Silver Bells, Golden Giving; Galerie 240 December 1, 2010 – Group Show Through January 15, 2011

Process; Friday November 26, 2010 I applied a first layer of liquid colour to pre-primed canvas undercoated with black and white paint.

 

Hi All,

That season is upon us now. 

 

 

Making the 2010 holiday season bright and clear and even more colourful and radiant, Galerie 240 in Ottawa presents a group show of Galerie 240 artists titled, “Silver Bells, Golden Giving.”

 

 

Silver Bells, Golden Giving features work from Brenda Gale Warner, Tom Wilson, Bana, Jeanne Wilkinson, Sheryl Saddiqui, Valerie Roos, Eamon, Leona Brown and John Redmond.

 

Here is the total silver-gold  scoop on the poster;

 

Location Location Location; 

Galerie 240, 240 Guigues Ave., Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Galerie 240 is located in the market area of downtown Ottawa.  In the birds eye photo you can see a house sandwiched between buildings on the right side of the photo.  Click to view the map.  Galerie 240 is located in a beautiful heritage building constructed around 1870.

 

To find the gallery, turn right on Guigues from Cumberland.  Galerie 240 is at the end of the street near King Edward. 

Gallery Hours - Wednesday to Sunday, Noon to 6 pm.  

Galerie 240 will open outside of regular gallery hours to suit your needs. Galerie 240 will ship worldwide.  You can email Galerie 240 at: brendagalewarner@mac.com  613.680.0866

 

And now back from our commercial break;

FOUR ON THE FLOOR

Lasts week I put four 24” x 24” x 1/2” pre-primed canvases on the floor and began to lay down some black and white undercoating.  That takes several days to dry.  Last evening (Nov. 26) I spread newspaper on the  floor put two of them down ready to paint.  I cleaned my spaghetti sauce paint mixing jars, pulled the acrylic paints and brushes out from storage, and I mixed some paint.  I simply add a coffee mug full of water to the jars and then dip a brush in to the acrylic paint.  The glob of colour that ends up on the brush looks to be about a tablespoon full but I simply eyeball the measurement.  My thought was to make a thin mix of paint so the colour would be pale.  I think this may be a nice contrast to the black.  I can always add some stronger paint later.

 

Below are  some images of the black and white undercoating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first layer of colour has dried as I type and I have put a second layer on one of the two paintings which are in process now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so the painting continues.

I’ll keep you posted. Time-Space is a rather lumpy sort of ‘thing’ flowing at different rates in different places.  You may find the update a paragraph below or in the next posting. LoL

During the past half a handful of weeks I have been writing another song.  It began one cold fall evening when I got the urge to write a tune.  Noticing that it was cold outside I began…,” There’s a chill outside and the wind is blowing cold…” I played around with a chord or three and soon I had a verse.  One verse leads to another and a bad chorus and then a good one and the chopped bad chorus becomes the break.  It was the break all along but I didn’t know it.  Plus it is not that it was ‘bad’ but it was not the hook, the catchy chorus I hoped for.  I’m sharing the lyrics as they are now.

 

 

Borne By Fire – john russell redmond Nov. 2010

There’s a chill outside

And the wind is blowing cold

Frost is spreading

Through the garden once so green

Sun King’s gone to bed

Put another log on the coals

Slide a litter closer

Warm yourself by the fireside

 

We’ll be warm by the fire

We’ll be dreaming in the flickering light

We’ll be glowing in the flames

We are borne by the fire

We are borne by fire

We are born in flame(s)

 

 

Flames are rising

And their warming

The stone cold stone

Fire light, shades and shadows

Through a darkened room

We’re dancing in the flames

Put another log on the coals

Let a dream be gently reeling

In the autumn night

 

We’ll be warm by the fire

We’ll be dreaming in the flickering light

We’ll be glowing in the flames

We are borne by the fire

We are borne by fire

We are born in flame(s)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flame, fire

Flame, through the night

Flame, Fire

Flame, fire cold stone

Flame, fire

Flame, in the heart

 

There’s a chill outside

And the wind is blowing cold

Frost is spreading

Through the garden once so green

Sun King’s gone to bed

Put another log on the coals

Slide a litter closer

Warm yourself by the fireside

 

We’ll be warm by the fire

We’ll be dreaming in the flickering light

We’ll be glowing in the flames

We are borne by the fire

We are borne by fire

We are born in flame(s)

 

We are born in flame(s)

We are born in flame(s)

We are born in flame(s)

 

 

Update;  Argh.  Late at night after a movie I added some paint of various colours to the canvas I have been working on.  In the morning I awoke and it appeared that the colours had mixed and much of the canvas seemed muddied.  I contemplated putting the canvas under the shower and scrubbing  off what colour I could and begin reapplying.  However, I decided to push on and added a bit of red and yellow…we shall see.  I can always rely on the shower.

 

That is all for now.

Silver bells will soon be ringing . . . See you at the 240.

 

ciao,

John Redmond

Ottawa, Canada

 

 

Between The Lines

 

Hello All,

This one is to send a salut and merci beaucoup through Time-Space to a dear one who passed away recently.

 

Lyn is mom to Leigh-Anne and Tom Stanton and is Murray Kinsley’s  mother-in-law.  Murray and Leigh-Anne are our Wicked Grin band friends.

In the days after Lyn died I thought of her and wanted to write a nice song in her memory.  Each life is a story with many lines.  And like all stories there is much to a life that is written between the lines.  We are each far more than we appear to be.  Also, it seems that we are separate when ultimately all lines of division dissolve.  I shall let you read between the lines of my song lyrics below.  Lately I have been singing them often.   Salut Lyn.

 

Between The Lines by john russell redmond

In your eye

There will have been

Sights only dreamed

By such a one as you

Uniquely reading the lines

 

When your eye

Be gently closed

We’ll be dreaming too

Between the lines

A story that you told

 

There’s fine lines running through our mind

There’s a fine line between our worlds

Walking the line

Love that binds

Resolving, dissolving the lines

 

 

Now all the lines

Around our eyes

Straight, cracked, serpentine

When were they drawn

In secret forgotten time

 

There’s fine lines running through our mind

There’s a fine line between our worlds

Walking the line

Love that binds

Resolving, dissolving the lines

 

 

Converging lines

Carved in moments blind

Finger flutings; sign

May we ever really know

The meaning of their code

 

There’s fine lines running through our mind

There’s a fine line between our worlds

Walking the line

Love that binds

Resolving, dissolving the lines

 

 

And while we walk a crooked mile

Moment to moment in reeling time

Maybe there’s a hope and a memory – awake

Between the lines, between the lines

Between the lines, between the lines

 

There’s fine lines running through our mind

There’s a fine line between our worlds

Walking the line

Love that binds

Resolving, dissolving the lines

Between the lines, between the lines

Between the lines, between the lines

Between the lines, between the lines

Between the lines, between the lines . . .

 

This morning, before I began making this posting, I came upon a video posted by a Facebook friend.  I was present when Ralph Stanley sang, ‘Oh Death’ at the Ottawa Bluesfest a few years ago.  It was amazing.  I’m including one of his performances of that song as well as the rendition I found today performed by some young women.

 

The notes attached to the video of Ralph Stanley indicate, “Ralph Stanley, aged 82, singing "O Death" a cappella at the Hills of Home festival near Clintwood VA in May 2008. On the hillside behind him lies the grave of his brother, the great Carter Stanley, as he petitions the grim reaper to spare him over till another year. Raises the hair on your neck!”  Indeed. And even more when heard live.  It is a moment I will not forget.

 

 

 

Here is the version I found posted this morning.

 

The late Joseph Campbell is one of our modern sages.  He shed light on world mythologies and the myths we live by.  Campbell distilled his wisdom to a phrase, “Follow your Bliss'.”  He shared many thoughts about how to live; how to remain in relationship with the well of life.  That man knew how to read between the lines.

“In the wheel of fortune, wisdom points to the center.  Youth points to the rim.” 

We live in a one-dot world.

In the book, "A Joseph Campbell Companion – Reflections on the Art of Living” which is a collection of Campbell’s writings; he points out the need for ‘Sacred Space’.  “A sacred space is any space that is set apart from the usual context of life . . . You really don’t have a sacred space, a rescue land, until you find somewhere to be that’s not a wasteland, some field of and where there is a spring of ambrosia- a joy that comes from inside, not something external that puts joy into you – a place that lets you experience your own will and your own intention and your own wish . . . “ 

Campbell continues; “Sacred space and sacred time and something joyous to do is all we need.  Almost anything then becomes a continuous joy.

What you have to do, you do with play.

I think a good way to conceive of sacred space is as a playground.  If what you’re doing seems like play, you are in it.  But you can’t play with my toys, you have to have our own.  Your life should have yielded some.  Older people play with life experiences and realizations or with thoughts they like to entertain.  In my case, I have books I like to read that don’t lead anywhere.

One great thing  about growing old is that nothing is going to lead to anything.  Everything is of the moment. 

When Jung (Carl) decided to try to discover the myth by which he was living, he asked himself, “What was the game I enjoyed when I was a child?’  His answer was making little towns and streets out of stones.  So, he bought some property and, as a way of playing, began to build a house.  It was a lot of work, utterly unnecessary for he already had a house, but an appropriate way to create sacred space.  It was sheer play.

What did you do as a child that created timelessness, that made you forget time?  There lies the myth to live by.”

“We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”  Campbell’s writings shed light on mythic images of the hero’s journey.  We are the hero.  “Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world.” Our personal sacred space gives us the bliss, in the space where life’s lines dissolve.  “The Hero’s return is the integration and sharing of that bliss.” 

The famous speech attributed to Chief Seatle is quoted by Campbell, “The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors . . . Each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people.  The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s father . . . the wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh . . . The wind also  gives our children the spirit of life . . . All things are connected like the blood which unites us all.  Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it.”

 

Oh Great Provider;  here is a performance by Brent Titcomb.

 

 

One final song thought from myself;

When a flower becomes a seed

Seed becomes the flower’s need

Where you go is where you been

Rustling leaves become the wind

 

Salut Lyn . . . we miss you and we all shine on . . .

 

Sincerely

Your friend,

John Redmond