Michelle (Basic) Hendry - Fine Art

The Abandoned ‘White House’

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abandoned house

Since my last post before the hiatus, I have more than accomplished what I set out to do. I finished five paintings, the last edits on the manuscript, a trip home and a trip to the Ozarks. Not bad!

I have learned that, for me, writing and painting are both necessary for creative fulfillment. I seem to get more accomplished when I feed both – although not at the same time! It swings like a pendulum and I try to keep up.

My friend and artist, Anita Stephenson, shared a book with me by the well known author and ‘writing guru’, Natalie Goldberg. The book is called “Living Color,  A Writer Paints Her World”. Goldberg talks about how she tried to stop painting in order to focus on mastering her first passion – writing. Through the process she discovers how much her writing is assisted by her other creative outlet and that the expression and tools of art help her to see into her writing.

What both of these occupations have in common is the need to observe – one with the eye, the other with the mind’s eye translated into words.

So I have a question for artists and other creatives out there – musicians, writers, performing artists:

Do you have a single creative passion? Or is your creativity fed like the system of a binary star – with two or more ‘feeds’? (Just to clear up what I mean – do you have more than one creative OUTPUT and do they feed each other?)

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So what about this painting? (Hidden, 8×10, acrylic on linen)

This one is of the “White House” in Ufford, Muskoka. Yes, the house in this composition is not white, but I think it is because the porch is missing. The walls above it and all around are white! Ken Veitch grew up in the is house and the story of my visit there is coming up in my book. There is a blog post on the visit from November 2009.

Work in Progress & Japan

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Work in Progress

Work in Progress - The View - 24x36 © 2011 Michelle Basic Hendry

This is the latest work in progress. It is a big one and it took some planning. Small things become glaring at 24×36 inches and I changed the composition and the canvas twice. I think I am finally happy.  Now the visible progress begins.

Details in a ruined house are a part of the composition, not incidentals to me. Peeling wallpaper, cracking paint, rotting floors – all these elements of slow decay are the painting. This one goes a bit further, incorporating the view of the abandoned farm. It will be a challenge to keep the details at the right concentration. So we will see how it goes…

I admit that it has been slow going. I have been torn away by all of the events and the news surrounding Japan. The shock of the utter devastation is not yet worn off. Events will continue to unfold for the people of Japan for many weeks to come before the rebuilding, emotionally and physically, begins; a reconstruction that will likely take years, even decades. I am overwhelmed and moved by the calm of the people amidst the incomprehensible suffering they are experiencing.

Nature always returns to claim her own. Sometimes it is with a slow absorption and an almost elegant creativity, other times it is abrupt and destructive. The cycles of Nature are reflected in many cultures and in the case of the 2004 tsunami, Kali comes to mind. In Japanese Shinto (The Way of the Gods), Susano-ô, a god of storms and destruction seems to be the deity that has raised his domain, Yomi-tsu Kuni (Land of Darkness), on the north-eastern coast of Japan.

In time, all our tears are absorbed into the ocean, our bones into the rocks and soil. I grieve with the Japanese people and look forward to when the sun smiles and when the flowers grow again.

My love and thoughts are with you all and in particular my friend living in Tokyo, Alexander. You are strong and courageous, my friend…

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Happy 95th birthday to my Grandmother and Happy St. Patrick’s Day to everyone.

New Painting "Waiting"

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Waiting
Waiting – Red Chair, 16×20, acrylic © 2010 Michelle Basic Hendry

This is the bay window at the abandoned Livingstone Stephens house near Bracebridge. This one was a tough one, technically – for its complicated interior architecture; emotionally because these old places I have come to know have touched me; and due to ‘life’ around the timing that the idea came, including a grandparent’s passing. The chair I originally photographed was brown, but, I felt it needed to be red. I am not entirely sure why at the moment, but, it wasn’t simply an aesthetic choice. Eventually, I am sure I will fully understand. Time has a way of letting things reveal themselves.

It is in this room that 90 year old Elva (Stephens) Bowes’ grandfather spent his last days. I like to think that he spent time sitting in front of the windows in this room, watching life on the farm go by. I imagine the windows open, bringing in the last of a long ago summer breeze. Perhaps the room had those gauzy curtains gently drifting and the rustle of leaves is the only noise in a house, that in Elva’s grandfather’s time, was without the hum of electricity.The old man sits quietly, waiting for the family to come in from the fields.

Now, the chair is empty, waiting for someone to return. Little by little the house disintegrates further like water into the fissures of stone. Nearly, 120 years after the first brick was laid, it may only be a short few years before the integrity of the roof is lost and water will seep into its many cracks. The home of a big and active family, the home built by the tragic character that found gold in Muskoka and lost his love to drink, will pass into history.

For now it waits.

An Empty Chair…

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Bay Window
Photograph of Bay Window at Livingstone/Stephens House © 2010 Michelle Basic Hendry

The insistent River of Time flows downstream and eventually its contents disperse in the Sea of the Universe. My husband lost his beloved Grandmother yesterday. The world, for him, is somehow diminished without her presence. His focus is now on the gathering of images and memories of one of his favourite people in the world. Another house has an empty chair.

Before the news came, I returned to the Livingstone/Stephens House. I was seeking new photographs to use as reference for a painting that I want to do for the granddaughter of Richard and Belle Stephens. She had liked “Window Seat” (below) which had sold before we connected. There is another beautiful window I thought I should try (above). Apparently, her great grandfather would sit in this same room in a chair by the window and watch the comings and goings of the farm into his 90’s nearly 70 years ago.

I brought a different chair with me to the old house this time.  As I was setting up to take the photo of the bay window, I began to notice how abused the house had become in the last year. Someone had come through on a recent, and futile, search for copper. The house had long ago been stripped of most of its valuables. All that resulted was further damage to the fragile walls, the disappearance of the last remaining window panes and a deepening loneliness that comes from a house with no one to care for it. Shocking really, when one considers the eminence of its previous residents; first, the builder of some of Bracebridge’s first public buildings and then a reeve. Even more significant, the first resident of the house found gold in Muskoka heralding in a brief gold rush in Gravenhurst. It was likely this gold that afforded this house so much more decorative carpentry than most any other farm house of its age I have found in the region. When the painting is complete later in August, I will finally share the whole story as I have it to date, here on the blog.

Window Seat
“Window Seat”, 14×18, acrylic © 2009 Michelle Basic Hendry

Our lives are summed up by a bunch of furniture and photographs and for those that knew us well – memories. But, past a certain point for many of us the story ends. On the surface, the chair remains empty, but, I believe that on a deeper, invisible level, all those chairs left behind carry much more than wood and cushions. From my own Grandfather that passed away in 2008, I inherited two chairs. One had been in the family for most of the last century, the other, I am not so sure. When I look at those chairs, I think of him and if he visits, I am sure he sits in one of those chairs.

I had believed last year would be my last visit to the Livingstone/Stephens house. This visit, the house felt somehow more empty. It didn’t speak but it did offer what may be its final gift to me. And so I took my pictures and said my goodbye.

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