Thunderbird, composite, by Canadian artist, M.L.Holton |
Monday, March 27, 2017
Thunderbird by Canadian Painter, M.L.Holton
... Exploration & experimentation are main-stays of what I do as an artist ... Trying new things, especially when painting, means exploring new tools and the unknown to investigate a medley of thoughts and feelings. This particular effort is a bit crude, but, to my eye, it has huge potential. ... Starting with a ruby red undercoat, then applying a layer of metallic paint, then dabbing on coloured dots with the back-end of a paintbrush to outline a suggestive bird-in-flight, then letting strong LIGHT play all over the surface, well, wow, YES, I am liking it. Cumulatively, it creates for me a compelling & evocative untold story: one of quiet power, strength, ephemera, that whispers of Time, both ancient & modern. - All of it inspires me to reach higher, pursue farther, get further ... enjoy.
If interested in purchase, kindly contact the artist direclty for size & price. Currently, it is unframed.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
SPRING-A-LING! on Lake Ontario, by M.L.Holton
... the weather is erratic these days, to be sure, BUT there is solid warmth in that Sun now, even if the temperature is still hovering below freezing ... Courage Comrades! It's a comin'!!!
UPDATE, April 2nd: Amazing what difference 10 days can make ... It's LOVELY out now. But there is still a whiff of winter weather in the air ... In the meantime, ENJOYing this SUN!
*The temptation with this final shot was to 'blow it out' as much as possible to force a high-contrast with the stark shadows. I've done some of that here, but I think it could be cranked up a bit more ...and might, in the end, be better, in colour. See below ...
Lake Ontario Beach Strip by M.LHolton |
Snow Fence on the Beach by M.L.Holton |
Natural Sculpture on the Lake Front by M.L.Holton |
Lunar Beach, Photo by M.L.Holton |
Lake Ontario, Photo by M.L.Holton |
Snow Fence 2*, Photo Credit: M.L.Holton |
Snow Fence 2B. Photo Credit: MLHolton |
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
Granny Paints: New Short Story - by Margaret Lindsay Holton
Northern Friend. - Photo by Donald Marsh. |
During those long pleasant days, I discovered Winifred to be a kind, thoughtful, charming, sturdy, insightful and inspiring little woman. For my contributing efforts, she gave me several of Donald's images, (sample shown.) I cherish them to this day. Her 'story' - re-written into this quasi-fictionalized account - has greater resonance as I grow older. Elders - from any culture - are one of our most precious natural resources ... RESPECT.
---
Granny
Paints
She
had said dinner at 5 pm.
At
82 years of age, she could call dinner at any time she liked, so I had said,
ok.
I
arrived a little early, as usual, around 4:30, with the mandatory strawberry
and rhubarb pie carefully tucked into my bulging carry bag. I had also picked
up a half-pint of Haagan Das vanilla ice cream. I rang the doorbell and waited.
She took a long time to answer.
Her voice squeaked from the other side, “Just a minute.”
Five minutes passed before I heard the latch turn, and she said, “OK! Give the door a push.”
Her voice squeaked from the other side, “Just a minute.”
Five minutes passed before I heard the latch turn, and she said, “OK! Give the door a push.”
Ah Winifred. To see you thus. Bent over double, world weary and worn, but ever always, beaming from eye to eye with your impish generous grin. We greet warmly and I see that your eyes are clear and bright today. Winifred. Winnie. Win. I evoke your name to remind myself that these crystal moments are the best gifts.
You
are weak. I can see that every movement is a struggle for you. You are using
both your canes today. Our eyes acknowledge the gnawing of age but we both put
on a brave face. We joke. We tease each other. You are too weak to make the dinner,
but this too is understood and also unspoken. I order you to sit down while I
rummage in the kitchen for this and that. I move briskly, efficiently, and make
periodic dramatic gestures to entertain you. To please your good eyes. You,
lover of Life, remark on my new hairdo and shimmering silk blouse. I push
buttons on the microwave and remark how one must tackle high-tech fearlessly.
You smile. And we both remember stories from your youth: those years in the
North, without stove, sink or refrigerator.
On
the counter I see that you have managed to prepare a small salad of sliced
avocados, tomatoes, cucumbers, green peppers, carrots with an assorted mixture
of salad greens. I know that it may have taken you over an hour to prepare. You
would have had to remove the vegetables from the fridge, wash them, cut them,
pull down the serving dish, and then arrange the items artistically.
You did this for me.
You did this for me.
As
we sat down to dine at the table by the window, I leaned over and put a cushion
behind your back for comfort. You rubbed your legs and said the arthritis was
worse than ever. We chatted amicably about nothing. And when I rose to get the
pie and ice-cream for dessert, you are childishly happy and whisper
conspiratorially as you pick up your fork, “I’m not supposed to have pie…” Our
old secret. Later, you insist I have a small tumbler of brandy. You don’t
drink, never have. I retrieve the bottle from under the cupboard and pour myself
a stiff one, then lean back, and listen, as you tell me yet another tale of our
family history.
You
are telling me a new story about Eskimo Point up on Hudson
Bay. How my father, and your only son, Donald, had found the old bull
seal while out trapping with my grandfather, and your husband, Archie. You
remembered the day like it was yesterday. And in the telling your hands drift
to the tabletop to fidget with the white tablecloth.
The
sky had been uncommonly bright and clear that day, the blue so remarkably blue
that you had spontaneously dubbed it a colour from your paint box ‘Robin
Eggshell Blue’.
Archie had been out walking and
checking the trap-line on the bluff with his son Donald tagging along. The North Sea was quiet with a gentle north-eastern breeze
lapping the shore. The beach pebbles glistened like forgotten pearls fallen
from Sedna’s throat. The lime-green sea grass flickered rhythmically imitating
flapping bed linen.
Archie
was bent over a trap, busy, while Donald was idling about, twisting a braid of
sea grass, when they first heard it. The breezy blissful scene was pierced by a
startled screeching scream. Donald scanned the shoreline. Half a mile away,
down on the rocks, a large bull seal was struggling inside the captive
restraints of a mangled net. Plastic red and white buoys clattered against its
rolling sleek body. Another ungodly belly wail sent the ever-present seagulls and terns skyward.
Archie
and Donald ran down and tried to grab hold of the bulky mess. But that old bull
barked and struggled furiously against their intrusive and awkward hands. Archie
told Donald to stay put, he was going to get his tranquilizing gun at the camp
and he ran off.
Donald stood off, bewildered by the moaning creature. He tried to think what to do. The seal heaved its heavy body again in its never-ending struggle to set itself free and as it did so a shard of entangled grappling iron jammed further into its already bloodied side.
The tortured yelp was unbearable.
Donald stood off, bewildered by the moaning creature. He tried to think what to do. The seal heaved its heavy body again in its never-ending struggle to set itself free and as it did so a shard of entangled grappling iron jammed further into its already bloodied side.
The tortured yelp was unbearable.
Donald
ran forward to the seal with his outstretched hands to pull out the rod. As he
approached the bull turned on him and roared in anger. Donald fell down
backwards onto the beach pebbles and burst into frustrated tears. He slowly
began to crawl over the stones towards the bull seal extending his bruised
hands. “Please, please, let me help you.” His own murmurs of pain punctuated the
moaning groans of that majestic beast.
Tentatively, gently, Donald placed his small hand through the netting onto the side of the heaving animal. This unusual child-caress momentarily stilled the wounded creature and Donald was able to move his hand carefully to the rod. He paused for a moment, speaking softly, then, with a strength he didn’t know he had, he pulled the rod clear and clean from the belly of the bull.
Blood gushed out at the boy. The giant sea slug convulsed in a painful spasm and Donald yelled in terror as the mammoth dead-weight crushed down upon him. He lost sight of the sky.
Tentatively, gently, Donald placed his small hand through the netting onto the side of the heaving animal. This unusual child-caress momentarily stilled the wounded creature and Donald was able to move his hand carefully to the rod. He paused for a moment, speaking softly, then, with a strength he didn’t know he had, he pulled the rod clear and clean from the belly of the bull.
Blood gushed out at the boy. The giant sea slug convulsed in a painful spasm and Donald yelled in terror as the mammoth dead-weight crushed down upon him. He lost sight of the sky.
By
the time Archie returned with the gun he could not see Donald anywhere. He
glanced back over the ridge to the trap line. He briefly thought how timid his
little son was.
Archie
turned and shot skillfully into the still moaning bull seal. He then slowly
approached the now inert mangled mess. When the seal lay perfectly still,
hardly breathing, he bent over the creature to roll off the entanglement of
buoys and netting.
It
was then that he first saw Donald’s blood covered hand holding the metal shard
extruding from under the bull’s belly. Frantically, and with a ferocious strength,
he heaved off the half-ton carcass. The buoys clattered forward onto the rocks.
He
gingerly lifted up the limp body of his only son. “God, dear God, not my boy!”
He carried Donald over to the embankment, and laid him down softly on the sea grass. As he wiped the warm blood off Donald’s ashen face he saw that he was still breathing. Archie placed his big hands onto the boy’s small chest and administered a clumsy CPR all the while praying.
“God, dear God, no.”
He carried Donald over to the embankment, and laid him down softly on the sea grass. As he wiped the warm blood off Donald’s ashen face he saw that he was still breathing. Archie placed his big hands onto the boy’s small chest and administered a clumsy CPR all the while praying.
“God, dear God, no.”
Winifred
paused and glanced out the window to the early night sky. She watched the
clouds move for a moment, then turned and looked at me, “You know, Archie, your
grandfather, wasn’t, and never was, much of a religious man.” I nodded slowly.
I knew that.
“Anyway,”
she said, brushing the tablecloth …
Donald finally sputtered to
life, choking and frightened.
He gazed up into the eyes of his ever-loving father and said, “Did we save him, Dad?”
He gazed up into the eyes of his ever-loving father and said, “Did we save him, Dad?”
Winifred
gave a gentle cough. Her sad sweet smile met my all-seeing gaze. Quietly, she said, “Your father was a strong little boy, Ruth. Much stronger than his
own father ever believed.” She rubbed the top of her legs. I nodded slowly
again and watched her age before my eyes. “I’m
sorry dear heart,” she continued, ”I’m
getting a little tired now. That has to be enough for today.”
I
helped her from her chair and asked if she wanted me to stay until she was
re-settled in her room. No, no, she said, just come back next week, maybe we
can take a little walk outdoors. I promised her we would walk the tree lane
behind the parking lot if she felt up to it. The yellow crocuses were just
starting to push up, new spring shoots were bursting forth. I could come a bit
earlier on Saturday, I said.
“O’
goodie! ” she exclaimed, as she struggled forward on her canes, “I’ll bring my
paints!”
And I said, “Yes Granny, that’s a good idea. Bring your paints.”
And I said, “Yes Granny, that’s a good idea. Bring your paints.”
---
Granny Paints: Short Story - Copyright - Margaret Lindsay Holton.
Contact the artist for reproduction. / Photograph by Donald Marsh in Collection of M.L.Holton
Saturday, February 25, 2017
CANADADA: TAKE TWO - CD Album, Spoken Word & Garageband Antics by Canadian Artist, M.L.Holton
Canadian Artist, MLHolton - Spoken Word & Garageband Antics |
35 Tracks of Potent MLH Poetry fused with her Electropop Jive!
Yup, 65 minutes of SERIOUS FUN!
Limited Sesqui-Centennial Release - ONLY 75 Copies!
A SOUND CELEBRATION for CANADA's 150th. Hurry!
PLACE YOUR ORDER HERE!
LISTEN TO Additional SAMPLE TRACKS at CANADADA.BANDCAMP.COM
(You can pick up a copy over there too. And even become a VIP member!)
RELEASED NOON, March 15th, 2017.
UPDATE: April 2nd, 2017 - "A rich musical adventure" that 'tickles' the ear"! -
Super Review of the musical aspects of the CD,
via Glen Brown, Founder & Editor of Greater Hamilton Musician
UPDATE, June 29th, 2017 -and great review by Ryan McGreal,
Editor-in-Chief of Raise the Hammer
UPDATE: April 2nd, 2017 - "A rich musical adventure" that 'tickles' the ear"! -
Super Review of the musical aspects of the CD,
via Glen Brown, Founder & Editor of Greater Hamilton Musician
UPDATE, June 29th, 2017 -and great review by Ryan McGreal,
Editor-in-Chief of Raise the Hammer
The LAST FIVE YEARS: New Paintings by M.L.Holton - BOOK
Please to announce the release of a new book publication:
The LAST FIVE YEARS: New Paintings, by Canadian Artist, M.L.Holton |
Double page spread sample 1. |
Double page spread sample 2. |
The LAST FIVE YEARS: New Paintings
by Canadian Artist, M.L.Holton
Just under 100 new images, in a lovely 9x11 hardcover book.
Published by MLH Productions/Acorn Press Canada
Accepting Orders NOW!
Thanks for supporting my work!
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
New Series: Mountain Studies - New Paintings by M.L.Holton
I've been thinking a lot about mountains lately, as a natural 'form': how they tower above us, yet draw their vitality from below (like volcanoes, or mountain ridges that are the result of massive shifting geo-plates).
Humans engage with these 'forms' in a variety of different emotional ways, either with veneration (appealing to hope and lofty sentiments of aspiring majesty etc,) or with fear (of a greater unknown, an object forbidding and insurmountable, of threatening power etc.)
I want and need to explore this further ...
I'll be drawing on my past experiences of time spent in & around the 'new' mountains of British Columbia and Alberta, first as a teen and then as an older woman. And I'll be considering too the 'older' mountains of Quebec & Ontario, those old rollers who lack the sharp edges of the West. I grow up and around the ancient strata of the Niagara Escarpment of Ontario ...
My preferred tool for this exploration is a trowel, or painter's spatula - with a very sharp flat edge to 'carve' and 'excavate' paint. Inherent is this idea is the notion of 'prospecting' - or hunting - for minerals, gold, or food and water - hunting for nourishment - literal and metaphysical ...
(If interested in the above works, let me know.
For now, I'm not framing anything.)
UPDATE, March 27th.
Have finished the triptych - with a gold leaf 'vein' running through all 3 boards.
I will be framing only the centre board ...
Mountain Study - HOPE - by M.L.Holton / acrylic on board / FOR SALE |
I want and need to explore this further ...
I'll be drawing on my past experiences of time spent in & around the 'new' mountains of British Columbia and Alberta, first as a teen and then as an older woman. And I'll be considering too the 'older' mountains of Quebec & Ontario, those old rollers who lack the sharp edges of the West. I grow up and around the ancient strata of the Niagara Escarpment of Ontario ...
Mountains BECKON ... they draw us to them.
Mountain Study - Prospecting - by M.L.Holton / acrylic on board - FOR SALE |
(If interested in the above works, let me know.
For now, I'm not framing anything.)
UPDATE, March 27th.
Have finished the triptych - with a gold leaf 'vein' running through all 3 boards.
I will be framing only the centre board ...
Triptych - Mountain Core - Acrylic with gold leaf, by M.L.Holton, 2017 |
Centre panel - Triptych - Mountain Core, by Canadian painter, M.L.Holton |
Monday, February 6, 2017
The Frozen Goose, Canadian Film - One Year Later
One Year Later - Final scene location for The Frozen Goose film |
One year ago today, after nine months of rehearsals, the local cast & crew dove in for an intense 6 days of film-making in North Burlington, Milton and at Westfield Heritage Village in southern Ontario, Canada.
One year later, this completed 25 minute Canadian film, about the psychic devastation that World War One wrought on one rural family, is a Reel Keeper! - Thanks to a superb cast: Leslie Gray as 'Leslie', John Fort as 'Tom', Rod McTaggart as 'Uncle Harry' - with youngsters Hannah Ralph playing 'Bella' & Cameron Brindle as 'Charlie! - Plus, a shout-out to local film champion, Nathan Fleet for keeping me rolling in the right direction during all aspects of production.
(Here are some additional 'behind-the-scenes' from the 1st Day of the shoot.)
Releasing on September 11th, 2016, with a World Premiere at the Art Gallery of Burlington, it was very gratifying to see & hear audience's reaction, (from 2 sold-out screenings), for all the hard work all had put in. Overall, since 2014, there have been 18 pieces of PRESS written about this film. The First Edition DVDs also sold out within the first two weeks of release.
Slowly but surely, as Producer, Director and Writer, I am now planning the BEST way to carry this small, yet timely, project forward ... Two distributors have offered Contracts. But, in the current topsy-turvy world of internet broadcasting, their EXCLUSIVE 5 to 7-year terms may not be, in fact, the best way ahead ... While I weigh out the pros and cons of this aspect of production, this wonderful family-friendly film is now Available ON-LINE - GIVE A GANDER!
Cameron Brindle, as 'Charlie', getting ready for Take 4 at another private location in Halton County. |
Watch & Share The FROZEN GOOSE on-line
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
'Last Stand': The Distemper of Our Times, by M.L.Holton
'Last Stand' by M.L.Holton - SOLD |
It seems that we, as humans, just cant leave well enough alone and MUST dump our sh*t everywhere ... The recent emergence of Donald Trump as President in the US amplifies this tendency. I do recognize that he was 'elected', just as Stephen Harper was 'elected' in Canada over a decade ago - BUT, when he so clearly wants to obliterate anything related to a healthy relationship to the planet, I, as so many others, MUST resist.
Technological advancements - and science - are pushing out the necessity for fossil fuels to power us and industry. A NEW era of sustainability & renewable energy is very much within our grasp. Yet, for the moment, the old dogs of the military-industrial-complex, fueled by fossil-fuel global conglomerates, are HOLDING ON. Increasingly, it looks as though they are determined to hurl us all into another World War. --- Do any doubt it won't be nuclear?
There is a great sadness at this thought. A great overwhelming sadness that this is what the dominant bullies in humanity now seek : total Self-destruction - total Obliteration.
And for WHAT? Money? Power? It is incomprehensible to me what they want - aside from more MONEY & POWER. It seems they are desperate to demonstrate their ability to DESTROY - to be CRUEL - to any who oppose them. This has gone waaaay beyond race, religion, ideology or anything else - it's about POWER and CONTROL.
Read, as example, about Steve Bannon - Trump's current Chief Strategist. Basic info can be found on Wikipedia: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Bannon (Take a brief look as well at the 'editing history'.) Here too is an insightful profile that outlines who & how he sets out to manipulate mainstream media. https://www.bloomberg.com/pol.../graphics/2015-steve-bannon/ - Both articles demonstrate his craven need to CONTROL.
His old boss described him as the 'Leni Riefenstahl of the Tea Party movement.
Others have called him the Master Puppeteer ...
Personally, I think it most telling that he's been divorced THREE times.
Anyway, that's my mini rant for today. It is important, for me, to KEEP ON doing what I do - as an artist, as an observer, as a witness to our times - to not become overcome by the 'shock & awe' these super-pumped-up dudes are trying to engender. Just KEEP ON and -
LIVE a GOOD Life.
Above all, be KIND to Mother Earth.
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Cathedral Skies by M.L.Holton
Have had sudden interest in this photographic image, 'Cathedral Skies' . A result of a 'aha moment' when last out for a winter walk .... If you would like to purchase, as a print or as an image on another products, please review in detail via my FINE ART AMERICA Retail Outlet. Great quality, fast shipping & a good price! Sorry about watermark here - but you get the idea ... :) Have supplied handy price list below too, so you can assess cost. - mlh
Monday, January 16, 2017
Frida Kahlo at Home - Book Review by M.L.Holton
Review pre-amble: Recently, I was invited to review a book about artist, Frida Kahlo. The book itself, the production of it, was splendid. But the more I considered the content, the more I found it was raising more questions about the artist and her work then it settled ... To wit:
Artist Frida Kahlo's Blood Bath at Casa Azul -
Book Review by M.L.Holton
Review of 'Frida Kahlo At Home, by Suzanne Barbezat' - by M.L.Holton
Published by Frances Lincoln Limited. 160pp, illustrated, 8.9" x 10.2", hard-cover.
All images reproduced from the publication. ISBN: 9780711237322 US $35 / CDN $45
Little known beyond the art circles of her own lifetime, Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo's ghoulish self-portraits throw a very long shadow today. This is surprising, given that Kahlo painted only 200 artworks during her entire life. One third of those works were her broody, introspective self-portraits, often depicting herself in a state of physical or psychological suffering, with the majority of them amplifying mutilated blood-gushing body parts.
Their love story was tempestuous from the start. Kahlo,
younger by two decades, also joined the Mexican Communist Party, and, though
petite and frail in comparison, she soon became an enamored disciple of this,
as she wrote, "Pot-Bellied Genius". She courted him when he was still
married to his second wife, and he, impressed by her seduction and burgeoning artistic
sensibilities, succumbed. Their subsequent marriage was rift with upsets,
break-downs, philandering (on both sides), divorce and a re-marriage.
Looking at the reproductions of her paintings in this book,
it is apparent that Kahlo created a kind of hybrid and, to my eye, pseudo, folk-art.
Some art historians and personal friends, like French founder of the Surrealist
movement, Andre Breton, tried to place her 'style' into the Surrealist camp. (He
arranged her first exhibition in France.) But it is a label that she
herself vehemently rejected. Mostly, her work was private and obsessively autobiographical.
This story is now published - Raise the Hammer, January 16th, 2017.
Artist Frida Kahlo's Blood Bath at Casa Azul -
Book Review by M.L.Holton
Review of 'Frida Kahlo At Home, by Suzanne Barbezat' - by M.L.Holton
Published by Frances Lincoln Limited. 160pp, illustrated, 8.9" x 10.2", hard-cover.
All images reproduced from the publication. ISBN: 9780711237322 US $35 / CDN $45
Little known beyond the art circles of her own lifetime, Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo's ghoulish self-portraits throw a very long shadow today. This is surprising, given that Kahlo painted only 200 artworks during her entire life. One third of those works were her broody, introspective self-portraits, often depicting herself in a state of physical or psychological suffering, with the majority of them amplifying mutilated blood-gushing body parts.
Most contemporary international art critics and collectors are
aware of these disturbing blood-soaked self-portraits. Yet, for all her notoriety
of today, (with her equally uncompromising full-frontal uni-brow stare-downs), it
is intriguing to note that there was only one exhibition of her art work, ever,
while she was alive, in her home and native land of Mexico.
So, how did the current 'Cult of Frida' develop?
Travel writer and anthropologist, Suzanne Barbezat, provides
substantial clues in her heavily illustrated coffee-table book, entitled, "Frida
Kahlo at Home'. It is a well-documented treasure trove of Kahlo
ephemera: with striking interior and exterior photographs of Kahlo's primary residence,
La Casa Azul, aka The Blue House. The book also contains intriguing snippets of
personal letters and memorabilia between herself and her husband, Diego Rivera
- as well as her assorted lovers, including Russian communist revolutionary
leader, Leon Troksky, and the American-Japanese sculptor, Isamu Noguchi. Many
chronological reproductions of Kahlo's work flush out this tribute.
As the book press release states: "La Casa Azul, now one of
the most visited museums in Mexico
City, was the birthplace of the artist, Frida Khalo.
It was the home where she grew up, where she lived with her husband, Diego
Rivera, and where she died. She also spent significant periods of time in the
house convalescing: first, when she contracted polio as a small child and again
at the age of 18, after the trolley accident, which left her critically
injured. Confined to her bed in casts and orthopedic devices and in constant pain,
the bedroom at La Casa Azul is where Frida began to paint the vibrant and
unflinching portraits and self-portraits that would make her name'".
But, Who Was She? Frida Kahlo, christened Magdalena Carmen
Frieda Kahlo y Calderon, was born in Mexico to a German father, Carl
Wilhelm Kahlo, (who changed his name to Guillermo Kahlo when he emigrated), and
a Spanish-Mexican mother, Matilde, (his second wife.). She was raised with certain privileges,
attending a private German prep school, and receiving a pious Catholic
indoctrination via her very devout mother.
Photo of Frida, taken by her father, 1926. |
Frida only went 'native' after she began her lifelong association
with famed Mexican artist and self-proclaimed atheist, Diego Rivera. First, as his
student, then later, as his wife. They were married in 1929. She was 22, he
was 42.
Diego had already built a substantial artistic persona as a 'Mexican
nationalist'. He was very vocal about the class struggle and revolutionary war
that defined his nation. Magnetic, and a polarizing provocateur of the labour
movement, his public mural work amplified his knowledge of Mayan traditions and
mythologies, pre-and-post colonial-revolutionary atrocities, and his abiding
interest in the political struggles of the working-class.
It was he who assembled the pre-Colombian art collection
that now resides in Anahuacalli, their
'country house'. (This house was completed, after they both died, by architect
Juan O'Gorman and Diego's daughter, from a previous marriage.) It was he who
was "intent on ensuring his and Frida's legacy." This, even after he
married his long-time mistress, Emma Hurtrado, a year after Kahlo's death. "He
created at trust through the Bank of Mexico, leaving The Blue House and Anahuacalli,
as well as their contents, to the people of Mexico." He appointed another
long time female friend, wealthy arts patron, Dolores Olmedo, (and one of his
earliest models), as director of that trust.
Dolores and Frida were child-hood rivals. Dolores often
bought Rivera's work, and only bought Frida's work at Diego's request.
"She openly did not care for Frida or her work." Nonetheless, the trust
was established, and after a modest re-staging, the Frida Kahlo House/Museum,
aka The Casa Azul or Blue House, opened to the public in 1958.
Twelve years after her death, a low-budget documentary,
entitled, 'The Life and Death of Frida
Kahlo as Told to Karen and David Crommie' made its debut at the San
Francisco Film Festival. In 1983, a weighty biography was written by art
historian, Hayden Herrera. In 2002, famed Mexican actress, Salma Hayek,
co-produced, and starred in, the Oscar-winning feature film, 'Frida'.
Today, Frida Kahlo has been whole-heartedly 'adopted' by a fervently
nationalistic Mexican government and citizenry. They now claim her as their
own. Kahlo's distinctive self-portrait, dressed as she invariably was, in the traditional
Tehuana costume of an indigenous maiden, has even appeared on Mexican currency.
She has achieved iconic, near 'saintly', national status.
Who, then, was Frida's husband, Diego Rivera? Diego was born to
two middle-class teachers in 1886 in Guanajuato. His mother was a devoted Catholic
mestiza (part European, part Indian) and his father, a criollo
(Mexican of European descent). When he was six, his liberal-minded family moved
from Guanajuato to Mexico City.
Rivera became a Marxist, and a member of the Mexican Communist Party.
In 1907, (the year Frida was born), Diego Rivera was
continuing his arts and political studies in Europe.
He met and became friends with several famous artists of the day, including Pablo
Picasso, Marc Chagall and Piet Mondrian. He studied Cubism in Spain and
toured Italian frescos. He developed associations with European and Russian 'social
justice' revolutionaries active in the Soviet Union.
He met and befriended Leon Trotsky.
Rivera's first serious government commission, in 1923, was for
a series of murals for the Secretaria de Educacion Publica in Mexico City. This work soon established his prominence
in what would become known as the Mexican Mural Renaissance. Painting in a
style deeply indebted to pre-Colombian culture, he created large complex panoramic
images of Mexican daily life. As he wrote, "When
art is true, it is one with nature. This is the secret of primitive art and
also of the art of the masters—Michelangelo, Cézanne, Seurat, and Renoir. The
secret of my best work is that it is Mexican." Raised radically, he soon
became 'Mexican' to the core - and Frida adored him.
Detail from 'Freida & Diego' (1931). She called herself Freida, not Frida then. |
Over time though, they did hold on to each other. When
Rivera died he wanted his cremated ashes blended with hers. This never
happened. But, in keeping with both of their passionate and rather narcissistic
personalities, it remained a 'romantic ideal'. .... Some could say that Rivera understood the necessity of
'roots' far better then she did.
He undoubtedly understood her dual-identity crisis.
He had struggled with this himself, experimenting with European styles of
painting, before embracing, whole-hog, his Mexican lineage. Frida, on the other
hand, struggled, played the role well enough, but suffered. Always suffering.
Diego would, as example, have her pose, dressed in peasant garb, for his
murals. She, educated, erudite and well-traveled, would pose.
Detail from Rivera's 1940 mural, 'Pan American Unity', showing Frida in native dress. |
Clearly though, she was no peasant.
Truth be told, fabricating and mythologizing their lives was
not beyond either of them. Frida re-invented her birth date to coincide with
the National Revolution. Rivera laid claim to fighting with Zapata. Both
stories are untrue.
The sole exhibition of Kahlo's painted works in Mexico City was organized
near the end of her life at the National Arts Institute by an old family friend
and school mate of Frida's. Not to miss the occasion, Kahlo arrived in an
ambulance. She was wheeled into the exhibit on a bed.
She died several years later, in July of 1954, aged 47: some
suspect of suicide. It is common knowledge that during the last years of her
life she lived on pain-killers. Her deteriorating condition, including the
amputation of her leg, severely diminished her focus to produce much new work.
Instead, she wrote and drew in journals. Many are now preserved in the Blue
House.
Kahlo's art constantly shows the struggles she endured through
various stages of 'identity'. After the Revolution, in 1922, when she was
fifteen, she was one of only thirty-five girls admitted to the newly formed National Preparatory School. She studied the
natural sciences there in the hope of advancing into medicine. However, after
her childhood bout of polio, (that shortened and damaged her leg), and the later
bus crash, (that battered her body, leaving her spine, pelvis and collar bone
broken), she was often sickly and bed-ridden. It was during the latter recovery,
while convalescing, that she began to experiment with paints.
Her self-portraits display the conflicting realities of two
opposing world views. Euro-petticoats and hand-plucked lace versus
Mexican-peasant garb and hand-woven cotton. Quite often there is gushing blood
everywhere.
Here's one horrific example:
A Few Small Nips', (1935) by Frida Kahlo. Now in the collection of the Dolores Olemedo Museum, the original Trustee of Rivera's Estate. Note Frida's euro-style shoe. |
Detail, 'Love Embrace of the Universe' by Frida Kahlo (1949). |
Now, in 2017, from the vantage point of Canada's current
cultural perspective, (especially in the wake of the recent Joseph Boyden
'native ancestry' imbroglio), Frida Kahlo could undoubtedly be dragged over hot coals
for so openly impersonating, expropriating and interpreting the indigenous
culture within the boundaries of the country where she was born and raised. Rather
then revered as a national cultural icon, she could just as easily be vilified
as a 'Settler Expropriator'.
Many post-colonialists would unequivocally agree: both she
and Diego were expropriating Settlers. But, within the ever-spinning politics
of the 'Greater Good of Nationalism', most Mexican nationalists - evolving
within their own young democracy - would argue that, no, she - and he - were
not expropriating anything. As artists of their day, they represented the new
and emerging Mexico,
freed from the shackles of early colonialism and class servitude.
Putting aside the topsy-turvy push-and-pull politics of contemporary
nationalism, Frida was very clearly her own woman with a unique, albeit exceedingly
eccentric, outlook on life. Hailed by some as a feminist, for her fearless autobiographical
and brutal depictions of personal pain, there is no question that the rich European
and Mezo-American cultures in which she lived and breathed, shaped and informed
her wider world vision.
Barbezat's book is full of well-researched trivia that adds
yet another layer of historic sediment to this now very identifiable 'Mexican' artist.
Semi-deified now within the lexicon of Mexican history, Kahlo's cremated
remains lay at rest, entombed in the Blue House Museum. Frida Kahlo, artist -
and forever the wife of Mexican artist, Diego Rivera - could never have emerged
from anywhere else.
Frida, at home, in the Blue House, dressed in traditional Tehuana garb, circa 1940. |
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Year End Photo Choice - by M.L.Holton
It's always fun & interesting to 'review' work from the previous year. Last year was busy: 7 art shows, my film The Frozen Goose, various art jury duties etc, but oddly, there is one photo that kind of sums it all up for me. This image was shot, wide angle, while at the Rockton World's Fair in the fall of 2016, then tightly cropped to place this father-daughter team - front-and-centre.
It's just so NOW.
Locally & globally.
- enjoy -
NOW - by M.L.Holton, Canada - Copyright protected. |
Monday, December 19, 2016
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Terrific Review of The FROZEN GOOSE in The View!
Front Cover of The View - Current Edition, Dec 2016 |
Thrilled by this review (with a FRONT COVER!) by Canadian film critic, Rachel More.
Very complimentary, perceptive & kind.
What a Christmas gift!
Having trouble reading?
Try the on-line version - Swipe thru to PAGE 13.
Back issue: Volume 22, Issue 49. Dec 15-22nd, 2016.)
Back issue: Volume 22, Issue 49. Dec 15-22nd, 2016.)
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
WAAH's 'Winter's Palette' at The Cotton Factory
Happy to be included in the inaugural WAAH's exhibition at The Cotton Factory, 'Winter's Palette', juried by the Women's Art Association of Hamilton Exhibition Committee. The piece I've submitted was recently posted on this blog, so rather then post it
again - I am offering up some visually warming 'iPad pastels by MLH' ... The more I work with this digital application, the greater seem the possibilities. Yes, signature "Serious Fun"stuff! -- Would make fantastic promo posters or decor art, don't you think?
iPad Pastel, Copyright by Canadian Artist, M.L,Holton - Dec 4th, 2016 |
'Winter's Palette'
Open Reception & Christmas Party
This Saturday, Dec 10th: 1-4pm
Please Join Us!
WAAH logo. Established 1946. |
Where? At The Cotton Factory
270 Sherman Street, Hamilton, Ontario
iPad Pastel, Copyright by M.L.Holton - Dec.4th, 2016 |
Exhibition, on 3rd floor, runs until February 25th.
Come check it out in the 'Co-Work' space!
The Cotton Factory map:
Come check it out in the 'Co-Work' space!
The Cotton Factory map:
UPDATE - Great show!
Friday, December 2, 2016
New 2016 Painting by Canadian Artist, M.L.Holton
'In Flight' by M.L.Holton, 2016, acrylic on primed canvas - with gold highlights |
Not 100% sure about the title yet, but, for now, it's called, 'In Flight'.
... It looks 'tropical', doesn't it? ...
However, the disappearance of the polar ice in the Arctic
is an on-going worrisome reality. I had thought to
call this piece, somewhat ironically, 'Northwest Passage'...
The way things are going, I still might.
If interested in purchasing this piece, please
get in touch for final dimensions & price.
It's now signed, dated & numbered.
I will be framing it in a black wooden frame, soon. - mlh
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Very Special 'One-Time' Christmas Screening of short Canadian film classic, The FROZEN GOOSE!
(NB: this teaser trailer is NOT available on YouTube,
I don't know why that 'option' is on this player ...
Just discovered it wont play on Apple products either.)
Just discovered it wont play on Apple products either.)
Plus, just received this nice mini review by James Gike, in Burlington Lifestyle Magazine.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Lawren Harris, Canadian Artist breaks auction record
Mountain Forms, By Lawren Harris, Painted in 1926 |
'Vintage' Canadian painted art is experiencing a bit of an up-tick. Steve Martin, famed comedian, is not only a collector, but a promoter of Lawren Harris's works. He curated a special show of the artist's pieces at the Art Gallery of Ontario in the fall. Harris has also been the object of several memorable biographies, most noteworthy, Joan Murray's incisive pictorial bio.
As a practicing artist, long interested & influenced in the Harris's painting subjects and techniques, I am thrilled that the man is receiving the greater international attention his work truly deserves.
One regret is that I know I will never OWN a Harris. His works are very much out of my price league now. However, I take some comfort that I do have a few 'Harris' of my own ...
You see, I began, some years ago, to embark on a series of 'Paint Poems' (by me) that honor the man, his techniques & his aesthetic sensibilities. I was never trying to slavishly 'copy' him, rather, I 'followed' him, in order to learn more about his sense of composition and how he captured light. The 'sizes', per se, didn't matter to me. It was his colour sense, what he SAW in landscapes,how the works moved me, that, in turn, inspired me.
I KNOW I got very close to his SENSES as a result.
A few of my 'Paint Poems to Lawren Harris' follow.
I love them. I hope you will too. :)
Paint Poem 2: To Lawren Harris, by M.L.Holton |
Paint Poem 3: To Lawren Harris, by M.L.Holton |
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