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Image by Upyernoz on Creative Commons Free ImagesLest I should leave the gentle reader with the impression that all of our time here on the west coast of Canada is currently taken up with explorations into hardwood flooring (well – some of it is!) or trying to find the perfect bathtub…

…actually, I must needs digress at this point. What springs to mind when one thinks of the normal Canadian chap (settle down at the back there!)? Yes – that’s right – a tall, swarthy outdoor type who climbs mountains for fun, drives around in a huge pickup, hunts wild animals and skates and rows and skis, etc, etc.

So – what sort of bathtub might you expect such a specimen to require? Yes – so did I, but the standard Canadian bathtub is a mere five foot long and no more than about twelve inches deep! Scarcely enough to dampen one’s… well – you get the idea. Should you require the sort of soaker that we Brits demand – at least five foot five (if not six foot) long and a good twenty two inches deep – then one is looking at a special order. Weird – huh?

Where was I?

Ah yes – culture!

I thought I would regale you with some of the cultural and artistic events that we have attending since landing in BC. Victoria is a really buzzing place and there is a pretty constant schedule of interesting stuff with which to get involved. Should the island not provide enough stimulation on its own it is but a hop and a step to either Vancouver or Seattle.

Anyway – this is what we have been up to:

On the first day of our trip to the interior we stopped in Vancouver, partly to conduct some business but also to visit the Bill Reid Gallery. For those who know nothing about this seminal figure of west coast First Nations art I commend to you the ‘About Bill Reid’ section of the above site. Should you further wish to see an example of Bill Reid’s exquisite sculpture then you need look no further than the facsimile of ‘The Raven and the First Men’ that you will find the top of this post.

The current exhibition at the Bill Reid Gallery – ‘The Box of Treasures’ – features amongst other wonders the extraordinary masks of Beau Dick – whom I have eulogised before in this post entitled ‘A sense of place’.

I most strongly recommend both artists to you – as I do the gallery, should you find yourself in Vancouver.

Much of our cultural month – however – has been given over to the arts dramatic. More – much more – of that in part two of this post.

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Tsk!

tskThe main point of yesterday’s post was to share with the gentle reader the video clip that I had found on the InterWebNet that features Beau Dick – the excellent Kwakwaka’wakw artist and carver.

Now – WordPress contains a smart feature that recognises that one has inserted the address of a Youtube clip and renders it nicely on the screen, running it when clicked in a neat inline player.

What I did not know – not having done this previously – is that the mechanism that I use to send out an email digest to those who have subscribed to this stream of (semi)-consciousness does not recognise Youtube clips in the same manner – indeed it simply removes the link completely.

As a result yesterday’s post made reference to a video clip that email readers could not see at all. My humble apologies for this. Should you wish to see the clip – and it is worth so doing – this link will take you to the post itself and you will be able to view the page the way that was intended.

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidMy first visit to the west coast of Canada – indeed to any part of Canada – was way back in the summer of 2006. The Kickass Canada Girl and I were still relatively new to each other and by the time we landed it was clear that the trip had become a sort of two-way audition. Canada was invited to show itself off to me – the idea being to entice me to want to live there some day – whilst at the same time I was paraded before the Girl’s family and friends to see if I passed muster.

Canada clearly passed the test – and it looks as though I just about squeaked home too…

…though not without the odd alarum! The Girl’s aunt – she whose 80th birthday celebration we attended in Kamloops back in April 2012 – was initially somewhat suspicious of my intentions. Fortunately, once we had met face to face my English charm won her over to the extent that she decided that since I would definitely be moving to BC at  some point I should be fully briefed as to what to expect. To this end she has gifted me each year since then a subscription to British Columbia Magazine – for which I continue to be most grateful.

Leafing through the latest edition – which plopped into our mailbox just the other day – I came across a brief item on a Northwest Coast First Nations’ artist of Kwakwaka’wakw descent by the name of Beau Dick. The description of the man and his work fascinated me so much that I needed to know more. I turned – as ever – to the InterWebNet.

In a 2010 piece for Focus Online (‘Victoria’s magazine of people, ideas and culture’) Leslie Campbell wrote of Beau thus:

“Beau is tall and lanky, with long brown hair and a grey beard. He wears a rumpled black felt hat with feathers and speaks very thoughtfully. Though we didn’t know at the time of our meeting, he is regarded as one of the most creative and versatile Kwakwaka’wakw carvers of his generation, with works in many top museums. He’s a chief, an accomplished singer, composer, historian, and an initiated Hamat’sa, the highest-ranking secret society of the Kwakwaka’wakw.”

I subsequently found the wonderful trailer that I have linked below, for an as yet unfinished documentary on the man. Quite apart from the fascinating insight that it provides into this talented and thoughtful polymath the brief film captures something of the essence of the west coast – a sense of place, if you like.

Should the images, sounds, voices and words contained therein touch you even a fraction as much as they do me, then you might glean an inkling as to just why I feel drawn so strongly to this extraordinary coast.

 

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Photo by Peter80 on Wikimedia CommonsOne of our reasons for choosing the Dordogne for this brief break from our daily grind in the UK is that the Kickass Canada Girl has an enthusiasm for pre-historic cave art. I found myself wanting to write ‘Neolithic’ then rather than ‘pre-historic’ because it just somehow felt right, but the period in question is actually the Magdalenian, of which – I must confess – I had no previous knowledge at all. This is – however – from the man who complained after sitting his physical geography ‘A’ level paper that there had been no question on glaciation – a subject on which he had particularly ‘mugged up’. Sadly that mugging up had not included the key phrase ‘Pleistocene Era’. Doh! My, how the other kids laughed!

Anyway – the Girl came to the subject through the works of the American authoress – Jean M. Auel – who wrote the ‘Earth’s Children’ series of books, of which ‘The Clan of the Cave Bear’ is the first and – possibly – the best known. Now – I must admit to not having read any of these titles but – as those who know me will be only too aware – I have always been drawn to those who have an enthusiasm for pretty much anything and in this case the Girl’s avidity was infectious. Hence, the Dordogne… hence, trips to a number of cro-magnon sites.

We have in the last few days visited cave sites at Rouffignac, Lascaux and Peche Merl. All were fascinating in equal measure, whilst all being at the same time completely different.

Rouffignac is an extensive ‘dead’ limestone cave system. In other words, though the caves were formed by the action of acid-laden water they are now completely dry. The system is sufficiently extensive that visitors travel to a depth of approximately a kilometer underground on a small electric railway that winds its way through the subterranean passageways. The caves feature both engravings – many of which are of mammoths – and drawings of horses, bison, ibexes and rhinoceroses. One of the many mysteries of this cave art is that there are no representations of the animal with which Magdalanian Man was most familiar (it comprising the better part of his diet) – the reindeer.

Several days later we paid an unexpected visit to Lascaux. The reason I say ‘unexpected’ was that all of the Girl’s research prior to our journey south suggested that getting to see any of the cave systems might prove difficult. The numbers allowed into the caves on any given day are extremely small since preservation of the fragile drawings is the imperative and they can be damaged by an excess of carbon dioxide in the air. Visits to most sites – according to the literature at least – cannot be booked before the day concerned and thus queues form very early in the morning to ensure entry.

Our hosts in the Dordogne – of whom more in a later post – advised us that this was a gross exaggeration, and indeed we arrived at the ticket office for Lascaux (in the neighbouring village of Montignac) at 10:30am and acquired tickets for an English tour at 11:00am. Not much of a wait there! A similar story could be told concerning Peche Merl. The website advised that tickets could be reserved in advance, but that to do so one had to book a week or more ahead. Ploughing ahead regardless I was able to book tickets just a couple of days in advance – and for the time of our choice. The lesson is – don’t at believe everything that you read on the InterWebNet – though I expect that you knew that already.

At Lascaux – of course – one cannot see the original cave itself, it now having been sealed safely away from heavy-breathing visitors. The clever French have – however – created a complete underground replica of the cave which they call Lascaux II. This millimetre exact copy of the original is made of concrete and is thus not prone to the decay that is endemic to the limestone equivalent. Even in copy form Lascaux was exquisite.

However beautiful it may have been, however, we had clearly saved the best until last – with Peche Merl. This cave is in the valley of the Lot, rather than that of the Dordogne, and was a two hour trip from where we are staying. It was – as you will see if you follow the link above – completely worth the trip, with fabulous and moving drawings of horses, mammoths and outlines of the human hand, but also with a dazzling display of stalactites and stalagmites. Those of you who remember the works of Roger Dean will recognise clearly the organic forms built up over the millenia in the rock formations. Perhaps the most moving details of all were the footprints of a cro-magnon adolescent which had been preserved at the bottom of a dried out pool. Really quite spooky.

There are many strange and unexplained phenomena in these eerie grottos in the limestone hills of the Perigord. I may revisit the subject in a future post – or perhaps even persuade the Girl herself so to do.

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