Home is where the heart is, watercolour by Donna Hogan
A community of artists living and working on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada
Friday, February 24, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The Innocent
© Manuel Erickson
"HERE," SAID ARCHIBALD, GIVING ME A FROZEN BURRITO. "You deal with it." He stomped off into the bush somewhere, his boots breaking dry twigs.
"It" was a slug-like animal and it was beautiful. It was about six inches long with four short and slender legs, each ending in four toe-like appendages. It had a narrow slit for a mouth and the beginnings of lips. Its eyes were in the front of its face and they had no lids. Its body was plump, fleshy—a lovely mix of black, green and red spots and stripes on a matte yellow. There were no ears that I could see. Its back end tapered gracefully to a blunt point.
I sat on the ground beside it.
The animal's head moved slightly from side to side, then up and down, as if it were saying “no,” then “yes.” The movement repeated a number of times.
I knew that Archibald expected me to be done by the time he returned.
I picked up the burrito and held it in my right hand between my thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t comfortable, so I moved my hand to another corner. The fourth corner was easier to hold.
The animal started to move forward. I raised my arm and brought the sharp edge of the stiff burrito down onto the head of the animal. It looked at me as if to say, “You want my attention?” and continued forward.
I repeated the movement, harder, then harder and harder. At last I made an opening in the animal's skin that, for him (her?) was deep. Its blood was the same colour as my own: bright red.
The animal stopped and covered its face with its toes, spread out. I felt like a murderer.
Again and again I struck—again and again. Finally, the animal was dead still.
I fled before Archibald returned.
~ by Manuel Erickson
"HERE," SAID ARCHIBALD, GIVING ME A FROZEN BURRITO. "You deal with it." He stomped off into the bush somewhere, his boots breaking dry twigs.
"It" was a slug-like animal and it was beautiful. It was about six inches long with four short and slender legs, each ending in four toe-like appendages. It had a narrow slit for a mouth and the beginnings of lips. Its eyes were in the front of its face and they had no lids. Its body was plump, fleshy—a lovely mix of black, green and red spots and stripes on a matte yellow. There were no ears that I could see. Its back end tapered gracefully to a blunt point.
I sat on the ground beside it.
The animal's head moved slightly from side to side, then up and down, as if it were saying “no,” then “yes.” The movement repeated a number of times.
I knew that Archibald expected me to be done by the time he returned.
I picked up the burrito and held it in my right hand between my thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t comfortable, so I moved my hand to another corner. The fourth corner was easier to hold.
The animal started to move forward. I raised my arm and brought the sharp edge of the stiff burrito down onto the head of the animal. It looked at me as if to say, “You want my attention?” and continued forward.
I repeated the movement, harder, then harder and harder. At last I made an opening in the animal's skin that, for him (her?) was deep. Its blood was the same colour as my own: bright red.
The animal stopped and covered its face with its toes, spread out. I felt like a murderer.
Again and again I struck—again and again. Finally, the animal was dead still.
I fled before Archibald returned.
~ by Manuel Erickson
Friday, February 17, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Life Is Art In Cowichan Bay
Smooth-sanded and oiled,
this marine varnished morning,
the sea still as glass,
Cowichan Bay
reflects the encircling
enchantment of wooden boats,
hand polished and painted,
bright in the early sun.
Reflected mast and boom, cable,
hull, cabin and spar,
still upon the water,
shimmering, a retreating dream,
at once clear and remembered.
From my window
in a cheese and soup shop
on a pier built out over the water,
I see houses on floats
every plank, shutter, and painted planter,
window and wooden latice reflected
in the mirror.
Sea gulls pose
as porcelain angels,
statues of themselves,
on pilings rising from the water,
traditional, well tended
wooden boats, old retiring fishermen,
nuzzle wooden wharves, sleeping
each with his double.
~ by Charles Van Gorkom
this marine varnished morning,
the sea still as glass,
Cowichan Bay
reflects the encircling
enchantment of wooden boats,
hand polished and painted,
bright in the early sun.
Reflected mast and boom, cable,
hull, cabin and spar,
still upon the water,
shimmering, a retreating dream,
at once clear and remembered.
From my window
in a cheese and soup shop
on a pier built out over the water,
I see houses on floats
every plank, shutter, and painted planter,
window and wooden latice reflected
in the mirror.
Sea gulls pose
as porcelain angels,
statues of themselves,
on pilings rising from the water,
traditional, well tended
wooden boats, old retiring fishermen,
nuzzle wooden wharves, sleeping
each with his double.
~ by Charles Van Gorkom
Monday, February 13, 2012
A Vancouver Island Valentine
Raven love, mixed media by Ron Greenaway
We wish a day of love & peace for all from the Cowichan Valley Arts Café
Friday, February 3, 2012
Jane Wolters, Vancouver Island Potter
Profile of an Artist
Born in England, Jane has lived on Vancouver Island most of her life. She has been a professional potter for over 30 years, working mainly in stoneware and porcelain. She finds the tactile quality of clay and the act of throwing on the wheel irresistibly seductive. The vessel form appeals to her as the ultimate in abstraction; its parts are even named after the body: lip, neck, shoulder, belly, foot.
Although technically "self-taught", never having gone to art school, she did take wheel-throwing lessons in the beginning, and since then she’s been fortunate to have attended many valuable workshops with outstanding potters from all over the world, and has taken courses in various subjects including portrait sculpture.
About 10 years ago she began learning to paint in oils in an effort to find a creative outlet that was not so physically demanding. In the process she has learned a great deal of art theory, history, and design. Oil on canvas is currently her favourite painting medium; the sensuous feel of the paint coming off the brush onto the canvas, the way the paint smells, the look of the thick oil paint building up on the surface, all feel right.
"I feel incredibly lucky to be an artist. There are always new ideas, new paths to travel along, and there are never enough hours in the day to explore them."
Learn more about Jane Wolters at www.janewolters.com
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Although technically "self-taught", never having gone to art school, she did take wheel-throwing lessons in the beginning, and since then she’s been fortunate to have attended many valuable workshops with outstanding potters from all over the world, and has taken courses in various subjects including portrait sculpture.
About 10 years ago she began learning to paint in oils in an effort to find a creative outlet that was not so physically demanding. In the process she has learned a great deal of art theory, history, and design. Oil on canvas is currently her favourite painting medium; the sensuous feel of the paint coming off the brush onto the canvas, the way the paint smells, the look of the thick oil paint building up on the surface, all feel right.
"I feel incredibly lucky to be an artist. There are always new ideas, new paths to travel along, and there are never enough hours in the day to explore them."
Learn more about Jane Wolters at www.janewolters.com
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