One Thousand and One Hockey Nights in Canada

Canadientalism–that’s Orientalism, but Canadian. Instead of a discourse of largely European imperialist knowledge production aimed at defining the “exotic East,” Canadientalism is a discourse of American imperialist stereotypes aimed at defining the essential nature of the “exotic North.”

In the visual arts, we see Orientalism perpetrating stereotypes of the Arab, everything from turbaned thieves with splendid scimitars to veiled harem seductresses. Spicy aromas wafting around bazaar stalls, jewel-encrusted onion-domed palaces, vivid green gardens of paradise, and the licentious inner sanctuary of the harem–all these are part of standard Orientalist set design.

Canadientalism, on the other hand, is more corny and a whole lot less sexy (unless you have a thing for men in uniform). It perpetrates stereotypes of the Canadian, everything from scarlet coated Mounties with saddled steeds to bucktoothed Laurentian beavers. The aroma of spruce wafting from a lumberjack’s cabin, snow-encrusted igloo homes, vivid green national parks, and the chilly interior the hockey arena during playoff season–these are the stereotypes Americans attach to Canada because they find our apologetic complacency favourable to their imperial interests.

Whereas the Arab is a symbol of terror for many Americans these days, the Canadian is a symbol of timidity. The Americans would never invade their neighbours to the North, at least not as easily as they’ve done in the Middle East, but Canadians can generally be trusted to go along with whatever the Americans decide to do. Sorry, but there’s nothing threatening about a bunch of maple syrup-glazed doughnut eating, Tim Hortons coffee-drinking igloo dwellers. Except maybe Don Cherry, with his exotic suits gleaming like Damascene silk.

Above all Canadientalist texts, one stands above all as a paragon of literary exoticism: The One Thousand and One Hockey Nights in Canada. Loosely based on The One Thousand and One Nights, OTOHNC recounts the story of a Prime Minister embittered by Quebec separatism and the heroic MP who filibusters Parliament with a storytelling marathon that lasts for exactly one thousand and one nights. When the last story is told, the PM is fully cured of his jealousy, after learning so many stories about the whelps who have had it worse off than he has.

On the three hundred and fifty-sixth night, a tale is recounted of a French-Canadian university student and Habs fan who is then transformed into a beaver when he accidentally triggers the wrath of a jinni. The beaver travels to Ottawa to convince the chief of the RCMP that he is human. Seeing that the beaver has above average intelligence and can even play chess, the police chief makes the beaver his own personal pet. This leaves it up to the police chief’s mistress, an Indian princess, to plead on behalf of Mr. Beaver for the return of his humanity.

The following illustration is based on an actual illustration of The One Thousand and One Nights by H.J. Ford, a talented English illustrator active at the turn of the twentieth century. It was a quick sketch in which I hoped to pastiche this illustrator’s style with a kind of humour reminiscent of Kent Monkman’s style in his painting The King’s Beavers, on display in the Canadian exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

Canadientalism

Untitled

Original illustration by H.J. Ford

 

Did you like this post? Let me know. Also here are some other posts you might like:

 

Are there Canadian Dragons?

What are the Seven Pillars of Wisdom?

How T.E. Lawrence Came to Many-Pillared Iram

Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie

King of Egypt, King of Dreams by Gwendolyn MacEwen

 

The Inklings Reunited!

We often see separate photos of the Inklings, that band of Christian fantasists who met at a famous Oxford tavern, but not often in a group picture. I have reunited the Inklings for one last meeting at the Eagle and Child–who knows what they might discuss?

The Inklings: Charles Williams, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, and J. R. R. Tolkien

The Inklings: Charles Williams, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, and J. R. R. Tolkien

Venetian Dragon

Today I will share a set of images I drew and painted of a Venetian dragon. This is part of my series on Renaissance dragons in urban settings. I will, as in my post on Florentine Dragon, take you through the process of painting it. I’m still practicing my skill, but that’s how you improve.

Here is the final painting.

Venetian Dragon3

I did this one in a single sitting. I worked very carefully on the bridge, then tried to match the tone in the surrounding stone. I feel as if my colours were off and fairly flat unfortunately. However, my father, who paints with oils, said this one was a step up from the sketches I had drawn before. Nonetheless, I feel my work on this particular dragon is done for now. Later, I might paint a Roman dragon, or perhaps a dragon from San Gimignano, Milan, Genoa, or Naples. After I have my trilogy, my plan is to choose the best dragon, perfect my technique, and paint a massive watercolour of a large scale sheet of watercolour paper I received from my cousin as a gift.

A design like the one above did not happen overnight. Here is what my initial sketch in my notebook looked like. I drew it practically a year ago now.

Venetian Dragon2

That dome is supposed to be from Basilica San Marco, but there is no canal like this nearby. This sketch is purely fantastical, so to make my actual watercolour I visited Venice via Google Earth and found a bridge over a canal that would work for me. The Basilica was not visible over the rooftops, but I had a clear enough view of the bridge. Although my initial sketch of the dragon was generally okay, I perfected the elegance of its snake-like body in the final watercolour.

After sketch, I scanned the actual sketch I used for the watercolour and printed several copies to try different colour schemes. The first was conservative. For the second I tried to make a dramatic dawn shot, but the pencil crayons I used all blended together into a bit of a mess. I need practice with colour, but the only way to rise above that is through practice.

venetian dragon colourVenetian Dragon1

 

 

 

 

 

 

I used the conservative colour scheme, taking a special note to work with the lighting. I envisioned beams of sunlight illuminating the dragon’s face and the man’s face, showing their bond. Although I colour-coordinated the man’s cloak and the dragon’s colour, I forgot about this dynamic in the final watercolour. Nonetheless, I don’t think the colour came out bad in that regard. The strongest part of this painting was the composition, something I had in Florentine Dragon, although I would have preferred to keep the dragon well below the top of the canvas in that one. I’m proud of Venetian Dragon because the gaze travels in a loop around the bridge, giving you the idea of two different worlds uniting: man and dragon.

For what purpose do they unite? Perhaps because the man is a patrician with investments in the Venetian navy and they must recruit a beast to fight the Turk and reclaim the island of Cyprus, which the republic lost in the sixteenth century. Or maybe the dragon is this nobleman’s pet and water dragons are as common in the canals of this alternate Venice as gondolas. What do you think?

To finish off, I had some fun with a filter on Photoshop. I found this rough, high contrast image gave a  strange, intense emotion to the composition. It is a variation on the halftone filter I used with Florentine Dragon.

Venetian Dragon4

Google

The Wonders in Wood

A tree along the shore in Auckland, New Zealand. Do you see the stag?

A tree along the shore in Auckland, New Zealand. Do you see the stag?

Today’s post involves that favourite pastime of fantasy artists–finding shapes in wood. The more interesting texture to the wood, the more shapes people tend to see within the fibers. I have seen my fair share of flat-out inspiring shapes. Take the above photo for example, which I took in 2008 when I was in New Zealand for World Youth Day. You can see what I thought resembles a stag turned into wood in the trunk of this enormous tree (the canopy of this particular species stretches very wide in either direction).

The above photo inspired me to write a narrative poem in the tradition of Ovid–imagine that Actaeon peeked at the nude Diana while she bathes, then the goddess in her anger transforms Actaeon into a stag, before taking pity on him just at the end by immortalizing him into wood so he can’t be eaten by his own dogs. If you can’t see the stag, maybe you can look below at the sketch I made which exaggerates my imaginative observation:

stag_tree

More recently than 2008–in fact it was 2013–I spotted a nymph who molded herself into a thin tree, embracing it as if trying to fuse her spirit into the plant. It mystified me. What it really was, was a kind of misshapen tumour growing on this young tree on Mount Royal in a small patch of trees close to the staircase near Pine Avenue. But I couldn’t resist the sense that if this strange growth on the tree wasn’t an imp, then it at least represented a beating heart. Unfortunately I did not have my camera at the time and when I returned in later months to take a snapshot, I could not find the tree again–that is, if it was still alive. This hand-drawn picture (coloured on Photoshop) will give a sense of what I saw, but also what I saw in it:

ligneous impjpgIt’s moments like this where you realize how old civilizations like the Celts and the Algonquins or Iroquois may have seen spirits in their natural world. Perhaps they saw strange things in nature that suggested this presence.

Lastly, perhaps the most traditional sighting of a spirit in wood is when a passing traveler notices an old oak and sees a man’s face in the leaves, or in the texture of the bark. This one even has a name: the Green Man. Here is a picture of him from Trafalgar Square, but you can see him anywhere, on most any stone decoration on an older building. And next to him I have attached a texture reference I took of an interesting tree on Mount Royal whose bark would no doubt serve as an extension to the Green Man’s beard. See more wood faces here.

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Photo Credits:

Green man: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Trafalgar_Square_Green_Man_%28London,_England%29.jpg

Oil Painting #1

This Friday, I finished a painting I’d been working on for almost a year now, on and off. It was a photo taken in a barn at Vankleek Hill in Ontario and I thought that the colour scheme and geometrical lines would lend themselves well to a painting. It already had a frame in the boarding and a subject in the stove, as it were. Today, the old stove has been thrown out but the hay barrel remains.

In the future, I may turn towards more “fantasy” oil paintings or watercolours, or even acrylics. But for now, this was my first experiment in oils. Not so bad, I think. What do you think of it? Be sure to leave a comment.

DSC07659

Florentine Dragon

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"Florentine Dragon" my watercolour painting.  It is a complete product, but I may seek to produce a large painting in time, based on the same concept.

“Florentine Dragon”: my watercolour painting. I imagined that this scene may turn out to be a radical historical fantasy idea, placing dragons in the midst of Renaissance Italy during the age of the Medici (dragons being apt metaphors for that wealthy family, not to mention the Borgia clan). One crazy dream I have is to become a fantasy artist in my own right and design book covers, maybe even Magic cards. It is a complete product, but I may seek to produce a larger painting in time, based on the same concept, and possibly change the lighting to a night scene. (I’m working on my skills here.)

florentine dragon pencil

My first concept sketch. I knew I wanted the dragon to look like he inhabited the Renaissance, so in my composition, I tried to play up the sympathy between the shape of his wings and the Duomo of Florence Cathedral. I was actually thinking of making the arms of the dragon’s wings white, to match the marble ribs of the dome. I knew that my colour scheme would have many reds and oranges, the colours of the roof tiles. I also thought it would make a good night scene. However, there are more daytime shots of Florence and I did not know how the night lighting might have been in the Renaissance.  They didn’t have spotlights, after all. As you can tell, at this stage, I was too lazy to look closely at my architectural model. I wished for my focus to be on the dragon and the cathedral, mostly cropping the city.

Florentine dragon white

I redrew the dragon and roughly put in the shape of Florence Cathedral in this pencil crayon colour experiment. I was aiming for a night scene in this one, which I abandoned at the watercolour stage. I wanted to see if an abstract blurry technique could work for the roofs of the city, but I ended up hating the chaotic mix of colours. I learned that the city was going to be very warm, so I aimed for a cooler backdrop, mixing green mountains with a blue and purple sky. I kept the moon, since you can see it in the daytime and it adds an aura of mystery and romance.

"Florentine Dragon" my watercolour painting.  It is a complete product, but I may seek to produce a large painting in time, based on the same concept.

And then I did the watercolour!

Florentine Dragon3

Now some fun with photoshop. This looks rough, but has harder edges that I find appealing.

Florentine Dragon4

Is this an nineteenth-century daguerreotype of an actual sighting of a dragon around Florence? Maybe my historical fantasy can take place in the 1830s.

This is the same watercolour but more saturated. Do you find the colours more appealing? I'd like to know.

This is the same watercolour but more saturated. Do you find the colours more appealing? I’d love to know.

Florentine Dragon2

Poster edges, one of my favourite filters. Gives it that modern art look. Thanks for the comments!

 

The Beets

Nothing like a good pun to lighten the mood on a Friday evening–or a Monday morning … whenever you happen to read this. Fairly self-explanatory, but I would encourage anyone who takes a peak at this to learn more about the Beat Generation.  Ever put some Jack Kerouac in your salad? I hear it’s tasty…

The Beets