“It’s not saleable!! It doesn’t get made in a minute” – The art of Edmund Chatigny

Posted on September 16, 2016 by shadflyguy

We unfolded ourselves slowly out of the truck after the grueling ten-hour drive from our home in Wyecombe Ontario to Alan Chauvette’s picking barn near Victoriaville, Quebec. We were met by a particularly animated Alan. He was excited, even for Alan who tends to run a little hot. “What perfect timing. I’ve got something exciting to show you. Follow me to my house and we’ll come back here after”. Ten minutes later we are entering Alan’s back yard and everywhere you look there are chip carved, splatter painted, flowers, birds, and other wildlife generally with a large figure at the center and a multitude of smaller components coming off in every direction. Wild. The total affect was that of a fantasy garden. We were mesmerized.

“They were all made by this crazy old guy in St. Isidore de Beauce who covered his yard completely. He’s gone into the retirement home and the family is selling the house, so I got them all.” We were still looking around trying to take it all in. “As you can see there are hundreds of pieces and I am selling them all as one lot. None of this picking the best, and leaving the rest.” I was almost afraid to ask the price, but had to. Alan gave me a serious look and a number in the high four figures. It was pretty much what I expected due to the quantity, but the first thing that sprang to mind was “We think it’s wonderful, but I wonder if anybody else will. This is pretty eccentric stuff.” We looked at each other for a moment, then I said to Alan. “We’ll discuss it on the way back to the barn and give you an answer there.” That was a pretty intense ten minutes that followed. We both loved the work, and “got” that his complex assemblages which could be reconfigured in different ways and still ‘work” was an exciting concept. Still, it was a lot of money to put down on an unknown horse. We talked it out and as we pulled in we concluded “What the hell. Let’s trust our instincts and do what we are here to do, so it was all big smiles and laughter, as we concluded the deal. There were a couple of pickers standing nearby that we saw regularly, and they laughed at us. “They’ll be burying you with that stuff”. We didn’t care. We owned the entire contents of Mr. Chatigny’s yard, and although we had never heard of him, we knew that it spoke to us as so few things do in this life. We were half way home, somewhere around Brockville before we started to question ourselves. We needn’t have. Within a month we had sold enough to pay back our investment, and there was still a good half left.

Edmond Chatigny was born in 1895 in St. Isidore de Beauce, Quebec. He was creative from an early age. “When I was young I used to take a knife and whittle. My mother used to say “I think you could end up making something”. He became a farmer. Married and had thirteen children. Then the day came when he retired. “When I was on the farm I used to work hard, then when I retired I had nothing to do and I became bored. That’s what decided me to start making little things – wooden flowers, birds, then all kinds of things. I do it with a little saw and a pocket knife. Sell them? They are not sellable. They are not made in a minute. It’s all green, white and red with a little brown. This year I think I am going to put a lot of green and white. In the summer when I cut the grass, I clear them all off, then I put them all back. It takes two days.”

Although I never met M. Chatrigny, I am sure that it would bemuse him to hear me say that I think he was a uniquely innovative, and an important artist in his own right; and since I first laid eyes on his work, until present day, he remains one of my favourites.

Buying my “wreck” from Kojak

Posted on August 12, 2016 by shadflyguy

A loaded truck ready to go.

Kojak’s barn was located on the outskirts of Victoriaville. You may be acquainted with Kojak from my previous blog “discovering the picker’s barns around Victoriaville”. Jean (Kojak) Deshaies was thus nicknamed because he was bald and had a rough voice. He also had a disarmingly direct way of expressing himself which reminded me of the t.v. detective. Across the road from Kojak was an Esso station with a good little roadside restaurant. All the pickers used to gather there about 7 am to have breakfast and exchange tips and gossip. It was a good place to be to find out what had come in, and what was going on.

One particular summer morning Jeanine and I arrived to find an unusually high level of

excitement amongst the natives. It was 7 am and the boys were drinking brandy, giving high fives, and generally celebrating. What’s up? Kojak who seemed to be the center of attention answered, “have a brandy on me. We’re celebrating the delivery of my new truck. There she is out front. Isn’t she a beauty.” Sure enough a massive, brand new, chrome covered, custom painted one ton, four door Chevy sat glistening in the sun. “It’s a little early for us for Brandy, but congratulations Jean, that’s a real beauty.” We took our place at our usual table and ordered breakfast.

This was at a time when I was becoming known as a “regular”, and the boys liked me in spite of my beat up old pickup with the simple bolted together oak board rack. Actually, I could tell that they laughed a bit behind my back as theirs was an “express my macho through my big truck culture.” That and the big roll of cash which they would pull out of their pants is what made them impressive to their clients and each other. They could not imagine why someone would come from so far which such a small potential for hauling things back. The first time I tried to tie down a load, they stopped me and taught me how to do it properly. Making a loop at one end of the rope and then pulling the other end through and pulling hard to cinch with a reef knot and the load was in place. I was getting pretty good at piling the stuff up a little past the height of the cab and onto the lowered tailgate to maximize my load.

So we were enjoying the laughter and light heartedness of the moment, along with some bacon and eggs, when Kojak slid onto the bench next to us. “Hey Phil, you should buy mon wreck.” Pause. “Buy your wreck” ??? It was first thing in the morning and I was struggling to find meaning in Jean’s “Franglaise”. Perhaps the shot of brandy would have helped. “Yea, mon wreck. Mon wreck from my old truck. It didn’t fit the new truck because my last truck had the small back space like yours so I had a new one made. But it would work great for you, and then you would have a real rig for hauling a decent load.” The fog lifted. “Well what are you asking for it?” At this Jean looked me directly in the face and held up five fingers. Let’s see; another puzzler. I knew that it could have originally cost $5,000 because it was beautifully made with a deck over the cab which had a metal mesh walking surface that came right out to the front bumper, and handy sailboat type rope tie downs all along the sides. But it seemed too high, so I ventured, “how much Jean?” “Five hundred.” “Give me five hundred and we can go to the welder’s place right after breakfast and he will put it on for you. That’s included in the price”. I looked at Jeanine. She gave me a wink, and so I said “Sure. Sounds good”. Thanks Jean. We’ll go for it.” Jean’s big smile displayed his satisfaction with this. His old rack was sold and he knew I could buy a lot more from him with this new equipment. It was a good investment on his part.

We finished our breakfasts and followed Jean about five clicks out of town to the home and shop of his welder buddy. Jean had called ahead so by the time we arrived he had it suspended up above the bay ready for us to drive in. Twenty minutes later our old oak rack was on the burn pile, and our new front to back rack was bolted into place along the sides and on to the front bumper. The old truck dropped about two inches under the new weight, but it drove fine, and we were off on the hunt with oodles of more space for purchases. The rack survived two new trucks and served me well for the rest of my time hauling big loads out of Quebec. I was happy that we had been there for breakfast the day Kojak’s new truck had arrived.

My new metal rack bought from Kojak.

The “spontaneous” vision of Quebec carver Andre Laporte

Posted on June 24, 2016 by shadflyguy

Andre’s Montreal Canadien goalie

About 30 years ago we were rooting around in Alain Chauvette’s pickers barn near Victoriaville Quebec when we happened upon a wonderful carving of a Montreal Canadien goalie. A serious dude with a square head and a look of determination which would intimidate even the most veteran opponent. We loved it and bought it for our own collection. I’m looking at him right now and I’m still impressed with the expressiveness of his rough cut features, and the immediacy of the carving. Problem was, he wasn’t signed. We asked Alain if he knew the carver, and he did not so we had to be content to have found this one great piece by an unknown carver with the possibility of never knowing the maker, or seeing other work by him. Then about six months later we found a carving that was obviously made by the same hands of a group of four cows, carved all in one piece in the round. The same roughness and directness as the goalie. This time it had the signature A Laporte on the bottom. The picker still did not know the carver, but at least we had a name to go on.

a group of cows by Andre Laporte

So fast forward about fifteen years later. We have found and bought another half dozen pieces by Mr. Laporte, all with the same strength and spontaneity of our goalie. Still no one knew, or admitted to knowing anything about the artist. Remember that any picker is extremely reluctant to put you in touch with a carver because then you buy from the artist and not them, so it is counterproductive. Still, we were happy just to find the pieces and realize that the artist was most likely still active.

Andre sits on his front bench with his first carving

Then came that lucky day when by going through the phone book in La Prairie, and we found and met the carver Leo Fournier. We were enjoying our conversation with Leo when his wife came into the room and said “Leo, Andre Laporte just phoned and I told him I would have you phone him back after you are finished here.” Eureka! “Would your friend Andre Laporte be a carver by any chance?” Why yes he is, a carver and an antique picker. He lives a few miles from here in the town of Verdun.” “Would you mind giving us his phone number”. “Not at all. I’m sure he would be happy to meet you”. So before we left Leo called Andre back, gave him the scoop and put us on the phone. It was late in the day, so we made arrangements to arrive at his place at 9 the next morning. After getting directions Andre said “No one has ever wanted to meet me before. I don’t have a lot of work to show you so I hope you are not disappointed. “. “Not to worry Andre, we love your work and will be delighted just to meet you , and if you have anything to show us, that’s good too.

Next morning after a hearty breakfast we arrived at Andre’s little house by the railway tracks precisely at 9, and there was Andre waiting on a bench by his front door. You could see he was both excited and a little anxious. After exchanging greetings, we went inside and met his wife Lucie. The place was small but filled with nice things including several of Andre’s carvings which were brought out and put on the dining room table.

A man enjoys an apple while his faithful dog looks on

Leo had briefed him on who we were and he was excited to think that we would be interested in him. “So you actually like my work?”. Why yes, we like it a lot. You have a unique style and energy which we find very attractive.” “The other pickers who come by tell me my works too rough and nobody will want it, but that’s the only way I can work. “You see this horse there.” We focused our attention on a very strong and expressive work horse. “That was my first carving. They took down some hydro poles about seven years ago and left them across the street. I cut up one of them into various sized “stumps”, and brought them home to burn, but then I started to look at them and after a while I saw this horse inside one of the stumps. I thought about it for a long time, and then one day in 1984 I just started chipping away at it, and after about ten hours this horse had emerged. That was it. I was hooked. That’s the way I’ve worked ever since. I see the form in the log, and then I carve, until I get it all out”. I don’t glue pieces together or sand them more than I have to. I like them rough and close to the way I see them in my head.” I can only work when I see the piece in the wood first, and then I can’t stop working until it is finished. At this point Lucie jumps in. “that’s right. Once Andre starts to carve I know I’ve lost him until he is finished. I drew the line when one night he put an old quilt on our bed and started to carve right there.”

Andre’s bust of Quebec strongman Louis Cyr

Andre represents what it is to be a natural, instinctive carver. With no training or even having much experience of other work, his work is truly inspired and highly individual. His work deals with what is the pure essentials of his subject. There is always a sense of vitality and movement.

We bought several pieces that day including his first carving of the horse which remains in our collection. We continued to go by Andre’s place a couple of times a year for the many years that we continued to travel to Quebec, buying most of his output each time. Even after we stopped going we would talk on the phone occasionally and he would describe what he had been working on. Often we would send him a cheque and he would mail us pieces sight unseen. Andre and Lucie have a hard life. He was born in Verdun on May 20^th, 1948 and has lived there all his life. He has barely eked out a living being an antique picker of the door knocker variety. For a while things went well for him when collector Pierre Laplante was buying almost everything he picked, but then they had a falling out and that stopped. Andre and Lucie have three daughters and one grandchild.

an old man and his sheep by Andre Laporte

A few years ago I called to see how he and Lucie were doing and he informed me that sadly one of their daughters had been in a terrible car accident was grievously injured, and that now he had to take her every day to the hospital for treatment. There was never enough money in what Andre does to make a happy and secure life, and I’m sure that without the love and support of Lucie and his family he would not be able to survive. The last time I called was in 2007 when our mutual friend Leo Fournier died. We had a great chat about Leo. How he was his own man, and Andre laughed and summarized it like this “I have always admired Leo. He lived exactly as he wanted to, and never cared what anybody thought. He loved to drink and he died drunk. It couldn’t have been better for him”. I don’t know how things have gone for Leo since. I should phone him. That last time we spoke he said he hadn’t made any new work in a couple of years and he was still mainly preoccupied with helping his daughter to get back to a happy and productive life. He and Lucie are the salt of the earth. I really hope that things are getting easier for them. He has real talent that in a better world would be enough to provide him and his family with a happy and secure life. Unfortunately, it rarely works out like that for artists in the world we live in today.

Andre surrounded by his creations

Meeting Aime Demeules , folk artist from St. Paul-de-la-Croix, Quebec

Posted on April 29, 2016 by shadflyguy

Speckled horse by Aime Desmeules

In an earlier post I recall our meeting Felicien Levesque in the early nineties while touring the Bas -St. -Laurent region of Quebec. Well, the very next day we rose early and made the half hour drive From Cacouna to St Paul de-la-Croix, knowing it was the hometown of the well-know carver Aime Desmeules. We had been buying his animals for years from Victoriaville picker Marcel Gosselin, and we had always wanted to meet him. It was not hard to get directions to his house in this small town of 367 people, and we were soon pulling in to the driveway of a neatly kept, small ranch style home.

moose by Aime Desmeules

Jeanine and I rang the bell, and were soon greeted by a puzzled looking older lady we took to be his wife. We explained that we had come from Ontario and being big fans of Mr Desmeule’s work, we had made the trek to their home with the hopes of meeting him. “Oh no, that will not be possible. He doesn’t like to meet new people, and he has no work for sale in any case. No, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”Just as she was about to slam the door in our faces, Jeanine added sweetly, “Well we don’t mind if there is no work for sale, but please we have come a long way and we would be very grateful just to have the opportunity to make his acquaintance.” She looked us up and down. Long pause. “Very well, he’s not here right now as he is fetching wood, but I suppose if you come back in an hour he may be willing to talk to you.” Whew, nice work Jeanine. “Great, thanks, we’ll be back.” So we went into town and had a delicious big breakfast, and lingered over our coffee to fill in the time.

Aime and his wife Marie-Jeanne at their home in 1993

One hour later we were greeted at the door by Aime. Surprisingly, he was as friendly as can be, and invited us in to his work shop which was fairly full of finished carvings. “Pardon us for saying, but your wife gave us the impression that you had no work for sale, so I suppose these pieces are commissioned.” He Laughed. “No these pieces are for sale, it’s just that when you arrived unexpectedly with your accents, she was worried that you may be from the tax department.” I was starting to think that this would be the standard greeting we could expect arriving unannounced at Quebec carver’s homes, and upon reflection, I understand where they are coming from.

The next hour was pleasantly filled by Aime telling us the story of how he was 64 years old before he took up carving and at that time he was taught by his father to create the various animals in his father’s repertoire to be precisely like his father’s work. It was only after his father’s death in 1986 at 95 years of age that Aime developed a few new animals of his own, along with some pieces depicting people such as the blacksmith shown here.

“Blacksmith” by Aime Desmeules

Mrs. Demeules joined us after awhile and expressed that she was sorry for the rude greeting, but that she could see now that we were truly fans and not inspectors, and she was happy that we came. We bought a lot of his work, about twenty pieces or so, and we spent a pleasant morning getting to know each other, before loading up and heading out of town.

What I find interesting about Aime, is how he was content, to the point of taking pride in creating exact copies of his father’s work. He even signed the pieces with a stylized “A” “D” with the “A” looking very much like a “G” as his father had signed. It is quite difficult to distinguish the father’s work from the son’s, and you are pretty much dependent on patina and provenance. My understanding is that George quit working in the early 70’s, but then Aime only lived on until 1997.

Aime’s signature on cat

f you consider other carving families, such as Damase Richard and his son Wilfred; although there is a similarity to their work, when you study them closely you can see quite a few differences which make them easy to distinguish. When considering father and son carvers, Aime and George’s bond seems unique.

“brown Cow” by Aime Desmeules

Finding Fournier – how we met the acclaimed Quebec folk artist, Leo Fournier

Posted on April 22, 2016 by shadflyguy

Leo and Jeanette Fournier at home

Leo Fournier has always been one of our all time, favorite folk artist for his whimsy, elegance and balance. Leo’s sculptures cover a wide range of subjects from the religious to the erotic, as well as animals and everyday life scenes. The work is composed mostly of figures and animals in various forms of shared or confrontational activities. .

pig, by Leo Fournier

He had a keen eye for detail, a great sense of fun and a love of life. You can recognize a Fournier from across the room, and we would purchase the work when we came across it, in picker’s barns, shows, or auction. It was always our desire to find and meet Leo, but of course the pickers were not anxious to have us contact him directly so would not provide information, and his address was not listed in the reference books. All we had to go on was that he lived in the town of La Prarie (pop 23,000), on the south side of the St. Lawrence River, across from Montreal.

last supper, by Leo Fournier

Sometimes our trips to Quebec were straight there and back affairs, but on other occasions we would take a few days to meander and explore, and it was on one such occasion in the early nineties that we found ourselves in La Prarie late in the afternoon with some time to kill before we hit one of our favored road side motels. I pulled up to a phone booth, and said to Jeanine “let’s see if we can find Leo Fournier in the book. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Our hearts sank a little when we realized there were over thirty Fourniers listed in town and only one L. Fournier. Of course we tried this number first and it was not Leo, and furthermore they did not know of him, but we were not so easily discouraged and just started with the first listing and kept dialing. Jeanine was getting a little tired after about a dozen dead ends, with not everyone being delighted to participate in our little search, but she persevered, and low and behold after about another six calls she spoke to someone who was a relative, and she was happy to provide his number. “Well that was sort of easy.” I quipped. “O.K. well not that easy, and yes it was you doing all the calling”. In any case we dialed him up directly. and spoke to his wife Jeanette who said he was out momentarily but would be home soon, and he would be happy to meet us. She gave us good directions to their house which we soon found on a quiet little street right across from a Depanneur , or variety store.

Old man fantasy by Leo Fournier

Leo met us at the door and warmly invited us in to the sunporch, where he liked to entertain visitors. Leo was a very charismatic storyteller, and he launched right into some great stories while sit ting in his rocking chair sipping on a big can of Molson Export. “ I like my beer but I only buy them one at a time. That’s why I’m happy there is a depanneur right across the street” he laughed.” I noticed there were four empty cans next to his chair, but then again it was getting on in the day. Jeanette arrived directly with some coffee for us and we spent a very pleasant hour or so listening to his stories. He was a retired auto body man of good reputation, and was involved in the scrap business. He told us about and showed us his first carving which was a crucifix done in 1967 when he was 43 yrs. old. Since that time until his death in 2007 he continued to be a prolific carver, selling to friends and the occasional picker, Nettie Sharpe among others who would come by to see what he had been up to.. He was aware that his work was included in books and exhibits, but he never felt he was really appreciated until sometime in the nineties when the Quebec government commissioned him to produce a series of about a dozen sculptures on food production.(See the butcher with hog’s head below) With this big pay cheque he chose to go to Leningrad on his own where he spent two weeks at the Hermitage studying the art there, rather than fix the roof on the house which was what the rest of the family was pushing for. Leo was that kind of guy. He lived his life the way he wanted to and never thought twice about convention. We bought the six or seven pieces he had available that day and his house became a favorite stop on subsequent trips. We always took the time to stop and listen to his stories. According to his pal Andre Laport who phoned to tell us of his death in 2007 “he lived his life just the way he wanted to right to the end, with no lingering illness, and a beer in his hand”. Like so many others who knew him, we really miss him , and his infectious spirit. One of the greats.

one of the works commissioned by the Quebec government

Finding Lajeunesse

Posted on March 4, 2016 by shadflyguy

“Chien Mechant”

You know how sometimes when you meet a person you feel a real connection to their inner spirit, and recognize in them something which represents basic goodness and beauty? Something rare and special. Well that’s the way I feel about having met Henri Lajeunesse, and I am grateful for having had the experience.

Over the ten plus years of regular buying trips to Quebec we would very occasionally run across a signed work of Mr. Lajeunesse, and we began to covet them and seek them out because we really connected with his expressiveness and vision. Although we asked everyone we knew, we could never find out much about him. Not in books or from other collectors. Then one day we bought the piece above, “Chien Mechant” or “mean dog” as it was titled in pencil along the base. I say “was” because unfortunately one day an overzealous housekeeper scrubbed the words off while cleaning it. There’s a cautionary tale for you.

showing the bottom of “Chien Mechant”

So it happened that one day shortly after buying the piece, in a rare mood of domesticity, and in preparation of Jeanine’s imminent return home from visiting her mother in France, I was cleaning, and I happened to turn the piece over. There it was. Not only his signature but his address and phone number. Well Hallelujah. As it happened we were just about to go on a Quebec buying trip so we figured what the heck , lets give him a call. Jeanine dialed he number, not expecting much; but suddenly Henri Lajeunesse was on the line. After establishing that he was the Henri Lajeunesse we sought, Jeanine told him of our love of his work and our imminent trip, and asked if it might be alright to drop by on him. “Of course, I’d be delighted”. When should we come?. “Oh anytime is fine, I am always here.” We are coming on the fifth, and perhaps we should call that morning to check that you will be in? “It’s not necessary. Just come anytime, but I’ll expect you on the fifth.”

We stayed overnight in Montreal on the fourth, and then in the morning,after breakfast we headed out on the two and a half hour drive north east to the village of St. Melanie. When we arrived at 611 Chemin du Lac Sud, we looked at each other and laughed because of course he was going to be home; he lived in a retirement lodge.

Bluebird

The front desk soon confirmed that he was waiting for us in his room. We were taken there and sure enough after knocking, the attendant opened the door and there he was sitting in his rocking chair surrounded with pieces of his work on every available surface. We counted over forty carvings. Mostly birds, animals, and people, and all of a small or medium size. What a wonder to behold. His eyes lit up as he explained that in anticipation of our visit he had his son bring everything he had left in storage, and also his carving tools, because now that someone was showing interest again, he felt he had a few more carvings in him, which he wanted to explore. We had a lovely talk about his life, and work. He and his wife had eleven kids, he had spent his entire life in St. Melanie, etc. While he spoke my eyes kept scanning the room, taking in all that was before me. Wonderful examples of different periods of his work. We noted that the little bluebird above was his most recent piece and there is an obvious difference between this later piece and the earlier pieces like the leopards below.

an earlier leopard

He exuded warmth and humility while answering our many questions, and telling us a few of his life’s stories. Then eventually , almost timidly, he suggested that we could buy a piece if we wanted something to remember our visit by. “well of course Mr. Lajeuness, . Could you please tell us your prices.”. He went around the room quoting prices from memory. Everything was from about $15 to $65 dollars. Then he offered, “So is there a piece you think you might like to have?”. Jeanine and I threw each other a knowing glance, and said “Well actually , we’d like to take all of them”. The depth of his smile cannot be described as we started a list of the pieces and their prices. Soon I was heading out to the truck where we had prepared ourselves for a possible happy outcome by bringing many cardboard boxes and.0

paper.

another example of a leopard. This one bought from Jean Lacasse many years later.

He told us that many of his fellow housemates had suggested that he would be lucky to sell even one piece, so we shared in his delight observing the dropped jaws and wide eyes of the residents in the lobby as we hauled out box after box of carvings. Eventually, we shook hands and told him we would try to get back for a visit in a year or so, but sadly soon after his family contacted us to inform us of his passing. Eventually his daughter sent us a multi-page biography in which we learned that legendary collector dealer Nettie Sharpe was a regular visitor in his productive years, and I find it strange considering this, and the excellent quality of his work, and the uniqueness of his vision that so little has been written about him. The only major publication where I can find any mention is “Les Paradis du Monde, L’art populaire du Quebec” by Pascale Galipeau which includes a full page photo of his carving of Maurice Duplessis on page 111.

Maurice Duplessis,
circa 1970

footnote:

“Chien Mechant” is the French warning for “Beware of dog” as you would see on a sign.

“Lajeunesse” is the French word for “youth”

Canadian Contemporary Folk Art Festival- remembering a significant, one time, folk art happening

Posted on January 22, 2016 by shadflyguy

Back on Sunday, June 26, 1994, my wife Jeanine and I as Old Church Trading participated in an ambitious, extensive, and ultimately one time special event that was, and remains the largest and most exciting folk art festival ever to take place in Ontario, if not all of Canada. Acknowledging here the annual Nova Scotia Folk Art Festival. It included 2 lectures, displays by a half a dozen folk art dealers, and the work of about 25 Contemporary Canadian Folk Artists, many who were in attendance. It all took place on one glorious summer day from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. at the Paris Ontario fairgrounds. It was an extraordinary opportunity for collectors, dealers, and folk artists to interact and network and to honor and support Canadian Folk Artists. I remain enormously grateful for having been included in this great event; and we sold a lot of folk art too.

The whole thing was conceived, organized, executed and financed by Canadian Folk Art collectors Michael and Peggy Hennigan, of Grosse Pointe, Michigan, and it was a giant undertaking. Not only for the set-up, and extensive promotion associated with a first time show, but also for organizing and paying for many artists to come from as far away as Alberta, and Nova Scotia. Many folk artists chipped in to help get the word out. I remember Michael’s gratitude to Joe Lloyd of Brantford who made up and distributed signs. We brought 25 of our best pieces by Ewald Rentz, Edmond Chatigny, Aime, Desmeules, Jacob Roth, and others, and were particularity happy to bring along two recently acquired six foot tall dinosaurs created by Quebec folk artist, Roger Raymond. They looked fantastic gracing each side of the entrance walk. Looking back it felt like it was over in a flash, but at the time it was a long day of exciting exchanges, sales, connecting with new (to us) artists, and last but not least, education. We met and started to carry the work of Woodstock area artist Barbara Clark-Fleming, and I was delighted with the opportunity to meet and hang out with the likes of Joe Lloyd, Garnet McPhail, Stephen Outhouse, and Mark Robichaud, not to mention all of those passionate collectors.

It was well attended for a first time event. A few hundred people as I recall, and most of those being driven and engaged; but it was less than anticipated, and less than required for the Hennigans to consider doing it again when weighed against the enormous workload, and expense. No one could blame them, as they certainly gave it their all, and none of this diminishes the fact that this event lives on in the memories of those involved as a unique and exciting day for collectors, dealers and artists alike, and a prime example of just how rich, fun, and informative a folk art festival can be.

I am reproducing the program here, and next Friday I will post a further look at some exciting and defining ideas about folk art brought about by this event. I am even going to look through my old photos and see if I can find a shot of those dragons. No promises I’ll do my best.

Thoughts and observations on the 2013 Bowmanville Antique Show

Posted on April 5, 2013 by shadflyguy

This is a picture of my booth at the 40th Edition of the Bowmanville Antique show. which was held Good Friday, March 29, and Saturday March 30th. As you can see I went heavy on the folk art and light on furniture. I love antique furniture, but I just don’t have the back for it anymore. If you want to see a slew of good pictures of the show please follow this link – http://www.facebook.com/groups/126697675589/ to Adrian Tinline’s Canadiana Antiques facebook page. If you are unfamiliar, this also serves to introduce you to this lively and informative forum. Join, if you will.

This year Bowmanville was, as always a beautiful show, full of exceptional works of antique and folk art, and early handmade Canadian furniture and accessories. All 24 exhibitors took special care to select and present their. best wares. Many dealers put aside special pieces all year to present them here for the first time.

The show started humbly in 1973 when picker and collector extraordinaire Rob Lambert decided to invite the best dealers in the field of Canadiana to hold an annual spring show near his home in Bowmanville, Ontario. In those early days dealers set up their offerings in their rooms at the Flying Dutchman hotel. When the starting bell rang, people would run (quite literally) from room to room to get ahead of their rivals, and purchase the treasures presented. It was wild and hectic, with occasional incidents of pushing and near fisticuffs. People were passionate about their collections back then. It quickly gained the reputation of being “the” Canadiana show and it’s numbers and reputation grew from year to year.

Eventually the show moved to the G.B. Rickard Recreation Complex where it has continued to be held until present day. For the past several years it has been expertly run by Bill and Linda Dobson. They have worked hard to maintain it’s tradition as a high quality, vetted show. The vetting process is carried out before the show by a group of experts who go from booth to booth checking everything out for authenticity, quality, and accuracy of presentation. Any repros, rebuilds, or items not meeting the criteria of the show are removed at this time.

I’ve been doing the show for about twenty years. I’ve always been happy to do it, but I’ve also always fretted about doing well. It all happens so fast. The bulk of the business is done within the first two hours of the show, People line up well ahead of time. From time to time people even camp outside the door overnight to be first in line. With so many beautiful items competing for attention, you have to be ready to rumble when they come running through the door at 6 pm. Chances are that by eight o’clock you will have sold the bulk of what you are going to sell. You are on your feet and on your toes selling, wrapping, and doing the math during those first two hours and then everyone clears out. By 9 pm you are either happy or concerned, but at least there is a good meal waiting for you. Bill and Linda have always had wine and beer and food ready to bring out as the show closes, and for the last couple of years Mary Jo Field has been producing absolutely fabulous meals that in themselves are good enough reason to book the show.

Although many come to see the show on Saturday the atmosphere is considerably more relaxed. This is fine because it allows you an opportunity to see the show, and chat with other dealers. Many of who I now see only once a year at this show. These chats often result in a few more sales or swaps. Then it’s all over at 4, and within a couple of hours you’re packed and on your way home, either feeling great, or not so great, or disappointed. It’s that kind of show. Some people will always do well, and some people not so well.

I’d say that for the past couple of years, like everywhere else, sales have been slower, but there are positive signs too, Prices are noticeably more reasonable, and interesting pieces, priced right do sell. It’s also great to see the show now includes three young dealers, Ben Lennox, Adrian Tinline, and Fairfield’s Antiques. All had excellent booths, and added to the excitement with their enthusiasm and knowledge. I also find it encouraging to see more young faces in the crowd, attendance figures are up over last year.

Here’s hoping that the Bowmanville show will continue to be a great place to see and buy the best in early Canadian antiques and folk art for at least another forty years.

My happy time with Mr. Joly’s whirligig

Posted on February 18, 2013 by shadflyguy

Gig on display at the church

It was 1984 when I crossed paths with this whirligig; during the period when I was going to the picker’s barns of the Victoriaville area of Quebec every other week. The drill was to leave home at 4 a.m., drive the ten hours, buy a truckload of furniture as quickly as possible, and get on home. It was in late November, and I remember the trip well because the temperature dropped quickly, and the Drummondville bridge froze up before the roadway. When I hit the bridge, I did a perfect 360 pirouette the entire length, coming back on course and continuing as though nothing had happened; frazzled but undeterred. Soon, the snow had come on so strong that for moments which seemed like eternity, I became completely lost, with no sense of direction within a big white cloud. All you can do when this happens is to slow down and listen for when the tires hit the gravel, thinking the whole time that a transport will come out of nowhere and drive right through you. Nasty. This was followed by long periods of the dreaded “hypno” snow, which is when the big fluffy flakes swirl over and over in spiral patterns until you think you’re going to loose it. Tough sledding.

An hour later, when I finally arrived at Paul Prince’s place near Defoy it was dark and snowing hard, but I was just so damn happy to be alive. The lights were on but Paul had gone home. I was about to leave when a picker I knew named Jimmy pulled in behind me. A great guy, and a legendary picker, he had been at it since he was a teenager. On this night he was on his way home from picking around Montreal, and he was really excited by something “special” he wanted to show me. Jimmy was never a guy to suppress his enthusiasm. Under the yard light, there in the back of his truck I could just make out this funky metal rocking boat gig in vivid paint. All 4 feet in length of it. I got excited too. When he showed me how the window cranking mechanism from an old Ford provided the gears for the rocking up and down of the boat, and the turning of the steering wheel I was a goner.

I had to think hard and fast because it was a lot of money, but a really cool thing; and I knew if I didn’t go for it, Paul, or the next guy would. “O.K. Jimmy here you go, but put it on my back seat so it doesn’t get smashed by the furniture”. “I’m doing you a favour by selling you this. You’re gonna make good money”. “Ya right, if I wait 25 years”. At this point Jimmy punched me in the arm and laughed, and the transaction was complete. I was delighted, but I had that slightly sick feeling I get when I stretch beyond my comfort range to acquire something special. I loved it, but I could have bought 4 or 5 cupboards for the same money, and at that point cupboards were selling well, at a good profit. Oh,what the hey. You’ve got to trust your instincts, and great things don’t come along every day.

The next day was snowy and cold, and I filled the truck quickly, thinking all day of the money spent, and wondering whether Jeanine would share my enthusiasm. I arrived home about 2 in the morning, so I left everything in the truck and went straight to bed. The next morning, over coffee, Jeanine asked me about the trip. I replied, “Oh good overall, but pretty intense”. I told her about the bridge incident, etc. and then casually mentioned that I bought something special that I hoped she would lke. I find it better to give confession right away, as delaying only adds to the suffering. “Well, go get it, and let’s see what you’ve done”. The moment of truth had arrived. Happily she loved it too, and we decided there and then to keep it for a good long time so we could appreciate it everyday. “Too bad we don’t know who made it”.

Fast forward to the next summer and we are enjoying a weekend in Quebec, our favourite North American city. We had heard of a bookstore where it was possible to buy a rare book, Les Patenteux du Quebec, which we knew to be the “bible” of Quebec folk art, .

page 19 of “les Patenteux du Quebec”

Published in 1978, it is the work of three young Quebec women who spent a summer or so traveling all over Quebec documenting, and recording the stories of every Quebec folk artist they could trace. We found the shop and bought the book, and when we cracked it open, it opened to page 19, and behold there was our whirligig. With a picture of it in it’s original location, and statement by the artist. Extraordinary.

We placed the piece on a low cupboard in front of the low wall which separated our kitchen from dining area, and there it sat for the next twenty years or so. We never offered it for sale but we had various offers over the years. The best was when a friend was returning to live in Italy, and he offered us his recent model Jeep in exchange. We thought about that one quite seriously, but refused figuring that the Jeep would rust out and be finished in a few years, where as the gig would just keep on going.

When we moved from the church to our current residence in Port Dover in 2003, we found it difficult to find the right place to display it. We considered mounting it high on a shelf above our front bay window, but that posed a risk of falling and crowning someone. It moved from place to place being a bit in the way, and ended up sitting on a ledge behind the couch, which is when we more or less forgot about it. I still noticed it, but it no longer “engaged” me, if you catch my drift. Jeanine felt the same. So it came to pass that last year in a mood of downsizing we decided that although we had really enjoyed owning the piece, it was time to pass it along. My friend, and serious collector Dr. Martin Osler had always coveted it, and had asked for first refusal, so I gave him a call. Because we can both be convoluted at times, and because there was no particular hurry, it took just about a full year to complete the transaction, but it now sits proudly on a high cupboard in the back of Marty’s office. A striking location in an important collection, and I am happy because I can visit it occasionally. Here is a photo of Marty, and his friend, contemporary artist Alex Cameron admiring the gig in it’s new home.

Marty and Alex enjoying his newest acquisition.

For me, after thirty years as a full time dealer I consider that I truly don’t own, or need to own anything. My job is to find it, to recognize it, and then to be a good custodian until I have found it a decent home, where it will be loved and preserved. It’s kind of liberating, actually.

Finding “Beauty in the Beast” at the Dufferin Museum

Posted on September 24, 2012 by shadflyguy

Interior of old Orange meeting hall houses Victorian English paintings and the contemporary bronzes of Adrian Sorrell (RCA) 1932-2001.

I had been looking forward since it’s April opening to seeing the exhibition “Beauty In The Beast – Animals as Objects & Art”, and last Tuesday I finally made the roughly 100 km drive northwest of Toronto to the Dufferin Museum to see it. I was expecting to be impressed, but to put it mildly, I was blown away. More succinctly, I’d have to say absolutely gobsmacked. It is an outstanding display of all things animal, and I drank it in for over two hours before finally succumbing to “visual overload”. I left knowing that I would have to make a return trip to further take it all in before the closing date of December 22.

Initially I was struck by how beautifully the impressively large barn-like structure of the museum blends in with the surrounding rolling farm country. Inside it is open and airy, and includes three full sized historic structures -a log cabin, an Orange Lodge meeting hall, and a railway flagging station. The current exhibit is on display throughout. There are animals everywhere you look.

And who doesn’t love looking at animals? After looking at ourselves, it is possibly our next favourite subject in art. It goes back to the first caveman drawings. I image the order was, himself, his wife, and then the animal he hunted, and depended on for his very sustenance. Landscapes came later. What’s amazing here is how the literally thousands of depictions cover almost every type of relationship we have with animals, and while viewing it, at times I was surprised by an almost primal emotional response which welled up from deep within. Animal effigies and Inuit carvings next to pastoral scenes of cows, horses and sheep, childhood memories of fantastic creatures and portraits of the family pet. The iconic and the mundane. Animals feared and animals worshiped. Animals past such as an American 1880 copper grasshopper weather vane, an Egyptian brass cat, dated 200-210 B.C., 2nd century BC, 3rd and 4th century Netsuke carvings from Japan. These along side present depictions of animals by several contemporary Canadian sculptors include Marina Fricke, E. B. Cox, Clifford Neil and Calgary’s Gary Williams who produces brilliant large Majolica pottery pieces.

Gary Williams, contemporary Majolica swan

Plus, and these alone are worth the price of admission, there are 5 stunning bronzes by the brilliant English sculptor Adrian Sorrell, shown in the photo up top.

And there is a lot of great, funky, funny folk art, past and present, which is guaranteed to make you, (and your kids if you’ve got them), smile. You just can’t help yourself when you look at the rusty tin covered cow by Contemporary Quebec artist, Patrick Amiot. Well, actually Mssr. Amiot now lives near San Francisco (I googled him), but you can see why we want to continue to claim him.

Cow by Patrick Amiot

Folk art fans will see many of their favourites including a few stunning miniatures by the master, William Loney (1878-1956) of Prince Edward County. They are in a charming, glass 6 sided gazebo which was brought in to house the miniatures. You can lose yourself there for a long stretch, Ill tell you. There is some fantastic animal related furniture as well, and a tree of life quilt which is to die for. It just doesn’t stop.

“A lady sheep, Isabella Brandt, Ruben’s much loved first wife”, oil on canvas by Canadian Lindee Climo.

And I could go on at length about the contemporary art. Surreal dream-scapes by Gilles Genest, with titles like “Kangaroo’s picnic”, and “Full moon, white cats and hydrangea”. Also fascinating is the exquisite work of Nova Scotia’s, Lindee Climo who paints animals in the style of the Old Renaissance Masters.

So how can I best express how strongly I feel that this is a first class, once in a lifetime, drop everything to rush out and see exhibition? I think I just did. Go see it.

“Terrier and Leaping Trout” , oil on canvas by Wylan Young, England,1902

Here’s a link to the museum site – http://www.dufferinmuseum.com/

shadflyguy

seeking authentic

Category Archives: Quebec folk art