LEARNING BY IMMERSION - THE ANTIQUE TRADE IS AN ON-THE-JOB TRIAL OF ONGOING LEARNING

It's true. I've never held a multi-million dollar Picasso in my hands. Never once fondled a Monet or Rembrandt. Have never been asked to babysit a Turner or a Jackson Pollock. You don't know how dearly I would like to touch the oil paint, the brush stroke on a Tom Thomson original, or feel the vibes handling an A.Y. Jackson. I adore art and artists. My house is filled with their work. I rotate art like a grocery clerk shifts milk and bread, and there is never a month-span at Birch Hollow, that doesn't herald a full-scale reintroduction……when I return favorite pieces, that had been in storage, and remove temporarily, what I'd been admiring for months. I adore being surrounded by art and interesting old stuff, and it has always influenced my writing projects. I couldn't function as a writer without the close proximity of nature and both sculpture and paintings.

While I'm unhappy generally, to say, that after all my years admiring art, that I've never held a million dollar painting in my mitts, I have had many close encounters from the gallery perspective. Sure, I'd love them hanging in my parlor, or above the mantle, the fact that I've viewed thousands of major art pieces, mounted in galleries, has fulfilled many of my aspirations none the less. I credit my mother for introducing me to art, by always having some wonderful pieces in our home, and the fact she liked to talk about the artists who had created them. Ours was a modest collection but it was enough of an inspiration, to ignite my own life-long passion. I still have her heirloom paintings today, hung in my office with pride. As they motivated me as a wide-eyed kid, they do the same today. If I run into a writer's log-jam, not being able to re-start a project, I will look up at these wonderful old paintings, and feel strangely liberated, as if I'm back in our cosy little Bracebridge apartment……and I need an inspiration fix. They've never failed me yet.

My eduction was in english and Canadian history. That's the degree I received, now tightly pressed into some scrapbook but I'm not sure where exactly. it doesn't matter. I learned far more about writing and antique / art hunting than I ever did hunkered down in a classroom. Actually, I can say that about school generally. Real-life experiences, and immersion into my areas of interest, was the true learning experience, with all the dynamics uncensored, and all the climbs exhilarating, and all the falls without a safety net. One needs to feel the good and the bad, the ecstasy and the horror of the hard-core profession, that classroom instruction can't address. There is a way to deal with the actuality of profession. Like the child thrown into the water with a safety harness three times, expected to learn how to stay afloat. The fourth time, the harness isn't attached. How many of us, when we think about it, and as harsh as this sink or swim scenario might read, learned life's lessons by trial and error……a lot of error. It's how I learned to write and be published, and it's how I've spent most of my life in the antique trade. Never making a million dollars, but then never aspiring that way. My contentment, as a writer and antique dealer, is to have a heck of a good time, immersed in what I enjoy. I have always vowed, and my family respects this of dear old pop, that I wouldn't have any compunction quitting either or both, if my passion for adventure and discovery became a money-only pursuit.

Ten years from now, I expect that I will be able to open a column / blog with the same sentence as this one. I will still long to hold onto the fine work of the world's great artists. Yet I will still tell you, that there is no shortfall beyond appraisal and insurance values, of a Picasso (for example), holding some of the exceptional works of art, sculpture, folk art, fabric art, quilts etc., done over the centuries, by equally talented individuals who, for whatever reason, stayed out of the art-speculator's spotlight. There are some fabulous art works out there for the shoe-string budget I possess. I feel no less a collector because I don't have an original Tom Thomson or A.Y. Jackson within these humble walls of Birch Hollow. I am proud to own art that inspires me, and that's what makes me tick.

I have learned both trades by drastic immersion. Nothing I leaned in school prepared me for on-the-job realities. Being stuck between two pickles, and having to make the right decision, at the right time, to save a career. The pickles know me well. We've been mates for a long time. Yet being in, what they call, "a real pickle," taught me survival skills I could have never attained otherwise. University simply didn't prepare me for the actuality I was about to encounter, trying to survive as a writer, working for the community press, and as an antique picker, with a couple of bucks to invest, but big ambitions. Experience is gained, much like a rock outcropping is gouged, and etched by the slow movement of a glacier. I look back on those learning years, and confess honestly, they were damn hard. I look to the future, and expect, and welcome, the learning yet to come. That's the plain old reality, for someone who has no plans of retiring. That glacier is going to keep on forcing me to learn and love-it! Or abandon it!

The toughest job I ever had was being Mr. Mom. I'm immensely proud of having assumed responsibility for my wee lads, Andrew, starting at three months of age, when Suzanne went back to teaching. I'm still doing the Mr. Mom-at-home thing, even as both lads are now old lads, and established businessmen in our community. Dad's still on the job. Talk about immersion! Parenthood trumps everything else.

Today I'm still a million dollars shy of being a millionaire. I've enjoyed a wonderfully fulfilling life, thus far, and it has all involved unceremonious immersion in projects and professions I had little experience. I always caution my contemporaries today, to believe in the old saying, "if the experience doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger." The learning curve is continuous, despite what you thought was finished after school. There is no shortcut to understanding the trials of this mortal coil. If there's an afterlife, as I believe, possibly they'll be an answer. In the meantime, there are experiences to enjoy, personal relationships to celebrate, books to read, adventures to engage, and life to live. I could never lead a shallow life. Everything I do requires immersion, and truly, that reality leaves me at some peril. It is a chance I'm willing to take, because frankly, I just wouldn't enjoy skimming over the magic within. I need to know more about that magic. Just like those paintings that my mother dusted daily, in our old apartment, there was a spirit within, that liberated my imagination then, just as it does today……as I am perpetually a wide-eyed kid, seeing great potential where others find little to be hopeful about.

I'm a tireless dreamer. My body will decline faster, and sooner, I expect, than my undaunted expectations.