And yes, it's pretty obvious who I used to model as an Americana music fan. He does NOT have a belly like that in real life.
April 2008 Archives
Days like these are uneventful in a lovely way. Orbit to the rescue, he got me out of the house three times. We freelancers have our secret meetings in the dog park, but we tolerate the odd young parent or retiree. I even managed a quick and dirty dinner, sausages with a conscience. We have a new butcher, he sells meat with a conscience. I threw the sausages in a pan and just added onion, green pepper, tomato and basil. Some fresh bread, and a good cheese, heaven. Michiel even brought wine, but unfortunately he was late, his computer had crashed. So I had wine after dinner.
I am going to have him look up. And everything else is going to make sense too. We watched The Birds tonight. It's a great film to watch again, even though the special effects are really primitive to twenty-first-century eyes, the kids were captivated. Somebody on YouTube put funny music to the film, I kept hitting Replay while drawing, beautiful! I usually hate it when people put funny music to films, not this time. I wish I looked like Tipi Hedren.
I really only knew Gram Parsons from his music, until today -I was researching a new illustration subject (yes, finally)- I had no idea what he looked like. And I had never heard of Nudie Cohn, I come across so many things I don't know on a daily basis, I feel dumber and dumber. Nudie and his wife Helen are responsible for the outrageous outfits of Hank Williams, Roy Rogers, Elvis, Bobbejaan Schoepen(!), Porter Wagoner, and yes, Gram Parsons. His suit is embroidered with pills and marijuana leaves, and it is incredibly beautiful. Nudie and Helen started their career in New York in the 1930s, with a shop called Nudie's for the Ladies, selling underwear and outfits to showgirls and burlesque dancers. In the 1940s, after hitchhiking across the country several times, they settled in Los Angeles and began creating what would become the famous Nudie suits.
Comments closed for now, spam attack. If you would want to comment, use studio@duvekot.ca and I'll upload them.
I love this neighbourhood.
And I even bought a bike light so I would be safe coming home from life drawing. But the model didn't show up, so I could bike back by daylight still. Michiel had invented lasagna burgers, I was in time for those, that was a good thing. Two weeks ago I bought a new sketch book for the drawing class, and then Tim canceled. Maybe I should just never buy anything before class. So instead of a life drawing sketch I show you how Piffin abuses her parents in art school projects. It is an ingeniously sewn book out of painting canvas, full of weird snapshots, very heavy. She had her last exam today, we are safe for the Summer. With bike lights and all.
Piffin's friend Buni drew this lovely birthday card. And gave me permission to blog it. I believe it is her self portrait. Wearing a funny costume. It was a beautiful birthday, on a beautiful day. Piffin made her own birthday cake, a lemon and lime cheese cake. Only in stead of some zest, she put in a whole rind :-x Funny things happened today, birthday or not. I was happy to have mailed all of the tax shit to our accountant, and a tax notice flies in through the mail slot. A Dutch one! We don't pay taxes in Holland! Water Board District Tax, Holland is a country below sea level. According to the letter we are the owners of my father-in-law's house, he was very surprised to hear that. How in the hell the Water Board got hold of our address in Canada is a mystery. Every single day enough shit happens to get all worked up. Michiel had a bad day at work, he said. It had gotten so bad that he just couldn't take it anymore, he said. And what did you do? I went outside... and I ate... an apple. Wonderful stress management. Almost as wonderful as the big black guy I saw sitting in his car singing along with this Abba song, the whole street vibrated. Is it racist to think it's funny that a big black guy would sing an Abba song?
Three quarters of an hour and Piffin will reach drinking age. She isn't home, maybe she is in a bar with her friends, drinking pop, ready to order a beer at the stroke of midnight. Happy birthday my little baby.
A lady's car broke down in front of our house. We were sitting on the front porch having a beer with a couple of neighbours, so we cheerfully watched the scene. The car made alarming screech noises as the woman turned the ignition. Hopeless. She then sat down on neighbour Paul's garden bench and gave up. So we waved a bottle of beer and invited her over. Of course it was an SUV, and of course it was parked way wrong, so we poked fun at that. Fortunately it wasn't her car, and it turned out we had met before at some party. She hadn't far to go, just a few blocks up the street. We had our beers as cars started honking. Neighbour Rick waved them through, lots of space, lots of space! Come on, we had a tractor trailer come through, if a tractor trailer can do it, you can do it! People were annoyed with the SUV half blocking the road. But it was quite good actually, it beautifully slowed down traffic. The lady, I now think she was called Margaret, but she probably wasn't, waited for the CAA to show, but it took an awful long time. In the end neighbour Rick decided to get his Terminator tool that he got at Canadian Tire, it can boost the battery or something. And it worked, so on her way she was. And back twenty minutes later, with an enormous pitcher of Margarita's! I got the lawn chairs out and we had a totally shameless party on our front lawn. Long after Margaret had gone, the CAA guy showed up, but Rick took care of him. And then I made dinner for everybody that we ate in neighbour Rick's back yard. And there is a typical South Riverdale weekend for you, aren't we all glad it's spring and the sun is out!
It is my birthday, and this lovely new living room door is my present. Yesterday already we went door shopping at the Restore, but they didn't have what we wanted. They did have seven doors in their garbage, that we took for Michiel to cut up and reuse to make a new dinner table. But today we went to the Salvage Shop, all the way east east east on Kingston Road, I felt like on a holiday almost. Doesn't feel like you're still in the city there. The Salvage Shop used to be here in Leslieville, but he moved closer to home and his workshop. Good thing he had the right door, it would have been a long trip for nothing otherwise. Tonight we went for fish & chips, that is a house rule. Who ever has their birthday gets to choose dinner. It was really cheap and totally lovely, I had halibut and coleslaw, tartar sauce and dark cherry pop. Does that sound Canadian enough for Dutchies? Okay, I'll make it worse. I bought myself another nice present. Lee Valley yard waste bags. They look so much better on the curb than President's Choice ones do, don't you think? The gentleman in the shop said they shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence. Which I made sure I didn't.
My notes for my monthly radio appearance. Of course I didn't get to say half of what I had prepared, but that's the name of the game. I only have to learn to say the right half. There was a lot of echo on the line, which didn't help. Very distracting, to have to listen to yourself. My second topic went better, I had taken a deep breath and forced myself to ignore the echo. The question of the day was did you have a favourite teacher. My answer was Wim Smits, he was one of my art school teachers. And the first teacher to ever show confidence in me. That was a very uneasy feeling. All the teachers before him had always only demanded, and nothing was ever good enough. That is actually not completely true now that I come to think of it. Sister Marie-Martine in grade five and six had me draw her embroidery patterns. But I don't think that was genuine confidence, I just came in handy. Now dear readershippies, do you have any fond teacher memories to share?
It is a bit of a boring pose, but I don't mind. Not many models do long poses standing up, so I am grateful. Drawing a standing pose is harder than a sitting one, I find. It's easier to let the proportions go absurd, a sitting person has so much more angels and communicating body parts, if you solve the puzzle, the proportions can't be too far off. Standing up however, there is no way to compare the lengths of arms and legs, or the size of the head. I drew her breasts a little too small. Not that they were very big in the first place. In case you notice she is a little off balance, you're right. She was leaning on a pole. I hate drawing models with poles. The pole was in her left hand, that I didn't draw. It was hardly visible anyway.
My friend Laura is a translator. We were emailing about the expression doing/pulling/throwing "a Helen Keller". And here she is, the young Helen Keller, throwing a Helen Keller. Before it was called that. Overwhelmingly magnificent scene, and we watched it over breakfast, how appropriate. (Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft in the 1962 William Gibson film The Miracle Worker)
Not much going on here, sorry. I could show you a picture of how much wallpaper I scraped in the hallway, or one of the scale model dinner table that Michiel made, and is now the only piece of furniture on the brandnew finished floor in the front room. But Piffin takes the camera with her all the time. I could write about all the films we watch, "into the wild" was awesome, go see it, next week it's in Dutch theatres. I could also tell you about Michiel's fantastic day in the hospital. He went to see our GP for his back pain, and ended up being sent to the ER to have them rule out a heart attack. Like the time my brain tumor was ruled out (and then they decided I had this), boy is this ever a safe country. I have never in my life met doctors as thorough as Canadian doctors. Anyway. Happy to be alive, see you tomorrow!
I was curious. I think she is tragically unmediagenic, so I was curious to see what she would look like in real life. I was almost sure she would look much better. Some people are just not loved much by camera's. And I was right, she is a totally acceptable looking young woman. I am sure would I put more time in it, I could draw a quite flattering portrait. It helped to see her invade Betty's with a delegation of twenty-five, her black curls mingling through the crowd at below shoulder level, she is very short. And yes, I did talk to her, and I did my best to give her what she was there for, meeting Dutch parents with children in the Canadian school system. They had been inundated with hurray speeches all week, and going all maternal I told her not to believe everything she had heard. I think they were all very taken by the "inclusiveness" of the Toronto schools. But the people I talked with were all very surprised to hear that all those special ed kids rarely share a classroom with the regular students. Sure they are in the same building, but they hardly pass each other in the hallways. I hope Sharon Dijksma is not going back to Holland to throw all kids together, thinking she is doing them a favor and cutting costs at the same time. (I just received my own dear son's annual special ed's review waiver. It states he is "partially integrated". Sounds like fun.)
I do like the city, certainly on a day like today. But I had a problem. I couldn't decide whether to go to the Parent Council Meeting in Otger's school, or the drawing class. So I wanted to keep my options open and set out to buy a new sketch book, my old one is full. I got on the streetcar, exactly like the little red ones in the picture, nothing ever changes in Toronto. I got off and walked to the art supply store, the one right next door to Piffin's art school, and I bought my sketch book. "Are you a student, a teacher, or otherwise?" "Otherwise". Then I walked to Pages, the bookstore around the corner, while sucking in Spring impressions. Nothing like art school students on a sunny day. But before I reached the bookstore Piffin called on my cell. I had her TTC pass, and she needed it. Shit, I even payed my streetcar fare with a ticket! Anyway, she allowed me to buy my magazine, if I bought her a Juxtapoz. I had planned on browsing through all the magazines, for acquistion inspiration. Okay, none of that. Back in the little red streetcar. But I still hadn't decided on whether to go to the meeting or the drawing. And then Tim canceled the drawing. I always have that, problems just solve themselves. Parent council it was. Pool closures, water fountains, and a new online bulletin board. But to sit there and observe these goings on was much more interesting than the actual topics. The vice principal was wearing wild shoes. And the legendary Canadian kindness of these people, as if nothing ever happens, and the city is really like in the picture. No, we do not want to announce that the water fountains are working again, because that would draw attention to the fact that there has been a problem. The students will figure it out by themselves, and we want to focus on more positive things. I love this city.
April really started today, happy birthday Michiel, the rest of us will follow. Why is everybody's birthday in April, it's just too much. This one too, the exact same day, odd, I always thought him younger. There are more dishes all over the kitchen, I just couldn't get them in one photo.
What a glorious spring weather we have all of the sudden. And we spent the first beautiful afternoon inside a theatre. I told you we got free tickets. It was this play, and it was amazing. German politics in the 1970's, who would have thought. Not boring at all! Ten guys in suit and tie on the stage, more than two hours of solid dialogue. I could never learn that much text by heart. The theatre was packed. The students in the row behind us didn't understand anything, and I heard one of them moan she wasn't mature enough. I sure as hell was glad I didn't bring the kids. I mean, we lived through the seventies, we even lived in Germany for five years, so we were fine. But for Canadians I imagine this was extremely intellectual entertainment. Lots of really old people though, probably many of them German Canadians. I woke up in the middle of a nightmare this morning, Günter Guillaume was preventing me from transferring money from one account to another...
In humour, but not only in humour, the Dutch seem to love the absurd. English humour is often absurd, but with more narrative or context than Dutch humour. This is my theory, you may disagree. What is the difference between a dead bird? One leg is longer. There comes the monkey out of the sleeve. Do you know what I would like to be? A floral curtain. There is a horse standing in the hallway. For the same money I could say something else. That beats like a pair of pliers on a pig. That beats like a prick on a drum kit. That beats like a prick on a curbstone. I feel picked in my quiff. Lurven, kladden (non existing body parts). I will put your nose in between your ears. What is that rolling through the desert? A herd of green pees. What is that hanging in that tree? A bunch of yoghourt. You may as well say overpass. Can I barf for a moment? You have people, and you have pencils. You have people, and you have bicycle pumps. It is blue and it flies through the church. The holy ghost in a track suit. Death or the gladiolas. She has hair on her teeth. The Dutch should have invented Dada. Comments open for completion, have fun.
Client hunting campaign is going fine. I've got one maybe, and one probably. And I am following all of your advice. Keep throwing it at me!
Service announcement: I have been experiencing email problems. Whoever emailed me between April 3 5:30 PM, which is 11:30 PM in Holland, and 9 AM (3PM) April 4, I did not receive your e-mail. Please try again.
And in the middle of my life drawing class auntie Michelle calls, do we want some left over theatre tickets. Why yes, what do you think. I completely forgot which theatre and which performance, but who cares. We love free tickets. I will write a review on this mystery show, promise. And on the way back from my life drawing class a homeless guy kept harassing the streetcar driver. It was a very large streetcar driver, or how am I supposed to put that, obese. The homeless guy was treating him as if he was some fat boy in elementary school. How much do you weigh. You need to lose weight. What does your wife say. I am 64 and I am 140 pounds. I am older than you and thinner. I can walk longer distances than you. He went on and on and on. I totally expected the streetcar driver to lose his nerve, but he didn't. I often notice this eternal patience streetcar drivers have with homeless people, or freaky people in general. Letting them on for free and everything. Do they get special training for that? I have to ask my neighbour Terry that, he is a streetcar driver. He may even know the obese driver, he works on the same line.
I just noticed I forgot to draw her right foot, how strange.
I have wasted an hour surfing radios. Things of beauty, these old tube radios. I had no idea there were so many different ones. And they are still out there, still being repaired, and sold. I wanted to find the exact one that we used to have back in the sixties, but it's hard. This could be the one, I'm not sure. But it's close. (This one looks familiar too.) I was always intrigued by all the cities on the display. As if we would ever be able to hear radio stations from those cities. Prague. Vienna. Didn't happen. I think the radio was more or less fixed on one station, changing it was a big deal. And Piffin's iPod broke down. No audio to the right ear. And LOL! Three weeks from now it will be one year ago that we bought Piffin the video iPod for her eighteenth birthday, so we were still under warranty. Are those things designed to give up as soon as the warranty expires? Anyway, she is now the proud owner of a brand new shining iPod. Gratis. Only downside, it's empty.
