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 Rose inlet |
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Rose Island – The Queen Charlotte Islands 1988 I opened my eyes uneasily. I had slept well on the thick bed of soft, springy moss, without waking the whole night though. I had dreamed strange and vivid dreams, and fragments lingered in my mind as a dim Iight filtered into the tent. The branches rustled reassuringly above and it was with pleasant recollections that I slipped back into the waking world. But my mind was seized, almost immediate, with the awareness that something was wrong. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and unzipped the tent as quietly as I could, grabbed my cloths and stepped out into the fresh forest air. As I stood up, my head spun and I barely kept my balance. An uneasiness in my stomach became a sharp spasm of pain. For an instant, then it subsided, leaving a strange, metallic taste in my mouth. Sitting down on a moss-covered hummock, my mind began to race. I can't get sick here...not now. Catching my thoughts I tried to empty my mind completely... it was just a little dizziness...I'm fine. The others had not yet stirred. I slipped on my cloths and stood up again. It's passed now, I'm OK. I told myself, as I breathed in the cool, scented air and walked down to the beach. I wasn't OK though, something I'd eaten – at least I assumed it was something I'd eaten – hadn't gone down quite as it should. My stomach twisted again. This time a wave a nausea washed over me, followed by a cold sweat. I stood, bolt upright, then marched off down the beach, as if a brisk walk might shake it off. But a few steps were all I could manage, veering over to an outcropping of dark, jagged rock, I leaned against it. What about everyone else?, I thought. We'd all eaten to the same thing last night, and it had been nothing unusual though. Can you get sick from dehydrated food? The Lingcod perhaps, or maybe we hadn't boiled the water long enough? My head was spinning again and my stomach took over. There was one solution for this, and I groaned with resignation. Whatever was causing my woes had to be expelled, I Gripped the rock with both hands and gave in to it. It's a beautiful day at least, I mused, laying back against the rocks, breathing slowly and deeply. The dizziness had gone, as had the clammy gripe that ceased me a minute or two before, replaced now by an almost blissful, sense of well being. But I was reluctant to move, and gazed across the inlet for a time as a light mist lifted from the water and the blue sky began to show through the haze. A black shape swept almost silently overhead, banking for an instant to glance back at me, before skirting the shoreline trees and disappearing into the forest once again. I stood upright again, motionless for a second of too, then strolled back towards the tents. Mike had been awakened as I left the tent, and was now up and dressed. Carrie and Natalie were chatting happily. There was no hint of malady hanging over the camp. “Are you feeling OK, Mike? I asked. “Yes, fine. Why?” “Just felt a bit wonky when I got up this morning,” I replied, without going into any unnecessarily details. “Shall, I fire up the stove and get that water boiling?” I felt pretty good now. My stomach was a little raw, but I knew I would have to eat something before we set off in the kayaks.
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Hotsring Island |
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The Queen Charlotte Islands – 1988 It was a beautiful, blustery fall day. The sun was warm but the air was even cooler now than the night before. Since our passage home had not yet arrived, the day was ours to pass as we would. Late in the afternoon I was drawn back to the shoreline pool, a very different scene in the light of day. The silence was wonderful, just the lapping of water and gusting wind, and then, behind me, a scratching noise. The raven was back, and as I turned, he hopped closer, his claws catching on the rough rock surface as he found his footing in the wind. Again, I had no food with me. He looked at me for a moment or two then glanced over at my belongings, as though giving them a closer inspection. Tilting his head down, perhaps just to get a closer look, he appeared to nod, and with that, he was off. Lifting into the wind on outstretched wings he glided slowly along the shore until a gust caught him and quickly carried him beyond the treetops.
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The Garden |
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San Miguel de Allende 1988
This image had appealed to me, in large part, because it had been something of a puzzle. At the time, I'd asked a couple of my Mexican friends to model for me after lunch at the Bellas Artes, and I took a number of very pleasing, picturesque photographs. It wasn't until later that the incongruous element in this composition grabbed me. The idea and the painting's title, an obvious biblical reference, followed. I wrote an explanation of the piece at the time of its first showing but it didn't really surprise me that no one picked up on this – not even the couple who eventually purchased the piece. The beautiful garden, the fruit trees, the young couple, all the elements were there and I rambled on at length about this idyllic, cloistered world, far removed from the larger world beyond the walls – from which this pair would soon be expelled. Before long, they would be forced to leave this bountiful wonderland, or so the story went, in a quest for knowledge. Later that year they would be leaving for Mexico City, and the Universidad de Mexico. There, and in subsequent years, they would discover all of the disappointments, hardships, and pleasures of the outside world. The good and the evil - I was quite pleased with my little allegorical piece. And there in the middle of it all was the serpent, not in one of the trees, but in the fountain, and I read this at the time as being a well spring, the fountain of knowledge – just a sight variation on the theme, but fitting nevertheless. Anyone who has lived in San Miguel however, and knows this place, might beg to differ. The fountainhead itself was, in 1988 at any rate, in need of repair, and might have easily been interpreted as just about anything. It later came to my attention though – the fountain having undergone some restorative work – that this little sculptural piece was, in fact, a lamb. This would make far more sense of course, given that Las Bellas Artes was part of a convent at one time, and a serpent would hardly take center stage there. For a while I felt a little silly about this apparently hasty interpretation, though I was pleased all the same to have created the painting, which is still out there, somewhere, hopefully bringing a little color to someone's everyday life. The point of inspiration of course is that it not be second guessed, and when I recently discovered that Las Bellas Artes had again been reinvented, this time as Las Muses, I felt somewhat vindicated. From entrance or Cherubic Watch, by stealth
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Mercantile |
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Glasgow – 2010
If you have been to the U.K. you will likely notice the signage over the window in this painting is not quite what you might have expected. I thought it best to not mention the bank by name (though none of this is a secret of course) and the lettering too has been suitably rearranged. The revised logo, however, was recreated with deliberate intention. An effective, and immediately recognizable corporate signature, the inward point arrows of this important banking institution are remarkably reassuring. As you will see here though, I have reinterpreted a little, and the arrows in this logo are directed outward, mimicking another, perhaps not-so recognizable, symbol: Chaos. "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.” Is an idea that cannot be separated for the symbolism of "The Chaos wheel," and these immortal lines, by Yeats, have seldom being so appropriate. When the entire central banking system seemed about to unravel, the civilized world held its breath. Being from the UK, and because I travel there regularly, I still maintain a bank account at "RSB." So it was particularly upsetting when the recent financial upheaval saw the bank's stock drop by 40% in a single day. Thankfully, the British Government stepped in to stop a run; although, since then, the Pound Sterling has slowly devalued (Against the Canadian Dollar at least). The title of this painting, despite the immediate connotation (Mercantilism), is a reference to Mercury, the Roman God of commerce and the root of this word – As symbolized by the caducei carved above the door and window. In addition to being a messenger of the gods Mercury is also a Trickster and, through his association with trickery, and ancient elemental forces of course, he is inextricably, connected with the idea of chaos...and so the narrative ties together. Much remains to be said about this enigmatic and most paradoxical of subjects, but that will have to wait until later...
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