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And - restaurant opening deferred until tomorrow, so this evening it's the member's show at the museum.
I bought/renewed my membership for this. It should be good.
I was right, it didn't disappoint. A very mixed bag of art - watercolor, acrylic, oil, encaustic, mixed, some "flowers" done in the acrylic pouring style that inspired me - these were what the technique was designed for, and they're realized perfectly. All of the art shows talent, perfection of technique, but there are only a few pieces that grab me. A few, simply the execution - not the subject (landscapes, local architecture, mountain scenes). There's a fine picture of Gimli peak, very moody, but unfortunately printed onto canvas - I hate this. Photography is an art form that shouldn't be printed on canvas - it's an attempt to make it - well, something it's not. It doesn't improve it.
Some sculptural pieces, I need to learn to weld. Actually, I don't really, I need to find a place to work. This lack of studio/think space is killing me.
And on and on, the gallery - small, crowded, they're selling wine and have canapes out, and there's a few people from the community I recognize and a lot more that I don't.
I find M***'s piece, M*** from the thrift shop, and it's good, mixed media on canvas, abstracted to the point you wouldn't recognize it as a person - merely textures and colors, but that was his point. He arrived to much greater effect at what he was trying to do as I would attempting to do a figurative self-portrait spending hours looking into the mirror.
...I'm impressed, it's good, will probably sell, it's decorative, pretty, people like this. And I'm a little closer to understanding him, "his art" - always hinting - never giving anything away, but that's his charm...
Visit, but the gallery is crowded, only the smaller half of the gallery is open and it's a milling ground for people to chat and catch up, "Society" as it were, and had I dressed a little better, or taken the time to get a piece into the show (how? I need a place to work...) I might have - should have - taken the leisure to socialize, grab a glass of wine and "hob-nob", but it was a bit crowded...
But - again - 5 Stars, local talent overflows and there's abundant inspiration and something to work towards next year...I'm curious how much of this sells, prices vary from a few hundred to close to ten grand, very curious indeed...
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Sitting at the Kootenay Bakery, watching the passers by on Baker.
Daniel Boon, late 50's, in a 'coonskin cap, lumberjack-plaid shirt, a long beard...
A stocky but tall Alan Moore with Wizard's robe and staff...
Both of the above appear careless in their appearance, but, look closer, not at all, not at all...
A beatnik, reflective glasses, tilted flat Gatsby cap, plaid sports jacket, clean shaven...
The artist or writer, a-la Dudley Moore, Long curly hair, oversized beige-green cable knit sweater, khaki-beige trousers, Doc Martens, a blue scarf around his neck and tucked into his sweater, khaki canvas messenger bag over his shoulder, this one, he cultivates a certain air of aloofness,
The DJ, horn-rimmed glasses, a neck tattoo, buzzcut left a little longer on top, a goatee under his chin, fashionable...
Skinny guy with long dreads down to his waist, bundled under a Rasta-cap, long wispy moustache and goatee, sauntering jauntily....
There are some new buskers out living the dream, new faces, a newly welcomed "guitar" guy got a shout out in the local "hugs & slugs" for livening somebodies day, have seen him around, long black trench coat,...
and this is how you know that summer's coming, all the absurd new characters that pop-up in their spiritual pilgrimage to Nelson...
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Watched this on Netflix, left me feeling very much - well, soiled.
For those who don't know, Monique Olivier, "The Ogress of Ardenne", was the wife of Michel Fourniret, Frances most prolific child molester and serial killer.
The gist of it is that Monique Olivier was a very willing and helpful accomplice, who took perverse pleasure in assisting her husband in capturing the victims.
What is amazing about this is how incredulous people are - always - when a woman proves she can be every bit as evil as a man. They "naturally" jump to the conclusion that she's a "Victim", despite all evidence and confessions to the contrary, and all this pretended surprise serves no one.
Anyways, a mediocre documentary about a very disturbing topic. Not worth the time. But - consider this - you very likely know or have met people just like this, they only wanted the encouragement or opportunity...I certainly have.
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Now there's a homeless guy I regularly encounter, probably - what - 70 years old? Can't tell. He's always on the corner, from sun-up to sun down, dressed in Hippy Gear, a blackened dirty face, filthy clothing and dreadlocks, mirrored sunglasses, toothless and with thick fingernails sharpened into yellow talons.
He's a local - Celebrity? Sadhu? It's hard to say, he's been around forever. If you slow down when you pass him he'll try and lure you into a conversation, which - if you've talked with crazy, is the last thing you want. You'll get, depending on his mood, descriptions of his morning ablutions, lectures on big forestry, the gentrification of Nelson, you name it, he's got his finger on the pulse. And this is what he does all day, every day, trying to start conversations with every passer by, trapping the unwary in wells of irrelevance that can go for hours, days if you'll let him...
Now I'm on my way to volunteer, no time for this nonsense this morning, quickly trying to pass him, excuse myself from his irrelevance, and he yells after me: "Do you know who saved my life? RUDOLF STEINER". And I have to remember this because....
I have a friend, she works at Waldorf, and - well, Waldorf and Rudolf, they're close. He's one of their big influences. And so I'm telling her, she has to pick him up, bring him to the school, a motivational speaker, have him tell the children, and you know I'm having far too much fun...
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Cold, raining, and of course the Library's closed and the cafe's are overflowing, the best you can hope to do is to rent a table for twenty or so minutes.
To stay longer would be rude, there's always someone hovering nearby checking the status of your coffee, that jealous green eye-on-your-table, "here, let me help you with that..."...
SO, open the laptop and do some eavesdropping.
There's an older couple beside me, 60's I'm guessing, the man is very earnestly clutching his dates hands, she's catching my eye, not quite an eye-roll or "rescue me" but...listening to their conversation, it's a first date...!!!? The conversation gives it away, they don't know each other, not at all. Then why, I'm wondering, is he clutching her hands over the end of the table? They must have met on one of those dating sites...."My Time" or "Our Time" or "Frisky Seniors" for divorcees & widows making merry, apparently these are the days my friend, these are the days, I can believe it looking at them but am so on the down-low that there's been no time to partake, and this hostage-taking happening at the table next to me, it's not inspiring...not at all.
The date ends, my coffee's finished, wait until they leave before folding up the laptop and disappearing. Sundays, Days off, at the moment they're the worst. Soon enough there will be none...