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Balloons at CPW
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Balloons at CPW

I recently joined my husband at his 50th high school reunion. It was a pleasure to watch him rejoin the friends of his youth, like these colourful balloons joyfully bobbing together. He happily reconnected both with those who he remembered and those who remembered him. Like these balloons, they may fly away, pop, or simply lose what made them fly, but that joyful moment of reconnection was sheer beauty.
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Tagged balloons, Central Park West, high school, memories, reunion
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The Ephemerality of Art … and Buildings
This gallery contains 4 photos.
Search this address on Google and you get a picture of the Emergency Medical Centre. Well, this centre no longer exists. Cincinnati officials were anxious to revitalize and were selling up buildings in a hurry. A developer put the wrecking … Continue reading
June 8, 2013 – Sacred Water Ceremony

About five years before this photo was taken, we heard Prime Minister Harper’s apology for Canada’s policy of assimilation that set out “to kill the Indian in the child” in the Residential Schools. Now, funding for 15 healing centres created to respond to the trauma experienced by residential school survivors and of others impacted will cease December 2013. Reinstate the funding now. Let the sacred water wash you. As Mr. Harper stated in his apology, “this is a burden that we cannot and should not bear alone.”
Sculpture taken back home
In second year sculpture (2011-2012) at The Art Centre at CTS Adult Visual Arts program, our teacher, Erin Vincent, asked us to pick a piece of paper each from two jars, one was on an era and another was on an artist. From these two, we must conceptualize and create a sculpture of a head that will be a fusion of both the era and the artist. I picked the neolithic era and the artist, Marcel Duchamp.
I created five maquettes of what I considered a fair representation of the neolithic heads I saw on the internet for approval to our teacher. I then saw pictures of Steatopygous female figures (steatopygia: an extreme accumulation of fat on the buttocks) and decided to create a sixth maquette of a steatopygous female torso for myself. I did not mean to present this but Erin saw it and liked it so that became the basis of my sculpture. For a piece of “ready-made” art a-la-Duchamp, I thought of the egg-beater that my mother-in-law, Angie Conlon, gave me, then saw one at the Sunday antique market at St. Lawrence Market so it was just a matter of creating the sculpture with the intention of creating a space to add the “ready-made.”
So first was rendering the maquette into a larger clay sculpture, that then was splashed with plaster and built further to make a strong plaster mold. The clay was then removed and replaced with cement fondue. When the cement fondue was hardened and finished, a mixture of cement and epoxy was used to secure the egg beater into the indentation.
The sculpture was kept locked under glass for a year in the CTS hallway until early in June when they were replaced with new sculptures.
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Tagged art, CTS, sculpture, Steatopygous, The Art Centre at CTS
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Tent as Home
Tent. Handbuilt, Sandstone, Stained and partially Glazed, Cone 10
The tent represents the home, and a typical gathering place, or a “church” for a nomadic people. Here’s where they would have gathered, broken bread and shared stories, from books either in oral and, or written form.
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Min Specs for Churches
Tent. Handbuilt, Sandstone, Glazed, Cone 10
“Min specs” [minimum specifications] for a church is for people to:
- Gather
- Break bread
- Share stories
It was very interesting to see Occupy in Toronto took place in the park by my church. And what people did in those tents was that they gathered, they broke bread and they shared stories.
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Visualizing God
When I visualize God, I picture…
a woman sweeping her house clean in search of some old treasure;
a man climbing on a train to seek a new world;
the whiskers of roots on that tomato seed I’m trying to germinate;
the broken shards of clay from a pot that stayed too long outside in winter;
a child sighing with contentment at his mother’s breast;
the agony in a man’s face after seeing his daughter felled by some canister that fell from the sky;
the awe the tourists had over that beautiful bowl the man was serving them with, that bowl which was that canister that was beaten, beaten and beaten in silent anguish until it no longer resembled the weapon that killed his daughter but is now a beautiful object that offers food and sustenance.






