I had a splendid time visiting the small city I once called home. I stayed with a good friend on a small island, soothed by tall trees and the sounds and scents of the ocean, but I also took the ferry “into town” to have dinner with one friend, lunch with another, afternoon prosecco and nibbles with a third, and breakfast with one more before I headed home.
Two very full days, some wonderful conversations, and in between I even managed to squeak in a visit to an art exhibition at the Nanaimo Art Gallery. I posted more photos of this show on Instagram. Gorgeous, thought-provoking, sensuous, culture-bridging work. You might be surprised what a small city can offer (and so much less busy in the gallery, so there’s room to absorb) . . .
You will marvel at my insistence on sampling what “a small city can offer,” when you learn that despite all those meals I visited over, during my limited time, I nonetheless managed to eat one small cone of delicious gelato at anew addition to Nanaimo’s small downtown. Made on site in small batches with carefully sourced ingredients, I’d heard raves about this place, and I’ll happily add a lusty endorsement of the Raspberry-Rhubarb gelato. Plus I always think it’s cool to see someone bring a dream to fruition and build a community-based business on skill and passion.
I walked along Nanaimo’s attractive waterfront seawall to “the big ferry” yesterday, and stopped to admire this art installation at Swy-a-Lana Lagoon.
The plaque below the installation offers the title,
Driftwood Nests,
crediting artist Deryk & Samuel Houston
and noting that the installation “allows people to enjoy the natural shapes of driftwood and nature. When you study the lines in the wood, it is easy to discover faces, stories and movement as the light changes, creating new shadows and possibilities.”
Driftwood Nests is part of Nanaimo’s laudable “Temporary Public Art Program.” I love this recognition — as in the Vancouver Mural Festival, in my new home city — that Art not only makes life more satisfying for the immediate community, but also operates to draw in tourists who contribute to the local economy. (Yes, call me a cynic, but I’m quite certain this last factor was significant in any decision to fund a project such as this. And if that means work for artists, I’m a very happy and pragmatic cynic. So there 😉
On today’s agenda:
-This post – Check!
-Some of my personal long-form writing — Currently procrastinating, but it’s next up. . .
-Bread-sketching — My talented and generous friend spent an hour with me in her studio, and we painted a loaf of bread together — now to see if I can replicate some of the techniques on a new sketch. #Practicemakespractice, right?
-Update on my reading blog — this might get pushed to tomorrow’s list — we’ll see. . .
Before I go, I keep forgetting to tell you to watch Killing Eve. You’ll find it on Bravo, I believe, but that’s not part of our package here (not yet, at least). Instead, I bought a season subscription to the show on iTunes, and so far we’ve watched three episodes. We’re currently hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting for next week’s instalment. Clever, funny writing and the brilliant Sandra Oh is well-matched by Jodie Comer (you may have seen her in Doctor Foster, the too-young “other woman”) as a terrifyingly efficient, playful, psycopathic assassin, Villanelle. Kim Bodnia (from The Bridge), Fiona Shaw, and David Haig also contribute compelling characters. If you can’t tolerate graphic violence, this won’t be for you, but if you’re prepared to peep between fingers on occasion — or leave the room for thirty seconds — I think you’ll find this entertaining. The various settings — London, Paris, Berlin — don’t hurt either. . .
Okay, I’m going to quit procrastinating and move to the next item on my list. Always fun to chat with you, though, and if you leave me a comment, I’ll have those waiting as my reward when I’m done writing my prescribed number of words on that other screen. (I’ve heard that some of you are finding it impossible to leave a comment. One way around that, for some, has been to comment on my IG posts. You’ll also find my email address just above the banner at the top of the blog — if you’ve had trouble posting comments, I’d be curious to know that (especially whether that’s from a mobile device or not), but I doubt there’s much I can do to fix the problem. As a non-monetized blog fuelled only by my time and energy, I haven’t resources to solve technical issues, but who knows. . . .At the very least, I might be able to cut-and-paste your comment into a conversation you’re keen to join (again, I have limited resources of time and energy, so no promises).
See? I really am procrastinating!!
It was quite a visit!
It is interesting how one can find such interesting and accomplished people (artist,writers-it is the art,too,ok-,scientist,cooks,wonderful teachers,librarians,shop owners….etc),like rare gems, in very small cities and/or villages. It is always such a joy for me,to find it again and again
Dottoressa
So true, Dottoressa, such a joy! The wonderful cook, for example, that we discovered in a restaurant on a hilltop in Istria. . .
What a lovely place. Is it about the size of Ottawa?
OK, cancel that! Apparently it's much more petite – at least in population. Somehow I feel a bit Toronto just at the moment 🙂
Much smaller, yes, about 90,000, much of that strip malls and subdivisions, but in a crazy-beautiful geographic setting ANd with a quaint heritage downtown that continues to draw creative folk (currently struggling with housing, though, so that there's currently a DisconTent City — just like its bigger urban cousins)
Whenever I see Nanaimo I hear my father's voice singing a little ditty that was a cheer for Nanaimo High School (he went to school on the Prairies so I have no idea where he came across the ditty but it was always part of his "repertoire." Funny, the associations one makes with certain places.
You certainly managed to pack a lot into a couple of days – the art exhibit looks fascinating, as does the installation on the waterfront.
Frances in Sidney
I have those same peculiar but very sticky associations — the trigger functions surprisingly well, stronger over the years rather than fading. . .
I must have missed a blog posting…you were so close. Maybe next time you are in the area.
I love the installation. It’s really interesting how people have different interpretation of the same thing, and start conversations about what they think it means. We just might have to head north and check them out and sample the ice cream.
Ali
I didn't give myself much notice, had been stalling about traveling in the heat but I have friends over there I don't see often enough. I must admit, when I'm in that area, it's usually just in and out. . .
Not much reason to leave SSI in the summer, I know, but it's a very good exhibition and the ice cream is SO good. . .
What a busy time – but what fun sometimes to hurtle from one stimulating/reinvigorating/heartfilling encounter to the next. The gelateria sounds wonderful – strangely I was never huge fan of ice cream when I was younger (although I doubt I ever turned one down) but these new artisan products are fabulous, real flavours rather than chemical ones.
On the difficulty some friends are having with leaving comments – I think I have mentioned before that I cannot comment from my iPhone but I have no problem if I use my laptop – perhaps that could be an answer for them?
Have a great weekend
I had to talk myself into it — and then even once I'd decided I second-guessed, because I know the toll it takes on my energy levels. But as you say, it was stimulating and reinvigorating and heartfilling. . .
This is what I've heard from a few readers about comments — thanks for mentioning it again and for persisting in leaving your thoughts, always much appreciated.
So glad to hear you had a wonderful time. Was it very hard to leave "your" island(s) in the end?
I had some very creepy associations with relation to that driftwood installation. When looking at the first photograph, I thought I was glancing at human limbs. And when I saw the title I couldn't help but think of the Mediterranean again. Sorry for being so gloomy.
Looking forward to your next bread loaf portrait. Your perseverance really tempts me to take up my sketchbook again, but I think for the moment I will stick to sewing/stitching (so many ideas), writing (two projects in the pipeline) and my accordion which I have taken up again during the holidays. There is also hope I may be going back to university teaching, a class on Diversity (in English) for future socal workers.
Hmmmm, I can see that potential for the association you made re the driftwood. I certainly could see nothing of that on the site, in the full context. . .
Sounds as if you have plenty to do without pulling out a sketchbook — the diversity class sounds like something you'd enjoy teaching and be good at.
A busy bee who managed to collect a lot of nectar on that visit (including the gelato–yum). Sometimes I think a smaller place actually makes it easier to visit more diversified places than a larger city since things may be easier to access. Great art installations. And you even managed to get in an art lesson, too. Nicely done.
I agree with you about smaller places, depending. . . So much depends on the city and on individual priorities and on logistics and accessibility. Many who live in larger cities never manage to take advantage of the urban resources on offer.
I find the time in which I am procrastinating and allowing myself to do so to be quite joyful;).
I really enjoy hearing about your environment – even though it's not that far or different from mine it reminds me how big the world is – you describe it so clearly.
So true! Especially when it's a calculated procrastination, when you know you'll still meet the deadlines. . .
Thanks, I feel the same way, that ratio of Same to Different regarding various environments. . .
Some lovely synchronicities in our lives of late … I just returned yesterday from a lovely beach visit with friends in North Carolina. I came home resolving to spend much more time on oceans and beaches in the coming years.
And my small Midwestern town has one of those home-grown ice cream parlors where the ice cream is made "in the back." Your gelato rhapsody reminds me to drive into town tomorrow for a small cone of our local deliciousness.
Here, summer is swiftly coming to a close. I can already smell fall in the air. Makes me want to wear plaid skirts and buy new composition books. This time of the year is my true New Year.
Ann in Missouri
Oceans and beaches — they evoke something important for me. . .
"a small cone of local deliciousness" — ah, it doesn't get much better than that! Hard to smell fall in the air right now, amid so much smoke, but I have noted the fragrance of ripening (even fermenting-on-the-vine) blackberries in the air and that's a serious harbinger of cooler days to come. I feel the same way about the year truly turning with fall (and the disappearance of summer, despite my intolerance for heat, always makes me feel older, closer to my end. . . )
I second Ann's dreams of plaid skirts and new notebooks. 🙂
Now I want a plaid skirt. Why don't I have a plaid skirt anymore? And pleats, now I want a plaid pleated skirt. . . and rain, I also want rain. And when it's rained, how about some nice crisp autumn air.
I love those Driftwood Nests. I cannot summon any deep and meaningful analysis as to why I love them… I just do:) Sometimes these days I feel like kids in my classes who used to moan… "Just let us enjoy the book!"… when I asked them to analyze.
Currently deep into reading the letters of the Mitford sisters, so I'm not responsible if my prose absorbs some of their peculiarities. In fact… I hope I do absorb some. Be fun to write a few posts sounding like Debo and Nancy. Ha.
I've never had a problem commenting on your blog. Probably because I am always logged into my Google account, and I always comment that way on blogs where possible. I do know that some readers are having trouble with my blog. One reader says she thinks it's the new GDPR regulations.
So glad you love those Driftwood Nests unreservedly. They stopped me in my tracks the other day, but I'm not sure I captured them adequately in the photos. They spoke to me of childhood and beaches and summer and comfort and playful creativity all shaped into luscious open globes — magical. . .
Go for it, the Mitford post!!