Michelle Basic Hendry • Fine Art » Photography

A Year in Review….

Michelle — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:32:49 +0000

Twelve months ago, I sat in my chair looking out over a snow covered Muskoka thinking that I might move house. Perhaps somewhere a few miles down the road with a little more land and a place for a bigger and above ground studio. I didn’t get out much and when I did, I didn’t go far. Leaving made me anxious. I looked at the borders of my home as full of everything I might need, until it wasn’t.

Muskoka is 1500 miles in my rear view mirror and the grey and pink granite is replaced with red sandstone. I catch my breath when I think about how my life has undergone a change not unlike the way an earthquake distorts and changes the land beyond recognition. And yet, what I thought was weak, was strong.

With my studio in boxes after a very successful Spring and a People’s Choice Award to send me on my way, I had the opportunity to explore another part of my creative self through writing. I got to explore the old buildings in my paintings in words and wrap the images in stories that gave them another dimension. I think this was something I needed to foster in order to make the most of what the year was to bring. I did things this year that I thought would be impossible for the girl living in her Muskoka world. I had to go forward. I thought the tears would never end before the cord was cut. But then after, I rarely looked back. The road beckoned me and I was seduced by the unknown.

Oklahoma.

The harshness of Steinbeck’s Oklahoma is still beneath the surface. The extremes of its weather and the intensity of the soil tempered only by the gentleness of the people who live on the hard, scarred land. The desert meets the plains. Trees twist and curl their silhouettes into a sunset coloured by red dust. Lush fields and stark plains merge in this place, a place with a heart that has been torn out more than once and whose blood is absorbed by the soil every time.

The center of Oklahoma City is still heavy with the horror of the bombing. I found it hard to catch my breath next to the black reflecting pond at the Memorial. The city is struggling to revitalize in what has always been a boom-bust economic climate. Its resilience revealed in the spiraling tower of light in the Art Museum only blocks away. There is a quiet energy building in the streets and its culture is growing and spreading. Oklahoma City is a place of contrasts.

The siren song of red soil brought me to the Red Rock canyon where the armadillos and water wander between the sandstone cliffs. I ran my fingers over the rough stone. Crevices created by climbers and rainstorms smelled like green caves of moss and yet there was none. The stone was a mere shell in places dissolving into ochre in my hands and staining my fingers.

And then, I feel just a little bit less anxious.

‘New beginning’ takes on a whole new meaning. Thanks to 2011 for showing me that there was something I needed to do and my finding the courage to do it.

Here’s to 2012 – The adventure is just beginning.

A Curve on the Journey

Michelle — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 13:30:24 +0000

I have been fighting a rather stubborn infection and I am on my third course of antibiotics. I am being forced to slow myself down after the business of the last six months and I find it hasn’t been easy. Inertia. An object in motion tends to stay in motion. This object needs some stillness. The threat of the infection spreading to my kidneys was enough to force me to pause.

Nature is the place where the Divine becomes visible.
~ John O’Donohue

Slowing down meant some time looking for something that might help me lift my focus from my discomfort and to raise my Spirit. Nature herself is not so accessible to me at this moment, so I downloaded this wonderful video “A Celtic Pilgrimage” by John O’Donohue, Irish poet and philosopher. He shares some of his thoughts and feelings on Celtic Spirituality while the West Irish landscape creates the backdrop. John connects much of his spiritual philosophy to nature and landscape, which resonates with me. According to O’Donohue, our dreams and our voices mark the landscape. Ancient places or the ruin of a church can carry the echoes of our prayers;

A ruin has an ancient aura about it. It also has an imprint of the presence of those who lived there once.
~ John O’Donohue

The markings on the ancient landscapes of North America are less obvious because less is left behind for us to see, so one must listen and feel more closely to become aware of their aura. This aura affects us all in different ways and we express it through our gifts. O’Donohue feels that longing for the Divine is what makes us creative.

As I wander around this new place, I see with the fresh eyes of a traveler. I suppose I am somewhat animistic in my philosophy because I believe that everything has a Spirit. I love the landscape and all things in it. I tend to populate my landscapes with characters whose stories are carried in the space in between.

Because of my status down here, my focus is turned from the ‘career’ and marketing of painting back to the roots of the art and the experience. At first I was bothered by the restrictions, but now, I see it as a gift. I am going to turn my full attention to the creative experience and find a way to share fearlessly.

John O’Donohue passed away in 2008 in his 50′s.

Settling In…

Michelle — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 20:14:09 +0000

After over 6 months of domestic upheaval, it would appear that things are finally beginning to settle down. The studio is almost ready and the idea of packing, unpacking and moving from one temporary location to another is receding into the recent past. I recommend selling one’s house before committing to a cross-border move, but I will not lie and suggest that doing so eliminates all of the problems. When I look back over everything, I sometimes wonder how I managed to survive it. And of course, one might say it is typical that I move South and they get lower than normal temperatures! Let’s hope we don’t find those lost degrees in June!

But we are here.

I am hoping that for the new year, a sort of rhythm will return to the blog and the newsletter – and my life! Living so close to Oklahoma City means I’ll get to introduce my northern readers to the OKC Museum of Art and the art scene here in Oklahoma; as well as the neighbouring states of Texas, Arkansas and New Mexico from a resident’s point of view.

I am also sure many of you will recognize the old and the new patterns that will lead up to a new series of my own paintings faster than I will and I look forward to your thoughts and comments.

True to form, though, I open with an Oklahoma ruin (some of you may have caught it on Facebook!). I am hoping to secure an invitation to a nearby ranch to visit a family homestead on 16,000 acres (small by Oklahoma standards) – that has me very excited! So we’ll see where things go.

Before the end of the month, it will be entertaining to review 2011 in detail. My list of goals ended up quite out of sync with what ended up happening! And yet, the spirit of them, the idea of moving forward, ended up going well beyond anything I would have imagined a year ago… The goals for 2012 will be modest in comparison, but I think it will make for the best year yet!

Now back to very last of the tidying up!

Route 66 to Oklahoma ~ Part II

Michelle — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 18:52:23 +0000

We set out on old Route 66 from the Springfield KOA in Missouri a little later than planned but after two days of very little sleep, a real campground was a gift. We were not disappointed. This section all the way from Springfield, through Kansas to Oklahoma is jam packed with great old buildings that lined the sometimes narrow trail cut by Mother Road.

Our first stop was the ruin of an old casket making factory at Plano. We paused at the crossroads and wandered through the stone walls that contained more brush than what surrounded it. The wind and the occasional passing car were the only sounds.

We continued on to Halltown and Paris Springs and found ourselves at Gary Turner’s replica of the old “Gay Parita” Gas Station. The old garage on the same site is original to 1929 and built of the rough stone that was to become more an more common as we approached Oklahoma. We pulled up in front of the Station and we were immediately greeted by Gary himself.

Gary started by handing us each a bottle of “Route 66″ soda in Black Cherry and “Route” beer, took us into the garage and started talking about his cars, local artists including well known Jerry McClanahan, whose acrylic and watercolour paintings are famous for their depictions of classic Route 66, past and present. The walls were full of classic signs and photographs from the heyday of the Mother Road; the floors covered with old refrigerators, gas pumps and a lovingly restored Ford F-5 which Gary wants to convert into a ‘wrecker’.

Gary, by his own admission, is a true “Hillbilly” and he has tried his hand at many interesting things. His kindness and willingness to greet and share his wealth of knowledge with every visitor makes him the best “must see” stop on a trip down Route 66.

He invited me to sit in his Model “A” with “Bonnie” and took my picture. He showed us how to make memories on our trip down the Mother Road by getting the autographs of those that touched us. Gary was our first.

Me and Gary

As were were getting ready to leave, Gary insisted we visit Spencer and the old steel bridge over the creek. The road through Spencer is hand troweled concrete and was in the best condition of any of the roads we traveled, including the Interstate.

It was easy to slow our pace and really get into the rhythm of the Mother Road. We forgot we had any particular destination and got lost – sometimes literally – along the winding pavement that was old Route 66. On one of the rare occasions that I was behind the wheel of our 36 foot rig, I ended up on a road that was only wide enough for me. My husband was trying to rest, but I think he ended up more stressed watching me navigate around other traffic that he decided to take over again.

Just before leaving Missouri, we entered the beautiful city of Joplin. Joplin is now known across North America, not for its position on old Route 66, but for the massive tornado that swept through it in May 2011. We lost our way and accidentally ended up in the middle of the path the tornado had taken. The city seemed to abruptly end and what had once been dozens of streets and a school were now empty fields and a few ruins. The community is still struggling to clean up and the rebuilding process is only just beginning. Many volunteers were still on site, five months later, and lots of free supplies were being handed out. A group of residents were sitting on furniture in what had once been their living room. Only a single tattered wall remained. The resilience and determination of this community is very evident. Hats off to them.

Just outside of Joplin, back on Route 66, we stopped at an old grocery. We didn’t realize it at the time, but it is an original stop on the Mother Road. The tiny entry patio and tin ceilings welcomed the traveler seeking a few supplies for the journey. It was late afternoon when we crossed Kansas border and followed Route 66 into Galena where a truck like “Mater” in the movie Cars sits in front of an old gas station. We lingered in Galena. A brick garage sat across the road, long abandoned like most of its neighbours. Faded paint covered the wall that sat in shadow not unlike the majority of the old road itself, now shadowed by the Interstate. We quietly entered Oklahoma.

The sun was setting when we finally reached Miami, Oklahoma and our last stop. The Coleman theater in Miami is a marvelous piece of architecture that opened its doors in 1929, months before the beginning of the Great Depression. Will Rogers and the Three Stooges were seen on the stage of the Coleman over the years. It has been beautifully maintained and is still active.

The Coleman Theater, Miami, Oklahoma © Michelle Basic Hendry

An RV is not always the best way to travel the Mother Road. Not only are some sections of pavement not as wide as our rig, but the conditions of that road vary widely. Had we known that in advance, we might have taken another route past Miami. Our tires straddled the pavement and we rattled so badly, we had to turn around. It took us an hour to figure out how to get back on the Interstate in the dark and I was never so relieved to pay a toll to head to Tulsa.

The darkness burst the bubble of our journey thus far and we were reminded that Jeff had to be at work in the morning. We stayed on the Interstate the rest of the way to Oklahoma City. This journey, however, is only on pause. There will be a weekend trip in the near future to finish this section of Route 66 up to our home. You see, our new home is in Yukon – a Route 66 town – and our house is only a mile distant of the Mother Road herself.

(Click on the images to see larger versions)

Home to Route 66 ~ Part 1

Michelle — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 18:51:48 +0000

I am not a morning person.

The last time I was on the road at 5:30 am was so long ago, but there I was on Friday morning stumbling into a Barrie Tim Horton’s, while Jeff filled the RV with gas. We drove into the October early morning darkness for what seemed like forever and as we began to travel the south side of Lake Ontario, the sun rose into our eyes.

Crossing the border was quick and painless and we stopped in Western New York near Buffalo for groceries. If you ever need to pick up food in that area – I must recommend Wegmans. It is as good as Longo’s in Woodbridge for selection and quality. As we set upon the interstate and headed to Jamestown, the sculptures of Buffalo lined the cloverleaf making us feel like we and the road were the ones out of place here. Perhaps, we were.

Most of Friday was spent traveling and running errands, including a stop at the outlet malls in Grove City, PA for some tax free shopping. I picked up some great stuff for prices that really made the trip worthwhile. We drove on through most of Ohio and slept in a Wal-Mart parking lot chased by 0C weather and the threat of snow. I nearly cried when I got dressed that morning – my clothes were like ice! RV travel at this time of year has its struggles…

Saturday morning was the farmland of Indiana and afternoon was St. Louis, where we joined Route 66. We only had a couple of days to enjoy the side roads and only a few of the roads would take our rig, so by the time we crossed the Mississipi we were anxious to discover the Mother Road. The transmission in our gasoline RV screamed through the Ozark section of the old 66 and I-44. The move has us pretty loaded and we had to keep our water and gas at half tank in order to make it up the hills! Our first stop was just south of the Mother Road at the Meramec Caverns.

Reputed to be the hideout of Jesse James and his gang, the tour followed the caves and their underground steams for over an hour. Each leg of the tour was lit in stages, leaving the path before us and behind us in silence and in darkness. Stalactites and stalagmites lined the cavern walls and a small waterfall whispered deep in the walls. Near the end of the tour was this great big stone waterfall that used to be the backdrop in the 1950′s for performances of God Bless America.

The sun sank quickly after leaving the caverns and we moved on quickly to an RV park in Springfield for the night.

Coming up in PART II… more of Missouri, Kansas the the first hours of Oklahoma…. Gary Turner’s Gay Parita, several near abandoned towns and roads too narrow for us and other traffic.

Down to the “Weird” Wire

Michelle — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 18:03:01 +0000

Only a couple weeks away from the move to Oklahoma, I have been reflecting a lot on home, making (or not making) art and what makes us who we are.

Going to Oklahoma is taking me 1400 miles away from all that is familiar; family, friends, my woods (a walk in a forest will be a new and very different experience from Ontario). The decision to take on a new adventure was a difficult one. I am simultaneously terrified of leaving behind the familiar and excited to experience the new. I think the personal insight and, consequently, the creative insight will be priceless.

Who we are is a moving target – just when you think you know, it changes. I think ‘knowing who you are’ is not a destination. To look at it as a static ‘place’ misses the adventure of exploration and discovery and can trap us in restrictive labels and ‘shoulds’ never allowing us to really experience ourselves.

With so much still to do, I want to share a couple of things that really got me thinking about what I need to keep in mind as I go forward. Perhaps, all of you might find it useful as well.

Artist and teacher, Lori Woodward wrote a wonderful post, “Identifying my True Niche” on breaking free of what everyone else think you should do to knowing what you need to do. She wrote it in response to reading Seth Godin‘s “We are all Weird” and excellent manifesto on the paradigm shift in culture market and how we perceive ourselves. What she said was profound and has been on my mind since I read it a week ago and will simmer there for a while. I look forward to your thoughts and feel free to share your adventures. To new roads and new discoveries!

Enjoy and see you in November…

New Horizons – Literally!

Michelle — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 20:17:28 +0000

I sat in front of this beautiful shoreline for three days.

It’s not like I ever take something so amazing for granted, but this might be the last time I visit for quite a while. This is twilight at Craigleith Provincial Park on Georgian Bay. For three days I sat watching the waves roar in. Each swell would curl and break on the slippery shale beach with near perfect clarity, the lake floor revealed as if through a lens.It was the most peaceful I have felt since Gravenhurst in July.

There may be very little peace in the short term now. The news is in. My husband and I are headed for the Oklahoma City area in October. In about two weeks I expect there will be more news on the book, more details on how things will work and a departure date. The plan is to try to follow as much of the old Route 66 as possible.

If nothing else, it is about to get interesting…..

P.S. The photo is not colour enhanced – it really shot like this. I had to lighten the exposure and slightly deepen the darks because this pink haze was so magnificently overwhelming.

Muskoka Summer Memories

Michelle — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 23:06:39 +0000

(Getting a connection to post this rather late installment took some time, so this was written at the end of last weekend. We should be back on track now!)

Sitting beneath some young white pines and watching the sun go down on the last day of my Muskoka residence, I realized that what is to come is more a mystery to me than I can ever remember.

The house has closed and the new owners have taken possession. I sit in a trailer park minutes away from my home of 11 years and I know I will miss the sweet smells of the bush, the lakes and streams which make up so much of this beautiful place. It’s not that I will not see them again, but it is possible that it may be quite a while. Over the coming weeks and as the summer wanes, my expectations of what the autumn will bring wax into anticipation for an adventure I might never have imagined. For now, I am just a little south in the city of Barrie.

The photo is from a sunset paddle in a small lake taken on the day we locked our old front door for the last time. Where my husband and I will go in the autumn is still up in the air and the possibilities that are before us are exciting and, for the moment, plentiful. We have taken up temporary residence an hour south of here for the rest of the summer. Over the coming weeks, I will share where we are likely to go and what places we plan to see while we are able to ‘travel light’.

In the meantime, I will put a special box of memories on a high shelf in my mind so that I can never be truly far away.

Doing ‘Doors Open’ Huronia and the Family Connection

Michelle — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 01:00:59 +0000

Since beginning the research on my family history, I have discovered that both my maternal and paternal sides have deep roots in Huronia. Last weekend was ‘Doors Open’ in the region and I was able to visit some wonderful locations with a family connection.

In Penetanguishene on the shores of Georgian Bay, the English set up an Anglican Church in a sea of Catholic and Huron history. In 1836, St. James On-the-Lines was named for the ‘lines’ or communication roads between Fort York and Penetanguishene. It is gorgeous and beautifully restored building with a few unusual features due to its military origins, including the fact that aisle width is considerable in order to allow the military to enter ‘four abreast’.

In a brochure that was available to visitors on site, the history of the property and a wonderful list of fascinating people and facts about the church’s history were shared, including a touching story:

There are several interesting epitaphs to be found in the cemetery. A notable one is of a child who died of diptheria, for whom pall bearers could not be found, as they were afraid of contagion. However, some Roman Catholics were found who would accept the duty. The epitaph reads:

Dear Brother, o’er your body here I weep,
One week after with you I sleep.
Four kind Papists here me laid,
The Rev. G.H. the service read.

Somewhere on these grounds lies the remains of my great, great grandfather, James Kennedy. He was killed in an accident on the French River in 1899, leaving a wife and children. I imagine they had very little money as I could not find a trace of his grave. When I asked, I was told many flat stones had sunk below grade over time. I know that after his death, his family was scattered to the winds. My great grandfather, James Jr., was left parentless at the age of 12, when his mother remarried and her new husband denied his house to James’ four children.

James Jr. returned to Huronia and found a home with a kind Catholic family. He was so moved by their care for him that he converted to Catholicism, the religion under which my Irish grandmother was raised. We don’t know exactly where the farm was, nor do we know the names of the kind people who took in my great grandfather. But we do know that he inherited a farm in that area and lived there briefly with his young family in the late twenties or early thirties. I hope to find the farm and the missing siblings of which we have only found one and her descendents in New York State.

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At the second building on our tour, we visited what was once the meeting house of Catholic men previous to WW1 and is the now ancestral home of Terry Fegarty whose family took it over and have lived in it for three generations. Between 1914 and the end of 1916, this tiny house on Cherry Street in Waubaushene served as the Catholic Church after the original church building burnt to the ground. My grandmother was born in early 1916 (she turned 95 this last winter!) and it is likely that the room in the photo at left was where the altar stood was the location of her baptism.

I came across a number of people that knew members of my family during the visit. I am hoping I be able to spend some time there this summer – perhaps even find a building that housed my family to open the next chapter in painting.

The Frogs are Back & the Mega-Quarry

Michelle — Tue, 17 May 2011 12:30:33 +0000

In 10 years I have not seen frogs in the stream next to our house. This spring, we have three… (One hopped away as I was taking the photo) Perhaps this is a good omen? Amphibians have been on the decline in Ontario and to have the Spring Peepers chirping off in the marsh and frogs in the stream is reason for celebration.

Inspired by my frogs, I went for a walk on my favourite forest trail and I was greeted by tiny fragile violets, red and white trilliums and the odd trout lily bursting from the forest floor. I sat amongst the trees and allowed the blackflies to hover (they’re not biting – yet!) and next to me on a bit of granite was the most impossibly electric green moss.

Just as I was about to leave the last part of the trail I was surrounded. By woodpeckers. One of the large pileated variety was screaming “Hey, hey, hey hey!!” and drumming the tree like a hammer, while the one behind me was dropping things on my head and whispering “Listen!” That is exactly what I need to do…

I do not often get political on this blog, but there is an issue that if it is not handled immediately has the potential to ruin some of the most valuable farmland in Canada along with the headwaters of three major watersheds in Ontario. 1.5 hours NW out of Toronto is a proposed mega-quarry. If you want to build a bridge over a stream in Ontario, you require an environmental assessment. This 8000 acre quarry according to the Ministry of the Environment does not! To understand the issue and how it will impact farmers, food, and the water quality of the entire GTA please visit the “Stop the Quarry” on Facebook or the North Dufferin Agricultural and Community Task Force website.

(*ETA – Sorry about the video – it seems to be missing!)

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I guess it is no surprise that we have sold the house?

While the frogs are moving in, we are making plans to move out. The problem is, we are not certain as to where. I am hoping that our lives will return to Earth soon… Back in the studio, now that I can actually pull everything out without preparing for showings, inspections and what-have-you, the painting for St. Stephen’s (version 2) is underway.

The frogs are hope an renewal for me. While I will grieve moving from this house – my first house – I am looking toward a very promising future -and at the very least, a few very interesting months… I am hoping that there will be frogs at the new house too.