Islands have allure

© Paul Comarmond

My friend Paul Comarmond has been diligently working on his watercolours and will be showing them at Regal Heights Bistro, 1077 St Clair Avenue West, Toronto. Be ready to party on opening night, Tuesday, May 1st, 2007 from 6 pm.

L'homme dans la nature

"Car enfin, qu'est-ce que l'homme dans la nature? Un néant à l'égard de l'infini, un tout à l'égard du néant, un milieu entre rien et tout."

Pensées - Blaise Pascal

After all, what is man in nature? Nothing when facing infinity, everything when facing nothing, the middle between everything and nothing.

Lin Fengmian

I want to share with you this site that my cousin Philip set up for our uncle Lin Feng Mian, an amazing artist whom I discovered in the last years, but much too late as he passed away in 1991. Being an artist myself, the immediate affinity I felt for his paintings was uncanny, as if I've known him forever, as if there's a little part of him in me somewhere that I just can't figure out yet. Through a few simple strokes of the brush he seems to magically evoke beauty, grace, sadness, peacefulness and a wide range of emotions, as you can see in these two paintings of his.




Images courtesy of Philip Lim, creator of Lin Feng Mian site

French, English: Pourquoi pas?

The article I wrote for the Globe (if you can't read it online, it's in my August 2005 blog posting) seems to have a life of its own. It's just been published in an educational book called Refining Reading writing-Essay Strategies for Canadian Students. My essay is in unit 4 under comparison and contrast and it's about how bilingualism can engender comprehension and tolerance between French and English Canadians. This subject tends to get passionate reactions: Praise for its inspiration but also negative comments from some Quebeckers and English Canadians from the West because of my mentioning the name Trudeau. I suppose it's a subject that leaves much to reflect upon, one of the reasons the article was chosen for this book. I'm thrilled about being published in an educational book, even though the momentary euphoria has subsided and I'm already back to work on my short stories.

C'est intéressant que cet article (vous pouvez le lire sur ce blog; août 2005 mais en anglais car je ne l'ai pas traduit en français) a déclenché des débats passionnés et parfois négatifs du côté des Québécois et des Canadiens anglophones de l'Ouest qui n'aiment pas Trudeau. Mais en revanche, beaucoup d'autres trouvent que l'article est une inspiration et ça leur donne envie d'être bilingue. L'article est tout simplement sur le biliguisme, comment ça peut aider à apprécier les différences entre les Canadiens anglais et français, et enfin, être plus tolérants l'un envers l'autre. C'est un sujet qui fait certainement réfléchir. Je suppose que c'est pourquoi on l'a choisi pour être publié dans ce livre. Je suis ravie d'avoir été publiée. Et maintenant que l'euphorie s'est déjà évaporée, il est temps de reprendre le travail sur mes nouvelles.

L'amour

"La vie est un sommeil, l'amour en est le rêve,
Et vous auriez vécu si vous aviez aimé."

Poésies - Alfred de Musset

Life is a sleep in which love is the dream,
And you've lived if you have loved.

Dance by Night

I'm participating in a fundraising for breast cancer and will dance on Saturday April 28th in support of relatives and friends who have fought or are fighting breast cancer.

If you want to support this cause, your money will go towards purchasing a digital mammography machine at Toronto Sunnybrook Regional Cancer Centre. Any small amount helps in improving the chances of women beating breast cancer.

Please don't feel obligated. I know how we're bombarded with requests for donations every day and it can be tiring because our $$$ can only go so far. But if you do feel like it ...

To donate online, please go on this site.

And if you want to be one of the participants and have fun dancing and raising money, please go on this site and click Register to Dance by Night.

Comics

A comic book's visual dimension is fascinating not only in the immediate gratification of its artwork, but also in the passionate intensity it brings out in the reader. When I was seven years old, my brothers introduced me to Blek, my first comic book superhero, a French trapper clad in tight pants, fur vest and raccoon hat. I lived in breathless suspense as he overpowered English soldiers with his bulging muscles and his expletives, "mille castors" (a thousand beavers) or "mille putois puants" (a thousand stinking skunks). I remember waiting impatiently for the next issue to arrive in the mail, eagerly flipping each page, listening to its crisp sound, inhaling with relief the smell of fresh print. But as I grew older, comics became a quick diversion rather than my main source of reading material.

I regained interest in the creative art form of comic books through Lovern Kindzierski, my sister-in-law's husband - yeah, we're all sort of connected within one or two degrees of separation these days. He is a passionate comic book lover who has transformed his obsession into professional excellence as a colorist and a comic book writer. He's worked on famous superheroes such as Tarzan and Conan, and is currently working on Code, a new African American superhero (finally a positive role model of different colour). Lovern is the one in red t-shirt, and of course he's from ... where else but Winnipeg, Canada's unpretentious creative hub. Cheers Pam. :)

WISE

Okay, I've sobered up a bit, got the languid tropical weather out of my bones. No residual taste of passion fruit or papaya in my mouth. Good old Toronto's minus 15 chill has slapped me awake. But haven't yet caught up with work or kept up with all the committees I'm involved with.

However, an important organizing committee from which I've slacked off lately is moving forward thanks to dedicated volunteers who have given many many hours of their time to put together a RFP (Request for proposal) to get the best deal possible from contractors to install solar panels in our neighbourhood. There are about 200 of us currently looking into pooling our purchasing power so we can contribute in protecting our environment and saving money by using solar-powered energy to produce electricity and/or to heat water in our houses.

If you're interested in this project, please check WISE (West Toronto Initiative for Solar Energy). We want to spread the word out so many other neighbourhoods can join us, not only in Toronto, but across Ontario, and hopefully the rest of Canada which has been slow compared to European countries like Germany to take an active role in reducing pollution and stopping the depletion of the earth's ozone layer.

Trip to Mauritius

I'm back but operating in slow motion, recovering from jetlag and too much fun. It started with pounding waves from the tail end of a cyclone.













The weather calmed down but for me it was a continuous barrage of sensations rediscovering Mauritius, the island where I was born, and reconnectiing with relatives, friends, and the exotic landscape. With the awareness of a camera in hand, every corner I turned seemed to offer images for thought.

People are so approachable, warm, and friendly along the coastal villages. They live with so little and yet seem so content and happy. I wanted to feel the heart of the island through its fishermen, its children and the people who make it tick, and wished I could spend more time learning their way of life.













To appreciate the two extremes of the island fully, I spent a couple of days in the pampered environment of a luxury resort. However, it takes only a few days to indulge in such decadence: freshly cut flowers and champagne to welcome us, thick, fluffy bathrobes and towels, private pool, spa, gourmet buffet, tea served by villa master, etc. After the novelty wears off, it feels more like an artificial paradise, illusory, not in touch with the real world, but it's still an experience not to be missed, especially when snorkelling and discovering underwater wonders. And it's great to know that the island's economy is thriving from European tourists who flock to these amazing resorts that dot the island's coast.

Art Sites

I won't be writing for a few weeks, so here are some sites you may want to check:

To sieve through the deluge of internet info, I speed read, and try hard to concentrate on what's relevant to me, but sometimes I get caught into such a burst of inspiring work from art sites that I can't quit that easily. Some are there for the purpose of selling artwork, like Paul Comarmond's at Yessy and Charmaine Johnson Putnam's at Absolutearts .

Others are for sharing photos and art, like Philip Lim's gallery at Deviant Art and Mondo's gallery at Flickr . These thrive on a community atmosphere where members write to each other with clever or silly pseudonyms like Elle-est-mental, Waitingforgodot, Hotsauce, Blasphemedsoldier, Surlybratt, etc. Common interests give a feeling of connection and make it fun to exchange photos, writing, and thoughts with members who hail from countries as remote as Estonia and Tibet. Some artists' works, especially in Deviant, are awesome, while others are uninspiring but what a great learning opportunity for everybody! These sites have a way of snowballing and you wonder how much larger they can possibly grow - imagine over 30 million artwork/photos in one site only, and this is only a small fraction of what's availbale on the net.

I'm fascinated by these community sites' easy accessibility to people around the globe one would otherwise never meet unless one travelled extensively. Will virtual encounters replace the need to interact with real people? I personally believe the warmth of human touch is essential to life and cannot be replaced by a computer, but I'm intrigued by the ramifications of online socializing. Anyway, as if my plate isn't full enough, I've taken up the invitation to join and just became a Deviant with this photo gallery, a bit boring so far, but I know it will get much better over time with inspiration and feedback from Deviant artists.

Enjoy these galleries!

Depressing February

There are so many celebrations in February other than Valentine's, namely Chinese New Year, and dance, music and theatre events for Black History month. But I've been sick and haven't gone out much in this freezing weather. There's some respite from this gloom though. Working in my studio isn't so bad. I get to watch snow flakes softly fall, covering the city in white. From the kitchen, I can see the neat shadows that the sun casts on the bright snow in our backyard.

Happy Valentine's

I was waiting for these two birds to get closer. You'd think they'd want to get warm and romantic on this cold day but they wouldn't budge. I guess they forgot it's Valentine's. Wishing you all a wonderful time with your loved ones, but really, why just today, why not every day of the year?

Introducing the book

To give a balance to the heavy philosophizing of Gibran, here's some silly humour which has its own brand of philosophy. Thanks Pam.

Introducing the book

The innate self

Every human being is capable of counterfeit when it comes to his likes and dislikes, and of juggling with his ambitions and bartering his thoughts, but no man on earth is capable of counterfeit with regard to his loneliness or of juggling with or bartering his hunger and thirst. Nor is there a single human being with the ability to reshape his dreams, to exchange one image for another or to transfer his secrets from one place to another. Can what is frail and meagre in us sway the strong and mighty in us? Can the acquired self, earth-bound as it is, induce alteration and transformation in the innate self, which is of heaven?

Love letters - Kahlil Gibran


















Look up and fly into the sky

Orpheus descending

Orpheus descending at the Royal Alex. This Orpheus is Val, a guitar-playing young Southern drifter to whom women are fatally attracted. He is the object of an older woman's desire, and when he finally realizes his love for her, she dies like Orpheus' beloved Eurydice. That's as far as the adaptation of the myth goes. Tennessee Williams' ability to portray people who don't fit into society hits as deeply as the way he analyzes the psyche of mature women, their insecurities, their need to express themselves, blossom, and love, reminding me of the powerful and desperate image of Blanche in A streetcar named desire. I left the theatre with my friends, thinking, not of handsome Val at all, but of passionate Lady Torrance, the feisty, married woman who falls for Val, thrives in her new-found love, shaking loose the constraints of her marriage. We all agreed that Seana Mckenna's performance as Lady, with Italian accent and all, was the best part of the show.

About accidents, chances in life

"Pas même fatal cet accident puisque rien n’est écrit nul part, la vie seulement criblée des hazards de dernière minute, ces petits riens décisifs qui defient présages et prévisions et se rient de nos attentes."
La Petite Chartreuse - Pierre Péju

"That accident wasn't even fatal, because nothing is written anywhere, just life riddled with last minute chances, these little non-decisive situations which challenge speculation and forecasting, and laugh at us as we wait."

I'm quoting Pierre Péju here because of this continuous debate I have with my dear friend C regarding fate. Her belief in fate reminds me of Greek tragedies. That same helpless way that fate controls Oedipus' every action, no matter what he tries to do to stay away from the horrible predictions of the Oracle. Not that I'm 100% with Pierre Péju. I think part of our personality is written in our DNA, over which we have no control. This brings us to the never-ending nature versus nurture debate. Wouldn't it be easier to say it's 50/50 and end all debate there? Our genes and our environment determine equally who we are, and then the rest is within our control. The choices we make in life and the chances we are willing to take are not part of fate. But then, as my friend C would argue, these choices and chances are controlled by genetic predisposition. Vicious circle isn't it? That's why we haven't been able to find a common ground on this. That's when I throw in that genetics don't predict everything because we're surrounded by the last minute chances that Pierrre Péju is talking about, and these are not predetermined. Okay, that's enough debating for today. Early morning fog from my studio.

Illustration of debate: This view is one of the many chances offered to me. I chose to take this photo. Fate didn't determine this. Couldn't resist this, C. Please, don't get mad. We'll continue later. :)

Reservoir Lounge

The Reservoir Lounge on a Saturday evening. Sophia Perlman and The Vipers perform for a packed house. I meet Sophia in front of the mirrors in the washroom. She's friendly, introduces herself and says she sings on Mondays usually, and she's putting on her sophisticated look for the Saturday crowd. Her voice is deep but there is a crispness to it, as if fine fibres of clear sounds are melding into a harmonious whole. On stage, her voice is even more impressive as she erupts into higher notes. She gives a rich lilt to Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.

My friends and I were greeted at the Reservoir door by a flirtatious Rod Stewart look-alike who asked for the cover charge first, then blew kisses. A waiter whose shoulders Suzanne found beautiful, served us tapas, pizza and wine. We danced on the few square feet available with a man nicknamed Mr. Transition by Yolande because of his hmm...interesting life story. Reservoir Lounge bubbles with warmth. Jazz, live music, has a way of doing that. But also, the place is so small that you bump into other people and have to talk to them whenever you take a few steps. I read that celebrities as disparate as Peter O'toole and Prince have been seen there. You can guess the varied range of music lovers. Girls, it was fun.

In memory

In memory of my cousin who passed away a few days ago
I will always remember him as a fine dancer
he moved with such grace and natural rhythm
in the dance halls at family weddings
the only few times I usually met him
and danced with him last in May
I heard about his health and phoned
but his voice was low and weak
so he let the music speak
and held the phone
to the speakers
I listened silent
to the drumbeat
and wished he
could still
dance
but
it was
not
to
be
...
yet ...
maybe
he did dance
his way to heaven

Orbit Room

Went to the Orbit Room on Tuesday night with a friend visiting from abroad. It was her last night in town. We arrived at 10 pm, and wondered whether we should stay. The club looked empty except for half a dozen people. We didn't have the energy to look for another place. And we thought, so what, maybe it's like that everywhere in the city on Tuesday night - good old hard-working Toronto already in bed.

It was awkward to watch a band larger than the audience. You wonder how they feel and whether they're watching you as much as you're watching them. However, by the time the first set was half-way through, the room was packed and nightlife in Toronto was alive and well. One of the musicians, with dreadlocks and a kind, friendly smile came to say hello to us, adding to the warm atmosphere of the place. A guest singer named Serena, blonde with a sweet angelic face, belted out Leonard Cohen's Sisters of Mercy with a Reggae Jazz beat - if you know what I mean - and you could feel her soulful voice going right through your guts. I'm relieved to know that the creative heart of Toronto is beating every night in this club and many others I still have to discover.

Back to writing

Bon, je recommence à écrire. C'est une de mes résolutions pour l'année 2007. Ecrire, écrire et écrire.

Back to blogging. Another year is gone. The phenomena of blogging, YouTube, and other forms of online mass communication is mind-boggling. It's all happening so fast I feel as if I'm part of an army of ants scrambling, typing away at the keyboard to keep up with the cornucopia of information and new experiences. One of which is discovering Peter Cincotti, a jazz singer/pianist that my friend Chris raved about. I'm now hooked on his romantic voice. Can't believe he's only 21 years old.

For photography Andrew's daily blog postings are truly inspiring. His composition and use of lighting, with focus on industrial sites, bring out the awesome beauty of what we would otherwise consider ordinary things. Am I biased because he's Teri's friend? I don't think so. See for yourself the results of his passion and dedication to photography.

Books I've read in the last months that are worth mentioning: Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden is the story of two Cree Indian friends, snipers for the Canadian army during World War I, Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb is about a white woman's Islamic faith. They both deal with cultural rifts, and a sense of isolation that I find very compelling.