“I just like people to come here and enjoy what I’ve done, look around the gallery and just appreciate something new,” says chainsaw carver Kevin Lewis of his outdoor gallery, with one of his newest carvings, a cougar.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

If you’re driving along Forbidden Plateau Road these days, you may have spotted the newest addition to carver Kevin Lewis’ front yard—a towering cougar come to life from a tree felled by a friend in Comox.  The animal stands stretched on its hind legs, head peering over the top of the log and paws draped in front.  Its tail flows down the back following the grain of the wood in a sinuous and life-like curve.  In fact, the wooden animal is about the same size as an actual cougar, and if you stand beneath his gaze you might just get the sense the dangerous predator is watching you.

It is a remarkable sculpture, made all the more spectacular by the fact that it was carved with a chainsaw.  The cougar, though, is just one in a menagerie of real and fantastical creatures that make-up Lewis’ work and fill his front yard gallery.  Dragons, fairies, turtles and bears are just a few of the things that peek out of the landscaping, and show their creator’s talent with a tool most of us have only seen used to cut things up.

Granted, cutting things up is how it all started.

“I started carving when I started falling trees,” says Lewis matter-of-factly.  “I knew I was going to need another lifestyle.  Fallers are a dying breed.”  Of course, that’s only the first part of the story.

“I always collected the small lead figures (the kind used in fantasy role-playing games) and painted them.  Then as I was falling and running the chainsaw I just wanted a big one,” says Lewis with a laugh.  “Nobody did chainsaw carvings of fantasy figures.  All I saw was bears and eagles everywhere.  I just wanted more mystical creatures—gargoyles, unicorns, dragons.  And I couldn’t afford to buy them.”

His first large piece, in 1997, was a gargoyle he carved using his big falling saw.  A dragon soon followed.

“From then on I was hooked,” says Lewis.  He invested in carving bars—fine nosed blades that allow for much better detail than a regular chainsaw blade—and never looked back.

At first the carving was just a hobby, a way to bring the many fantasy worlds and creatures in Lewis’ imagination to life.  Then came an opportunity to move to Newfoundland.   Lewis made the decision to leave logging and make a living carving.  He packed up his van, his dog and his chainsaw and drove across the country.  Once in Newfoundland, he parked the van at the side of the road, got himself some driftwood and a generator, and started carving.

The response from Newfoundlanders was immediate and strong.  Lewis suspects it has to do with the fact that typical Newfoundland yard art includes plywood shapes and figures.

“So when they saw sculptures…” says Lewis, his voice trailing off with the bemusement of someone still surprised by how successful he’s been.

In Newfoundland Lewis took to carving smaller pieces, focusing on the dwarves, fairies and the mystical creatures he loves.  His goal was volume and affordability.

“The $80-$100 price range was my bread and butter,” says Lewis.  “It kept me going. They’re so poor out there, but they’d spend that money on a small dragon for their yard.” Occasionally someone would spend several hundred dollars on larger pieces.  This came in especially handy the day Lewis’ chainsaw died, leaving him to wonder how he was going to support himself if he couldn’t carve.

“A guy came in and bought something like $600 worth of my work,” says Lewis.  “Just like that I had enough to buy a new chainsaw.”

Then there were the requests.  “I had a fellow show up with a block of wood and two burls on it and he said ‘I see an ET in this boy’,” says Lewis, putting on a Newfoundland accent.  “I’ve done Yodas, ETs—a bit of everything.”  He was even asked to people’s homes to carve the stumps of old yard trees—something he still does today.

In spite of his success in Newfoundland, and the great practice he got turning out hundreds of pieces, Lewis eventually felt the desire to come back home to the Comox Valley where he grew up.  He put his chainsaw and dog back in the van, took a detour through the United States, and came back to the Island to start falling again.

This isn’t to say Lewis was done with carving.  Instead, the faller lifestyle—and a conscious decision to keep his bills to a minimum—let Lewis spend part of the year in the woods working and the rest of the year carving the wood he collects from his job’s reject pile, on the beach or from friends.

It’s a balance that seems to work.  In 2005, he used his time off to travel to Toronto to visit his cousin, a fellow chainsaw carver.  Just like Newfoundland, the trip was something of an eye-opener.  The two of them worked side-by-side, Lewis making his fantasy creatures and his cousin creating more typical chainsaw art: bears.

“When I started carving, I swore I would never carve a bear,” says Lewis.  It was what everyone else was carving, and didn’t appeal to his fantasy tastes.  Knowing this, Lewis’ cousin challenged him to a sales comparison, and when they added up their receipts Lewis had sold $6,000 in fantasy figures to his cousin’s $30,000 in bears.

“So after that my cousin said you have to learn to carve a decent bear,” says Lewis with some ruefulness.  Lewis did learn from his cousin, and the decision opened up his repertoire and range of buyers.  One of his most popular and talked about pieces today is an octopus carved from a piece of yellow bird’s eye cedar with multiple burls, and done at a friend’s request.  Photos of the piece show how Lewis matched the natural curves and fluidity of the sea animal to the curves and grain of the burls.  The creature is gorgeous in its detail, right down to the abalone eyes, and looks ready to move along the ground.

The funny thing about Lewis and his work, though, is he has no formal training and even scoffs at his own artistic abilities.  “I’ve never taken an art class,” he says.  “I have no artistic skills that I know of aside from running with the chainsaw.  If I draw out a plan of what I want to carve, it looks like little stick figures everywhere.”

Instead, Lewis finds images of what he wants to do and just goes from there.

“I’ll look at the pictures for the first 20 minutes of my carving,” explains Lewis.  “It seems like it takes me about 20 minutes—which is one full tank of gas—of just chipping at the block of wood and then after that it’s just like I’m reading the best book ever.  I start flipping the pages and the story unfolds.

“And once I see that in the wood, there’s no stopping.  I just go hard.”   In Toronto he completed a large dragon in one 18-hour marathon session, stopping only for some food and water.

“But once I get going on a piece it is very quick,” says Lewis.  “Because in chainsaw work you move the wood fast.  Get the wood out of the way.  Get those pieces to bring out that form and that creature I am trying to bring out in the wood.  The faster the better.”

In fact, visualization plays a huge role in Lewis’ work.  “If I go driftwood hunting I look for noses and faces,” says Lewis.  “Say you see a big root on the beach and you look for a nose, the next thing you know the face follows.  So I try and look for noses and a lot of times it might be the nose of a dragon or some fairy creature.  It seems if I start with the thing that protrudes the most on the creature then I’ll see a flow in the wood.  That’s how I look for things.”

He also spends a lot of time moving his hands in the air, mimicking his saw blade.

“I don’t want to start it until I’ve got in my head my moves,” he says.  “When I start moving my hands like little karate chops, I just see how I want the piece to form, where I’m going to do my cuts.  It’s almost like training in my mind.”

That preparation shows up in the quality of Lewis’ work.  Lewis is determined that every piece he does is the best he can possible do.  He pours his love of fantasy and chainsaw carving into each piece.  And he wants the people who buy his work to love it back.

“The thing is with me I think it turned out so well because I carve what I’m really interested in and what I’m passionate about,” says Lewis.  “I think if I were just to get into chainsaw carving and try and carve bears I wouldn’t be as good of an artist.  If I’m doing bears and eagles I’m making them my own.”

“I just like people to come here and enjoy what I’ve done, look around the gallery and just appreciate something new,” he continues.  “There is so much stress in life and people don’t go outside of that.  Fantasy opens up doors of possibilities for people, and broadens their range of thinking.”

To view Kevin Lewis’ work, visit his outdoor gallery at 4010 Forbidden Plateau Road, Courtenay. Admission is by donation and tours are welcome.  For more information visit his website at: kevinlewiscarvings.ca.

4Cats Art Studio

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

Walk into the 4Cats Art Studio at the corner of Comox Avenue and Anderton Road in Comox, and you know you’ve found a space for kids to be creative.

The walls are papered in paintings and sketches, from floor to 15-foot ceilings.  The shelves sit filled with paper maché and clay projects.  Cupboards stand open with paint, brushes, clay and other art supplies at the ready.  Off to one side is a splatter room, looking like the spot where Jackson Pollock refined his drip technique.  And in the centre are two enormous worktables with benches for seating.  To complete the atmosphere, the whole space is filled with music and natural light, thanks to the sound system and store-front windows wrapping the front of the studio.

It’s enough to make any kid want to take up art.  In fact, that’s the point.

4Cats is a professional arts studio franchise where children ages two to 15 can grow their ability to see and think like an artist.  It’s named after Els Quatre Gats (4 Cats Café) in Barcelona, Spain, where Pablo Picasso went with artist, poet and philosopher friends to discuss art and life and make and show his art.

At 4Cats, kids take inspiration from artists like Picasso, Frida Kahlo and Andy Warhol and create their own art using professional art materials.  Class curriculum and workshops are developed and delivered by curators like Comox Valley owner Kristi Martin.

“4Cats started in Victoria,” explains Martin.  “Joey [Simon] is the president, and it started in her basement with the idea of doing art with kids and teaching them art history.”

Simon’s idea in turn came from caring for a premature baby.  Simon’s son Jet was born at 26 weeks, and at the time doctors explained there was a high likelihood he would develop learning disabilities.  Armed with that knowledge, Simon looked for ways to help and encourage her son in his learning.  Being an artist herself, she started reading books about art and painting with her son.  Before long, friends and family took notice of the results and asked her to offer workshops for their children.  4Cats was born in 2005. The 4Cats workshops proved so popular and successful that Simon was soon opening other locations, including a studio in Courtenay’s Tin Town three years ago.  And that’s where Martin comes in.

“I had just returned from teaching in Indonesia—I came back half-way through our school year—and applied for a job Joey had posted on Craig’s List,” says Martin.  “I went in for the interview and she gave me the job right then.  Then for the next year I managed the studio for her.”

Simon also kept asking her—“trying to convince me,” says Martin with a laugh—to buy the studio.  It took some effort.

“I always had this negative feeling about a franchise, for some reason.  I don’t know why. I guess you just think about McDonald’s and all those kinds of places.”

Then there was the fact that Martin’s dream was to teach full-time in the Comox Valley. Martin is a graduate of Highland Secondary School, and attended the University of Victoria as a Physical Education major before completing her teacher’s training at Vancouver Island University (formerly Malaspina College). She’s been teaching part-time since returning to the Valley.

“I kept saying ‘No! No! No!  But eventually I decided to just do it.  I’m glad I did.”

That was a year ago, and since then Martin has moved the studio to Comox from Tin Town for better street traffic, grown the business, and found a team of teachers for days she’s at Highland.  The transition from teacher to art studio curator and business owner hasn’t been that much of a stretch, even for a Phys Ed teacher.

“Everyone always just thinks I’m a jock and play sports, which I always did in high school,” says Martin.  “I’ve always really been into sports and stuff.  So people are always saying, ‘What?  No, you don’t do art.’  Actually, yes I do. I always have!

“I did art in university as all of my electives.  So I’ve always enjoyed art but didn’t want to be pushed into being heavily graded on it and have a lot of stress and pressure around doing an art major.  “It’s cool to be both sides and put them together,” she adds.

Besides, 4Cats is as much about education as it is art.

“It hasn’t been a big deal that I wasn’t in art or that I wasn’t an artist,” says Martin.  “I’m constantly learning things and teaching the kids.”

That includes researching artists, learning about their techniques, developing curriculum and delivering all of it in a kid-friendly, age appropriate art class.

“I think the idea of 4Cats is amazing,” continues Martin.  “It’s teaching kids to be creative and self-expressive.  I know being a teacher myself and having 28 kids in my Grade 2 class, it’s really difficult to be creative and free with art in a class setting.  There is only so much we can do.”

“At 4Cats we’re really giving kids the opportunity to learn a little bit more and go a little bit further, just as sports have done outside of school.  Teachers can only do so much in a PE class.”

4Cat students register for specific sessions, choosing from things like clay and sculpture, drawing, claymation, and stop motion animation.  The most popular session, though, is the Artist of the Month.  Classes start with stories about a specific artist—say Michelangelo—and their style.  Kids then move onto to sketching using what they know about the artist as inspiration.  Finally, they move onto a larger painting or clay project done in that artist’s style, but with their own touch.

And the kids love it.  So much so, they’re often dragging their parents through the door to take a look.

4Cats Art Studio allows kids like Marcel Daws, above, to have fun with art. “I hope that when they come through the door they absolutely fall in love with art, and that they’ll take something away to be proud of,” says owner Kristi Martin. The Comox studio caters to kids aged two to 15.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

“We have a doctor’s office next door and I often see kids holding their parent’s hand walking to the doctor, and their head is completely turned to our studio,” says Martin with a grin.  “Then after the doctor’s visit they will come into the studio.”

And the kids definitely like what they see.

“We say the phrase ‘No big deal’ all the time because they’re allowed to get messy and it doesn’t matter if their whole hand is stuck in the paint jar,” says Martin.

In fact, the phrase ‘No big deal’ touches on the Montessori principles that are the foundation of all the 4Cat art studios.

“Maria Montessori saw education differently and changed some ideas about education as far as letting kids learn at a pace that’s more suitable for them, and letting them really find a passion when they’re younger,” says Martin.  “Also, using lot of natural things and having kids do things that maybe at first you might hesitate to let them do.

“Even our three to five year olds, I let them scoop out their own paint.  It’s really being tactile and experiencing things.  They choose their own colors; they’re making their own decisions; they’re scooping out their own paint.

“At first the three year olds are hugely messy and it’s crazy,” continues Martin with a laugh.  “But eventually they get it.  They run over and they know how to set up their artist’s tray perfectly.”

What really makes the 4Cats experience so successful, though, is the support from the community and the franchise.

“We have so many wonderful, supportive families that have been with us since Tin Town and help us get more great families in,” says Martin with pride.  “The Valley is so amazing.  There are really so many cool parents out there, and they bring their little kids’ friends.”  Word-of-mouth has helped Martin double the number of students registered in 4Cats programs over the past year.

“And the franchise aspect of it has actually been great.  For us it’s this huge support network, like a little family.  We all Skype, and we’re chatting back and forth sharing ideas.

“Even though Joey started it and it has become this huge franchise all across Canada and the US and Mexico I can still call Joey on her cell phone and say, ‘What do you think about this?’” says Martin.  “And Joey always says, ‘Do what’s best for your studio’.”

And for Martin, doing what’s best means one thing. “I feel proud to own the studio and have the kids that we have in here,” says Martin.  “I hope that when they come through the door they absolutely fall in love with art, and that they’ll take something away to be proud of.

“I don’t expect kids to come in and become artists when they grow up,” she adds.  “But I think it would be really neat to know that kids who have gone through here continue to do art.  I feel the same way about coaching [high school volley ball].  I hope that the girls that I coach go on to be active and live healthy lives.”

For more information about 4Cats and the Comox Valley studio, go to www.4cats.com.

The model within.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

If you were to be paid a certain sum, though not a large one, to take off all your clothes before a roomful of strangers, would you do so?  It’s fair to assume the majority would not.

Most of us have a certain modesty, learned in childhood, that tells us to remain garbed except when bathing, visiting the doctor, or making love.  Otherwise, we keep our duds on.

However, some people can and do doff their gear in front of others of both sexes, and among the more notable among them are those in what is a perfectly respectable occupational calling—artist’s models.

Modeling is an old and honorable calling and it is one that has been in huge demand by artists from the age of the Renaissance through to the moderns.  There is truly no way to accurately depict the human form in all its incarnations but for the artist to study the poses and sometimes even contortions of an accomplished model.  Looking at a photo just doesn’t do it when compared with the real thing.

And one important element of this process must be made perfectly clear; there is absolutely no sexual component to the encounter between the artist and the nude model.  The models themselves state that if anything even slightly “creepy” seems to be transpiring, they would have nothing to do with completing the sitting.  So there isn’t a Trilby amongst them, and latter-day Svengalis have not been sighted in any of their modeling sessions.

In the case of this community, the Comox Valley, though smaller than significant cultural centres like Vancouver and Victoria, is no stranger to the arts.  Indeed here there is a significant demand for experienced and disciplined models thanks to both the fine arts program at North Island College, as well as privately offered life-drawing courses and programs held throughout the community.

Profiled as follows will be three female and one male model, all of whom have offered their poses for artists ranging from the most highly accomplished to the rankest of amateurs wanting to improve their skills.

For the sake of preserving the privacy of the models I have chosen to offer only their first names. Their stories, as soon will become evident, are all slightly different in terms of how they got into the realm and how they all remain enthusiastic and committed to the artists who hire them.

For Sabine, who also carries out a career as a physiotherapist, modeling is an avocation that arose due to a request by an artist friend who was seeking a life-drawing model.

In Carolyn’s case her entry into nude modeling came about due to, as she puts it, “a reaction to a traumatic professional experience.” Asked to take a management position with a Victoria business, she was terminated a year and a half later for reasons that remain unclear to her.

Not knowing quite what to do with her life as a middle-aged woman, a moment of serendipity transpired in which she ran into a friend who was a life-drawing instructor and was seeking competent models.

“I literally applied for a chance,” she says.  “I was apprehensive so I went with a friend and I faked it by trying to indicate that I knew what to do.  I didn’t think I stood much of a chance since I’m over 50.  But I was accepted, and so far it has been an amazing journey.”

Cat was a student in El Paso, Texas and became friends with an artist group there.  She was told they needed a model so she applied. Although she stopped modeling for a while, she has been a model off and on for about 15 years.

For Sabine (left) and Cat, nude modeling is creative. “The human body is fascinating,” says Cat.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

The second most pressing question the artist, or indeed anybody, might have about modeling—the first, of course, asks how the models are comfortable disrobing in public —is how they are able to hold a single pose for an extended time period; often as long as two hours or more.

“For me it’s like an exercise in meditation,” says Sabine.  “It’s a challenge to hold a pose and it’s very much like an endurance sport.”

For Carolyn, posing demands “focus.”  She says the model never knows what part of the body the artist is centred on and that she has to disregard that for fear of becoming self-conscious.  Consequently, she fixes her own eyes on a neutral space that never involves looking directly at any of the artists.

Cat finds posing a very relaxing thing to do and finds it leaves her with a feeling of totally inhabiting her body.  While it may seem to the outsider that it would be a stressful challenge, she finds it to be the opposite.

Sabine adds that the model has the right to choose her own poses so there is a creative aspect to the task.

“It’s creative,” she says. “The creativity lies in knowing how to strike different poses and adjusting to the environment of the modeling setting and acting accordingly.”

Cat says that she focuses on how the pose might look for the artists and tries to give those who are working to capture her what they might seek.

“If I’m in a teaching environment, like at a college or university, it’s different from the situation in a smaller studio. Also, and you have to be really conscious of this, you’re not offering your perception of yourself but somebody else’s.  I also find each time is different. The situation varies from day to day and so does the image I offer when I’m modeling.”

As far as the nudity question is concerned, the models were all completely comfortable with that aspect of the calling.  In the words of Cat regarding nude modeling: “It’s cool and I love it.  Everyone is so beautiful.  The human body is fascinating.”

Sabine adds that the environment is situational and it’s one that deals with a culture and tradition that goes back centuries.  At one time being an artist was an unacceptable calling for a woman, so many women entered the world of modeling in lieu.

And indeed right through the 19th century it was a challenge for artists to find women who were prepared to divest in a studio setting, which was why Toulouse Lautrec, for example, often used the dancers and even the prostitutes at the Moulin Rouge as his models.

The actual act of posing is to Cat the most natural thing in the world.  Her concentration at any session lies in providing the artists with an interesting pose.  The nudity aspect, for her, is not a big deal.

There are two parties in the modeling situation; the model and the artist.  While separate, a certain unity must prevail for the thing to work and in Carolyn’s eyes, it’s a collaborative group effort and it’s essential that the model eschew self-consciousness and inhibition.

“You’re not being looked at esthetically,” says Sabine, heeding the same sentiment. “I’ve been in a room with all male artists and always there is an etiquette and I’ve never been made to feel uncomfortable.”

So, what is modeling like as an occupational calling for those in the business?  For example, are the models aspiring or amateur artists themselves?  None of them, except for Michael, whom we’ll meet shortly, have artistic aspirations within themselves.

“We all come from Cumberland,” says Cat, with a chuckle.  “All naked ladies come from Cumberland.  But seriously, I just started back modeling recently.  The usual rate of pay is between $20 and $25 an hour.”

In Carolyn’s case she also models at North Island College and at Emily Carr and finds herself sometimes being too busy and facing clashing commitments to model.

How does the amateur go about the business of establishing herself or himself as a model?  There are no schools per se, so the skill of the model is largely up to the individual. That stated, some models remain more in demand than others and that has absolutely nothing to do with a physical esthetic.

“I think a lot of it is just a matter of knowing your own position in space,” Sabine says.  “I look at pictures and I strike certain poses to see how they work.  I’m pretty lithe, and that helps a great deal.  For that same reason a lot of artists in larger centres use dancers as models.”

In that regard Cat notes that in Europe there are actual art banks at which models can register.  She emphasizes that the most important aspect of being a successful model is being comfortable with your own body.

“While there is a certain vulnerability in posing nude,” Cat says,  “I get exasperated with models that are uncomfortable with the process and who are careful not to expose themselves by positioning themselves so that breasts or other parts aren’t visible to the artist.  The hardest thing to draw is the human body and that’s why it’s essential for the model to be fully exposed according to the artist’s wishes.”

“The biggest problem I’ve faced,” says Sabine, “is being freezing cold in some places. But, I won’t drop the pose even if I’m suffering from the temperature.   I’ve chosen a certain pose so it becomes a question of pride for me.”

Meanwhile, Carolyn says she has no problems with long poses, some of them lasting as long as three hours in a single position. “I find I’m never sore afterwards,” she says. “During the breaks I counter stretch and I find that really helpful for when I go back into the pose.  The key to success is that the model must be dependable and so I feel I have to do what they want me to.  There’s a lot of pride in wanting to do a good pose, and I want them to want me back.”

Cat captures her feelings about the process in a very simple way:  “It’s just so much fun. I don’t do things that make me bored, and modeling never bores me.  I trust where I go to model and that leaves me feeling safe and secure and loving what I do.”

On the male side of the equation – for males are as much part of the modeling process as females—is Michael Ward.  He is comfortable with his last name being used as his reputation as an in-demand model is widespread, not only throughout Vancouver Island, but elsewhere in the province, and indeed nationally.

Michael has been a nude (and sometimes draped) model for countless artists and photographers for 35 years.  He is also a follower of a family tradition as his mother and grandmother were both nude models.  His grandmother actually modeled for A.Y. Jackson of the Group of Seven, so Michael’s connectedness is profound.

“My mother was a model, I am a model and now my two youngest sons are models,” he says.  “Modeling is more a lifestyle choice than a job for me—where everything I do is centred around modeling in some form or another.  I like to imagine that I’ll still be modeling when I’m in my 90s.  Why not?  Wrinkles are cool to draw.  Imagine looking at drawings of me in my teens and then to me in my 90s.  Now that would be a true life model!”

Oh, and just in case the modeling hits lean times, or he’s in a place where there is low-demand for his skills and discipline, he’s also a land surveyor.

“Mother was an art teacher,” he says.  “I grew up in wall-to-wall drips of oil paints and there were nudes running through the house all the time when I was a kid.  It didn’t bother me at all and this was back in the ‘50s and ‘60s.  I had my first modeling gig when I was 15.  I didn’t find it an odd thing to do because I was so used to it.  This isn’t bad, I thought; this is freeing.”

What is the role of the model in relation to the artist, as he sees it?

“An exchange takes place between the model and the artist.  The artist sees me for who I really am—there are no secrets here, no hidden agenda. To thine own self be true is particularly true for the art model.  If I’m in a lousy mood, these emotions will be picked up by the artist, not unlike a magnet, and their work will reflect these emotions.  An experienced art instructor/artist is able to side-step projected emotions and see the inner model, whereas a less experienced artist might be caught off guard.”

For Michael as well, long poses are one of the most demanding aspects of the job.  “I go into a near-trance for long poses,” he says.  “Modeling takes away all of my stress and it leaves me feeling refreshed with a tremendous feeling like Nirvana coming over me.  I am totally in tune with my body.  It’s like doing meditation or inner tai-chi.  Depending on the music being played or even the silence, I have fought bulls in Spain, danced with queens at royal balls, knelt at the feet of the Pope, climbed Mt. Everest with Sir Edmund Hillary and cried at the funeral of my sister.”

One of the real bonuses in modeling for Michael is that he has been able to acquire a considerable collection of art works in the process of interacting with both notable and talented beginning artists.

“I’ve said to artists, if you want me to model, then give me art,” he says.  “There have been times in which I have said no to money, and yes to works of art.  And some of the artwork features me, which is gratifying.  As it stands, I am represented in drawing books and there is a life sculpture of me in Victoria (where he resides and is in big demand).  Virtually every artist in Victoria knows me, and that’s only to my advantage.”

That life sculpture, by the way, is in front of the Victoria police station showing the character depicted by Michael holding up a pillar.  The sculptor was Jay Unwin.

For a number of years—and it’s a memory that sticks fondly with Michael —he ran a life drawing ‘event’ in the south Island.

“It ran for five years and it was sort of a ‘draw-a-thon’ in which we gathered 23 models and created what he calls a Cirque du Soliel of modeling in which the models and artists (noted, such as Robert Bateman, and fledgling to the tune of 300) came from all over.”

Unlike some models, Michael does involve himself in the creative aspects of the field.  “I do draw and paint—obviously not as well as some of the people who do me, but I get a lot of pleasure from it,” he says.  “I do have a BFA, and I’m also a surveyor and this has enabled me to survey by day and model in the evenings right across the country.”

On this part of Vancouver Island Michael has modeled at Painter’s Lodge in Campbell River, and models regularly in the Comox Valley.  He also teaches modeling and is often asked to give tips to aspiring models.

“I suggest new models come out and watch me at art schools and pick up some techniques,” he says.  “And my main instructions to new models include: Don’t rehearse; convey how you feel; don’t make eye-contact with the artists because it will break their concentration and it also can mean that the model will pick up negative feelings from the artist if that is the way he or she is feeling.”

Meanwhile, Michael says modeling continues to be a passion with him and he cannot imagine not doing it.  Money, he says, is not an issue for him, and he gets his greatest joy from meeting struggling artists.

“My goal was to have a whimsical character with all the wrinkles that go with it,” says Gail Challender of her one-of-a-kind Santa Claus figures. “And it was essential to me that all aspects of the figure be authentic.”

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

Christmas has symbols galore. Trees, lights and baubles, poinsettias, golden roast turkey, carols, the infant in the manger, family gatherings. And in the hearts of children of all ages, there is Santa Claus, the rotund and jolly purveyor of gifts and good cheer.

As it does for most of us, Gail Challender’s connection with Christmas goes back to her childhood. However, for this Courtenay resident, Christmas is an ongoing aspect of her life throughout the year, rather than just a seasonal thing.

In truth, her memories of those Christmases of yore back in her Saskatchewan childhood home aren’t all happy ones. She was the second youngest child in a family of eight kids, and there wasn’t a lot of money to be spread around for gifts. But, she’s philosophical about that. She’s philosophical because there was for her always one wondrous vision that sustained her back then—and it still does today, perhaps in a slightly different way.

That compelling vision and symbol is Santa Claus.

Challender is confessedly a great and persistent believer in that ‘Jolly Old Elf’ because she feels deeply the concept is magical and mystical and it is one that exudes what Christmas should be, in her eyes—a time of generosity and giving and also appreciating what you have. Spend a few minutes in conversation with her and you might find yourself believing, too. It’s not a bad route to take in an otherwise troubled world.

Not one to let her Santa Claus connection lie solely in the realm of passive appreciation, however, Challender has developed an amazing avocation that is devoted to extolling Santa Claus in all his glory and in manifestations that reflect many cultures and lifestyles.

She is a Santa Claus sculptor par excellence and virtually anybody who has gazed on her creations has been astonished by both her artistry and the painstaking work that has gone into bringing about what in lesser hands would only be a cliché image of Father Christmas.

We have become so inured to the omnipresent commercial images of Santa as the rosy-cheeked and portly figure in the red fur-trimmed suit that we tend to lose sight of the St. Nicholas aspect of who, and especially what, he is intended to represent—a spirit of giving of ourselves at many levels. ­­­

The conventional image of Santa was first popularized by American political cartoonist Thomas Nast in the 19th century as an illustration for Clement Moore’s poem, The Night Before Christmas. He was later lionized, agreeably enough, in a series of yuletide advertising images by the Coca-Cola company down through the decades of the 20th century. Eventually Santa became the default image of the season, sometimes to the consternation of those who would embrace the religious aspect of Christmas, to the exclusion of other considerations. However, as far as the cultures of many societies in the western world are concerned, Santa is a mainstay and won’t go away.

Challender herself has no personal problem with the stereotyped images of Santa, but she realized a few years ago she was looking for something unique, something of her own that could capture what she felt about Christmas. What her artistry evolved into was a desire to create a genuine three-dimensional Santa figure that would be as human-like as possible. That became her quest.

“My goal was to have a whimsical character with all the wrinkles that go with it,” she says. “And it was essential to me, if it was going to work to my satisfaction, that all aspects of the figure be authentic. So, if my vintage image Santa was to be carrying a bag of toys, they had to be either genuine antique toys, or homemade replicas that looked antique. You couldn’t have a traditional Santa with modern toys.”

One aspect of her painstaking drive for authenticity stems from a skill she mastered at the age of 13—sewing.

“I loved sewing right from the beginning and I’ve never lost my enjoyment,” she says. “So, I do all my own costumes utilizing both new and vintage fabrics. One of my Santas has a beautiful red robe and what I was able to get my hands on was a genuine English clerical robe. It was perfect.”

The unique and highly original faces of her Santas, which begin as drawings and then are transformed into three dimensions, are fabricated from sculpting clay, which turns ceramic hard when it’s cured. She then hand paints them after they have hardened. Particularly noteworthy are the eyes—those genial yet wise Santa eyes.

“The eyes are German hand-blown glass,” Challender says. “They then are sculpted into the clay.”

Her skills with the faces come from two sources. First it was her ability to draw, because that is such an essential part of the process. But secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it is her understanding of the structure of the human face and how certain areas need to be highlighted. She notes that she worked for Estee Lauder doing makeup a number of years ago.

“I have books offering various perspectives of the human face with which I can ponder the various expressions so that I can reproduce something that captures the emotion I want the Santa to express,” she says. “I also have books that concentrate on the faces of elderly people so that I can familiarize myself with wrinkles and expression lines.”

She began creating her Santas about 20 years ago, originally with mass-produced porcelain heads. But, from that time her artistry has evolved immeasurably and she has become a master sculptor in her own right.

The big change away from cliché images came about to a degree with the one-on-one training Challender received from the sculptor she describes as “brilliant”—Judith Klawitter in Idaho.

“Judith had such an important role in my life as a teacher and mentor,” Challender says. “I took two seminars with her in her home and we became really good friends, and have remained so. We keep in touch on a regular basis.”

A few years ago, while Challender was temporarily living in Oklahoma, she was commissioned by the Guthrie, OK Territorial Christmas Committee to design and fabricate an elf that was used as a signature theme for their Christmas ball. Also, during this same time, Challender began showing her works at a gallery in Guthrie, and continues to be shown at that gallery to this day. From such welcome public exposure she began to sell many of her figures and to receive commissions for others from all over the US.

Since returning to the Comox Valley in 2008—she lived here before departing for Oklahoma in 2004—Challender has enthusiastically continued with her work. But it was while she was in Oklahoma she got the commission to create her life-size golfer Santa. She based the six-foot-tall figure on the so-called Father of Golf, Old Tom Morris (1821-1908), of St. Andrews, Scotland, who did much to popularize the game enjoyed by millions today. The real Morris was a white-bearded imposing figure invariably attired in Scottish tweeds. And so is the Tom Morris golfer.

Consequently, Challender had to find the old tweed suit, and working from pictures she created the figure with the old golf-cart filled with toys—antique toys. But, to show her attention to detail, the golfer Santa is holding a golf ball in his hand. But, not just any golf ball. She scoured antique shops until she unearthed a century old golf ball of the sort Morris might have used.

One of the most challenging tasks for her as an artist—aside from the faces—is the hands. You have, after all, a left and right hand and the hands must be proportionate to the stature of the figure, and must be distinctly left and right hands. She doesn’t like to cop out and simply stick on gloves or winter mittens. She wants hands that look like hands and are proportionate to the head in size.

“It’s all a learning process,” she says. “And I feel better about each one that I do. It never wanes with me. I can honestly say that it’s a passion and when I really get going I have to make myself go to bed. It also makes a big mess when I’m in the process. The working area gets filled with fabrics, furs and trims. I also have to accept some of the frustrations because sometimes what I’m trying to do simply doesn’t work and I have to find another approach.”

As she creates, the materials she needs must be constantly added to and in that she gets to indulge another passion, and that is scouring antique stores to find items she either needs immediately or that she might use in the future. If a sleigh is called for, as an example, it cannot be a modern sleigh, even if she can make it look older. It must be the real thing. She’s a purist that way. A number of the really old sleighs she has used with her Santas have come from Germany.

It’s an arduous and time-consuming process once she sets down to work. In the case of the golfer Santa she received her commission in December and the final creation was expedited to the man who ordered it, the following June. Final sale price in that case was $6,000. Asked if she broke that time down into what she was making hourly, she says she wouldn’t do that at any time.

“I have too much fun creating,” she says. “It doesn’t really matter because I’m enjoying what I’m doing and I’m learning all the time.”

Challender has completed, aside from the golfer Santa, a number of thematic Jolly Old Elves; and why not? Santa is, of course, universal, whether he is Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle or whomever. The message of the season is invariably the same and that, to her, is the charm of it all.

For example, she did a western cowboy Santa for some people in Texas. “The key with that one—and all other custom Santas that follow a certain theme—is that all the elements must be in place,” she says. “I don’t want there to be a false note anywhere. The clothing has to be perfect in every detail right down to the underwear. Yes, the figures also have underwear!”

Does Santa just have to be a white guy? Not a bit of it, she says. Her Santas can be in any ethnic hue, again because the message is universal, so the figure can change accordingly. The Santas can also be of any size, from elfin to full human stature, depending on what the buyer wants.

She also personalizes the Santas, if so desired by the people offering the commission, by working in some of their jewelry, family heirlooms or old clothes they cherish as personal commemoratives. Challender remains available for commissions.

At the moment she has two Santas underway or at least conceptualized. One is a skiing figure, which features antique skis and poles and high-laced Swiss boots. Following the completion of that one, she is looking in the direction of a fly-fishing Santa who will be geared out in vintage Haig-Brown style angling garb. This will demand, she says, a classic fly-rod, which will not come cheap, and a wicker creel for the fish.

For Comox Valley residents wishing to see Challender’s work, she will have some on display in the gift shop on the second floor at the Courtenay Quality Foods store. That’s a natural for Challender, since she also manages the gift shop when she isn’t busily creating Kris Kringles. “Quality Foods has been great to me and I hope people come out to see the Santas,” she says. “I also hope they come out to see the other items in the gift shop.”

For more information, email Gail at: gailsoriginals@yahoo.ca

Naomi and Nico teWinkel at their home, nicknamed mulBerryLand.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

Somewhere in Union Bay there is a towering fir tree that owes its existence to a whimsical and tenacious little girl.

Flash back to the early 1980s. Naomi teWinkel (nee Katovic) was about eight years old when she was told that the forested area behind the family’s home in Union Bay was scheduled for logging. Distressed that all of the trees would be cut down, she hurried over to Grandma Elsie Katovic’s home next door to lament about it and, very likely, be consoled with home-baked cookies.

“My grandma was a lot of fun and she always encouraged me to solve problems creatively,” recalls Naomi. “Grandma, for example, had always wanted a backyard pool. So, one summer she lined the frame of a greenhouse with tarps and filled it with water to create that pool. When it came to creativity, she was a true inspiration!”

Fueled with enthusiasm and sugar, Naomi went home and wrote a letter to the loggers. On it, she drew a picture of a broken heart on a crying tree. She tacked this colorful masterpiece on her favorite fir and hoped for the best.

“I recently called my parents, Steve and Leona, to ask about the tree,” says Naomi. “Not only is it still standing, it now measures about three meters in diameter… and is very tall. Dad also reminded me that a few weeks after the logging was done, he had gone to the woodlot office to pick up a permit. My letter was hanging up in the office.”

With her love of trees and zest for life it comes as no surprise to discover that the home Naomi now shares with her husband, Nico teWinkel, and Kitty Cat PAL rescue cat, Charlie, has a backyard full of tall trees. And, after almost a decade of what Nico describes as ‘extreme gardening’, the entire yard is reminiscent of a Dr. Seuss storybook.

There is a giant chessboard, a serenity garden and a stand-alone red door to the forest… that takes you to, quite literally, a (pitch) fork in the road and other delightful discoveries. The .6-acre yard is a fantasyland with zany metal art sculptures created by Steve Katovic, colorful signs and art created by Naomi, and an eclectic assortment of odd and unusual trees, shrubs and flowers planted by Nico.

The home, on Mulberry Lane in Comox, has been affectionately named mulBerryLand. It doubles as the couple’s residence and home-based offices—both Nico and Naomi are computer experts. Naomi also has a small art studio in a separate building and they have created a unique guest suite over a detached double-garage. Their bed and breakfast guests enjoy a view of the spectacular mulBerryLand garden from a private balcony.

As I sit in the teWinkel’s family room, I am intrigued by how they have integrated the same artistic sense of fun and adventure inside of their home as they have in the garden and the guest suite. The kitchen appliances are about the only items that are ‘normal’. Naomi’s colorful canvases and paper maché sculptures grace each room; area rugs and furniture feature bold colors and wild patterns; even Charlie is extraordinary as he saunters around like a clown in a cat suit looking for a party.

I can’t help but wonder how the couple came to meet, get married and create their home, where Naomi spends most of her days creating what she calls “art for the young at heart!”

Naomi was born and raised on Vancouver Island. She attended Union Bay Elementary School, Cumberland Junior High and graduated from GP Vanier Secondary School in 1991. Although she was creative, she was not necessarily artistic at school. Aside from an art class or two in junior high, she has never had any formal training. Her flair for the unusual was evident from an early age, however, as she was not afraid to wear bright colors and bold patterns, often pairing pink with red, much to her mother’s dismay.

Nico was born in Gelderland, the Netherlands. His family moved to Canada when he was 10. They settled in Hythe, a small town in northwestern Alberta. By the time he graduated from high school, Nico and his three older brothers had had enough of snow and cold winters. One by one they moved to the Comox Valley. His parents and younger sister followed soon after. Nico enrolled in the computer science program at the University of Victoria, commuting home to the Valley to spend time with family and friends almost every weekend.

“My parents were not thrilled when I met Nico,” says Naomi. “I remember clearly that it was the week I had ‘sworn off boys!’”

“I was 18 and going to university,” adds Nico. “Naomi was only 15 and still in high school so, looking back, I guess her parents had reason to be concerned.”

Nico looks at Naomi and flashes her a huge smile. She smiles back. I can only assume that Steve and Leona Katovic have long-since gotten over their concerns that Nico did not have ‘good intentions’ for their daughter.

In 1992, Nico was offered a summer work term in Chilliwack. Even though the couple was already engaged to be married, Naomi’s father made it clear that that he would not approve of her “running away” with Nico. A wedding was hastily arranged and the couple began their life adventure together.

Before long, the teWinkels were back in the Valley. In 2000, they both secured employment with the same California-based computer software development company, Versata Inc. Due to the nature of the computer business they were able to live on Vancouver Island and work remotely. This lucrative contract enabled them to purchase land in a new development called Mulberry Lane and build their dream home.

“We started calling it mulBerryLand because of a typing error on our first set of cheques from the bank,” explains Naomi. “We thought it was hilarious that they had printed Mulberry Land instead of Mulberry Lane … and the nickname just stuck with us.”

Once in their new home, the teWinkel’s soon grew tired of looking at bare walls. Considering that it was more important to buy food than art, Naomi recalled Grandma Katovic’s advice and looked around for a creative solution.

“Nico used scrap lumber to make frames for me to stretch canvas on, I bought some art supplies and started painting,” says Naomi. “Before long the walls were covered in art, I began to sell a few pieces and people started asking me to donate paintings to various fund-raising art auctions.”

The first donated piece was a special commission for the Vancouver Island Persons Living with AIDS Society in Victoria in 2003. Naomi created a colorful masterpiece that showed the earth with a large city popping out of it and an AIDS ribbon to commemorate the Society’s work. The piece didn’t sell—because the people who ran the Society, their clients and volunteers, all loved it so much that they begged her to paint and donate something else so they could hang this piece in their boardroom.

Since then she has supported several Vancouver Island organizations including YANA, the Comox Valley Arts Council, Street Smart Kidz, Haiti in My Heart and Kitty Cat PALS Society. As a result of her work in the US, she has also donated to the DrawBridge—an arts program for street kids in California—and Florida’s Yellow Umbrella, an organization dedicated to the prevention of child abuse.

Naomi recently made the local news—and secured a place in thousands of family’s personal photo albums—when she completed a special commission for the Comox Valley Exhibition. If you stuck your head through the face hole of the giant farmer cut-outs at the recent Fall Fair you became part of her art!

While the majority of her works are originals, she has also replicated works from one of her favorite childhood writers and artists—Theodore Seuss Geisel. Considering that Dr. Seuss’ first book, published in 1932, was titled And to Think it That I Saw it on Mulberry Street, Naomi says that it is coincidental, but kind of amusing, that she eventually came to live on Mulberry Lane.

The teWinkel’s double attached garage is a true testament to her love of Dr. Seuss characters. A few years ago, while getting ready for a community art studio tour, the couple cleaned everything out of their garage and painted the walls white, so they could use the space to display art in the event that it rained. Nico should have known that you do not present a blank canvas to an artist! Before long, gaily-painted and larger than life-size Dr. Seuss characters graced all three walls of the garage.

While Dr. Seuss and the whole Mulberry theme is a lot of fun, Naomi explains that her main artistic inspiration comes from the works of Brazilian-born and now US-based artist Romero Britto. Britto’s work has been described as “alluding to the influences of early and modern masters, [his use of] pulsating colors, pop theme and commanding compositions have led him to become the premier contemporary artist of his generation.”

Described as “a self-taught, fun-loving artist”, teWinkel’s goal in life is to help the world smile, one whimsical painting at a time. While she has worked hard to develop a style of her own, when it comes to use of vibrant colors, geometric shapes, creativity and flair, her style does bear some resemblance to the brilliance of a Britto. Perhaps, one day, she too will be included amongst a list of masters!

Like most artists, she has peddled her wares at various art galleries and art shows throughout the Comox Valley and beyond. Regardless of the venue, her display booth is always one of the most eye-catching. In addition to her paintings, she creates sculptures and sews a line of stuffed toys she calls ‘Mullies—Monsters you want to find under the bed!’ Every single Mullie is unique, gets its own name and eventually ends up in the arms of a child. This winter she also plans to get her hands dirty on a potter’s wheel.

Despite their optimism and energy, Naomi and Nico both know that sometimes, reality bites! In 2003, when the ‘dot-com’ bubble burst, they were laid off from their jobs at Versata. Soon after, Nico joined an Australia-based insurance company, working remotely again. After that contract ended, he became a Certified Energy Advisor working for City Green in Victoria. He has recently retired his energy auditing ‘blower door’ in order to return to computers and is now developing mobile applications for iPhones. In addition, he and Naomi operate the B&B they opened in 2005 and they continue to work on a variety of computer-related contract projects, ever watchful for the next big opportunity.

With their computer backgrounds, the teWinkels make good use of the internet to market their respective businesses, including Naomi’s art website, www.SuperArtGirl.com.

“SuperArtGirl,” she explains, “is an alias I came up with to make me feel more empowered. I was having a real struggle calling myself an ‘artist’ so she helped me feel worthy of the title. Also with all of the art shows I was doing and everything involved with that—from painting new pieces for shows to all the packing and setup—I began to ‘feel’ like a SuperArtGirl, so she took on a persona all her own.”

Ever creative, she came up with superhero names for family and friends, too. Nico, whom she says is a safety fanatic, became SafetyBoy. Her best friend became SuperSideKick. She has even written a couple stories based on the Adventures of SuperArtGirl that she hopes to turn into a book or her ultimate dream, a comic strip.

If past success is any indication of the future, I would bet money on the fact that one day you will be seeing SuperArtGirl books in a store near you. Her adventure starts by saving a tree and I imagine that with her enthusiasm, dedication and drive—and the support of SafetyBoy—she could achieve almost anything.

FMI: www.SuperArtGirl.com or www.mulBerryLand.com.

“The look of a guitar is important, but really it’s a tool, and as everyone is differently shaped, each one has to be custom-designed,” says Al Hosokawa, with one of his hand-made guitars in his workshop.

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

The home of Alfred Hosokawa is much like its owner—compact, with a quiet charm and rustic attraction.  The house sits modestly overlooking a small piece of garden, yet it hides a treasure trove.

Behind the house is Hosokawa’s workshop and entering it is like walking into another time—inside, there is nothing made of plastic, nothing glowing and bleeping.  The walls and posts are warm, brown unfinished lumber and the small space is filled with tools of all manner.  Some are recognizable—woodworking tools, augers of differing widths, screwdrivers and chisels—while others look like art sculptures; a wooden arm with a stone wired on top of it, for instance.  Three instruments gleam among the supplies of raw wood and wooden tools on the shelves, their bodies shining, their shapes inviting touch.  These are some of the treasures wrought by Hosokawa in creating his hand-made guitars.

“I had to invent lots of machines and tools for myself once I started making musical instruments,” explains Hosokawa with a smile. “Once I took a trip across Canada with a backpack, and I think I stopped at every secondhand store across the country, looking for old woodworking tools.  They were hard to come by then.  There has been a revival of Luthiers (instrument makers) in recent years, but back then, I had to be creative.”

There is now a school in Qualicum—the Summit School of Guitar Building—which has been in existence for about 15 years, that inspiring Luthiers may attend to learn the ancient art of guitar making.

Hosokawa built his first guitar in 1972; it took him six months to complete. “I’d grown up around woodworking,“ he says.  “My dad was a boat builder and I’d worked with him as a teenager, so I was quite accustomed to using my hands and had always enjoyed it.”

The Hosokawa family grew up in Salmon Arm.  But the family—although all had been born in Canada and Hosokawa’s grandfather had fought with the Canadian Infantry in the First World War—was forcibly moved from their home by the Canadian Government when all people of Japanese ancestry were forbidden to live on the coast.  The government’s rationale was that Japanese-Canadians might assist Japan in an invasion of Canada after Japan dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor during the Second World War, destroying much of the American fleet.  It is only within the last 10 years that Japanese people have been compensated for the homes and businesses the government seized at that time.

Hosokawa and his parents eventually made their way back to Salmon Arm.  “My parents liked it in Salmon Arm and stayed there.  I was a child when we were expatriated, so to me it was home,” Hosokawa says simply.

Despite the turmoil of being uprooted from his home, Hosokawa had a happy childhood.  “It was a farming community, and I spent a lot of time working on ranches with animals, haying—one of our neighborhood friends had a ranch with cattle and I worked there quite a bit.”

He began playing guitar when he was 15.  “Actually, all my brothers and sisters—12 of us in total—enjoy music and when we get together we still sing and play.  I remember sitting around bonfires as a child and my older brothers playing guitar.”

A dyed-in-the-wool BC boy, Hosokawa spent his working life moving around, part of the boom of the seemingly never-ending supply of natural resources.  He worked in the woods, as a logger, in pulp mills, sawmills, fishing and more.  When he did begin making instruments, Hosokawa followed every lead he could to meet other instrument makers, learning from them and exchanging ideas.  “There were no schools back then, like there is now where you can go and learn the skills to make instruments, so it took a lot longer to amass the knowledge necessary to make instruments.”

Hosokawa smiles and gives a shrug, adding:  “When it’s your passion, though, you don’t care.

“I think I must have read every book there was on the subject to get ideas and information, some of the tricks of the trade.  It’s funny though, lots of the people who wrote them weren’t very good builders, so I got a lot of misinformation as well.”

Hosokawa worked from books and experimentation, mostly on his own, until he began working in Vancouver and Victoria in the 1970s.  “I remember working at Bill Lewis Music, a shop in Vancouver.  I was making speaker cabinets there for a while and I saw all these people in the back building instruments.  There was another guitar shop up on 10th Avenue and there were people building there, too.  Ray Nurse, Michael Dunn—they were the established builders of the time, and Anton Smith, a lute builder.  I talked to him for a long time and, you know, I got a lot of information in that one talk.  He really got me going.”

He found more established builders to draw from in Victoria too.  “I set up a shop with two others and we were making dulcimers, violins, guitars—everything you could think of.”

He smiles, remembering a fellow builder who worked near his shop.  “There was an old guy just round the corner, and he was building huge organs for churches—that was his job.  He came round and talked to us and lots of people were taking him guitars to get fixed, and he didn’t really know about that.  He was building these big organs with long metal tubes for churches—of which there were many—and they all had wonderful organs.”

“Performing really imbues young people with a sense of confidence,” says Loreen Johnson, whose four kids—above from left: Sophia, Caleb, Carter and Spencer—all participate in the North Island Festival of Performing Arts, which will take place this February at the Sid Williams Theatre.

Photo by Photo by Boomer Jerritt

To Beverly Chalk, no matter what kids go on to do in life, an early exposure to the performing arts is a huge gift.

Chalk, recently appointed president of the North Island Festival of Performing Arts (NIFPA), sees first-hand how beneficial the arts can be. “If gives self-confidence, they have to find their strength and inner core and young people do that intuitively when they engage in learning a piece of prose, a hip-hop routine, a tune—whatever it is,” she says. “The sooner they start the better. If fine arts are introduced later in life, too often teenagers are blocked from their creativity because of self-consciousness, a feeling that it’s not ‘cool’, which isn’t there in young children.

“I see the positive attitude that all these young people have, the huge sense of accomplishment they feel after their performances,” adds Chalk. “I think performing arts can help a young person form their ideas of who they are, before something else comes along to do that.”

The North Island Festival of Performing Arts provides an ideal opportunity for kids to get their feet wet performing in front of audiences and adjudicators. A non-profit society, NIFPA has been dedicated to providing this annual festival for students of the Comox Valley and surrounding communities for more than 30 years. Last year 17 students were chosen to represent NIFPA at the Provincials. The adjudicating portion of the festival takes place in February; following this are two grand finales—an Honors Concert, which will be held February 26, and the Dance Gala, to be held February 27.  These concerts also act as fund-raisers for NIFPA bursaries and scholarships.

NIFPA’s goal is to advance, promote and develop the performing arts in its various forms, and to encourage performing arts as an adjunct to community life.   Performing arts include Ballet, Stage Dance, Modern Dance, Brass, Woodwinds, Strings, Ensemble, Speech Arts, Choral Speech, Piano, Voice, Choirs and Fiddle.
Chalk, along with fellow board members—including Carol Martin, who recently took on the role of education and publicity—are keen to have more local involvement in NIFPA. “We want to get the word out that it’s a friendly, supportive festival, open to anyone who has the desire to perform a piece of prose or poetry, tell a story, play an instrument or dance,” says Chalk. “That includes adults too! Anyone is welcome to enter and it’s not necessary to be given a mark; a few adults enter just to have the benefit of the critique from the adjudicator.”

Small wonder, as there are many highly experienced and qualified actors, musicians and dancers sitting in as adjudicators, offering a wealth of knowledge. Jonathan Love is a stage and screen actor who has also dubbed for cartoons. Professional ballerina Erica Trivett, who has recently returned to Vancouver after years in Europe as a soloist and choreographer, will be sharing her insights with young dancers.

So You Think You Can Dance, the popular TV show, is possibly the biggest spur dance has had since the days of big bands, when everyone went out dancing. Sherrie Scherger, assistant choreographer to Sean Cheesman—who gives the dancers their moves for the show—will also be in Courtenay as the adjudicator for Stage, along with hip-hop professional Kim Sato. Sato likewise has a long list of credits to her name, both live and in movies and videos.

“It’s a tremendous opportunity for any performer, particularly if there’s a desire to go on and be a professional,” says Chalk. “These adjudicators are living proof that it is possible to make a living in the performing arts. We want to encourage anyone at all to enter and get the benefits of both performing, then having a critique afterwards. We want to encourage performing arts as an adjunct to community life.”

Participants come from as far north as Port Hardy, south to Parksville and east to Port Alberni. In February the Sid Williams will be buzzing with Festival performances. Speech Arts begins on February 1; the following week is strings, guitar and piano; the third week ballet and modern dance, with stage and hip hop the fourth week.

Audience drop-ins are invited throughout the Festival with the understanding that they will be seeing a series of performers who will be adjudicated—different from a show, with lights and non-stop performance.

Well established in the Comox Valley, The North Island Festival of Music was formed in 1977 by piano teachers from the Comox Valley and Campbell River. The name was changed to North Island Festival of Performing Arts in 1992, to better reflect all the disciplines involved. The organization is part of a not-for-profit charity under the umbrella of Performing Arts BC, which was established in 1964.

Many families are involved with parents and children attending the Festival, keen to participate and display their talents. One family travels from Campbell River weekly to receive coaching from someone who has been instrumental in the high standards and success of the Festival.

Eleanor Philips, despite being in her 80s, is still a dedicated teacher in speech arts. “The success of our children in competition has to be shared with Eleanor,” says parent Loreen Johnson. “She’s been marvelous.” All Johnson’s four children are currently involved in performing arts and are keen Festival goers. Carter is 13 years old and won the piano prize in the BC Provincial Festival last year; brothers Spencer 11, and Caleb, 5, and sister Sophia, 8 all compete in the speech arts, with the two oldest boys competing musically as well. This year, Spencer is part of a guitar group ensemble and is also playing two solo pieces. He has been playing for four years and thoroughly enjoys both practicing and competing. “I like being on stage,” he says simply. “I like performing in front of my parents and grandparents and all the other kids.”

Caleb is working on two poems, as well as a piece of prose and a monologue for this year’s Festival. “They’re funny, and I like making people laugh,” he says.
Their mom is enthusiastic about the benefits of performance at a young age. “It really imbues young people with a sense of confidence,” she says. “I think public speaking is the best gift to give kids. As well as building their confidence, it enhances their verbal skills.” The Johnson family is perhaps the most prolific in terms of entries and this year the Johnson children will participate in 21 categories at the Festival. Last year they carried off 15 firsts out of the 17 categories they entered in.

“The Festival isn’t just about picking the best though,” Chalk points out. “Sometimes a child may not be chosen for first place, yet the adjudicators recommend they go on to participate in the BC Provincial Festival. If they believe that the child will benefit from wider exposure to the artistic world, then that child goes on to the next level of competition.

This indirect education is an important part of the Festival, Chalk adds. “It’s not just about choosing the best. I like to see children given opportunities and I’ve been battling this in the schools systems. Too often the same children are given lead roles, time and again—why? It should be a place for encouraging and grooming children’s desires to do well and participate in the arts. How is little Janey or Jimmy to know whether or not they like being on stage—and most children do—if they’re not given the opportunity?”

As one might expect, Chalk’s own children all participate in the performing arts. Kaitlin, now 16 years old, and a past performer in dance, is a volunteer at this year’s event, time-keeping being one of her tasks. Her younger sisters Courtney, 14, and Cassidy, 8, will be dancing.

Chalk herself grew up in a family that sang and played devotional music. Her dad was a band teacher with the Salvation Army and as a young girl Chalk was more than happy and willing to go to band boarding school for three weeks in her summer holidays. “I began playing an instrument in Kindergarten and music was always a part of my upbringing,” says Chalk, who performed in her first musical when she was six years old.

“If young people aren’t ever exposed to piano playing, singing, dancing, whatever, how can they know they have a desire to do it? If they’re lucky enough to have a music teacher in primary school they can be part of a show or a concert, but that’s a bit hit and miss. Sparking that creativity at an early age is crucial, I think.”
President of NIFPA for a year, Chalk recognizes that she is able to build on a strong foundation built up by past president Collette Marshall, known to all as Sam. “Sam was the president for 12 years and she and the board have established the Festival of Performing Arts as an organization with high standards of excellence. I’m pushing the envelope a little further, by reaching out to the wider community of the North Island to participate and support this Festival. I could not be enjoying what I’m doing right now if things had not been brought along to this stage.”

To that end, Chalk and the board are changing things slightly this year. “There is a re-definition of the categories—musical, vocal and speech arts are no longer lumped together; they each have a separate category. With the adjudication, we’re getting the word out to participants through their teachers that it is only one person’s opinion—we all have our pet likes and adjudicators are no different.

“We’re seeing this as an interpretation of a performance piece, and marks are never publicly announced on stage. I sensed that the public was a little intimidated by the process, and we don’t want that. We want to be seen as the organic, approachable living organism we are, rather than a staid and rigid body. The adjudication process is that after the performances in a particular class, all the kids are called back to the stage and the professionals in their field will give feedback to them all. The classes are broken into age categories as well, and professionals are not eligible for grants or bursaries. Placements will also not be announced at that time. We want to change the focus of the kids from being first to participation. Too often they don’t hear any of the remarks made by the adjudicators once they’ve been told their mark,” says Chalk.

“Dance is generally a group activity, but more often the music and speech are individuals. There is now going to be a grouping of kids who don’t want to be graded or given a mark on their efforts, but only receive adjudication. It’s all about the kids and educating them. I don’t want to water down the competitive aspect—I believe competition to be healthy and a growth process—but I realized that within the scope of where we live, we want everyone to get up and compete. This innovation allows for that, and it will be completely unknown to the other participants.”

All the marks of the competitors will be online as well as posted in the lobby of The Sid, but not announced publicly.
Most entrants to the Festival are part of a studio, or a group. Dancers have to be part of a studio to enter because of insurance liability, but individuals can participate in the other disciplines. Quite a few home-educating families take advantage of the Festival with its opportunities to learn from highly experienced professionals. Two of the Johnson children are home-educated in fact.

“Most of the teachers in the Valley are familiar with the Festival, and without their hard work that has been going on for years, we certainly wouldn’t have the high standards we do. Kymme Patrick does wonderful work with young people in the dramatic arts, as do the drama teachers in the high schools,” Chalk says.
Chalk, too, continues to learn in her role with NIFPA. “One of the most surprising things to me has been how much I’ve enjoyed hearing and seeing players in disciplines that didn’t interest me before, particularly,” she says. “I hadn’t paid much attention to strings and vocal in the classical field, so it’s been a delight for me learning more about that. The adjudicators can demystify areas of the arts that perhaps we aren’t so familiar with.”

The winners, as well as other participants recommended by the adjudicators, go on from the North Island Festival here in Courtenay to the BC Provincial Festival. This year it is to be held in Duncan, and it moves around the province each year.

One of the participants last year was John Rim, a 14 year old whose family now lives in Comox. Rim moved here in 2005 from South Korea and has been a violin player since he was four. He took the strings award and went on to the BC Provincial Festival. Rim also plays clarinet and Korean drums in the Mark Isfeld school band. His particular favorite composer is Vivaldi, whom he likes because his works can be played quickly and energetically. Rim has been chosen as an adjudicator this year in the strings section. As well as a classical strings component, there is also a fiddle section.

“We’re hoping to expand the repertoire of the Festival locally to include things like jazz and rock-a-billy,” notes Chalk. “They may remain outside of the National Festival scope, but they could be adjudicated within our own local region.”

As fine arts are now under severe threat financially in our school, and the position of fine arts coordinator may be chopped by the school board due to lack of provincial funding, the Festival of Performing Arts may take on even more significance. But it’s obvious that under the direction of Beverly Chalk and the board of NIFPA, there is a dedicated commitment to educating and encouraging young local performing artists.

For more information go to www.nipa.org. Admission to each adjudicated session is $2, or $10 for the month. The Festival Variety Showcase will take place Friday, February 26 at 7:00pm and the Festival Dance Gala on Saturday, February 27 at 7:00pm.

“I know that after some films the audience feels that they’ve been on a shared journey,” says Sara Turner, in the theatre at Reel Films in Cumberland. “That’s the feeling I want to engender.”

Photo by Boomer Jerritt

The main street in Cumberland has changed somewhat since the inception of the town in the late 1800s, when thousands of miners uprooted themselves, from Britain primarily, to follow King Coal to the land of opportunity, Canada. Back then Cumberland was a boomtown and Courtenay’s population was dwarfed by that of the instant, industrial domain of Robert Dunsmuir—a miner who became a millionaire.

One feature of the Cumberland landscape that time hasn’t changed is the front of Frelone’s Grocery Store on Dunsmuir Avenue. It still retains the carved name in the stone lintel above the door, although the exotic turquoise paint is a recent innovation.

Frelone’s Grocery is now the home of Reel Films, the brainchild of Sara Turner, a 28-year-old entrepreneur who has launched into a new field of endeavor. Turner was looking for a new way to make a living after giving birth to her son, Cohen, now a year and a half. “I’d been working as a cook in tree-planting camps—which isn’t a lifestyle particularly conducive to parenting—for about seven years, and cooking had palled for me. I was actually studying traditional Chinese acupuncture just before Cohen’s birth, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but it’s also very intense. I wanted something that would allow me to parent Cohen in a more relaxed fashion.”

Turner’s brown eyes sparkle with enthusiasm and her elfin face lights up as she continues her tale. “I was sitting with my older sister, Jessie, last Christmas, throwing around business ideas, and that’s when the seed of a cinema first planted itself. I was mulling over my options, having moved from Victoria to Cumberland, and looking after Cohen most of the time. His dad, Mike, also works in a tree planting camp, so is gone for long periods of time.”

The history of Frelone’s Grocery seems to be an integral part of the building. “So many people come in to watch a movie and tell me, “Oh, I used to come here to listen to jazz, or they’ll say, ‘I had my first Chinese acupuncture treatment in here.’ It’s a fascinating part of running Reel Films. In fact, an elderly woman came in the other week and told me she used to buy candy here as a child.”

The original grocery store was built in 1935 by Louis Frelone, whose family ran the modest shop for many years. The next owners, Leo and Barbara LeBlanc, continued it as a grocery store until 1981. After that, Frelone’s Grocery had a variety of incarnations, including a motorcycle shop and a health food store. In the more recent past, it has been a weekend entertainment venue and an accountant’s office.

Interestingly enough, Frelone’s has come full circle in that once more it is a venue for movie watching. At another time it was also home to a film projector. Turner has been told that there used to be a large, hand cranked metal wheel projector that the cellulose film would run round. “Apparently the equipment had to be shut down in the middle of a film to stop it going up in flames caused by the friction of the cellulose film,” Turner says, laughing. “A fan had to be employed to cool everything down! At least I don’t have that worry—the current equipment is all digital!”

Turner confesses to not knowing anything about running a movie house at the time she had the initial idea. “I just thought the Comox Valley would support another movie venue, The Rialto being the lone movie house now, when there used to be three cinemas. It also seemed to me it would be a creative and satisfying thing to do.
“I wanted to show films that would be thought-provoking and stimulate discussion of ideas, rather than just fill people’s heads with mindless images of destruction and mayhem, which is much of the fare on offer from Hollywood these days. I also thought it would be fun!”

What followed was a huge learning curve for Turner, as well as lots of ‘sweat equity’. She took advantage of a program offered by Community Futures, which provides a three week business course for those eligible under the Employment Insurance umbrella. Participants have to present their business proposal, which if accepted, leads to basic living expenses being paid for 10 months. During this time, the business has to become self-supporting. Not an easy task, as statistics show that most businesses take a five year period to show a profit.

Turner is extremely grateful for the business courses. “I learned so much,” she says. “Things I didn’t have a clue about—advertising, accounting, internet use. It was hugely valuable, and now I run my business, and they deposit money into my account every month. I’m so grateful to live in a country that provides us with that kind of support. I like to see the money citizens pay to government being made available for our own uses.”

Turner’s aunt, who lives in New York, was also able to offer the fledgling movie mogul some sage advice. “My aunt had been involved in running film festivals, editing film and presenting tributes to actors no longer in the prime of their youth, so she had a wealth of experience. I wasn’t shy about phoning her to ask, ‘OK, what about this aspect’ or ‘how do I go about doing this?’”

With the idea and plan in plan, Turner set to with a will. She bought a huge piece of canvas and experimented painting it with strips of shades from white to dark grey, then showing film on top of it. She discovered the light grey shade brought out the color and contrast of the DVDs to their best. “I laid the canvas down on the floor and ran around with bare feet and a long roller and put about seven coats of paint down. It was quite the project!” That canvas was then pinned to the front wall of Frelone’s, in front of the bay window, where it takes up the whole wall. DVDs can be formatted to fit onto the canvas, which is actually slightly bigger than a typical film screen.

“The technical side was mind boggling, actually,” Turner says. “I didn’t realize I’d have to learn so much about it all. Fortunately, I was able to hire a friend who taught me the ropes.”

The next task was finding seats for the theatre—35 of them. “I felt a bit daunted to begin with. New theatre seats costs a fortune, and likewise old re-vamped seats. I had a limited amount of savings to spend, and was in a bit of a quandary. Then I thought of the wonderful old Palace Theatre, which was closed for renovations a couple of years ago, and the roof was set on fire accidentally. The water damage was such that the owners decided to demolish the whole place.

“I tracked down the man who had done the work, and asked him about the seats. ‘What happened to them,’ I asked. ‘They’re in my barn, waiting for you to buy them!’ he joked. I went out to see them and they were in a huge higgledy-piggledy pile in this hay barn, with cats sleeping on them. Some of them had been broken during removal and I had to sort through them to find the best. Once I got them bolted into the new, raised floor at Frelone’s then came the back-breaking job of cleaning them all.”

She laughs, remembering how hot it was at the time. “It was the beginning of the heat wave we had this summer. I had to steam clean them numerous times and there was as much water dripping off my face as coming out the machine. It was worth it though—after days and days of cleaning them and emptying out gallons of filthy, sooty water, they finally came up a rich crimson—it was thrilling. They give the air of elegance I wanted to create.”

That old time elegance is an important part of her vision for Reel Films. “People have used movies as a means of escape since their inception,” she says. “During the Depression, in the ’30s, movies were never more popular. Of course, it was a new technology then, plus there wasn’t the option of sitting in the seclusion of one’s own home to watch a movie.

“That feeling of being a part of a larger humanity is what I want to re-create. There’s a sense of having shared an experience with other people when the movie is on a big screen and in public. The difference between laughing at something on a home video, alone, or laughing with other people, is a subtle one, but I think it engenders a sense of sharing and belonging.”

Turner pauses before adding, “That’s part of my objective—to create a sense of community, to bring home the truth that we share this planet with others who are, basically, just like us. We might have different outward appearances, varying opinions and views, but those differences are superficial. I think what connects us as humans is deeper than what appears to separate us.”

Turner believes film can help a person come to terms with their own reality, and often put one’s life in a different perspective, bringing a sense of gratitude and clarity. “For many Canadians, it’s an eye opener to recognize that we have a highly privileged lifestyle here,” she says. “Some of us may not have much money, but we have tremendous everyday things, like clean water and air, which is often taken completely for granted. Film can take us into another person’s life and that gives us cause to reflect on our own.”

Choosing the films to be presented is the fun part of Turner’s job. “I watch a lot of movies,” she says with a smile. “I only present second-run movies, which means that they’ve already been round the circuit, like to The Rialto, and the other movie houses that are tied into a distributor. With a set up like mine, I actually choose which movies I want to present. One of the most popular up to now is Tootsie. That one drew a larger audience than others.”

Turner has a suggestion box for patrons to use. “I don’t want to only show movies I like,” she explains. “It’s an interesting part of running Reel Films—sharing ideas and suggestions with other small specialist movie house owners, and movie fans in general. Most of this dialogue happens over the internet, and there are sites that deal with alternative movies as well. When I’ve been in contact with someone who shares the pleasure I have had with a particular film, then I can pick their brains about others they’ve enjoyed, with the knowledge that I may like them too. Of course, I don’t have to like all the movies I show, either.”

She pauses. “It’s such a curious thing—a person of whom one is really fond and share a multitude of common likes and dislikes can recommend a movie, yet when you watch it, you don’t like it one bit—which again, doesn’t mean I won’t show it. Art is such a subjective, slippery preference.”

Her criteria for choosing films is broad. “It may be that a movie has a fabulous soundtrack, perhaps it has become a cult movie, and I want people to have the opportunity to explore what made it a cult movie. On Thursday nights I only show documentaries, and Sunday afternoons are for family films, so they’re more general.”

Recognizing that often hard-hitting documentaries can leave viewers feeling doomed, Turner consciously mixes lighter subject matter in the menu of film fare. “I recently screened Baraka, which is a highly watchable film that shows many aspects of humanity as well as the natural world, with images cleverly juxtaposed. Without using any dialogue, the film says a lot with its use of images and sound. I know that after some films the audience feels that they’ve been on a shared journey. That’s the feeling I want to engender.”

At the time Turner was applying for funding she took part in the annual World Community Film Festival, whose goals are similar to Turner’s. They want to educate and inspire people to become more politically active, in whatever way they chose. “At the time, I was still slightly unsure if I was doing the right thing,” says Turner. “I like to do things I’m good at, and this was uncharted territory, but being there, seeing those films that would never be available in Courtenay without a group to research alternative films, have the contacts with other communities that have already been presenting Film Festivals, and then obtain those films that are definitely not in the mainstream, really inspired me. Sensing how important it was to other people to share those experiences, have that new information about an event or an occurrence that otherwise we wouldn’t have had knowledge of, convinced me.

“It really solidified my intuitive feeling that when a group of people come together to share something, like watching a film, we’re subconsciously bound together in our experience,” adds Turner. “To begin with, all the people with their talents and skill who came together to create the movie in the first place, and then all the viewers watching it together, sharing that information combined with the visual experience. It feels really special and unifying, kind of sacred. It connects us to our human-ness. The more of that feeling that I can promote in my own way, the better I feel about what I’m doing, and the outcome of my efforts.”

Turner sees a huge difference between films and television. “I think most of what’s shown on TV is garbage,” she says bluntly. While she recognizes that many films are churned out to a target audience and follow a predictable format like many TV programs, she does think films are usually made with more intent. “And I don’t show run-of-the-mill dross at Reel Films,” she says. “There has to be something interesting or curious—some aspect that makes a film worth watching to begin with.”

When Reel Films had its very first showing, BC was sweltering in an unusual heat wave. “I opened at the end of July,” Turner says. “Everyone stared at me in amazement when I told them I was opening a cinema then. ‘Really? Who’s going to come? It’s belting hot, people want to be by the river or the ocean,’ my friends said. And it was hot! On the day of opening, the heat was so intense in Frelone’s, with the heavy curtains over the doors and windows and the high temperatures, I rushed off into town to try and get an air conditioner.”

Turner rolls her eyes and pulls a face at the memory, and adds, “Of course, I used it once and now it sits there taking up space!” Despite the heat, the opening of Reel Films was well supported by Turner’s friends, family and movie fans who turned out to watch Cinema Paradiso, an aptly chosen first film, as its subject is a boy whose dad runs a movie house.

A business entrepreneur with principles, Turner was recently put in an awkward position. “A family wanted to hire Frelone’s for a teenage birthday party, and show a teen movie. I cringed at the idea of showing this particular movie as it perpetuates a lot of unpleasant stereotypes, as far as I’m concerned. Particularly as to how young men and women need to be in order to be popular and fit in; the males are judged by their cars and the females by their bodies. I suggested that the girls might like to watch something else—with some trepidation I add, as I could have done with the money—but I just didn’t want to be part of perpetuating values I don’t hold. The girls were very curious as to why I didn’t like the movie, and more than interested to know what other movies were available. We had quite a long chat and they chose another movie which they thoroughly enjoyed, and I felt good about what I was doing.”

Turner is hoping more families and groups will be interested in renting Frelone’s space. “There’s someone who wants to screen Jazz on a Summer’s Day, which is a film from the ‘70s, in black and white, about the Newport Jazz Festival, and invite jazz fans; another idea is a live Stevie Wonder gig that his fans and admirers would enjoy. I really want the community to use this space.”

Despite the headaches of maintaining an old building—“The electrics are most unusual and needed some looking at”—plus the new reality of going from being a highly-paid seasonal worker to running a cinema that sometimes has five people, sometimes a full house, Turner is relishing her new endeavor.

She has developed her own recipe for home-popped popcorn and makes cookies and other treats for movie-goers. So delicious is her popcorn that many locals call in only for that! One Cumberland resident came into Frelone’s and said that he’d already seen the current film and his pregnant wife had asked him to come for Turner’s popcorn, which she was craving.

Delicious home-made goodies and movies chosen with intent sounds like a winning combination for Frelone’s latest makeover.

To find out what’s showing, log on to reelfilmsatfrelones.com or phone 250-336-0190.

Documentaries show on Thursday, general films Friday and Saturday and family movies on Sunday afternoons.

A scene from ‘Garbage Dreams’, showing at this year’s Festival in February.

The World Community Film Festival has been bringing films from around the globe to Courtenay for the past 18 years. February 5 and 6, 2010 sees the 19th annual festival launch yet another exciting weekend of documentary films showing in five venues in Downtown Courtenay.

“It seems that there’s an organic process that happens,” explains Wayne Bradley, one of the four committee members who chooses the films. “The films we receive for selection seem to reflect the issues we hear people talking about in our own community—how to live sustainably, global warming, healthcare, the economy, farming and finding common ground. Issues such as resource extraction, whether from the Canadian tar sands or Latin America, whether it’s for minerals, oil or exporting water, these are big issues that affect people all round the globe.”

It’s issues like this that many Valley residents and people from as far as Victoria come to find out about. They want to be informed and independent movie making is an excellent source for information. People also want to know about solutions to many problems we experience in our own towns. The festival is a showcase of stories of everyday heroes who have stepped forward to take action, responding to the challenges they see in their world. Those solutions can come from as far afield as Bogata, Columbia.

“To many of us, Columbia is a country filled with drug-running gangsters, and we don’t know of the huge strides being made in its capital city,” Bradley says. “The film, Bogotá: Building a Sustainable City, shows how the mayor of Bogata had a vision for his city. In Bogotá they have an enviable transportation system with bikes and walking being an integral part of it; parks and green spaces are proliferating—it’s marvellous. These people are creating a sustainable city, it’s an inspiration.”

The Film Festival is a vital conduit for information from unusual and alternative sources. Solutions to common problems are being found around the planet and their films share the information and knowledge with us.

Choosing the films is a long process that begins months before opening night. Films make the rounds of the four committee members—Bradley, Janet Fairbanks, Heather Wilkinson and Gordon Darby. Each participant rates their opinion on the cover before sending it on. All the films are chosen by concensus. This is a time-consuming labour of love with the potential to be overwhelming—there are films on many topics most of us don’t want to know about. The committee has to do a fine juggling act between information that is helpful or that they think ought to be more widely known, yet not have the viewers leave with a feeling of helplessness and that the world is a vile place.

“The aims are to unite people and let us see we are facing the same problems, and that there is power in protest, raising one’s voice, getting involved politically, whether it’s writing letters or running for office.

“We’ve never had such a huge choice before,” Bradley says. “With the recent strides in affordable technology, anyone can make a film now. One of our selections comes from Burma and was made by Burmese people with cell phone cameras, or little cameras held at waist-height, during the recent uprisings there. Brave people—and it’s totally riveting!”
Another film entitled Garbage Dreams, was filmed over four years and has won multiple international awards, including being short listed for an Academy Award. Garbage Dreams follows three teenage boys born into the trash trade in the world’s largest garbage village, a ghetto on the outskirts of Cairo and the decisions they are forced to make when globalization threatens their livelihood.

“In these times of wars, financial collapse, and environmental devastation, people everywhere are wondering, is change possible? When you find out what people are doing around the world to help make a positive change, it’s inspiring. Gandhi called it ‘soul force,’ and Martin Luther King called it ‘love in action’—it’s discovering the fierce light of compassionate activism, which awakens the human heart while simultaneously transforming the world.”

Tickets for the festival will be available at the Sid Williams Theatre mid-December, just in time for Christmas. $28/weekend pass and $18 Saturday only. Low-income tickets $12 for the weekend and $8 Saturday; youth under 20 can attend for $3. When not viewing films, festival-goers can browse through the Bazaar, held Saturday in the Upper Florence Filberg Centre, to find info about community groups and have a snack. For a list of films see the program guide at worldcommunity.ca

More than 70 artisans display their wares at the annual Denman Christmas Craft Faire, to be held December 5-6. If you’d like a less crowded shopping experience, come on Sunday, which is consistently less busy. It’s not true that you have to arrive early to get the ‘best stuff,’ says Leslie Dunsmore. The exhibitors have generally been working for six months to build up inventory for the whole holiday season and have plenty of merchandise on hand.

Photo by Jane Guest

In terms of Christmas traditions, 28 years is not very old. Given that historians trace many of our winter holiday customs back several thousand years to pre-Christian times, 28 years is actually just a blip.

But 28 years has been ample time for the Denman Island Christmas Craft Faire to become, for many people, as essential to the season as carols, colored lights, presents and latkes.  For these people, the Faire, reputed to be one of the best in BC, is not just a great place to buy gifts; it’s a treasured holiday-season tradition.

The biggest draw, of course, is the variety and quality of the wares: pottery, weaving, jewellery, cosmetics, toys, carvings, culinary items, clothing and more.  People come to shop, but also to enjoy.  Gathered into the 8,300 square feet of two community halls is an array of artistic output that is the equivalent of several dozen gallery exhibits.  There’s home-made food for sale in both halls and a variety of tempting snacks (poutine, steaming lattés made from locally roasted coffee, fresh-pressed apple juice) at the funky outdoor booths. There are twinkling lights and sprigs of holly and smiling faces, and there is beauty and color everywhere you look.

“There are people who have been attending regularly for over two decades,” says Faire coordinator Leslie Dunsmore.  In fact, she knows people who have been to every single Faire since it was launched— including herself.  Dunsmore has been coordinator since the second Faire took place in 1981.

Over the years, Dunsmore has seen both the Faire, and the artisans it features, mature. The Faire started as the brainchild of Denman artist Sudasi Gardner, whose booth, featuring her luminous paintings, colorful wall-hangings, hand-knitted and woven clothing, soaps, cards and more, is still a Faire favorite.  ‘Planning’ and ‘publicity’ happened through word of mouth and it seemed as if the Faire sprung into being spontaneously, says Dunsmore.  “We all arrived at 9:30 am on a Saturday, threw $5 into a pot to cover hall rental, and found a spot in the Hall.  It was fun, and very social, with lots of locals coming to check it out.  And there were some purchases, as well.”

It was clear that this event was going to grow and would need some focused management, so Gardner asked Dunsmore, an accomplished painter and community organizer, to take over as coordinator in the second year.  Since then, the Faire, and her job, have both grown substantially.  The task of putting on an event of this size—70-plus artisans, two community halls, more than 3,000 visitors—is huge, and not without challenges.

Rumors that artisans have had fist-fights over prime spots for their booths are entirely unfounded, says Dunsmore.  All she will say is that as the Faire grew more popular, competition for spots intensified and she realized she needed to set up some guidelines.

Thus was born another local tradition: the Craft Faire application deadline.  For years, Denman artisans have planned their lives in order to be available for this late-September date.  Annually, they would crawl out of bed in the wee hours to line up at the Denman Craft Shop with their completed application forms.  Those in the front of the line got first choice for their table location.  When the Shop opened at 9:00 there would be as many as 50 people waiting.  Over the years, Dunsmore developed strict protocols so no one can ‘work the system,’ for instance, by coming later and handing their application form to someone in the front of the line.

This year the tradition has changed; Dunsmore has initiated a mailing system, which, she says, has worked well.  “This year there were 40 applicants on the first day and only two spots were claimed by two people.”  The conflict, she assures us, was solved peacefully.

The Faire offers remaining spaces to artists from off-island.  There is always more interest than space for these, says Dunsmore, so artisans must submit their work to a local jury, which has the difficult task of choosing who will exhibit at the Faire.

All of the work submitted to the jury is good quality, says Dunsmore. “So it’s not about who’s better than who. The jury prioritizes the work based on its uniqueness. That is what we look for.”

The practical challenges of the event are many, and Dunsmore can remember overcoming all kinds of crises. There have been last-minute blown fuses, repeated brown-outs, and total power outages, but the Faire has always gone on.  The year of the power outage, the hall was lit entirely by about 70 candles.  “It was a beautiful shopping experience, but the fire chief didn’t know,” Dunsmore says with a chuckle. “That was a long time ago. These days we are much more careful,” she adds reassuringly.

She laughs, as well, about the year two three-gallon buckets of honey leaked in the trunk of her car as she was about to set up for the Faire. “It was one of those moments—do I scream in total frustration, wail at the exhaustion of getting ready for the Faire, or keep pushing forward?” She chose the latter, and simply closed the car trunk on the three-inch deep pool of golden honey.  Out of sight, out of mind—at least for a while.

“Three days later, at home, on my third attempt at scooping up gobs of sticky honey, a friend arrived and said, ‘Oh, didn’t you know, cars nowadays have a plug at the bottom of the trunk so liquid can drain out easily…’ I was ecstatic to discover this simple engineering feature, failing to remember that honey running down the driveway in the middle of a beekeeping operation is not always a good thing.

“With the winter sun beating on the bee meadow, tens of thousands of bees from 50 hives arrived to fight it out and slurp up the sweet remains. I was happy they could get more food stored for winter. And I prayed that the neighbors would not drop by that day!”

This being the West Coast, every now and then it snows, and when that happens, things can get crazy.  In 2007, it started snowing early in the week of the Craft Faire and, in spite of the fervent prayers of many, didn’t really stop.  On Thursday, Dunsmore started to get frantic phone calls.  Some of the artists had no electricity for days before the event; others were stuck at home due to impassable driveways, or even stuck part-way down impassable driveways.

This is when things get heart-warming.  Volunteers showed up, often unbidden, wherever they were needed, with tractors, shovels and strong arms and backs; driveways were cleared, boxes carried, and nerves soothed.  Dunsmore transported 40 strings of Christmas lights and 70 electrical cords down her steep and winding driveway on a make-shift ‘sled,’ which was just a sheet of plywood sliding precariously over the snow.

The event carried on more or less as planned under a magical blanket of snow, with more white stuff falling from the sky all weekend.  Attendance was lower than usual, but community spirit ran high.

Community spirit, of course, is a big part of the Faire.  The Faire brings the Island together to honor its artists, boost its economy, enhance community pride and celebrate the season.

Dunsmore estimates the number of people involved in the event (vendors, assistants to vendors, decorators, shuttle-van drivers, food concession workers, buskers, cleaners, organizational support, and other helpers) as approximately 250; hundreds of other locals attend the event and host guests from off-island.

Over the years, Dunsmore has seen many hobby crafters use the Faire as a stepping stone toward launching a business. Through their experience setting up and staffing a booth, talking to and observing their peers and interacting with clients, participants get a crash course in marketing over the weekend; they gain confidence, make business contacts, and often, come away inspired.

The event brings in money not just for the vendors, but also for the community non-profit groups which run the food concessions and sell raffle tickets and other goods.  All their profits go to worthy causes ranging from children’s orphanages in Nepal to local land conservation.

As well, the children’s table brings kids out to take part in the ‘adult’ world, giving them a chance to experience the value of their efforts, practice business skills, and be recognized for their work.  Oh—and have fun, too. After their shifts, many of the children gather up their earnings and cruise the Faire to get presents for their parents.

“It’s not just about economic enhancement, it’s about bonding in the community,” says Dunsmore.

The deep community roots of the event are part of what attracts so many visitors from outside of Denman Island as well.  People are thrilled to experience such a vibrant alternative to mass consumption of mass produced goods.

“In typical gift shopping, you go out to a big centre and look for the best bargain.  You generally have no idea where it was made or by who. At the Craft Faire, everything you buy has the added value of relationship,” says Dunsmore.  Artisans at the Faire are required to staff their own tables; for shoppers, being able to buy something directly from the person who made it is both fun and meaningful.

As evidenced by the recent interest in local eating, more and more people these days are looking for authenticity, personal connection, and environmental sustainability in their lives—all of which the Craft Faire doles out a-plenty.

“There’s a hand-made revolution going on right now,” says Denman artisan and Craft Faire exhibitor Bronwyn Simons, who along with her partner Bob runs Terra Home, producer of exquisite art tiles and hand-built tableware.

“We’re paying more attention to where things come from and what they’re made of.  Is it sustainable?  Is it ethical?  Does it have enduring value?  Does it connect me with others in a positive way?  Is it special and unique?  A well and lovingly hand-made object usually answers ‘yes’ to all these questions,” says Simons.

Dunsmore agrees. “Appreciation of the value of handcrafted objects has waxed and waned over the decades.  Right now interest is high,” she says.

The Denman Craft Faire, she says, just gets more and more popular.  “I do keep statistics, and the revenue has increased every year, except for the year with the big snowfall.  And we made up the difference the next year, which was fantastic.”

Dunsmore says she has three favorite Craft Faire moments that recur each year.  “The first great moment is at about 10-to-10 on the Saturday morning, when we are just about to open. I’m in the Community Hall.  There’s a large surge of visitors at the doors; the guards are preventing them from getting in.  Everything is looking pretty good; the crises are mostly over.  I stand back and look around me and say to myself, ‘This is all quite beautiful.’  I know that mostly, my job is done.  Now it’s up to the artists,” she says.

Her second favorite moment comes soon after closing time later that day.  The vendors have tidied up and gone home to rest; the night attendant (someone is needed to ensure the thousands of dollars worth of merchandise stays safe) doesn’t come till later.  Dunsmore is alone, surrounded by an absolutely amazing collection of arts and crafts, like a kid in a candy store accidentally left behind after hours.

“I make my way around the two empty halls, taking my time, and I memorize what I want.  The next morning, once we’re open, I go around and buy it all,” she says.

The third special moment is very simple: on Sunday afternoon, as the Faire moves into its final hour or two, Dunsmore makes the rounds of both halls handing out Japanese oranges to the vendors.  She has processed applications from each and every one of them, answered their questions and promoted their goods; some of them she has coached through their first-ever craft sales experience; others she has seen grow as artists and entrepreneurs for almost three decades. Everyone is exhausted, and usually exhilarated as well.  The orange provides a bit of sweet juicy energy to help make it through to the end.

It’s a small gesture that always elicits big smiles.  It’s become a tradition, in a relatively short time—just like the Craft Faire itself.

The Denman Island Christmas Craft Faire takes place Saturday, Dec 5th, and Sunday, Dec 6th, from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm at the Denman Community Hall and the Seniors’ Hall. Visitors from Vancouver Island are invited to leave their cars at the Buckley Bay Ferry Terminal and walk onto the ferry, thus saving money and avoiding ferry line-ups. From the Denman terminal, it’s a short walk up the hill to the site, or take the Faire’s shuttle service which runs continually from the ferry to the Faire.