November
November 15, 2022
7″ x 9″, Saunders Hot Press 140# Paper
While this subject isn’t of any particular place, it reflects in spirit the type of terrain, moodiness of skies and proliferation of crows and ravens which are found here in Kamloops, B. C., Canada, as close to me as our own backyard:
November is a standout of a month due to its mystery and moodiness, never showing its cards as to what sort of weather event it’ll dish out next, nor what sorts of skies will sweep overhead. There’s always some sort of drama–from having to turn time back an hour, to having the sun set so quickly there are long purple shadows in the middle of the afternoon. Two weeks ago snow began falling at 2am and continued all day to the point where I had to shovel a jogging path in the backyard for our little dog Ashton while the sound of neighbours firing up their snow blowers competed with the scrape of those using their own steam to clear their driveways.
Last week we observed a minute of silence in honour and memory of all those whose lives were sacrificed even while those here at home were praying for their safe return. And then suddenly yesterday while shopping for produce the overhead sound system began playing Christmas carols at nearly the same time when our neighbours to the South will be sitting down to turkey and dressing.
November refuses to rest and feels both agitated and rather somber at one and the same time as though trying to decide whether it wants to be October or December and landing on offering up some of each as if trying them on for size, and then petulantly deciding to do whatever the hell it wants just to see how we’ll react.
Happy Thanksgiving
November 25, 2021
Here in Canada, our Thanksgiving is a rather lowkey meal held mid-October–lowkey, that is, in comparison with the American extravaganza on the fourth Thursday of November. Ours takes the form of a harvest celebration–a fitting end to Summer’s seasonal bounty. And while there is usually a turkey dinner–and yes, it is often family celebrated–no one is going to insist on anyone flying in from any of our three coasts in order to eat it. Nor will there be parades featuring gigantic floating Pillsbury Dough Boys or any loud, beer-laden watching of football. In fact, many in my circle have a modest restaurant version along with a friend or two: a glass of wine, the roasted bird entre, pumpkin pie, coffee and conversation–and then home again to peace and quiet and a spotless kitchen.
That said, having been born and raised in the good ol’ USA, I know exactly how to produce a Thanksgiving card imbued with the Yankee spirit of throwing Kraft Miniature Marshmallows and pineapple chunks into an already sweet, sweet potato dish, as well as cramming oysters and chestnuts (and anything else) into turkey stuffing.
…..wait for it…..
BAM!
It’s my pop-up card version of a Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade (without a helium-filled Bullwinkle).
A Very Happy American Thanksgiving to all!
November
November 1, 2021
Ah, November, most favoured of months, you’ve finally arrived. Oh, that lingering scent of wood smoke when walking the dog at 4:30am; fog lifting above the river at dawn; the return in earnest of sweater-wearing, cozy clothing; the mystery of never quite knowing if that smell in the air really is the precursor of the first flurries, and finally, that blessed silence which can only come when neighbours store away for good those dirt bikes and Harleys.
In honour of the occasion, a seasonal pop-up card…..
The card is folded in half. In pop-up land, any crease becomes the means for popping, and in this case, the two cut outs will be glued onto either side of the crease so when the card is opened, the crease will provide the muscle for lifting the two leaf cutouts….
A second sheet of paper is cut and then hand-painted with watercolour, glued onto the back of the other piece in order to provide additional sturdiness; and as a final touch, an actual Fall maple leaf is glued onto the front. Using diluted Elmer’s Glue serves as a sealant:
Masters of the Trick or Treat
October 28, 2021
Just waiting for something tasty to fall out of a small goblin’s pillowcase….
[sold]
All Hallow’s Eve
October 31, 2020
A reposting of a watercolour with an All Hallow’s Eve feel and flavour . . .
[available for purchase]
As evening grows deeper, they gather together to stand watch through the autumn night.
by Lance Weisser
[sold]
Autumn Wood
October 18, 2020
Painted thirteen years ago, this little watercolour conveys my personal appreciation for the moodiness every Canadian Autumn brings….
Aerosols
June 19, 2020
‘. . . in meteorology, a cloud is an aerosol consisting of a visible mass of minute liquid droplets suspended in a planet’s atmosphere . . . ‘ [wikipedia]
Watercolour is absolutely the perfect artistic medium for tackling the effervescent quality of–ahem–aerosols.
It being a rather challenging subject, more paintings featuring clouds are about to be attempted, and the results posted here in days to come.
Yay! Aerosols!
Sibelius Park detail…..
June 11, 2020
Trying to fit a very rectangularly-wide picture inside the borders of a wordpress blogpost forces one to shrink it to fit. So here is the completed painting, divided in half in order to provide more up-close detail:
Your many comments through this painting progression series are such a tonic and encouragement. Your blogs are a daily boost to my spirits, and certainly to all who read them.
Painting Completed: Jean Sibelius Square Park, Toronto
June 10, 2020
The Finnish composer, Jean Sibelius ” . . . is widely recognized as his country’s greatest composer and, through his music, is often credited with having helped Finland to develop a national identity during its struggle for independence from Russia. . . “
Quite probably, his most recognizable contribution and gift to us was ‘Finlandia’, the tune from which many of us have come to know as the melody for the well known hymn, ‘Be Still My Soul’:
Music is, for me, like a beautiful mosaic which God has put together. He takes all the pieces in his hand, throws them into the world, and we have to recreate the picture from the pieces.
~ Jean Sibelius
The visual objective in this commissioned project, was to infuse the painting with the mood and the tenor of those 1970s years when I and my dear friend, Doug Todd, were living near The Jean Sibelius Square Park in The Annex of Toronto.
Those were challenging years, when we were actors in the ensemble known as Creation II, living communally in a large Victorian red brick Annex house. The experience permanently altered our lives, as what began as an altruistic experiment in communal living and performing, gradually descended into becoming a cult.
Therefore, this painting is meant to embrace the feelings of those times, and bring back the memory of a one acre oasis in the midst of spiritual confusion and personal ambivalence.
The completed work depicting a drizzly November morning, includes the emblematic red brick Victorian homes which surround the square, and a pair of Toronto’s ever-present pigeons to help bring animation to the solid silence of the memorable and remembered Jean Sibelius:
watercolour on treated art board
commissioned by Douglas Todd
by Lance Weisser June, 2020
[note: the rectangular size of this painting, 7″ x 13″, is preventing it being inserted here without undergoing distortion.]
When one reads about the long life of Jean Sibelius and how he had such a strong affinity for nature, for Autumn and Winter in particular, and was, after all, a Finn, whose country embraces the colder months, it seemed fitting to depict Sibelius Square in November. His biographer wrote this:
“. . . Even by Nordic standards, Sibelius responded with exceptional intensity to the moods of nature and the changes in the seasons: he scanned the skies with his binoculars for the geese flying over the lake ice, listened to the screech of the cranes, and heard the cries of the curlew echo over the marshy grounds just below Ainola [his home, named after his wife]. He savoured the spring blossoms every bit as much as he did autumnal scents and colours. . . “
The distinctive, late 19th c. Toronto architecture of the area known as The Annex is unabashedly Victorian, boasting ‘some of the largest collection of Victorian houses in North America.’
‘During this period Toronto also developed some unique styles of housing. The bay-and-gable house was a simple and cost effective design that also aped the elegance of Victorian mansions. Built of the abundant red brick, the design was also well suited to the narrow lots of Toronto.’ [wikipedia: The Architecture of Toronto]
In The Annex, however, there was an elegance reserved only for those who could afford it. ‘Built by the city’s wealthy and mostly found in the neighbourhood they are named after, these houses contain diverse and eclectic elements borrowed from dozens of different styles. These houses are built of a mix of brick and sandstone, turrets, domes, and other ornamentation abound.’ [ibid.]
In this painting, some decisions had to be made as to whether it was going to be about the houses surrounding The Jean Sibelius Square Park, or about the monument dedicated to the composer, or about the overall mood of late Autumn and how it informs the architecture, the park and what Sibelius himself loved about November.
This neighbourhood-emersed, one square acre oasis in the middle of Toronto [pop. 6,129,000], was originally known as Kendal Square due to being beside Kendal Avenue…
In 1959, in recognition of the diligence and passion of Toronto’s Finnish community, the little square was officially renamed Jean Sibelius Square and featured a striking monument with the Finish composer’s likeness crowning it.
My encounter with this petite and charming park was during the socially-disruptive 70s, when The Annex was transformed from a neighbourhood of red-brick mansion propriety, to one of red-brick mansion rooming houses populated by hippies and university students.
I lived in the former red brick Victorian home of a Toronto physician with fifteen other actors–including Doug Todd, who has commissioned this painting of Jean Sibelius Square. We were members of the theatre ensemble called Creation 2 (I for seven years, he for two), which was both commune and theatre ensemble:
Life for Doug Todd and I, and others within the group, was a mixture of great bonding, high demands, internal turmoil and personal confusion. What had started out as a dynamic experiment combining the best of ensemble acting with the ideals of a close-knit communal living, began taking on the telling characteristics of a cult.
The Jean Sibelius Square Park, being a block away from our living situation, provided us with a treed, quiet, people-free place of calm and restoration. The watercolour depicting that 1970s’ oasis-like feeling is now finding its expression as it goes from outlined sketch to the initial wash stage:
The Finnish composer (seven symphonies, including ‘Finlandia’) is memorialized in a tidy little one acre park in The Annex area of Toronto, Canada, nestled on four sides by its red brick house neighbourhood.
The Vancouver Sun’s long-serving investigative reporter and author, Douglas Todd, [https://vancouversun.com/author/douglastodd2/page/2], commissioned a watercolour of this familiar setting he and I knew well when living nearby while in a theatre company commune in the mid-1970s.
A striking memorial was donated by Toronto’s Finnish community in 1959 and the park–originally known as Kendal Square–was renamed Jean Sibelius Square Park. In 2010, the park was officially reopened after a major redesign equipped it with an extensive playground and enhanced outdoor skating rink.
Approaching this watercolour commission, it seemed most appropriate to laden it with a 1970s feel–visually allowing Doug and my memories of Sibelius Park to surface and suffuse the painting with an autumnal feel.
A decision has been made to sacrifice accuracy to the bringing up from deep memories a vision of what we both recall and felt about this little space–this oasis from the complicated goings-on within our nearby commune. And we both remembered it being nearly always empty of people, strewn with fallen leaves, lit by street lamps, smelling slightly of wood smoke from the chimneys of the surrounding substantial, Victorian brick homes of the established Annex community.
Therefore, the end result will disappoint anyone currently familiar with Jean Sibelius Square, and its revitalized, playground-dominated landscape, as well as those who may live around it. None of the actual homes will be depicted, rather homes springing from our memory of those homes are being brought to the surface.
'Serenity now'
March 23, 2020
…..remember this? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ow_9MglZrhs
So now we’ve all been plunged into Seinfeld rerunland.
watercolour, Arches 140# Hot Press Paper, 16″ x 14″
by Lance Weisser
$150.00 (in 3″ mat)
$200.00 (matted and framed)
shipping not incl.
inquiries: weisserlance@gmail.com
Murtle Lake November
December 30, 2019
Murtle Lake–housed within the gorgeous Wells Grey Provincial Park–about an hour’s drive from our home in Kamloops, B. C.–“is world-famous as the largest canoe-only lake in North America. Set in a pristine mountain valley, the north and west arms are approximately 20 km long, and the lake averages three kilometres wide. . . ” [http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/wg_murt/]
watercolour by Lance Weisser
140# Arches Cold Press Paper [sold]
On the Wells Grey Provincial Park website comes this advice to those who wish to access Murtle Lake for overnight canoe/kayaking trips:
“The outlet of Murtle Lake is the swift-flowing and dangerous Murtle River, noted for its many waterfalls. Visitors wishing to hike to McDougall Falls must use caution in Diamond Lagoon.”
“Murtle Lake is a large lake and subject to gusts of strong wind. The lake often becomes choppy in the afternoon. If moving camp it is best to do so in the forenoon. Never try to out-run a storm; beach at the first available opportunity and wait out bad weather. The Park Operator has emergency communication and a satellite phone link located in the Ranger Cabin on the south shore of Murtle Lake.”
November
November 26, 2019
November is my most favourite of months! In the Southern Interior of British Columbia where we live, November is one of those seasonal cusp months–like March–when no one quite knows what they’ll be waking up to in the morning; a month of mystery and change, full of windy days, foggy mornings, early evenings, and sometimes the schedule-disturbing onslaught of an unexpected blizzard.
This painting–now hanging in the Kamloops Arts Council ‘Small Works Show’–expresses and uses my painterly imagination to bring to the viewer all that I feel about my most favourite Season:
watercolour by Lance Weisser, 7″ x 10″, on art board
for Kamloops Arts Council ‘Small Works Show’
November 24 to December 24,
Old Courthouse, Kamloops, B. C.
Winter Corn
February 26, 2019
Yes, it is probably apparent by now that I have an ongoing fascination with Ravens. I’m not alone. There’s a woman in the historic house section of our city of Kamloops not-so-affectionately known by her neighbours as ‘the crow lady’, whom I depicted in an earlier post entitled ‘Where The Heart Is’:
She is known as ‘the crow lady’ because starting in late autumn and all through the ensuing winter, ‘crow lady’ fills a number of her vintage bird baths with cat kibble as corvid bird food. Her historic home then becomes wreathed in a continuous flight of ascending and descending crows, ravens, and starlings, and their distinctive din of calls and caws as they attack her bird baths.
I do believe there’s even a by-law ‘crow lady’ continuously violates, but it doesn’t seem to dint her enthusiasm for ensuring her lovely noisey visitors are kept fed and satisfied.
In tribute to my friend Joan (aka ‘crow lady’), I offer up today’s honouring of local ravens, these few trying their best to find themselves a few kernels of corn.
No doubt when they’re through scratching away here, they’ll give up and head over to Joan’s.
The Old Rookery
February 21, 2019
EVERY SO OFTEN I go truant and abandon my blog, but at least this time around it hasn’t (quite) been an entire year (!) I might be alone in this, but my temptation is to spend so much time daily exploring the interesting posts of fellow bloggers that I end up spending less and less time actually painting. My solution to this apparent addiction is to leave my own posts in limbo until enough progress has been made to once again continue.
In any case, thank you for your patience and understanding, and here is my latest painting entitled ‘The Old Rookery’, depicting a scene from my imagination, drawing on the spirit of book illustrators from the days of my youth:
Thank you for reconnecting with me and I hope your Winter is going well for you!
where the heart is
March 24, 2018
Our city, Kamloops, B. C., is a native word meaning ‘the joining of rivers’ (where the North and South Thompson meet), and was founded by the Hudson Bay Co. in 1812. As it grew and developed it became a railroad city (one of two cities in Canada where both CN and CP intersect). The most gentrified residences are found on St. Paul Street, where many bear historical plaques for passers-by to read and gain knowledge of.
Turn of the Century–c1904–homes are difficult to maintain and keep in tiptop condition, as many reading this can appreciate. Keeping up any house is expensive and challenging.
I befriended a woman who has outlived her spouse and is just able to keep the basics going while having to block off the upstairs from heat in the Winter. Budgeting simply to stay put and keep living in her beloved heritage house before facing the inevitable and dreaded ‘downsizing’, her joy is feeding Crows, Ravens and Starlings using cat kibble poured into oversized vintage bird baths. This certainly doesn’t make her the darling of her neighbours, but has earned her the moniker ‘the crow lady’.
She’s never seen this painting because I fear it may upset her, yet it was painted with affection and as a tribute to her intrepid spirit and unwillingness to let go of that which she dearly and completely loves:
‘Where the Heart Is’
watercolour on Arches 140 lb Hot Press Paper, 12″ x 16″, collection of J. Weisser
….November
November 14, 2015
It is the most blessed of months heralding the muted pallet–the toned-down greens, beefed-up greys, complex browns, accents of burnt orange, titian–trees simply/complexly themselves, displaying their line, frost-kissed leaves flashing their last colour, refusing dismissal.
Wonderous November--leaf-whipping, mini-cyclones, clouds suddenly letting forth face-lashing first flakes on towards frost-spongy earth–days framed by late mornings and early evenings, one’s home truly one’s castle, warming against the elements.
Showboats gone, one paddles purposefully, keeping warm, the lapping sounds musical, deep-throated rooks ricocheting their call round rocky bends echoing, bouncing off glassy surfaces, wood-smoky mists rising.
Banished is the garish, overly-festooned–any and all too-muchness falling away to let be what simply is…..
November
Winter’s cusp
Summer’s compliment
Spring’s concealer
Mount Peter
January 21, 2012
To look up the face of Mount Peter–Â (the sibling of the larger Mount Paul), the signature mountains overlooking our city of Kamloops, B. C.–is to look upon the core of a mountain. These are mountains so ancient, all that remains are the inner cores–their souls. Â Time and erosion have scarred and left them displaying a beauty it takes the eye a while to appreciate.
The roads about their base feature yellow diamond warning signs cautioning drivers to watch for Big Horn Sheep.
Big Horn Sheep (courtesy Wikimedia)
As a watercolourist, it took me a good two years before I attempted the challenge. Â They are unusual subjects, and not easily rendered. Â It was wise for me to wait, simply because I was so accustomed to the forested peaks of the Coastal Mountains that I regarded these as ugly. Until they finally become beautiful to the newly-arrived, these ancient and weather worn heights are probably best not attempted at all by art enthusiasts like me.
'Peter's Face'
Paint-off Challenge
January 20, 2012
A few years back I belonged to The Artists’ Studio, and the twenty of us each submitted a favourite photo which we thought would make for a good painting.  Those twenty photos were then subjected to a voting process whereby a single photo would end up becoming the subject which all twenty of us would base a painting on.
So–one photo–twenty artists–twenty different paintings based on the same photo.  And the winning photo was taken by a Member of The Artists’ Studio of The Icicle River in Levenworth, Washington, U. S. A.
-
studio challenge poster
And here then, is both the photo and my treatment of it . . . (but I addded a couple of hikers and a little dog just for interest) . . .
- photo and framed watercolour
Dr. M. S. Wade House, c.1905
January 10, 2012
Kamloops, British Columbia, is privileged to have an area within walking distance of the downtown core that features many historic and stately homes. Â These Heritage Houses were built around the turn of the 20th Century when Kamloops was still a relatively new Incoporated Municipality (1893).
This particular home is known as the Dr. Mark S. Wade House, built in 1905 by the Eye, Ear and Throat Specialist who came to Kamloops in 1895 from Victoria, B. C. Â It is located at 95 St. Paul Street West, a street known for its Victorian houses, many featuring a prominent veranda. Â Because Kamloops can get significantly hot in the summer, the front porches still provide a welcome respite from the heat of the day.
'59 St. Paul West'
November
January 7, 2012
About the most exciting month is November. Â Moody, always in flux, caught between Autumn and Winter, November features days that are intriguing to wake up to. Â I never know if, when glimpsing out the window first thing in the morning, I’m going to see flakes of snow drifting down or one of those assure November skies.
Not far from the town of Clearwater, British Columbia, (about an hour’s drive North) is Wells Gray Provincial Park. Â One of its most pristine lakes is Mrytle Lake, and I’ve done two watercolours of this same lake.
The first is rendered in a very traditional style, relying on a photograph . . .
"Wells Gray November"
Another version of the same painting was done from memory, not relying at all on any photographic image. Â Both paintings are now in private collections.
"Wells Gray November"
Autumn
January 5, 2012
Autumn. Â The very word speaks in tones that touch something deep and still. Â In my youth it was an invigorating Season, full of piles of leaves we’d shape into forts or rooms. Â The air would be tinted with a hint of smoke, the chill of it pinking my ear lobes and rouging my cheek. Teachers would begin rehearsing things for Christmas. Â There was an unspoken wonder over feeling the days shorten, and a little thrill over seeking out a forgotten, yet familiar scarf and hat. Â Underneath was an anticipation over when the first snowflakes would drift down, hoping it would be during waking hours–and then came the day when the shout of a classmate interrupted a math or geography lesson– “Look! Â It’s SNOWING!” , followed by a crush of bodies as we pressed against the windows, marvelling, wishing it would just keep going until there was nothing for it but to hunt in the attic for our sleds.
And now? Â I’m in the Autumn of my life. Â Who knows, but maybe even the Winter. Â The Season is now pensive, thoughtful. Â There’s a contemplative quality watching the last of our Red Maple’s orange hands let go and join the others. Â One thinks of endings more than beginnings–pasts more than futures. Â But the sweetness if anything, Â is made the more complex–like a well-mulled cider–for Autumn is made for memories– for kicking through the remains of the Summer and recalling Seasons long gone, while hoping for one or two more . . .
"Autumn Wood"
weisserwatercolours 