Michael Ostroff's recent release,
Winds Of Heaven: Emily Carr, Carvers and The Spirits of The Forest, isn't (in my opinion) a stellar film. Sorry. This filmed biography of the British Columbian visual artist caused me to wince at times with its jarring mix of colour film grains and typography that is all over the map both historically and aesthetically. However, the story of Emily's life is strong enough to overcome the film's technical and aesthetic short-comings.
Historical footage of Victoria and the West Coast combined with images of Emily's painted interpretations of these vistas gave context to the arc of her life's work. And to learn that for 15 years she refused to paint stirred in me a great sense of empathy and kinship.
 |
| Carr House on Government Street |
Almost every creative spirit has a muse it seems. However, classical Greek and neoclassical thought do not really describe or depict a Muse for the visual arts. For me, Emily takes her place with the nine daughters of Mnemosyne as the tenth Muse, and her domain is the visual arts.
As offsping of Mnemosyne, goddess of memory, the Muses were meant to encourage in artists the collective memories of their people through dance, poetry and song. However, the visual arts—though unrepresented—has proven to be one of the strongest and longest lasting creative disciplines to retain the historical memory of their creators' time.
 |
| The Elephant, Emily's traveling studio |
Since my time at the University of Regina studying Canadian Art History, forward to further education at
Emily Carr College in Vancouver, and then to live in Victoria both around the corner from Emily's
House of Allsorts and then a block away from her final resting place in Ross Bay, I have felt her gently divining a path for me, both in art and in life. I sense from the number of pencils, paint brushes and flowers that adorn her grave marker many others do as well.
 |
| Emily's resting place in Ross Bay |
As Catullus says in
Carmina I:
"And so, have them for yourself,
whatever kind of book it is,
and whatever sort, oh patron Muse
let it last for more than one generation,
eternally."
The painted four-foot wide scene both completed (at left, before trimming) and installed on the lawn (above) thanks to my neighbour Duane and his son, Lowell. Installed on the last Sunday of Advent.
