At runway's end
wings swing round
then stop. Roaring
increases, ground rushes
past, then drops off.
Earth turns to air,
fence-post hawks shrink
to mice, fields become
blankets.
Jagged peaks ring
higher distances of
afternoon beyond a
sun-burnished shadow
racing a solitary boat,
out of reach.
The downhill roll into
Port Browning leads to the
flash of thousand-bellied
herring in deep darkness
at dock's end. Jellyfish
flex, silent. Crows bark.
The oily smoothness dissolves....
Whiskers dripping, a harbour
seal watches a gull poke its
beak into feathers under its
wing, scream over the water,
and lift into air.
Rojan Zét
A community of artists living and working on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada
Monday, March 28, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Marilyn Peeters
Profile of an Artist
Marilyn is an expressionist painter working and residing on Vancouver Island. Art has been a strong passion for her from a very young age. In the 70’s, she majored in Fine Art in high school with the dream to further her art studies, but life chose a different path for her at the time.
Her and her husband moved to the Vancouver Island during the 80’s where she extended her knowledge in art working as a versatile artist throughout the Comox Valley. Marilyn volunteered with a theatre group where she gained extensive experience as a set designer and painter. With this experience, she was offered many mural jobs from the downtown Courtenay and Campbell River BC merchants. Soon after, she decided to complete her studies of Fine Art with North Island College and Emily Carr University and completed her BFA in 2009.
Today her art reflects on the environment with her passion of nature in her non-traditional landscapes with paint. She explores a sensorial perception of the BC forest through her painting process. The qualities of the landscape elevate her imagination and positive energy becomes the driving force in the creation of her work. Each painting refers to a particular place in nature, yet they are unidentifiable taken from its specific location. She paints with bold, vivid colour that allows a luminosity to vibrate and each piece has a strong sense of light. Working in a large-scale format allows her to work with a loose, gestural brushstroke.
Marilyn has exhibited her work in galleries and restaurants across Victoria, Courtenay, Campbell River, Nanaimo and other public places in Comox BC such as the Comox Airport, and St Joseph’s Hospital and her international exposure includes, Dubai, UAE.
For more information about Marilyn Peeters visit www.marilynpeeters.com
Marilyn is an expressionist painter working and residing on Vancouver Island. Art has been a strong passion for her from a very young age. In the 70’s, she majored in Fine Art in high school with the dream to further her art studies, but life chose a different path for her at the time.
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Her and her husband moved to the Vancouver Island during the 80’s where she extended her knowledge in art working as a versatile artist throughout the Comox Valley. Marilyn volunteered with a theatre group where she gained extensive experience as a set designer and painter. With this experience, she was offered many mural jobs from the downtown Courtenay and Campbell River BC merchants. Soon after, she decided to complete her studies of Fine Art with North Island College and Emily Carr University and completed her BFA in 2009.
Today her art reflects on the environment with her passion of nature in her non-traditional landscapes with paint. She explores a sensorial perception of the BC forest through her painting process. The qualities of the landscape elevate her imagination and positive energy becomes the driving force in the creation of her work. Each painting refers to a particular place in nature, yet they are unidentifiable taken from its specific location. She paints with bold, vivid colour that allows a luminosity to vibrate and each piece has a strong sense of light. Working in a large-scale format allows her to work with a loose, gestural brushstroke.
Marilyn has exhibited her work in galleries and restaurants across Victoria, Courtenay, Campbell River, Nanaimo and other public places in Comox BC such as the Comox Airport, and St Joseph’s Hospital and her international exposure includes, Dubai, UAE.
For more information about Marilyn Peeters visit www.marilynpeeters.com
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Deuce
© 2001, 2004 Manuel Erickson
Bernard Churchill loved being a locomotive engineer. He was fond of all the engines whose controls came under his fingers, but his favourite was a little coal-fired steam engine, Number 2, a Baldwin, that everyone called "Deuce." Eventually, Bernard spent less time with the other engines and more with Deuce.
She weighed just 50 tons, but Bernard felt that Deuce could more than pull her weight. He knew her history. Instinct told him that Deuce's success bore little relation to her size. Deuce was already thirty years old when she became Bernard’s regular responsibility. She had worked for fifteen years on Comox Logging and Railway Company’s level mainline—or what the local people called the CLR—hauling logs to the dump at Royston, near Courtenay. She had also been a “bullcook” engine, bringing supplies and crew cars to logging camps and equipment to fight forest fires. For fifteen more years Bernard and Deuce steamed up and down the Comox line.
Bernard delighted everyone with tall stories about running Deuce full tilt through the timber stands. In one of these, she encountered a cougar. "We—Deuce and me—was goin' full blast haulin' a load of logs to Royston, an' all of a sudden a real big black cat come outta the trees, makin' t'cross the tracks. It was real close to us an’ I had no chance t'blow the whistle. We hit the thing, of course. The cow-catcher caught it an' it went up an' over the cab. I looked out as we rounded a bend, an' that cat was runnin' like fury into the trees. Y'know how they always land on their feet? I dunno who was more surprised, the cat or me!"
By 1960 Deuce was fifty years old. Bernard had retired. Times were changing and so was the CLR's equipment. A new behemoth, a diesel, came onto the scene, and Number 2 was scheduled to become scrap metal.
Courtenay's city council heard of Deuce's impending demise. A councillor raised his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor," he said. "This city would not have become what it is today without the Comox Logging and Railway Company. The age of steam is now drawing to a close. I move that we commemorate both the CLR and the power of steam by acquiring old Number 2, the Deuce!"
A discussion followed. "We have better things to do with these funds than put a beat-up old relic on display," said one councillor. "We need two secretaries," said another. "Such money could get us that help."
The Mayor finally called for a vote. "All those in favour, please raise your hands."
"Against?" He glanced along the line of councillors, none of whom had raised his hand. The Mayor smiled because he knew those who objected did not want to be in a minority. "Carried."
And so it was.
Deuce, her paint shining and whistle blowing, ran once more under her own power along the E & N Railway from Ladysmith to Courtenay. Those who loved steam, and there were quite a few, wore broad smiles, and some wore tears, too. As she pulled in to her new home they did not talk. They stood, listening to the escaping steam softly whispering hiss-s-s.
The engineer extinguished the fire in her boiler and the engine became quiet. He climbed down from the cab and stood there for a minute, looking at Deuce. He took off his cap and wiped his eyes with a shirt sleeve.
It was the end of an era for Deuce. She was displayed beside the highway where the townsfolk admired her, but she had become cold and lifeless.
By 1989 Deuce had stayed in one spot for twenty-nine years as a proud representative of a past era: admired, photographed-and vandalized. Her paint faded and peeled and rust showed among the bird droppings.
In the 1990s the City of Courtenay recognized that Deuce deserved better treatment. Council passed a motion to make funds available to repaint and build a shelter for her.
Today she rests comfortably inside the shelter, protected from vandals, birds and children's climbing feet by a locked chain-link fence and a permanent roof. She is still beside the highway, kept company by the tourist bureau and a colourful First Nations totem pole.
Deuce is now over ninety years old. She doesn't-she cannot-move. Her taps and levers are rusted in place as if encased in ice.
The age of steam is gone, but Deuce speaks to those who visit her. Despite the rust and her controls frozen in time, she is still a feisty lady.
Stand in her cab with your hand on a lever. Feel the driving wheels click-clacking along the rails. Hear her gleaming brass bell clanging and her shrill whistle cutting the air. Look behind: it is 1950 once again and her smoke trails back.
Deuce was a faithful engine. Rebuilding her would awaken the age of steam, if only a little. It has been done before.
She could run on a part of the Comox line. Her shiny brass bell, sharp whistle and chuffing smoke stack would thrill everyone who saw her or rode with her. She would put happy smiles on the faces of new generations and pull delighted tourists gawking from restored passenger car windows. Perhaps Deuce could even deliver occasional cargo such as surface mail.
Why, some say Bernard Churchill is with her still.
~ Manuel Erickson
Bernard Churchill loved being a locomotive engineer. He was fond of all the engines whose controls came under his fingers, but his favourite was a little coal-fired steam engine, Number 2, a Baldwin, that everyone called "Deuce." Eventually, Bernard spent less time with the other engines and more with Deuce.
She weighed just 50 tons, but Bernard felt that Deuce could more than pull her weight. He knew her history. Instinct told him that Deuce's success bore little relation to her size. Deuce was already thirty years old when she became Bernard’s regular responsibility. She had worked for fifteen years on Comox Logging and Railway Company’s level mainline—or what the local people called the CLR—hauling logs to the dump at Royston, near Courtenay. She had also been a “bullcook” engine, bringing supplies and crew cars to logging camps and equipment to fight forest fires. For fifteen more years Bernard and Deuce steamed up and down the Comox line.
 The Deuce in her shelter, Courtenay ~ Manuel Erickson photograph |
Bernard delighted everyone with tall stories about running Deuce full tilt through the timber stands. In one of these, she encountered a cougar. "We—Deuce and me—was goin' full blast haulin' a load of logs to Royston, an' all of a sudden a real big black cat come outta the trees, makin' t'cross the tracks. It was real close to us an’ I had no chance t'blow the whistle. We hit the thing, of course. The cow-catcher caught it an' it went up an' over the cab. I looked out as we rounded a bend, an' that cat was runnin' like fury into the trees. Y'know how they always land on their feet? I dunno who was more surprised, the cat or me!"
By 1960 Deuce was fifty years old. Bernard had retired. Times were changing and so was the CLR's equipment. A new behemoth, a diesel, came onto the scene, and Number 2 was scheduled to become scrap metal.
Courtenay's city council heard of Deuce's impending demise. A councillor raised his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor," he said. "This city would not have become what it is today without the Comox Logging and Railway Company. The age of steam is now drawing to a close. I move that we commemorate both the CLR and the power of steam by acquiring old Number 2, the Deuce!"
A discussion followed. "We have better things to do with these funds than put a beat-up old relic on display," said one councillor. "We need two secretaries," said another. "Such money could get us that help."
The Mayor finally called for a vote. "All those in favour, please raise your hands."
"Against?" He glanced along the line of councillors, none of whom had raised his hand. The Mayor smiled because he knew those who objected did not want to be in a minority. "Carried."
And so it was.
Deuce, her paint shining and whistle blowing, ran once more under her own power along the E & N Railway from Ladysmith to Courtenay. Those who loved steam, and there were quite a few, wore broad smiles, and some wore tears, too. As she pulled in to her new home they did not talk. They stood, listening to the escaping steam softly whispering hiss-s-s.
The engineer extinguished the fire in her boiler and the engine became quiet. He climbed down from the cab and stood there for a minute, looking at Deuce. He took off his cap and wiped his eyes with a shirt sleeve.
It was the end of an era for Deuce. She was displayed beside the highway where the townsfolk admired her, but she had become cold and lifeless.
By 1989 Deuce had stayed in one spot for twenty-nine years as a proud representative of a past era: admired, photographed-and vandalized. Her paint faded and peeled and rust showed among the bird droppings.
In the 1990s the City of Courtenay recognized that Deuce deserved better treatment. Council passed a motion to make funds available to repaint and build a shelter for her.
Today she rests comfortably inside the shelter, protected from vandals, birds and children's climbing feet by a locked chain-link fence and a permanent roof. She is still beside the highway, kept company by the tourist bureau and a colourful First Nations totem pole.
Deuce is now over ninety years old. She doesn't-she cannot-move. Her taps and levers are rusted in place as if encased in ice.
The age of steam is gone, but Deuce speaks to those who visit her. Despite the rust and her controls frozen in time, she is still a feisty lady.
Stand in her cab with your hand on a lever. Feel the driving wheels click-clacking along the rails. Hear her gleaming brass bell clanging and her shrill whistle cutting the air. Look behind: it is 1950 once again and her smoke trails back.
Deuce was a faithful engine. Rebuilding her would awaken the age of steam, if only a little. It has been done before.
She could run on a part of the Comox line. Her shiny brass bell, sharp whistle and chuffing smoke stack would thrill everyone who saw her or rode with her. She would put happy smiles on the faces of new generations and pull delighted tourists gawking from restored passenger car windows. Perhaps Deuce could even deliver occasional cargo such as surface mail.
Why, some say Bernard Churchill is with her still.
~ Manuel Erickson
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Magic Lake Heron , poetry by Yvonne MacKenzie
kneeling at the end of the dock
weathered boards splinter the inward gaze
and the clamour of hungry ghosts begins to fade across the lake
darkling minnows swirl below the surface of the water
sieving the mind of errands and unrest
when all at once a great blue heron settles on the shore
he folds me in to the peace of his wings
and the old ache recedes
yet his spear-like beak belies the stillness of his pose
and warns against complacency
he is silent but his song resounds in my heart
attuned to the counsel of reeds and the soft breath of lilies
we float together in this living chalice
arrested in time
the confluence of our being a stillpoint of grace
there will come a time for the seedpod to burst
for the motion of discourse and service
but for now
I am willing to pause
while the scroll of pollen unwinds its fulgent message
of sweetness yet to come
while the birds teach me a new tongue to describe the mystery
Yvonne MacKenzie
weathered boards splinter the inward gaze
and the clamour of hungry ghosts begins to fade across the lake
darkling minnows swirl below the surface of the water
sieving the mind of errands and unrest
when all at once a great blue heron settles on the shore
he folds me in to the peace of his wings
and the old ache recedes
yet his spear-like beak belies the stillness of his pose
and warns against complacency
he is silent but his song resounds in my heart
attuned to the counsel of reeds and the soft breath of lilies
we float together in this living chalice
arrested in time
the confluence of our being a stillpoint of grace
there will come a time for the seedpod to burst
for the motion of discourse and service
but for now
I am willing to pause
while the scroll of pollen unwinds its fulgent message
of sweetness yet to come
while the birds teach me a new tongue to describe the mystery
Yvonne MacKenzie
Vancouver Island, springtime is coming
"Spring chicken", digital painting by Ron Greenaway. Inspired by the days getting longer.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Mirages
While a fisherman cast his nets, two jets
left Libya, flying low over the Med waving
sunshine below, and back on the street,
placards high in the square, two hundred
people fell strafed from the air.
Jets over Libya screamed down at the crowd and
snuffed out those voices getting louder than loud
like the roar of the engines over the wave
of the sunshine reflected by people who gave
up their lives while the life of the one who
oppressed them escapes to be sheltered by
others who stress them.
Two jets left Libya carrying souls for refueling,
while deep in the ocean our fish are re-schooling
and fishers are floating whether distant or near,
remaining alive to the screaming we hear.
Rojan Zét
left Libya, flying low over the Med waving
sunshine below, and back on the street,
placards high in the square, two hundred
people fell strafed from the air.
Jets over Libya screamed down at the crowd and
snuffed out those voices getting louder than loud
like the roar of the engines over the wave
of the sunshine reflected by people who gave
up their lives while the life of the one who
oppressed them escapes to be sheltered by
others who stress them.
Two jets left Libya carrying souls for refueling,
while deep in the ocean our fish are re-schooling
and fishers are floating whether distant or near,
remaining alive to the screaming we hear.
Rojan Zét
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