By Maryanna Gabriel
"No artist recognizes any standard of beauty
but that which is suggested by his own temperament.
The artist seeks to realize in a certain material,
his immaterial idea of beauty,
and thus to transform an idea into an ideal.
and thus to transform an idea into an ideal.
That is the way an artist makes things.
That is why an artist makes things."
- Oscar Wilde 1891
I have sold my house; it has been a bit rough. Of course everything looks absolutely beautiful now that I know I am leaving. Every garden corner created, every dear tree leaning companionably towards the house. This quote by Oscar Wilde seemed to fit. So much has been created here. My children growing, career, businesses, community and contributions to it, paintings, my time at Emily Carr, my recent master's degree and the writing that went into my book now to be published, the visitors from afar who have healed in the garden where I am convinced paradise exists. It is a most healing place where I have grown so much.
I must confess that the recent gathering of long time friends in front of my studio brought tears to my eyes. We shared tea, as I served heart-shaped sandwiches with garlicked cream cheese, and tiny squares with cucumber slices the size of pennies. We talked of things past and future, and then trundled about in our summer dresses inspecting this nook and that, conversing happily amongst ourselves.
As we sat sipping from old bone china, a Barred Owl landed in a big old cedar tree, as though it was perfectly normal for a nocturnal creature to show up above a circle of women who have known each other almost three decades, for all the world like this is normal owl behaviour.
We were graced and we knew it.
I must confess that the recent gathering of long time friends in front of my studio brought tears to my eyes. We shared tea, as I served heart-shaped sandwiches with garlicked cream cheese, and tiny squares with cucumber slices the size of pennies. We talked of things past and future, and then trundled about in our summer dresses inspecting this nook and that, conversing happily amongst ourselves.
As we sat sipping from old bone china, a Barred Owl landed in a big old cedar tree, as though it was perfectly normal for a nocturnal creature to show up above a circle of women who have known each other almost three decades, for all the world like this is normal owl behaviour.
We were graced and we knew it.
