22 February 2016

Screens, skates

Ada at the Arena, February 2016

Berlinale (like TIFF, but German) ended this weekend, and I have it to thank for getting to watch three hours of short films screened at my work, all by indigenous film-makers. The Grandfather Drum appeared at Sundance, too. Here is a minute from Bihttos (Rebel) and another from Nowhere Land, soon to be available on the NFB's site, along with so many others. Nowhere Land is the best answer I've ever seen to the question, "Why don't they all just move to the city?"

I learned that a lot of films made by indigenous people - films with subjects and perspectives mostly new to film, maybe totally new in many cases - are either totally Canadian, or partly Canadian. Because of the support of the National Film Board.

I met Caroline Monnette during Berlinale, but I hadn't seen Roberta or Mobilize yet, so I wasted the opportunity.

We're going to try to buy some of the films we saw for the collection at the Marshall McLuhan Salon, the digital multimedia space, film/music/video archive, all-around Canada-loving room at the Embassy. The Salon showed the newly-digitalised film Reason Over Passion, by Joyce Wieland, an early experimental film/road trip movie about Canada, and fond send-up of Pierre Trudeau. Somebody thought it would be a good film to show, given the election of another Trudeau government.

It was a great idea, and lots of people came. Though, for me it is unsettling to have a leader, whatever his strengths or qualifications or performance, who is the son of another leader. I was happy to hear Canadaland and Glen McGregor calling out the existence of an aristocracy in Canada. We should be thinking about that.

These faces and voices of ours, on the other hand, didn't have a ready-made platform, but they are also worth your time.

***

The first year away seems so far to be the story of missed opportunities. Finding the really good skating club for my ice-mad daughter, a week before they close for the (terribly short) season. Visiting Prague but being too worn out to care about the hand-painted facades. Giving up after three months on finding an Au pair, when if I'd only known then what I know now, because I just can't face it anymore. In small victories, Jeff repaired our broken bed (we've been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by debris, laundry and partially-unpacked boxes for six months), and, after over an hour of searching, even found the mislaid IKEA fittings.

Maybe tomorrow we can find the time to put it together. In the meanwhile, I am eating a lot of delicious German pastries.

04 January 2016

Starting to draw in Berlin

Labyrinth Kinder Museum, December 2015

I drew these pictures while the kids played at Labyrinth, a children's play museum that is a train and tram ride away into trendy Prenzlauer Berg. The kids and I just love the trams pulling up and down the main boulevard. Having spent several years in Westboro, Ottawa, though, Jeff and I weren't keen (despite the great services) to move back into a neighbourhood where we would rub up against conspicuously wealthy people. I always manage to feel bad about myself when I'm around people with beautiful haircuts and expensive strollers.

Labyrinth is a small version of the Children's Museum in Gatineau. There's a set of bleachers for the parents to sit on while the kids pretend to sell plastic plants and loaves of bread, or program an electrical circuit board. It was a momentary paradise for me, to draw undisturbed for an hour or so. Someone even asked me if I was a professional. Well!

We live in the sedate neighbourhood of Schoeneberg, a couple of subway stops from our kids' schools. There's a grass Platz with a fountain for kids to frolic in, and nearby pull-out-all-the-stops Germany-style playgrounds. The apartment buildings are imposing and colourful, breathing charm and history, at once beautiful - the sculpted balconies and ornate ceilings of pre-WWI, the timeless artisanal chocolate shops and cafes at ground level -- and heart-wrenching, with memorials to the neighbourhood's past as a Jewish quarter. Most buildings have little plaques outside detailing their war dead or disappeared, and corner signposts describe oppressive laws from the 1930s. Lest we forget isn't something given the nod once a year here. It is part of the fabric of life, both mundane and deeply felt.


These are my solo first drawings since landing in Berlin 4.5 months ago. Ada and I ride our bikes every Saturday to a cafe, where we do homework and draw pictures of horses and fanciful people together. She's been pretty anxious at times, and the Mommy time calms her. For two people who used to spend up to 1 to 1.5 hours alone together a day, it has been really hard on both of us to lose that abundance of time together.

I remember how Ada would bring up every imaginable subject during those long commutes in the car together. She favoured difficult topics, like crime etc., and I would struggle to answer. Sometimes I would promise to answer later upon reflection, and I would come back with a thought-out response.

Her teacher asked us for a meeting a few weeks ago. He said her schoolwork and comportment are great, and she has friends, but that she's so slow-moving between activities that he wondered if she was feeling anxious. That was easy for us to confirm. At home she also has a difficult habit of "singing" loudly or shouting when she's under pressure, in the most guttural or raspy voices she can make, combined with nervous laughter. It's deliberately provocative, and combined with my husband's tinnitus, which amplifies all noises to painful degrees, we have a toxic combination during the morning rush. She has calmed down a bit over the holidays, thankfully.

For us, the overwhelming challenge is child care, and getting through the evening and weekend. In Berlin, most women work part-time until their children are school-aged. Women also shop daily for groceries, and there are no large stores. The whole society depends on the work of the mother, and there are no structures in place for double-income families with young children like mine. For example, our 3.5-year-old son's after school program closes at 4:30, which is too early for us to pick him up from school.

We found a wonderful mom to pick both our children and her own little one up. The arrangement works beautifully. James has taken her - younger, at 2.5 years old - daughter under his wing at school, which gives him a huge, needed confidence boost, and it allows the little girl a chaperone in a classroom of older children.

James is learning French and German in the classroom, and is the only English speaker. This struggle continues to be a massive challenge, but his mood has improved. He was hitting and screaming a lot, even biting, but is coming back to himself reliably. He restarted an adorable habit about a month ago, of saying "I'm okay" after falling down or even just during the course of the day. Like an inward health check.

So both kids continue to find their new normal. Ada loves living in Germany, seems to prefer it actually (she loves our new apartment and her new school), and James is coming along. Still, they are both still showing signs of the strain. My husband and I know that if we were feeling calmer and happier, that it would be reflected in the kids.

Something that came as a surprise to us was how abnormal we would be. A family with two careers and two young children. It sounds quite unremarkable, but we are unique in my workplace, and to a certain extent in this society. And it is clear that we are solely responsible for solving any challenges arising from the fact that we both have serious jobs and that the child care and family setup in Germany are not the same as in Canada.

We are simply utterly exhausted from learning our still-new jobs, moving into our apartment and dealing with our shipment and car from Canada, getting to know two school environments, and finding childcare solutions. In the evenings there isn't a shred of energy left, and our family unit suffers for it. And we have to go get groceries and supplies 3-4 times a week, cutting down our slim post-bedtime evenings even further.

I have a simple, highly-effective formula for keeping myself in a good mood: art at least weekly, exercise 2-3 x week. I'm on my sixth month without these fail safes, and it shows.

So Jeff and I hit upon a simple solution for our woes, and that was to introduce another person to the picture, at least until we are all a bit calmer and less worn down. Unfortunately, our search for an au pair has been worse than not having one. Time and again our emails to candidates would be ignored, or we would spend too much time on unsuitable ones. We basically hired one woman, but her father became ill. A second one visited the house but her English wasn't good enough. The third actually moved in with her suitcase, only for us to discover that she had misrepresented herself and could not legally work for us as an au pair. Two months I have spent on this, all with the intent of making my evenings a little easier by recruiting someone to help with cooking and cleaning, help with dinner and bedtime if Jeff wanted to go to board game night or me to an art class, babysit for the odd date night.

I chose Berlin because it is a very green city, with a rich urban biodiversity, lots of rivers, lakes and parks. It is also an art city, with over 600 gallery spaces. So far I have visited none of these things! But Berlin continues to be an amazing place. I see bits of it on my way to meetings, or when I am walking around with James or biking with Ada. There is still plenty of time, and it has only been 4.5 months. For now, we are taking care of our kids and our jobs, and we hope Berlin's delights will still be there for us to discover in a few months when we have the heart to get out there and enjoy it.

23 June 2015

Leaf in the wind

The Human Library/Nuit Blanche invited me to be a Human Library Book - I was almost excited, until I saw that they wanted me in my capacity as an artist. One of life's little bitter ironies. If only I were. I wonder where they found their 'librarian"?!

I finally finished a mediocre painting, next in my Engineeress series. Pictures to come. Maybe if I just stuck to subjects I knew how to do, I would not have to be confronted weekly by my total ineptness in most every other area of painting. At one point I got so tired of the ugly voice in my head, that I wrote what I was hearing down, and stuck it on the wall. The voice didn't have much more to say after that.

I find looking at the nonsensical list rather comforting, at least for now. It's hard to ignore the thoughts - they are SO loud. But, looking at them spelled out on a piece of paper, they look kind of silly. I mean, it's simply not true that I have no ability. I'm not uber-talented or accomplished, but who cares? And it's also crap to say that there's no point to me doing art. There doesn't need to be a point. Besides, I like doing it. So there, Mr. Nasty-nasty.

Yesterday I had an important talk with a friend, not something I have much time for. I'm careful who I talk intimately with and I am glad I opened up this time. I'm turning forty this year, and since I'm still, as ever, not satisfied with my life (over-think much?) it was nice to talk to someone else with the same nagging doubts. Great job, lovely family, nothing I wish I hadn't experienced. But, knowing I took many wrong turns.

I know exactly what I would do if I could do it all over again. I would ignore the boredom I felt that day, during my second last year of highschool, when I was sitting in front of my mother-and-child painting, brush in hand. I would not have applied to university to be a mathematician (sounds cool, great one-semester experience, ack I can't regret it...). I would have pursued hobbies aggressively, instead of changing my studies and later my work over and over, searching for who knows what. I see now that I could have had all of that interest and excitement in my spare time, and kept the joy and the toil of art for the day, fed it even.

Or, maybe I would have pursued art as a career, and turned 40 wishing I'd done something more interesting with my life. Art sounds cool, but it doesn't actually leave that much money and time for other pursuits.

I have ever just wandered along.

Next stop:
Berlin.

Berlin, where there are over 600 art exhibition spaces. One of the great art capitals. Where next week I will travel to look for a home for my family, including visiting (.hopefully. the agent is recalcitrant.) one apartment across from the Kaethe Kollwitz Museum. Kollwitz, who was an inspiration to me as a teenager with her incredible paintings of labourers.

There are many redeeming features to my work in the foreign service, and the next part of my life is only one of the many reasons I feel selfish and guilty every time I dream about having a different life.

We're leaving in August. If you come to town, drop me a line through lia@liahiltz.com. I would love to meet you.




15 April 2015

Methodical

Engineeress - rough colour sketch
Nowadays my ambition generally outpaces my ability and knowledge. I must spend a lot of time thinking things over. Happily, Age gives me the patience and interest I need to enjoy painting's early stages.

To your left you can see the latest rough I did for my next painting. I finished the composition, spending hours working out minutae like the placement of purse, engineering plan and shoes. This rough was also meant to work out colour, but I think I will do another rough with acrylic next week. This doesn't feel right yet.

I did a value study (something that answers the question, where is the painting bright, dark or in between?) in pencil, below, but I think it isn't clear enough to work from.

There were several initial rough drawings, like the one to the left, below, but it gives you a feel for the mess I usually start with. Snipping out bits and taping them here and there.

I also love the math part, when I have to figure out what canvas dimensions to use. It's fun to do a bit of algebra once in a while. Bored with my art high school, I enrolled in McGill University to pursue mathematics. It lasted a semester, and it seems very long ago now. But I was super at algebra, and loved it.



It might have been neat to include the very first sketch I did, pretty different from these more developed ones. Next time.


05 April 2015

The Engineeress, revisited

The Engineeress, March 2015

You might remember this picture from a few weeks ago. I spent the last few Mondays doing this Acrylic version.

The pose and mood present the mother's perspective in the first moments after child's birth. It's a singular moment.

I saw Wild last night. I've never seen a movie like it. I saw women's experiences I've never seen on-screen before. Woman to woman, mother to daughter, woman to man, and most crucial, woman and self. It's incredible that it took so long for a movie like this to be made.

Wild is a special movie, and I've been thinking about it ever since.

01 April 2015

James, yellow

March 30, 2015

This is James, two weeks before his third birthday. While I painted this picture, I felt his need for me, his defiance, and the boy he's becoming. I thought about how irressistible he is, and about everything we give up for children. I thought about how I don't need a photo to remember and shape his beloved face.

24 March 2015

Getting somewhere

My painting received its name this week, which I will share a bit later once I get photos of its new setting. It's amazing - my paintings hang in Peru.

I started a painted version of The Engineeress picture that I blogged about earlier this month. It's moving at a slow pace, hence the lack of blog posts. The painting is only half-finished, after several sessions.

So many challenges that I'm not equal to. For example, what is the best colour to put under flesh colour? Skin looks quite good if it has a few colours in it, I know that much, and especially if you put one colour under the surface colours. So I underpainted the hands with a brown, and then wanted to add another colour. Which one would be best, considering my lighting and the overall mood of this story?

International Artist arrives at my door every couple of months, so I flipped through some back issues looking for answers. What a resource these magazines are! I decided to cataloge them with post-it notes. "Portrait painting process." "Explanation of eye level." "Arranging figures." Writing out one sticky made me pretty happy - "Flesh colour underpainting" (!!).

Of course along the way I'm growing familiar with contemporary artists. I've really enjoyed learning about Julio Reyes, Kevin Grass, and and Warren Chang, who make heavier pieces, as fits my personality. But the magazine is a faithful lover of everything, from flowers to still lives, to landscapes and abstracts (though the last one doesn't get much play, really.)

After a few hours of this, I figured I ought to consult my books, since I was floundering around so much. Only to discover, I don't have any books on painting. I have one book called The New Acrylics, and another called The Materials of the Artist, but not how-to stuff. And I further realised, I've not studied painting much. I took Blair Paul's landscape course three times. Valuable stuff, but in effect, I've taken exactly one painting course and read no books. In fairness, I was a visual arts major in high school, but that was long ago (sniff), and the teachers knew better than to waste their time cramming a lot of technique and theory into a red-blooded teenager like me who just wanted to be left alone to Create My Art (sorry, yes, I was that teenager).

So no wonder I don't know what I'm doing!

I'm fine with "self-taught." As long as it's not code for, "not getting anywhere."