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Saturday, August 27, 2016

Artist Recognition

 It's nice for all of us to get some valued recognition once in a while. So, I was pleased when Saatchi Art included my work in their featured online curated collections. Thank you!

 I'd also recently finished an Open Studio event at my Saturna Island studio as part of the Art Saturna Tour. At the end of which, off walked several paintings to new homes. Thank you! That's nice, too.

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about creative life, travels, tips and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News at https://www.janetstrayer.com

Regards, Janet 




 @ janetstrayer.com

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Go Fly a Kite! in Italy

Summer in the Umbrian Countryside

Summer has suddenly burst through in Umbria, with hot, sunny days after a long spell of thunderstorms, rain, and chill.  Spending my final weeks here in the beautiful Umbrian hills, I'm taking in all I can of my surroundings... while rampant mosquitoes get their fill of me. Reciprocity.

Go Fly a Kite!

poster ad for kite-flying in hills of Umbria, Italy

This was just the kind of unexpected event that kept popping up to rival conventional ideas about what to do in Italy. Especially so because the invitation came from a mature, rather reserved and distinguished  Italian woman. It seemed to me a totally charming and captivating idea. 

Umbria is filled with lush hills everywhere you look. You can usually count on some winds and.... why not? Kite-flying seems a fun thing to do. Plus, we were about to learn something and create our own kite. 

We drove together to the event. We chatted a lot, and she was helping me along with my Spanish-influenced Italian. All the while, I silently noted how competently fast she took the hillside curves. I was still much more tentative with my foreign driving habits on these sharp, high, curves). 

Small Medieval Chapels Throughout Umbria

As we neared our venue, we came to a small, 15th C. chapel. A friend (in the photo) showed me the  semi-restored frescoes lining its walls. As I've said, there is always something remarkable in almost every locale you set foot upon here.
chapel in Toscolano with friend, Anna Giovanni

Go Make a Kite!

After being introduced to the event organizers, we were joined by about 50 other people of all ages  and seated together at  several long tables. We heard and saw slides that accompanied a enjoyable  presentation on  the history of kites and kite-making. In contrast to other presentations I'd attended  in Italy (mostly academic ones that went on for much too long)., this one was brief, interesting, and well illustrated. 

Added to that, the hands-on challenge was to make and decorate kites ourselves! Of course the kids loved it. What a kick for all the adults who'd never thought we'd get to play like this! My rather reserved friend seemed a bit embarrassed by the idea at first, but then got fully into it once the materials were in her hand..Good for her. It made me smile to it see all of us mature people transition into child-like seekers and makers of objects that could fly.

my kite in progress

We were given all the materials and instructions needed, and got to work while the rather wonderful history of kite-making flashed on the large screen. Everyone set to work, everyone looking so earnest in their playful attempts to make a kite that might fly... and decorated in our own way. 

The Kite Runner, a fine novel by Khaled Hosseini that takes place in Afghanistan, came to mind, along with thoughts of the meaning and value of kite-flying in human history. DaVinci and Benjamin Franklin were among the the famous kite-fliers of the world. Kites were made in all cultures of the world, especially featured in China and Japan, but also throughout the mid and far-east, and elsewhere. 

But Will It Fly?

The crucial reality test came next. 

When our kites were finished, with streamers and string attached, we went to a nearby field to test them out for real.  Would they fly? Truthfully, I was anxious about mine. It was my first, and I couldn't remember when I'd last flown a kite anywhere.

A hot sun was beating down on the field. I took off my shoes and tried to run in the grass with my kite held high.  Seeing my lame attempts to get my kite off the ground, a young boy came over and asked if he could fly my kite for me.  Indeed, yes and thank you !  Around and around he ran, delighted. And it so delighted me.
 
and my kite flew...

This Kite Carries a  Message

If there's meaning in kite-flying (of course there is), here's what I make of this experience. It's the importance of play, of exploration, and of seemingly unimportant things. The kindness of friends and new acquaintances sharing in gentle communal activities.  You never know what may fly. 

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about Italy at Creative Life News here. plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here
 @ janetstrayer.com



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Saturday, June 11, 2016

Getting Lost (and Found) in Italy

An Adventure Exploring the Umbrian Hills

Another Umbria (painting by Janet Strayer)
























Today was a good day for a hike. After a series of thunderstorms and much overcast weather, today's sunshine encouraged my decision to explore the hills around our Umbrian homestead. I was on my own, and my  destination was a hike to the chestnut grove across the ravine into the deeper part of the forest. A good and then a very bad idea. It's not hard to find the right path if you know the way. But then, nothing is hard -- if you know the way. 

I had been given good directions from a visiting neighbour who'd already explored  the area. Being a student of ecological history, he told me that these chestnut groves in Italy were at least several centuries old, having been planted by ancient communities to forestall famines in other foods.  The chestnuts are still harvested today. 

The Chestnut Grove

Do you know how enchanting is to come upon a chestnut grove in the middle of a forest? It's a special spot that greets you like an enclosed garden, especially when you don't exactly know where you are.  I The tree branches are magnificently broad and heavy with leaves, while the brown ground is clear and soft.  A lovely spot to explore, so I did. 

After three happy hours exploring, I thought I should head back home. 

After five hours, however, hiking around and around and  in and out of the beautiful chestnut grove, I was officially lost!

I have a talent for getting lost. Like Hansel and Gretel. I should have brought something (more durable than breadcrumbs) to lead me back home. 

Ironically, all the trail signposts I found pointed in different locations but were printed with the same location name! 

My cell phone didn't work in the woods. Besides, whom would I call, given a recent thunderstorm had knocked out landline phone service in my home territory (in which there was also no cell reception).




Officially Lost

I could not reach anyone by phone, but I could take a blurry photo! I had little idea why, if someone eventually found my body here, this photo would matter. But here's my blurry photo of the view outward from where I got lost. I can almost see my house in the leftward distance. But how to get there from here??

So, I searched around the woods, yet again, for another trail.  Then I searched for another. I was turning in circles that lead nowhere. It was getting dark. 

Finally, I decided to continued on one path that lead to an asphalt road. Aha! Better than spending a lone night in the forest when friendly trees can turn into monsters, not to  mention the wandering wild boars. 




I stood by the road, which at least hinted at "civilization" and stuck my thumb out at the first passing car. No luck as the car passed me by. How few cars travelled this rural route? But returning to the forest to look again for the right path home seemed an  even worse idea.. So...

Like fortune's fool, I waited beside the road. I quickly held my hands up prayerfully when I saw a beat-up old car coming from the opposite direction. Yes, it stopped! I sputtered in Italian to explain my situation. The kind driver, named Basilio, said he would drive me home. I learned he was from a neighbouring village, Melezzole. I mentioned that I shopped at  Cesare's hardware store in that very village. He told me he worked for Cesare. And so it went. And so it goes... in Italy.

And Found

I t would have taken another 45 minutes for me to have reached my village on foot had I followed that road. But I didn't know that then, and my feet were already blistered. I hadn't even put on proper hiking shoes, thinking it was just going for a scenic walk. 

I reached home, gulped a liter of water, ate the cold chicken and pesto salad I'd prepared the day before, and thanked my lucky stars. That you, Basilio! Thank you, Italy. Thank you, good fortune.

More Creative Life

You can read and see more about Italy at Creative Life News here. plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here
 @ janetstrayer.com


Friday, April 29, 2016

Artist En Route: Umbria, Italy (earlier version in Art Avenue magazine)

Living in the Umbrian Countryside

It's April as I write from high green hills in the Umbrian countryside, midway between Florence and Rome. We live in Morruzze, a tiny village in which nothing happens. The bells jingle on new lambs in the pasture up the rocky road from our house. Wild boar hide in nearby forests, as do truffles. The bees are out, and the silvery olive trees are growing fuller. The birdsong is absolutely operatic as I walk the 6 km to and from the nearby village, looking for wild asparagus along the way. The views are spectacular coming up through worn paths overlooking rolling green hills and patchwork agrarian plots typical of this region. Walking here each day I'm sure Leonardo developed his sfumato technique from these smoky landscapes that soften edges and blend contrasts. Except for some hard winter months, it's been idyllic. 

 What Shopping Does a Visiting Artist Do?


Art Interest: So much to see. Just stick a pin anywhere and go!

A visiting friend wants to go on the Piero tour (click here). I'm glad to oblige this pilgrimage for a local boy from a nearby Tuscan village. Piero della Francesca is high on my list of Renaissance masters. His sense of serenely sculpted light, of physically solid yet beyond-real forms in space, of emotion perfectly contained yet dramatically expressed, remains remarkable to me. 



You could pick any of your favourite Italian Renaissance masters and plan an interesting tour of Italy just by following the trail of their displayed works. Following the trail of Perugino, for example, will take you to Perugia, home also to delicious chocolates as well as savouring the equally sweet and highly decorative paintings by his associate, Pinturicchio. Like many ancient towns in Italy, there is so much to see and enjoy just by walking around and looking, and often festivals to add to the celebration. 



Nearby in the Cathedral in Orvieto  are the muscular and fascinatingly original Last Judgment frescoes by Signorelli (from whom Michelangelo learned a thing or two). In the other direction there are the lovely painted ceramics in Deruta to take home with you. Go eastward and there's the region of Le Marche, with Crivelli as its local wonder, whose paintings provide an odd mix of Renaissance perspective and Medieval decorativeness. 

The art treasures continue, with fresco-lined chapels by the vigorously emotive Giotto (Padua and Assisi) and the sensitively ethereal FraAngelico (Florence, with some of his most personal work on site, as they were painted in his home, the Convent of San Marco). 

Pick your favorite early to late Renaissance master: it seems they're all here
Where Artwork and Setting Are One 
It's especially impressive is when you see these magnificent artists' creations in the settings for which they were painted. Even Leonardo's crumbling Last Supper retains much of its gravitas in the actual chapel in Milan whose architecture it replicates! 

I especially enjoy scouting for treasures in relatively lesser-known places. But who would want to ignore the big showplaces of art-filled Italy? Rome, where the ancient Colosseum nods to Renaissance feats like the Pantheon and the dome Brunelleschi's derived from it. Then there are the dizzying treasure troves of the Vatican, shown in its museum. And unsurpassed Florence. Art is everywhere in the architecture, statues, fountains, museums and public works of such cities.


 
Two duomos (cathedrals) that I like especially are some distance apart. The one in Milan is staggering. Coming up from the metro station, it's a filigreed vision in honey-white marble that took nearly six centuries to build. It hardly seems real in its intricacy and apparent weightlessness. The best of it for me (sated by now on church interiors, no matter how magnificent) was walking outdoors on its huge, multi-tiered roof. It was stunning being surprised by gargoyles, fanciful architectural flourishes, statues standing on pillars in the air, and vistas across the city.

In contrast, Orvieto's duomo seems to me more humanly appealing in size, proportion, and narrative flourishes. Sitting outside on stone benches built into buildings lining the piazza, you watch as the sun glints on golden mosaics illuminating biblical narratives and assorted statues on its facade. Inside are the Signorelli frescoes I mentioned and, to top it off, in this piazza is the best gelato I've tasted. 

Surprises and delights abound: just keep your eyes open and venture on!

 Contemporary Art and Tradition

What I've noticed about contemporary art seen throughout my travels is that it seems  much the same everywhere. That is, trends seem global rather than regional, with influences like Twombly, Basquiat, and Richter variations everywhere, especially in abstract painting. I'm particular fond of major if not as well-celebrated modern Italian painters, like Morandi in still life and (my favourite) Burri in uniquely abstract works, have pushed new stylistic boundaries. 

No longer apprenticed to guilds or schools, emerging artists now seem to gravitate towards their preferred international icons. Historically, however, Italian art has shown recognizable regional stylistic variations and "schools". Tradition remains important here where people live with centuries of art history at their doorstep. The great humanistic emphasis of the Italian Renaissance, especially, is a tradition that endures even in contemporary paintings. For example, look how many figurative works are included in Saatchi's online Focus on Italy.  

Old Artists and the Avant Garde

Visiting the Sforza castle (Milan) and seeing Michelangelo's final and compelling Pietá emerge unfinished from stone, I thought about his spending his final decade on earth working, on and off, on this sculpture. I wondered why some master artists turn away from their attained mastery and refinements to produce, in their old age, something apparently more raw, unsettling, dramatically different, and far less popular with their contemporaries -- but seeding the future avant garde. True of Rembrandt, Turner too, and others, this development runs contrary to the too common clichés for old age.
Practical Matters: Art as a Way, Not a B

P   Art is a Way, Not a Brand

Wh    When I left Canada more than a half year ago I thought that, whil  I'd settle my continuing argument with my painterly self to mov  pursue one track instead of many and do what art-marketeers advi  advise: develop a brand. I haven't. Instead, away from the
         marketplace, I've decided this isn't for me.  Not for lack of self-dis    discipline or indeterminacy in directions to take, Instead, I have a genuine preference for working and lear  learning that is broad in scope. I don't think I'm alone in this conflict between way and brand, and many of     you may feel similarly. But I've come to respect this as a stylistic preference in how one chooses to expl  explore, experiment, and bring things together in order to create. Away from the usual influences at hom  home, it seems clearer to find one's own creative direction.

Travel's End and  Journey Onward

Looking back over the art I've seen, and done, and the life I've had here, I hope to have shared some enjoyable and useful facts and personal insights with you, wherever you are en-route. The artwork I've produced while travelling has been plentiful and surprising to me, as fitting into several unpredictable "series" resulting from new ventures into fluid painting and mixed techniques .A practical note to travelling artists is that duties for mailing artworks are often prohibitively high. So stay light, if you can. .    
            
It's been a remarkable journey, with a month remaining before returning home. This way of life has become 'home' now --- travelling from place, setting up one's life anew in each place for awhile, learning the necessary, exploring, making do. Never long enough to lay down roots ... or ruts. The only constant has been one's own sense of continuity and of change throughout this voyage. I haven't finished. I'm not ready to "go home." I want to find a way to take some of this way of living with me, even when returning to all the comforts of home, friends, and family.
                                
This trip has been about lots of things, both external and internal. Learning to do without the familiar, reassessing priorities, decisions, needs, and desires. A bit of a juggle between making and making-do, keeping to a plan or letting the winds decide, moving on or staying safe. Living away from home provides opportunity to re-examine decisions and expectations, to re-align oneself without the supports, stimulation and constraints of family, friends, and the familiar buzz of art shows and fellow-artists wanting to get their work noticed. It's been an opportunity to expand, to break out of molds that need breaking, and move in ways that feel authentic and rewarding, whether or not they are applauded by anyone else. 


 My artwork has taken different directions, depending upon where I've been: inside and out. I've met with local artists, seen shows, visited sites, museums, and galleries in each town. Everywhere I've been I've keenly felt how art, whatever form it takes, is a vital part of living life. How this is personally vital for me is the lesson I'd like to take home with me ...  plus a few gallons of gelato.

I hope, in reading these articles, you've shared in this sense of adventure, each of us being artists-en-route in our lives and in our work.


More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about Italy at Creative Life News here. plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here
 @ janetstrayer.com

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Marcel Proust as Life Coach?


Gifts of Chance

Quite haphazardly I came upon a unique little non-fiction book entitled How Proust Can Change Your Life by Alain de Botton (London: Picador, 1997).  It came with a cottage we were renting in Provence, France, along with a little trove of art books, travel guides, some good novels and an assortment biographiesm history, philosophy, and self-exploration books.  What a delight to find all this, as if it were  waiting for me. I emailed the owners telling them how grateful I was for this gift of chance.

I so enjoyed the little book on Proust that I wanted to share it with you. Like the novel, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by French author and philosophy professor Muriel Barbery (another unexpected find  enjoyed years ago in Europe), this book on Proust reminds me of how witty and socially relevant erudition can be. Also, how important it is to step away from one's usually crowded state of mind, to let things as they are enter in without full attention. Add a dose of humour, rational optimism plus practical pessimism, and you're set for life.

Marcel Proust as Life Coach

This charming, amusing, and sensible little book was reviewed as "dazzling" by John Updike. It concerns the eccentric and very generous Marcel Proust, who wrote what has been hailed as the, or at least one of the, greatest books of the 20th century: In Search of Lost Time (Recherches Des Temps Perdu (sometimes translated as Remembrance of Things Past)). This a  long book that  I've never read fully from cover to cover,  though I've enjoyed much of it by repeatedly reading from it

Even without having read Proust, one can enjoy de Botton's commentary. It seems Proust thought and wrote enough  to enrich, not just literature, but also a philosophy of everyday life.

Probably few of us would choose to exchange our life for Marcel Proust's. He has often been considered a dilettante, hypochondriac, and neurotic who spent most of his later adult days in bed as an apparent invalid. Even so, Proust was one of the most alive people of his time, generous to a fault, socializing with friends, possessing an extraordinary concentration and attentiveness  -- an elusive quality then, and especially now, in our time of multiple distractions, our impatience with even relevant details and wholesale avoidance of complex perspectives.

Proust collage by Janet Strayer
Proust collage by Janet Strayer

Take Your Time

One chapter, for example, is entitled, "How to Take Your Time."  One of the gifts of great novels, like Recherches, is the time one can spend inside them: reacting to their characters, settings, happenings, living in the inner and outer worlds created by the author and in which we partake. If we don't take the time, we miss the trip. 

N'allez pas trop vite is a request often attributed to Proust in conversation with his contemporaries. His request that we go about things more slowly increases the chances of coming to know and enjoy those otherwise unnoticed things that become interesting in the process of taking our time with them. In contrast to anger, annoyance, impatience, and easy judgments, which we know are so quick and easily come by, it takes time to become engaged, to explore how we really feel, to experience empathy, and to understand.

As de Boton notes , why bother reading Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, or Madame Bovary if these novels can be summarized like passing social-media headlines. These are examples he gives for each (pp.42-43): 
  "Tragic end for Verona lovebirds: after mistakenly thinking his sweetheart dead, a young man took his life. Having discovered the fate of her lover, the woman killed herself"; 
"A young mother threw herself under a train and died in Russia after domestic problems";
 A young mother took aresenic and died in a French provincial town after domestic problems.

How many of us are addicted to the quick and fast bottom-line? Our culture increasingly challenges our ability to concentrate by promoting more distraction, more information that is non-informative, and  highly-revved but empty spectacles. We tend to get bored and impatient with the slow-moving and we habituate to being distracted, quickly losing interest and looking elsewhere  rather than actively becoming engaged . Give me that video-game!

Suffer Successfully

De Botton selectively uses Proust to address common tribulations of being human, as in his chapter on "How to Suffer Successfully." Human suffering seems inevitable,  but Proust presents a differentiation in his characters between good sufferers (who gain more understanding and appreciation of reality from it) and bad sufferers. The latter blame others for their suffering, distract themselves from it with quick-fix addictions, delusions about self and others, or defences that entail arrogance callousness, anger, and spite. Armed heavily in this way, bad sufferers have little incentive to face difficult truths, change as needed, and more fully appreciate their life.

Finding One's Own Way

Finding one's own way, one's own voice, vision, and what one truly  loves is, for me, the vast theme of my readings of Proust. He hated clichés and orthodoxies: "Every writer is obliged to create his own language, as every violinist is obliged to create his own tone" (p.103) and "only that which bears the imprint of our choice, our taste, our uncertainty, our desire and our weakness can be beautiful" (p.104). Except for deliberate caricature and melodrama, why borrow tired forms of expression?  

Looking to Proust's time, as well as our own, one reasonable rebuttal would be: because otherwise we risk not fitting in or might be judged harshly. Though there have always been those who flout convention, Proust's point isn't to make a name for ourselves by pissing on monuments. The point is to take the time to consider and learn for ourself (not by convention or fan-group) what we need and need to do  for our own particular right path. Courage over time.

Visual Art

Visual art is significant in Proust's novels. One of his characters, Elstir, is an impressionist painter. His paintings, like those of actual Impressionists at the time, challenged the orthodox understanding of what things looked like and what was considered beautiful. 

It might be quite a stretch to apply Proust's magnanimous point of view about artists, especially if you know some first-hand. But what he says about the creative process is authentic. For Proust, painting, like other art forms, serves to undo "our vanity, our passions, our spirit of imitation, our abstract intelligence, our habits" and makes us "travel back...to the depths to see what has been neglected or distorted (p. 112).

Beauty

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder: where is that eye looking? Not just in the obvious places and pre-determined images received from culture and celebrity branding. 

Proust guides us to actively looking and attentiveness to our impressions: a particular blueness, or a reflection of light that strikes us.  Such active engagement, attentive looking, listening, and sensing --in reality or imagination -- takes time and some degree of dedicated inclination or effort. That's why being an appreciator of art of any kind of art   is such a gift in itself. We needn't be the painter or composer if we can appreciate the beauty of the painting or the music. 

Beauty can be quite modest and subtle in its effects. Given our drama and sensation-charged media, we might often miss out on it  I recall the fuss a long time ago over the Met's then outlandishly expensive purchase of a Rembrandt. When I went to see it as a child, expecting a great blaze of beauty to strike me, I was so disappointed. It looked to me just some highlights on an old person standing in the dark. So I looked to more ostentatious paintings for the WOW I expected from the beautiful. It took a bit more time and looking for me to learn that beautiful qualities in art (or people) didn't fit conspicuous categories. WOW still works for me, but  hardly cuts it any more as a criterion for beauty or meaning.   

Often there's very little at first glance to distinguish a good painting from an indifferent one a. Bad paintings might depict clouds well, or display some impressive technique, or so loudly declare something that they get noticed. Yet, in Proust's sense, they lack an elusive specialness. Looked at repeatedly they become rather boring, with nothing further revealed in the play of small details, or in qualities of light and contrast, or a particular touch that continues to engage us as we look more.

Habit  tends to erode beauty. You stop looking attentively at what's routine -- even that beautiful painting you were fortunate enough to get. As Virginia Woolf said, beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful. We can't ever presume to know it too well.

How to Open Your Eyes: All the light we cannot see

"How to open your eyes" is another chapter in this commentary upon Proust's lessons for us. 

detail of still life painted in Provence by Janet Strayer

Proust encourages us to use paintings as examples: scenes of ordinary fruit and kitchen ware, of ordinary people doing ordinary things in contrast with the heroic (on the one hand) or the picturesque (on the other). In our day, the sensationally vulgar versus kitsch might replace Proust's heroic versus picturesque contrast. Still, the message holds: simple and ordinary things can be wonderfully, aesthetically, beautiful.

Proust may have over-valued painters. He wrote "I have tried to show how the great painters initiate us into a knowledge and love of the external world, how they are the ones by whom our eyes are opened'" (p.150, quoted by de Botton).

Proust understood that we need the arts. They help us bridge the gaps, even fill the holes, between our immediate circumstances and something we need that is deeper, wider,  richer, stronger and, yes, beautiful. In so doing, our life also changes, in moments and bits of attention as we look for and are enriched by what is, for us, special.

All the light we cannot see is a lovely metaphor and the title of a fine novel by Anthony Doerr. Well worth reading for its own sake, and  also meaningful in this context. The arts can enhance our perceptions and meaningfully link to our lives even if we are blind (as is the girl in this book) and however bleak our situation. Some courage and humility help: a dedicated willingness to attend, remain open, look, listen, seek, acknowledge and appreciate,  again... and again. Other people, like these authors, can also help by promoting and supporting such efforts.  

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about creative life, travels, tips and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News at https://www.janetstrayer.com

Regards, Janet