Our times at The North Hatley Antique and Folk Art Show

Posted on October 14, 2016 by shadflyguy

a giant moose head that came along for the ride.

When, in about 1986 we decided to expand our show calendar beyond the weekly Toronto Harbourfront Market and the spring and fall Christie shows, we decided that we would like to include the North Hatley Antique and Folk Art Show, held annually in early July in the beautiful Eastern Townships region of Quebec. Known as Canada’s oldest antique show, it also had and still has a deserved reputation for presenting top quality antique and folk art to an exclusive and appreciative clientele. North Hatley is a picturesque charmer of a small town on the banks of Lake Massawippi, and a playground to the affluent and powerful of Montreal and surrounding areas. The show, put on by the local Recreational Society is held in the old curling club with about fifteen dealers set up where the ice would be, and another 6 or so set up in the onlooking lounge. For the years we attended, until his death in 2007 it was run by the legendary Sam Pollock, who among many other things was the manager of the Montreal Canadians for 14 years, during which they won the Stanley Cup nine times. As you can imagine, Sam ran a tight ship. Every year he, and his loyal fellow volunteers would do everything from planning and preparing, to set up, and everything else involved in running a top notch show right down to the making of the delicious home-made egg salad sandwiches at the lunch bar. They may have been up in years, but those ladies knew their way around a good egg salad sandwich.

In those days, it was not easy to get invited to do the show. We were lucky to have friends like Peter Baker and Gerry Marks who had been doing the show for years to recommend us. The first year we had a tiny 10’ x 10’ booth wedged into a corner of the lounge area, which was mostly dedicated to book, pottery, and silver sellers, with the furniture dealers all being in the main room. We didn’t mind because being an unknown in terms of results, the rent was cheaper and we came with a smaller truck. We focused mainly on folk art, which was what the promoters wanted from us because it was becoming increasingly popular with this crowd. It went very well, and we had a great time to boot. Good sales, lovely people, and a stunning area to explore.

An interesting feature of the show is the gala Friday night opening. From 6:30 to 9:00 on the Friday night a $30 ticket buys you first crack at the stuff, and all the delicious hors-d’oeuvres, and wine you want. Lovely young waiters and waitresses passing amongst the crowd with trays. The experienced dealers warned us that opening night it is packed, and it may seem that all they do is talk to each other, and glance over your stuff. It is a big social event after all. But not to despair because when they see something they like they are in a good and competitive mood to buy. Also, they may go home and discuss it, and come back Saturday morning to buy. It worked out pretty much just like that. A few sales Friday night, then good sales all day Saturday, and even a few more on Sunday.

We kept the same booth for a couple of years and then moved to a bigger one in the same room when it became available. Then one year when I was doing the show by myself; I can’t remember when exactly, it must have been the late nineties, Sam came up to me and asked me if I would be interested in taking over a large room upstairs they had for the same price. He pitched “You can spread out the art and make it like a gallery. I think you can do well up there.” I knew the space. It was a big space, about 20’ x 30’ with two front facing windows which brought in a lot of natural light. It must have been used for meetings.

my “gallery”
at the North Hatley show

“Well, yes Sam the space is great, but not to mention that everything has to go up and down the fire escape, I will be on my own up there, apart from the show. It might get pretty lonely”. “Ah, but don’t forget Phil, that’s where the woman’s washroom is. All the ladies will pass by eventually, and they’ll drag their husband’s up”. I thought about it for a minute and decided he was probably right. It just might work, and if it did the price was right. So I agreed, and started to haul everything up the steep fire escape that led directly to the room. A big task, but much easier than dragging everything through the inside. It took the whole afternoon to set up, but in the end it looked like a gallery. I even had a table and chairs in front of the window where I could sit and do business, or read the paper in slow times. Not to mention eating egg salad sandwiches. So close. So tasty. So affordable. I put up a little sign with an arrow pointing up at the base of the inside staircase announcing “Folk Art Upstairs”. I hoped that somebody might see it.

looking into my “gallery”
from the hall

6:30 arrived and at first I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake because I could hear the people coming in, chatting and having fun for a full thirty minutes before anyone showed their face. But then it started. The first lady poked her nose in, and was surprised to find me and my offerings. Fortunately she was a folk art enthusiast and went directly to several pieces of carvers she recognized. She bought three things right then and there, and I was off to the races. It was out of the way, but when the folk art people found me, they really connected, and would not only buy, but go down and drag their friends up. I met several people that year that became long -time friends and customers. It was already a great show by Saturday at noon and then Pierre Riverin walked in. I’d heard about the “collecting” mayor of the town of Eastman for several years but we had never crossed paths. We talked for over an hour, he bought several pieces, and it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. It is a rare and precious moment when you find yourself in the right place, at the right time, with the right stuff. Even with all the effort of getting everything up and down those stairs, it was worth it many times over. I had a wonderful show and I was happy up there. I repeated this for a few more years before the hauling up and down began to outweigh the benefit, so when a bigger booth on the main floor became available I grabbed it.

myself and Tom DeVolpi enjoying a beverage

Over the years we got to know several of the Quebec dealers, designers, and collectors who frequent this unique annual show. For a time many of us participating dealers would get together on Saturday night and enjoy the evening together at some wonderful local Inn or restaurant. There are several to choose from. Then through our friend Tom De Volpi, and our friends Jim and Ilona Fleming, we were invited to an annual Saturday night dealer’s dinner held at the nearby summer home of a lovely Montreal designer named Valery. It was always a wonderful, warm get together, not to mention a delicious dinner; and we were grateful for her hospitality and the chance to spend some happy time with our fellows.

Eventually, as in all stories, the pages turn, and times change, and so it was that by 2008, (I remember it because, although still a good show, it just didn’t feel the same without Sam being there), along with slumping sales, we reached the point and age where we just couldn’t justify the ten hour drive to and from home, and all the work that doing the show entailed. Mind you this was part of a larger retreat from doing shows altogether. We truly don’t miss the work, but we do miss the people. They were some very good times.

the “gang”
at Valerie and Henri’s

“living the dream”, a church full of great stuff in the middle of nowhere

Posted on August 26, 2016 by shadflyguy

later on when most of the furniture was gone and it was largely folk art

I can remember standing in the partially dilapidated main hall of the old Wyecombe Methodist church for the first time, and thinking “this would make a fabulous antique store.” It’s 1981 and Jeanine has read a classified ad in the London Free Press about a church for sale in Norfolk County for $21,000. We decided to take a ride in the country and have a look just for the fun of it. Seemed harmless enough. Well damned if we didn’t fall in love with the vaulted, 28’ patterned tin ceiling, and surrounding 14’ Gothic windows. We loved the size, exposure and location of the place and saw the potential; and so in spite of all our friends and family advice against it, we bought the dream. Thus along with our new alternative life style we began several years of hard labor renovating and maintaining the joint. We soon discovered why these church halls are typically taken on by a community, and not individuals. Everything is large scale. Thirty gallons of paint rather than four. We loved the challenge. We could see the phoenix rising from the ashes.

As life demands, simultaneous to the renovation we began to buy and sell antiques, to meet our needs, and so our main concern was to sell every weekend at the Toronto Harbourfront market. We didn’t think many would find us in the outback and we were happy with the income from the market. But it wasn’t long before dealers and other customers started to make the trip out to see what we had at home. At first it was more of a warehouse than a show room, but over the years we refined and added showcases, and shelving and by about 1990 it was usually quite full and fairly organized. Of course everything had to be dragged up and down the wide, front steps, but we were young and stupid; and didn’t care. Like many of us at that time who found themselves being full-time antique dealers, it was the alternative lifestyle thing that attracted us. It was more out of an aesthetic interest than any well thought out business plan that the sales room of Old Church Trading came about. That and the natural tendency for things to pile up as you continue in this business, and thus the need to find some place to keep them.

In the fall of 1996 a Quebec dealer friend of ours started to bring huge loads of mediocre stuff to a Guelph auction every other week, and proposed that he also bring along some good things for us to sell for him. Things were changing in Quebec. We had the room, and had done good business together over the years so we said yes. It was great. He kept bringing us wonderful things. Not a lot at a time, but excellent quality. We loved to see him pull in. It was like Christmas.

Our Harbourfront days were now behind us, but with some good dealer trade and with a schedule of about twelve shows a year we continued to go through a lot of stock. People who had not been by for a while often commented that it was amazing how much the stock kept changing. That, and it just kept getting fuller. Cupboards were now in rows and stacked one on top of the other. I felt proud that it was looking like a Quebec picker’s barn. I loved to stand at the front of the big room and look over the variety of interesting things. Although visitors were few and sometimes far between, those who made the trip usually were serious and went home with something, or often with lots of things. We really didn’t advertise all that much, or encourage passing trade. There was a small sign at the road but that was all. Most who came were people we knew from shows. Or people who learned about us through them. I guess we could have pushed harder, but we like staying a bit out of the way. Mysterious and a bit aloof. Not in a “pearls before swine sort of way”, but just by saying “here it is. We think it’s great. If you think it’s great and want to take it home, we are happy to help you carry it out. Otherwise, we hope you had a nice time and it was worth the drive.” You could be that cocky back then.

Late in 1997 our Quebec pal’s arrangement with the auction house ended and he stopped coming, so we bought about half the stock we had, and sent the rest home with him. The market was changing, and so were we. We were becoming more interested in the folk art, and although I loved the furniture, my back was just about pooched, and the furniture market was slowing, so we decided to downsize and focus on smalls. Oh how dismissive a young me and my colleagues had been watching the “smalls” dealers bringing in their boxes, and now I was one of them. Less and less furniture came up those stairs.

Our daughter Cassandra had left for Queens a few years earlier, so by the year 2000 we started to think about ourselves in the not too distant future being old, and a bit crazy, rambling around the church in old patched sweaters, so we decided that a move into town and a new scene was the next project. It took us three years to wind down the church and move on to Port Dover, and don’t get me wrong. We’re happy we did. But for a while there we were living our dream. A great shop, in the middle of nowhere, which almost nobody knows about. Looking back, I can see that it was almost like building a folly.

The paintings of Barbara Clark Fleming

Posted on August 19, 2016 by shadflyguy

Artist’s Statement:

“All of my paintings reflect upon my country life. Paintings of rural landscapes and different animals, all of which are a link to my past. I was born in 1939 on a 150 acre farm in East Zorra, Ontario, where my father farmed with horses. My mom and dad had no boys, so I became my dad’s helper. As a result of these memories my paintings frequently reflect scenes of haying, threshing, fetching cows, and scenes of country villages.

I never took lessons in painting. I just wanted to put my feelings on canvas. I don’t like painting straight lines, I prefer curves and waves. I do all my painting at home in the country, and I use many different colours. I started painting in 1977 as I realized I had no pictures of my dad’s farm. To keep memories of that farm alive my first picture was painted, and it was entered into the Oxford County Juried Exhibition and won an award of merit. It still have that painting. I did not take my painting seriously until 1989 when an accident prevented me from working full time. I hope that everyone who views my paintings receives as much pleasure as I receive painting them.”

As mentioned in my previous blog about the Canadian Contemporary Folk Art Festival, it was here in 1994 that we first encountered the work of Barbara Clark Fleming. Shortly after we contacted her and made our first trip to her home near Woodstock, Ontario.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived at her neat little hobby farm was the pony in a paddock at the rear. Barbara met us at the door and although obviously very shy was none the less welcoming and told us about her pet horse and her love for all animals. We then went in to the house to discover a turtle crawling across the kitchen floor, a couple of cats lounging about, and a little white bunny who would hide behind the furniture and hop by occasionally. We were introduced to her husband Stan, who was stretched out in a recliner chair in the living room. A very nice man who was by this point very ill and requiring her full time care. She took us into a little room beside which was her studio. Here she painted on a flat school desk over which hung a large combination lamp/ magnifying glass. Barbara explained that she is very near sighted and required this set up for the details. She said that the painting was a great escape for her, as she was required to be at home, indoors most of the time. She essentially remembers happy scenes from her childhood and paints them spontaneously. Although she is not conscious of it, this method was and is the essence of what gives her work it’s spontaneous energy, strength and beauty.. She paints because she loves to paint with no concern for conventional form or perspective. She is fearless and direct and simply works until she is happy with the painting. We love this about her work. We bought about twelve paintings that day and thus began a long relationship with Barbara and her art.

She looked after Stan at home until his death a couple of years later, after which she got out and traveled around the nearby countryside, observing and documenting those elements of rural life that she still related to her upbringing. Thus she began to paint Mennonite farms, and old feed mills that reminded her of her youth.

We believe that the first rule of dealing with folk artists is “Do not influence”. It is always tempting to “suggest” painting more paintings in a style which you find to be most commercial, but ultimately it is this type of influence which kills the natural wonder and instincts which nurtures an artist’s development. If an artist starts to paint to please you, it is not long before they grow bored and resentful.

In 1995 we took fourteen of Barbara’s paintings to the summer Muskoka Antique Show and sold all fourteen on the opening night. I seriously considered driving home that night to fetch more, but it was eight hours round trip so didn’t. Barbara’s paintings sold well at every show including Muskoka the following year, and continued to be very popular for about another five years before interest waned. Interest and sales have gone up and down since, but nothing like when we first introduced them to the Canadian market at that time. She continues to paint excellent paintings.

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

Remembering Billie Orr and his Muskoka folk art Paradise

Posted on June 10, 2016 by shadflyguy

Billy in front of his cabin

Back in the nineties, Billie Orr was a familiar figure in Bracebridge, Ontario. My friend Scott Beasley would see him at least once a week, shuffling along the street carrying his bags of groceries and supplies, as he headed out towards his property which lay about three miles out of town on an isolated craggy, wooded acreage overlooking a river.

With his perpetual Irish cap, and lower lip which seemed in danger of dragging on the ground, Billy was well known, and universally liked by the locals. Scott took to talking to him, and found out that Billie lived on his own on the property he was raised on, and having a good picker’s instinct, he eventually got Billie to invite him for a visit. What he found was fascinating. A bit later, I happened to be in the area and was interested, so Scott and I headed out one fine summer morning for a visit.

Billie lived in a log cabin with no running water and one electrical outlet on a large remote acreage not far from town. It was a pretty funky set up. He had to go down the hill to fetch water, and the cabin looked like nothing had been done to it in several years. We came down the long lane to the cabin and there was Billy standing in the open front door. Although old, and obviously used to living alone, he was welcoming and articulate. He started right in telling us about his upbringing. His father was an inspector on the railroad, and had built the cabin in the first quarter of the century for his wife and Billie and his sister. Billie’s sister moved away. Bill never left. He never married, and never drove a car. He would walk into Bracebridge once a week and get what he needed, which wasn’t much. Bill still cut all his own wood, fetched his water, and grew a large garden so he was practically self-sufficient.

We were chatting away in the main room of the cabin when suddenly a large mother raccoon appeared at the door. Billie excused himself. “Good morning little mother. As you can see I have guests but I have your breakfast ready for you.” At this he disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a granite plate full of table scraps, and sets it down outside the front door. Mother raccoon made a friendly, grateful noise and set at it. We continued the tour.

Billie’s carved Irish little people

At the side of the room here was a steep set of stairs which led to the second floor. You could see that the top steps were completely covered in soot, and Billie explained that he had had a fire up there a couple of years back, but had managed to get it out before it destroyed the place. Obviously he was no longer using the upstairs as it had never been cleaned. On the steps there were several small carvings of Irish people and little wheelbarrows which Billy had made some years back with a view to selling them to tourists. I guess he never found a venue for selling them because he had several of them in a row, all covered in a layer of soot from the fire. “These are cool Billie. Any chance you would sell us a couple of them.” “Well, I could sell you one or two I suppose. If you want to buy more, you will have to come back”. I realised that this was Billie’s technique for assuring a future visit. He obviously enjoyed conversation, and “human” visitors were rare.

cement leprechaun

Next he took us out back to show us his other work. There among the trees stood several hand formed cement figures depicting Irish Leprechauns, and Colleens (young women) and several figures depicting the signs of the Zodiac. Billy explained that he made these free form by placing metal armatures (or skeletal forms) in the sand and then building them up with cement. They were all wonderful folk art, and a vision to see in this natural setting. Just behind them Billy had years before planted a circle of trees which grew to a great height and were meant to depict Stonehenge. What an amazing creation. I was awe struck.

There is so much more to say about Billie and my subsequent visits that I will continue the story next week in my Friday Blog. Billie was a true “outsider” in every sense of the word, and I am honored and privileged to have known him.

The manufactured “folk art” of Pierre et Claire Inc.

Posted on June 3, 2016 by shadflyguy

the cover of our mail order brochure

Last Saturday at Christie in anticipation of this article, I looked to see how many animals I could find which were manufactured by this small Quebec company. Although it was too hot to cover the entire field, I did manage about ½ of it, and in that area I found five. I noted that we as Old Church Trading had painted three of the five. This gives you an idea of the scope of production of this company.

Rene Beaudoin was one of the original, and possibly the most successful of the Quebec pickers which started up in the 1960’s in the Victoriaville region of Quebec. There were several small farms in the region, and everyone seemed inclined to keep all the old furniture and accessories as it was replaced in the barns, basements, and attics on the property. The popularization of antiques brought in part by Expo 67 signaled the start of the antique picking industry, and Rene, although reportedly not able to read or write, had a keen understanding of business and quickly became the main man, hiring several men to go out and knock on doors, and they fetched all and everything available, bringing it back daily to his large farm near Defoy. After becoming enormously successful in the antique trade, in 1978 he decided to create a small manufacturing business, employing some of the wonderfully talented wood workers of the region to create high quality reproductions of antiques, and copies of wood carvings which were prevalent in the area. In 1983 his daughter Claire, who is married to Pierre Trudel, bought the company from Rene, and thus Pierre et Claire Inc. was formed.

unfinished order arriving from Pierre et Claire

The company exists to this day at its original location of 1197 Rue Principale, St. Anne Du Sault (Defoy), Quebec, and continues to manufacture reproductions of antiques and animal carvings with about five full time employees. When we discovered them back in the early 80’s we decided to set up a mail order business for the animals which we called Old Church Trading. We advertised in Harrowsmith magazine in Canada, and Country Home magazine in the States. We offered many different animals both in the sanded, unfinished state that we bought them in, and varnished or painted which we did ourselves. We sold hundreds of them both through mail order, and at the Harbourfront market in Toronto, which we attended every Sunday. At the time it seemed everyone wanted a nice pine, carved goose or swan to sit on their harvest table or cupboard.

various cow models

We would stop in every other week or so and fill out our orders, going through the bins of carvings and picking out the nicest ducks, geese, swans, loons, roosters, and other animals. We were always interested to see what new models they would come up with. Penguins, buffalo, bears etc. would appear. The prices were always reasonable. I recall the standard size goose would cost about $16 each. Although there was some variation in quality, (sometimes they would have large knots, or be slightly malformed) overall they were very nicely done. Initially, all the models were cut out from solid pine, but sometimes these pieces would crack with time, especially if they were not adequately finished, so eventually they started to offer laminated models at a slightly higher price. This solved the cracking problem, but didn’t look as nice and natural in varnish. Of course they were the best ones to buy for painting.

inside the factory. Note the pile of geese in the background

As far as I know this small company was, and is the only North American company to “manufacture” folk art type carvings. Although by the fact that they are manufactured and mass produced they cannot truly be considered as folk art. And yet you cannot really call them reproductions either because in many cases they are an original design. For folk art collectors it is important to know of these carvings, and be able to spot them. They are fine for decoration when bought at the right price, but should not be confused with “real” folk art, which are items of individual expression, and not mass produced. Although we must also acknowledge that many folk artists, Maud Lewis springs to mind, would repeat favored images over and over again, it is quite different than banging out 100’s of identical ducks using templates and modern wood working tools. Ironically, I think their market has been effected when the Chinese started to reproduce copies of their work. I’ve seen lots of these too.

the very popular rooster, and hen with our paint jobs

note how this is modeled after the Black Horse Beer display

Pierre et Claire continue to be in business, and have a web site at www.pierreetclaireinc.com, but it is in French only, and does not show many of their available carvings.

Our painted versions of Pierre et Claire animals

My Afternoon with Eddie Mandaggio

Posted on May 20, 2016 by shadflyguy

Eddie Mandaggio was born in Manitoba in 1927. He spent his early years working in Northern Manitoba and Ontario as a trapper, and as a hunting and fishing guide. He came to Nova Scotia in 1951 and settled in Camperdown, Queen’s Country, where he lived until his death in 2003.

He initially worked for the railroad for eight years, and then worked in the logging camps. Eddie started carving in 1974 out of a desire to make decorations for his cabin. He followed with painting in 1976. His subjects are geese, roosters, cows, horses and also some human heads. His carved pieces greatly outnumber his painted works.

Eddie’s famous white goose

In the mid -nineties I had the occasion to meet Mr. Mandaggio, and although I was trying to take in as many artists as I could in a short stay, and had intended to just stay for an hour, we became so engaged in conversation that I ended up spending the entire afternoon. I missed out on meeting a few others but my time with Eddie remains close to my heart.

I flew to Nova Scotia to view and consider purchasing a major folk art collection which belonged to a friend of a friend named Iris Newman. Iris is a lovely person. who got bit early by the folk art bug,and had the means, space, and desire to build a major collection, purchasing major works directly from the artists. She is featured in the NFB film “folk art found me”, and she is generally acknowledged as one of the main promotors and supporters of the Nova Scotia folk art community. We had a lovely lunch and fell into talking like old friends for a couple of hours before she took me around her large home and showed me the extent of the collection. Although amazing in quality and scope It turned out to be too many massive pieces which I knew would be hard to place, and she was strictly committed to an “all or nothing” deal so it didn’t work out, but I learned a lot from her and we did remain friends. Of this vast collection, one of the most impressive things for me was two very large paintings of tiny cows in a big field by Eddie Mandaggio. It was the first Mandaggio paintings I had seen and there is something about those giant fields with those tiny cows that hit all my buttons. She was keeping them and I completely understand why. So after an afternoon of talking, and documenting the collection it was time for me to go. As I was leaving I told Iris that the following day before I had to catch the evening flight home, I was going to go to the Lunenburg area to meet the Naugler brothers, Garnet Macphail, and Eddie Mandaggio who was already one of my favourite Nova Scotia folk artists. “Oh that’s great Phil. You’ll have a wonderful time, but I must ask one thing of you.” O.K.? “When you get to Eddie’s you will see that he has recently carved a very large moose head trophy, and I have decided to buy it, so don’t you go and buy it.” Ouch. I hated to agree but Iris is a lovely and determined person, and I was still considering her collection so I reluctantly agreed.

One of Eddie’s cow paintings

After a delightful morning with the Nauglers which will be the subject of another blog, and after a delicious bowl of chowder at a roadside restaurant, I got to Eddie’s place. Immediately we hit it off. Eddie was very kind and open, and wonderfully generous in his description of his past careers. He was particularly articulate about his love of carving, and stated that although he had been painting for the past few years, most of these paintings remained in the basement of the Houston gallery in nearby Lunenburg, and not many had sold, so he reckoned that he must not be a very good painter. “Au contraire, mon Ami” “I think you are a fabulous painter. I was knocked out by the paintings in Iris’ living room.” “Really. Well thank you for telling me. I don’t get much feed- back and most people just want me to keep making my “hits” like the big white geese. It’s not much fun doing the same thing over and over again, and actually not why I started carving in the first place. I’ve started to refuse the large orders that have kept me doing the same thing for the past few years. For me carving is a wonderful therapy to counter my jumpy nerves, but I have to be free to experiment or it becomes too much like a regular job.” “I absolutely agree with you Eddie. You must be free to let your imagination roam. Have fun with it, and whatever you do, don’t give up painting.” Eddie smiled that winning smile of his. “Thanks for saying.”

Of course there in the background the entire time we are talking hung the extraordinarily beautiful massive moose head on a red heart shaped crest which Iris had forbidden me to buy. Tagged $750. I would have given him the cash in a second if I was not bound to my word. What can you do?

That was the one and only time I met Eddie, and he became quite ill and stopped carving soon after. I never did get on to see Garnet MacPhail, but I don’t regret a minute of the time I spent there with Eddie in Camperdown. A few months later I received the following polaroid of Eddie with a new cows in the field painting. Unfortunately I didn’t move quickly enough and missed it. If you would like to know more about Eddie, the Black Sheep Gallery has posted a wonderful series of You tube videos you can look up.

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

Folk art arrives at the door – The Barbara Browne Collection

Posted on March 25, 2016 by shadflyguy

drawing by Liz Barrett-Milner

It was a sunny, August day in 1995, and we had just finished our lunch when there came a knock on the back door. We weren’t expecting anyone, and it was rare for anyone to visit without calling ahead. This, because we were so often on the road that our friends knew to give us the heads up before coming by. We opened to find a small elderly lady standing there with a big smile and a portfolio under her arm. “Are you the folks who buy folk art?” “Well yes, we have been known to do so. How can we help you?” “My name is Barbara Browne, and I live down the road in Port Rowan, and I have a collection of folk art which I would like to sell.” “Come right in and tell us about it.”

She explained that she was an artist who had collected Canadian folk art for the past twenty years, and she was about to buy a smaller house in Simcoe, and thus needed to downsize, and recoup her investment to help with the purchase. “What is the nature of your collection?” She reached into her portfolio and produced a twenty-page booklet of meticulously hand drawn illustrations of folk art with dimensions, which we later learned were produced for her by her niece, well-know Norfolk artist Liz Barrett-Milner. “It’s all in here. There are 185 pieces all told, and I am only interested in sell the whole thing. No picking and choosing.” There was some mind blowing stuff, including works by Nova Scotia artists Charlie Atkinson, Charlie Tanner, and Everett Lewis; as well as many Ontario artists such as Clarence Webster, Joe Lloyd, Steve Sutch, and Robert McCairns. Most pieces were smaller in nature, but there was also a big wall-mounted cow’s head, a couple of 8’ totem poles, a full size deer, and last but not least, the best folk art hooked rug I had ever set eyes on, depicting a fat man and dated 1916.

head by Robert McCairns

“We won’t beat around the bush. It’s all of interest, but of course it depends on your expectations” She then produced an itemized price list of what she felt would be current list prices. “I understand you need to make money, so this is what I think it is worth, and I would therefore expect half”. “In principle that sounds fair so let us go over it and get back to you.”

What followed was four or five meetings at her house where we viewed the items and discussed the prices. It became a bit complicated as each time we arrived we she had decided that there were a few more items that she felt she needed to keep, but it came to pass that we arrived at a final list and a final price, and so a date was set to complete the deal and pick up the pieces.

On that day, she informed us that she didn’t want to be there as we removed the pieces as it would be sad for her, so she wanted to go for a walk and return when we were finished. We weren’t at all comfortable with this, but agreed on the condition that we would line up the pieces outside by the truck, and she would review the load before we left, and that’s how we did it.

Barbara Browne and Cassandra by the truck

Barbara was an excellent artist in herself, and continued to be a friend and inspiration until her death several years later. The collection sold well, and the fat man rug was featured prominently in the John Fleming/ Michael Rowan book on Canadian folk art.

the fat man rug

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