A good way to start the week

Once again, all those magical beings at Stampington have produced a luscious Somerset Life. From my own magazine work experience, I well know the satisfaction of seeing that first copy come off the press and the pride of a job well done.

I'm lucky to be in this issue too, and I couldn't want a better showcase for my work. Some might call this eye-candy; I call it Dufflet for the Eyes. (For non-Canadians, Dufflet is Toronto's premier pâtissière, whose non-pareil carrot cake I've already featured on this blog.)

My first love

Painting is my first love. Whatever else I discover and do and enjoy, I always go back to painting. I am self-taught: that is, I started with a fervent desire to paint; I studied the masters and their use of light and perspective, among other things; I spent hours in art galleries; I read textbooks; I experimented, I practised, practised, practised, and practised some more. I figured out techniques by trial and error. It took years before I would let my work out before the public. And even then I knew I would have to keep learning. I am still learning.

While working at the bookstore, I was looking through a book on interior design and saw a photograph of a white dress, or it may have been an Edwardian petticoat, hanging on an armoire: more than anything, it was the composition that grabbed my eye. The image stuck in my mind and I knew I wanted to paint it -- not the photograph, but the idea of it, which in my mind became a white, ethereal, almost ghost-like dress floating timelessly in space.

Totally hot....

.... the weather, that is. I've been out more than I've been in, minding the store for a friend, a job not unlike the bookstore, and thinking that my life right now is something of an adventure. That's what happens when you stay open to possibilities.

I'll be back with a weekend update. Meanwhile, the birds say hello-tweet!

[Paintings are available on eBay]

Going with the flow

Set of 4 paintings available in my Etsy shop

I'm having a lot of fun with my growing bird population. Each one has a name and will have a couple of descriptive sentences. When I was a child, I often lived in my imagination because it was a far better place than the actual world around me. Books helped me do that, and so did nature where I had my secret little areas where I took refuge (and where I made up stories in my head).

To this day I cannot do without reading, and I still love wild, tangled gardens.

Summer

As if on cue, the hot temperatures are here. Meanwhile, in the cool, leafy countryside of my imagination, the birds are living their colorful lives.

This is one of them: the White-spotted Boulevardier.

Available at my blogshop.

The antidote

One of the rewards and great joys of my work is the feedback I get. The person who bought my bird book, a collaged and painted book of some 20 collages, a collector and friend (and, I should add, one of my customers who keeps me afloat, otherwise I truly would be "starving"!!) wrote me a note that included this: "Thank you enormously for the bird artist's book. ... The collection is very special. Your expression of bird art is so enjoyable because it has warmth and frankness, lot of love (without being overly cute). Rather realist. I am cheered when I look at such creativity and it helps pull me out of whatever low state I feel."

And that is always my goal. Not just to make my living, but to make others happy with my work!

Thank you Dr. T. in Sydney. You truly made my day, my week, my month.............

Say what?

I'm still wondering about something I heard on BBC News last night, with regard to the Elgin Marbles (or Parthenon Marbles). Greece now has a new museum to house them, but the British Museum is refusing to return them to their rightful home. That was the story on BBC.

However, what stunned me was that the British Museum's spokeswoman, an American (?) with no other affiliation given except "spokeswoman", said something along the lines of: "The marbles should stay in England. [in ancient Greece] they were placed looking out to sea, so it was a way of saying that these sculptures should go out into the world across the sea......."

That was it. The end of the report. No other comment on the story.

Call me gobsmacked. Now, I'm not debating the Elgin Marble controversy here, just the unbelievable "reason" given for keeping the marbles in England. So does this mean if something is sitting on a coastline looking out to sea, anyone can sail by and grab it? If I had to give an award for the craziest statement of the week, that would win hands-down.

Love in the Time of Cholesterol

Love in the Time of Cholesterol

(with apologies to Gabriel García Márquez)

I can only look and remember the taste........

I took this photo this morning at the Manulife. More photos to come.

Dinner at 8

Pour some olive oil into a saucepan. When the oil gets hot, throw in a handful of roughly chopped onions and a couple of garlic cloves, also chopped, and fry until transluscent and fragrant.

Empty a can of undrained black beans into the oil. Add herbs (I throw in whatever I have because I love herbs: thyme, coriander, mint, oregano, basil, a couple of bay leaves, like that). Season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Stir and simmer until the stew is heated through. Add a dash of lemon juice and some avocado before serving.

It gets even better if left overnight.

Makes two servings.

Note: I have no measurements because I threw it all together. Use your good judgment!

You look, but do you see?

Most of what we think is invisible really isn't. It's right there under our noses. A lot of seeing is a choice. We choose to see or not see. Or we go through life distracted. Or both. Seeing beyond the obvious can be painful, but it can also free you. I've never ignored pain, physical or psychical. If something is wrong physically, I go and have it looked at straightaway, get if fixed, get it over with. The same with emotional pain. I've dealt with it head on, albeit sometimes envying people who can can go into a state of denial and not feel anything.

A friend asked me recently: "Will it ever get better?"

I said: "Yes. But not today or tomorrow, or next month. It will be gradual, but if you stay with it, you'll have short-term pain and it will eventually go away. If you don't, you'll continue feeling the pain indefinitely." Her vision is getting sharper.

Another friend has finally woken up to her the way she's been living her life and why things keep going wrong. Both these friends call on me to talk things out. I tell them I'm not a therapist, but I share what I've learned with them. They tell me I clarify things for them, and that is its own reward. In a sense, my experiences haven't just strengthened me, but also given me the knowledge and tools to help others. The trick is to be detached so that you don't get swallowed up by other people's emotions.

Can you see the "invisible" in the photo of my painting?

R.I.P. Shadow

My doggie friend in Santa Barbara shuffled off her mortal coil on June 8. I spent only a week with Shadow, but loved her like an old friend. At the top is a mixed media piece I made of her about two years ago. She will be sorely missed by her Santa Barbara family and me.

In the beginning

My artistic life began with a simple box of watercolors. I was strictly a writer/editor at the time, and painting became a wonderful outlet for me. It didn't translate into magazine work until I was hired to write a monthly food column. The art that accompanied my column was so out of line with the text that I was mystified. After the third or fourth month, the artwork was clearly repetitive and said nothing for my writing, so I went to the editor and told him I could provide the artwork with the text as a package; it would save him money and make the column more attractive. He agreed.
My first illustration was for a piece I wrote on eggplants. The staff loved it, and some of them began to look forward more to the illustration than the text. I'm always mindful that if I hadn't asked, I may never have gottten the job. Speak up! What's the worst that can happen? They say, no thanks, and you try somewhere else....

And bread....

And Biscuits Lu for their P.R. company


And peppermills for the Compleat Kitchen

Bon appétit!

Saturday at the bookstore

I opened the bookstore this morning, and managed to hit wrong buttons on the cash register, whereupon it got stuck. I did not lose my cool, however. I made change from my purse and sorted it out after the customer left. Later, the boss said it was bound to happen. This is how you learn. (That, and he forgot to leave the cellphone behind so I couldn't call and ask him what to do.)

The theme of the day was languages. My friend the historian dropped by with an espresso so he was a witness to all this. First, a dapper old gentleman came in sheperding an excited wee boy, followed by a young woman. I took them to be mother, son and grandpa. Grandpa amonished his grandchild to slow down... in Greek. From the bits of conversation I overheard, I understood that his English was almost non-existent and I imagined he was visiting from Greece, but his daughter and her son were born and raised here: he spoke Greek to them, they answered in English. They brought their books to the cash desk and this is what transpired: Grandpa asked his daughter questions in Greek and I answered back in Greek. She gave me a huge smile, he didn't bat an eyelid. They all said goodbye and left.

Next, a Frenchwoman d'un certain age, came for some information on French books: Did we have any, especially as the Librairie Champlain had closed down. Non, Madame, said I, we don't have French books unfortunately. Her English, though very heavily accented, was fluent, but I feel like a fraud if I don't switch to French. She didn't bat an eyelid, either.

My friend observed all this, and was amused that the Greek gentleman hadn't batted an eyelid, but regarding the French lady, he said: This is Canada. We're supposed to be bilingual. Nothing unusual there.

[Yeah, try being bilingual in Ontario. I tested it at All the Fine Foods the other day; took my Prince of Darkness coffee beans to the cash and, because you have to tell them which beans you've filled your bag with, I said "Le prince des ténèbres." He gave me a startled look. I waited. "Uh, I think that's French, but I don't really speak it," he said. I explained. He made no further comment. Probably thought I was strange, like the judge who said to me, But, Madame Copeland, why do you insist on doing this in French? I know your English is perfect, I read your article on Barbados in Leisureways magazine. To which I answered, in French, Because it is my federal right and this is a solemn occasion. But I digress.............]

Since things happen in threes, at least in my life, the third language was Spanish. This was a challenge because the customer's English was very sparse, she being a new arrival in this country. I'm sure she was highly amused by my efforts. I did my best, but 4 out of 5 words that came out of my mouth were Italian. Still and all, we understood each other, and that's the important thing: Communication!

Day of the giveaway

And the winner is.... Shirley in Florida.

Thank you to all for participating. Have a glorious weekend.

Herbal dreams

A bag of herbs hanging from the garland of golden pears on the wall above my bed helps me dream.

Chives are only on paper at the moment.

And... my lemon balm is about to be re-potted so it can flourish in a larger space.

Radishes

[photo: my flamenco shoes]

Embedded in the comments section of my previous post with the radish is a poem about a radish from Tim Irving, a fabulous artist and photographer who lives in Andalucia, where the fiesta season has begun. I wanted to share the poem with you. May you be as delighted as I am with it. Do visit Tim's blog -- you will love it. Thank you, Tim!

Radish

by Karla Kushkin

Write about a radish

Too many people write about the moon.

The night is black

The stars are small and high

The clock unwinds its ever-ticking tune

Hills gleam dimly

Distant nighthawks cry.

A radish rises in the waiting sky.

Food art

Once upon a time I wrote a food column that I also illustrated, for five years. Every so often I get nostalgic for my foodie days, so I go back to the kitchen of my imagination. I painted one last night but couldn't stop. When I finished the sixth one, I forced myself to stop because it was 2 a.m.

Weekend update

[detail of collage available here ]

I called an old friend who lives in the neighborhood and told him I'd be in the bookstore for a few hours yesterday, and to drop in if he was passing by. He came bearing coffee, mine being a watery espresso from Second Cup (they have no idea how to make it...for shame!) but welcome nevertheless.

As we were chatting, an elderly man came to the cash desk with a book on D-Day. He would have been in his 80s, trim and strong-looking.

"I was flying aircraft on this day," the gentleman said, a RCAF veteran. Then he turned to my friend. "You sound English," he said.

"Scottish," corrected my friend.

"Highly refined Scottish," I chimed in, to explain why he didn't sound so obvious, although his mother was part Sassenach.

"I'm Scottish Canadian," the former RCAF pilot said, looking and sounding quite pleased.

"He's also a historian," I said. "U of T PhD and all." (I should know, I typed his dissertation)

A discussion of D-Day ensued, and I let the Celts at it.

For all our dead in the Second World War, I was very pleased to see a live one!

Friday's child

I'm sipping a cup of lemon balm tea to help me get to sleep earlier tonight. I'm opening the bookstore tomorrow morning, so I can't be doing my normal night owl thing -- after midnight is when I work best. Don't ask me why. It's probably a habit that can be broken.

I closed the store last week, so in the morning I'll just do everything backwards. C'est logique!

Meanwhile I have some new pieces listed on eBay.

I did make this bag today. Lined and everything!! Martha would be proud of me -- hehe!

Have a really, really good weekend!

1,101 posts

According to my dashboard, this is my 1,101st post. It calls for a blog giveaway. Not to be mysterious, but I haven't decided on the item yet, so if you trust me, do leave a comment, making sure that I can contact you if you're the winner. The draw will be on Friday, June 12.

My lemon balm plant, the first of my little herb garden for my balcony. I use it in salads, along with other fresh herbs, and it's also a good sleep promoter. I just hope the birds don't like it too...

Tea for Three

My friend Martha and her friend and creation, Miss Bunny, came over this afternoon for tea and Dufflet with me. We always have a good time. Martha is one of those people who can make anything -- anything! and do it well.

Of rain and book buyers

[detail of collage (c) colette copeland]

We're having far too much rain. Really. Not that I mind that much, but it gives me headaches.

But life goes on regardless. Yesterday I worked the late shift at the bookstore; it was my first time to close (a zillion things to be done, in the right order, before I lock the doors and go home). We got a rush of customers in the last hour, so I stayed open an hour longer.

I found the people very interesting: there was the regular customer who came in to ask what time I was closing and said he had to go to Tim Hortons first because he was hungry (he came back, just as he said, and bought a couple of books).

The woman who was going through every section in the store when her husband called out to her in very annoyed tones that he wanted to go already, and she told him she wanted 10 more minutes. He flounced off, and half-an-hour later she was still there. I began to worry for her. When she brought her books to the cash desk, I worked briskly but she told me there was no rush!

Then there was the woman who challenged me: On the wall is a huge sign that says if there is no sticker on the book, the price is half the publisher's retail price. She pointed to it and said, "The printed price is $26.95, she said, but the sticker on the book says $14.99. That's false advertising. I want 50% off." I turned around and read the sign out loud. "But the books you want do have stickers on them..." I pointed out. She faltered. "Do you still want to go ahead?" I asked. "Yes, but I'm not sure about that sign."

And the little old couple who warmed my heart. The radio was playing big band music and in they walked, while the husband sang to the Glenn Miller song that was playing. I don't know about his taste though: he bought a set of 5 Benny Hill DVDs......... haha!