There seems to be a major disconnect taking place here.
Because is it possible to imagine two more mutually exclusionary representations of both a country and a land mass?
The one on the left from outside Canada, and specifically from the United States.
And the one on the right from inside Canada, as a country whose sense of “identity” has, since the end of the American Revolution in 1783, been based largely on distinguishing itself from the much more populous, powerful, and frequently expansionist nation state to the south.
This does seem a bit ridiculous.
As well as a little ominous, given that the map on the right seems also to suggest Canada’s own potential isolation in the world, and an implicit answer to the cover question, with this added emphasis: “WOULD ANYONE NOTICE IF CANADA DISAPPEARED?”
Especially when an ad designer / mapmaker in Canada thought there would be appeal, within Canada, to representing the rest of the world as “THE OCEAN”.
Meditations on a lake view, a three part essay published by Lear’s Shadow.
I have added a small picture to the top of the left hand column. That picture will be a thumbnail sample of various art galleries I like, and I think most of them with be Canadian First Nations artists. It’s one way to honour my Aboriginal heritage and foreground it a little here.
The current link is to a gallery of work by Coast Salish artist Susan Point.
Enjoy.
Portrait of a woman in pink and blue
by Joash Woodrow
Joash Woodrow has made his debut. Although he has been working since the 1950s and has produced over 3500 paintings, the 77 year-old reclusive British artist has, until now, worked in complete solitude.
During the course of clearing out Woodrow’s three-bedroom house in March, 2001, his brother Saul sent a box of 100 books to an antique bookshop, and unknowingly included several in which Woodrow had painted over the pages. The owner, Richard Axe, intrigued at the bold, colourful illustrations, contacted an artist friend, who called Andrew Stewart, owner of the 108 gallery.
The following day an excited Stewart visited Woodrow’s home to investigate further, and was so impressed that he took away 60 pieces for restoration. After they were restored a year later, a small exhibition was staged to introduce the world to Joash Woodrow.
His work is on display at 108-fineart in Harrogate, Yorkshire.
There is some amazing writing and thinking going on at Interconnected at the moment.
Distance is the half-life of causality. Quantum fluctuations evaporate and disperse in the isness; shouts get diluted in the atmosphere.
I can’t pretend to understand most of what he is saying in the posts that follow, but it makes for a highly time-intensive and challenging browse.
Three parts of a longer poem by George Albon, from his book Thousands Count Out Loud:
He reassured
himself with
himself with
the smallest,
the almost
unborn thought.
It held a
center that
harpies clawed.
*
It is going
between (the bus).
Part of me
will actually
miss this
music.
A gust of
wind like gale.
*
Waking,
life,
& white
shines out
from the blue
sky with
a sound in
it, window.
These put me in mind of the summeriness of today: clear moving air, with lots of blue and white in it. These poems come via: Overlap: Drew Gardner’s Blog.
And the title of Albon’s book, Thousands Count Out Loud is, I am sure, taken from Gertrude Stein’s A Grammerian:
Thousands count out loud.
The way thousands count out loud they do it with moving their lips.
Made a mountain out of.
Now this is perfectly a description of an emplacement.
If you think of grammar as a part.
Can one reduce grammar to one.
One two three all out but she
The way thousands count out loud they do it with moving their lips.
Made a mountain out of.
Now this is perfectly a description of an emplacement.
If you think of grammar as a part.
Can one reduce grammar to one.
One two three all out but she
Which I found quoted in a long essay about Stein’s creative non-fiction.