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Nov 20 2012
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When to Retreat

It’s National Novel Writing Month and I’m supposed to be writing about 2000 words a day to make a total of 50,000 words in the month of November. That’s about 4 type-written pages a day.

Of course there are distractions.  The fridge, the neighbours, work, my studio projects, tea with long-lost friends, movies, a sudden urge to meditate or clean, pressing F1 for anything on the computer, researching family history, running out the door for any number of very important errands.  I’m distracted by everything because this writing project is new and that means anything is possible.  The canvas is a little too white.

From my room at the retreat house.

So, a writing retreat was in order and even sponsored by the London Writers’ Society.  I headed out to sunny Lake Sunova twice this month and put words on the page.  Not a lot, but some.  Some good words, I think, in my once elegant long-hand that I won’t be  able to read later.  Half the time I’m counting the words to see how well I’ve done. But truly it isn’t about the word count, is it?

Regardless, it’s been great to retreat, to leave my usual habits behind and honour the time and space to get into new writing again after a year of editing.  While this new novel comes slowly into the world, I had the space to relax.  The little lake and the house were beautiful, nourishing.

But a retreat can be lonely.  I’m used to writing amid noise and distractions, with the radio on in the background, at the market downtown, in Timmy’s or anywhere else where people gather.  These busy places help me keep me one foot in this world so that I am able retreat into the writing.

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Jun 30 2012
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Summer break

Yes, it’s time to get out the wading pool, the camping gear, the cooler, sketch books, the camera, the novels I always wanted to read, the portable bits of thread and cloth–and escape the studio.  Summer is the perfect excuse for a procrastinator like me to put aside all plans and just follow the sun.

Friendship Bracelets; one for you, one for you …

It also means, for a while, leaving behind posting regularly through this lovely connection.  I will return, I promise you.

During the summer, I will gather more inspiration than I need.   And I look forward to hearing about your inspirations as well as sharing mine again–when it’s time to remember where I put my shoes, when the cat sleeps in again, when the droning, dripping air conditioners are silent, when school supplies go on sale and all the best pencil cases have been snatched up and Hallowe’en candy has crept out of aisle nine into the first marque display, when the basil is fragrant and tomatoes and garlic are plentiful, when the sauce is made and the body sated, sunned, exercised and renewed.

Love,

Laura

Jun 20 2012
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Quilts that tell a story

My first quilt was a grid of squares made from scraps of fabric we had around the house.  I was 14 years-old.  My grandmother and her sisters came over to quilt it.  I felt honoured.   Quilting, it seemed, was a tradition in my family.  I’ve taken the tradition and twisted it with needle and thread in many ways over the years, but have never done anything like the women of Wardsville, Ontario.

Louise painting a Wardsville Bicentennial barn quilt block
Photo by Dave Chidley

They have taken the story of the founder of their community and created the Wardsville Barn Quilt Trail.   Each block of the quilt tells a piece of George Ward’s story or relates to the historical context of the founding of Wardsville in 1810.  What’s really cool is that each block is painted onto plywood then put up on the side of a barn or other structure.  Who would have thought, but it’s beautiful.

I’m still working with textiles–the stretchy knits of t-shirts.  They are my daughter’s.  There’s history, or should I say, her-story, in them for sure.  She hasn’t founded a town but she’s got time.

I’ve cut the t-shirts into blocks of various sizes based on the logos.   When I lay them out on my table, I can see that it’s going to take some work to make them fit into a grid.  And like any artist, I’m looking at the empty spaces between the blocks.

First Nation Paintbrush, Delaware First Nation

The double Irish chain design from Wardsville might be an option (they have put the pattern up on their blog).  My daughter has strong Irish ties from her grandmother.  The Rising Sun block is also beautiful but it looks like I’ll have to search for that one.  You know, I like research.

Thanks to the women of Wardsville for their inspiration.

Love,

Laura

Jun 17 2012
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Blame it on Dad

The table in the studio is cleared again.  After a week of sleeping on the scraps from the green fleece sweater, my dear old cat must find a better place to rest.

Up next is the t-shirt quilt project.  I’m really awful at these things.  I spend too much time thinking and planning and postponing.  It was supposed to be a present for last Christmas, so I wonder what the odds are for this year.

I blame the men in my life for all this thinking stuff.  Unlady-like, my dad would say.   But he’s responsible for a good part of the bad habit.  When I was born, he was doing his masters at University of Toronto.  We were surrounded by intellect, living in the heart–or should I say brain–of a major city.  A bit was bound to rub off.

Another man was much more encouraging about the beauty of logic.   Kenneth Thrasher taught grade 10 math.  With a gleam in his eyes,  he introduced me to Euclidean geometry.  I swore I’d died and gone to heaven.  Please, can I have more homework.  He may be responsible for me diving into clothing design rather than into art after graduating high school.  All those pattern drafting tools!!

So, please be understanding.  The t-shirt project must be shaped by intellect as much as fashion.  This takes time.  Theories of relativity have crept into my life, making it challenging to wrestle the ideas into plane geometry.

I’ll blame it on Dad and the other men with whom I’ve shared a love.

Love,

Laura

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Jun 12 2012
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My Singer Sewing Machine

Sewing the collar on the green sweater

It feels like cheating because I’ve chosen to drop the knitting needles and romance the sewing machine.

Historically, the Singer and I have gotten along quite well.  She’s the more dependable on in our relationship.  I get antsy and crazy with lust over fabric but find hard it to settle into her warm glow, to appreciate the machine oil smell of her cast iron body.

But when I’m focused, when there’s a mission to accomplish, we get it done.
We made a sweater over the last couple of weekends–just like that.

It’s a re-purposed garment.  I had made a cotton fleece sweater that was loose-fitting and only seamed at the armholes and down the sleeves.  There was lots of fabric to work with.  I enjoyed picking it apart.  It’s like a meditation.

Fitting the green sweater on the Judy.

Next, I dyed the natural-coloured fleece green.  It’s turned out to be the best green colour ever!  Then the I pinned the body of the old sweater onto the Judy and fitted it.  I used the skirt of an out-of -style cotton dress for the bias trim.

One weekend, I adjusted and sewed the main seams, and even got the sleeves in.  This past weekend, I did the finishing:  collar, zipper and hem.  And it’s done!  A bit odd and funky, but it’ll do the job.

This green sweater is a stepping stone to the knit one.  It’ll keep me covered until I have time and courage to connect with the knitters’ group that meets at the library.

Love,

Laura

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Jun 10 2012
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Escaping the Studio: a marriage proposal pops up

I like to escape the studio, even though there’s a comfortable chair and a huge  table.  It’s good to get out.  I take my writing or sketchbook and “work” in public spaces.  A good way to get some things done.

Covent Garden Market, London Ontario
Mezzanine

On Friday afternoon I was having tea by the huge beautiful windows upstairs at the Covent Garden Market.  A group of teenage girls began to gather and  practice dance moves in the space beside me.  I had my Mp3 player and ignored them.  More and more girls came, but I shrugged, thinking they were practicing for the Fringe Festival which had started the day before.

A friend spotted me and we moved away from the growing commotion so that we could talk. It soon became clear that something was up.  At some point, the practicing stopped and the girls scattered among the tables.  Ah, a flash mob. Sure enough, the music started up and a couple of girls got up to dance, with more girls gradually joining in.  But they kinda swarmed a woman who was not part of the dancing group.  And there to save her was a man.  That man handed her a gorgeous bouquet of red roses.

Out came the tissues.  It was a marriage proposal.  She must have said yes.  Confetti cannons went off.  Then more tissue therapy, for her this time.  Her guy just hugged her, seriously smiling.

This kind of thing never happens in my studio.

Love,

Laura

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Jun 05 2012
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Finding Round in a City of Squares

Toronto is square, at least that’s how I experience it.  It’s built on a grid and that makes it one of the easiest places to get around.  The buildings are variations on the square–stacked, squished, glass, metal, stone, brick.  I’m trying to think if there’s anything with a dome downtown.   There is the circle at Queen’s Park.

The Vessel, Ilan Sandler
Taddle Creek Park, Bedford Rd, Toronto

The area around the University of Toronto has been filled in, old houses torn down so that the real estate can move up. As I walked north of Bloor, I found a sweet surprise, not just a green space but a round structure.

In it is an unmistakably round and feminine piece of public art.  A bit of relief.  Water falls gently from the rim around the top.   The proportions are so believable that it could be a pitcher on a table.  A giant pitcher left behind for a giant?  A giant pitcher to hold the rounder side of a whole city?

It’s just cool.

Love,

Laura

PS–for more information about this park, Taddle Creek Magazine has a great article.

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Jun 03 2012
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ROM Space: Made for Us

ROM from the east on Bloor Street

The Royal Ontario Museum is about collections.  It’s about old stuff.  And if you ignore the second floor (with its taxidermy and dinosaurs), then you might be impressed like I am by how “human-centric” the collections are.

It’s all about us.  What we make, what we use, how we look.   It’s like a kind of tagging through the ages.  For instance, the glass cases in the Asian galleries contained Buddha and bodhisativas and demons and men of all kinds.  Even a few women.  And the purpose of the images?  To confirm the goodness in us, or to make a mark, a lasting impression?  He was there and because of this icon, the future will know him.

I’m overwhelmed by this impression in the Greek and Roman galleries.  Figure after human figure.  Marble heads.  We love looking at ourselves.  I’m just realizing it.  Our purpose seems to be us.  We worship the human form (okay, Islamists might not). There’s something about the human image and our drive to capture it.  Does a piece of the soul stay with the creation, as some cultures claim?  Perhaps it’s time to burn my self-portraits.

ROM, Egyptian Pre-dynastic. Two figures found in the mud and reconstructed. they are thought to represent grief.

In fact, I found two figures of women, very expressive, in the Egyptian gallery whose souls seemed to still be present.  They are dated as pre-dynasty, and were found in the mud of the Nile.  I love them for their gestures, so unfathomable after what, 4000 years?

It’s all about us.  What we collect, the stories we tell, the clothes we make, the tools we use, the we adorn our bodies.  We stand as individuals, as votives representing something, something that we in turn, love to look at.  I’m wondering what that might be.

Love,

Laura

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May 31 2012
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The Buddhist Boys

6 luohans on the first floor of the ROM, the Asian culture galleries.

I only went to Toronto for the day, and and only had a few hours to spend with the boys.  To make the most of the trip, I decided to get into a Buddhist frame of mind so that I might draw these fellows with more understanding.

My friends, Dan and Pam, recommended reading J. Macey’s Active Hope and I started it a few weeks ago.  Honestly,  it’s a tough read.  Over the weekend I listened to Pema Chodron’s Bodhisattva Mind.   From this small immersion, I got the message to stay in the present and be open.  Easy.

The boys are  a group of six monks carved in sandstone from the Song Dynasty (1000-1200 AD).  The religious term for them is luohan.  The ROM blurb didn’t explain much about them but from my bit of research, they were a kind of spiritual warrior for the Buddhist faith at a time when it was experiencing persecution in China.  These luohan continue a communion that started a millennium ago.  So cool.

The luohan aren’t boys, I discovered, but strong men in many senses.  Calmness is under appreciated in our culture.  As I drew them, I felt the power of it.  They were centred, unique, compassionate, yet there was muscle under the cloth.  These boys could walk, and sitting still, I imagine, wasn’t a passive activity for them either.

Luohan with a dragon at his foot, ROM.

What surprised me as I drew, was that I began to see monks through  the sculptor’s eyes.  Each man was a model to be cajoled into a pose and flattered into an attitude which would serve both personal vanity and the cause of  religious teachings.  The sculptor may have been a monk himself (sorry, have to assume “he”); he would have had to answer to an abbot of sorts, to the traditions of his craft and religion, if he could separate these.

From the dates, it’s likely that more than one sculptor would been involved in portraying this group, yet the style and details are incredibly consistent.  The stone blocks had their own grain and inclusions.  Not perfect or painted over.  So the execution was very important.  Imagine sanding the heads and faces, the lips and brows, so smoothly–polishing into the stone to bring out the flesh.  The tension between body and spirit.

I would date the Buddhist Boys at the ROM again, but will confess my crush may have shifted to the artists who created them.

Love,

Laura

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May 27 2012
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Stephan B MacInnisDaily Daily Studio Photograph. May 25, 2012.

Daily Studio Photograph. May 25, 2012..

Apparently I’m not the only one who sees the studio as not just a space, as an extension of self.  Abstract painter Stephen B MacInnis is taking a photo every day of himself in the studio.   Cool stuff to check out on the link above.

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