Our Daily Bird 44: Sometimes I hear them...

Da Vinci Landscape with Crows
© 2007 Lori Goldberg

I saw this painting at the Eastside Culture Crawl in Vancouver last year. There are a lot of crows where I currently live and I've been trying to look at them differently over the past few months. Less Poe and Milton. Something else. I don't know what yet.  I like how the artist saw crows not as the traditional tricksters but as helpers.

Goldberg has a strong connection to crows. She feels they have helped
her both emotionally and technically.

“When my daughter died twelve years ago at 10 months old, I would
walk the streets in an altered state, grieving a deep loss and the crows
would just be there landing in front of me or dropping stuff at me or
swooping down at me.

It was like they knew and they were trying to bring me back from the
depths of my pain and make me become more present. It worked.”

source: Grab News: Art Unfolding: featuring Painter Lori Goldberg by Rod Drown

While looking at this painting I had pieces of this poem running in my head. The crows, the painting, and Clifton's words remind me that there are those who may be experiencing the kind of extra heaviness that these long dark days of winter can bring. I hope part of that heaviness could be winged and beautiful.

sorrows
by Lucille Clifton

who would believe them winged

who would believe they could be

beautiful         who would believe

they could fall so in love with mortals

that they would attach themselves

as scars attach and ride the skin

sometimes we hear them in our dreams

rattling their skulls         clicking their bony fingers

envying our crackling hair

our spice filled flesh

they have heard me beseeching

as I whispered into my own

cupped hands       enough not me again

enough       but who can distinguish

one human voice

amid such choruses of   desire



Our Daily Bird 43: Birds & Berries

David's daily bird made me wonder: if I were a bird, which berries would I consider chocolate, and which ones, brussels sprouts?

Click to read more ...

Conversation

The conversation we had last night in Canadian Tire:

Canadian: “Hey look! It’s a Christmas moose!”

Scottish-Canadian: “That’s not a moose.”

Canadian: “Yes it is.”

Scottish-Canadian: “No it isn’t.”

Canadian: “Yes it IS.”

Scottish-Canadian: “No it isn’t. That’s a reindeer.”

Canadian: “That’s not a reindeer. That’s a moose.”

Scottish-Canadian: “It’s a reindeer!”

Canadian: “It is NOT a reindeer. It’s a MOOSE.”

Scottish-Canadian: “Why would it be a moose? Christmas has reindeer.”

Canadian: “It’s Canada. It’s Christmas. It’s a Christmas moose.”

Scottish-Canadian: [long pause] “That’s crazy.”



Our Daily Bird 42: Maybe Sparrow (Neko Case)

Neko Case's lyrics & voice + Julie Morstad's illustrations:  gorgeous, haunting, mesmerizing.

Maybe Sparrow
Neko Case (2005), from the album Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Maybe sparrow you should wait
The hawks alight 'til morning
You'll never pass
Beyond the gate
If you don't hear my warning

Notes are hung so effortless
With the rise and fall of sparrow's breast
It's a drowning diving
Back to the chorus
La di da di da di dum
La di da di da di dum

Oh my sparrow
It's too late
Your body limp beneath my feet
Your dusty eyes
As cold as clay
You didn't hear my warning
You didn't hear my warning

Maybe sparrow
It's too late
The moonlight glanced off metal wings
In a thunderstorm above the clouds
The engine hums a sparrow's phrase
Those who cannot hear the words
Those who cannot hear the words
Those who will not hear the words
La di da di da di dum
La di da di da di dum

Maybe sparrow
Maybe sparrow
Maybe sparrow

Neko Case's web site

Slant Magazine's review of Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

2011: Calendar 2: Sally Harless (Sadly Harmless)

Sally Harless is an artist in Bloomington, Indiana, who graduated with a BFA in Printmaking from Indiana University. Her work "fuses images reminiscent of children's books with the struggles of adjusting to adulthood, and often involves elements of nostalgia and humor."

Love this quirky Sadly Harmless calendar of 2011 Adventures, featuring ink and watercolor illustrations of animals venturing to places they normally wouldn't go. Dimensions: 8.5x14 inches when unfolded. $12 US.

And that fondly reminds me of this headline from The Onion: 10 Million Killed Annually By Stepping Out of Comfort Zones.

Our Daily Bird 41: Whipper, the Mutant Parakeet

A Sacred Home

Automatism by Lori Langille has long been a favorite weblog of mine.  She recently featured this long abandoned church that had been converted into a second home in Cape Town, South Africa.

It brought me back to a wonderful church conversion that was done by This Old House in San Francisco in 1997.

While some have turned old churches into wonderful summer homes and cottages, I have a simpler dream. I would love to convert an old church into a private library with the walls covered with books (and of course the obligatory rolling ladder).

Once the books are in place, give me a coffee table with a tabletop radio, a place for my dog to nap at my feet, a reclining chair to read on, and a comfortable sofa (for when I decide to join the dog for a nap).  I can't imagine a more enjoyable way to spend a winter storm in Saskatchewan.

Our Daily Bird 40: Crows and Shiny Things

The things a crow puts in his nest
they are always things he finds that shine best
somehow he'll find
a shiny dime
a silver twine
from a valentine
the crows all bring
them shiny things

leave me alone you big old moon
the light you cast is just a liar
you're like the crows
cause if it glows
you're dressed to go
you guessed I know
you'll always bring
them shiny things

well I'm not dancing here tonight
but things are bound to turn around
the only thing
I want that shines
is to be king
there in your eyes
to be your only
shiny thing

November 11: Poppies

Photo: Thomas Lieser via flickr/creative commons

I have been wearing my poppy for over a week now. I spotted the change bucket and the little pile of red plastic flowers while waiting in line at the bank. I put in my money and attached my poppy to the left side of my jacket - the simple act of pinning brings many memories:

• elementary school and the shock of learning that people killed each other in such terrible ways
• the neat little rows of the poem In Flanders Fields, hand-copied by fellow students onto ruled paper and then stapled onto school bulletin boards:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row

• the RCMP officer, my next door neighbor, standing in dress reds at the local cenotaph. How could he stand still so long?
• taking the poppy apart at recess, putting the red part in our mouths, making fake lips and then wondering if we had done something wrong.
• watching all the red flowers go by as people walk down the street. If you just look at the flowers, it looks like the poppies are carrying  people across crosswalks, along the street, and into buildings and cars.
• one year in Paris for Remembrance Day. Poppy red against a black jacket. I turn to look north towards the D-Day beaches.

The poppy won't let you forget. Its long, straight pin sticks out of your jacket, catching on the sleeves or shoulders of other poppy wearers. It finds fingertips when you go to get dressed. It pokes you in the back when you lay your jacket over a chair. It constantly works its way loose and drops to the floor where people find it and say, "Excuse me, you dropped your poppy," and you put it on again. You are always checking to see if it is still there.

War is always failure. There is nothing glorious about it and the red flower reminds me of that and the hard work of peace that I must do in my own heart.

Our Daily Bird 39: Bird With A Berry

A poem by one of the founders of the League of Canadian Poets (no word as to whether he helped design the matching spandex costumes), 1964 Governor General's Award winner, Raymond Souster.  It's good to know birds have these sorts of days too.

Bird With A Berry

A bird with a berry
big as it's head tries
to carry it across
the back grass, gets halfway
then drops it.
                      When I ask him
why he doesn't pick it up again
he answers, "I'm just not
in the mood and besides
I'd probably only choke on the damn thing anyway,"

Which only proves birds
are no better than humans
at answering questions.

(c) Raymond Souster, 1977

Click to read more ...

2011: Calendar 1: Atherton Lin

We featured Atherton Lin last year. Here's the offering for 2011:

Across the Sea: 16.50 USD plus shipping

Geographies real and imagined, collections of small intrigue and landscapes of longing combine to tell stories of travel and wanderlust. ACROSS THE SEA is the new installment of the Atherton Lin narrative, a wall calendar for the year 2011 and a journey of high adventure and perpetual adolescence. As usual, it is hand drawn in watercolour and reproduced to high standard in London, England.

The calendar measures 230mm high x 297mm wide, litho printed with vegetable-based inks on heavy matte 100% recycled paper. Printed by Calverts Co-op in East London

 

Our Daily Bird 38: The Intelligence of Crows

This afternoon I left a bag of groceries outside in the snow to make some space for them in the freezer.  I came upstairs to an odd sound - was the cat outside, scratching at the door?  No.  It was an enormous crow, or maybe even a raven, pecking at the frozen chicken.  Erg.

The upside of that encounter was that it reminded me of this TED talk by Joshua Klein, on the intelligence of crows.  He's developed a vending machine for crows that explores the possibility of changing our mutual relationship for the better.  In his own words: 

A decade ago a friend told me it’d be impossible to get crows to do anything useful, and that killing them all off would be better. Finally, I did something about it to prove him wrong.

Synanthropes are animals that live near humans, and they’re an unusual type of species of which crows are an unusually smart example. The crowbox is a means of creating a mutually beneficial relationship with them – instead of trying to destroy them.

 Oh, and one last thing - Joshua Klein is on Twitter: @joshuaklein.

Calendar Roundup

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.

-Annie Dillard, The Writing Life, chapter 2, 1989

It is time to look at our favorite calendars found in Hedges around the world. If we need a lifeboat in the wreck of time, it might as well be an inviting one. Stay tuned.

Our Daily Bird 37: Red Bird Battalion

Love this beautiful Red Bird Battalion, by illustrator Jaime Zollars (twitter: @jaimezollars).

Good Music: Black Dub

Daniel Lanois is a man who just doesn't quit. I remember watching him perform, a few years back, on the Canadian Juno Awards. Not even halfway into his song, his guitar amp failed. He quickly brought his guitar up just under his chin as he sang, tilting his head back between phrases so the mic could pick it up. He didn't miss a single note. Now, just a year shy of his 60th birthday and a mere 5 months after a motorcycle accident nearly took his life, the multiple Grammy award-winning producer & singer-songwriter proudly debuts the first album from his fresh-faced new collective, Black Dub.    

Black Dub joins Lanois and long-time studio compatriots Brian Blade (drums) and Darryl Johnson (bass) with vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Trixie Whitely to create a hypnotic, intoxicating blend of reggae, blues, and soul. Their eponymous debut, released Nov 2, was largely recorded live off the floor in single takes. Blade and Johnson, possessing a chemistry forged through years of collaboration, lay down a sinuous rhythmic backbone for Lanois' masterful guitars, and spreads of soulful keys, while Whitely's blues-tinged croons and wails, ably supported by Lanois and Johnson, provide a raw, rich finish, every note dripping with soul. From the explicit dub of their lead single, "I Believe In You", through the slow-burn of "Surely", to the frantic ambience and three-way vocals of "Ring The Alarm", this is heady stuff - a sonic gumbo just made for headphones. 

Do yourself a favour and have a taste.

Our Daily Bird 36: The Falcon

The Falcon from The Shamptonian Institute on Vimeo.

The Falcon is a stop-motion film composed entirely of macro-photographed hardware pieces from disassembled vintage/antique cameras.  Visit thefalcon.tv for the full story/synopsis. 

From The Shamptonian Institute, a nonprofit humanitarian organization that also "actively engages in the archival preservation of cultural media and ephemera".  You can find them on Twitter: @shamptonian

Friday's Final Word

The poet Rainer Maria Rilke (from On Love and Other Difficulties):

"Ah! But verses amount to so little when one writes them young. One ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness a whole life long, and a long life if possible, and then, quite at the end, one might perhaps be able to write ten lines that were good.

For verses are not, as people imagine, simply feelings (those one has early enough) – they are experiences. For the sake of a single verse, one must see many cities, men and things, one must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents whom one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one not grasp it (it was a joy for someone else); to childhood illnesses that so strangely begin with such a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars – and it is not yet enough if one may think of all this.

One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises.

And still it is not yet enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not till they have turned to blood within us, to glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves – not till then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them."



Our Daily Bird 35: Patricia Waller

Bird in the Hand: Yarn, cotton wool, wire; crochet, length 20 in.; 2006

Patricia Waller lives and works in Berlin, crocheting her funny and provocative version of the world.  You should take a peek at her other work (as long as you don't faint at the sight of crocheted blood).

A sense of place

Two views of autumn from two different bridges, 100 kilometers, 24 hours, and a world apart:

"A sense of place is the sixth sense, an internal compass and map made by memory and spatial perception together.” —Rebecca Solnit

This quote is pulled from the page of one of my favourite features on the Orion Magazine website: The place where you live. Someday, after I've done more deep thinking, searching and writing (hard but necessary work, a worthwhile 24 hours alone project),  I hope to contribute an essay there. For now, the first draft, which I started composing while walking under the city bridge last night, consists only of a list of essential elements: flora, fauna, water, mountains, sky, sunlight.

A few more words about the last element, sunlight: I prefer the early morning Autumn light, sometimes silvery, sometimes golden, soft, gentle and slow. Two memories come to mind. Nine years ago, in a clearing along the Grouse Mountain trail: sunlight glittering through branches, creating a golden glow that filled the space. I felt like I'd stumbled upon a sacred place. And last Sunday morning, while driving back to the city: silver shafts of sunlight breaking through clouds to meet the mist rising from the farm fields - a luminous, diaphanous joining of earth and sky.

I'm beginning to understand the quote. Yes, place is within you -- it's deep knowing, deep connection, the sixth sense. And that sense is helping me feel, finally, at home and at peace within the city where I live.

Our Daily Bird 34: Anna Lee Keefer

Italianate

the brown birds of coffee utopia

7"x 9" metal mosaic- metal and nails on panel

Candyball

sweet and sharp

8″x 12″ metal mosaic- metal and nails on panelYou can see more of Anna Lee Keefer's work at her website (go often; there's lots of mind-tickling art to see and she updates regularly).  You can also get acquainted on Twitter: @annaleekeefer.