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Kyran, my grandson, is staying with us for a week or so. Today we went over to the Kootenay Gallery in Castlegar to see the current exhibition by Scot Bullick with the curious name Miscreants: Mischievous and Defiant.
I'd seen it the other week when I dropped off some books, and I loved it and knew Kyran would, too. And he did. As he went from exhibit to exhibit I could hear him chuckling. He's nine, and knows a thing or two about monsters. Every so often I'd hear, "Cool!"
I
obediently refrained from taking pictures of Scot Bullick's work (tempting
though it was), but happily his daughter Amanda just happens to be a
professional photographer and has some great shots of how the set-up went here. While you're there,
check out her website. She does gorgeous
work.
My favourite installation was the hanging steel (I think) 3-D faces that
are also seen reflected on the wall. Brilliant! Seriously, go have a look at Amanda's
photos of the set-up. You'll see what I mean.
The last time I was visited the gallery I discovered this beautiful display of Ted's work in the smaller gallery space. (How could I not take a picture?)
That's
a George Koochin painting, "Autumn Gold" behind it. Some of George's
paintings are currently on display at
Chances Gaming Centre beside the Castlegar Airport. Full
disclosure: I'm not a fan of gaming centres, but the possibility of seeing some
of George's work overcame my aversion to going. There are few places, come to
think of it, I wouldn't go to see his work. As it happens, that's a
little print of George's on the plinth beside Ted's turnings. Ted got it for me
and it's hanging right beside me as I type this.
One of the poems in my new chapbook is a version of a pantoum called Burning the Old Village. In 2003, on Winter Solstice night, we did just that to the remains of the Doukhobor village that was in our back yard. Once upon a time it would have looked like George's print.
BURNING
THE OLD VILLAGE
The
year we burned the Dom it hardly snowed.
The
roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.
Deer
stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.
Sunflowers-in-waiting
a carpet on the ground.
The
roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.
One
exquisite match strike; it was done.
Sunflowers-in-waiting
a carpet on the ground.
Roused
from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.
One
exquisite match strike; it was done.
A
swift retreat of black and white indignity.
Roused
from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.
The
night was molten cold. So little snow.
A
swift retreat of black and white indignity.
Snowdrifts
a memory. We burned memories, too.
The
night was molten cold. So little snow.
Wish
for swallows to find new homes come spring.
Snowdrifts
a memory. We burned memories, too.
Deer
stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.
Wish
for swallows to find new homes come spring.
The year we
burned the Dom it hardly snowed.
A few copies of my chapbooks are for sale at the Kootenay Gallery: George Bowering's Los Pájaros de Tenacatita—Poems of La Manzanilla del Mar and my own What's Best For Us.
Here's Val Field, the Gallery's hard-working executive director, packing up a gift I got for a friend. In addition to bringing in thought-provoking shows like Scot Bullick's, the Kootenay Gallery has the most wonderful gift shop. Check it out next time you're in the area. It's right across from the airport in Castlegar.
And yes, if you were wondering, I've been writing postcard poems AND waking up in the middle of the night to scrawl 3:15 Experiment ones.
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