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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| PROMPT March 12th Imagine you had to create an art piece for a gallery or museum. What would you create? Create an art piece? Moi? While I ponder this let me explain what I would not do. I would not throw, or splash paint on a canvas and claim it's art. Where's the thought? Where's the effort? Where's the blood, sweat and tears from a struggle to express one's self? I would not paint a red circle mid centre of a white background and call it art. It's a dot, a geometric shape. How can that represent anything? How is that to be interpreted? How can that rate a name, an identity? I admit I am no art expert, but I know what I like. I like something I can identify be that a scene, or an animal, or a portrait. I suppose I prefer reality. That being said, I am not a fan of the Campbell's soup can. Is that an Andy Warhol? Imagine all the instant food containers he didn't reproduce. Why did he never paint a Kraft Dinner box, or the Kool-Aid animated pitcher? I appreciate the artists who combine hundreds of used and discarded vehicle tires to fashion the figure of a rearing horse. I marvel at the carvers who work their magic and transform tree trunks into historic figures. In Truro, Nova Scotia trees struck by Dutch elm disease were revived as forty-three carvings of local figures, a person playing a piano, Girl Guide leaders, and more. It's a shame that soon they will be removed after twenty years existence due to rotting. Every year, in Campbell River, British Columbia, carvers compete to sculpt a log into wondrous art. The subjects range from salmon to indigenous people to mythical creatures. During my visits there, these carvings become the backdrops to my photos. I am in awe of the imagination and skill that is needed to reshape a piece of wood. At a West Coast exhibition, I laughed at the work of an artist who had created all the people present at a shotgun wedding. He, or she had captured the various facial expressions with the deer- in-the-headlight groom, the stern frowning father of the bride clutching a shotgun, and the beaming , barefoot pregnant bride. That carver captured a moment in time, a slice of life. Portraits catch my interest. I am drawn to facial features and their numerous configurations. We all are issued one nose, a pair of eyes, and a mouth, yet we look both similar and unique. Wealthy people in the past commissioned portraits of themselves and many are so rich in detail and lifelike they appear as vivid as our present day photographs. That is my idea of art. I also like caricatures. Hmmm, I can draw enough to create cartoons. Perhaps that's what I should create and present to a museum. Don't worry, I shall not take up wood whittling, or carving. Sharp, pointy tools and I are not friends. |
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