Love these works especially more so as they have been recently relocated within the gallery; they are better displayed now. A true shaman of the first order, Norval Morrisseau.
Here’s to the most remarkably accomplished Mature-souled Slave in the modern era. Brava! Well done indeed… I remember long ago during childhood, all of St. Kitts was scrubbed and excited. There was bunting everywhere and it seemed almost like Christmas time which would, after Boxing Day, bleed into Carnival – a time of laughter, dancing, fun and excitement.
There in the shadow of Brimstone Hill Fortress, on another beautiful, sunny West Indian day, HM Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh drove past headed north through the lone street of Sandy Point, St. Kitts. I was on the east side of the road, across from the playing field down which only two days earlier, I had the honour of slipping and falling into the large open sewer drain from Pogson Hospital where caterpillars were a welcome sight on its old growth of magnolia trees. My mother, Harella, a teacher in the school that I attended, promptly had me take off my favourite pair of shorts and had them hung out to dry.
Never mind that I had been wearing no such thing as underwear; thus, I had to endure an eternity of two days with every little girl in the school chasing after me because there was I with my bits hanging out whilst wearing a shirt that could hardly make it down to my sexy belly button. I got a good glimpse of HM Queen Elizabeth II as she drove past, waving and looking out and to my side of the road no less.
Rupert Alexander’s portrait of HM The Queen (sml).jpg
The moment was brief, as little union jacks excitedly waved and everyone boisterously cheered. Just like that… she was gone. I was so grateful for the queen having visited to mark the independence of St. Kitts, Nevis and Anguilla as they entered statehood. Her visit had stealthily eclipsed my shame at having been chased about the Sandy Point recreation grounds being teased by every girl… to say nothing of boy.
After her majesty drove past, as the excitement of the moment wore on, the gaggle of similar-aged boys (6-8 years old) with whom I stood waving and cheering made our move. This was a good enough excuse to dash up the lane and into the sugar cane fields where more long, hot and passionate moments of intercrural play was accompanied by whispered quickened breaths and proclamations of love – after all among us seven boys there was one who, though dumb as all fuck, proved my initiation into that most obsessive of fraternities – size queendom. Older souls are not born innocent…
Here’s to Elizabeth Regina… Indeed, it has been good to be incarnate in this the second Elizabethan Age and a glorious one it has been. Like Nelson Mandela, this remarkable human being inspires ready admiration, respect and her centred nobility of spirit in truly inspiring…
How did I not know of this creative genius before? Well, apart from not being awash in multiple millions… I have watched this painting for the past several weeks truly enraptured. Of course, thanks to the schadenfreude that was Evan Solomon’s demise – goodness, if you sneezed, it’s very likely that you would have missed it – I have finally found Peter Doig.
Of course, I don’t look at TV so his departure from CBC would have been more readily noticed. Moral of the story: do not ever try extorting money from the rich… and a lawyer to boot – Bruce Bailey. Goodness, what could he possibly have been thinking? The greedy twat… adieu! Goodness, I have not laughed so hard in long ages.
As Sunday is my birthday, I am going to be shaking tail feathers – it’s also Caribana or whatever it is now called – and being feted over the next couple of nights. Happy summer, sweet dreams and my but I love this Peter Doig painting.
Happy 148th Canada – for more than half my life, I have had some truly remarkable, uplifting experiences whilst living here. Too, I shared a great love with my Canadian-born task companion, Merlin.
Regrettably, I could neither find the dimensions nor year of creation for the masterful Charles Pachter flag which I would presume is an Oil on Canvas.
Happy Canada Day – my life experience has been immensely enriched for having remained focussed here in this great land.
I decided to see what an intense observation of couples whom I know very well would produce. I trust my own process enough to know that if I allow it to unfold naturally, the results will have a certain integrity – which I think this series does. This portrait, of Janet and Gordon Belray in their garden, references their commitment to one another in the face of serious health issues, and the hope that comes from the garden – a metaphor of restoration and continuation. I feel that the intensity of their connection to one another and their hopes for their children are suspended in this simple examination. – George Hawken.
____________________
Had a most lucid astral plane encounter with George last night. We sat at a deuce visiting. For me, I have come to realise that whenever thusly situated on the astral plane, the encounter will be languorously rhapsodic. Our eye contact was intense and direct and we hardly said anything to each other which, incidentally, was always the case when visiting in person.
George and I were lovers, long ago, and as I was then his muse our passion inspired the lithograph, Pink Chair, which has been previously shared on this blog. I love this piece and on my return from living in Montréal, the artist was then working on this series of portraits. I had hoped to have been included in the series but alas it was not to be.