Art @ home

As we gradually begin to emerge from “stay at home” to a world of increased contact with others—including mask wearing and physical distancing—we may have come to know and appreciate our own surroundings with renewed hearts and minds.

While waiting for the green light to safely visit a museum or attend a performance event, many of us been engaging with the arts at home, through the pages of books or on a screen of some sort. And maybe you have some art on your walls that you’ve come to view with refreshed eyes.

In the spirit of sharing and engaging with art, here’s a little tour of the art that hangs in my apartment—in alphabetical order, by artist (with links, as available). These are not professional photos, and they’ve been taken where the pieces live, in their natural habitat—so there will be some glare and reflection in the glass.

Little Cruiser Lake (canvass-mounted print)—Cecilia Booth. A gift from the artist, who is also a friend. I love the peaceful calm of nature in this piece. There’s also a magical, fairy tale-like quality—of emerging from a dark forest, into the light.

Drowning Girls (poster print)—Suzanne Courtney. Suzanne is an Alumnae Theatre friend/colleague; and I had the pleasure of working on this production (on set painting, with designer Ed Rosing). I love how she combined the beautiful with the macabre, giving the design a haunting Gothic vibe. You can check out her art here and graphic design work here.

Celtic Camille—Laurie Fredheim. Another friend and gift from the artist, who drew this from a photograph, then added the traditional Celtic costume in a personalized, whimsical touch.

Angel Over the CityJennifer Hosein. I first saw this multi-media collage/painting on a tour of Jennifer’s apartment during a party she hosted. While still a work in progress, I asked her to put a hold on it for me. There is comfort in this guardian angel image—and I’m drawn to the blues.

Heart Comes Alive, from the animated short LabyrinthPatrick Jenkins. I met Patrick through his partner, photographer Pamela Williams (see below). When I lived in Little Portugal, Patrick had an exhibit at (former) loop, a local gallery. I was already a fan of the film and love this image of the awakened heart.  

Guardian cats quilt—Martha Leonard. A gift from the artist’s daughter, my friend Kat Leonard. It reminds me of the Celtic faerie cats knot design. The cat is the guardian of the underworld.

Multimedia text piece—Steve Rockwell. Can’t recall the exact name of this piece, but I saw it at an exhibit at the (former) Fran Hill Gallery and loved it. The text comes from an actual conversation he had with a gallery owner; hilarious in its dry humour. Also love the colour and design; it reminds me of a heraldic banner—and is meant to hang from the space where its mounted.

My love is like a red, red roseLeon Rooke. I brought a bouquet of roses to a salon that Leon and Fran Hill were hosting at home in the Annex, prompting Fran to request that Leon gift me this painting. It evokes the lyrics of the famous Robert Burns poem in a whimsical way.

On Some Faraway Beach #20—the late Blair Sharpe. I met/befriended Blair, the partner of friend/Environics Research colleague Brenda Sharpe, at an Environics winter holiday party and we hit it off immediately. This painting is another Fran Hill Gallery exhibit find; it makes me think of Adirondack chairs, and the brilliance of colour in the spaces where beach, water and sky meet. Sadly, Blair passed away a year ago; I’ll miss his creative spirit, his edgy sense of humour and his sharp, questioning mind.

Party for OneAndrea Stokes. I saw this hanging in an exhibit 10 years ago at (former) Ottawa restaurant ZenKitchen, where friend of a friend Caroline Ishii was cofounder and chef; I never met Andrea in person, but we chatted over email as I arranged for shipment. I love the sharp colouring and melancholy whimsy in this piece—especially pointed right now during these times of isolation.  

Cemetery sculpture photographs; clockwise, left to right: Water Nymph (Buenos Aires), Siren (Italy) & Dove (Italy)—Pamela Williams. I met Pamela years ago, at the Toronto Outdoor Art Fair. I’d seen an image of Siren in a NOW Magazine promo piece for the show and made a point to visit her booth. We became friends; and since then I’ve taken a digital photography workshop with her, and attended a lecture and exhibits at her home gallery.

What art do you love? What’s hanging in your home?

A gothic fairy tale of spiritual connections, mystical protectors & escaping a monster in Brenda Clews’ gripping, magical Fugue in Green

Like a bullet in slow motion, she floated over treetops for as long as it took to blink.

A gothic fairy tale of spiritual connections, mystical protectors and escaping the clutches of a monster, this is the opening line of Brenda Clews’ mesmerizing, magical novella Fugue in Green, published by Quattro Books.

Teen siblings Steig and Curtis struggle to survive live with their cruel, controlling and abusive mother Leica while their filmmaker father Reb is away working in England. Their monster mother is a catalyst for Steig’s escapes into the woods that surround their Vermont home, where Steig finds solace in nature. It is in these moments that we learn that Steig is a magical, elemental young woman who becomes the landscape she loves and shelters in. She also sees ghosts: her grandparents and a former teacher. And the ghosts tell her things. And she has a spritely sentinel: a bird man called forth from her connection to the woods to be her guardian.

Reb lives and works with his dreams—and dreams while awake—the everyday becoming surreal, expressionist visions that surround him; a visual poet, he creates poetry with images instead of words. And what of the mysterious and angelic Clare, a magician with a camera who arrives in his life at the precise moment he needs her—both personally and professionally?

Steig’s younger brother Curtis busies himself with more traditional, earth-bound teen pursuits. While not fully immune to their mother’s unreasonable expectations, unpredictable behaviour and wrath, he bears the least of it. And when their mother goes too far with Steig one day, Curtis launches a plan to flee their mother, contact their father and join him in England. Their journey to safety is fraught with terrifying memories and shared visions, but is also protected by forest spirits.

Secrets are revealed—with devastating results. Reb had no idea about the child abuse going on in his own home; forced to move beyond his own sense of guilt of being so distant from his children, who he realizes he barely knows, he’s determined to make a safe, supportive home for them. He’s been away too much and for too long. Meanwhile, back at the family’s home in Vermont, and realizing that her children are gone, Leica flies into a spiralling, destructive rage that echoes across an ocean.

Supernatural, spiritual connections emerge and reveal themselves; the battle between order and wilderness embodied in the relationship between Steig’s mother and Steig—and even Reb. Love, family, myth and metaphysics intertwine, winding around these relationships as the two children escape the witch at home and into the arms of those who truly love them.

Magical, sensuous and seductive, Clews’ words swirl around you and draw you in; mesmerizing with evocative colours and haunting, ethereal—and sometimes disturbing—images. A short, gripping modern fairy tale, it’s perfect for curling up for an afternoon or evening read, easily finished in one sitting.

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Brenda Clews

Clews is also an artist and a poet; you can view her work on her website, and on YouTube and Vimeo. You can also connect with Clews on Twitter and Facebook.