1. Art as a cure
It is the ugliest time of year in Winnipeg. Snowbanks are beige agglomerations of crusty ice covered in sandy gravel, receding, revealing mould-filmed flattened brown lawns. My mood suffered from the dismal view and the sun was bright but not quite warm enough to feel caressing. What helped was dropping in to Joel Meyerowitz's giant book of photography, titled Where I Find Myself. Being transported elsewhere thanks to someone else's artistic eye was just the cure I needed. I felt the energy of his pictures as he communicated it in the description of one of his series:
What freedom! Just being out in the world, shooting whatever spoke to me or suggested itself to my eye. Actually, learning to listen to what speaks to you, rather than prejudging or censoring, is what a trip like that offered. The world is far richer and more interesting than my imagination could conceive of, and by accepting this - which is at the heart of the medium - I learned not to second-guess myself and simply let the world play on my eyes. (page 261)
2. Enzo has a sore paw
I wonder if this week's mood is in part influenced by the fact that I can't take Enzo on long walks... he hurt his paw, and so we do a block. When it is time to turn around and go back home, he pauses and looks up at me, as if to say that he'd really rather keep walking and sniffing around. Marie-Hélène and I finished reading Where the Red Fern Grows published in 1961. It's about a boy and a pair of raccoon-hunting hounds and their adventures and misadventures. I was unfamiliar with the story and so, the accidental death of one of the characters who tripped and fell on an ax, and the gory after-effects of one of the hound's fight with a mountain lion - the dog's entrails catching on huckleberry branches on his walk home - came as a bit of a shock. I don't know why I was surprised... Aren't we always raising the alarm on violence these days? But somehow, the violence that filters through to my kids as Nintendo explosions, seems more comical and exaggerated than gory and realistic. I wonder if the quantity of violence is the same as it has been (or is it more?) but its remove is greater.
3. What we ate
Ali Slagel's Sesame Chicken Meatballs were a nice change of flavour. I really love how her cookbook provides such helpful hints. For example; while her recipe suggested broccoli, her note offered alternatives: “use another vegetable that’s good both raw and crisp-tender, like snap peas, scallions, broccolini, or sweet mini peppers.” And not only that, she also listed three other uses for the sesame sauce made for this meal. Her cookbook is delightfully titled I Dream of Dinner (So You Don’t Have To).
4. Masters of art series
I thought I would look down on a slim volume about an artist’s life and works, but perusing one on Marc Chagall from the Masters of Art Series felt like just the right dose of art and biography to foster interest and encourage a greater familiarity with what often feels like an intimidating subject.
5. A few pictures of dishes.
The kids thought it was strange that I took pictures of dishes in the sink, but I found them oddly pretty, their colour and the suds suggesting the comfort of warmth and cleanliness… It’s something to do while I wait for the view outside to improve.
