the idea of north

I spent Friday night at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO), catching up with Jerry Finelli about film festivals and performances in cool industrial spaces and local cider.

Jerry and I met in Iceland, hiking around Snaefellsnes and eating hakarl (putrified shark) with shots of Brennevin, the local caraway vodka.

This was a little tamer.

Lawren Harris was one of the Group of Seven. Like most Americans, my knowledge is Canadian artists is limited mostly to Canadians who made it big in the US: Justin Bieber. Joni Mitchell. Drake. Steve Martin (who produced this show). Frank Gehry (who designed the building we were in).

Ed.: Jerry says Steve Martin isn't actually Canadian. He was now in Texas.

Harris' paintings

The show provides historical context on Harris' early career, painting The Ward, an area of Toronto where recent immigrants from Eastern Europe and China lived before World War I.

In the mid 20s, his work became less realistic and more mythical.

This is Mt. Robson on the border of BC and Alberta, on the road from Vancouver to Jasper. I'd love to see it again one day.


Many of the paintings depict Baffin Island. Promptly added to my wish list.

Not sure how I'll get there.

And to bring things full circle, this evokes Hallgrimskikja, the landmark church in Reykjavik. 

Later in life, Harris' paintings became more symbolic. Graphical, but colder. They don't move me the way mountains do.

He was still obsessed with the same shapes: giant crystals and balls. But he'd moved to New Mexico. I guess he stopped going north.

Gehry's building
Gehry buildings are often a mishmash of styles and materials, and the AGO is no exception.

The spiral wooden staircase is exquisite except it's also hard to walk down, and ends abruptly.

This was my favorite section, the wooden interior of a ship. Perhaps a canoe? The glass is reminiscent of the Pompidou Centre escalators in that it provides a great view outward of the city. Here's the AGO from the back.

I am a Gehry skeptic. I see him as a talented sculptor who works in enormous scale. There's a moment in the documentary his friend Sidney Lumet made where he folds up a post it very dramatically and then crumples it slightly, and an assistant takes it away, to try to build. Best of luck, kid.

Appropriately we had dinner at a hip restaurant that was a mashup of Korean and Jewish food: latkes and short ribs. A true Toronto combination. The Ontario cider was good too.

Other mountain worshippers
The paintings reminded me of Nicholas Roerich's work, which I saw last fall at his marvelous NYC townhouse museum. Like Harris, Roerich was a theosophist. He saw the spiritual world in nature. So do I.

Roerich was a set designer, and I have a few of his evocative landscapes on the wall at home. He was also a traveler. Where Harris went north to Baffin Island and Mt Robson, Roerich went east to Tibet.

I'm headed north myself, to Mutton Lake and Parry Sound. We'll see what art the landscape inspires. 

More on Harris, including gossip:


TThe Group of Seven always looked less like insurgents than insurance salesmen. While they fancied themselves masters of the Canadian wilderness, they were, for the most part, cosmopolitan urbanites, animated by anger toward what they considered retrograde Canadian art. They cast themselves as outsiders but were very much a part of the cultural establishment. 

March 2017: There's a show at Museo Picasso Paris that includes some of Lawren Harris' work. More details including a full biography and upcoming shows featuring his paintings here.

can u canoe?

Ah, the air is good here in the land of Adirondack chairs. Or rather, the land of Muskoka chairs.

Joel and Sheila have an inflatable kayak and a canoe in their lovely yard. (Don't you?) And fabulous bushy-tailed black squirrels.

And many objects of interest, from their travels and beyond. 

But these people have a whole stack of canoes. Just in case. 

They also live a block from the beach: the northern shore of Lake Ontario, where everyone was out playing volleyball after dinner. 

Looking forward to exploring. It's been 9 years since I last came to Toronto. I'm sure to find more interesting art like this wave mural and sundial. 

Joel pointed out the "pebbles" are smooth beach glass: where bottles go to die. And everywhere you look, good food. 

the great white north

It's true, I'm off to Canada again.

I'll be posting stories from across the border: museums and architecture and canoe trips and maple syrup tours. Visiting brilliant, inspiring friends I first met in Costa Rica and in Iceland. Practicing my barely existent Quebecois.

Until then, keep yourself busy with 101 poutines to eat before you die.

aloft

Portland built an aerial tram a few years ago, connecting the medical campus for OHSU to the south waterfront.

Downhill is free :) 

That's Mt. Hood in the distance. It's a super smooth ride. 

At the bottom, we walked over the new Tilikum bridge, the 12th bridge over the Willamette within city limits. 

Cars aren't allowed on the bridge. Only buses, pedestrians, cyclists, and a new streetcar line. 

Below the river was filled with activity. Barges and sailboats and a school of standup paddleboarders. 

The best part is it runs till after dark. The southern waterfront is a sea of activity. Check it out. 

natural stairmaster

Today's detour took me to Chimney Rock state park. I'd always wanted to go there.

Chimney Rock sits at an elevation of 2880 feet, looking out over the Broad River.

To climb the 1000+ feet to its top, you can either take an elevator in the rock or climb 499 steps.

I'd intended to walk up and slide—I mean "ride"—down.

But the ranger greeted me with the news that admission was discounted because the elevator was out of service.

Shades of the stairs to the Devil's Punchbowl in Arthur's Pass National Park, New Zealand.

This guy charmed me.

(And if you don't like my pictures, here's the web cam. There are lots of scary warnings.)

The Broad River empties into lovely Lake Lure.

You may know Lake Lure from the movies where it's stood in for upstate New York (!) in Last of the Mohicans and even more memorably, "Dirty Dancing." 

(Because of time, I had to skip Melanie's bbq recommendations in favor of a last languid lunch by the lake. At least I got a little exercise.)

***

I'm finally off to the Pacific Coast to cool off. It's been an important trip, but I can't wait to get back to where I belong: West of the Rockies. Look for updates from the Beaver state.

Appalachian trail

Hello from Mills River, NC where I'm taking a brief detour on my way back to the West Coast. I spent 10 days in Florida and never saw the ocean. Now I'm in peach country, wishing I had more time for the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Asheville is charming, filled with good food and architecture and happy people. 

You could even say good vibes.

There's a trail of public art, punctuated by interesting shops and snacks. 

This iron outside the flat iron building on Wall Street amused me. 

In between ice cream and fried chicken and grits, I bought a boatload of gifts and a Woodrow for me. This is a Woodrow. 

Now I just have to learn to play it. 

The store was in this airy mall. I was drawn in by the grandfather clock, and by the sound of a woman playing music. 

Everything old is new again. Old-fashioned crafts are back, like this pot holder/washcloth. 

Tomorrow it's off to the mountains for a quick hike and some barbecue. But for now I'll leave you with the view of the Blue Ridge Parkway from Jump-off Rock last night. 

Not too shabby.