Posts tagged ‘First Nations art’

life and times of a famous native canadian artist…

(this was originally posted in September 2017)

ha!  i say that jokingly!  because i’m out here on the range, going on 21 days now without a note of art conversation, idea expressed verbally, or hint of a hand to hold while under the mighty Milky Way.  she’s new moon boys.  and so, alone under the almighty, with eagles roosting down by the river (what music they make first thing in the morning!) and the great wide open:  there is room to stretch the “art making arms”.  we have some good looking pieces but we’re also getting down to the bottom of the paint barrels.

so last night around 7 i stowed the gear, set a table for one, lit a candle, cracked open a Paul Jaboulet Aine Cornas Domaine de Saint Pierre (2012), sparked up the youtube for a little dinner music and instead got attracted to a documentary about alien abductions.  i watched the nutty scenes, heard the kook house stories, heard the so called experts blabbering on about all this stars and moon and space stuff and…  well the truth is i didn’t know if it was the creep show scenes they were mustering in the doc (the greys were coming out of a bright white light), the gacked out music on the doc soundtrack, the fancy French Rhone, or the 21 days alone at sea, but somehow that alien abduction jazz started rattling my rusty cage!

i put my knife and fork down and looked out the jumbo windows which face the east, they were wide flipping open of course, and kind of wondered if there was anything out there.  the pooch was sitting at attention, head up, ears tuned into something going on out there to the north east.  you have to remember:  out here in the boons, there is no light pollution, no noise pollution, no neighbours, and a whole lot of SFA once the lights go out.  SFA i mean if your jiggly mind doesn’t start playing tricks.

of course we have this guy, Roger, in the house.  Shell brought him in from Ottawa and so here he is, in the house, staring at yours truly, Travis Walton wannabe/Little Boy Blue, alone at his dining table…

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well 21 day days alone…  (see what i mean?), nights too, might cause a fuss when you’re sailing across the universe.  slip that stupid documentary with the spook house scenes in there and you’re cooking with gas.  so i booted up my Facebook and wrote a farewell message to the world, going on about this alien abduction thing and told them i was tired of hiding behind the couch with my bottle of french vin and was going to scurry off to bed, like Yoda in his death scene.

i got up to my room with a view and saw this guy staring at me!!!

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“An Ojibwe in Quebec:  A Self Portrait on June 14th”, 2004, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches.  Morgan H. Collection.  (We’re holding onto it for now.)

so by this point in time i’m about ready to soil my drawers.  i thought a little night music might help ease the creeps and me into la la land so i hit the random button on the remote and on came this:

(note the house on the open range and the one tree…  )(looking kind of like a place we sort of know…  )

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my crib, on the open range…

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sunrise on the range, Sept. 21.  the last full day of summer…

and so!  i made it through the night.  i did NOT get abducted by aliens, at least not that i can remember, Roger is still over there gawking at me, and “A Self Portrait on June 14th” is still in the collection here, on hold.  i thought i’d jump in the car and take a little ride into the city and see the madness first hand, up close, where i could catch a whiff, and maybe dust off the cobwebs that will surely develop after 21 days alone at sea, but a cooler and calmer mind at the other end of a long distance phone call this morning put those plans on ice.

and so it is back to the brushes, here, deep in Indian Summer, safe and sound back on earth.

(kind of peculiar how things work themselves out…  we’re in it now:  the empty nest…  and i’m back where i started: on the range, alone, in sweet and beautiful Indian Summer.  outside there is a blaze of sun, it’s Sept. 17th, 2021, 25 C at 4 p.m., Friday night, no kids in the house.  it’s just me and Roger.  even the pooch is gone.  cats are all gone.  mice are moving in.  but in this paradise, river running slow, lawn mowed to golf green, eagles singing down by the river, blank canvasses on the table, acrylic paint at the ready, brushes too, and a sky filled with stars in a few short hours, an artist can get along.  we’re in a room with a view and…   i must tell you:  the other day, in the afternoon, while out here alone i saw something big moving across the east field.  it was bigger than a coyote and i wondered about someone’s pooch out on the prowl, but this thing was bigger than a pooch!  i grabbed the binoculars and zoomed in to see it HAD to be a wolf.  if i had to guess, about 250 yards away, meandering across the field going south to north, and BIG!  so i yelled at it and waved but it didn’t acknowledge me, unlike the eagles.  that big wolf just kept going, in no hurry, north across the east field, over the fence and into the almighty out back.  it’s only the second time i’ve seen a wolf.  i asked the locals up at the general store if there had been any word about any wolves running and she said this place is full of wolves.  yikes.  so back in Sept. 2017 when poochie was sitting here looking out to the night, everything super quiet, pitch black, the two of us on our own, me with my splashy Paul Jaboulet and a fancy glass and poochie with her ears up and tuned into something moving out there in the darkness, just to the north east of us, maybe?

anyway.  we don’t have any splashy Paul Jaboulet today nor do we have poochie, or the cats, or the kids or anything else.  what we have is the great wide open and some beautiful climes and the night…  well we’ll just see about that Orion up there at some point in time.  and Nokomis too, maybe watch her set.  to the tune of some Chet Baker and whatever pilsners these fine folks can deliver, up there at the local.  if it IS Indian Summer, bring it on.  i’d be saying:  Nice to see you old friend.)

New Art Cards from Mark Seabrook!

This just in: my first batch of art cards featuring some of my favourite paintings! The cards are blank on the inside, are 5×7 inches, and comes with a coloured envelope and a clear plastic wrap! Awesome! This is the first batch, we have another bundle coming in soon featuring more of my fave paintings from over the years.

If you want to place your order directly, send me an email!

And so here we are into another summer! Miigwetch. My old twinravens summer mission statement from that ultra and super wild summer of 1995 still stands! And stands tall! So here it is again for good measure, a cool 26 years later! Live, love and learn!

Day Filthy 13 in Quarantine

got home to the range on June 10th, woke up the 12th and saw this! wowza! everything i’d imagined! nothing but bird song and the river. complete peace and victory too!

another morning on the range, another fab sunrise. i’m still on Scotland time and so am up around 4 a.m. my dad always used to say: if you’re awake, say thanks, and start your day.

looking to the north and the back part of the open range. out there it is wild! the horses are out there but beyond them, who knows.

another sunrise on the range: i’ll be honest! it’s very weird out here alone like this. almost feels like being on the famed “desert island”. for LP’s i have: Al Stewart Year of the Cat, Fleetwood Mac Rumours, Steve Miller Band Greatest Hits, Wings Venus and Mars, Aerosmith Toys in the Attic, Zeppelin Physical Graffiti, T Rex The Slider and Bob Seger Night Moves. that’s it!

we’re out here waiting for our next gig but thank goodness we have some reinforcements moving up. there should be a gang arriving on Tuesday of next week. i hope so! because if i stay out here any longer, on my own, i’ll end up like those 2 guys in the movie: The Lighthouse…

(oh boy… )

sunrise this morning, on day Filthy 13, Friday, June 18th. she’s a doozie. and thank goodness for the splash of rain! i was up around 3 a.m. and saw the lightning flashing to the south, no thunder! i took a stroll on the front lawns and the fireflies… wow. what scenes they create. thank goodness they don’t fly in pairs… if you get my drift.

no art! my painting supplies are still in O Town. i’ll be going there next week to get them. and my guitar!

Woodland School style by twinravens

(This was originally posted way back ages ago…  )

here is my version of the Anishnaabe Woodland School of art, founded by the great Norval Morrisseau, and introduced to the art world in Toronto, way back in September 1962.  what a great artist journey/adventure Norval M. went on after that!  all the way to the National Gallery of Canada in 2006/07.  i’m a long way from having my work in the N.G.C.!  but here is my version anyway:

A Self Portrait on November 30th by Mark Seabrook

Self Portrait on November 30th, acrylic on canvas, 30×40 inches.  Private collection.

January 2009 001

Feeding the Wolf, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Private collection.

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Anishnabe at Full Moon, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

Bear Clan with White Raven

Bear Clan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

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Water Spirit, Homage to Norval M., acrylic on canvas, 24×36 inches.  Private collection.  (the paint wasn’t even dry when that one went out the door!)

Moose Nahmiwan
Moose Nahmiwan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches. Painted on the Range in March 2015.  Private Collection.
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Indian Residential School Survivor, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Available for purchase:  $4000

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Anishnabe Woodland Nights, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Private collection.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches, getting ready to ship out.  Private collection.

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Me, standing next to a Norval Morrisseau acrylic on canvas at the National Gallery of Canada.  A lot of us anishnaabe boys who are painters owe a salute to the great Norval M. and his high and mighty work.

(This is March 10, 2021: A quick art show for you recent followers of the twinravens blog:  we have more on the way!)

memory lane: life and times of a famous native canadian artist…

(this was originally posted in September 2017)

ha!  i say that jokingly!  because i’m out here on the range, going on 21 days now without a note of art conversation, idea expressed verbally, or hint of a hand to hold while under the mighty Milky Way.  she’s new moon boys.  and so, alone under the almighty, with eagles roosting down by the river (what music they make first thing in the morning!) and the great wide open:  there is room to stretch the “art making arms”.  we have some good looking pieces but we’re also getting down to the bottom of the paint barrels.

so last night around 7 i stowed the gear, set a table for one, lit a candle, cracked open a Paul Jaboulet Aine Cornas Domaine de Saint Pierre (2012), sparked up the youtube for a little dinner music and instead got attracted to a documentary about alien abductions.  i watched the nutty scenes, heard the kook house stories, heard the so called experts blabbering on about all this stars and moon and space stuff and…  well the truth is i didn’t know if it was the creep show scenes they were mustering in the doc (the greys were coming out of a bright white light), the gacked out music on the doc soundtrack, the fancy French Rhone, or the 21 days alone at sea, but somehow that alien abduction jazz started rattling my rusty cage!

i put my knife and fork down and looked out the jumbo windows which face the east, they were wide flipping open of course, and kind of wondered if there was anything out there.  the pooch was sitting at attention, head up, ears tuned into something going on out there to the north east.  you have to remember:  out here in the boons, there is no light pollution, no noise pollution, no neighbours, and a whole lot of SFA once the lights go out.  SFA i mean if your jiggly mind doesn’t start playing tricks.

of course we have this guy, Roger, in the house.  Shell brought him in from Ottawa and so here he is, in the house, staring at yours truly, Travis Walton wannabe/Little Boy Blue, alone at his dining table…

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well 21 day days alone…  (see what i mean?), nights too, might cause a fuss when you’re sailing across the universe.  slip that stupid documentary with the spook house scenes in there and you’re cooking with gas.  so i booted up my Facebook and wrote a farewell message to the world, going on about this alien abduction thing and told them i was tired of hiding behind the couch with my bottle of french vin and was going to scurry off to bed, like Yoda in his death scene.

i got up to my room with a view and saw this guy staring at me!!!

IMG_2139

“An Ojibwe in Quebec:  A Self Portrait on June 14th”, 2004, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches.  Morgan H. Collection.  (We’re holding onto it for now.)

so by this point in time i’m about ready to soil my drawers.  i thought a little night music might help ease the creeps and me into la la land so i hit the random button on the remote and on came this:

(note the house on the open range and the one tree…  )(looking kind of like a place we sort of know…  )

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my crib, on the open range…

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sunrise on the range, Sept. 21.  the last full day of summer…

and so!  i made it through the night.  i did NOT get abducted by aliens, at least not that i can remember, Roger is still over there gawking at me, and “A Self Portrait on June 14th” is still in the collection here, on hold.  i thought i’d jump in the car and take a little ride into the city and see the madness first hand, up close, where i could catch a whiff, and maybe dust off the cobwebs that will surely develop after 21 days alone at sea, but a cooler and calmer mind at the other end of a long distance phone call this morning put those plans on ice.

and so it is back to the brushes, here, deep in Indian Summer, safe and sound back on earth.

(today is March 4, 2021, minus 20 C this morning.  i love to look back: ah what glorious days there, looking back at them now.  and in Indian Summer, on the range, a paradise!  we’ll get back there some day.)

Paintings, Writings, Music and road tripping Native Style

Power Bird on the Range, acrylic on canvas board, 7×9″, Artist Collection.

in the spirit of Pride, the Power Bird on the Range, artwork by Mark Seabrook. ah yes was it the summer of 2013 when we walked out to what became “the Art Bridge” and re visited our landscape painting? the Art Bridge is part of the laneway into the range, back home on the island. and the “twinravens” landscape is something we were developing way back in art school: many moons ago. developing yes. unfortunately not connecting the dots, never following through. the idea was brewing alright and one day when i get home to the range i’ll snap a photo of one of the paintings from that era, where the brewing was beginning! in recent years, in full brew (ha!), we managed create paintings like this:

For Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women, Acrylic on canvas, 36×58 inches

i’m pretty happy with that one. many thanks of course to the good folks at Abstract Expressionism, c. 1950.

Body, Mind, Spirit. Acrylic on canvas board, 12×12 inches. Artist Collection.

we’re going to hang onto this one as we were almost there with the idea. what we need though is a block of time back at the bridge! maybe we can get back there in August, as i have been thinking about that one!

Clouds over Lake Mindemoya, acrylic on canvas, 16×20″. Artist Collection.

we want to remember too, that THIS was part of that landscape idea from art school. this one was painted during 3rd year and thank goodness we still have this sketch! the large painting of this idea is the first painting i sold! many thanks to those doctors from Toronto. (Doc: if you’re reading this please contact me as i’d love to see the big painting again.)

Anishnabe at Full Moon, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20″. Artist Collection.

we want to remember we still have this going on and its going to continue to go on!

The Lottery Ticket in Thunderbird Stories Edition One

i want to say Aanii and Boozhoo to any of you folks here from the UTM Scribes on Instagram! “The Lottery Ticket” is a part of the horror story: SUN INFINITY MOON which is my first attempt at a novella.

the famous: Moosonee Proof!

yes we kind of rushed through production last summer and what they gave us was a book full of howling errors! errors like cockroaches, i didn’t see all of them until i started paying attention last autumn. so if you come across one of these copies, what it is is the Artist Proof. sorry about that. it is being retooled and we are soon printing the cleaned up version with a brand new cover. example of howling errors: right there on the cover: the clown changed my “coarse” language to his “course” language…

you see this is what happens when…

yeesh.

anyway. we move forward.

Very much still active a full 25 years later!

the famed twinravens Summer Mission Statement. words we lived by up until just a short 4 years ago when this road trip started. we have had bits and pieces of this mission statement covered since but some that have not been covered are: “swim out beyond the confines of the cover, into the big water where the big fish like to go”, “spend a morning, afternoon and evening with your mom and dad and have them tell you about the times when they were your age”, and “design your own tattoos”. my tattoos have faded away, now long gone. (Meen Geezis translates to: Berry Moon, or July)

Page 178, from INFINITY

yes there is a lot of coarse language and mad capped high jinx going on within the pages of INFINITY but the same can be said about SUN and MOON. this ain’t no Indian Disneyland type story.

Refer to: this piece at cbc.ca

The Doc Project·Personal Essay

My adoptive parents tried to erase my Indigenous identity. They failed.

Kim Wheeler was adopted during the Sixties Scoop and fought to find her way back to her culture

Kim Wheeler · Posted: Jun 18, 2020 5:29 PM ET | Last Updated: June 18

well that is Kim Wheeler’s tale. mine is quite different. my parents did NOT try to erase my Indian identity. what they did instead was save my life.

but going through that adventure: The 60’s Scoop, for me, sure did open a lot of doors where a natural born artist like me can stand and see a great many things, people included. i was one of the lucky ones.

Words and music by Shag Shaganash

i didn’t write any part of that one. that’s all Shag and his work. but that’s my band and lets hope and pray one day we get that show back on the road. the world could use some NR.

Words by Mark Seabrook, Music by Shawn Corbiere, Vocal by Jen B.

i did write the words to this one and you can hear in the lyrics: that 60’s scoop experience… many thanks to Mr. S.C. for the music and the great Jen Brunelle for the vocal. Danny Boy on the drums! (Hey that record was nominated for a Juno Award! just saying.)

well we are here and it is now: we’re on the swanky 9th. the cook is working up something very nice for lunch and the afternoon is all ours: what to do with Saturday afternoon?!!! ha ha. i say that knowing the mad capped twinravens classic: “What to do with Sunday afternoon?” (on my youtube channel), some of you found offensive and accused me of being obtuse!

Summer in the city

what we have to do is make up our mind which is our best foot and put it forward! GO!

Social Isolation in Sea Major

week 6 in the books, week 7 on the door step:  the madness is full serve but we’re still in the game!  so far…  so good.  we’re past keeping our fingers crossed and now we’re just going with it.  if we ever get out of here, back to that island, we’ll be coming in “aged”.

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the crazy stuff you see in every direction these days.  as an anishnabe on the road, you can bet if i want to set me feet in the Manitou River, i’ll be setting my feet in the Manitou River.

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mental slippage is starting to show!  check this dude out:  he’s taking his walker up through the drive through at Rotten Ron’s!  as you know the in house dine is closed.  but this dude…  he’s going through counter clock.  i thought maybe it was a suicide in progress.  and check out Riverside to the right, one car rolling down the road at 6:30 p.m., Billings Bridge, O Town.  normally that road would be jam packed with insane drivers!

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our beloved mayfair, on Bank Street.  likely taken over by cockroaches by now…  so sad to see.  and THIS was on Friday afternoon, 3:30 p.m., when the war on Bank Street with the insane drivers is usually in full service madness.  that road at that point in time on a Friday is so bad, they have cops standing there between cars looking in at the drivers as they roll past.  this past Friday: you’d have better luck getting run over by a tumble weed!

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un flipping believable:  Laurier between Bank and O Connor, at 3:40 p.m., Friday afternoon.  now this one for absolute sure is a complete scene of lunacy during regular blah bitty blah blah.  you can stand on those sidewalks and see the animals rushing like lemmings, the horror.  but not this past Friday.  look at that!

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as if.  actually waiting in line to get into the LCBO.  what is the world coming to?  the spooks were in there too!  i managed to get out with my Tenuta Frescobaldi, Castiglioni, 2017.  we’re waiting now for that bad boy to get to room temperature.  wasn’t sure if my imagination was playing tricks on me the last time so we’ll give it another go around just to be sure.  (beauty afternoon for cooking!)

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today’s love poem:  That Sunday in August.

your love, sex.  Use it. Build it.  She, resting her hands flat…  feeling everything.  The lovely bed, the beautiful view.  She sent love and assurance.  She whispered “I will find you”.  She opened the floodgate inside and let it wash over.  She turned her inner river on.  

The Night Market.  a sly, charming smile.  Impressive, he said.  

She felt the warmth of his praise.  His magic swirled around her.  

And you liked it didn’t you?  You’re really going to enjoy what you’ve become.  You are mine.  

No, she barely whispered.  Her breath faltered.  Her whole body shuddered.  

You are lovely as ever.  And you are so graceful.  

He extended his hand.  She followed.  Yes, she whispered…

from the Found Poetry Book 5:  Heir of Autumn.  a work in progress.

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SUN INFINITY MOON:  the Moosonee Proof.  well the good news is we’ve spotted nearly all the outrageous errors in the first run of the novel!  true:  it was me who made 3 of them.  i let 3 slip past.  but when i said hit the print button, there were things i missed, things i definitely should have seen point blank, for example:  the cover!  the grade five clown they put on my project over at the layout, switched out my “coarse language” for his “course language”…  (ultra super mega DUH!  now:  we’re going back for a reprint with a new cover design and so i sent it over to them and it came back with…  you guessed it:  “course language” on the new and revised cover…  which means i’m going to have to go over there and kick that young dumb ass’s arse up around the moon by now.)

i was okay with the paragraph indent disasters in the first run, which had nothing to do with us!  that was them!  i was willing to let that slide.  but after we got to looking at it up close with our glasses off, like looking for gnat shit in pepper, it was then we saw the howling errors!  like i said, my bad:  i made 3 of them.  but the rest…  good gravy.

also:  i sent copies of the book to twenty so called professors in the indigenous studies departments, at universities around Canada and the US, hoping to hear back.  this was back last August.  i didn’t hear from any of them!  now i will say this:  a lot of these so called indigenous professors, Ph.D.’s, who claim to be indian, to me, sure do look like a bunch of white boys.  white boys in the same way our old scam artist and Grey Owl wannabe Joe Boyden looks…  and Joe B. is the biggest scam artist of them all in recent years.

when you’re an indian, a real indian, who actually looks like an indian, AND have spent the entire work career at the front with actual indians, you can come up with some pretty weird feelings watching white boys passing themselves off as indians, finishing first in the classic game of Cowboys and Indians.  but then: who IS owning and operating these publishing houses? (cool grammar huh?!!!)

i will say this:  i sent a copy over to the book reviewer at Anishnawbek News, over there near North Bay, Ontario (Anishnawbek News is a paper that’s been around for 30 years anyway) and i didn’t hear squat from them!  nothing!  or our old buddy at CBC in Suds:  Waub.  he never returned my call!  same with Rose over at UNRESERVED, cbc crazy indian show one hour a week!

so i’m at a bit of a loss over here wondering:  Just how does a real indian get in the door to one of these big league houses?

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some real indians:  that’s me and Mr. S.C., 50% of the rock and roll band:  No Reservations.  AND!!!  Brothers in Arms.

anyway.  the tuned up version of SUN INFINITY MOON will be ready soon.  for those of you who bought a copy of the black and white cover version, the first run, i owe you a 7×9 inch acrylic on canvas board painting!  just send me an email and detail where you bought it, and i’ll send you a selection of 7×9 inch canvas boards you can choose from and i’ll send you one free of charge.  how is that for a deal?

like i said:  i didn’t see all the howling errors in the first version.  i should have taken more time when i looked at the e version the layout folks sent.

ah.  it is what we artists call:  The Artist Proof!  and if you bought one, well i owe you.

bottom line though is:  the HORROR story is there, intact.  with or without the jungly super errors throughout the layouts.  (the hard copy is more horror than the actual story!!!  ha ha!)

here is one of my favourite pages from the novel:  BE WARNED:  COARSE LANGUAGE AND ADULT SUBJECT MATTER.

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ha ha!  from:  INFINITY, of SUN INFINITY MOON.

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ah well.  here we are, at the end of week 6 in this ridiculous situation the world has gotten itself into, week 7 soon to start.  we’re lucky to have a few levers to pull: what do we want to do:  paint pictures?  write song lyrics?  write stories?  create new music on the guitars?  or maybe it’s time to crack open that red, it must be up to room temperature by now.

lastly:  every now and again i see at the bottom of my posts that the comments are turned off.  i don’t mean for that to happen!  if i could figure out how to use this blog thingy, that stuff would never happen.  because we want you to leave comments!  and we enjoy hearing from you!

many thanks, miigwetch, and best of luck staying healthy!

oh yes and i almost forgot!!!  some of you asked about the H.L. cooking scenes with those sweet “preparations and kitchen sounds”!  found the vid on youtube and so here it is!  you might want to put the headphones on for this one.

always enjoy!

The Dream at the End of the World

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Opening pages of Found Poetry Book 4: The Dream at the End of the World.  I loved that title and to boot: printed way back in 1991, the paper is quality stuff that can handle the sharpie markers, highlighters and thinly spread dollar store acrylic paint.  I keep saying “thinly spread” as no matter how good the paper quality is in these old books, if you layer on gobs of acrylic, bad things are going to happen to your book project.  I’ve seen it happen with a few participants and yes it can get messy fast.  And that’s when the tears start…

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Remember: this is meant to be a long term art making project.  As you can see I started this one way back on September 4, 019.  Here we are at December 15th and I have 3 pages to go!  The opening “found poem”, is 2 pages of love…

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Found poems…  Love this stuff!  As I said to participants:  what literary surprises are waiting for us with every page?

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The End of Art School, found poem No. 3, is an 8 page beauty that goes like this:

in a dream, rising up through the tranquil sleep of a warm May evening, left in its wake a delicious sense of peace, of afternoon sunlight, the dream terrain, i felt the thrill of recognition, was offering, up to him again.  

his life was out of control, sidetracked by untidy passions, impulsive missteps, messy obsessions…

daring was in his art, and his ambition seemed limitless, he was an accomplished poet as well as a musician, still, he was beginning to feel like a hired hand, and he was weary of focusing his energy on works that were not his own.

disturbing, nihilistic, quietly bizarre…

its perpetual distraction.  as summer approached, the power of his stories, the dream had shown him the way.

flirtatious, seductive, she staged mad crushes, they had become favourites among the creative elite, they were famous among the famous.

his only refuge was his imagination, he invented his own planet, “I was always trying to get away.”

found his freedom, possessed of a diffident charm, and sensible in summer, thrillingly remote, was vital and clamorous, the ancient native, life burst through the seams, wonderfully excessive, costume balls, expeditions and martinis, cleanliness and efficiency.

steady, hot, with a moon that is like a sun when it is full, a madhouse: the piano in their isolated house was wildly out of tune…

trance dancing-all of it was part of the pageantry, Sahara, the sky had a life of its own, baptism of solitude, silent country, sensation of existing in the midst of something that is absolute: the absolute has no price.

mystical undercurrents ran deep, a man transforming, the supple nature of reality, on the other side of the looking glass, alienness intoxicating, insupportable jealousy, I shall be away. 

pursued the exotic, self indulgent, he kept up his creative momentum, he transported himself, an untamed twenty year old, the two began to spin fantasies.

a protagonist in his novel, restless souls who wanted to explore life outside, purpose and spirit, it was a mystery, She laughed: “You KNOW I don’t want you to go.”

a close friend of both, i dimly remember my own face and not yours, how psychosomatic can you get?

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Of course there is room for drawing: “Fancy Shawl Dancer, who IS Mother Earth”,  sharpie marker, thinly spread dollar store acrylic.

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And room too, for experimenting with the draw and the subject of the draw:  black ball point pen with sharpie marker on acrylic paint.  Maybe there is an opportunity to create a new series of pictures from the sketches in these pages.

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Some days are tougher than others…  Sharpie marker on acrylic paint.

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“True Love: age 22, (I knew her name)”, Found poem, a 12 page extravaganza!

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Once into it, these sketches can be pretty telling…  (life on the road…  )

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And of course there is room for fun stuff!  The end page of a wildly sexual poem, from the Road Taken!

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Ah yes: room to explore, room to create, and maybe a new series of paintings in the development stages…

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Heavy duty and ultra supra TELLING!  Wow.  This drawing is from the last of the pages in the book, 384 pages of found poems, drawings, journals, love stories, memory brambles lane, black circles under blood shot eyes, spinning out in a parking lot, from soup to nuts, insanity before xmas in the city.

Yes the found poetry book project is a work in progress and an exciting exercise for the creative soul.  On Monday I’ll be back in the goodwill on the snoop, looking for another interesting title with high quality paper.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 18×24 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Made fresh this past week and using a new brand of acrylic paint!  The last of my Stevenson Professional Acrylic, and I mean the last, we’re down to the bottom of the barrels, I’m pretty sure we only have a half dozen paintings remaining in those paint barrels.  Very sad for me as Stevenson was my brand since all the way back in art school.

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Power Birds, acrylic on canvas, 24×36 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Originally it was a black and white but with this new brand of paint in the house, it’s time to explore and see what she can do.

Just ten days before Xmas and…  yikes: another year will be in the books.

 

Art Battle Tonight!

hey i was called up for tonight’s Art Battle here in Ottawa!  for those of you not in the know:  they give you a 16×20 inch canvas, acrylic paint, an easel and 20 minutes!  all you have to do as the artist is bring your own brushes and your own ideas!  i’ll tell you right now they have some pretty decent painters signing into this show, folks who can get it done fab style within those 20 measly minutes.  i am not one of them!  i can get it done in 20 but have never made it out of the first round.  maybe tonight is my night!

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that’s me back in April, thinking i had a great idea but nope!  (truth is: no matter how big the house i always come down with a serious case of the butterflies…   complete with shaking hands…  )

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that’s way back in 016, the Halloween version and big time NO GO to the 2nd round.

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in Ottawa on Friday night!

and that’s way back in 015, on my first visit to the AB, with NO DICE!

at any rate, it is a fun time, fun to be in with those other artists, and fun to be in the show!  we’re in a new venue this time, 250 City Centre, which is not downtown.  how it got the title of City Centre when its way out in the middle of nowhere is beyond me.

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Big Bucks = Happiness.  Acrylic on canvas board, 7×9 inches, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  maybe tonight i should stick with the basics.

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Indian Residential School, Hell on Earth.  Sketch.  Acrylic on canvas board, 7×9 inches.  Artist Collection.  or maybe i should attempt a “statement”.

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Stacey from Malibu, sharpie marker on 8.5×11 paper.  Artist collection.  one thing is for sure there is no time to call up Stace for advice on what to paint and what to wear.  i know what she would say though about what to wear:  You have one life to live, don’t put it off to tomorrow.

i’ll let you know how it goes!

 

Woodland School style by twinravens

here is my version of the Anishnaabe Woodland School of art, founded by the great Norval Morrisseau, and introduced to the art world in Toronto, way back in September 1962.  what a great artist journey/adventure Norval M. went on after that!  all the way to the National Gallery of Canada in 2006/07.  i’m a long way from having my work in the N.G.C.!  but here is my version anyway:

A Self Portrait on November 30th by Mark Seabrook

Self Portrait on November 30th, acrylic on canvas, 30×40 inches.  Private collection.

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Feeding the Wolf, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Private collection.

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Anishnabe at Full Moon, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

Bear Clan with White Raven

Bear Clan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Artist collection.

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Water Spirit, Homage to Norval M., acrylic on canvas, 24×36 inches.  Private collection.  (the paint wasn’t even dry when that one went out the door!)

Moose Nahmiwan

Moose Nahmiwan, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches. Painted on the Range in March 2015

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Indian Residential School Survivor, acrylic on canvas, 36×48 inches.  Available for purchase.

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Anishnabe Woodland Nights, acrylic on canvas board, 16×20 inches.  Private collection.

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Power Bird, acrylic on canvas, 22×28 inches, getting ready to ship out.  Private collection.

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Me, standing next to a Norval Morrisseau acrylic on canvas at the National Gallery of Canada.  A lot of us anishnaabe boys who are painters owe a salute to the great Norval M. and his high and mighty work.