Thérèse Neelands

Detail from an un-used thesis painting

On January the 7th, Andrew returns to school after many, many years of being self-employed as a computer programmer. On the 7th, Andrew will start the Art & Design Foundation course at George Brown (lasting one year) and this February, has a portfolio interview at OCAD for Advanced Standing to enter the Industrial Design program. With all the preparation of him enrolling, putting a portfolio together, etc. I’ve been noticing a slight but growing jealousy on my part. Being a part of an art institution like OCAD, a place replete with words like “critical thinking”, “innovation”, “Leading in the Age of Imagination”, “unprecedented”, and “discovery”, it is easy to feel that you as an individual are propelling into the creative economy full of valuable, life-changing ideas and methods. You are part of a community of “enablers”, “facilitators”, and “collaborators.” So I’m thinking: here I am, almost 2 years graduated with a BFA, sitting in my bathrobe, eating Christmas dinner leftovers and watching t.v. and the closest I can get to “critical thinking” and “creative research” is reading my Canadian Art magazine, and getting a membership at the AGO. After the holidays, I will return to my desk job and hand out schedules, take out the garbage, buy flowers for the boardroom. And I’ll be thinking – “Hey! Where did my life-changing ideas go! How am I a leader in the Age of Imagination??

Side note: thinking about all this, and checking out a blog by annapantchev.blogspot.com
who mentioned Ernst Haeckel in her post today, reminded me of this painting (above image) that I have rolled away and stuck in a corner beside my desk. It’s a huge painting, and I hated it at the time, discarding it as part of my thesis work. I’ve decided to post some pictures of it in my gallery, though because it’s so large and un-framed, I’ve had to photograph it in pieces. Maybe one day I’ll finish the idea.

Fresh from my sewing machine

I finally started playing around with my sewing machine and put it to good use. With a little playing around (finally figuring out I had to put the presser foot down for it to start working, etc.) I made three cushion covers with some of my favourite heavy duty cotton. I can’t believe how easy they were to do, and fun!

More geeking around with my sewing machine to come

The little round thing on the coffee table are coasters I made from petri dishes, cotton material and acrylic gel.

Winter Light

The Impressionists loved the Paris landscape because it was often overcast and dim, allowing for sumptuous contrasts, variation in tones and expressive moodiness. The starkness of balmy Southern France could easily get tiresome. Although I love the light of the summer months, the palette of Canadian winter is something inspiring. There is warmth somehow, in the soft silvers and grays, and dots of pale almost white gold.

Torontonian side street

But I’ve also been thinking a lot about architecture. I have an unexplainable fascination with houses on Torontonian side streets. Tall, with narrow Victorian peaks, squished side by side. The have an almost human character to them, taken on by their many past and present residents. They sit squished and quiet, heavy with history and memory, peeling paint. Their windows are like tall, narrow eyes that in the evening, wink with lights from within.

Sky light

I’d like to start painting architecture, brush up on my perspectival skills (and I’ve lots to brush up on in that regard) and see what happens. Ever heard of The Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard? Ever since theisis year at OCAD, I can’t get it out of my mind. I also can’t get past the forward to the 1994 edition which sparkles my imagination. The book, even before I’ve read its entirety, is I know, quite complex.  I am almost afraid to read it, not wanting to unfold the mystery it holds for me. I think it’s time, though. Here’s the first paragraph to the forward:

Shells and doorknobs, closets and attics, old towers and peasant huts, all shimmer here, shimmer as points linked in the transcendental geometry of Gaston Bachelard. Ostensibly modest in compass, an inquiry focused on the house, its interior places and its outdoor context, The Poetics of Space resonates deeply, vibrating at the edges of imagination, exploring the recesses of the psyche, the hallways of the mind. In the house Bachelard discovers a metaphor of humanness.

Delicious!

Photo courtesy of http://stephvandermeulen.wordpress.com/

My walk through the park made it easier to head to work too early in the morning, as usual. At nine o’clock AM on a December day with a fresh snowfall, the world is pale gold with wintry blue shadows and hints of lavender. I like walking in the park on my way to work because all the neighbourhood dogs are out with their respective owners, off the leash and galloping after each other, sniffing bums (and er..licking them too), falling over eachother, barking at eachother, chasing falling snow and sticking their heads in it. They make me laugh when they crouch down in the snow to poop, their haunches quivering in the cold and excitment, hardly being able to contain themselves to stay still for just another moment. I don’t have the pleasure of canine company always, but every morning and evening, watching them gives me separation time from to do lists and office frustrations, and makes me look up from my footsteps and take in the landscape.