Posts tagged ‘horror stories’

3x

okay we’ll try this again.  the last time we darn near let the cat “outa the bag”!!!  whoops!

before we get into the art news check this out:

Screen Shot 2020-01-25 at 7.29.32 PM

that is yours truly many moons ago:  screen shot from a vid.  the only reason i bring that one up is i want you to hear this song: 

that one:  was it really track 4?  all i know is we played it in the live show right after the initial bombardment: 4 thundering NR songs that absolutely got that audience to take notice.  this is the one the ended that bombardment and what a way to start the show.  ah but those were some show bizz daze…  fun times.  (psst:  we need to get the band back together.)

Screen Shot 2020-01-25 at 7.20.13 PM

someone in our recent travels asked if i knew a thing or two about the guitar and i said yes, that in the past, i had dabbled with it.  well another someone in the higher up heard that…  and they also knew about the band.  that “someone” is down the road another 10 year further than me, and let me say this much:  it is fun to know there are a few native folks out there who remember!  folks who are in a driver’s seat.

ah.  here is another for good measure:

we tried to open the show with that one but it was best to close the show with it.  (road show stories too!)(check out Danny Boy on those drums!)(he was a WIZARD!)

Screen Shot 2020-01-25 at 7.16.52 PM

i was standing in the “sweet spot”: where i could hear all the guitars and vocals on the stage!  ha.  with all that rock and roll can you believe at times, on stage, it’s difficult to hear things?

Screen Shot 2020-01-25 at 7.25.48 PM

of course i had to put this one on:  that’s Jen playing the congas, and that’s me watching the clock!  Buffy Ste Marie was up next and we didn’t want to keep her waiting!

VWTL2204

the new t shirt!  you know i’ve seen that shirt running around here and there:  strong, resilient, indigenous.

well.  when you’ve been around a bit, you’re tired of the flavour of the month with these words from overseas trying to tell us what we are.  first it was:  savage.  then it was: indian.  then it was:  native.  then it was:  aboriginal.  now it’s: indigenous.  and i, along with a few other old soldiers wonder what in the heck is it going to be next month?!!!

IMG_0132

so someone asked me what’s up?  i said:  i joined the resistance when i was 13 and have been fighting ever since.  i am powerful, i lived, unlike quite a few of my brothers in arms, who are KIA, or MIA.  i am authentic!  i am a real ANISHNABE.  i am not one of these fake Joseph Boyden/Grey Owl wannabeeze…   i won’t get scammed by a white salesman down on Hazelton Lanes, trying to sell me a 20 000 dollar “FAKE” Norval Morrisseau painting!  and i am not colonized:  i never bought into the religion from overseas and i sure as hell never thought a minute about the so called queen and “big ears”, that son of hers who went and got his ex wife killed and would likely F up a cup of coffee if he had to make it on his own.  nope!  that is supposed to be your future king?

well my queen is Queen:  We Will Rock You/We are…

(“My Melancholy Blues” is a close second!) 

you better listen to that one with the headphones…

wearing the shirt:  that is the GREAT JASMINE MOON, at the 2nd annual AFN Round Dance, O Town, a weekend ago.  and she is ANISHNABE.  still in training.

IMG_0126

speaking of Joe Boyden:  there sure are a lot of his books turning up in the Salvation Army bookshelves!  i know he made his millions playing indian, pulling the wool over who knows how many white eyes, and red eyes (ha!) but let’s just hope for a minute that there is still a chance for us real indian writers.  not sure what word to use these days!  savage.  indian.  native.  aboriginal.  indigenous…  flipping aliens…

QDME7295

in progress, and using the LAST of the Stevenson paint…  (boo hoo!)  24×36 inches on gallery canvas.  it looks like we might have 6 more paintings at best, in Stevenson before we have to find that new brand.  i’m hoping a professional indio artist will take me under his/her wing/wings.

in the spirit of:

forget about the lame version by Ed V.  this is the real version.  my thing is this: if you can’t do it better than them, leave it alone.  as far as i’m concerned:  Ed V. SUCKED!  i’d say leave it alone dude but we know they handed him a great big fat pay cheque for that one!

Screen Shot 2020-01-25 at 7.18.39 PM

ah yes:  No Rez, we need to get that band back together.  the principles are still around!  and we’ll say this!  those songs are still relevant today:  like:  Putting Up a Barricade!  Native Pride.  Civilized Man.  Road Is So Long.  Dreamcatcher.  Logging Road.  Hollywood Indian.  actuals.  authentica.  NR was the real deal and still is.

i used to think the term “survivor” was a bit too big, but yes, i was way wrong about that.

IMG_2464 - Version 2

i know the dad who adopted me and saved my life, he was a ww2 survivor.  truth be told i’m not so sure how he came back from that.  but he was a survivor.  my 3 older brothers are dead and my 3 younger ones are missing.  what does that make me?

IMG_2323

at any rate:  the poison runs thick and strong, and it’s in us.  we need to water it out of us.  if we can keep the water clean which seems like a chore these days with the pipe lines and train derailments and jumbo jets and etc.

(cue in the music, Frankie!)

 

Saturday Night Blizzard!

Well maybe it “aint no” blizzard like the folks in NFLD whooped through in the past 24 hours but here in O’sville, outside, now, 6 p.m., it aint pretty.  And it IS ice Flipping cold!  that is why I’m tucked away in here, in the crib, with the fake fire going, fake fireplace on the TV, 2D logs burning bright, warm as toast, snug as a bug, nestled up next to a Henschke Cyril Henschke Cab slash Sauv slash Franc slash Mer mixarama.  The folks are pitching it as extra dry but I’m telling you right now its twice the sweet as I like them.  Ah well.  It IS a snow storm out there.  And those Australian Vins on a cold winter night are something to write home about.  I’d write home if I had one…

IMG_0036

And so!  It IS a blizzard, I’m in for the evening with the vin and a book.  Thought I’d re read the “CLASSIC HORROR STORY” by kooky Sinclair Ross:  The Painted Door.  Of course when I was sporting, many moons ago, we’d make that trip, a mile anyway…

Things have changed since then.  Now, as an old man, we don’t need to wade through classic Canadian horror stories as we have enough of them stowed in our own story telling departments: if it were a library, a mighty library it would be as some of us did!  I was reminded of that when I crossed paths with an old soldier today:  same age as me!  We laughed and cackled our way through stories about the ages, old names, old places, now all dead and gone.  Yet we remain: Two Anishnabe, from the same year, many times in the same places, with the same people, yet never crossing paths until today.  Slick stuff.

We got to that story sharing place where I told him about that night at the International on Kathleen Street, N’Swakamok, summer of 1995:  I was in there with one of the killers, as back up.  He was in there looking for someone but he never told me why he was looking for this person.  We sat ourselves down at a table and ordered drinks and pretty soon this young Anishnabe dude came along and sat himself down at our table.  This dude knew the killer and they were chatting up a storm, going on about “stuff”.  Well I’d heard enough after about 20 seconds and said to the killer:  Is this the guy?

As I said that I was reaching inside my coat with my right hand and the dude FREAKED!  He put his hands up right away and said Hey Man!  I didn’t do anything!

Of course he was right.  I was just reaching into my coat pocket to get my cigarettes, to see if he wanted a Marlboro Red.  Back in those days you could smoke in the bar.  It was kooky to see though how that dude nearly shit his pants when I did that.  Ha ha.

It has been one of those winter days.  Cool too though when you cross paths with folks of the same vintage.

IEKN4407

Girl From the North Country, Found Poetry, Book 5, a work in progress.  Drawing by Mark Seabrook, Anishnabe artist.  Truth is I have NOT been drawing over the past few or several years and…  They were right.  It does go away if you don’t keep at it.

IMG_0019

Anishnabe Kwe, Found Poetry, book 5.  So yes, we’re still working at it.  The book is 400 plus pages and the story is INSANE!!!  So we’re mostly painting over the pages of text and making this one into a book of drawings.  There are a few poems in there but not as many as in the past books.  The drawing practice has been good for this old boy.

IMG_9611

Ed Hopper at the MET.  Remember how I was going on about that meltdown at the MET, back in December?  Well here we are a long way from, and here they are in no particular order, the paintings that brought on the meltdown…

IMG_9646

Have mercy.  You can read a ton of books about this one but when you’re standing where he once stood:  the same distance away I mean, there is a fine line between living out your dream and shitting your pants on the NY subway.

IMG_9650

Good Wowza.  If you are a visual artist, and you walk into a room and see this…  Well lets just say this:  I was in there looking at this and wondered if maybe it might have been better had I been KIA in the Great Hay Wagon Disaster of 78.  (If you don’t know what that is, scroll back through a few blog postings…  )

IMG_9652

Good Gawd!  Anyone out there reading this:  are you a painter?

IMG_9670

Jeepers H. Mary and M.F. Joe!  You read about it.  You see a small picture in an art history book text.  But then there it is.  Wowza x 2.

IMG_9677

Stop.  Stand.  And Stare.  Holy chocolate wagon wheels someone actually created this with their bare hands…  (Q. And what am I doing?  A.  A GREAT BIG FAT NOTHING.)

IMG_9689

OFMFGF.  We went over this in art school for days.  Detailing it, went over it, shoulder to shoulder on our hands and knees, going over every inch of the details with an extremely powerful art history instructor.

IMG_9832

Yup!  I was nearly a sobbing wreck by this point.  Just like that time I watched the first 5 minutes of the movie:  UP.

IMG_9692

Okay.  No words.  There it is.

IMG_9696

Have mercy!

IMG_9706

Absolute melting point:  if you’re an art enthusiast and dreaming…  If you see something like this, in the MET, after all these years…   (Well lets just say it will be the crows nest for me.)

IMG_9810

Here though:  something turned.  I may have rounded a corner with this one.

IMG_9815

Stopped and stared.  Imagined Mr. R. standing there too, cigarettes in hand…  ages ago.

IMG_9764

K.M. in his gear, making the presentation on Thursday night to a darn near a sold out show.  He had his book, getting his words straight, but what I was worried about is that he was going to fall off those great big high heels he was wearing!  He didn’t fall off his shoes and it was a great performance, and a great show:  glad to be there and see it first hand.  That painting of course, if you scroll back through the blog, you’ll  see it up close, from that night long ago…

And so the snow storm continues.

alone at Carter's Bay in a long ago summer time

alone at Carter’s Bay in a long ago summer time

I dream about the beaches back home: the wind and the waves, the sun, the earth, the sky.  The blue and green.  And yes:  The sienna, the gold and silver.

IMG_2108

Oh la la!  There will be time to get back to those water falls and that river where I call home.  I usually travel at night.  I’ll arrive at sunrise!

IMG_2551

When you live a bit, silly things like a snow storm are nothing.  Rooms in a house, the “Famous Cockroach Incident”, a thousand mile drive at a hundred miles an hour, the summer of 1995, the lawns between her house and mine at age 12, her red jacket…

IMG_1626

I’ve got a home waiting for me.  Yes I’m the road now but I’ll be home soon.  For now though, we have the art, the road, the snow storm, the flash Australian Vin, and the stuff not worth mentioning out the front window, the back window and the side windows:  life i the city in mid January.

Keep on keeping ON!

 

 

The Inner Me

“I never travel without my diary.  One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”  – Oscar Wilde

Cue this music up before reading further:

And so here we are at the end of another year…  Tomorrow night’s party scene is still up for grabs, we haven’t booked any seats at any shows, so the what have you is mightily up in the air.  New Year’s Eve…  and standing on the doorstep to another whole DIFF decade.  As my dad would say:  after we figured we’d lived through the war we started watching our step a bit more in detail.

Well I’m not in where the bullets are flying and the bombs are going off, but I’m out here alone, my 3 older brothers are dead, my 3 younger ones missing.  I would have liked to have spent at least an hour with them over the holiday season but none of that came to pass.  Instead I’m alone here in my crib.

322E1828-CE13-47A6-9724-67A843B739F0_1_201_a

Bright eyed and bushy tailed: but a castle aint no home when you’re always in it alone.

5C7D25DA-0640-4C6E-82E7-1ED667C13632_1_201_a

I always wonder where they are: in heaven or in hell.  I’m not a christian like them so I don’t know nothing much about it.  All I know is I joined the resistance when I was age 13 and I’d like to entertain them here at my place, all these years later.

14680AC1-D59D-404C-816C-B5AF65709F2C_1_201_a

They always said I’d likely go far, after we were reintroduced, all of us, in our very early 20’s or late teens, I was only 18 at the time and hadn’t seen any of them since 1969, or was it 1971?  All I know is when I saw them again, I knew I didn’t want to be like them.  I’d been away far too long and after sitting with them, I knew I’d likely never be going back.  Little did I know, at that time, they were all trauma survivors with this thing they call in mod times:  PTSD.  They didn’t get the special jungle training that I got and they didn’t have a Major like I had.

E44E8BEC-453E-4567-B39A-7F0DA94D7E3F_1_201_a

I’ve sat here alone for quite some time, wondering about that shack in the woods, back on the blacker side of the rez, back in the mid to late 60’s.  I know we had a wood stove in there because I remember hauling wood back to the house and I have this vague memory of my mom standing there with an arm load of poplar, cut yes, but not split.  When was my dad planning on doing that?

943FA48B-C208-49AF-A726-59A6D4C0F142_1_201_a

In the past decade I’ve been there myself, on my own paradise on the range: hauling wood, poplar too, but doing it the old fashioned way, bringing it out one load at time, using a wheelbarrow, and getting a pretty decent work out along the way.  Of course the road out of the back woods was a 2% decline back to the house, so it was easy rolling out those 12 cords.

3D9B7B53-E031-4D3E-AAE6-4DA672A09FA4_1_201_a

In mod times, like here and now, I wonder, how warm those rooms could have been at night, back in 68: who was up tending the fire?  If memory serves, the upstairs had 2 little bedrooms with old mattresses that were falling apart and coming undone and who knows what kind of hell went on up there…  I was going to ask my older brother about it.  I came up with the idea in a July, a few days later he fell over dead and took the stories with him. He’s been dead now, has it been 5 years?

4EFC7318-AE19-4CB2-BA2E-6974C96D4DDD_1_201_a

When I was in university ages ago, an old Indian man sat us down and he said you boys have nothing to worry about right now, but if you have the good fortune of getting as old as me, down the road in those days you’ll be visited by many an old memory, things you’d left alone up until now, as an old man.  I silently and invisibly scoffed at the idea, I was only 22 at the time.  Pretty soon an Anishnabe Kwe walked in and she gave us the Sweetgrass teaching.  She was working on a braid and explaining things to us and she looked at me and said:  if you reach the age you’ll find yourself going through some strange times and maybe seeing some strange things, either here or over there.  Once again I, to myself, scoffed at the idea and I remember it well:  It won’t happen to me.  That is what I said, back when I was 22, when I was as terrible as an army poised for battle.

DC8B6CA6-7C36-4725-8517-9DEFB738B321_1_201_a

But here we are, like they said, at that time, the empty nest looming like never before.  And all of the brothers now long gone.  I have no idea where the survivors are, how they’re doing, what is going on south of us.  South of me.  There is no “us” anymore.

6204EE07-96CC-4C21-9BAD-0AEB6494D27B_1_201_a

Me too, chief.  We’re starting to get there!  I see young whippersnappers all the time and I know I am no longer them!  No middle age either!  Nope.  We’re off to another place, if all goes well, with a wee spot of wisdom or a splash of education, maybe we can get through this.  My dad has been gone a long time but I sure do hear his voice these days, telling me what to watch out for, to watch my step, and above all, what to be thankful for.

D34A325D-7AA4-4FB3-A1E4-5C6C9014E7EF_1_201_a

I’m not much of a Christmas person, like I said, I’m not a christian, and I don’t buy into how they sell it: that long ago story from overseas.  It makes for a great cash grab yes, in these mod times, but I’d rather give them the cash than to some corporate who ever and so that is what we do.  I’ve never been one for standing in a line over there at the mall.

A9D4802E-83A5-45F9-98A9-DBF60FE22472_1_201_a

Xmas eve has come and gone.  Xmas day is here and been.  Boxing Day I was in the car, alone, and coming back to here.  And through those days I never heard from any of them.  The survivors I mean.

We haven’t booked any seats at any shows for tomorrow night but I hear it and see it all around:  2020:  The Roaring Twenties!  I guess they are.  And they surely were!  I don’t plan on wandering around these empty rooms on such a night, so if you don’t hear from me between now and then:  Best wishes and I hope you have a happy new year, and I hope this time, 12 months from now, we’ll be sharing a few more stories!

 

The Dream at the End of the World

IMG_9483

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…

IMG_9484

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…

IMG_9485

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

IMG_9486

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?

IMG_9487

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

IMG_9488

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.

IMG_9490

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

IMG_9492

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

IMG_9494

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

IMG_9496

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

IMG_9498

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

IMG_9500

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.

XCDJ8459

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.

HOQC2267

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.

 

Sun Infinity Moon Book Review

LVSP6166

“I finished the book yesterday, I couldn’t put it down! The sex scenes were hot, humorous and I loved Mark’s rawness, his truth, the details, the characters, journeys, their thoughts: so real!

I could hear his voice and the way he talks, and jokes, telling the story!

The history and raw truth are so touching, I wanted to hear more. I felt a deeper compassion hearing his experiences. The “nish” accent was hilarious but true to our men. I laughed a lot and ohh that ending made me cry!

His detail is impeccable. I wanted more about their journeys. So many more avenues: more books, a play, a movie!

His readers will want more.

So glad I went to the book launch and got my copy. I can think of so many that would enjoy this book and could relate: namely native males I know, with similar tough journeys.”

M.D., Manitoulin Island F/N.

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 8.10.48 PM

Back cover of the artist proof:  filled with typos and layout errors!  Ah well.  The reprint will be here soon and hopefully bug free…

I have a couple of more book reviews coming in soon!  But I’ll tell you this:  writing a story like this and having folks give it the once over, the response is SUPER telling!  i.e.:  one gal was all friendly and happy and poops and giggles before, after…  she wouldn’t even look at me!  I mean she would cross over to the other side of the street when she saw me coming along!  WOW!

I get that this IS a tough sell.  We’re a long way from the Disneyland and Hollywood Indian stereotypes.  But I’m not a Joseph Boyden or an Archie Grey Owl!  Ha ha.

FFXN2815

twinravens on November 5th, acrylic on canvas board, 8×10 inches.  One of the 25 or so pieces we have ready for this weekend’s pop up art show in Perth, Ontario!  Details are on the Facebook page.

SUN INFINITY MOON

LVSP6166

There it is!  With flash book marks to go with.  Wow!  Those folks at OJ Graphix in Espanola did it up nicely, quickly, and exactly.

Book launch, island style, will be this Saturday, July 20th, 7 p.m., at Huron Island Time, on the beach at Providence Bay.  Flash art show as well, and hopefully, live music by one of the great island musicians who we know, going back 45 years.

Here are a few sample pages:

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 7.52.49 PM

Opening 2 pages, Sun Infinity Moon, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Copyright 2019.

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 7.53.11 PM

Opening 2 pages to SUN, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Copyright 2019.

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 7.53.28 PM

Opening 2 pages to chapter 2, SUN, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Copyright 2019.

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 7.53.44 PM

Opening 2 pages to chapter 3, SUN, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Copyright 2019.

It is a short read:  just 250 pages:  perfect for the cottage on a summer afternoon.  Mind you it IS a horror story…

Screen Shot 2019-07-16 at 8.10.48 PM

Back cover, SUN INFINITY MOON, by anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.  Copyright 2019.

It will be available on ebay soon!  Amazon to follow.  Book launch on the island this coming weekend and city book launch here in Ottawa coming soon.  So stay tuned!

Miigwetch!