Star in Hand
Hinterglas
11.5" x 28"
It was 1976 and the olympics were in Montreal. What better time to be at my grandfather's studio in the Laurentians. I was there with my aunt and uncle, Peter Flinch and others to name a few. I, being at the threshold of my scholastic career, was being advised by all sides on how to pursue it. My parents wanted me in marine biology. My uncle was in favour of photography. My grandmother was for geology. There was talk of engineering. I was confused. My grandfather listened to all this but said nothing. The arguments went back and forth long into the night.
A few days later I was in the kitchen when my grandfather called me out onto the patio. It was a wonderful night, stars blazing across the sky, the mountains on the horizon. He sat in a chair all bundled up in blankets and asked about all this career thing that everyone was advising me about. He was silent for a moment and then said:
Carlo, you must go out into the night some time and look at the stars. See them all. Find one star that you feel is yours. When you have it you must take this star, take it in hand and hold it. This will be your star, for life. It will guide you and sustain you. When everything fails you it will be what holds you to your path. It will be not just a part of you, it will be you. Never let it go.
That was his advise. I was still confused. Within a year my grandfather passed away.
Moving on, I failed miserably in my scholastic pursuits. I did a tour, of all things, as an airplane mechanic (don't ask, it's complicated) and finally settled on going back to school at the Ontario College of Art. Art it seems was my calling, much to the chagrin of my parents.
Years later I moved to he west coast, far far away from the noise of what I should be and to the place were I wanted to be.
I had a dream one night. My grandmother was in a room and she was telling me to go into the house, the studio in the Laurentians. But the house was in an aquarium. I couldn't go there, it was too small for me. It was so sad and I cried in my dream and in my sleep.
The next day I went to see a healer, Roberta is her name as I recall. Love Roberta! I can't remember anymore why I was seeing her but I suspect it had to do with my where-am-I-going-with-my-life crisis. At the session, she suggested that we go through a process where I would "go somewhere"? Anyway, I lay down on a table and she guided me to someplace which turned out was my grandfather's studio as I had noted in my previous night's dream.
Where are you? she asked.
I'm at my grandfather's home, his studio in the Laurentians.
Is anyone there?
My grandfather. He's at the door.
Is he saying anything?
No, he's just signalling me to go in.
What is he saying?
Nothing.
Ask him to say something. Call to him.
I'm trying but he's not saying anything. He's just waving me to come into the house.
Okay...then go in...is he saying anything now?
No. He's moving off to the dining room and he's standing by the window there.
Can you talk to him?
No.
Okay, That's fine. Just go with it. What's happening now?
He's looking out the window.
What is he looking at?
The back yard.
What's there?
A star!
...a star?
Yes, a star.
Do you know what this star is?
Yes. I need to take this star.
Can you take it?
Yes, I'm grabbing it. It's in my hand. I can see its light between my fingers. It here, in my palm. I have it.
That's good?!?!? What is your grandfather doing?
He's smiling, he's nodding.
Some say it's hypnosis. Others say it voodoo bullshit. But it was magik. I know, I was there!
In 2006 I became the trustee of the Karl May estate. I have a home built around it. It is full of his paintings. I've been painting for decades and all I have to show for it is a home with his works, not mine. My paintings were shit! Not even worth hanging. They had no meaning, no style, no essence of what I am. I grew despondent and angry. Here I was with all this great art and I had nothing to compare it to.
One night, in a stupor, I stood in front of a piece, a Hinterglas work I got as a wedding present, cursing and swearing, shaking my fist. My fist, looking at my fist, opening my fist...and in my palm was the star. I realized that it wasn't about competing with him. It's about joining him. He's showing me the way, has been all along. It's the star's meaning. He's been my mentor but I wasn't listening, not seeing.
I ran to my studio, found a piece of glass and started to paint, I mean really paint! I had the idea, the form, the technique, all the glory. The styles and pieces that I've worked on for all these years, decades, the inspirations, the advice from my teachers, all came into place. And the next piece came just as easily. And the next. I hung them on my walls, all of them, proudly, moving aside some of his works to make room. My home, my self, is now what I am.
Star in Hand is homage to this journey. And yes, the glass is cracked in several places. It isn't perfect and that's okay.
A few days later I was in the kitchen when my grandfather called me out onto the patio. It was a wonderful night, stars blazing across the sky, the mountains on the horizon. He sat in a chair all bundled up in blankets and asked about all this career thing that everyone was advising me about. He was silent for a moment and then said:
Carlo, you must go out into the night some time and look at the stars. See them all. Find one star that you feel is yours. When you have it you must take this star, take it in hand and hold it. This will be your star, for life. It will guide you and sustain you. When everything fails you it will be what holds you to your path. It will be not just a part of you, it will be you. Never let it go.
That was his advise. I was still confused. Within a year my grandfather passed away.
Moving on, I failed miserably in my scholastic pursuits. I did a tour, of all things, as an airplane mechanic (don't ask, it's complicated) and finally settled on going back to school at the Ontario College of Art. Art it seems was my calling, much to the chagrin of my parents.
Years later I moved to he west coast, far far away from the noise of what I should be and to the place were I wanted to be.
I had a dream one night. My grandmother was in a room and she was telling me to go into the house, the studio in the Laurentians. But the house was in an aquarium. I couldn't go there, it was too small for me. It was so sad and I cried in my dream and in my sleep.
The next day I went to see a healer, Roberta is her name as I recall. Love Roberta! I can't remember anymore why I was seeing her but I suspect it had to do with my where-am-I-going-with-my-life crisis. At the session, she suggested that we go through a process where I would "go somewhere"? Anyway, I lay down on a table and she guided me to someplace which turned out was my grandfather's studio as I had noted in my previous night's dream.
Where are you? she asked.
I'm at my grandfather's home, his studio in the Laurentians.
Is anyone there?
My grandfather. He's at the door.
Is he saying anything?
No, he's just signalling me to go in.
What is he saying?
Nothing.
Ask him to say something. Call to him.
I'm trying but he's not saying anything. He's just waving me to come into the house.
Okay...then go in...is he saying anything now?
No. He's moving off to the dining room and he's standing by the window there.
Can you talk to him?
No.
Okay, That's fine. Just go with it. What's happening now?
He's looking out the window.
What is he looking at?
The back yard.
What's there?
A star!
...a star?
Yes, a star.
Do you know what this star is?
Yes. I need to take this star.
Can you take it?
Yes, I'm grabbing it. It's in my hand. I can see its light between my fingers. It here, in my palm. I have it.
That's good?!?!? What is your grandfather doing?
He's smiling, he's nodding.
Some say it's hypnosis. Others say it voodoo bullshit. But it was magik. I know, I was there!
In 2006 I became the trustee of the Karl May estate. I have a home built around it. It is full of his paintings. I've been painting for decades and all I have to show for it is a home with his works, not mine. My paintings were shit! Not even worth hanging. They had no meaning, no style, no essence of what I am. I grew despondent and angry. Here I was with all this great art and I had nothing to compare it to.
One night, in a stupor, I stood in front of a piece, a Hinterglas work I got as a wedding present, cursing and swearing, shaking my fist. My fist, looking at my fist, opening my fist...and in my palm was the star. I realized that it wasn't about competing with him. It's about joining him. He's showing me the way, has been all along. It's the star's meaning. He's been my mentor but I wasn't listening, not seeing.
I ran to my studio, found a piece of glass and started to paint, I mean really paint! I had the idea, the form, the technique, all the glory. The styles and pieces that I've worked on for all these years, decades, the inspirations, the advice from my teachers, all came into place. And the next piece came just as easily. And the next. I hung them on my walls, all of them, proudly, moving aside some of his works to make room. My home, my self, is now what I am.
Star in Hand is homage to this journey. And yes, the glass is cracked in several places. It isn't perfect and that's okay.