Monday, March 28, 2016

Toko Shinoda Puts a Fever in Me


Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve
Manitoulin Island - Ontario

Where I dwell, the Sky is high and wide,
the Wind Sings,
Grasses dance
and wild Horses toss their manes.

It is all ONE,
endlessly creative
and I ache to have others feel
this LOVE. 
               --L. Gerard

Flight - Toko Shinoda
Image courtesy of The Tolman Collection Tokyo



World renown Japanese artist, Toko Shinoda celebrates her 103rd birthday today. Her work and astonishingly long, productive life have touched beholders deeply for many years.   

Toko Shinoda's calligraphy and paintings (a recent, delightful discovery for me) and their applied Abstract Expressionism have altered my perception in a meaningful way.

Out of print book on Shinoda's work can be read online here:



Earlier this month, like a sudden illness, or a psychoactive drug, viewing Ms. Shinoda's work gave me an enervating fever.  This peculiar ailment has catalyzed a devoted undertaking of refining my traditional means of creative expression - not a facile pursuit!  (And something I have little  choice in...compelled as I am to follow these urgings.)

As I explore this artistic refinement, hoping to take flight - but, instead, stumbling - I bemoan my ineptitude and question the the efficacy of such an endeavour.  Yet the fever won't let me rest...


Sorraia filly in flight
Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve


...for there, behind closed eyelids, enhanced phosphenic images offer themselves as proxies for the sensations (depth-of-feeling, love) which the horses and elementals of the wilderness environment we share provoke in me.


Sorraia stallion, tossing his mane
Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve

What a challenge to recount these emotive sensations through painting, poetry and calligraphy!  Yes, it's true I have made my living off those beloved "three perfections" (my own Westernized way) since my early twenties, all along striving to bring forth images that have moved me which, in turn, hopefully move others.  Now, however, I find I am obsessed with recapitulating the sensory resonance of that which moves me more than the static representational form itself.  


  
Sandhill Cranes over Ravenseyrie


You see, for me, these past few years it comes to be that every element in my world touches me like a poem, synesthetically entwining me with all that is.  It is no longer simply the visual pleasure of seeing a grullo Sorraia stallion tossing his bi-coloured mane that I take within, but a realization that there is also his freeness, the warmth of the sun, the buzzing of winged insects, the shadow of crane wings overhead, the caress of the breeze and the quality of my state of being - all these are contributing factors to the emotive sensation felt.  The fevered mind believes I can encapsulate all of this within a few meaningful strokes...Hah!  Crazy, ague!  What one finds is that the sumi and the paper and the water and the overall biorhythms of the day have their ever-changing say in this endeavour, too!  Can you imagine how many clumsily rendered versions of that "poem" I've painted?  Typically I fail to use my brush lyrically or I fall back into representational painting.   But I do not wallow (too long) in my shortcomings, for the work of Toko Shinoda, demonstrates that it is possible.  This inispires me to keep striving. 


Toko Shinoda (Japanese, b. 1913) Unknown Forms, 1968, Size: 22.25″ x 18″, 57 x 46 cm (irregular sheet); 27.25″ x 23″, 69 x 58 cm (frame).
photo courtesy of Stephen Brockelman



Even now, in advanced age, Ms. Shinoda continues to paint and write with results that are as empowered as they were in the beginning of her career.  What Toko Shinoda can convey with minimal, exquisitely elegant strokes of her brush takes my breath away.  What a gift to the world her works are!  I rarely burn with the desire to paint...writing, yes, but painting has always rather frightened me.  However, Toko Shinoda has put a fever in me, and (to use her words) "all I can do now is to single-mindedly rub down a sumi ink stick"... 


The Ravenseyrie inkstone retrieved
from the North Channel shore line


To thank the Lady Shinoda (and wish her a Happy 103rd Birthday) I prepared a letter from which this journal entry has been developed.  I have enclosed this letter in a card made especially for her, a token of my tremendous respect and gratitude.  Monday is a federal holiday here, but on Tuesday, I will place my offering in the hands of Canada Post and trust one day, soon, Ms. Shinoda will learn what an influence her life and work are having on a woman on an island in northern Ontario.  




handmade card interior for Toko Shinoda
by Lynne Gerard
Ravenseyrie Studio & Art Gallery




Within today's Journal of Ravenseyrie entry, for your enjoyment I include a reprint of an article Time magazine did on Toko Shinoda which I found on the Glen Green Galleries website.  It is an excellently written piece, make some tea or pour some wine and have yourself a read.  After that, why not spend some time viewing Ms. Shinoda's images in the many links provided below?  If you are "not into" abstract art, take a moment or two to set aside figurative realism and let the overall effect of Toko Shinoda's creations show you a different way of seeing/feeling.  It would give me great joy to know you, too, have been moved by this type of expressive beauty - such things make the world a better place.



Works of a Woman's Hand
--by Paul Gray
Time Magazine, August 1, 1983

Toko Shinoda bases new abstractions on ancient calligraphy

Down a winding side street in the Aoyama district, western Tokyo. into a chunky white apartment building, then up in an elevator small enough to make a handful of Western passengers friends or enemies for life. At the end of a hall on the fourth floor, to the right, stands a plain brown door. To be admitted is to go through the looking glass. Sayonara today. Hello (Konichiwa) yesterday and tomorrow.

Toko Shinoda, 70, lives and works here. She can be, when she chooses, on e of Japans foremost calligraphers, master of an intricate manner of writing that traces its lines back some 3,000 years to ancient China. She is also an avant-garde artist of international renown, whose abstract paintings and lithographs rest in museums around the world. These diverse talents do not seem to belong in the same epoch. Yet they have somehow converged in this diminutive woman who appears in her tiny foyer, offering slippers and ritual bows of greeting.
She looks like someone too proper to chip a teacup, never mind revolutionize an old and hallowed art form She wears a blue and white kimono of her own design. Its patterns, she explains, are from Edo, meaning the period of the Tokugawa shoguns, before her city was renamed Tokyo in 1868. Her black hair is pulled back from her face, which is virtually free of lines and wrinkles. except for the gold-rimmed spectacles perched low on her nose (this visionary is apparently nearsighted). Shinoda could have stepped directly from a 19th century Meji print.

Her surroundings convey a similar sense of old aesthetics, a retreat in the midst of a modern, frenetic city. The noise of the heavy traffic on a nearby elevated highway sounds at this height like distant surf. delicate bamboo shades filter the daylight. The color arrangement is restful: low ceilings of exposed wood, off-white walls, pastel rugs of blue, green and gray.
It all feels so quintessentially Japanese that Shinoda’s opening remarks come as a surprise. She points out (through a translator) that she was not born in Japan at all but in Darien, Manchuria. Her father had been posted there to manage a tobacco company under the aegis of the occupying Japanese forces, which seized the region from Russia in 1905. She says,”People born in foreign places are very free in their thinking, not restricted” But since her family went back to Japan in 1915, when she was two, she could hardly remember much about a liberated childhood? She answers,”I think that if my mother had remained in Japan, she would have been an ordinary Japanese housewife. Going to Manchuria, she was able to assert her own personality, and that left its mark on me.”

Evidently so. She wears her obi low on the hips, masculine style. The Porcelain aloofness she displays in photographs shatters in person. Her speech is forceful, her expression animated and her laugh both throaty and infectious. The hand she brings to her mouth to cover her amusement (a traditional female gesture of modesty) does not stand a chance.

Her father also made a strong impression on the fifth of his seven children:”He came from a very old family, and he was quite strict in some ways and quite liberal in others.” He owned one of the first three bicycles ever imported to Japan and tinkered with it constantly He also decided that his little daughter would undergo rigorous training in a procrustean antiquity.

“I was forced to study from age six on to learn calligraphy,” Shinoda says, The young girl dutifully memorized and copied the accepted models. In one sense, her father had pushed her in a promising direction, one of the few professional fields in Japan open to females. Included among the ancient terms that had evolved around calligraphy was onnade, or woman's writing.

Heresy lay ahead. By the time she was 15, she had already been through nine years of intensive discipline, “I got tired of it and decided to try my own style. My father always scolded me for being naughty and departing from the traditional way, but I had to do it.”

She produces a brush and a piece of paper to demonstrate the nature of her rebellion. “This is kawa, the accepted calligraphic character for river,” she says, deftly sketching three short vertical strokes. “But I wanted to use more than three lines to show the force of the river.” Her brush flows across the white page, leaving a recognizable river behind, also flowing.” The simple kawa in the traditional language was not enough for me. I wanted to find a new symbol to express the word river.”

Her conviction grew that ink could convey the ineffable, the feeling, "as she says, of wind blowing softly.” Another demonstration. She goes to the sliding wooden door of an anteroom and disappears in back of it; the only trace of her is a triangular swatch of the right sleeve of her kimono, which she has arranged for that purpose. A realization dawns. The task of this artist is to paint that three sided pattern so that the invisible woman attached to it will be manifest to all viewers.

Gen, painted especially for TIME, shows Shinoda’s theory in practice. She calls the work “my conception of Japan in visual terms.” A dark swath at the left, punctuated by red, stands for history. In the center sits a Chinese character gen, which means in the present or actuality. A blank pattern at the right suggests an unknown future.

Once out of school, Shinoda struck off on a path significantly at odds with her culture. She recognized marriage for what it could mean to her career (“a restriction”) and decided against it. There was a living to be earned by doing traditional calligraphy:she used her free time to paint her variations. In 1940 a Tokyo gallery exhibited her work. (Fourteen years would pass before she got a second show.)War came, and bad times for nearly everyone, including the aspiring artist , who retreated to a rural area near Mount Fuji and traded her kimonos for eggs.

In 1954 Shinoda’s work was included in a group exhibit at New York City’s Museum of Modern Art. Two years later, she overcame bureaucratic obstacles to visit the U.S.. Unmarried Japanese women are allowed visas for only three months, patiently applying for two-month extensions, one at a time, Shinoda managed to travel the country for two years. She pulls out a scrapbook from this period. Leafing through it, she suddenly raises a hand and touches her cheek:”How young I looked!” An inspection is called for. The woman in the grainy, yellowing newspaper photograph could easily be the one sitting in this room. Told this, she nods and smiles. No translation necessary.

Her sojourn in the U.S. proved to be crucial in the recognition and development of Shinoda’s art. Celebrities such as actor Charles Laughton and John Lewis of the Modern Jazz Quartet bought her paintings and spread the good word. She also saw the works of the abstract expressionists, then the rage of the New York City art world, and realized that these Western artists, coming out of an utterly different tradition, were struggling toward the same goal that had obsessed her. Once she was back home, her work slowly made her famous.

Although Shinoda has used many materials (fabric, stainless steel, ceramics, cement), brush and ink remain her principal means of expression. She had said, “As long as I am devoted to the creation of new forms, I can draw even with muddy water.” Fortunately, she does not have to. She points with evident pride to her ink stone, a velvety black slab of rock, with an indented basin, that is roughly a foot across and two feet long. It is more than 300 years old. Every working morning, Shinoda pours about a third of a pint of water into it, then selects an ink stick from her extensive collection, some dating back to China’s Ming dynasty. Pressing stick against stone, she begins rubbing. Slowly, the dried ink dissolves in the water and becomes ready for the brush. So two batches of sumi (India ink) are exactly alike; something old, something new. She uses color sparingly. Her clear preference is black and all its gradations. “In some paintings, sumi expresses blue better than blue.”

It is time to go downstairs to the living quarters. A niece, divorced and her daughter,10,stay here with Shinoda; the artist who felt forced to renounce family and domesticity at the outset of her career seems welcome to it now. Sake is offered, poured into small cedar boxes and happily accepted. Hold carefully. Drink from a corner. Ambrosial. And just right for the surroundings and the hostess. A conservative renegade; a liberal traditionalist; a woman steeped in the male-dominated conventions that she consistently opposed. Her trail blazing accomplishments are analogous to Picasso’s.
When she says goodbye, she bows. 


Special thanks to these online sources of information and images related to Toko Shinoda:









Saturday, February 27, 2016

Horse Hair Yarn - Spinning Rudolf



Sorraia stud colts at play on unseasonably mild December day
Ravenseyrie - Manitoulin Island
Ontario - Canada


Last November, I wrote a detailed account in the Journal of Ravenseyrie about learning to crochet and how this stimulated a desire within me to also learn to spin my own yarn so that I could make things with the shed winter coats of our "wild" Sorraia horses.  



Set up to blend Sorraia horse hair and sheep wool
approximately a 50/50 blend


Silvestre, soaking up the February sun at Ravenseyrie,
soon he will be shedding his warm, winter coat and I will spin
more yarn from him and his mates!

I titled that entry Spinning Sorraia!...double click on the title and the magic of the internet will take you to that particular creative odyssey.  

In this month's journal entry, I would like to share with you what I was inspired to create with the horse hair my friend Annemiek sent me from the Netherlands.  


Rudolf, a dark bay Thoroughbred and good friend of my friend,  Annemiek Stuart
photo credit:  Jacolien Frens

Annemiek's horse, Rudolf, and the Furminator brush she used to collect his shed winter hair

Annemiek sent a nicely prepared bagful of Rudolf's dark bay hair, scented with earthy essential oils.  For a horse-loving-gal such as me, the mingling of Miek's essential oil scents with the natural odeur de cheval had me intoxicated with the desire to card and spin a sample of Rudolf straightaway.   


Annemiek's bag filled with horse hair from Rudolf
alongside my first hand-carded rolag
75% horse hair/25% sheep wool

My first spin of Rudolf's hair I did on a homemade spindle

I asked Miek if she wanted me to spin yarn and send her the finished skeins for her to use, or would she like me to crochet something special?  Annemiek opted to have me make something for her.

During the period of several weeks that I was carding and spinning Rudolf's hair, I was all the while thinking about what I might crochet for Miek.  I was surprised that Rudolf's hair was a bit more prickly than the hair of our "wild" Sorraia horses - I would have expected it to be softer than the grullo hair.  I decided to try blending Rudolf's hair a bit differently and went with 60% horse hair to 40% sheep wool and that helped make the yarn spin more even, but I felt it was still to prickly for making a garment like a hat or a neck warmer.  Perhaps a vest might be nice?  Hmmm...

...reaching into the tote bag Miek had sent Rudolf's shed winter hair in gave me the idea that the yarn made with Rudolf's hair would perhaps make a very unique and useful fashion bag.

Being still fairly new to crocheting (since October 2014), I had never before made a tote bag and began to research images and patterns until I felt I could cobble together something of my own design.  It soon became obvious that there was not a sufficient amount of Rudolf's hair to make enough yarn for the size of bag I had designed, so I decided it would be a great time to use yarn that I had made from thistledown gathered off the Ravenseyrie landscape.

Bull Thistle (Cirsium vulgare) at Ravenseyrie

I don't have my own photo handy of the cottony down the Bull Thistle yields up when it turns to seed, but you can view a nice image of that at Andy's Northern Ontario Wildflower website.

Handspun yarn made with Thistle Down
50% sheep wool/50% thistle down
I was a very bad girl and did not back up photos taken on my iPad of what carded thistledown looks like and those images have vanished.  (I promise to document more thoroughly how I make yarn from thistledown this autumn!)  Even more appalling - I did not keep track of how I made the tote bag, i.e. what size hook, what combination of stitches, how many, etc.  Definitely Miek's fashion tote is a one of a kind as I doubt I could reproduce it even if I did have more of Rudolf's hair to make yarn from.

Fashion tote bag made from horse hair and
thistledown yarn
I was very happy with how the tote bag turned out.  It was a great educative experience for me to learn to increase and decrease stitches in particular places so that I could get a rather flat, rectangular bottom.  I was very pleased with the addition of the thistledown yarn, as it had lots of rustic nubbiness and subtle brown flecks from bits of chaff from the dried plant matter that complemented nicely with the dark bay colour of Rudolf's shed winter hair.  I used sturdy jute to make the handles.

I decided that this tote bag would be more finished and useful if I made a liner for it - another new aspect of learning for a gal like me who can hardly sew a button back on correctly.  Thankfully, Lynda Noe, an expert quilter/fibre artist has her studio on the lower level of the building where my Ravenseyrie Studio & Art Gallery is located.  Back in 2010, Lynda and I had a joint exhibition at the Gore Bay Museum's art gallery.  You can read about that show by clicking HERE. With Lynda's input, I was able to make a nice liner for the tote bag that would keep things from poking through the spaces between the crocheted stitches.

Horse hair fashion tote, with liner sewed in
Yes, indeed...I felt this was a very nice fashion tote and perhaps the only one made from horsehair yarn!  I packed it up and sent it off to the Netherlands in early November, anxious to see if Miek liked what I made for her with Rudolf's hair.

When Annemiek received her package from Canada, she wrote me that she thought making a tote bag with Rudolf yarn was a great idea and sent me a photo of it as soon as she unwrapped it:

Horsehair fashion tote, safely makes it to its destination in Holland
Later, Miek sent me photos of when she showed Rudolf the tote bag.  She said she thought he liked it but he seemed more curious about the way it smelled than how it looked.  (I wash my finished yarn and completed crochet items in water containing lavender oil to deter bugs from making a meal of the fibres.)


Annemiek Stuart with Rudolf, who is checking
out a fashion tote made from his shed winter hair
Annemiek gives Rudolf a kiss of thanks for his contribution
to her wardrobe 

I had a great time spinning horse hair again and crocheting it into a tote bag along with homespun thistledown yarn and really appreciated getting a feeling for the differences between Rudolf's hair and the hair of our Sorraias.  All the Sorraia yarn that I made from last winter's shed winter coats I am saving and hoping to add more to it this spring when all those lovely wild equines shed once again.  I have an idea for a dressy poncho I'd like to make from those varied shades of grey.

Horsehair yarn from grulla coloured Sorraias
naturally shed winter undercoats



Thank you Annemiek for gathering and sending me Rudolf's hair, and also sending photos to help me document the process here in the Journal of Ravenseyrie.  I hope you get many years of good use out of your Rudolf fashion tote!  And for those of you who wonder what to do with all that hair that comes off your horses in the spring...you might consider taking up spinning!  This author thinks horse hair makes wonderfully attractive and useful yarn!
  

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Sensuous Touch of Wind and Sky


Sorraia stallions in the snow at Ravenseyrie


Let REAL life seduce you...
Embrace the sensuous touch
of wind and sky.  --L. Gerard

Come with me today, won't you?  I want to show you some scenes from the past few days here at the Ravenseyrie Sorraia Mustang Preserve on Manitoulin Island, Ontario, Canada.

Sunday was turbulent, with a good "snow and blow" - the first robust winter storm we've had so far this season.  When those bitter winds howl over the East Bluff, and especially if they are accompanied by heavy snowfall, the "wild" horses of Ravenseyrie seek out the forested areas and woodland copses that provide shelter from the elements.

Depending on which direction the storm is blowing in from determines which sector of the preserve the horses will take refuge in.  Since they are limited to just 360 acres and winters are long affairs here on the island we provide mixed grass hay twice daily.  The horses know that Kevin and I will be bringing out toboggan loads of "dried summertime" to supplement their daily foraging and they keep watch as they wait for us to cross through the open wind and enter into their more subdued wooded copse.  Kevin and I call those treks with the toboggans, "mushing".  Kev says, "Today we mush to the north copse!"  And with him breaking trail, this old gal can enjoy the labour of it.

Both morning and late day feedings of hay were mushed to this favourite windbreak on that stormy Sunday.  Funny thing about the island...often the weather we are having up on the bluff in Gore Bay is different than what the more central and southerly realms like Tehkummah (where we keep our Sorraia mares on the Twinravens range) receive.  Mark let me know that they were not being "walloped" by the storm down there at Twinravens as we were.  Ain't that something?   


Kevin Droski delivers hay to the wild horses of Ravenseyrie

Sorraia stallion, Altamiro

These next photos are from yesterday morning.  Another "snow and blow" had moved in just after the Ravenseyrie bachelors had finished their morning feeding, which we were able to lay out for them nearer the house.  Off they went, bent into the wind, heading for the forest and some shelter from the elements.  And likely the mares down there in Tehkummah were dining on the large round bales I left for them in their forest shelter, as Mark let me know Twinravens was not spared this time and were getting in on the "snow and blow", too. 

A tight foursome of Sorraias heading for shelter


Last to head for the forest are Zeus (a domestic Thoroughbred gelding) and
young Sorraia stallion, Destemido 


Now this morning.  It was -24ºC when we went out to feed the bachelors.  That's the chilliest we've been so far this winter.  But...oh bliss!...no wind.!  Not even a puff of a breeze!  A pristine morning, and the frosty fellas were waiting near the house.  The colours were emerging so engagingly, I decided to hang out with the bachelors and wait for the sun to work some magic.

Looking north, waiting for the sun to enhance the colours

Sunrise at Ravenseyrie

Your author, laying in the snow, enjoying the horses and the big sky



Altamiro has an interesting drip line of frozen moisture

The Lone Spruce waits for the sun's touch, too.

Colours are getting stronger

Is Altamiro watching the sun's emergence, just as the Spruce and I are?


Legado (aka "The Pistol") watches me watching him

The sun has to climb above these clouds before it casts is glow on the horses


Ravens are flying over...I wish they would come closer!

And the glow begins to reach the horses, just a wee bit

The slant of winter sunlight...still subtle, but ever magical

That was all I got out of that first crest of sunlight as more clouds obscured it again.  It was time to go to the house and warm my feet by the fire.  And wouldn't you know, once I was back inside...the sun broke through the clouds again and gave me the better contrast of light I had been hoping for.  Just look at the colours!  How spectacular that sky drama would have looked with me aiming my camera lens at a Sorraia while I was laying in the snow.  It still looks spectacular from my open door, even so.

Lake effect clouds over the North Channel

Lake effect clouds over the North Channel push deeper over the bluff
I could have stayed poised with my camera all day long, taking photos of the sun and clouds waltzing so seductively...but I have a business to run...and I had to get meself down the bluff to open the gallery.

Once down there...I was rewarded with this view off the balcony outside my studio.  Now you get to see those lake effect clouds over the North Channel before they push up the bluff.  And up on that bluff...wild horses roam.  Isn't life wonderful?

Lake effect clouds over the North Channel, pushing up the East Bluff,
as freeze up begins in the winter of 2015/16
Gore Bay, Ontario



 "The human body is not a closed or static object, but an open, unfinished entity utterly entwined with the soils, waters, and winds that move through it--a wild creature whose life is contingent upon multiple other lives that surround it, and the shifting flows that surge through it."  -David Abram