THREE THINGS Issue 10
THING ONE
Sharing a personal story from my childhood seems fitting as we commemorate the birthday of A.Y. Jackson, founding member of Canada's Group of Seven. Alexander Young Jackson lived October 3, 1882 – April 5, 1974.
AY Jackson, Red Maple, 1914
My grandma was an artist and taught me a few things about art. At a tender age, she took me to the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, ON to see the works of the Group of Seven. I had the opportunity to meet Mr. A.Y. Jackson that day who was on display along with the artwork. It certainly seemed that way to me as a child anyways, since he sat on a big chair and we had to wait in line to meet him. I had a program in hand and my grandma wanted me to have him sign it. I remember not being keen on the suggestion, however, in the end I reluctantly asked, not realizing my good fortune until many years later. I still have that brochure with an important Canadian old man’s ink scrawled across the top.
The Group of Seven was an amazing band of artists in the early 1900s that were brave enough to pioneer a new style of art. They resisted the more traditional, European approach of the day and committed themselves to paint Canada’s rugged landscape in their own way.
Through the years my grandma offered her own art appreciation course to us grandkids and I for one (and maybe another cousin or two) am grateful. One particular summer day this spunky granny and her artist friend set up their paintings right there on her front lawn and called themselves “The Group of Two”! Am I lucky or what?!
Although I’m late coming to art as a career, I still feel the influence of both my artsy grandma and this incredible crew of seven trailblazers and appreciate their collective tenacity to carve a new path for themselves. I’d like to be that brave.
Lawren Harris, "Autumn Algoma", 1920 JEH MacDonald, "Falls, Montreal River", 1920
THING TWO
Always worth repeating at this time of year is Anne Shirley’s brilliant quote (from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maude Montgomery).
“Oh, Marilla,” she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, “I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches”.
THING THREE
My “A is for Apple” painting and story have a very autumn theme (even though it mentions August) so I thought I would share it here for October.
In late August, the appearance of apples beginning to come of age is an amazing sight. On an agreeable, autumn afternoon, my adorable grandson and I planned a trek to a local apple farm. Even though the affectionate lad thinks of me as ancient he was game for the adventure and off we went.
Upon our arrival, we approached the entrance where my alert four-year-old ankle-biter was actively making his way towards the acreage. On ahead we went, scanning for above-average apples.
The ambitious farmer had an astonishing assortment of varieties. How would we agree which apples to accept from the artistic array before us? Anticipating our awkward decision, the attentive agriculturalist handed out samples to assist us. We were appreciative and avidly ate many.
Appeased and absolutely content we acquired an acceptable amount of apples and set out for our respective abodes. The awesome outing captured the angelic boy’s attention and we spent the allotment of time to arrive home making an action plan for baking. An arrangement was made and applesauce, apple crisp, and apple pie were accomplished at the appointed time. Such a lovely afternoon with an appetizing outcome.
(In case you're curious but don't want to count, there are 77 "A" words in the story )
Happy Autumn everyone
Glenna