WE SAT BACK, STARING AT THE LARGE ART PANEL, ON A MASONITE SLAB, AND COMPARED IMPRESSIONS. WE BOTH AGREED THAT IT LOOKED AS IF THE VIEWER WAS LOOKING UP THROUGH URBAN SKYSCRAPERS, TO THE DISTANT TINY OPENING OF BLUE SKY. BUT SITTING HERE FOR ANOTHER TEN MINUTES, WE HAD OTHER IDEAS ABOUT WHAT THE ARTIST WAS TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH WITH HIS ART. I LIKE THAT ABOUT THE ART I COLLECT. WHAT DOES A COMPETENT PAINTING OR SCULPTURE EVOKE IN THOUGHTS, AND IS IT A LIBERATING EXPERIENCE? IN THE PAST FEW MONTHS, I'VE BEEN THINKING A LOT ABOUT THOMSON'S "NORTHERN LIGHTS," AND HOW AMAZINGLY ETHEREAL IT FELT THAT NIGHT, WHILE THE LIGHT SUCCESSION OF WAVES, OVER THE SAND, AND THE DRY CEDAR SLABS CRACKLED IN THE FIRE PIT. IT WAS THE SENSORY PERCEPTION, THAT WE WERE FREE AND OUR SPIRITS WERE FINALLY UNFETTERED BY LIFE'S CONVENTIONS; AS IF ALL IT TOOK, WAS TO LOOK UP INTO THE NIGHT SKY, AND LET THE EVER-MOVING LIGHTS, OFFER US FREE PASSAGE ONTO THE UNIVERSE. AFTER BEING TIED TO THE WORK-PLACE ALL WEEK, AND SCHOOL FOR THE BOYS, WHAT AN INCREDIBLE FEELING, TO DISCOVER JUST HOW LIMITLESS IT ALL WAS, AND HOW POWERFULLY LIBERATING IT WAS FOR THE IMAGINATION, TO BREAK FREE OF ALL SOCIETY'S FRAMING. WE SAT THERE, AND WOULD OCCASIONALLY PUT OUR ARMS UP, TOGETHER AT THE FINGER-TIPS, AS IF WE WERE DIVING HEAVENWARD; WE SEEMED TO BE PROPELLED UP INTO THAT ALGONQUIN SKY, TO BE CARESSED BY THE WAVERING RAINBOW LIGHTS. WE WERE FLYING, AND NO, WE DIDN'T HAVE WINGS. SO YES, IT DID CHANGE MY INTEREST IN ART. I WANTED ALL THE ART I COLLECTED, TO REMIND ME, IN SOME WAYS, OF THOMSON'S NORTHERN LIGHTS. I WANTED TO BE LIBERATED BY THE ART ON MY WALL, ALL OF THE TIME. I WANTED THE SENSORY PERCEPTION, OF BEING UNIVERSAL, AND WITHOUT BORDERS, SUCH THAT I MIGHT CONSIDER VIEWING IT, AS IF A MEANS OF BREAKING THROUGH ALL OF LIFE'S BARRIERS, SET FREE TO FEEL WHAT IT'S LIKE TO CUT LOOSE THE TETHERS THAT KEEP US SAFE AND GROUNDED, AS MUCH AS GRAVITY HOLDS US TO EARTH. AND EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, I FIND SOME ART PIECE, OUT ON OUR ANTIQUING ADVENTURES, THAT TAKES ME BACK TO THAT TEA LAKE CAMPSITE, AND THE NORTHERN LIGHTS OVER THE ALGONQUIN LAKELAND.
IT IS CERTAINLY MORE LIKELY, TO FIND LANDSCAPES AND VICTORIANA OUT ON THE HUSTINGS, OVER AND ABOVE THE KIND OF ABSTRACTS AND SCULPTURES I HAVE TURNED ONTO, IN RECENT YEARS. I THINK IN A WAY, I HAVE COME TO THINK OF WRITING, AS WELL, TO HAVE FRUSTRATING BORDERS, IF ONLY THIS LAP TOP SCREEN. AS MUCH AS I TRY TO ELIMINATE THIS SENSE OF BEING BOXED-IN, AND FRAMED, I KNOW THAT THE REGIMEN OF WRITING, BEYOND WHAT IS CREATIVE ENTERPRISE, STILL HAS THAT CLAUSTROPHOBIC EFFECT ON ME. SO IF I WRITE ABOUT ABSTRACTIONS, AND THOSE ALLURING NORTHERN LIGHTS, AS DEPICTED BY TOM THOMSON, I CAN AT LEAST GET A REPRIEVE FROM FEELING LIMITED AND REGIMENTED BY THE PROTOCOLS OF SENTENCE STRUCTURE AND PUNCTUATION. IT'S FUNNY, THAT AFTER ALMOST FORTY YEARS OF WRITING, I HAVE COME TO THIS REALIZATION, THAT I SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN ABSTRACT ARTIST LIKE JACKSON POLLOCK. (I OFFER AN APOLOGY TO THE MEMORY OF THIS GREAT AMERICAN ARTIST, FOR HAVING SPELLED HIS NAME INCORRECTLY IN YESTERDAY'S BLOG) SO MUCH SO, THAT I AM ENTERTAINING A STINT AS AN ABSTRACT PAINTER, FOR STARTS, AND GETTING A "CHOPPER" LIKE PETER FONDA, AND DENNIS HOPPER, RODE IN THE MOVIE "EASY RIDER." IT'S LIKE THIS. IF I WANT SOME LIBERTIES TO PURSUE LATE LIFE ART OPPORTUNITIES, WHICH REQUIRE A MINOR EXPENSE OF MATERIALS, THEN WHAT I HAVE TO DO, IS ASK SUZANNE FOR ONE OTHER CHOICE, THAT BY HER STANDARDS, IS OUTRAGEOUS, AND RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT. SO SHE WILL HAPPILY ALLOW ME SOME RECREATION TO PURSUE ART, AS LONG AS IT DOESN'T INVOLVE A MOTORCYCLE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.
WHEN I'M OUT ON THE ANTIQUE HUNT, ART IS ALWAYS MY MAIN INTEREST. I BUY FOR THE SHOP, THE KIND OF ART THAT WILL SELL. AND YES, LANDSCAPES SELL, ESPECIALLY CANADIAN SUBJECTS BY CANADIAN ARTISTS. YOU CAN'T RUN AN ANTIQUE SHOP WITH ART ON THE WALL THAT DOESN'T OCCASIONALLY TURN A PROFIT. WE SPECIALIZE IN AFFORDABLE LANDSCAPE AND NATURE ART, PAINTINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS, BUT ALL OF THEM ARE BY DEFINITION, "VINTAGE" OR OLDER. TO SIMPLIFY IT, WE TRY TO MAINTAIN A COLLECTION OF ART PIECES, THAT JUST ABOUT ANY ONE WOULD CHOOSE TO HANG OVER A SOFA OR MANTLE, IN A MUSKOKA ROOM, A RECREATION ROOM, OFFICE, KITCHEN, PARLOR, OR BATHROOM. THUS, THEY HAVE TO BE WELL EXECUTED, SENSIBLY PROPORTIONED, (NOT HUGE), AND ALWAYS VERY AFFORDABLE. WE HAVE HIGHER QUALITY ART, BECAUSE THIS IS A QUALIFYING NECESSITY OF ANY ANTIQUE SHOP, TRYING TO BE ALL THINGS TO ALL PEOPLE. OUR HIGHEST CANADIAN ART IS STILL VERY AFFORDABLE, BECAUSE WE ARE GOOD AT THE HUNT AND GATHER. WHILE WE HAVE TO BUY THE KIND OF ART THAT IS APPEALING, TO OUR CUSTOMERS, IN THE BROADEST SENSE, WE CAN BE TEMPTED TO COLOR OUTSIDE THE LINES, AND THAT'S WHERE ABSTRACTS, AND EXPERIMENTAL ART COME IN TO PLAY. OF COURSE, I DO HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR FOLK ART, BECAUSE IT IS NAIVE AND LIBERATING IN ITS SIMPLICITY AND HONESTY.
NOT ALL FOLK ART IS SIMPLE AND HONEST. SOME OF IT IS REALLY BAD. THAT'S NOT BECAUSE IT'S NAIVE. THESE ARE PAINTERS AND CRAFT MAKERS, WHO ARE JUST LESSER ARTISTS THAN THEY KNOW, AND THEY OFTEN MAKE THE MISTAKE OF TRYING TO COPY THE STYLE OF KNOWN PAINTERS AND ARTISANS, AND BOTCH THE ATTEMPT. NOT ALL ABSTRACTS ARE QUALITY PIECES. IT STILL COMES DOWN TO KNOWING WHAT COMPETENT, WELL EXECUTED ART WORK LOOKS LIKE, AS YOU HAVE LEARNED FROM BOOKS ON THE SUBJECT, GALLERY VISITS, AND A LOT OF TELEVISION DOCUMENTARIES ON ART AND ARTISTS. WE HAVE CUSTOMERS WISHING TO SELL US ART PANELS, THAT HONESTLY, ARE SO POORLY DONE, WE HAVE A HARD TIME KEEPING A STRAIGHT FACE. ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY TELL US THAT THEY SAW SOMETHING SIMILAR ON THE ANTIQUES ROAD SHOW. WHENEVER A CUSTOMER TRIES TO SELL US ON HOW GOOD A PAINTING OR SCULPTURES IS, SUZANNE AND I REFRAIN FROM COMMENT, AND NINE TIMES OUT OF EVERY TEN, WE JUST NOD OUR HEADS AND THEN GIVE A DELIBERATE SHAKE, WHEN THEY ASK WHETHER WE WANT TO BUY IT FROM THEM. OUR OBJECTIVE IS TO GET TO THE END WITHOUT HURTING THE SELLER'S FEELINGS. OCCASIONALLY, SOMEONE DOES SHOW UP, SEEKING INFORMATION ON PAINTINGS,ETC., OF WHICH WE OBLIGE WITH WHATEVER INFORMATION WE CAN, AND LIKE THE FACT WE HAVEN'T BEEN TOLD, EMPHATICALLY SO, HOW MUCH WE SHOULD BE WILLING TO PAY FOR AN ORIGINAL "BLUE BOY." IT'S EASIER TO WORK WITH FOLKS WHO ADMIT THEY AREN'T SURE ABOUT THE PAINTINGS, THEY HAVE BROUGHT IN, BECAUSE THEY'RE OPEN TO JUST ABOUT ANYTHING WE CAN INFILL. AND BY THE WAY, MOST OF THESE ARE HEIRLOOM PIECES THAT THEY DON'T WANT TO SELL ANYWAY. BUT WE WON'T LIE TO THEM, EVEN IF THEY WANT TO SELL, AND MOST OF THE TIME, WE SEND THEM TO GALLERIES AND AUCTION HOUSES, ON OUR REFERRAL, SIMPLY BECAUSE THE ART WORK IS VALUED WELL OVER WHAT WE CAN AFFORD TO OFFER; AND FEEL COMFORTABLE HAVING IN OUR SHOP OF GENERAL ANTIQUES. VALUABLE PAINTINGS ARE BETTER IN CLIMATE CONTROLLED ENVIRONS, WITH CONSERVATORS AVAILABLE, AND HAVING PROPER INSURANCE COVERAGE. IF ONE DAY I COME UPON AN ORIGINAL HAROLD TOWN ABSTRACT, OR A JACKSON POLLOCK, TRUTH IS, I'D LOVE TO OWN THEM, BUT THE VALUATION AND INSURANCE COVERAGE WOULD COST A FORTUNE. SO, I WOULD HAVE TO TAKE THEM TO A GALLERY THAT SPECIALIZES IN VINTAGE FINE ART, OR ART AUCTIONEER. THAT'S KIND OF A BUMMER, DON'T YOU THINK. I KNOW A FELLOW DEALER WHO LOST TWO SMALL TOM THOMSON ORIGINALS, ON BOARD, DURING A FIRE IN HIS ANTIQUE SHOP. THEY WEREN'T INSURED SEPARATELY. BIG BUMMER.
IF I WAS ABLE TO FIND, PURCHASE, AND HANG ONTO A REALLY FINE PAINTING, ONE DAY IN MY EVER-SHORTENING LIFE, IT WOULD PROBABLY BE ONE OF THOSE HOLY GRAIL, CAREER SATISFYING MOMENTS, IF EVEN I HAD ONLY A HALF HOUR OF TOGETHERNESS, BEFORE PASSING IT OFF TO A HIGHER LEVEL DEALER. I SUPPOSE THEN, I DO PREFER, TO JUST FIND THE BEST OF THE LOT, OUT ON OUR TRAVELS, THAT ARE INSPIRING, THOUGHT EVOKING PIECES, THAT CAN BE ACQUIRED ON A BUDGET, AND SOLD AFFORDABLY TO CUSTOMERS WHO LIKE ART BUT, LIKE US, ARE RESTRICTED BY WHAT THEY CAN INVEST IN PRETTY PICTURES. ART FOR THE MASSES. BUT LET ME TELL YOU, THE REAL EXCITEMENT HERE, OTHER THAN OWNING A FEW NICE ART PIECES, IS THE WEEKLY ADVENTURES WE HAVE, SEEKING THEM OUT. THESE REGULAR TRIPS ARE AS LIBERATING AS IF I'M LOOKING AT ONE OF THOMSON'S PAINTINGS, AS I DRIVE THROUGH THIS BEAUTIFUL LANDSCAPE OF ONTARIO. THEN FINDING A HOLE-IN-THE-WALL SHOP, OR A GARAGE SALE FOR AN ESTATE, OR CHURCH WHITE ELEPHANT FUNDRAISER, WHERE SOME VINTAGE ART PANELS AND A FEW FOLK ART PIECES, ARE SET OUT TO CATCH OUR ATTENTION, CHANGING THE FORTUNES OF THE DAY; MAYBE THE MONTH.
IT USED TO BE, NOT SO LONG AGO, THAT WHEN I WENT OUT ON TOUR, LOOKING FOR ANTIQUES, IT WAS MOST LIKELY I WOULD ARRIVE BACK HOME, TO BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH ASSORTED FURNITURE PIECES, LIKE PINE JAM CUPBOARDS, ROCKING CHAIRS, ARROW-BACK CHAIRS, BUFFETS, HARVEST TABLES AND BENCHES. I'VE CHANGED. THAT'S FOR SURE. NOW WE ARRIVE HOME WITH THREE OR FOUR PAINTINGS, SOME FOLK ART CARVINGS, A SCULPTURE, IF THE PICKINGS WERE GOOD, AND MAYBE A PINE TABLE FOR OLD TIME'S SAKE. IT HAS BEEN A LONG CAREER, AND CHANGE IS THE SPICE OF LIFE, AFTERALL.
I MAY SOON FOLLOW MY YEARNING AND TAKE UP PAINTING AS A SEMI-RETIREMENT HOBBY. I KNOW SUZANNE WILL REMIND ME THAT I HAVE A SIGNIFICANT NUMBER OF STAMPS TO ORGANIZE, WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO ENTERTAIN ME IN MY GOLDEN "SLOWDOWN" YEARS. AS I HAVE THREATENED TO MORPH INTO AN ARTIST BEFORE, AND FAILED TO DELIVER A SINGLE PAINTED PANEL, I WILL HAVE TO WRAP MY LEFTOVER MIND AROUND THE WHOLE ART CREATION ENTERPRISE. I'VE SPENT MOST OF MY LIFE WRITING ABOUT ART SO GOING FROM THIS KEYBOARD TO PAINTS AND CANVAS MAY BE A STRETCH, AND POTENTIALLY NOT A GOOD ONE. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE NAGGED BY URGES, AND HAVE THEM UNFULFILLED; BECAUSE YOU THINK YOURSELF INCAPABLE, EXCEPT IN YOUR IMAGINATION. SUZANNE WILL OF COURSE, EQUIP ME WITH WHATEVER I NEED TO TAKE A SHOT AT BECOMING A TAM WEARING ARTIST TYPE, WITH A GOATEE AND HANDLEBAR MOUSTACHE; AND WANDERING ABOUT LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION, WITH MY THUMB UPHELD TO GET PERSPECTIVE. SHOULD I DECIDE TO TURN FROM WRITING TO ART, I WILL LET YOU KNOW, BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY, I VALUE YOU CRITIQUES, AND I'VE GOT THICK SKIN. AT LEAST SUZANNE SAYS I DO! AND SHE SHOULD KNOW.
THANKS SO MUCH FOR JOINING ME TODAY. WHAT A NICE SUNNY DAY IT WAS. NO NORTHERN LIGHTS TONIGHT. BUT LOTS OF BUGS.
NOTE: I WAS THINKING ABOUT OUR CANOE TRIPS TO SMOKE LAKE IN ALGONQUIN PARK TODAY AND IT WAS THE LAKE THAT GAVE US THE NAME OF OUR ADOPTED CAT THAT WE BROUGHT HOME FROM HUNTSVILLE. I ALSO PROMISED SMOKEY THE LAST TIME HE WAS ON MY LAP THAT I WOULDN'T FORGET HIM. I AM TRUE TO MY PROMISE.
EIGHT AND A HALF LIVES - WHAT A GOOD LIFE SMOKEY HAS ENJOYED
WE'LL PARTNER FOR A FEW MORE STORIES YET
WE ADOPTED SMOKEY THE CAT ABOUT ELEVEN YEARS AGO, TO KEEP OUR KITTEN "FESTER II" COMPANY. FESTER HAD NOT ENJOYED A VERY GOOD KITTEN-LIFE, AND IT WAS ON ITS WAY TO THE HUMANE SOCIETY SHELTER, FROM A HOME NEAR BALA......WHEN SUZANNE WAS APPROACHED BY A STUDENT, AND ASKED IF SHE "WOULD PLEASE ADOPT HER CAT." HER FATHER HAD SERIOUS ALLERGIES AND THE CAT COULD NOT LIVE IN THE HOUSE ANY LONGER.....AND IT WAS TOO YOUNG TO BE SET LOOSE OUTSIDE. WE HAD JUST LOST A CAT......FESTER I, AND TO BE HONEST, WE DIDN'T THINK IT WAS THE RIGHT TIME TO GO BACK INTO FELINE-MINDING AGAIN.
SUZANNE FELT SORRY FOR THE STUDENT, AS WELL AS THE KITTEN, AND SHE FIGURED IT MUST BE PROVIDENTIAL AND A LAST HOPE FOR THE BANDY LEGGED WEE BEASTIE. WE ADOPTED HER BUT SHE SEEMED QUITE LONELY, AND TOOK OUT HER FRUSTRATION ON EVERYTHING WITH A CLOTH COVERING. SOMEONE TOLD US WE SHOULD GET A SECOND CAT, AND IT WOULD BALANCE OUT THE BAD BEHAVIOUR. I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT A LITTLE MORE, ESPECIALLY THE BALANCE PART. ADOPTING SMOKEY MEANT WE HAD TWICE AS MUCH SHREDDING OF THE CLOTH, AND RIPPING THE ARMS OF EVERY UPHOLSTERED CHAIR IN THE HOUSE. THEY WERE CUTE, RIGHT? WE HAD BEEN A HOUSEHOLD OF CATS PREVIOUSLY, THREE IN FACT, BUT THE TWO ADULT CATS POLICED THE KITTEN.....WHICH WAS GOOD.
THIS TIME THERE WERE TWO KITTENS TEARING AROUND THE HOUSE AND IT TOOK A LOT OF PATIENCE TO DEAL WITH.....AND PATCHES ON EVERYTHING FROM THE LIVINGROOM CURTAINS TO THE BEDSPREADS THEY LIKED TO SINK THEIR CLAWS INTO. I DON'T KNOW WHETHER WE HAD FUN OR NOT, BUT THEY WERE PART OF THE CURRIE CLAN, AND THEY WERE ENTITLED TO THE SAME RIGHTS AND PRIVILGES AS THE HUMAN OCCUPANTS.
SMOKY WAS ADOPTED FROM A HOME IN HUNTSVILLE, AND IT CAME HOME IN THE PALM OF SON ROBERT'S HAND. IT WAS A GREY PUFF-BALL OF A CRITTER, AND IT HAD A SHOE FETISH OF ALL THINGS. IT WOULD SLEEP WITH ITS HEAD IN THE SHOES, SLIPPERS OR EVEN FLIP-FLOPS IF THAT WAS ALL THAT WAS AVAILABLE. AND THE FOOD DISH. WE HAD AN OBESE CAT IN THE MAKING, AND I'M AFRAID WE DIDN'T MAKE VERY GOOD PET OWNERS IN THAT REGARD. SMOKEY WAS BOUND AND DETERMINED TO EAT EVERYTHING. AND WHEN WE GOT A TAPE OF CLASSICAL MUSIC, DONE OVER BY AMERICAN STORY TELLER, GARRISON KEILOR, WITH AN ENTIRE CAT THEME.......WE COULD SEE THE PORTRAIT OF SMOKEY EACH AND EVERY TIME WE HEARD THE MUSIC; ESPECIALLY ONE ABOUT A HUGE, RAVENOUS CAT THAT PUT ITS OWNER, OUT OF FRIGHT, ON TOP OF THE OLD FRIGIDAIRE, IN QUEST OF MORE FOOD!
SMOKEY HAS RUN OUT OF VIM, AND THE VINEGAR
Fester II was twelve years old when she died this past April. Smokey, at just over eleven years, has been winding down as well, and lately has been exhausted after only a short hike from the food dish to the litter box. In the past two days, we've all recognized that carrying around all that weight, has taken its toll in the past decade. We didn't have the heart to put him on a diet, and I guess we are guilty of hurting his real, pumping heart with over-kindness. I think we tried to budget the food a few times, but he would get up on Suzanne's knee, and slap her on the end of the nose.....if the food dish wasn't up to snuff. She'd hit her, jump down, and head to the kitchen. When Suzanne didn't follow, he'd repeat the act, and in fact, might do the same thing for an hour, if there was no greater food provision, or his provider didn't get up and handle the perceived crisis. Or she would just sit in the doorway, and stare at whoever looked like the guilty party, denying him the rations deserved. We often surrendered because frankly, it was a lot easier than lasting out the persecution. I know we were wrong, but in a hospitable sense. We tried to make him happy, and it may just have cost his health.
I have shifted this laptop unit out to the front porch, where Smokey is resting comfortably, occasionally opening an eye to see where I've moved to, just in case I've forgotten our pact to stay together to the end. I feel the same way about him, as he has, by the look in his eye just now, acknowledged that he'd never leave my side either. Smokey is most likely going to pass before me, and of this I'm very sorry. We have been pretty good friends since he stopped tearing apart the sofa and the rugs, and we've met his food interests, which has always been enormously fickle.
Smokey was named after Algonquin Park's, "Smoke Lake," where we used to paddle our two Currie canoes, when our clan camped at Tea Lake. Actually, Smokey looks like he's been dropped through a dirty chimney, and swished around inside. He's got about three inches of fur before you get to his hide, and when we trim him up in the summer months, to deal with the heat, he looks at us as if terribly embarassed, and will jump on a chair, under the harvest table to sulk. Smokey is also a very communicative cat, beyond the reality it will slap you on the end of the nose. He will sit and meow at you for an hour, even when it's contently fed. I don't know what message it's trying to convey, but we just hit our knee with our hands, and watch which family member he chooses to partner with, at that particular time.
He has just this minute offered a gentle meow, and is staring at me, as if to say, "well, old chap, it's been a short time, but a good time. Thanks for the memories." Of course I have no choice but to look away, because I refuse to acknowledge that our time together is winding down. I will stop on occasion and sing a song that I used to, when he was a kitten, and we needed him to have a nap to halt, at least temporarily, the carnage he and Fester used to get up to, as best buddies in play.....just not at the food dish.
I have no right to deny this dear old cat the privilege of passing into eternal bliss......feline heaven. I know it is wrong to make promises to God, that I will be a better person, if only he could please spare my cat. I don't think God should be intruded upon in this way, to heal my heart that feels as if it's breaking. There are so many other more dire consequences facing God and the angels in today's world, to bother heaven with what is natural and expected of life's coil. I suppose it's more a case of feeling sorry for myself, more than for the old cat. This is what my mother would say, whenever one of these life and death issues arose, when I was a pondering, often regretful kid. I hated to see things die. Even a grasshopper in my hand, or a butterfly with a torn-off wing. I didn't understand death then and I sure as heck don't now. Why is it so cruel to the survivors? "That's life buddy, get used to it," my dad would say, and then pass me a glass of ginger ale, which he used to treat everything from an infection, a cut, a headache and a sad heart. He used it so often that I actually started to believe its medicinal properties, and would soon start to feel upbeat and healed again. My cut would still be bleeding a bit. I had just stopped worrying about it, and went back to the baseball or hockey game I had left.
I'm not happy about these last moments together but I've been in this situation many times before. I am concerned that Smokey knows that our time together has been memorable, and despite some of the calamity, all has been forgiven. Of course it has been forgiven. How could I ever stay mad at a fluffy old cat that has been at my side all these years? I remember, on one occasion, when Robert had an emergency trip to the hospital, and an over-nighter for tests, Smoky cuddled into my stomach on the sofa where I slept that night (next to the phone), and I fell asleep as a result of his purring away the night. Strangely, just as he is easing me right now, with his barely audible purring, with one eye open to make sure I don't leave suddenly......without letting him know I'll be right back. I do feel calm seeing the way he's slumbering away the final hours, as if he is sending me the message, that I must not grieve for him now, but carry on with his brother and sister cats, all once homeless and hungry. They all got along pretty well, although the kitten stage for our other formerly abandoned cats was a little tough on the old trooper. He even shared space at the food dish, which was more than he did for Fester I. They'd even curl up on occasions, in one big furry ball, and we liked to see this on the kitchen floor, or on the sofa where we didn't dare to disturb such a peaceful occasion.
Smokey and I still have some memories to re-kindle, and seeing as we both have a little time on our hands (and paw), I plan to carry-on writing with this partnership, however failing it becomes in the next few days or weeks. He's not suffering, and is very peaceful when looking about the yard, but it's apparent, that even for a mouse, there is no vigor left to make even a ceremonial chase, for old time's sake. I hate saying goodbyes, so I'm not going to, until the inevitable occurs sometime in the future. I will refuse to give up one moment of our time together, so if a confessional is needed to cleanse the soul, of man or beast, we will have the occasion to clear our respective consciences.
Like all our critters here at Birch Hollow, they play an active role in just about everything I write or create, and it is natural for me to feel forlorned under such circumstances, fearing very much, my writing career will cease, without the infusion of life they all provide, when I'm looking for help, on yet another editorial, essay or blog. They have never disappointed me. Just made me sad, when they have to leave our company, because their time has ended so unceremoniously, and inconveniently. It is always inconvenient for me. I need them all. I can't spare a single one of these wonderful, heart-warming little creatures, that are the blood of family......and that's the way we have always treated these residents of our modest homestead. They are all important beings, with strong spirits and forgiving souls.
I must stop now, and settle down to deck level, to comfort my buddy here, and pat that glorious fur that my hands sink deep into, and still feel warmed by the last part of the ninth life, for Smokey the cat. My muse. My friend for long and long, through good times and bad.......but mostly good.
I'm sorry to cut this blog short today. My friend needs me close by, and I shall do as I'm asked. It's the least I can do, for all the fun and companionship she has afforded all members of our family. Thank you for joining today's blog. Please visit again.
A FEW FINAL WORDS
As I wonder each time a pet of ours passes, whether I will ever feel the same good vibes around here, at Birch Hollow, ……..the ones that make me want to sit down for several hours to write. Well, once again, I have found out something positive about the love for pets and what matters most to a writer. I can still write, you see, and I have found this out by application, of fingers on a keyboard, and a heart still beating in my old chest. I have just finished holding Smoky one last time. He had much less life left than I had thought, earlier today. He is now buried beneath a cluster of birches and evergreens, next to Fester I and Fester II, and how peaceful it all was, when I set down the little marker on the grave……the birds chirping above, and the chipmunks on the woodpile scratching then eating, then scratching some more. Life hadn't stopped for funerary observances. It was the continuation of the cycle, and now it has darkened over the woodlot, and the crickets have taken over the chorus of daily living.
I will miss Smoky, like all the other critters we have taken into our home…..because they didn't have one. I hope they liked us, as much as we liked them.
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