Wild Beaded Rivers by Catherine Raine, 2011I’ve always liked beaded necklaces, and I think they do a great job representing rivers. I finished the collage this morning in a celebratory “I’m officially on vacation!” mood.
Wild Beaded Rivers by Catherine Raine, 2011
Wild Beaded Rivers by Catherine Raine, 2011
Wild Beaded Rivers by Catherine Raine, 2011I’m excited to report that my art exhibit, Maps of Loss: Rivers, Ruins, and Grief, will be on display at Richview Library from September 7th to the 30th. This exhibit excavates personal feelings of grief and translates them into more universal symbols of loss. When viewers encounter three encaustic paintings and seven collages, they will experience images such as a tidal river, a ruined barn, and a pier with no dock.
Lenin’s Mosaic by Catherine Raine, 2011 (Central image by Gerd Ludwig)Please come to the opening for Maps of Loss at Richview’s gallery on Saturday, September 10th (3-4 pm). Refreshments served!
The exhibit finishes at the end of September, but the beginning of October heralds another art event. On Saturday October 1st, Ellen Jaffe and I will be offering a Collage and Poetry Experience workshop at Northern District Library as part of the Culture Days program. This free workshop will take place from 10 am to 1 pm. For more detailed information, please click here.
Flower-Hatted Otters by Catherine Raine, 2011The Richview exhibit and workshop at Northern District unite two of my passions: libraries and art. I have blogged about both TPL branches as part of my quest to visit all 99 libraries in the system, and I have also found wonderful inspiration and materials from the Picture Collection and second-hand bookstore at Toronto Reference Library (as well as the sister bookstore at North York Central).
Libraries are natural homes for artists, and I feel so fortunate to share my work and experience at two wonderful branches!
It was my turn to DJ my women’s dance meeting last month. When I arrived at the Dancemakers studio, I put a king-size purple sheet on the floor near the windows. The sheet became our canvas for the session’s theme: Dancing in Quiet Gratitude.
In my music set, I included a number of songs that held the light: “Thread the light” (Glen Hansard‘s “This Low”), “There will be a light” (Ben Harper and the Blind Boys of Alabama), “There’s still a light that shines on me” (“Let it Be“), and Brian McMillan‘s encouraging lyrics in “Let the Darkness Go.”
Photo by Stewart Russell (Yes, those are Stewart’s toes in the lower right corner!)I invited my fellow dancers to decorate the purple sheet in response to the theme of gratitude. I had some fabric markers, but the small bottles of neon fabric paint proved more popular. The four of us filled the sheet with these words and images: rivers, voice, movement, bosoms, silliness, mistakes, great-grandmothers, grandmothers, mothers, daughters, safe girls, spirit, breath, the forest, laughter, rocks, fierce winds, night, moon, kindness, creativity sheets, raindrops, flowers, hope, fire, goldfinches, fierce goddess, play, community, beauty, thunder, food, wild grasses, health, smiles, art, ocean, a tomato, You!, a foot, refreshing tears, music, and lightning.
All remaining photos by Catherine Raine
Over the course of the two-hour music set, the purple sheet’s function evolved in a wonderful way. At the beginning, it was a picnic blanket on which to gather and discuss the theme of the session. When the music began, the sheet was a connecting fabric; all of us were lying on the floor with some part of us touching the sheet, whether it was only a head or an entire body curled up on it.
As the dance progressed, we crouched at the edges of the purple canvas each time we felt inspired to write or draw. Then we moved in to fill the centre when we were deeper into the set. And towards the end of our time in the studio, I started squirting fabric paint at random, and soon we were all squeezing the bottles and giggling as blobs of paint rained down on the sheet without constraint.
While we were collaborating on our modern art experiment, Brett Dennen was singing “Blessed is this life, and I’m going to celebrate being alive.” I felt that we honored the spirit of his words beautifully.
When the music ended, we were back in a circle, gathered around the no-longer blank sheet. Each of us talked about what images caught our fancy (the tomato, for me!). Then we ceremoniously folded up the sheet, even though I realized to my dismay that the fabric paint was still wet.
When I got home, I had to sort of peel the sheet apart! There were plenty of smears and blobs, but luckily most of the words and pictures remained clear. I hope you enjoy looking at the Purple Gratitude Sheet as much as we enjoyed making it!
