This a copy of Canadian Seven artwork, and was created by me from waste material—pencil shavings, wax shavings, metal shavings, all residue from the jewelry making classroom, which, as part of my university janitor’s job, I cleaned.
Canadian Seven’s Algonquin Wilderness And Ontario's Lake Superior Shoreline
July ‘77
I took off early for the same Art Museum that I never
made it to the day before. The museum made me forget that I was broke.
I especially liked the part devoted to the works of the Canadian
Seven. At the turn of the century a group of artists got together and
mixed impressionism, abstract art, and realism in an attempt to
capture their feelings of the great north woods. They went on major
painting expeditions in Quebec's Algonquin wilderness area, and along
Ontario's Lake Superior shoreline. The results were stunning. If it
wasn't that I needed to get to the bank for one last shot at my money,
I definitely would have stayed longer.
Outside the museum, it was time to eat my last chunk of bread, so I
walked over to where there was a peaceful looking mound of green grass
and sat down. A couple young teens came up out of the trees from
behind me, and asked me if I wanted a piece of cheese to go with my
bead. They were hanging out on the other side of the trees, in a gully
next to the museum. I helped them eat their cheese and pickles.
Apparently, the fellows used the isolated gully as their home away
from home. They survived on stolen food from nearby markets.
When they invited me to hang with them, I politely declined. Ten years
ago I would have jumped at the chance. Back then I looked at
everything as a learning experience, but now, even though I was lonely
and without money, I was inclined to pursue more relevant learning
experiences, ones that didn't dead end before they got started. Once
again, I thanked the lads for their generosity, and walked away. From
the top of the hill, as I turned for one last goodbye, I noticed that
their attention had turned to practicing knife throwing. They were
trying to stick knifes in an empty potato chip canister lying on the
ground. They never did look up, and, I might add, they were terrible
knife throwers.
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