Light Brigade

My friends' house in Halifax is beautifully decorated, filled to bursting with all sorts of original art and craft.  Just before apéritifs one afternoon, I noticed a little patch of ephemeral art being created on the wall by the sun peeking through the blinds.

The shadow stripes turned red against the picture frame, echoing the colour of the flowers in the foreground.

Stray rays spilled beneath the shelf, 

continuing the light play above 

and repeating the stripes on the clay pot.

The clay sculpture in the corner looked on,

 laughing  in delight,  albeit rather hollowly.

The red flowers demanded a dramatic moment in the spotlight

and then burst into their solo act of art imitating art,

doing their best to look like a painting.

Not to be outdone, the clay flowers (photo on left) transmogrified into a painting of themselves (right)

(with a little editing help from me in Photoshop, that is).

Wherever you may be this weekend, I hope it is in a place filled with de--light.

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Linking up with Bonnie's Photo Art Friday whose theme this week is "light."

Gallery-a-go-go

Today I went with my neighbours to the Saint John Arts Centre, a 2 hour drive from where we live.

Apparently, at an art gallery, it's custumary to leave your helmet on the coat rack. 

(Unclear as to whether or not this was an art installation.)

The main hall has had a colourful makeover, though I'm unsure whether or not the colours are true to the period, or even what period the decor is supposed to represent.  But it's fun!

I have had two exhibits in this art centre, a solo show of paintings and an exhibit with 2 artist friends of rug-hookings and fabric art dolls.  But today I was here to see a display of beautiful handmade poetry books by my friend and neighbour.  It was a bit of a special event as there were 3 other galleries in the centre presenting various artists, as well as awards being handed out for promising art students (I resisted the urge to shout a warning to the recipients to go to business college rather than art school). 

You've probably heard of the "glass ceiling" that exists in the business world for women, but are you aware of the stained glass ceiling that exists for artists?  It is symbolically represented here at the Saint John Arts Centre.

Just time for a moment of quiet contemplation, with background (literally) accompaniment on acoustic guitar, before the art-hungry hordes arrive. (By the way, they served up some pretty  fine party snacks at the centre though, unusually, they charged  $5 for a glass of wine instead of  the usual free plonk.  Obviously, the Board of Directors has wised up to the ways of the artist.)

Gallery-goers doing their gallery going thing.  Some people love mixing and mingling at such events and others scurry around seriously looking at the art work and avoiding eye contact at the food tables, while still others surreptitiously snap photos. 

Art whispering.

Art gazing.

Art work (by a special friend).

Susan Reflecting

My friends in Seattle live near a beautiful little park that is really more of a big garden than a park, and each time we visit them we take a stroll through the grounds. 

Of course, this picture is a Photoshopped version (or vision) of a photo that I got of Susan gazing into the light playing on a pond in the park.  To me, it depicts a soulful moment of reflection.

The original photo was pretty much blown out with the bright light (left) so even that had to be toned down a bit with Photoshop (right).   Notice how I added a "stream" of light flowing at Susan's feet plus a bush of flowers in the middle ground of the final version?

And here's a pool of water in the same park that one of our fine feathered friends was reflecting on as well.

For other "Weekend Reflections" be sure to visit the links at James' "Newtown Area Photo" blog.

And let the light shine in while you all shine on!

A Ribetting Personality

There's a certain blogger to whom I would like to dedicate this post.  I'm pretty sure that I don't have to introduce him to anyone who reads the comments on my blog.  In fact, my family and friends (who generally read my postings anonymously) have all asked me, "So, who is this Owen fellow?" 

"Well," I tell them, "he aint heavy, he's my blog brother!"   He appeared one lonely blog night in my comment box with some sort of heart-warming, praising, encouraging, imaginative, original, and humourous response and slapped his icon up in my "Honoured Guests" corner.  I suppose that was well over a year ago now; I'm not good for keeping track of numbers and anniversaries and significant dates and all that.  But I do know that he's been unflaggingly supportive and encouraging of this blog, as well as numerous others' blogs, and I just want to show my appreciation for such exemplary behaviour.  Especially when you consider the fact that he is a self-described toad: the amphibian host of the Magic Lantern Show, Mr. Toad's Travel Diary.

Yes, it's true, he often shoots off at the mouth, spits out whatever's on his mind, and has a few juicy things to spout, but he's never boring.

Sometimes, in fact, he needs to be reined in a bit, if not actually chained up, such is the magnitude of his unfettered imagination, both in his comments and in his own colourful, oft-times poetic postings.

Admittedly, some of his tastes are a bit strange, such as a certain fondness for those masked nocturnal garbage foragers that he seems to miss so much since moving to France.  But in spite of that, Mr. Toad  always comes across as a patient, interested and interesting sort of fellow...

ready to pull up a blog stool, gaze into your eyes and chat awhile, crack a joke or two, and sip on a few tipples provided by our cherished blog sister, The Sagittarian, before slip-sliding-hippety-hopping off to visit some of the 370 other bloggers who have been happy to leave their calling cards at his home blog.

He sets a golden example of excellence in blogging and photography, and of being an all-round good toad.

Here's to you, bro!

You've Got Mail

A single small eagle

hang glides in its remoteness

above the dingy village streets.

Outside the post office,

patriotic flags wave laconically

in the half-hearted wind.

Unlocked, my mail box reveals

a treasure map

sent from an unimagined distant land,

written in a friendly hand.

Smiling, I walk on

attuned now

to the hush of melting snow

along the lonely backroads.

We Interrupt This Blog...

New and Improved: Movin' On Bonus Valu-Pak!

We interrupt this blog to bring you a bonus illustration, generously suggested by FCW (that's a Fart in the Cosmic Wind for those of you who haven't caught a whiff of his blog before) who sent me a link to a (White) Spot of nostalgia that beautifully illustrates the drive-in I mentioned in the post below (see: "Movin' On").

White Spot No1, Granville Street - 1958

20"H x 32"W; Limited Edition Giclee ; Price:$700

Artist:  Brian Croft

The folks here at Décolleté (well, me) have also thoughtfully provided a video of the tune "Beep beep!" where you can view some pretty sweet little Nash Ramblers and join in the singing with Margaret over at Margaret Panpipes, who knows all the words to the chorus.



Happy Days, indeed.  At least for a kid like me who enjoyed riding around in the back seat of her parents' car, going to the drive-in restaurant for supper, and listening to goofy pop songs on the radio. 

I hope my little self-indulgent trip down Memory Lane will not make too many of you younger folk out there, such as my dear blog pal the  Sagittarian, or my adoptive baby brother  Owen,  feel that their childhoods were deprived in any way!

And here's a family photo, taken round about this time.  I'm sitting on my grandmother's lap (note my poodle skirt! My saddle shoes, alas, had already worn out), my great-grandfather sits behind us, my dad sits in the centre of the picture (note his cool jacket with the leather sleeves), my mother (note the bright red lipstick and long hair pulled back in a braid) holds my relatively new baby sister on her lap, while my great-grandmother sports a jaunty neckerchief.  My grandfather is behind the camera.

There and Back

Seattle
Kubota Gardens

Vancouver

I left Friday in torrential rain, bound for Seattle on a Greyhound bus. I was met at the station by the Photographer, rallied at home with the Fibre Artist, then spent the weekend visiting with them, and eating and drinking exceedingly well. We talked, laughed, teared up, went for a walk to the nearby gardens, drove on the freeway with death-defying manoeuvres in bucketing rain to get to a wool shop, shopped for yarn and patterns, meds and groceries, and sat in unexpected Sunday sunshine in the backyard, drinking tea, eating homemade cookies, and listening to a hummingbird's chirrup.

Unfortunately, on my first morning there, I awoke with a very sore throat so was not at my best the entire weekend. I blame this sad state of affairs for my pathetic lack of photo-making activity!

Aside from my friends, do you know what I love best about the U.S.A.? Australian wine for sale cheap cheap cheap at a pharmacy! Now that's what I call good medicine!

It was a wonderful tonic to meet up with two of my oldest, dearest friends.

Shrine On!

I had a wonderful surprise in the mail today! Due to my sprained ankle (yes, yes, I know I've milked the subject dry) I haven't made it to the post office of late to clean out the usual build up of dust from my mail box. Yesterday, however, I was befuddled to find a "final warning!" card there to pick up a parcel that had, apparently, been awaiting me for several days. As the postal clerks had gone home, I had to wait until this morning to collect my mystery mail. I was completely surprised and utterly delighted to find that my friend over at Driftwood & Turtles had sent me the book, Shrines, Images of Italian Worship by Steven Rothfeld.

The dust jacket tells us, "Created by average people as an expression of religious devotion, the shrines appear along ordinary roads in villages and cities, in the fields of farmers, and in the yards of simple cottages and homes."

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THANK YOU SO VERY VERY MUCH, KIBBY!

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The Drifter knew I'd love the book because I'd gathered a few images of my own on my trip to Calabria a while back. Here's a taste of what I saw:

(Photo taken in Tropea, May 2007. I am especially fond of the little electric candle that's been rigged up inside.)

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(Photo taken in Tropea, May 2007. At this shrine, I was tickled by the lingering presence of a Christmas garland draped over the padlocked Madonna).

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Throughout my trip, I was enchanted by the many and varied shrines embedded in the walls of palazzos, popping up in the middle of roadways, jumping out from shadowed nooks and beside hidden doorways. They embodied the simplicity, sincerity, and oftimes full-blown tackiness of genuine folk art.

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(Photo taken in Pizzo, 2007)

Shrine to Our Lady of the Dish Towel (?)

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On a sadder note, the publication of Mr. Rothfeld's book pretty much eradicates my fantasy of getting an arts grant from the Canada Council to roam about Italy gathering photos of folksy shrines. It's been done, they'll tell me.

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Maybe instead I'll try pitching the idea of collecting pictures of graveyard statuary and bathtub Madonnas from PEI!

(Seen above: Our Leaning Lady)

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Par Excellence

(photographed by Pierre)

I have just spent nearly two hours cruising through my Seattle Photographer Friend's website, Under the Light. If you want to experience pictures to drool over, grab a glass of wine, cup of tea, bottle of Scotch--whatever is your prime choice of liquid relaxation-- and settle in to view some absolutely brilliant images and interesting stories. Dig deep and you will find absolute gems...though all that surface gold dust is nothing to sneeze at, either! See particularly, "In The Shadow of the Viaduct" series, and "A Year In the Garden" (my favourites, anyway).