Clematis montana 3 May 2025

My abuelita (grandmother) often told me, “Cuando el diablo no tiene nada que hacer, con el rabo espanta moscas.” This translates to,”When the devil is bored he swats flies with his tail.”

Because I live alone with two cats I have a lot of time to spare so I do a lot of fly swatting. Besides writing my blogs, one of my happy comforts is to walk around my spring garden to see what plant I can cut to scan.

In our old Kerrisdale garden we had an aggressive Clematis montana (honorary brotherhood/sisterhood with bamboo and the wisteria). I managed to take a lovely portrait of Art Bergmann under it.

Clematis montana and Art Bergmann 

Art Bergmann

 When Rosemary and often went to some Vancouver nursery there was often a desk with a couple of older women who were master gardeners handing out advice or answering questions. Rosemary would nod in my direction with a negative sign of her finger. I would ignore it and go straight to the two women. I would ask them,"How do you pronounce c-l-e-m-a-t-i-s?"  Invariably they would answer, “Clemátis”. I would then ask, “And how do you pronounce c-l-i-t-o-r-i-s?” They would then blush and I would then correct them and say, “Both words come from the Greek and they are pronounced with emphasis in the first syllable, thus clematis and….."

I believe that the combination of a flower or plant rarely works well in conjunction with the nude female figure. But once I did see it work. I entered a show in Alberta called Mother Earth. I used Clematis montana on a lovely chest with lovely hands.

There was another occasion were indeed a woman and my hostas went well together.

Shade Fanfare
 

Rosa 'William Lobb' & Hosta 'Whee!' 2 May 2024

 

Until the end of the 20th century I believe that artists, to be artists had to get their hands dirty.

In 2001 on lark based on a tad of summer boredom I scanned my first plant, a Bourbon rose, Rosa ‘Reine Victoria’. Because I had beginner’s luck I kept at it. I saw that my mission was one of botanical accuracy so I scanned my plants at 100% size, I made sure the colours were accurate and when I saved these large files I made sure I had the day’s date attached.

Little by little, while I kept scanning with accuracy, I found myself spending more time arranging my plants on the scanner. Eventually I realized that I was going more for beauty than for accuracy.

When I was in kindergarten I won a first prize in my class with a water colour that looked pretty abstract. In 1954, while in Mexico City, my mother had me learn to paint and draw with an English artist called Robin Bond. I was not too bad. One day I told my mother that I could no longer paint. A couple of years later I bought my first SLR camera in Austin.

It was in 1962, that on a trip with an art class from Mexico City College to Guanajuato (I was invited but I was studying engineering), that the photographs I took, won me a first prize in a college art competition. My award was signed by Rufino Tamayo.

I never considered myself an artist. Once we moved to Vancouver in 1975, by the time I became a competent magazine photographer specializing in portraits, I was quick to deny to anybody that asked that I was an artist. So many would-be artists, who did not make or do not make it in this city, become bitter. I wanted to avoid that bitterness.

It was my Argentine artist friend Juan Manuel Sánchez who was a member of the prestigious Grupo Espartaco, which was made up of many artists who fought the Argentine military dictatorship of the mid 70s who declared, “Alex sos un artista.”  It was only then that I began to believe that perhaps I was. At that time I was printing my photographs in my darkroom. Thus I could declare I was a true artist.  I got my hands dirty.

But what is it that I am now that I scan my plants from my garden in my well lit and clean oficina? Can my plant scans be art? Am I an artist?

Luckily when people tell me they like my plant photographs and I correct them and tell them that they are scanographs and that I am a scanogrpher, they turn around and lose interest. And, most important, I don’t become bitter. Why?

I have always been inspired by American photographer Garry Winogrand (January 14, 1928 – March 19, 1984). When he died they found hundreds of unprocessed rolls of film in his house. Winogrand famously said that the liked to photograph things to find out what things looked like photographed.

I have borrowed that mantra as when I scan my plants and I spend a bit of time arranging them “artistically” I never really know what my scans will look like. 

Today I scanned together (twice) the moss rose Rosa ‘William Lobb’ with a hosta the I believe may be the only plant with botanical nomenclature in its name that includes a !. It is Hosta  'Whee!’

 The two scans today did surprise me. Winogrand would have understood.

Marion McDonnell - the Blue Poppy Lady

These days I enjoy looking at my large Rhodoendron augustinii ‘Marion McDonnell’. I immediately know that this cultivar was introduced by my New Zealand friend Alleyne Cook. When I think of Cook I know that 2 June 1953 when he was working for Constance Spry School for Girls she had him cut flowers as they were going to decorate Westminster Abbey for Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. From there my thoughts navigate to me in on that date in Buenos Aires when my mother told me to wash my hands and knees for lunch. I told her I could not as I was listening to the coronation of my queen.

A slash of blue 

Alleyne Cook

From above think of Marion McDonnell and know that she was called the Blue Poppy Lady. She propagated Meconopsis betonicifolia (or grandis) in her greenhouse.  Because of my advanced age sometimes I cannot remember the word propagate and can only think of procreate.

On a lark  (I had to find out its origin):

Possibly a shortening of skylark (1809), sailors' slang for "play rough in the rigging of a ship" (larks were proverbial for high-flying). Or perhaps it is an alteration of English dialectal or colloquial lake/laik "to play, frolic, make sport" The phrase "on a lark" originated from the verb "lark," which meant to frolic, romp, or play pranks. The expression suggests doing something for fun or as a lighthearted endeavor, rather than for any serious or practical reason. The word "lark" itself is thought to have evolved from a British slang term, possibly related to the skylark bird, which was known for its high-flying antics, suggesting a playful or carefree nature.

On a lark I decided to look up the word propaganda in my on-line Diccionario de la Real Academia Española– RAE – the best on line dictionary in my opinion. There I found out (and was I startled):

Del lat. mod. [Congregatio de] propaganda [fide] '[Congregación para] la propagación [de la fe]', congregación de la curia romana encargada de las misiones, que fundó Gregorio XV en 1622.

That translates to the Latin and it stands for Congregation for the propagation (that word!) of faith. It was an organization from the Roman Catholic Curia in charge of missions in the new world.

Now I know where the word in Spanish and in English – propaganda  comes from.

On a lark I decided to find out the origin of the expression of On A Lark Ascending:

The Lark Ascending is a short, single-movement work by the English composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, inspired by the 1881 poem of the same name by the English writer George Meredith. It was originally for violin and piano, completed in 1914, but not performed until 1920. The composer reworked it for solo violin and orchestra after the First World War. This version, in which the work is chiefly known, was first performed in 1921. It is subtitled "A Romance", a term that Vaughan Williams favoured for contemplative slow music. Wikipedia

And from there I ended in remembering that in Mexico City before 1975 my Yorkshire-born friend Andrew Taylor and I would listen to my records of Vaughan Williams.

Andrew Taylor Esq.

Postcard - Marv Newland

 

Marv Newland - 3 January 2024

Educación in Spanish is not exactly education in English. The Spanish word combines educational knowledge and (most important) manners.

My mother often told me as a little boy, “Hay poca gente fina como nosotros.” Fina translates to “There are few gentle, well-mannered and educated people like us.”

In that más educado 20th century, people who were invited to a party you were giving and could not come, might have sent a card and flowers as a form of apology.

That sort of stuff is long gone.

Here in our Kitsilano narrow streets, a car might be coming towards you. You pull out to the side to let them pass. In Kitsilano most of those drivers wave thankfully as the pass by. But the younger (mostly immigrants) don’t even give you eye contact. It would seem that it is their right for you to have to wait for them.

A few years ago if you were on an outside lane and a bus would signal to be on it, and if I waited, the driver would stick his hand out in thanks. That has disappeared.

I don’t have to go any further and explain manners in politics and religion. I keep my views to myself.

Why all the above?

I know a couple of male friends, Marv Newland and Neil Wedman who not only are well-mannered but they make it a point to always dress well. They wear suits or good jackets, polished shoes and ties. And, of course, a handkerchief in the front jacket pocket.

But there is more. They not only thank you with emails for something you might have done for them but they may send you a thank you card. In case of Newland he sends handwritten postcards. The postcards are one of a kind as he draws them.

I might have processed a roll of film for Newland as I would for any friend but he did send me the lovely postcard you see here.

As my mother would have said, “Son gente fina."