the human journey

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I’ve been happily lost in my travels through the pages of the Atlas of the Human Journey. I’m always fascinated to learn more about the amazing migration of humans from Africa to all the far corners of the earth. Clicking on “Journey Highlights” on the lower right hand corner brings up a long list of different cultures, languages, anthropology and archaeological sites with some history or other interesting bits of information. The mention of some yet unproven theories on how some peoples arrived where they did reveals how much is still unknown. The Saami culture and other more obscure ones are even on the list, something you don’t often see in these kind of broad studies.

As most readers know, a great deal of new information has been recently discovered through the modern science of genetics. So, this site happens to be a part of the Genographic Project. Read the fascinating information here about DNA and genetic markers. I’m rather tempted to order the kit and send in some of my DNA and find out where the Finns came from! I’m also intrigued by some claims (elsewhere) that the Finnish language and genes may be as authentic, ancient and unique as that of the Basques.

The image above is of a Gravettian period (22,000 to 28,000 years ago) cave painting in the Czech Republic, photo by Kenneth Garrett, captured from this site.

more underfoot

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underfoot

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August

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The days are still very warm but there’s a very noticeable change to the light. With shorter days, the sun’s angle is getting lower, shadows longer, evenings cooler and the nights heavy with dew. In the park, yellow leaves on the ground, fallen early due to drought, give a distinctly fall-like air. I remember my mother often saying to me that this time of the summer is Mätäkuu, when food quickly begins to rot, a term common to pre-refrigeration days. In my kitchen, the fruit flies are quick to appear with any slightest bit of ripe fruit in the bowl and in my compost pail under the sink.

August is the month of my late father’s birthday (he’d now be 86 if alive), and just now it dawned on me that his name, Kusti, is derived from Augustus, after whom this month was named. I’d not made the connection before between his name and his birth month. (This month is called “elokuu” in Finnish.) According to Nordic Names, Kusti comes from the Swedish name Gustav, which was also the name of a few Swedish kings including the present one. Then at Behind the Name I find that Kusti is the pet form of Kustaa or Aukusti, the Finnish form of Augustus.

This makes me smile. You too, Dad?

And I see that while I’ve been doing my own ruminating here, there’s been a wonderful conversation on August and summer holidays over at Cassandra Pages, and there are some great poems on August at Via Negativa. Enjoy these last days of summer!

PS. Dave, in the comments below, reminded me that there’s another “August” post written by Leslee at 3rd House Journal. I’d enjoyed it earlier and maybe that inspired my own nostalgia.

meeting bloggers

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For the first time in two and a half years of blogging, I personally met another blogger face to face yesterday. Susan and I haven’t known each other for very long, but when I learned she and her partner were coming to Vancouver on a holiday, we arranged to meet. And what fun it was! We talked non-stop the whole evening, over dinner at a bistro and later over dessert back at our house.

I’ve often thought a real meeting with another blogger would compare to the dedicated writers of pen pal letters in the “old days” who met years later. We chatted about that – Susan’s partner and my husband compared it to CB and ham radio operators who sent messages out on the airwaves, not knowing who might pick them up. We’ve all heard stories of how some of them finally met after 30 years of talking to each other! Indeed, our messages in our blogs go “out there” too, to be read by any chance and intentional readers. Today’s digital equivalent to ham radio must be podcasting. Of course savvy news media have joined up and my husband is able to enjoy his favourite news documentaries from around the world while cycling to and from work. All this makes the world pretty small these days, but you can’t beat meeting face-to-face.

McLaren again

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(Still: Norman McLaren’s La Merle via NFB)

Back in May, I wrote about Canada’s great animator Norman McLaren who had a long film-making career with the National Film Board of Canada.

NFB is celebrating 65 years of Animation and I discovered that we can view four of McLaren’s films on the Focus on Animation pages, small scale or full screen size.

Blinkity Blank and Hen Hop are delightful and lively – don’t forget these were done by hand in 1955 and 1942 respectively, long before the digital era. Le Merle is a simple and delightful animation based on an old French-Canadian nonsense song, Mon Merle. I plan to show these to my grand-daughter sometime soon.

The Oscar-winning fourth film Neighbours/Voisins (1952) is disturbing and a powerful parable on how easily humans can go into battle! Still very timely viewing but not for young children. (Maybe some world leaders we know should watch it!)

You may learn more about McLaren’s work at this overview.

I look forward to browsing though the other film-makers’ works as well, as time permits, but to me McLaren was THE master and his films were a part of many happy hours in my childhood.

Helvetica, a film

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Helvetica is a feature-length independent film about typography, graphic design and global visual culture. It looks at the proliferation of one typeface (which will celebrate its 50th birthday in 2007) as part of a larger conversation about the way type affects our lives. The film is an exploration of urban spaces in major cities and the type that inhabits them, and a fluid discussion with renowned designers about the choices and aesthetics behind their use of type.

Helvetica encompasses the worlds of design, advertising, psychology, and communication, and invites us to take a second look at the thousands of words we see every day. The film was shot in high-definition on location in the United States, England, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, France and Belgium. It is currently in post-production and is slated to begin screening at film festivals worldwide starting in early 2007.

It sounds quite interesting, or is it just for nerds? I think one of my artist friends, who is very knowledgeable about type, may find it quite fascinating. Set in the context of global visual culture, the film should appeal to artists and graphic designers – I admit to being intrigued.

Check out the interesting links at the Helvetica website. Thanks to Luksus, (a Finnish blog mostly written in English about art and design in Finland and around the world) and the Canadian mirabilis. I hope we get to see this film in Canada.

(Image above is my spontaneous and unprofessional little play with Helvetica in Photoshop. Graphic designers need not be too critical, please.)

The Crowd II

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Veils Suite: The Crowd II
monotype (oil-based inks)
76 x 57 cm.
About these monotypes

that tree

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Here on the south west corner of British Columbia, we are blessed with mild wet winters which in turn means we are blessed with enormous trees. The air is washed clean by the rains and filtered by the trees themselves. I’m amazed that the city’s pollution actually makes the trees grow bigger.

We’ve had a long love-hate relationship with this enormous tree in the front of our yard. We love its cooling shade on hot summer mornings, the privacy from neighbours across the street, and its prickly and tough character. We don’t know if it’s a cedar or a cypress, never having been able to clearly identify it. When it’s a young tree it has attractive thick branches of grey-green prickly needles. When it gets older like this one, the inner needles dry up at summer’s end into masses of rust coloured patches ready to break up on windy days for months after. Constant messes in the yard, deck, flowerbeds and eavestroughs keep us busier than we like sometimes. Immense roots are surfacing in the lawn and cracking the restraining wall by the driveway – reasons for the hate part of our relationship.

But we do love the summer morning sun filtering through the branches, thinned out to give us some view. It’s haven and battleground for lively squirrels, crows and bluejays. That tree and we continue to live with each other like some grouchy elders in an uneasy kind of peace.

(This is my submission for the Third Festival of the Trees. Go check it out and consider joining in.)

postcard from Pier 21

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Today I received the above intriguing postcard from a cousin (he lives in Victoria). Here’s part of what he wrote:

Finally found my way back to our Canadian beginnings. This is a great museum. There are artifacts from the Castlebranco, which is the ship we all arrived on in 1951.

He is referring to Pier 21 in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The last standing immigration shed in Canada reopened as a national historic site in 1999. From 1928 to 1971, Pier 21 served as the principal arrival point for immigrants seeking new freedoms and opportunities in Canada. (from the postcard).

A flood of memories, not all clear and complete, has me recalling our huge journey. I was 5, my little brother only a year old, my cousin 3. I remember bits of the stay in a hotel in Copenhagen before boarding the ship. The stormy November seas. I don’t recall Pier 21. The long train trip to Winnipeg is a shadowy memory. So many other memories are actually the stories of our elders.

Looking at the Pier 21 site leaves me overwhelmed thinking about the often frightening experiences of the thousands and thousands of immigrants who made their way to the New World. I admire their courage, my parents, aunts and uncles included, in facing an unknown world without even the language. I admire my mother-in-law for making the journey with three young children, to join her husband who went ahead a year earlier. I often wonder if I’d have that kind of courage in the kind of travel conditions of that era. It also takes courage to say goodbye – I think of my maternal grandmother saying goodbye to almost half her family and never again seeing most of them. A profound, even life-shattering experience for everyone. Yet just another blip in the history of humankind.