Monday, May 16, 2011

Canadian Artist Robert Genn; daughter Sara's recollections spoken to her father and told to guests at Robert's birthday on May 15th 2011.

My weekly letter arrived from Robert Genn...'my friend..the artist and can listen to my audio interview and conversation I had with Robert Genn some time ago. go to BLOG and be happy.

Now here in this letter I read words and sentences from Robert's daughter and you must understand that this is in part what I could perhaps as a 'soul-minder' wish I could deliver to each my own two children... 24 [son in Stockholm]] and 44 [daughter in Maui].
It is beautifully written and spoken by Sara, Robert's daughter, and painting's both intimate and personal and all full of a daughters love and admiration and family bonds..of gratitude to a man and father still living and vibrantly producing art..part of memories forever. A salute to a loving father expressed by daughter Sara.

Sit back and read and think and absorb..sense the sensitivity and angst and wondering in the writers words. Words seeking for more answers and hoping life never will end...I can relate to the situation but viewed from the 'other side' sort of. Anyway here it is ...Enjoy,
Courtesy by Publisher Johan Sandstrom, BComm.

'A Letter from Robert Genn':

Step by step, a path

May 17, 2011

Dear Johan,

Last Saturday night, Carol gave me a great big birthday party. Among the fourteen
friends who spoke was my daughter Sara. Here, in part, is what she said:

"I have a memory from my childhood, of walking with my dad, somewhere in Brittany.
I was about eleven. We were talking about the Post-Impressionists, about waiting
all day for the best painting light--the magic hour. It was one of my firsts--my
first recollection of our first conversation on a subject my dad and I are still
working on.

I remember how we walked together side by side, his ideas tumbling out
like paving stones on a path in front of me. Sure, he had given me a journal and a
camera, he'd even ordered for me my first endive salad. But it was our back and
forth that etched the journey."

"There's a more recent memory of following my dad up a snow-patched slope in Yoho
Park in the Rocky Mountains. I mimicked his pace and frequent stops, and carried
his lemonade and sandwiches. He paused at every detail of nature. 'Bracket Fungi.'
'Clarke's Nutcracker.' 'Indian Paintbrush,' 'Moss Campion.'" A moment of panic. I
went cold and looked up into the larches.

How on earth was I going to get the
entire contents of my dad's brain into my own brain before the end of our allotted
time? The task felt colossal and ultimately hopeless. I overtook him on the path so
as to better hear his classifications bubbling up behind me. After a few moments of
silent walking I heard him say, 'You have my good calves.'"

"Once, we bought a bunch of books in a new-age bookshop. There was one called,
"Stoking the Creative Fires" by San Francisco author Phil Cousineau. It's an
anthology of quotes by historical artists designed to inspire new generations--
making sense of how to be creative. When tackling the fine art of building a
creative life, however, the author quotes his own grandfather: 'Step by step, a
path; stone by stone, a cathedral.'"

"I've had a master class in the reverence for both the awesome and the meek. Yoho
got its name from the Cree word expressing amazement. Within the amazement
of dad's beloved, immoveable painting subjects, he's shown me how to kneel at the
beauty of a lichen-covered stone."

"Recently, my dad and I were talking on the phone from our respective studios--I
was on 20th Street in New York and he was on Beckett Road in Surrey, British
Columbia. He was asking me what I was up to. I was painting my usual broad
strokes. He said to me, 'Sara, you are capable of doing anything you bloody well
want.' That's pretty well dad's message to everybody."

Best regards,


PS: "Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
(Kahlil Gibran)

Esoterica: The ultimate in sharing can come about among your children. It is an
opportunity too wonderful to pass up. Don't let the joy pass you by.

Current clickback: "Guido Reni" - Why an Italian High-Baroque painter rated so
high for eye appeal on some current brain scans in some research currently being
done in the UK. You might be surprised.
Your comments will be valued.

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