Stolen Moments #2: Giving Thanks in Canadian

Once again that electric time of year comes around when the Canadian farmers are pulling the last crops off the land before the first frosts. The tradition of gathering around the family table with more than one generation of family members and perhaps a few friendly stragglers either local or foreign is quite a natural type of happening. Turkey, salmon or chicken might be served although homemade chili or a baked ham have had their glory. The meal draped with all the fixins including cranberry sauce, pickles and finishing with a table checkered with apple, berry or pumpkin pies pretty much sums up a typical Canadian Thanksgiving Memory in my mind. Once again I am not in Canada for THE celebration. I am in France modifying the traditional ways to encompas my own lifestyle but truely aching to be home. The following watercolours of Canadian landscape have been included to pay tribute to this land; I may not get home as often as I want or need to but my heart has never left.

One of the sweetest things my family ever did was to move over to Vancouver Island. It not only allows us to recapture our reunions around the lake setting but it allows me to capture precious stolen moments in watercolour on the familiar ferry crossing.

My last time to Canada was a very moving one. I was on a mission to see my Grandma while she was very sick. The day she actually was temporarily feeling better I celebrated by painting the view of the North Shore mountain range from the hospital sitting room. Now the paintings are all that is left of that charged moment in time. Oh Thank You Canada!

Stolen Moments - Instants Ravis: Series #1

The leaves are starting to curl their edges and the colour is bleeding out of them. It is that time of the year we Canadians call Indian Summer. In memory of the warm season behind us I have posted a few impressions in watercolour. Fleeting moments captured whilst stopping for a cappu in Italy; a noisette in Normandy, a cafe au lait in the Ardeche. Keeping in mind the time is ticking, kilometers must be driven, others are standing by patiently as I play with the light and the landscape that I discover on a cross France journey in August.



Bussana Vecchia is the village which allows one to have such a magnificent view of the Italian Riviera

Between moments of rain showers and gentle winds followed by brilliant sunlight, the rainbow of filtered greens is breath taking in and near Belleme.

Only the steeples of the castles can be seen from a safe distance near Chatel-guyon, but next time...Penetration



Lavilledieu = Thevillageofgod

2 days before the closing

The heat is on as Nice enters the pinnacle of her heat wave. However it has not put a damper on my enthusiasm to come down to the gallery and spend my afternoons, working on the wheel, or chatting to people as they come by. These past 4 weeks have been a rewarding experience for me. I thank all the people that stopped by both the gallery or the blog. In some ways you have shared this experience with me and I can not thank you enough for your support. I hope to continue this idea of process in the near future but for now I will head back up to Vence and open the windows of my studio where I will look out to the Col de Vence. That arid looking landscape we call the foothills of the magestic Alpes has unveiled a fossil or two over the past few million years. And as I set up the building blocks in the structure of my mind for the next thoughts in progress, I Thank you for the collaboration Bonnie, Rendez vous in New York for the sequel.... millions of years of kisses

Pink & Blue Womb-men

The idea of pots that speak up
And Clay—
--Clay for god's sake—
Voluptuous females,
Womb- men crafted by male egos,
Such good sized jugs,
Inflatable bedroom fantasies made by the hundreds
For desperate husbands
twenty-five centuries ago...
Throw the clay in the center
Build the pillar
Build the fire
Raise the shape of the hips higher and higher
A hole in the center
Where the grains and oils, and wine spirits and beans
And her brains and my fingers can enter. How she wobbles.
Spin her round and round
Til she squeaks and hollers
"faster, faster"._
Squeaky sounds around the village as the big wheels revolved,
whirling dervishes
spinning pots
eyeing their neighbors
spinning pots
comparing notes
with the competition
revving their engine;
Going no where FAST
but hours rehearsing
sitting, potting,
speed up, slow down
not doing anything.
Greater vessel, lesser vessel,
Women with jugs and jug handles,
And women without,
Sex pots, smudge pots, honey pots;
Everyone master at his art
None admitted clumsiness on his part.
"Kissing My Ancestors"pg 10 BB Smith

Gossan Treasures

Oh, picture them facing each other
Trying to get the fire started
Working together with their hands
On the flame at the altar.
And the leaping flame at the heart!
The dinner pot is ruined.

There's beans an inch thick on the bottom.
The cooking gods are to blame
In this nonsense of loving.
But by then_
That is when.
And it's back to circle one.
Spin the wheel.
"Kissing My Ancestors" pg8 @ BB Smith

Pitching Woo

"my nose wanders
The magnificent valleys and hills of your face-—
Your soft and warm cheeks,
are not cheeks as cold as gold or base metal.
A token. There. Placed On the lip.
Just one token yum
-an extraordinary yum-
Oh Daughter of Ishtar
Vessel of my affections
Your lip tastes like plums.
Yum yum yum
I need to etch you, sketch you,
Drink you up, drink you down,
babble in Babylonian,
say it in cuneiform...
Ah,hah! This wine tasting takes time.
Go girl, carve my flesh.
Just the sex".
And from continuous "filling and emptying the red vase in her belly",
Ordering more magic to come from it,
Like Jesus at the Wedding,
Vases of blood
Turn into vessels of wine
And men are on the march along tombwalls
with their vessels full of wine, women and song.
"Kissing My Ancestors"pg 6 BB Smith

The Kiss

Kissing is another thing.
The authors of Gilgamesh
-an epic, no less-
sang no songs of kissing;
No
"Like wine, you taste, Oh, Ishtar's Daughter, goddess of love, Shamut...
You are a vessel
Let me drink at your lip.
Let me drink at both lips.
Ah yes."
-(Kisskisskiss kisskisskiss)--
"Kissing My Ancestors"pg 6@ BB Smith

Kissing My Ancestors @B B Smith pg 4

The "Nuclear Family" Stations

The shape and form of these two large pieces is one that has been present in my mind for many years now. A few months before I arrived in France, in 1986, the nuclear station in Chernobil, Russia erupted. That experience left me with an omimous feeling every time we drove by those powerful looking stations perched in the rolling French landscape. It is a structure which has feminine curves and yet the stature of a man. For me it started to create a curiosity as I began to make analogies of the nuclear station and the power it produces in France with the nuclear family and its amazing power; a power which is always referred to as the family nucleus ; this strength and danger often neglected in the global sense.
One piece is called “The Feman”. This image has been adapted from a previous “Messenger of Life” symbol. It refers to the sensual structure a woman has within herself to generate the power within the family. It is often undervalued in some cultures or highly recognized in others. Without constant nuturing of this element the family will either explode or the flame will weaken but it can never be extinguished. The other piece has the image of a folklore pattern found in Russian bead work in the 17OO’s. I chose a simplified rendition to represent “The Eternal Family Flame”
The pieces were thrown in cylinders of 3 kilos and then assembled, polished and carved. They were painted with slips and fired at 1150°C to make them strong enough for the exterior. The ruggedness and damaged imperfections are a natural evolution of the drying and firing process. In the end I imagine them overflowing with Capuccines or geraniums and tucked away in the leafy shade of the home garden...

Messenger of Life

The « Messenger of Life » Doll Series

In 2002 while living in New York state I made two series of Russian dolls ranging from 4 - 20 “ high. The pieces were thrown in two parts and then hand built to fit inside each other. They were hand polished at the greenware stage and then carved with a design which evolved from a personalized version of the folk art found in the region where my family originated.
The Lobe family has its beginning in Russia in the mid 1700’s. The family dispersed and imigrated : to Poland, Germany & the U.S.A. In the late 1800’s, my Great Grand Father moved his family to North Dakota to farm the land. After a terrible fire on the homestead and the flu epidemic of 1916, he moved the family including my Grand Father and his 8 brothers and sisters to northern Saskatchewan, Canada by horse drawn covered wagon. The farm animals followed. My father was born in Saskatchewan, Canada as were my sisters and I. My parents later moved our family to British Columbia, Canada I was the first generation to move back to Europe. My first daughter was born in France and my second daughter was born in New York. My family had come full circle.
As I made the dolls I researched on the patterns, designs and common motifs that carry through most first nations peoples. I used a slip method of engobes similar to my Bella Coola Sun Family platter. After a bisque fire the pieces were fired in individual saggars filled with sawdust. Upon removal, they were polished with wax to bring out the variations and the luster of the reduced carbon affect. The final image is referred to as the “ Messenger of Life”. Each doll represents one generation of the family with the colors and sizes making the distinction. The message originally intended was to imagine that each of us carries our history within us.

The Three Canadian Sisters

A little history of the totem:
The lower third is a representation of me and my life. I chose to be
represented by the white Northern Jack fish swimming low at the
bottom of the lakes but winding through
greenery and drift wood, in other words drifting through known and
unknown waters. The mountains and sky are just above.

On the second level and middle level is Susan represented by a white
wolf running in the harvest moon light. Sometimes it looks like the
she wolf is chasing her tail but it is the
force and the determination that I wanted to portray.

The head on portrait of a polar bear and paw is found in the top
third and it represents Alison. She is the most traditional likes to
keep order. But the bear is happy and its mouth
could be the opening through which the birth process takes place. In
the potlatch houses the door of the building was often the mouth of
an animal.

The piece is pulled together by a fourth piece which secures on the
top like a plug. It was made of 4 vessels and each one was cut out
of the original form and pieced together to
create a hocker. The hocker is the oldest form of a man represented
object ( I call it a feman) It is found in just about all first
nations peoples although it is carved and embelished
differently in each case. In this case my feman hocker is the
guiding force of the 3 sisters. She has a sunflower/ or brown eyed
susan on the one side or it could look like a feather
head dress from the other. The face is smooth and ageless as all
mother figures should be.

Now each section is a vessel thrown and carved in its own right and
the final totem does not work without all the sections. So each
piece becomes equal which is very important
to insist on in a family heirarchy of femen.

Dancing Rituals

Just when
did humans first begin
to feel like humans
with an identity
to love-making-
making love come
spinning out of the mud
and the elements
of two shadows dancing and weaving,

And in love-making
possessing the object
of their desire
by molding clay
by carving stone

out of the fire.
That is,
When did two stand apart
want to pursue
their own pleasure path
and call passion a union.
When did love-making become making love
and making love
become making art?
"Kissing My Ancestors"@BB Smith pg 8

Ying and Yang of Lips

Hexagram twenty-one
Is an open mouth with an obstruction.
The yang lines on top and bottom are lips.
The yin lines all resemble teeth.
"Kissing My Ancestors"@ BB Smith Pg 4

Fireworks

...This time on the gasping mouth
that opens to breathe out.
Then digging heels in
under animal skins
for the fireworks;
noses buried to the ears with climaxes
noses buried in mud and grasses.
"A joyful accident" He-Man Neanderthal grins and apologizes. "Kissing My Ancestors" @ BB Smith p. 3

The Time Line

...So when did kissing start.
When did humans first use their lips
and not use them like the deer and the sheep.
We know our ancestors
been doing this and that;
writing poetry
making pottery
their art...

Kissing My Ancestors, @BB Smith p.2

In the aftermath of developing a relationship with one's public...

To create work from the center of one's most inner being and then share that private seed of discovery is a very enlightening and challenging experience. As the people strolled into the gallery throughout the evening I was forever looking at the work through their eyes. What do they see? Can they feel the balance, happiness, tension and energy? Do they need my presence to make it work for them or does the work hold its own conversation. Will they find it too complicated? Too simple or basically not captivating? As the numbers of visitors intensified and the reflections were communicated back to me I was humbled to hear exciting responses and positive feedback that collected like drops of rain water in the lid of a barrel. Yes, it was a precious moment of exaltation that lasted all the while the flame of the kiss was lit. The seed has been sown... I ache to begin again.

Happy Birthday Canada!

As the day unfolds and all the t's have been crossed, today is not just another day. Some pretty cool things are taking place. Today Canada is a year older and a year wiser. And even though I live very far away, I can see that little red and white flag flying with pride. For me it stands for love, understanding and belonging. That carefully woven fabric we call our land is a symbol of beauty, bounty and pride. It makes me feel closer to my friends, my family and some of those Canadians who have become household names in the advertising section of our bilingual cereal boxes: KD Lang, Douglas Coupland, Neil Young, Terry Fox, Grandma Jean. Tonight the Studio Gallery Raspail will open its doors and some of my work will finally be seen. When all is said and done (and I mean literally, wet glue done!) the exhibition is a natural evolution to the next step. The idea of saying something through one's work and passion to clear the air so that the new ideas can take root... and grow. Today not everyone will be in front of their TV watching the kick off between Brazil and France in the World Cup soccer match! My Aunt from Brackendale, B.C. will be waking up from a groggy sleep in much pain. She will have survived her first bout of surgery against breast cancer. So when the flame of the kiss is lit tonight at the opening, and the pillars of feman strength stand side by side I will be thinking of her and her courage towards the next step. Oh! Canada!

Culinary utensil delights

As the days unfold, so will the understanding of this exhibition. Throughout the poem "Kissing My Ancestors" reference has been made to cooking whether it be nurturing of the stomach, the senses or the heart. So a few objects have been identified to represent a possible liaison between the present and the past...

Aladdin's T- Pot has a slight twist in that it proudly carries the genie in the writing found on it. The cooking pots show much wear and tear as the food is left over the fire while the love potions brew. But does the Flying Bean Pot actually Fly......

TeaThyme anyone? A tea ball with flavour smoked in the fire.

2 days before the opening

As the days shorten down to hours and the lists reduce down to crossed off parallel lines, the feeling of putting the work out there is painfully similar to taking that first step off a cliff into glacier water, or writing a dictée, or getting up in front of a group of people who have no idea what you are all about. It is scary and daunting but there is also an excitement that this time there is something to be said and hopefully a new way of saying it....

Introducing the Poet, BB Smith

Here's a chatty bio:
BB Smith B.A. New York University, MST Pace University, Celta Certificate, University of Cambridge, UK. Poetry and essays have appeared in Literary Magazines and Anthologies. Author of TINKERBELLE AND THE TAXI POEMS(published in part) and currently working on two poetry manuscripts: PLUMBING IN THE MIDDLE AGES and POEMS NOIR:  DRIVING IN THE DARK AS THE LAST LATE NIGHT POET.
I have written a number of short stories, a screenplay (BABE IN THE LAND OF WAHOOS), a one-act drama, TALE FROM THE FRONT (SEAT), and am currently working on a short story/drama: STRAWBERRY 'N DRIFTER. I am also doing research on an unknown but extremely gifted and reclusive 19th century American poet who is contemporary with the hermit, Emily Dickinson, and lived only twenty miles away. I am convinced they knew each other..From the research will come a book or a dramatic piece.
 
I've been a  producer of  video documentaries and a  TV Talk Host of  a Psychic New Age show, THE ENCHANTED CANDLE which aired in Westchester and New York. Currently I drive buses, short and long distances, to satisfy my yearing for the open road. This is one of the few ways I can assimilate the fact that I have to work for a living, with a  bit of my creative talent: working at night frees the the mind to hear lines of song and verse and allows the mind to wander, a privilidge few artists have these days.
 
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How "Kissing My Ancestors" came about:
Because we are preoccupied with sex here in America, I decided to address the issue. The Poem searches through the millenia for the origins of art and for that fanciful moment when humans first began kissing. As I was writing, it made me wonder if there will ever be an archaeological dig that unearths pots and tablets telling risque tales like these, or perhaps makes the discovery of a cave full of amusing pornographic verse.
 

Kissing My Ancestors exhibition