We’ve had a glorious September and October here in Vancouver, but it does seem that our run of wonderful weather has come to an end, and the watersheds will soon be replenished. . . Fog crept in these last few days, and last evening “the rains” began. . . Not heavy yet, but I’m guessing grey and wet will be on the menu in pretty steady rotation for the next few months. . .
But before I begin grumbling about my dripping umbrella, I have some photos from recent walks in the neighbourhood. It was sunny when I took these, but you can well imagine this mural and the one in the photos below will brighten up the greyest, wettest days as well. . . .
This mural is one of three by Danielle Krysa, playing on the theme of HRH “Liz” getting caught up in the selfie craze. . . I had the privilege of hearing Krysa speak during the Vancouver Mural Festival, and her passionate commitment to broadening notions of Capital-A Art to include women’s contributions is inspiring. (Check out her Big Important Art Book (Now with Women!)
A few blocks away, a back lane is brightened by colour and pattern and by messages that celebrate diversity and inclusiveness
This mural, which stretches down the lower length of a building and ’round its corner, was painted by female Muslim artist Doaa Jamal. An article in an online Muslim news site notes that “the mural, entitled ‘Why can’t they see us?’, draws on verses of the Quran that speak to the diversity of creation and learning from our differences, utilizing a modern version of the traditional Kufic Arabic script. Many members of the Muslim community came out to help with the painting, meet one another and build relationships around a shared love for art and expression.”
And this article posted by Simon Fraser University’s Centre for Comparative Muslim Studies includes a video showing the mural being created.
Check out Doaa Jamal’s own photo of her mural along with her description/explanation of what it represents for her here, on Instagram
And a few blocks away, the urban- industrial nature of the neighbourhood has its own stark beauty in the late-afternoon sun. . .
Something about these leaves, fallen on a windowsill, just below the reflection of the tree they’ve fallen from and another just across the street. . . .
And then yesterday, we headed off in a more residential direction, where the words “urban forest” came to mind. . .
The fairy-tale charm (with the fairy-tale’s dark edge of poison temptingly wrapped) of Amanita mushrooms, this polka-dotted Fly Agaric (common name) nestled up against a boulevard tree. . . and I couldn’t help wonder about the mycorrhizal network undergirding the city, all the tree roots and fungal threads woven in centuries-old patterns below the ashphalt. . .
And of course I couldn’t help hearing echoes of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem, when I saw this “wanwood leafmeal” . . .
I’m preparing for some solo travel next month, planning to walk some faraway neighbourhoods with my camera (my iPhone camera, that is) and my sketchbook. But sometimes it’s good to look in my own back yard with a traveler’s eye. Hope you enjoyed this walk in my ‘hood. . .
I could only admire your well developed,cherished and beautiful street Art.
Wow,I wanted to start with the beautiful dots , but it seems that some poisons are kept not only in small bottles but with the dots as well.
I'm afraid that our weather would be cold and wet too, in a couple of days -it was amazing,so far
I guess you'll be on the other side of our "pond" next month
Dottoressa
You don't have to guess anymore! I will be making my way down from Edinburgh to visit a certain little girl 😉
It is so beautiful right now. Rain last night but lovely today. Street art is very powerful!
Adore the "Why can't they see us?" mural by the female Muslim artist Doaa Jamal using Quran verses. Verse 48:13, "We have created you from male and female, and made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another," is a painful contrast to the realities we face today. At first I thought this was a First Nations' quote. We began as tribes, with no way of communicating our origin stories and our beliefs, and yet we created so much more in common than different. I abhor the move toward a negative tribalism I am seeing. Last week I read a 1971 Mavis Gallant New Yorker article about a teacher and student in France, she 31 and he 16, and their tragic affair. Gallant did an extraordinary job of describing the homogeneous French culture of 1971 that France now seems to wish to return to, sans outsiders. She was describing it as opposed to U.S. culture, which differed significantly by geographic area, as it does now. When I was young, I pictured a world in which we increasingly assimilated into a global culture—I mourned the potential loss of singularity of place—but my imaginings did not include the possibility of a backlash taking us the opposite direction. I've been ill, and I've spent time watching Foyle's War for the fourth or fifth time. The parallels between then and now are frightening. Thank you for the beauty and for the food for thought.
Isn't it a lovely verse? And the mural and the forces involved in getting it on the wall, to brighten that back lane are such welcome counters to this negative tribalism you speak of — I believe there is still a strong momentum toward diversity and inclusiveness and heterogeneity, but it's being challenged in frightening ways, and we need to keep our commitment active and visible. . .
Lovely, lovely pictures, Frances. Fall has such a powerful effect on me. It's impossible not to see the parallels between this season and people of our tenure. We're moving toward the end. But we're still glowing brightly and surprising ourselves and others in ways no one (including us) expected. Traveler's eye, yes. And, again, child's eye.
Ann in Missouri
Exactly. Those parallels. . .
And oddly, this past week or two, looking out onto my terrace garden, I've found myself looking forward to the leaves being stripped completely from the trees. . . to seeing the bare trunks and branches for what they are. . .
Lovely photos, Frances. Especially the one of the reflection of the tree. Now wouldn't that shot work wonders as a writing/thinking prompt for kids in my former English class. We used to use photos and all manner of weird objects as ways to understand symbolism/imagery/and then poetry.
Ha! Yes, I do that too, still. Think of how something I see or read or hear of would work to build a class around. . . That creative part of the work I miss (marking, not so much).
I love Doaa Jamal`s mural. I found the video about the making of and now I am wondering how to integrate it into my class on diversity. Perhaps I'll start by giving my students the Quran verse without telling them the source and let them guess where it may be taken from…
And I love that her mural might be having an effect on students so far away. . . and that I played a tiny part in that. . .
You guys really are the champions of murals! I love the polka dots.