VICTORY COLOURS and PAINTS. Fine Art Atelier

Searching for photographers...

2010-08-01T18:02:00.000-04:00

OPEN CALL to PHOTOGRAPHERS....

If you are willing to be painted with your camera please contact Victory Studio @ 519-433-4814 or Victorystudio.ca

Odd jaw line... what does that say?

2010-05-17T13:02:00.000-04:00

My cowboy is back...

Emotive Lines...

2010-05-17T12:57:00.000-04:00

Newest face in clay...

Exploring the feelings of a line...

Pain? Despair? ... What Do You See? Views in Clay

2010-05-05T19:43:00.000-04:00

Cowboy... Experimenting with Form, Lines and Restraint...

2010-05-05T19:38:00.000-04:00

New Painting- I love this model...

2010-05-05T19:33:00.000-04:00

Works in Clay-

2010-04-25T19:16:00.000-04:00

I Love the mood of this sculpture

Painting- Stages- One and Two

2010-04-23T19:36:00.000-04:00

Sometimes people offer me photographs. This painting is 24 x 28"- Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas. The final work has not been photographed so I am unbale to post.

Image One-Sketch and the beginings of colour.

Image Two - More completed but not finished. Background and final touches not yet applied.

With permission of the photographer.

Work in Progress...

2010-04-21T20:09:00.001-04:00

Portraits in Clay

2010-04-17T15:49:00.000-04:00

Hand Sculpted Faces for your Garden-

2010-04-11T18:19:00.000-04:00

Newest sculpture

2010-04-09T13:07:00.000-04:00

Etudes D'une Bouche D' attente.

2010-03-27T14:53:00.000-04:00

*Travail Dans la glaise : petite étude sculpturale d'une femme. J'ai apprécié explorer sa forme : les seins complets, un grand derrière, une taille très petite, des lèvres complètes, une bouche d'attente.

*Working In clay: Small sculptural study of a woman. I enjoyed exploring her form : full breasts , a large behind, tiny waist, full lips, waiting mouth.

RED!

2010-03-26T21:08:00.001-04:00

I have enjoyed painting this one. I loved exploring variations of reds.

RED
Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas
1 1/2 "profile

I will post when she is fully realized.

Waxing Blue Balloons...

2010-03-17T20:53:00.000-04:00

MIXED MEDIA-
Encaustic and Oil

20 x 24 on stretched Linen Camvas

Mixed Media- Oil Portrait and Tinted Wax. I got tired of not having a heated pallete so I improvised using heated wax, mixed my own tints and then painted with my fingers. So I got a bit burned but it was well worth it. I miss Encaustics and can't wait to get back into it!

My Cowboy and His Horse

2010-03-12T18:10:00.001-05:00

He still isn't done, the sand, the mane, the tail, the sky ...

Acrylic On Stretched Linen Canvas
36 x 48 "
1 1/2 Profile

Another View of My Wonderful Cowboy and his Cart!

2010-03-03T20:12:00.000-05:00

Hamilton Has Cowboys.

2010-03-03T20:08:00.000-05:00

Hamilton Hunters and Anglers Association: This is one of the wonderfully kind and generous men I met in Hamilton. Cowboy with Cart: Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas: 36" x 48 " 1 1/2 " profile- Contact Victory Studio.

working on new series -

2010-02-24T19:33:00.001-05:00

I am hard at work on new series- Men in various states of play- On top of horses- after hours, in bars etc. I took some photographs of men in historical re-enactments and then others of road construction crews and of course my cowboys.

Mostly I am working in Acrylic as that is the main studio. But I am also working in oil. And I must say that I had contemplated amalgamating but have chosen not to. The environement is far too volatile and my access is far too tenuous! What if it storms and I am unable to get there. What would I do then? What do other people do? What do YOU do?

I love oil painting- the way it moves, stays open to interpretation.... Acrylic is far tighter. How do you negotiate? Mediums? Flow? Retarder?

Studio Views- Where I Work, and Explore

2010-02-23T21:31:00.000-05:00

Falling Water Hair

2010-02-16T18:41:00.000-05:00

Acrylic on Panel
20 x 28
Inspired by Images of Greece and Ancient Civilizations-
Hair painted as if a waterfall- a cascade of colour-

Working in Oil-

2010-02-08T17:14:00.002-05:00

I am working in oil and acrylic- dividing my time between the two- I enjoy the visceral quality, almost unforgiving nature of acrylic. You must make firm choices with more expediency. Yes, you can make use of glaze, mediums and retarders but there is a "follow" the gut element to it all. Certainly- dry brush scrumming is less hospitable.

Image # One- Work on lips and background-

Oil is much more forgiving. This is due to its slower drying times. Dry brush blending is a joy. Turning the hairs of your finest sable brush to a cheek or lip blending, allowing the hairs to slip over the canvas is joyous.

This portrait- is a Work in Progress. Oil on stretched linen canvas- 24 x 28- 50% completed-

Image # 2 Worked on Eyes, specifically Iris, Pupil and Light Sources.

Ms. B.

2010-02-06T09:08:00.000-05:00

Oil on Panel
From Supplied Photograph
24 x 28"
London, Canada

From the Oil Studio- A corner shot - Works in Progress-

2010-02-05T08:46:00.000-05:00

Working on several paintings at once- All in various stages of drying- Four old cowboys is underpainted and drying for next layer lower left- Woman on left "Radial Easel" needs final work to ear and small light touches but drying- Painting on floor- hair darks laid in and waiting for mid tones and clothing mid tones-smoothing out of face- particularly lips-

Piece on "Cappelletto" is saturated- I can do no more for at least a week- maybe 10 days- Did not use Walnut Oil- Like long slow process of waiting- It gets me to really enjoy- slow down and think- If I want a faster more visceral experience I go to the Acrylic Studio.

New Works In Progress- from the Acrylic Studio

2010-02-04T19:29:00.000-05:00

I am working on a new series in Acrylic-

Two Cowboys at a Bar
24 x 28 Stretchec Linen Canvas

Acrylic- with Glaze

The Larger Piece-

Old Men Make Old Cowboys
Acrylic On Stretched Linen Canvas
36 x 48

Alone in a Bar

2010-02-04T19:21:00.000-05:00

Waiting - Alone in a Bar
Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas
36 x 48 - 1 1/2 profile

Shot taken in Toronto

Old, run down bar on Queen East
Call for appointment to View

Ms. B-

2010-02-02T19:20:00.000-05:00

Ms B.

Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas

24 x 28 inches- 1 " profile

SOLD- London,

Corner View of the Atelier

2010-01-19T21:19:00.001-05:00

The Atelier comprises of two areas: This is a corner of a gloriously, large Studio. It is filled with huge windows, fantastic floor to ceiling shelving and a magnificent fire place.

The 10 foot Ceilings allow the masts of my various easels to fully extend.

Paintings sit on each of the easels in various stages of completion; drying and curing. Glazes and varnish waiting to be applied, paint beging to be mixed.

My full spectrum industrial art light (a most cherished gift from my partner) allows me an ability to work at night, early morning, dusk, anytime at all.

The painting sitting on my Double sided easel is a "work in progress". It is based upon a photograph taken in Toronto at an old, smokey, "past its Sell-By-Date" bar. I call it- Old Tart- 36 x 48-Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas- 1 1/2" Profile-

My Long Ago Pond

2010-01-18T19:28:00.000-05:00

This was my first pond in full bloom. I hand dug it, hand raised the Koi. I built this tiny bridge where my cat, Puck, would lay wtaching fish and sunning himself. The Koi would swim to me and take food from my fingers. I snapped an image one late summer day from my Studio Doors. Years later, long after I had moved away I came upon the image. I painted from memory and nostalgia.

My Pond
Acrylic on Stretched Linen Canvas
28 x 34

At The Beach

2010-01-18T18:45:00.000-05:00

At The Beach:

Acrylic On Stretched Linen Canvas
24 x 28"

This was a study in muted tones and controlled light.
I loved exploring the tones and rolls of the umbrella and how it related to the clothing, the sky, the shirt and even the dark, suntanned tones of skin.

My Medussa

2010-01-17T21:20:00.001-05:00

My Medussa-
Goddess of Self-Protection

Acrylic On Stretched Linen Canvas
36 x 48 "

Pricing and Shipping * Contact Victorystudio.ca

In Honour of My Laika....

2009-12-27T20:19:00.001-05:00

This is Laika.

Trompe L' eoille
Life Size- 20 x 18"
Acrylic and Oil on Wall

Master bedroom Wall
Sold with House- (Requested by Purchaser)

Laika was a fantastic little dog who, rather suddenly, at the tender age of 4, became terminally ill.

Looking towards? or Looking Away?

2009-12-25T10:17:00.000-05:00

Highlights and Lowlights- are integral to the success of any painting. Where are the light sources, how do you manipulate those lights in order to create a mood. Consider how the darks and structure and angle work together to support the image. Even the background defines the piece. Do you choose to add a somber quality? Neutral Element? Or is the very movement of the background adding to the meaning? Available for Viewing at the Studio 24 x 28- Linen Canvas-

Lava Flowed from Brush to Canvas....

2009-12-16T17:20:00.000-05:00

This painting felt incomplete. I left it to cure and settle. I kept revisitng her but it never felt right. Then suddenly there it was. I added the molten liquid to the background.

Over the next few days I kept visiting her again and again adding in layers of fine and more heavily applied strokes of molten. The coloured lava dripped and flowed as if spewing from somehwere deep underneath the surface.

Then as suddenly as it began... it suddenly screamed...

STOP NOW.

Juno, Perfect White Bread and Conversation

2009-11-26T10:54:00.003-05:00

Narrative Portraits are a demanding experience. The text attempts to reflect the sitter. Words are highlighted for emphasis. Aspects of personality are gleaned from interview, body language, gestures and intuition. This form of portrature attempts to engage the vieweer to "see" the subject beyond the structure of the face and pose.

Text frames the face and core. It is woven into the folds of the clothing. Words are obscurred through lines and folds forcing the viewer to choose to either spend time with the subject or walk away. This process is much like life...

Untitled - SOLD London-

2009-10-30T09:42:00.002-04:00

Simple, simple, simple. I don't know where all of this is going. It just feels right.

Deconstruction.

2009-10-30T09:38:00.000-04:00

Lately I have been playing with ideas of deconstruction- Images which are partial or nuance driven. What is in a look? What is meant not by what is viewed directly but rather what are the emotions being offered by what is absent?

Inspiration is birthed in odd and unexpected places... -SOLD London-

2009-10-30T09:33:00.002-04:00

Inspiration is birthed in sometimes odd and unexpected places... Animals are not my thing.I decided to give it a try. I used a poor photograph. Actually it was just a portion of a photograph as I opted to omit the rider and context. I focussed upon the head of the horse. Keeping it relatively simple was the goal. The piece was loosely sketched with a hard charcoal pencil. The Bridle still partially in "Sketch Mode". Then I changed to a medium and soft charcoal. I limited myself to these two pencils.

I was interested in exploring both an animal shape that I was painfully unfamiliar with as well as the implied movement. This was done by both the strident pose, the hair and the angle of the nose. The gaze of the animal I believe also supports the feeling of motion.

This unfinished "end" result is 24 x 36 " on medium tooth paper.

SOLD- To Private Collector-

fOLLOW THE LIGHT...

2009-10-15T19:21:00.009-04:00

In the example to the left the hot spots are not fully developed. The cold spots are not contrasted enough to make the features or elements pop and develop.I spent some time adding layers of charcoal to the facial structures. I was careful to follow the light source. Background and context were added again by laying inFinal Piece- RECLINING MALE- 24 X 36"- CHARCOAL ON PAPER

In Black and White

2009-10-15T16:31:00.000-04:00

Charcoal is a lovely medium- Don't be afraid to have fun with it- Studios are made to be messy- Willow Charcoal is messy - there will be dust and bits and chunks and dirty fingers. But art and painting makes a mess too! Have FUN- Create-I used two instruments-I used Coates Willow Sticks- the finest and smallest I could comfortably handle- Then I used a medium #4 Tortillion or Blending Stump. The paper is a medium tooth. The piece is 24 X 36 "

Stages of a Portrait - London-

2009-10-01T17:53:00.004-04:00

The 1st painting stage is the initial stage of sketch and under painting- Here I opted to use a combination of Ochre and Hansa yellow. This was partially influenced by the colouring of the subject and the overall temperature of the finished painting I was trying to achieve. I always try and have a sense of the emotional temperature I want at the end.

Painting Stage Number 2- is the piece "En Progree"
Here some of the tones and colours have been applied. But it is a long way from completed. The values have no life and the eyes are flat and two dimensional. I have begun to develop the nose, mouth area and chin.
At this point I am thinking about each choice and how it affects other elements. I do concentrate on sections but I am always mindful of the total affect - what do i want to emphasize. What do I want to camouflage. What do I want to reveal.

Painting Stage Number 3- is the final portrait. Here I opted to maintain a truthful representation of the pallid values of the subject. The lip colour was not "boosted" for the purposes of the portrait as the subject does not apply lip colour in her life. The hair and eye colour are truthful values. The cropping was chosen to focus attention on the features. The direction of the gaze is both engaging and yet avoiding.

Painting Details: Acrylic on Linen Canvas - 20 x 24 - 1 1/2 " Profile.

Why Pay Attention to BACKGROUND?

2009-09-29T12:23:00.008-04:00

The IMPACT of Background on a portrait is enormous; tonal values, the mood, the image itself all are affected by how the image is "framed". It is the context of the piece. The intensity or formality of a piece will change when you choose both the colours of the background and the tone. Brushwork plays a huge role. Traditionally you might choose to frame the face with lighter tones fanning a way from the face and body and slowly integrating other colours. Or you may in fact choose the reverse. An intensely applied Inner coat which can act to frame the face and body then a more diffuse approach to the exterior. This is where the strokes of your brush will impact. An intense background can be created in lighter tones but with fretful brush work. Don't limit yourself to long sweeping fluid strokes. Experiment, play, use your full arm. Allow the background to say something about the subject. What does the direction of the background reveal about character? Don't be afraid to add your "Artistic Comment."

You may decide that you wish to add in other physical elements. How does your subject interact or avoid their environment? The environment still needs a background. I once painted a woman sitting in a library. There she was astride a chair looking at nothing in particular, wilfully ignoring the books. But over her left shoulder was a window- What sky did I paint? And what was I trying to say because of the mood of the sky? Everything you do once you pick up that brush is a choice. What do your choices reveal? What do they conceal? Why are you painting this particular subject? How does your choice of background support those decisions?

*As a side note- I used one Black and White still image as a reference shot.

The image below is exactly the same as the image to the right with the exception of background.
Painting details: Acrylic and Oil on Linen Board- 20 x 24".

Bump or Not?

2009-09-25T15:38:00.003-04:00

I go through phases. I spend long long periods of time when I never do any sort of self-portrait. I tend to be attracted to elements on faces I don't know. But there is something to be said for exploring something familiar and finding another point of view.

There is a liberating quality to searching more deliberately for greater nuances in the iris or the structure of lines in the mouth. It is challenging to re-visit a subject which changes as years pass. It is familiar and yet oddly new. I found that I was drawn to exploring the shades and hues in this deeply intense, profoundly blue turtle-neck. Then I chose to use the blue again; reflecting it in the choice of background. I found that after a long hard winter the skin tone was "Paler" and this was intensified by the colour of the top.

At first I was very aware of the subject. But soon I was completely disengaged from a sense of ownership. This ambivalent relationship ebbed and flowed during the entire time at the easel. I suspect it continues even now. I enjoyed the lines which defined a life lived. My relationship to the subject shifted as I focussed on each isolated and yet interconnected element. I chose to alter the hair colour.The lips were left pale and unvarnished. The line of the nose continues to reflect a bump received after a childhood accident. This choice proved extremely difficult as it pushes and pulls at my aesthetic self-definition. In the end I left it as a more truthful reflection of physical self.

The piece ultimately was framed. Acrylic on Linen Board- 20 x 24 "

Two Views of MS. K. - SOLD Toronto

2009-09-25T15:00:00.005-04:00

Ms. Kim proved an interesting process. The size and format of the final painting impacted upon process. The largess of the physical space diminished some intensity naturally born from smaller pieces. I used the softened lines to make a statement about the subject.

The piece on the left - ( Acrylic on Panel- 20 x 24" ) was a study where I wanted to just explore colour. It was also interesting that men who visited the studio were far more drawn to the tones and colour of the study. Ms. K. has the most exceptionally beautiful eyes. I found that I had to work it through before tackling a more traditional approach. Her milky blue, almost translucent skin demanded a softened approach to the entire painting.

The final piece, ( Acrylic on Stretched Canvas- 36 x 48") was a considerable shift in size. I enjoyed the process of a "waterfall" approach to the garment and background.

Working from Photographs

2009-09-23T23:20:00.005-04:00

I enjoy working from photographs. I take several shots of the subject. Sometimes it's very much of the moment. Something in their look or shape just pulls at me. It takes some courage but I find ways of mustering up the nerve to ask if they will allow me to take a photograph. Then I think about it, about them. Sometimes the work comes quickly. It won't let me sleep until I can develop the thoughts on canvas.Then there are other times when it takes a lot longer. This piece took several hours and went through several stages before I was more contented with the results. Even now there are elements which don't truly sit still.

This is a view of the piece "En Progress" . I had two final shots and ultimately opted for a collaboration of elements of both. The piece below is the finished painting, although for me it never is truly finished.

Final Painting- Monsieur G. - Acrylic on Panel -
*Here the subject is a Photographer. Lens and brush are turned towards someone usually behind the camera, "Hidden from View" .Photograph taken by a professional photographer in his studio.

"Faint Hope Clauses" Live At The Coffee Bar

2009-09-16T17:29:00.000-04:00

Picture yourself walking into a small intimate coffee bar. You are standing in line quietly waiting for the young man behind the large whistling and whirling machine to ask you that wonderful question... "What can I get you?-" I have been thinking about this cup of liquid heaven since morning when I decided - to hell with the budget stuff - I am going to indulge in a fabulous - over the top- incredibly costly- but oh-so- worth- it- Cappuccino. I have thought about carrying my cup over to the side bar and slowly smelling the brown spice that would tumble onto the top of the frothy milk. Double m- yumm- bitter-sweet Madagascar Cinnamon. I stand there patiently waiting as each person mumbles their order. As they leave the queue that all knowing grin moves across lips. They are anticipating that amazing first sip. I move up one spot. Soon- soon- the want of it is building. That smell hits as a woman walks by. Ahhhh. Cinnamon, frothy milk. YUMMMMM. My brain is processing. Another step forward. I don't remember this many people last time I allowed myself a visit. Oh no- I think. What if they get terribly popular and then the prices change. No- don't panic. I look over at the board. I allow my eyes to scan it and there it is- Cappuccino- small- or large- No medium?- That's interesting- Maybe they had a hard time finding the cup size from the wholesaler. My mind wanders. Okay- I tell myself- Only a small- That's $8.49 + taxes! Think. Be good. It's a $10.00 cup of coffee. The line moves. I try and hold to my resolve to order the small size. But look- everyone else is having a large. I notice a couple standing in front of me. They aren't speaking. My mind registers but I have other thoughts crowding out their disjointed image. I have been so good lately and it has been a hard month. My hair is wild- I opted for the budget brand of conditioner. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window- I do deserve it. Deserve it- I look at the non- couple again. What is it that makes me notice? Coffee. Keep my mind on the coffee. I'm splitting again. Getting distracted. I clutch at the portfolio, pulling it in to my body. Ah, that feels better. Comforting. I breathe a little easier and think back to the coffee... and I play games with myself. What if I buy the larger one? Actually it is cheaper because of the amount of coffee against volume makes it a far better choice. It's being financially responsible. I am a great comparison shopper. The line shift forward towards the young man. I watch as friends meet and laugh together. The couple in front are not speaking. She is looking at her feet, scrutinizing her classic brown pumps. He is looking ahead, not looking; or at least trying to look as if he is not looking. I pull my portfolio closer almost folding it around my chest. I try not to think about standing there alone. Besides, I am not really alone. I'll have a cup of Cappuccino with me in a few moments. And they do serve it in such charming white porcelain cups. My pencils are in the case- where did I put that? Oh yes- it's in my ruck sack. I look at the woman in brown patten pumps. They are new and there is a faint smell of leather. I can't imagine her wearing a ruck sack. She is so elegantly long. I want to sketch her. I want to tap her on her perfectly postured shoulder and force the words from my throat- "Please- would you come to my studio and take off your clothes and let me paint your beautifully languid lines?" I look down and stare at her heels. His feet are facing away from hers. Hers are together. Matched and straight. What an amazing painting it would make. Square canvas I think would do best. His are turned- facing the shop. His shoes are shined but older. There is a scuff mark, almost hidden but not quite. The colour of the deep blue lace-up matches his trouser pants. Prussian Blue with a hint of... of... maybe some Cerulean. Did she choose it when she was still interested? The feet tell the distance between them. Together and apart. Would a painting show what my guts are seeing? I reach into my pocket and play with the money. I know it's a twenty. I know because I have been playing with it the entire walk over to the Coffee Bar. Well, if a small is $8.49 (sounds so much better without the taxes) and a large is $12.49 it's actually much better to buy the large. And it does come with a Biscotti- Then I remember. I don't like Biscotti-I wonder if she eats Biscotti- too beautiful- too perfect in her pencil skirt and cropped jacket. Is is tweed? Wow- look at the threads and textures. Number 08 flat- and then maybe a fan to pull threads. Look at the tones. The light is catching the burnished yellows and just a hint of vat orange. Coffee. Get back to the coffee. The large one-Biscotti- free- well not free just included in the price. Either way it does come with it. I tell myself that just shows what a good deal the large size is. So, if I did like Biscotti it would be like getting Cappuccino and dessert. That would be a great value. Or if I had a friend with me then I could offer them the Biscotti. I wonder if she will offer him her Biscotti- but I already know she won't. I have always hung on to "Faint Hope Clauses". Faint hope that she won't really say something he won't want to hear. Faint hope clauses... Think about something else- switch- don't notice - just this once don't care- everyone is not a lost puppy. Faint hope clauses- I could always take the Biscotti home afterwards. But I know it would just sit on the kitchen counter; an offering for the cat. He will bite at it then unimpressed he will eventually knock it to the floor. Later that week I will have to get the broom out and using the handle as a sort of wedge, get it out from under the refrigerator. I think about myself, lying on the cold kitchen floor, bent into most unreasonable shapes pushing and jabbing the broom handle back and forth. Do women who wear tweed lay on kitchen floors? Come on- why do those little bits of stuff always find the hardest spot possible to get at. I admit to having thought many times of leaving it, but then I think about what could come into the house if I do. Change directions- Wrong way- Focus- FOCUS on the CAPPUCCINO- COME BACK! LARGE! Definitely a LARGE in fact right now I would order an Extra- Jumbo-if they had it! Another step- Only the two ahead of you now- Oh- She ordered a Double Cappuccino with an extra shot of Espresso, no fat soy. Wow! She chooses to look at the server not the man. He places his hand over his wallet. He taps it with his finger. He looks at the board. (I can't help but wonder what he is thinking) He then orders a Machiatto- double shot- full fat with added caramel. What was that?! I wonder- The machine whistles and whirls- The young man moves around the shiny chrome handles with an ease of a well choreographed relationship. These are rehearsed steps. He pulls at something and the machine purrs in response. A thought floods over me - He moves around the various utters and protrusions with an agility that is astonishing. Maybe classic Cappuccino isn't really such an indulgence. I roll the money around in my pocket. Then I remember- property taxes and yearly vet bills and I really do need a lawn mower... Cappuccino with wonderfully frothy milk and Madagascar Cinnamon gently sprinkled on top... a small one. The man hands the woman her drink. She takes a paper serviette from the counter and folds it over the lip of the saucer before taking it in her hand. No smile. Oh oh- I can hear my brain ticking. What is so dirty or maybe too hot to handle. She needs a barrier. She wanted that double shot of Espresso for a reason. She has something to say to him. I turn back to the face the counter. My head down, I feel my shoulders fall. It's recognition fatigue. I know what might be coming. I remember another time in a coffee bar. The man takes his drink. The large bowl like cup is overflowing with a mountainous dollop of whipped cream. Caramel is artistically draped across the top slightly pushing down the rest forcing a white lava flow over the rim. It drips onto the floor and the tip of his polished shoe. He looks over to see where she is seated. She does not get up to help. He places the cup down upon the counter and reaches into his wallet. The chrome mistress burps a final time. Final time. Why doesn't he see? I wonder if she will wait for him to at least enjoy the caramel and cream before she tells him. Yes, definitely a small. I think to myself. The man reaches into his wallet and hands the maestro of the coffee bar $40.00! I watch in fascination as he gets back some change. It all happens too quickly to do any mental mathematics. But the feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me it will be a very costly morning for him. Faint hope clause- hang on- Then I look over and see her manicured nails are endlessly stirring and stirring her cup. I watch as he walks over. She keeps stirring. I hang on to the faint hope clause pushing down the feeling swelling inside of me. I can see the tableau of images. I turn and order a small Cappuccino to go. I wait quietly as the young man moves, completing his dance with the Italian Chrome machine. I watch as she stirs and then slowly begins to speak. She is saying something. He leans forward. She is not looking at him but still stirs. He places his hand over hers as if asking her to stop. The foam is gone- Stirred away. She retracts her hand and he is left holding air.I hear someone speaking. Oh it's to me! I reach into my pocket and hand away my money. I leave my hand open and I can feel coins dropping into the palm. The man sits back in his chair. Faint hope clauses I tell myself. Try and believe in them. I take my coffee in the paper cup with the lid crushing the wonderful foam. I walk over to the cinnamon. I watch as she gets up and walks out of the coffee bar. Her heels echo a quick click. Then the door and she vanishes. He remains motionless. The caramel and cream are dripping down the sides of the porcelain cup. I reach into my sack and pull out a card. I write on the back- Please, Try and Believe in "Faint Hope Clauses". I walk over to his table and place the card down in front of him. I smile and leave. Half way down the street I realize, I left my Cappuccino at the coffee bar.

Are You A BoBo?

2009-09-10T20:26:00.002-04:00

What is the difference between optimism and pessimism? What makes us resilient? What gives our bones an ability to be BOBO like? "Are you an optimist? " he asked. "I... well." Stalling for words, she shrugged. "Okay. Then if you can't commit to that. Are you a pessimist?" he asked again, the slight sound of irritation birthing in the back of his throat. "ummm, well," she slid out after a long pause. "Look, it really isn't that hard a question," frustration - or was it impatience? She felt the weather changing between them. A 'nor-easter' was blowing in. She tried to think. But the words just lay in the bottom churning in acid. She looked up, "Oh," she mumbled as she watched the expression on his face flatten out. She recognized the flashing yellow. Yield. Yield to the oncoming traffic.The air was getting colder. Without looking at him she raised to a half whisper, "For you ." "For me what?" he interrupted. Quick, swerve. You'll drive right... "For you maybe." "But it's so simple," he kept on not really registering her at all. "Either you see a glass as half full, or you see it as half empty." Silence. Long. Empty. Space. He rolled his eyes. They had been here before. She anticipating his reaction; what she saw as disapproval. He anticipating her inane non-response. More silence. Why wouldn't she respond - It was either one or the other in his mind. She sat. Head down, fingering the ends of her skirt. She rolled the folds of fabric in and out of her finger tips as if recreating a child's game of Cat's Cradle... "Oh come on," his anger mounting. This was not funny or cute. She was being obstructive. He found her - so very uninteresting. She could smell his mounting feeling, his disdain. The words just stuck in her throat. She could never really talk to him. He did not want to hear her. Listen. Understand. Support. It was always about being ...what? She just did not know the answer. He sipped his drink and asked the waitress for the bill. Her glass was still half full. She knew what would be next. If she gave the wrong answer or one he could never understand he would just dismiss her. Her head was full and empty. Thoughts. She watched as the bill was neatly placed upon the table, hidden in a perfect black casket. "Say something," she told herself. She watched as he pulled out the credit card. "Say something, anything," she begged herself. She watched as he waited for the waitress to return. "Just open your mouth and say something," she pleaded with herself. She watched as he looked over the bill and began to sign. Then he stood up. He would not even look at her. "I..." he glanced in her vague direction. She struggled with the words. "I..." "You said that already," he grumbled as he began to leave the table. "I am not an optimist or a pessimist. I don't see the glass as half full or half empty..." He looked away and shook his head. Then he turned and began to walk away.

"I can't look at it that way. Don't you understand! I can't ever see it as half full or as half empty. I just keep waiting for that glass to be knocked over!"

The Colours of Coffee...

2009-09-08T08:24:00.001-04:00

We met at a lovely coffee shop called, Balzac.The round metal tables were so intimately placed as to cause the local fire marshal grief. He was reading a paper and sipping on coffee as I found a resting spot. I let out an "Hummmm," as I sipped the Cappuccino with extra Cinnamon. The colour, the aroma, the taste all pull at me and when it garnishes a truly well blended cup of coffee. Delicious. He must have seen my delight and offered a compatriot's knowing smile. Coffee has saved me a few times. Hot and black on days I did not want to be somewhere - Or adding more cream to buy me time when I needed to think or pause during a conversation- Or hotter and blacker during a business meeting that was not going as well as I would hope for - Or stirring coffee as one listens and takes in the colours of shared thoughts and history. Reciprocity. Languidly sipping with a friend. Making every last drop matter when you don't want to go. And sometimes, if you are very fortunate, coffee brings the gift of a painting...

Who Knew Asses Were Made of Metal?

2009-09-06T09:07:00.009-04:00

Reluctantly my walls of vanity fell. I slipped the lime green squishy bits into my ears. I had visions of leaving with sudden onset deafness. People in my family already scream at me I didn't need to encourage them. I looked around. Standing before me was a huge metal...uh, well it was a sort of, kind of... ass. I don't mean a Burro or a Mule. I mean the back end of a bent over... actually I am not sure if it was an animal. I am not an outdoor kind of person. I don't camp. To me camping is like being homeless on purpose. Who does that? This back end had clearly never done Yoga. Or taken a Pilates class. Or been to a gym. It was very gushy and soft and puddled over the edges like meters of expensive cloth. It was mildly reminiscent of a not- so- elderly relative of mine when with a huge grunt would brace her rather well proportioned feet, anchor herself against the side of the cupboard and a chair then fold herself in half to grab something off of the kitchen floor. Then she would sweep at the floor, swooshing and exhaling in exasperation. Thankfully, I never knew what it was. I never saw what was in her hand although she always wanted to show it to me. I had visions of things which had dripped from some sort of orifice and knowing who lived in the house it was not a pretty picture. This ritual was always followed by, "Okay, now we can eat." The gigantic rear end was pinned to the ties of a retaining wall. A lane of grass a meter or two wide separated it from a wooden table. The table was long and narrow. I did the mental math and came to the conclusion that the large metal piece was in fact a target. Perhaps the extravagantly painted markings should have been my first clue. Okay, I never said I was bright. And I did say I was from the city. The only meat I know is neatly arranged, hermetically sealed comes already breaded and carefully placed in a Ciabatta Bun and if you add enough stuff you don't even notice the breaded bits that can stick to your teeth.

BANG BANG! Stick THIS!

2009-09-03T19:06:00.003-04:00

Okay so maybe it was the lure of a day in the sun. Or maybe it was just the raw adventure of it, or maybe, it was even me feeling a bit smug. But later that week I found myself in the truck making pleasant conversation, actually I was avoiding. After a couple of hours and the female voice of a GPS system barking orders at my friend. (Why do men listen to the GPS but won't ask us for directions? I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Moses had just stopped wandering long enough to ask his wife? Maybe it would not have taken 40 years? Men would rather be late then just ask. Anyway, the GPS barked, in 450 meters, turn left, in 1326 meters turn left then turn right. "I knew that," My friend would say as he followed her commands. Eventually, it was announced with a smile of satisfaction that we had arrived. I looked around- "Where?" All I saw was a very high gate and then a very low field. We parked around a corner. Quietly he disembarked from the truck and I quietly followed. "I didn't think I should make any sudden noise. Then he turned left, absent the GPS. So I turned left, on we went through an opening in a large stone wall, across a low field, through a gate, followed a dirty path (My shoes were covered in dust) Maybe this was an attempt at ambiance. Onward we walked over some gravel, (I felt like any minute I would fall down a rabbit hole)then through another gated enclosure. BANG!! BANG BANG BANG! "Oh." my friend said- you might want to put these in your ears." "Great, " I thought- Lime Green ear plugs- that really looks just perfect with my carefully planned perfectly co-ordinated to look very casual outfit. "Thank you." I feigned a smile. I stood there holding the squishy oblong bits. BANG BANG BANG!!!! He began frantically pointing to the sides of his face- "WHAT?" Is he trying to tell me I need a shave? Because I wanted to assure him I don't have any facial hair. No I absolutely do NOT belong to the Female Pluckers of Wayward Hairs On Chins Society. "Stick them in!" He yelled. "You stick them in! " I yelled back.And I was sure I did not mean ears!

Well, they weren't dressed like Miss Kitty.

2009-09-02T18:28:00.005-04:00

Recently, I was invited to watch live cowboys at a shooting match. I don't like guns. I am a Canadian. Guns are for the police and the Mounties up in the Yukon. I wondered why grown men would spend time dressing up in cowboy costumes. I wondered if there was some deeply seeded childhood hurt. Maybe their toys had been taken away? Maybe they watched Gunsmoke and took it a little too seriously? I am from a large city and the only men I knew that dressed up were Drag Queens. I sort of figured out they were not going to be a Victor/Victoria version of the old West. Do we even have an old west in Canada?