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A Grandfather, A Daughter and A Grandson

When I stroll through the rooms of our house, it becomes clear that there are family connections shining through the art on our walls. We both come from creative people. Some of these people made art as a hobby, some as a profession. Their influence has been strong. In many ways. Influence as guidance through various decision making escapades. Influence as providers of comfort and a sense of home. Influence as surprise – both theirs and ours – at what a piece of art can really give. I am especially fond of a couple of watercolours my mom did a few years ago. She had taken up painting as a hobby and brought a stack of her work to show me on one of her visits. I think she was a bit taken aback when I selected two to keep – they had not really been offered. They hang in our living room because I love them. And, I love that she has chosen this activity to both express and amuse herself in her retirement years. As her father did before her, with oils. As I might well attempt a few years from now. A hobby that surprises, offers beauty and fills time with a worthy pursuit.


There is also a strong multi-generational vein of creativity in Bryan’s family. His grandfather Frank, his mom’s father, was a man he barely knew, having died when he was very small. But his influence has been powerful. There are stories of him lying on the floor in the dark, head positioned between his hi-fi console stereo speakers listening to opera with complete attention. This sounds very much like something Bryan would, and does, do. Those records are in our collection, old 78s that we don’t have the capacity to play anymore, but are valued nonetheless. Bryan’s mom continued his musical immersion. He fondly remembers her playing piano in the evenings after his bedtime. Consequently, he has no trouble floating off to sleep if I decide to do some late night playing! Frank was also a photographer. Not just the usual family snapshot type, but a man who understood composition and atmosphere, light and shadow. We only have a few of his photographs, but they are a beautiful reminder of where Bryan comes from and the possibilities of seeing more than just the surface of any view.





Frank’s daughter is also an artist. Bryan’s Aunt Liz has been an influence for as long as I can remember, and certainly as long as Bryan can remember. She is his special aunt. As I recounted in an earlier chapter, he spent a summer with her attending art camp as a teenager. She encouraged him, she inspired him. As I got to know her, it was clear that she was a special soul – one that has become dear to me and we have had many meaningful visits, conversations and moments filled with deep emotion and care. We are so very fortunate to have a number of her paintings and prints in our collection. The prints are mostly from her university days. She may not remember giving them to us, but we have these lovely glimpses into her development in our care. They are of bottles and buttons and apples…everyday things carefully incorporated into images that speak of more than the specifics. Things that remind us of place and time and the need to look beyond the ordinary, and into its potential for beauty.



Auntie Liz paints with abandon. Swirls of colour. Flowers and gardens and ladies and seeds. Things that grow. Things that are strong. Each of these paintings require both thoughtful and joyful responses. Immediate reactions to the life that swirls within.



We look at the painting entitled, Seeds That Go Bump In The Night, and think - of course they do. And what results these seeds achieve. We gaze at Eva’s Space, and find a glorious vision of a garden. Eva was Liz’s mom, Bryan’s maternal grandmother. This garden paints a picture of the kind of place she loved to be; a place to reside in beauty that grows and blossoms and fills our summer days with colour. We are lucky to have one of Eva’s peony plants in our garden, brought home on a plane in a coffee can following her death many years ago. When it blooms each year, it also becomes her space.


And finally, a wonderful painting of women holding hands; endlessly connected. On the canvas and beyond. Liz has done a number of these, and I love them. They speak to the strength of these connections, the strength of those bonds that can carry us through whatever we encounter. This particular one is called, Market Day #1. Perhaps it is about support in ordinary tasks like going to the market, or maybe it is about how we support our sisters’ pursuits. Whatever it is, it encourages a kind of encircling of all. Connections that cannot be broken. This is Auntie Liz to us, her art and her self.


These are Bryan’s earliest influences. He has built a career in a creative field upon the foundations they have provided. He has enjoyed the immensity of art, architecture and music; enjoyment that grew from seeds sown by these souls. He has found solace and joy in the creativity that exists in this world, seeking it out as respite, comfort and inspiration. And he has photographed what he has seen. In great numbers his photographs have been taken. His grandfather did not have the ease of the digital era, developing his own photos in a darkroom, but Bryan does. And so, he records what captures his eye. Looking for details that compel and astound, amuse and bewilder. We don’t have many of Bryan’s photos on our walls, but there are three that are from our first joint visit to Chicago many, many years ago (shot, at the time, with film!). Of course they are of architecture. They may be just bits of buildings, but they conjure up a great deal. Memories of that trip, memories of architecture school when these buildings were first discovered, memories of the many places and buildings seen since. Memories of where the love of creativity began. We all come from somewhere. We grow from those seeds. We treasure what has been nourishing. We see, we document, we remember.



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