Notes from my Barbados Journal: Part 2

Grrrrrrr.... Insert creative cussing and sourpuss LOLcat here. I am not having a good day health wise. Can't move. Was to go to Bathsheba today to paint, but have postponed til tomorrow. I could just cry.

I sit on the patio hilariously bundled in a blanket (I am freezing!) and half-heartedly watch for Mick Jagger and entourage, who are apparently in the lounge having lunch before flying off to Mustique. Dad says everyone is ignoring him. (I bet he likes that!)

Next morning:

My fever broke in the night, and I am doing better. Painkillers, check. Off to Bathsheba! I can barely contain my excitement. It is one of my favourite places on Earth. On a par with Lady Agnes MacDonald Tea House at Lake Louise, Alberta.

En route, Banana Flowers! Invasion of the bodysnatcheresque Banana Flowers!!







Bathsheba is on the remote East coast. A rugged terrain that seems like another planet.







These hunks of coral are as big as my garage.



I am in texture heaven!






His bones are coral made…




A psychological portrait of my Father. I wonder what he is thinking?




I found out the hard way that there be jellyfish in these caverns.






Bathsheba, The Round House restaurant, and adjacent St Martin’s Bay: When I shoot in sepia, this relatively untouched part of the island looks just like an old postcard from 1887.










The food at The Round House is authentic and delicious Bajan style: Macaroni Pie with jerk spice, grilled flying fish, and a special grated coconut pie that patrons fight over for the last piece.

_____

Upon awaking, I have a sudden, uncomfortable and disturbing thought about my dear paternal Grandmother and hope she is okay. Two days later on the way to the airport, my Dad tells me she is dying of kidney failure. It could be a matter of hours: she could pass while I am in the air.

Grammy is 94 years old, and an amazing, self-made, intelligent woman. Three time cancer survivor. I get the chance to tell her what she means to me and to say good-bye. I thank her for fostering in me a lifelong love of Siamese Cats. It was her seal point male, “High-liner”, that I fell in love with as a little girl. When my parents asked me what I wanted for a pet when we moved to Canada, I said quite confidently, "a skunk or two Siamese cats!"

I remark that she is kind of “going like a cat”. Curled up in her bed. Not moving much, but at peace with this. Caring relations like Auntie Lynn and some great grandchildren are there to pet her. Dad appreciates that comment and mulls it over. I bet Grammy would roar with glee at it.

But for now, I do not know. I just wonder what he is thinking.





(It's Dad’s.)

Notes from my Barbados Journal: Part 1

Arriving at Barbados' Grantley Adams Airport, fresh from the Canadian Music Week 2008 conference. Still grinning from getting to snap Alanis Morissette at her presser, I was delighted to get out of Toronto's white-out conditions.



The flight was late, and wild. I was SO GRATEFUL to have brought Dimenhydrinate, as turbulence plagued us for most of it. Roller coaster - like drops and highs. Comforted by the thought of P's tracking the trip's progress on her laptop from Bongolia , I slept for two hours like a stone. We were lucky to get off the ground. My fellow passengers and I were cringing in unison that the pilot would come on the horn and say we were turning back because visibility was nil. Instead, the pilot ordered a double de-icing of the entire airplane, and we took off on a wing and a prayer. Ha.

Upon debarking the aircraft, the pilot chatted me up when he saw my portfolio. He escorted me to the customs gate, and explained that, while he did not want to die, he very much wanted to get the plane here today because it was HIS VACATION, too! His grin was as big as the ocean.

A twenty minute drive (on the “other” side of the road, eek) gets me to my destination. A generously loaned sofa in a suite at this heavenly place! I love the palm shadows dancing on the walkway to the room.



Palms and their shadows, sounds and shapes will captivate me for the whole week. That, and sea turtles. The place is stunning, vivid and drenched in sunshine. This is one of the cliffside pools at The Crane Residences.

Down below, the beach stretches endlessly...

... while eyes of shelter watch the waves.


We enjoy a lovely light dinner of Salade Niçoise, a fine bottle or three of Pino Grigio, terrific conversation, and these dramatic skies after a killer sunset.




I fall asleep to the sound of waves crashing and tree frogs chirping. My Mom always jokes it is a cassette tape they play so I will have to paint these sounds to be certain they are real.

////

The next morning, I drink a cup of coffee in a garden at 6 am, gazing over the cliff to the sublime teal sea.

I spy this! A cat in a palm tree, stalking the doves. (He got down safe and sound.)





I spend the day painting at Foul Bay , which is anything but. I used an overturned skiff as an easel.




WhereTF is my signature pink hair? I took it out for this trip. Last time I went swimming in the Caribbean sea, the semi-permanent colour ran in magenta runnels down my body as I sashayed out of the water. Think Carrie, at the end, when she gets doused with the bucket of pig's blood. I had a good time with that! But it was not worth a repeat performance.

I leave you with this, from Foul Bay. Listen….

Painting and Photo Schedule, 2008

Just back from another gloriously productive stay in Barbados with lots of new creations to catalog. There are several new paintings in the web site's galleries, notably new winterscapes from Lake Louise. Although the snow still fills the hammock out back that I was too busy to take down, I can smell Spring in the air here at Quinte's Isle. Here is my painting schedule for the coming year. If you are interested in a special piece from any of these areas, or if you are a fellow traveler and can offer some location tips, by all means comment below or drop me a note!

March, 2008: Documenting Barbados paintings. Continuing work in studio on large canvases for January 2009 show in Barrie.

April, 2008: Painting on site in San Diego, Laguna Beach, Oceanside, (yay!) and Palm Springs, California. Doing Coachella Music Festival as well!

May 9-25, 2008: Join some wonderful fellow artists and me for "The Art of Flight" in the lower gallery at Black Prince Winery.

May 14 - 18, 2008: I will be painting and photographing on location in British Columbia. Hoping to get up to Quadra to see Nanci at Firesign B&B!

Summer, 2008: Gananoque and Hill Island, Upstate New York, Monheghan Island, Maine, and Maritime Canada

Autumn, 2008: Germany and Austria (pending)

Winter, 2008: Arizona and Utah, where some incredible canyons are calling my brush.

As always, I offer my sincere thanks to my dear friends, beloved family, fellow artists, galleries, mentors and my treasured clients: I could not accomplish my goals without your continued support!

Lake Louise Snowscapes

Watching the Stars While They Were Watching Me (2008) acrylic on archival panel, 8x10

Having taken a time out upon my return from the Rocky Mountains to investigate what is going on with my health, I am now back at it. After being poked, prodded and, as Monty says, "garden hosed", lymphoma was ruled out for a second time. Hopefully we'll know more at the end of February. They suspect an auto-immune disorder like Lupus. I can deal with that! I just want to make art.

Many new works are now up here.

I have noticed two different directions in recent work, with regards to what I am seeing and how I am putting the paint on the support, be it paper or canvas:
1. The mark/path making, combined with a move to more abstract method and textures - -
versus 2. the softer, idiomatic 'scapes - albeit some with daring cadmium red peeking out. ("Winter Conversation") I am hanging onto both approaches, but the pull towards the former is very strong.

I welcome your comments and questions! Someone asked me today: "Do you think you see color and contrast differently when you are ill? I am asking because you said you had a fever while you were at L.L."

YES! This is absolutely true. As my agent Roxanne will attest, I then push that and see where it goes. Creating when you are tired or mourning or angry can be interesting, too. Some of my more successful work for bands was done while suffering from insomnia. (KiTTie, Daniel Powter, etc.) Of course, painting while happy, stress free and rested is a process to consider as well. Hee hee... (Barbados!) That is when I have time to loll and return to the spot, and take my time. Some of these works go into the trash however, because I tend to overwork them. (Thank you, M.)

Rocky Mountains

At the beginning of January, I headed off into the mountains of Alberta to work. No cellphone, no tv, just quiet skies, ravens, snow and hypoxia. I slept and painted, painted and slept, and skated on the frozen lake with my dear P. Spent a day or two with a fever, painting right through it from the windows of the place I was staying. One result:



More soon. It is starting to snow heavily. Have to drive into town to the pharmacy and pick up some foul liquid to swallow prior to tomorrow's MRI. Apparently it is to give the body scan a contrast. Mmmmmm!

Greetings on the Fly

Hope everyone is enjoying the season. I am just back from Arizona and prepping for an extended foray in the remote, wintry Canadian Rockies in January. Snowscapes at 7000 feet - Can't wait! I am still sick, but working as I am able. Treasuring every moment I am able, too, whilst responsibilities rear their heads like stripe-suited mosquitoes with clipboards.

Illness can be a great motivator for creativity. I am learning to channel it.

Quebec City

Rather than wallow here over the painful loss of Professor Rudie, I traveled with my artist friend J. to Quebec City to paint for a few days. It was beneficial to have something to concentrate on all week, however some of the paintings I have returned with are a reflection of my deep, quiet sorrow.

Aside from the food (escargot! good wines!! baguettes!!!) the highlight of the trip had to be the Hotel Maison du Fort Bed and Breakfast, where we stayed. Charming and cat-themed, it was a balm for my soul, as was delightful owner Marielle, who made every effort to ensure her guests were well looked after.

NB: I will upload photos and expand this entry soon, and upload my languishing entries for Oakville and Niagara Falls. Forgive me dear friends for the delays of late. The blog took a back seat while I have been ill off and on since early September, but I am doing better this week; serious cancer has been ruled out and that is an incredible relief.

Professor Rudie

We lost our beloved seal point Siamese Professor Rudie to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and a double thromboembolism last weekend, and I am alternately numb and raging with grief. Just at Thanksgiving he was front of the line for turkey when Heather was here.

On Saturday morning, I came into the living room and saw that he was paralyzed from the waist down on the floor. He was still playing with a toy with his front paws! 27 hrs later, he was gone. It happened so fast, and he died in my arms. I will be haunted by that for a long time. I told him we loved him and held him and stroked him, regardless of the mess that an exploding heart brings. That sweet, trusting, wily face with so much love... I would give anything to see it again and hear his loud alligator meow.

He was only 5. It is NOT FAIR. It was hereditary and we had no way of knowing. He was supposed to stay overnight at the vet for observation, but because they do not have anyone on site from 6pm to 9 am, we and our very kind, compassionate vet Dr Steven mutually decided that we would take him home overnight and bring him back when they opened. Thank the stars that we brought him home. It was his last night on this earth, and he spent it surrounded by love and in front of the warm fire with all of us around. He was sedated and on opiates, so he was fine, dragging himself around with his front paws and still trying to be our comical little Rudie. He died the next day.

Rudie was the fulcrum of our cat household. The lovable alpha. The other felines are depressed and at a loss without his star leadership. There is now another cat shaped hole in my heart that will never heal. I feel raw and angry and completely spent. How many tears can a person cry?

Good-bye, dear Rudie. I will never forget you.


Ohanaskye's Purrince Rudolph: June 6, 2002 - October 21, 2007

Rude-bear will be cremated with his favourite schmousie, his feather toy, a flower, and wrapped in my ratty old housecoat that he loved. We are trying to contact the caregivers of Rudie’s littermates; they need to know so they might save their kitties’ lives.

Niagara Falls - IPAP World Wide Paint Out 2007

I am in Niagara Falls for the 5th Annual IPAP World Wide Paint Out. Haven't been feeling so great physically lately, but my mind is hopefully here in full creative mode. Having worked here on several occasions, Niagara is now very familiar to me. I wonder if I will see anything fresh and new this trip?

The first day is monumentally frustrating. I cannot find my way! The wind tests my good nature and topples my easel repeatedly. I end up crouching to paint via the protection of a low wall. What does cheer me is seeing Debi Harwick painting one of the caleche horses, whilst singing along with her companion on guitar.

The next day is better. I truly enjoy the Quick Draw portion, and my entry, "Cobalt Trees" finds a home with someone who sees it at the outdoor exhibit. Ohio's Debra Joyce Dawson worked quietly behind me, painting my portrait en plein air, as I painted.

(I promise to insert a photo here, really)

So, I did see something fresh and new on this trip, through someone else's eyes.

As for my results, I am most satisfied with this work: it carries on the theme that I am exploring with cadmium red light. I find myself moving away from realism once again, and seeing everything in terms of the dialogues of energy, shape, mood and such. The pull is very strong. Can you give me a solid reason why I should I deny it?

The opening reception at Eagle Valley Golf Club is somewhat bittersweet. Jacq Baldini announces that this will be the last IPAP World Wide Paint Out that she will host in Niagara Falls, Ontario. While I do agree that it is time for someone else to take up the torch in another fabulous location, it will be sad to close this chapter of Plein Air history. Kudos to you, Jacq and your team, for all your fine efforts over the years in Niagara!

Oakville: Part 3

The final night takes place at the Win Henstock Gallery, where the staff have expertly hung the show. The upper gallery space is quite special. One wall is painted red a la the Tate, and I had hoped hard that if my work was accepted, that it had been hung on that incredibly striking surface. As I reached the entrance, I see five of my works are indeed hung on the red wall! Yippee! But where are the other two? Artist Cathie Gellatly grins slyly and points at the two paintings that didn't make the red wall. There they were, both Honorable Mentions, on the "Winner's Wall". Well, I just couldn't believe it. Wow! What an unexpected honour. Also to my great delight, old friends Holly and Jim have shown up for the opening.



(pic by Holly Walker)

I mingle, do the schmooze. I actually enjoy this part. Those who know me will laugh in understanding agreement. I am a born extrovert and just cannot help myself when it comes to meeting people and listening to their stories.

I must say, the best story from the Paint Out has got to go to Robert Amirault. Bob's painting of water lilies at Gairloch had somehow managed to tumble unseen into the busy parking lot, wet side up. After an exhaustive search complete with scent hounds on the trail, the poor panel was discovered. It had been run over by a good 10,000 tires. Demonstrating an extraordinary sense of humour, Bob submitted the black, gritty panel to the show, framed in an exquisite gilt frame, and titled it, "Ask Bob." Classic!

Afterwards, a bunch of us go to an Irish Pub for drinks and enjoy their version of the ongoing Oakville Jazz Festival. A perfect day. I hope that Plein Air Canada, Win Henstock Gallery, and Oakville host a Paint Out again sometime. Well done, all!

Oakville: Part 2

Win and Barry Henstock graciously invited the painters to work on the grounds of their estate one afternoon. Two models have been brought in to pose, and I am eager to try this. Shady spots are at a premium; it is incredibly hot, and the beautiful turquoise swimming pool beckons.

There is also a Quick Draw event scheduled for this Paint Out, wherein we must show up at a specific location and paint and frame a complete work in one hour. My favourite!! What a rush.

Oakville: Part 1

I am here, in my room at the Oakville Inn. It is very clean, I have lots of room, a kitchenette and a beautiful sleigh bed. Betty from Nigeria is the owner, and she greets me with friendly enthusiasm. African prints adorn the walls of my room, which faces a street that couldn’t be more white bread. I enjoy the contrast.

Morning, coffee is good. It is a hot, humid day already. Hazy. Sunny.

I get my gear together and head three blocks down to the Win Henstock Gallery where we are all to register for the paint out. I wait on a bench out front. Along comes one artist, and then another and then a pair traveling together, easels in tow. The latter two head out to paint, saying they’ll register later. We three left chitchat about this and that. One is a likable teacher, teaches teens and adult drawing. The other has been a studio painter for many years, but wants to take the plunge and work from life outdoors. Both are champions of traditional realism. They heartily bash an abstract watercolourist juror who did not allow the studio painter's works into a recent show. He sees it as “too easy” “splashy” and she claims, “you have to have SOME form in there.” The war of the realists vs fast 'n loose abstractionists continues!

Soon, gallery manager Andrea unlocks the door and gives us our name tags and a tour of the gorgeous gallery. She is friendly and helpful. We head off to paint.

I go down to the harbour and start there, then biked over to Gairloch for the afternoon. The gardens are small. The waterfront has some potential, and I adore painting water. Was doing a dance of avoiding biting flies while attempting to stab at a values underpainting when organizer and accomplished painter John Stuart Pryce (of Arctic Quest fame) saunters over. He is such a gentleman, and easy to get along with. We bitched about the biting flies, as was everyone else apparently!

Musing

Okay… focus, Brandy. No more indulgent fear.

Today, I must trek to the nearest city to purchase a whack of pro hanging hardware. I will be doing the framing in my room at the Inn for the Oakville show. I have an assortment of beautiful frames collected from here and there.

My muses for the trip: Carol (a collector from Florida who gives me inspiring feedback on my work in comparison to some really interesting artists); Pater Ludi in Bavaria, (truly generous with his comments); and Tonya, (a supportive collector in Illinois who has recently shared some personal insights) are all suitable choices.

But I dig deeper. The area is a port, surrounded by gardens and historical buildings. The inhabitants are wealthy commuters from Toronto’s Bay Street and the like. Homes are expensive, even a little Ontario Cottage is off the charts. I will be carless, and ride my folding bike everywhere, my easel strapped to the book rack. I shall be staying in what looks appears to be a frugal, sparse room above a Starbucks on the main drag. Who is such a marine painter’s muse? What can I focus on to get me through this, and paint brilliantly? My sister in America? She's been on my mind lately. She is the type of person who would live in historic Oakville. I heard from her about her own fabulous successes the other day and we emailed back and forth. She thoughtfully suggested I apply to be a consulting artist for the ice hotel in Finland. “You’d be gone for several months, but what an opportunity!” I’d love to, but maybe when I am an old lady. There's no way I could escape for that long with the ties and commitments I currently have to here. Think think think... Sz?

Yes, it is her. Writer, friend and supporter, she sees in my work the undertone of self-actualization, the thinking, meditating discovery as one is walking (or snowshoeing) through life. Sz goes off bravely to Taos writing workshops in spite of frenzied personal issues. She returns with stories of the good she found there, in spite of the politics and the seemingly insurmountable challenge of self-esteem. She steps aside from it. I shall follow her lead.

The Jitters

It’s a few days before I depart for Oakville, Ontario. Yesterday, someone from the hosting gallery called, to update me on a couple of details. She is very polite, professional and formal, and I get an Emerging Artist's Panic Moment. What have I gotten myself into? So I go over to their web page to see what their flavour is. I look at the works and wonder if they were done in the field. The talent is amazing. I am not worthy!

Notes from my Monhegan Journal: Part Five

PART FIVE:

Monhegan is BYOB island-wide, and they have wonderful wines in the tiny grocery. You can purchase a beer and walk around with it. One can hold a paintbrush in one hand, a wine glass in the other. In public! One day, I was doing just that, whilst moving vivid colours dreamily across the large canvas as I rendered a loose acrylic of the late afternoon setting sun over a cedar shingled structure. Long shadows. Butter yellow sky. As I took down my easel for the day, I heard applause from behind me. This made my senses jump back to a kind of reality. I turned around, and saw several smiling faces peering out windows of an Inn’s dining room! I curtsied deeply to them, then I realized I had a paintbrush in my mouth.

While there are a couple of places to dine indoors, serious seafood noshing is done outside, on the beach, at picnic tables at The Fish House:









Fellow workshop mate Mel Zeoli, a seascape painter who looks more like he belongs here than I certainly do, and his sunny wife Janice, are at the next picnic table enjoying a similar feast.

I’ve read that Monhegan has an excellent, ecologically protected lobstering program. Only the large are caught, the smaller ones can escape the ingeniously designed traps. Over-fishing is not permitted, and the economy relies on the availability of lobster year after year. As a result the price is appropriately dear. Regardless, I indulgently partook of the sweet, succulent free-range lobster every single day. (And thought of P’s step-daughter Ilse every time! Ilse lives in Bavaria and lives for lobster dinners brought in via FEDEX by her doting mate.)

The Fish House offers up lobster chowder, lobster salad, lobster sandwiches (aka “lobster rolls”), lobster stew (a heavenly concoction of lobster, fresh cream, butter and herbs), lobster ice cream (kidding) and lobster in the shell. And of course… Where there are tasty crustaceans to be had…

Pointing a jeweled, buttery finger, J. said quietly: “Pssst… hey Brandy… aren’t those the cats you like?”

I leapt out of my seat and gasped for joy as two cobby, thick-furred rascals came sauntering towards us and our crab and lobster feast. Going into “cat lure mode,” I spoke to them; “Goood kitties! Here my sweeties, meowwwrr! purrr purr…… such HANDSOME fellows… crazy cat-loving person here at your service…!” Crawling on my knees, waving shreds of lobster and encouraging them forth from the yard next to the Fish House, my camera clicking for you, dearest cat-loving portion of my readers.







Aren’t they SOLID? Crossed eyed! They let me pet them as they rolled on the sandy beach. My companions at the picnic table howled.




Happy face in the mist:




My trip was complete. I had painted many paintings, eaten lobster, done a whack of thinking. I had found the Siamese.

The sun set, I slept without Nightmares By The Sea, and made my way back to the mainland on the scary vessel. The island did not captivate me immediately, but after seriously pulling on the reigns, ceasing all expectations of myself, and slowing down my pace I am now irreversibly drawn to the place. Yes, I will go back again next year.

Cheers,
BKG



Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Notes from my Monhegan Journal: Part Four

PART FOUR:

One day, I roamed the rocky crags of Lobster Cove and gloomy Christmas Cove:





Indulge me, please? To follow are my usual collection of artsy texture shots, via the point and shoot cam. These really help me explore the shapes and pigments I will use in my paintings.






















Check out those skies…



A group of us painters, taken by a passing tourist. I am holding my pochade painting of the beached ship above.



Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five