Blog # 112…December, 2020

For some of us, twenty- twenty seems to have been all about losses - places to go, people to see, choices, feeling safe and a good night’s sleep.  The gains in access to streaming and the closeness of friends have attempted  to fill the gap and sometimes succeed, but we’re left with a ragged sense of what’s missing, like the phantom pain of an amputated limb.

Isn’t that just the cheery note to introduce the matter of Christmas!  The days are counting down  as covid numbers are mounting up and plans for family gatherings and office parties are being struck off the calendar. We’ve had to make lots of cancellations -  holidays, concerts, even seeing relatives … life seems to be closing in on us, especially as the days get darker.

Our house has been a spot to gather both for Christmas Eve, a somewhat traditional Quebecois meal served with bagpipes, and then Christmas Day around the dining room table.  We thought we’d do an outside hot cider party, with masks and distancing for the night before Christmas and that's still a possibility, I'm sure not more than 10 hardy souls will turn up, and we'll be in touch about it soon.  Christmas dinner though, we wanted to cook so we’ve done a pivot, like the restaurants, and are going to have take-out dinners ready for our friends instead of sitting together. Not as we’d wish it to be, but better than nothing…that’s become a slogan!

As you think of your Christmas plans (and some people will find the lack of the usual festivities a relief) a pivot may be necessary for you too… it’s important not to completely abandon arrangements and find yourself forlorn as the day approaches. So, the art of being flexible and thinking creatively will help get through it - could be alone with a favourite dish, maybe support a local restaurant that's providing special take out dinners, or cook something for someone else who’s alone.  It doesn’t have to be a big plan, could be just getting out some decorations or making a phone call to someone  to say hello.  Maybe it's time to establish a new tradition for future Christmases.

I’ve always loved what Louis Riel said about artists “My people will sleep for one hundred years but when they awake, it will be the artists who give them their spirit back.” Artists are helping us hold on to our spirits during this difficult time – writers helping provide a language for our experience, making us conscious of the common themes, musicians popping up on front porches as well as in grand concert halls, photographers recording our stories, dancers delighting us with their grace and visual artists interpreting our feelings and touching our hearts.

Maybe your Christmas Day could include a book or some music, quietly enjoying a reflective time with Anne Murray's new relaease in the spirit of the season,...and remember to be grateful not to be in a small boat with a vicious tiger.

                                          

Whatever you do, the day will pass, January will arrive on schedule and we'll be in touch to start a brand new year. See you then, stay calm, safe, kind and patient. Should we add hopeful?

                       

 

Blog # 111…November 2020 

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately staring mindlessly out the windows of my house, watching the local squirrels, one grey, a couple of blacks.  They’re always pretty active in their jerky unpredictable way, making improbable leaps from one slim branch to another with an air of having fun. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I notice a certain sense of purpose now, the days are darkening, there’s less take- out food bits to forage from the trash and lean times are ahead.

Lean times are ahead for us too…winter won’t be brightened by movies, plays, concerts, parties, dinners or any of the things we normally enjoy to warm our spirits.  I know, we’re pretty used to that other normal being in the distant past and we’ve made adjustments to taking advantage of things online.   BUT… the upcoming 6 months are going to be different, maybe rich in some ways, or totally bleak, probably a bit of both.

I learned a hard lesson from the lockdown in March and went from being a very fit person  to being handicapped in many ways by loss of strength, mobility and stamina, vulnerable to injury and depression. I was used to swimming at least 3 times a week for an hour plus walking to and from the pool and lots of other places. When the pool and other things closed suddenly, I didn’t pay attention to replacing the exercise and six months later I’m in a much diminished state, working hard at physio and exercise now, but an ounce of prevention…well you know what I mean.

So back to the squirrels, seems to me a certain amount of forecasting and preparing for winter might avoid getting caught without the human equivalent of nourishment.  Everyone will have their own version of cultural comfort food - a friend is collecting movie titles and books he’s always intended to read and we’ve all got closets, desks and things to organize. But I’m also going to seek out things to make me laugh…Fawlty Towers, Mr Bean - may put out a call for suggestions for us to share. It’s crucial not to pretend this is normal times, we’ve got every right to feel displaced, sad, unhinged and abandoned in our own unique ways.

My experience with losing fitness makes me realize we can’t live unconsciously any more.  We need to pay attention to how we live, and think about how others live too. Lucky that mindfulness came along when it did!  Paying attention to staying in touch is important, if you don’t have a network, find one, don’t wait for people to reach out, do it yourself. Another friend is sending a card to someone every morning, and most impressive, she’s a young woman - using the mail!  And people are creating chat rooms to talk about books, tell stories, share small wonders or just gripe about how they feel. 

Another squirrel thing is creating a cozy nest…the Danes call it hygge, surrounding yourself with soft sweaters, blankets and low lights. And since we probably won’t be going to many masked balls this winter, how about putting on your favourite outfit sometimes just because it’s Tuesday, call some friends and suggest a dress-up day and exchange ideas about what to wear.

And whatever you do, get some regular exercise, put all your joints through their full range at least once a day (a tip from a dancer I know), walk outside wearing your mask, it’s like a uniform, it’ll make you feel less alone as well as safer. Or if you can’t manage that, walk around your kitchen table to some marching music. I got a wonderful little pedal machine that sits under my desk and I use it a couple of times a day, pretending I’m cycling beside the Italian Lakes or along a street in Copenhagen. And don’t forget to exercise your voice, sing for a few minutes every day, lots of good lyrics online…my favourite is Kiss Me Kate, but anything will do.

So as winter moves in, I’m going to talk about the art of surviving in the upcoming months, and welcome comments, suggestions, notes of desperation, whatever you’ve got on your mind.  Good for those of you who’ve joined me (and Dan Levy) in the UofA Indigenous Canada course – tell your friends about it.

See you in December, and, adding to Bonnie Henry’s encouragement to be kind, be calm and be safe, I’m adding - be patient.

 

Blog # 110…October, 2020

I’ve been thinking a lot about artificial intelligence lately, picturing it like a sly little demon lurking in the shadows ready to pounce and take over some part of my life.  Notice that it’s not alternative or replacement intelligence but artificial…forced, contrived, sham, stilted, all imply a copy of something natural, not as good as the original, think artificial flowers or vanilla.

The word artificial has its root in art - created by humans - reflecting natural forms like the rendering of animals on cave walls, progressing to landscapes, portraits and still life. One definition mentions lack of spontaneity.

So, I was intrigued recently to hear Janelle  Shane, who has a PhD in electrical engineering,  a MSc in physics and a delicious sense of humour,  speak about her new book,  You Look Like a Thing and I Love You.  Although it's not a great pick up line,  I did get the book and was amazed (and comforted) by what I learned but most of all it gave me a great number of uproarious laughs…a rare commodity these days!

So, you may be interested in the comforting things – AI can only perform in a narrow, tight path, can’t do critical thinking and can’t do much at all without humans...whew!  Janelle quotes leading machine learning researcher Andrew Ng, “Worrying about an AI takeover is like worrying about crowding on Mars.” Not in our lifetime or probably the next either.

It was also comforting to see the difficulty AI has with learning simple things we find easy, like composing Knock knock jokes or creating recipes. That’s where the belly laughs came in - the recipes it came up with in particular, with titles like Basic Clam Frosting or ingredients like peeled rosemary and six tablespoons electric mixer or Spread Chicken Rice where you could use either 1cup of shredded fresh mint or raspberry pie…no mention of chicken.

There’s a lot about self driving cars which are much in the news and have a long way to go before they can be without an alert human to take over when the algorithm doesn’t recognize an object or situation. They're closer on the horizon and bear watching.

The takeaway here is that what we have now is artificial narrow intelligence, what we often see in books and movies is artificial general intelligence. So if you see a robot that can beat you at chess, tell you a story, bake you a cake and name three things larger than a lobster, it’s solidly the stuff of science fiction, nothing wrong with SF, just don’t believe it’s here now.

Last month I threw out the idea of sharing stories of the past 6 months and got four people ready to go, so we'll be starting a thread in the next few weeks. Lots of room if you want to join, to write or to read, just let me know and I'll weave your address into the cloth of experiences in this covid world.

Back in the cruellest month, or can it be the kindest? Let's try for that.  

And let's see The New Yorker's take on AI, hmmm maybe we've known people like that too.

But wait, there's more. This just in from the University of Alberta...in case you're still thinking about aboriginal issues and what to do about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission report, Uof A is offering a terrific course through Coursera called Indigenous Canada. I started it this morning, and apparently so did Dan Levy, another reason to love the guy!

 

Blog # 109…September, 2020

Sometimes I wonder if we’ll look back on this time with the nostalgia people have for the blitz in Britain.  Will we forget the disruption, anxiety and sadness and cling to memories of the silence, the challenge and accomplishment of change, the unexpected closeness to other people? Our memories play weird tricks, converting the horrors of war into feelings of camaraderie and common purpose or the discomfort of change into a focus on the result.

We tend to think of creativity as producing a painting or a play, but creating a life with the available materials these days can be an amazing act, to be recognized and appreciated.  I’ve had a bit of experience with homeless people and with refugees and, in both cases, have been struck by the ingenuity they show in getting through a difficult set of circumstances.  I’m not diminishing the anguish of their collective losses or the despair of their futures by comparing our lives to theirs, just speculating on how we may be having similar feelings.

So we’re learning to practice a variety of arts…the  art of being flexible, of being patient and  of taking risks, to name only a few. And as with learning to perform any new art, there’s some thinking and practicing involved, and resources to be consulted.

 Long a believer in how reading can help make sense of life and our place in the world, I recently came across The Novel Cure – compiled by a couple of women who’d been students together at Oxford. It’s an A-Z of literary remedies, covering everything from addictions to zestlessness, a stubbed toe or a case of the blues,with wisdom, humour and an obvious love of reading. Among my favourites: Being in a jam – pick up Yann Martell’s Life of Pi, at least you’re not trapped in a small boat with a tiger! Not taking enough risks? In The Sense of and Ending, Julian Barnes explores how an elderly man regrets his life of being safe and somewhat cowardly when he thought he was being mature and responsible. And in the chapter on procrastination Kazuo Ishiguro, in The Remains of the Day, asks “Why do today what can be left till tomorrow? “

And finally, we’ve all had different experiences over the past few months and it might be good to capture them together in an informal way.  If you’re interested in starting a thread of shared stories, a sentence or two of impressions or slightly more, let me know and I’ll get something going. 

See you in October as the leaves begin to fly and we await an uncertain future …and remember. it helps to enfold yourself in small comforts

Blog # 108… August 2020

“When life crashes down and crushes our soul - art reminds us that we have one.”  Stella Adler, who revolutionized acting in the 20th century by introducing Stanislavsky’s method, was probably having an annus horribilis when she said that - maybe a bit like the one we’re having now. And this isn’t a temporary disruption, we’re having to get used to being anxious and uncomfortable with risk and change, refugees from our former lives.

As well as keeping ourselves safe and healthy, equity of race, economics and ability are front of mind and I hope John Lewis’s words are played out when he said “We’re going down roads where there’s no turning back.”  Much of the change is needed and let’s not forget the climate!  Jacinda Arderne, the brilliant Prime Minister of New Zealand (we need more women in positions of power!) shared this poem and my friend Rhona sent it to me:  https://newstoryhub.com/2020/04/for-papatuanuku-mother-earth-by-nadine-anne-hura-via-jacinda-ardern/ 

A lot of you have told me that you find my blogs encouraging.  I love gathering my thoughts and putting them out there and having your comments warms my soul, especially right now, as I’m mourning the deaths of two close friends. They were both lively and creative souls who will continue to enrich my life even as their physical presence is gone….my version of the afterlife. So count on me appearing in your inbox every month exploring how art can help us find some comfort and joy in this crazy and wonderful world.

Music is always top of the list of mood altering forms…it creates and evokes memories, soothes or invigorates and is the sense that remains longest after all others have shut down. It goes right to the centre of emotion, not depending on language or intellectual capacity…so wind up that gramophone, and if you’re without devices, sing a song - just keep your distance!

In times of crisis, we go back to basics - as well as balcony singing, we’re clinging to stories either as distraction or as a reminder that we’ve been down this road before. Personally, I’m staying away from apocalyptic material, but apparently The Decameron and The Plague are flying off the shelves. I’m gravitating towards personal stories where I can lose myself in someone else’s life, preferably with different complications and challenges to mine, but with a common humanity. I’m drawn to writers who probe the limits of what’s intellectually possible and socially acceptable; if you’re in the mood for something weird and immersive, try Ottessa Moshfegh – My Year of Rest and Relaxation or Eileen.  And I always dip into The Alexandria Quartet when I’m feeling marginal.

Sometimes we just need to feel awful for a while and this seems to be one of those times, so take a break once in a while and find yourself some art to love while the world remains strange and scary.

And, you know how I love a good quote, I was touched when I noticed something Maya Angelou said long before the emergence of guilt and regret about our past treatment of racialized groups,” I did then what I knew how to do, now that I know better, I do better.”

See you in September.

Blog # 107…July, 2020

Time dissolves and another month has passed - many pages in my appointment book are blank. The other day I wished I’d kept a journal to capture the time since pandemonium struck, but the empty pages shout loud enough. And yet, it’s been full too, of uncertainty, fear, melancholy and occasional sweetness.  I’m getting used to Zoom and YouTube (sigh).

A close friend died a few weeks ago, not of the virus but after 90 years of creativity, intelligence and warm loving friendships. Not being able to be with her in the last weeks gave me a slight taste of the sadness of so many others who had to say goodbye through window panes or not at all. And a couple of others close to me are suffering, closing the gap between life and death a little.

Death, natural and inevitable as it is, is something we avoid talking about …passing away or just passing,  going to spirit, kicking the bucket or, for sports fans, the final inning, all ways we avoid saying it…as if not saying the word will keep the event at a distance, at least for now. When we’re born, we’re issued a return ticket, non refundable, but at the moment anyway, we’re on the outward journey.

And we're concerned with life and lives, our own and others, how they're being lived today and how they've been lived throughout history. Museums and galleries, movies and books  all tell stories about a period, what we did, how we thought and the values held. As time passes and these values change, we're left with relics that should remind us of wrongs done as well as courageous acts. 

What to do about statues, schools, streets or buildings built in the name of men (women probably contributed and acted wrongly too but we're seldom recognized are we?) who've committed acts against humanity, large and small? Berlin and Budapest both have collections of statues of discredited heroes in public places where they and their heinous acts can be displayed and viewed in the context of the era. Tearing down or removing seems to me to be missing a chance to look at the mistakes of the past and live with the discomfort that comes with a nuanced view of history   

Charles Schulz

I miss good old Charlie Brown...

Blog # 106…June 2020

We’re still all in this – going on three months now!  And there’s a sense that we’re settling in for a long haul of uncertainty being the only sure thing… all in different boats in the same storm.

Summer’s here and being outside is safer, easier to keep that 2 metre distance, providing a relief from isolation and giving our eyes a chance to focus on distant trees rather than screens.

Artists, whether musicians, actors, painters or dancers, suddenly deprived of their audiences and their incomes, have quickly devised ways of bringing their wares to the public, often free. As well as keeping their creative energy alive and their images in our thoughts, they’re contributing to our sense of comfort and security and giving us hope that we may survive the storm. Let’s return the favour and support them when venues open again, maybe even sending a contribution when you’ve enjoyed a performance.

I don’t find watching a film in front of my computer as satisfying as curling up in a darkened theatre, not even close, not even if I make popcorn. But I have discovered that being able to watch a complicated play over again is great -  I catch all the dialogue and can focus on details that I missed the first time. Same thing with visiting a gallery, although the quality is a bit diminished, the ability to linger and return to a piece (and be sitting down while I look!) has advantages.  The trade-off is always the luxury of being alone while missing the sense of shared experience.

And, as if the devilish covid 19 wasn’t enough to think about, the clock just ran out on the very serious issue of racism, here as well as elsewhere.   It may be that being forced to deal with the changes the pandemic causes could be useful in some ways, maybe making other important and necessary changes  while we’re at it.

Like everyone else, I’m struggling with what to do about racism because I know that even though I think I’m an open-minded and tolerant person, I’m part of the problem -  we all are.  This morning I watched a live panel of actors, staff and crew in a streamed program Black Like Me, past present and future: Behind the Stratford Festival Curtain, a two hour investment of time that gave me more insight into the issues black people face than years of reading books and articles. They were candid and courageous and a few tears were shed, on both sides of the screen. Catch it if you can, on YouTube, I know you’ll find it worth the time.

Although the theatre folks opened the door on their particular experiences and circumstances, Black people aren't a monolith and have their own unique versions of dismissive, unjust or outright cruel treatment.  We need to open our hearts and minds and recognize the common humanity (like covid 19 does!) if we're to be part of the solution.                                                                                

Victor Hugo lived in a time of equal turbulence and social unrest and left us with these words “If a soul is left in the darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.”

The New Yorker always adds a rare chance for a laugh

Blog # 105... May, 2020

“We’re all in this together” - words we see and hear many times every day, meant to unite and comfort us, and they do, to a point. The thing is, we all have different situations and resources that define our ability to handle what it is that  “we’re all in “ and there’s no question that the degree of equity we strive for has gone out the window.  I’m lucky, you too probably, to have a safe, comfortable place to shelter in, enough to eat and do. Several people close to me are ill or recovering from the virus, others are in affected Long Term Care places, I worry about them and about Les Vulnerables in general.

Covid 19, the Portaupic massacre and the helicopter crash challenge us all to believe that there’s something good to be found in the world. I’m moved in different directions by how art is coming forward - moving me slightly towards hope with the words and music presented in Nova Scotia Remembers and Stronger Together and towards desperate tears by Lisa McCully’s ukulele and song with her kids.

I’m gradually developing some enjoyment from the online delivery of culture. New York City’s  Public Theatre presentation of the 5^th in the Apple Family series “What Do We Need to Talk About? A Zoom conversation” was the first theatre piece based on the pandemic, and it was compelling.

I’m intrigued by how my life and its rhythms have changed. I share vivid dreams, a short attention span and a self administered hair cut with everyone else, but I’m not motivated to do Zoom happy hours, learn Spanish or bake bread. And going for a walk without a purpose other than exercise is an effort and I avoid it many days, even washing the bathroom floor or just staring out the window.

But life goes on, and if we think staying in has been hard, starting to go out and engage is going to be even harder. It’ll involve taking calculated risks, getting used to being anxious about exposing ourselves to the virus as it continues to change, or what we know about it does. We'll have to make decisions about what information to trust, how to deal with a shifting political and economic picture and how to adjust our individual lives to what uncertain reality emerges... the new abnormal.

Ludu's first attempt

We can do it though and there’ll be small things that encourage us to smile and relish that occasional little burst of joy, like the one I had a couple of weeks into the isolation when I got this image in an email.

My friend Ludu is a Bay Street wizard, full of energy, a keen golfer and the last person I’d picture sitting quietly with a watercolour brush contemplating a bunch of flowers.  But, it’s not business as usual these days and I’m happy to share Ludu’s charming piece as a testimony to what we can all do to survive and thrive.

Blog # 104...April 2020

What a difference a few weeks make!
It's almost unimaginable that we celebrated International Women's Day less than a month ago...the last large gathering we'll have for a very long time.

It's not surprising that artists, especially musicians, have jumped into the chasm that opened when venues closed abruptly. Members of our symphony orchestra performed together from their individual homes - that Aaron Copeland piece moves me to tears! And not just professionals, but Italians singing with each other from their balconies, individuals, groups, we're all singing for our lives!

Galleries are offering virtual tours, theatres stage virtual performances and authors are reading from their books and suggesting what we might find comforting to read...apparently The Plague and Decameron are flying off the shelves, or across the bandwidth. I prefer something less evocative myself.

We're all scared, under and over stimulated at once, thrown on our own resources when we're used to seeking them outside, well me anyway. We're all coping in various ways, occupying ourselves with the minutaie of daily existance that we usually rush through. The days pass, one much like another, not much gets accomplished, and we're used to being goal oriented. But, we're safe and healthy and after all, that's all that matters.

An interesting meme has emerged (hope I'm using that word correctly, I'm never quite sure). Anyway it's ASMR, maybe you've seen or heard it...it's popped up in our lexicon like bespoke and woke and mansplaining did a while ago. It means autonomous sensory meridian response, no scientific basis or explanation for it but enough experiential reports to have it given a name.  It refers to and seeks to explain why people are flocking to certain banal, folksy You Tube videos, it's described as a tingling in the scalp, as if a feather is brushing the surface of the brain, causing shoulders and jaw to loosen and relax.  May be the comfort of a mindless, predictable experience in the present uncertainty.. whatever gets you through the day, or night.

And, although, it stretches my imagination at the moment, things will change - they always do.  We'll find we've lost things - and people.We'll have made discoveries and adjustments that are good and that we'll keep and others that need to change again. Maybe we'll have gained some resilience, new ways of doing things, maybe even new friends.

Whatever happens, I'll be back in May with tulips, green leaves and # 105.

Blog# 103.1...March 2020

Today is the portentous Ides of March, and we have lots to beware don’t we?

I’m healthy, although old, so am more than usually aware of mortality and trying to live a good life, whatever that is.  We don't have an enforced seclusion – yet – but so many things are closed that it might as well be. So how do we deal with being inside, often alone, and concerned about our loved ones and the people in many ways less lucky than we are.

First of all, keep in touch by phone or email, with people close to you and maybe others who might be more isolated. And as your gaze is forced inward, frame the situation as solitude rather than loneliness, words mattter. 

We're forced out of our comfort zone in many ways - uncertainy about  the level
of danger to us and the length of time we'll have to wait to know. Our habits are disrupted, whether it's work, exercise, amusements or social contacts, it's a challenge to reconstruct a new way of acting. My particular loss is the pool where I swim, I can't imagine any other exercise that will give me the same feeling, but I have to try and find it. The collegiality is easier to replace, and we're onto that already.

One of the benefits of getting older (yes there are some) is being a bit more comfortable with ambiguity and the fact that life is wonderful and horrible, sometimes both at once.

So, hang in there, never been a more appropriate use of that phrase, and above all, find things that are funny,

                                     The New Yorker    March 16, 2020

Blog # 103…March 2020

It’s good to see that we’ve started to accommodate individuals who don’t fit into the rather narrow forms our systems are created to serve. In the 70’s schools were obliged to make buildings accessible to students with limited mobility - needing adaptations like larger washrooms and elevators. Other public spaces followed suit with ramped curbs and widened doorways and we now see a range of people in wheelchairs and electric scooters on the streets, in art galleries and at the movies. Ask anyone who uses a wheelchair though, and it’s not perfect, but we’re recognizing them and trying.

Physical accessibility is one thing but there are other special, more subtle situations and requirements that are beginning to be acknowledged and addressed. For the past few years, Passe Muraille, the small community theatre that I attend regularly has had some performances that they call relaxed.  I think they have them in other venues too, even Stratford and Thomson Hall.  It’s partly driven by an attempt to broaden their audience base by being more inclusive of ages, and various forms of cognitive and attention states. It’s also a reflection of a generally more inclusive atmosphere that has been led in no small part by the disabled community.

At my theatre, a relaxed performance is described beforehand because the audience is mixed - lights and sounds will be less strident, sometimes there are hearing devices available with described audio and there’s an acceptance of attention spans that may require getting up and leaving temporarily. I’ve never found the adjustments at all distracting and appreciate the theatre’s sensitivity to audiences, rather than expecting rapt attention throughout. It’s a bit like I imagine Shakespeare’s theatre, more spontaneous and fun.

Ophira Calot on stage

Literally Titanium, a recent production at Toronto’s Factory Theatre, challenges the construct of theatre that is dark, still and with closed doors, calling for a greater representation in performers as well as audiences.  The star, Ophira Calot performs from a motorized wheelchair and the audience waits patiently when she pauses for several minutes to rest mid-performance. A series of photographs by Charong Kim, We’re Not Waiting, accompanies the show with the same message...disabled people are making space for themselves, not waiting for us.

And when artists get sick or hurt, often a result of their practice, they require distinct approaches to healing. A violinist may need a physiotherapist for repetitive strain or a dancer for an ankle fractured doing a pirouette.  A speech pathologist can help a singer who’s recovering from a throat ailment, a writer suffering from depression needs help from a psychotherapist. The focus is always on the art, how to return or continue to practice and not lose their livelihood. There’s a role for occupational therapists to adapt activity to minimize strain or accommodate altered function. The Artists' Health Centre was originally housed in the Toronto Western Hospital and will move across Bathurst Street to its own space this year.

I heard a nice quote just now that fits as an add on to the last post and maybe this one too”Science is the how, art is the why” Luke Skywalker.

And, wishing you all, regardless of gender, a very happy International Women’s Day on Sunday

Blog # 102…February 2020

Who knew that visiting a critical health care area would offer an art experience? In the past couple of weeks, I’ve followed my friend Norm as he's received excellent care in various parts of St Michael’s Hospital in Toronto.  
I've been surprised and delighted to see paintings partout. Not only in patient rooms, but hallways, visitors’ lounges and waiting rooms. It often peeks out from behind large diagnostic machines or other items of extreme technology,
 reminding us of the humanity that’s the reason for the whole operation. It surrounds and forms a background for the excellent clinical care  that's delivered 24/7.

The WHO (World Health Organization, not the band) has been much on our minds lately and, as well as statements on viruses, they say… “The arts have a clear contribution to make for patients, service users and staff alike.”  They also refer to health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well being rather than merely the absence of disease or infirmity.”

The art on St Mike’s walls was chosen and installed by a committee of the hospital’s Foundation which disbanded after their job was complete. A new committee is now being struck to choose pieces for recently constructed areas.

The pieces are all the same size and style, comforting rather than challenging: scenes of couples drifting in a boat, small children playing in a meadow or tranquil woodlands - Turner rather than Pollock. The counterpoint of art and science is both soothing and arresting. 

Oh, and another thing, I was not only allowed into the critical care area when Norm was there,  but welcomed. The wellbeing of patients trumps the risk of germs being brought in and the chance of clumsy people like me tripping over something or sticking my elbow where it shouldn’t be. 
Norm has often taken the photos for my blogs, and since he's temporarily hors de combat, his brother Bob has filled in for this posting - thanks Bob.

So, as St Valentine’s Day approaches, here's a missive of love to  St Mikes… walking the walk of “Patient Centred Care” which is the mantra of all hospitals these days. Thanks for taking such good care of our friend Norm - he's moving soon to a rehab hospital  and I'll be checking out their artwork.

Blog # 101…January 2020

Happy New Year!  This year has been grim so far and it’s increasingly difficult, but increasingly important, to focus on art matters so here goes - may make me feel a bit better, maybe you too.

I spotted a book called Carpe Fin recently and was reminded of a trip I made to Haida Gwaii, off the northwest coast of British Columbia, a few years ago. The title was the first of many sly references and double entendres that were scattered throughout... carpe fin literally means fine carp, but the allusion to Carpe Diem suggests Seize the End.  As I read the story I encountered other possibilities (made me wonder if there'd been hidden meaning in Archie and Superman that I devoured as a ten year old).

Carpe Fin is described as a Haida Manga, and artist/story teller Michael Nicoll Yahgulanas uses hand painted images to blend Asian manga with Haida artistic and oral traditions. Carpe, of the title (short for carpenter, get it?) arrives on a small remote island deep in the rain forest to find a failing economy. A fuel spill has destroyed food sources and a group of residents invite him to join them on a risky trip to a distant island to hunt sea lions.

Ferocious storms batter the small boat, Carpe is lost at sea and picked up by the sea lion known as Lord of the Rock who demands retribution for his role in the hunt. Some business with a fin (more allusions) and Carpe is abandoned to the sea, clothed as a sea lion, in the half life between human and animal, life and death.  The islanders arrive on a rescue mission, find Carpe  and the story ends with some hopeful ideas to change the world.  I've oversimplified this complex story as an encouragment for you to read it.                                                                     
                                                                                                                   

Haida images have a whimsical edge and seem to lend themselves to playfulness - think of Brian Jungen‘s transformation of Nikes and golf bags. And aboriginal artists have a wonderful way of making serious points with humour…Kent Monkman’s Daddies of Confederation, the plays of Drew Hayden Taylor and stories of Thomas King, to mention only a few. We need this kind of fresh and nuanced way of looking at things now more than ever.

 Louis Riel said "My people will sleep for one hundred years, but when they awake, it will be the artists who give them their spirits back." First nations artists have taken Truth and Reconciliation and run with it, quickly and positively while official committees and task forces meander along.

I’m always encouraged when I hear from people who read the blog and was almost seduced by a message that came a couple of days ago complimenting me on # 100. Had I clicked on the included link, I would have connected to a site selling drugs online… so, a reminder to NEVER click on a site without checking on Google what it is.