Blog # 56…April 2016

I'm early off the mark with this post, wanted to give everyone a heads-up about my favourite holiday... so think up a joke to play on someone tomorrow, nothing mean is the only rule..

I heard the five finalists for the Charles Taylor prize introduce their work recently and decided it was worth another look at our national treasures. The prize, in honour of  the respected Canadian historian and writer (not to be confused with the former leader of Liberia or a flock of other Charles Taylors) was established in 2000 and has been awarded annually since 2004 to a Canadian writer of non- fiction judged to be the best in their field.   Ben McNally hosts the event every year, he and his bookstore are national treasures too.

This year’s bunch made the choice particularly difficult and the five finalists should all be considered winners. According to Taylor’s widow Noreen, who is the force behind the prize, the field has shifted greatly since the award’s inception…when most of the entries were books of history by university professors. Gradually non-fiction has become less academic, more popular and accessible to the general public. Winners over the years have included Wayne Johnston (the first) Carol Shields, and Richard Gwynn.

This year’s finalists (from a list of over 100 submissions) were:

Ian Brown confronted his 60^th birthday with the decision to document what the year brought.  Sixty is a candid and touching look at ageing - semi gracefully (as he puts it). As a person confronting a large birthday this year, I appreciate the prevailing stereotypes of old people being shifted to a broader sense of what we’re really like.
Roger Angell, who writes about baseball, and other things, has also done a good job of it in This Old Man. He’s neither Canadian, nor a contestant for the Taylor prize, just saying.

Camilla Gibb’s world was turned upside down when the partner with whom she was looking forward to the birth of their first child suddenly decided to leave. In This is Happy, Camilla searches for stability with a constructed support network.  In our age of unconventional families, happiness is defined as having loving people around, not always relatives, not always having a smooth time either, but surviving day to day with grace (sometimes) and humour.

David Halton is the son of Mathew, a well known war correspondent during WW2.  In Dispatches from the Front,   David, also a journalist, presents us with a warts and all portrait of his father who met and interviewed most of the key political figures of the era - Winston Churchill, Joseph Stalin and FDR. His love and respect for his dad and the work he did is a tribute both to his father and to David’s ability to write as a balanced journalist.

Wab Kinew reconciled with his father a year before his death. A survivor of the residential school system, his father had brought the lessons learned there into his own family - a lack of love and nurturing that is passed on through generations, The Reason We Walk is Wab’s account of caring for his father, coming to an understanding of how he’d become the man he was as well as realizing how his own parenting has been influenced by his childhood experiences.

Rosemary Sullivan has given us a glimpse into the lives of Canadian literary figures Gwendolyn MacEwan, Elizabeth Smart and Margaret Atwood.  Her latest biography Stalin’s Daughter takes her, and us, into a totally different realm. Svetlana Alliluyeva, born in 1926, was Joseph Stalin’s youngest child and only daughter. To know the fascinating story of her early life in Russia and India, her defection to the US and renunciation of her father’s regime and her flirtations with a range of religions, you’ll need to read the book. Although as I said at the beginning, all five writers are winners, Rosemary was awarded the RBC Taylor prize on March 7^th.  

Still waiting for the refugee family...and I hope some of the frustration people feel about delays in welcoming Syrian families can be directed towards the people of Pikangjikum and other northern settlements who live in brutal situations too.

Blog # 55… March 2016

“Art is not a luxury, it is a necessity”…both words to live by and the title of a book by artist and art therapist Diorbhail (Gaelic for Dorothy) Cameron.

I have a great respect for art therapy, although, when I was working in psychiatry I preferred to involve artists in a different way - giving people a chance to explore, experiment and have a rest from therapy.  But, about five years ago I met Diorbhail, who lives and practices art therapy in New York City and discovered a kindred spirit.

                                                                                                                                                                     

An Geurran,
Path leading to where her family members are buried

As an artist herself, as well as a person who has experience with mental illness, Diorbhail has spent most of her life painting and contributing to the lives of marginalized people in NYC. A strong influence on both aspects of her work is her Gaelic heritage...her sensibility formed by the mystical landscape of the Western Highlands of Scotland where she grew up. She sees a strong resemblance between the revival of interest in the cultures of North American Natives and the Gaels…both cultures live outside the mainstream and offer expanded perspectives on the land, art and spirit. My Campbellness resonates with that too.

Seannir's Passing
Song of the passing soul
(Grandfather's death)

Encouraged to paint while going through her own therapy, Diorbhail started to take courses in psychology and began involving herself in social issues. She began with domestic violence, establishing Abused Women ‘s Aid in Crisis and encouraging city officials to establish protected housing. She went into one of the first shelters intending to use art to work with children and found that the mothers wanted to join too… and the staff. This beginning led to innovative programmes in senior centres. work in homeless shelters and the establishment of Broadway Community Inc. a drug and alcohol rehabilitation agency serving a downtown area for twenty years.

 “I have never heard of  retired artists” she said in a recent interview  and Diorbhail continues to take an active interest in using art to help people find better ways of dealing with life…something dear to my heart too.

Now that the magic number of Syrian refugees has been reached, our Iraqi family may get their chance to come and join us….hope so.

Blog # 54…February 2016

We’re so lucky in Canada to have a number of national treasures…natural resources that aren’t found in the ground, growing in the forests or under the sea. Everything from pop stars to comics, novelists and actors - we see their names in the news, smile to ourselves and whisper to the person next to us “they’re Canadian you know”. When George Elliott Clarke was recently named Canadian Parliamentary Poet Laureate, it seemed a good time to celebrate some of my favourite treasures, he's first up... 

 I was introduced to  George's folk opera Beatrice Chancy in Dartmouth in the 90’s and have followed the journey from his native Nova Scotia to Toronto, where he just completed a 3 year term as our poet laureate….”imagining words of beauty and  emotion to mirror and echo the cultural mosaic that is Toronto”.  His Influences range from Miles Davis to Ezra Pound, with Irving Layton, Malcolm X and Pierre Elliot Trudeau thrown in for good measure.  Moving to the national level will give him a chance to bring his fresh voice to our government and our identity…I can hardly wait.

Sophie Milman was a nineteen year old business student at University of Toronto when she began to have success as a jazz vocalist and decided to switch careers. Born in Russia and raised in Israel, she makes use of her rich exposure to the languages and cultures of many countries to bring depth and variety to her performances.  The intangible cultural property that is her voice can be sampled online in her 2007 Make Someone Happy or 2009 Take life Easy. (couldn't resist that delicious phrase).

The Gardiner Museum of Ceramics took off in an intriguing direction when it invited Kent Monkman to mount an exhibition. He was prompted by the bone china in the collection to centre his undertaking on the source of the bones…the buffaloes that had roamed the plains of his native Manitoba. Themes in his art often explore the way indigenous history has been presented (or misrepresented) by19^th and 20^th century artists.. The Rise and Fall of Civilization that appeared at the Gardiner late last year gave us a whole new look at the connection between the harvesting of buffalo to make fine china and the dwindling resources available to native people.  

Too late to see that show, but watch for his work elsewhere.

No news of the family we’re supporting but they appear to be safe and are taking advantage of the waiting time to learn English - we correspond with them regularly through our Arabic speaking member. In the meantime we are benefitting from the experiences of the groups who have welcomed their families already, honing our sensitivities to their situations and learning how to be supportive in ways that are helpful and not smothering.  More to come.

Blog# 53…January 2016

One Christmas is so much like the others that I can never remember whether the year the cat knocked over the tree in the middle of the night was before or after the year the raccoon licked the whipped cream off the trifle, outside the back door because the frig was full.   The warmth of people we love, the melancholy of missing the ones, alas no longer with us, everything glittery and buttery and excessive, Scrooge and Bing Crosby, it all gives us a sense of permanence.

Now it’s over and we’re back to old clothes and porridge (as my Scottish great grandmother apparently used to say).   I’m always tempted to go small - eat and drink less and appreciate some subtle and simple things around me so here goes…

We always make devilled eggs for Christmas Eve in memory of our dear friend Natalie who used to arrive with a platter of them in tow - no matter how many she brought, they all disappeared in a wink. This year we opened one of our boiled egg to find twins…seemed they were probably a lucky omen of some sort, maybe from Natalie.   Before anyone else had a chance, with a smirk, Julia and I  et them.  That’s not a typo btw, I listened many times to A Child’s Christmas in Wales and Dylan Thomas’s language has crept into mine.

Having a good book to read over the holidays is always important to me, and this year it’s A Strangeness in my Mind by Orhan Pamuk. Set in modern Turkey, it follows a young boy from the hills of Anatolia into the bustle of Istanbul. Pamuk’s style is precise and descriptive (I sometimes feel as if I’m watching paint dry) but right now I find the detail somehow comforting and relaxing.

Other small things further from home…customers at a coffee shop in Austin Texas have their mornings brightened by the designs created in the frothy milk by  barista John Ingham. He has a large repertoire and often performs to order.

                                                

Lauren Rapp, in Washington DC makes tiny chairs out of found objects (like ice cream sandwiches!).  She's part of a 365 project where people make or do something different each day of the year.

A love of vintage furniture led her to make her first chair and she's never looked back.

I’ve consciously kept my blog from descending into personal trivia - you’re not interested in the latest concoction I’ve made from leftover turkey - but I’ve indulged myself a bit in this one, feeling the need to lighten the mood as we enter the new year.  There’s lots to be serious about and I’ll be going there d’rectly (as they say in Cornwall).

No sign of our Iraqi family yet.  We’re very lucky to have an Arab speaker in our group so we're getting to know each other through telephone conversations, reassuring them that we're here to support them when they arrive.  As for the family, they’re preparing by learning English and being alert for the government interviews that will precede their approval to come to Canada. Stay tuned.

Blog # 52…December 2015

We’re all responding in our own way to the brutal attacks in Paris on November 13…fear, anger, withdrawal and many other more complex feelings and ponderings.

Eighty nine people died at the Eagles of Death Metal concert in the Bataclan.  Members of the band watched helplessly as many in the audience died protecting friends with their bodies. It made me wonder, as I often do – you probably do too - how I would respond to a crisis situation. The acts in Paris were calculated to make a statement about the sin of hedonism, people enjoying themselves on a Friday night. We all do that right, and it’s important that life goes on and we don’t let ourselves be manipulated by fear.

Would be understandable if performers let go of “The show must go on” in favour of their own (and their fans) personal safety.   EDOM has cancelled shows for the foreseeable future and they get a pass since they were caught in the middle of the heat.

A few days after the horror though, our own performers, Tafelmusik and Opera Atelier, teamed up to present the opera Armide in the Palace of Versailles. It was the first public performance there since the attacks, made even more remarkable by the theme of Lully's opera, written over 300 years ago - the love between a Christian and a Muslim.  Jeanne Lamon, former Tafelmusik director observed that “Cultural ambassadorship has taken on a whole new meaning. For many years, I’ve believed that music can heal in powerful ways…now that takes on new meaning too”.   

As I mentioned last month, my neighbours and I (along with many other groups across the city, and the country) have begun the process of sponsoring a refugee family.  We began pretty much as strangers to each other and are gradually revealing our talents and our willingness to donate time and energy…and we’re beginning to examine our ability to tolerate the ambiguities that a task like this is already presenting.  

This activity and a few others will keep me busy for the next while  so I’m posting this early, wishing you a warm celebration of whatever holiday you embrace.

Blog # 51…November 2015

"You only leave home when home won’t let you stay.”  from Warsan Shire’s poem, Home.

Images and statistics detailing our world’s shifting population are flooding our hearts and minds these days.  The shocking contrast they make to the comfort and ease of our lives in Canada leaves me unsettled and feeling helpless. Very often, reading fiction helps me make sense of the world; a good writer can explore situations that engage me in my own exploration.  Occasionally a character will have an experience that resonates with my own, or, although the setting and events may be totally foreign to me, the universality of the emotions touches and engages me. We all see the same stars in the sky and smell the same freshness after a rain, even if there's the sound of gunfire in the distance.

I've just finished Lawrence Hill’s, The Illegal, a case in point.  It’s the story of a marathon runner in a fictional location in the Indian Ocean who has to flee his country and lives on the run (so to speak). Hill used details from his long history as a runner, from a job he once had at Pearson Airport, and from time spent in Berlin when he met many refugees from Sudan.  Keita, the runner, is a complex black man with strengths and weaknesses - both physical and emotional.  The secondary characters are lively, believable and struggle with issues that we recognize easily. An old white woman who's facing the loss of her independence welcomes Keita into her home and a sympathetic Immigration Minister is caught up in corruption.  A black woman whose money and power in the refugee ghetto allow her to both support and exploit them manages somehow to be likeable.. The story is set in 2018 and, since the book just came out a few months ago, it seems eerily clairvoyant.

I’m about to read two other books about refugee experiences as I’m  preparing (as part of a neighbourhood group)  to welcome a migrant individual or family to Toronto and support them for a year...daunting!.  It’s early days but I’ll track our progress in a postscript to future blogs.

Tasneem Jamal is the daughter of refugees expelled from Uganda by Idi Amin in the early 70’s. The characters in Where the Air is Sweet are fictionalized but bear similarities to real people; their stories are blended to present a variety of points of view.  She tells us how people felt and responded to events rather than focusing on the events themselves. Amin had the misguided notion that the success of the Asians in business and commerce threatened native Ugandans - their loss, Canada's gain.  

Kim Thuy came from Viet Nam the in the late 70’sas one of the boat people.  In Ru she describes her own experiences as a  child,, uprooted from her home and landed in a strange place (Canada in winter).  It's a particularly moving story since a large portion of the migrants these days are children…30 million worldwide. Another line from Home “No one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land.”

In her Massey lectures Margaret McMillan spoke of the freedom that fiction offers to interpret historical events in a personal way that we can feel and understand.  We’re all humans, sharing the planet, our share largely dependent on where we're born … we've got a larger share than we really need and I hope we can do something to even things out.

Blog# 50…October 2015

A picture is worth - well you know that one - and like most clichés, it’s true.  A recent cover of New York  magazine showing 35 women who’d been abused by a public figure called attention to the sense of entitlement  of some celebrities.  The iconic photo of the young Viet Namese  girl running in terror toward the camera brought that senseless war into personal focus.  Recently the body of the young Syrian boy washed up on the beach entered our election campaign and opened our hearts suddenly to the migrant crisis.

Blog 26, two years ago, featured the Ryerson Image Gallery, worth a visit if you haven’t been there. The exhibits are mostly news footage, raw and gritty, bringing us up against the world of  violence and injustice.  The current shows feature  Weegee, the American photographer whose dramatic and often lurid views of New York crimes and news events set the standard  for tabloid journalism.  Jorge Lozano’s complex portraits let us enter  the realities of life in an area in Colombia affected with chronic violence.

There’s much despair in the world and although it’s important to confront it and acknowledge its presence, it’s also important (in order to keep from totally submerging in hopelessness) to let the beauty in. Seek it out in fact.  There's lots around us - these days it’s the vivid leaves left on the trees and waiting for me to sweep them from my steps, And the same cameras that record the horrors of war and natural (and not so natural)disasters) also capture a world of wonderful and comforting images to lift our spirits.

                                                                                                     

I was in Nice recently (I know, lucky me) and saw the catalogue for a show titled Riviera  featuring photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue.which had recently been at a small gallery in Finland,   The show consisted of  albums of photos he called Saving Happiness, recording his fascination with women, nature and beauty.In the 30’s he was often recruited to scout locations and new starlets for the films of the era.  This beautiful stony beach on the Mediterranean is just as lovely as it was then,even though it's now usually crowded with people.

                                                                                                             
So, make sure you counter what you see on the evening news with a dose of trees or rivers, kittens or butterflies