More oldies - clamshell patterns

I lined up these clamshells on the White Rock beach to look at their designs.

All these were within a few metres of each other. 2009

The designs remind me of ancient Chinese brush paintings, such as this:

Painting by Wang Hui, 1662, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

And this one's from 2012, also at White Rock.

With the head of a dragon

Learn something new every day; they tell you it will keep you young. I don't know about that, but at least it keeps me interested.

I've been learning how to swap backgrounds on my photos. I keep forgetting the commands, so I worked far too long on it last night to do a blog post afterwards. Here's what held me up:

An antique jade turtle with a dragon's head, a Chinese symbol of longevity. It's a tea or sake pot that holds about a shot glass of liquid; the smaller turtle is the lid. I photographed it on a white sheet, for easy selection, then pasted a design from a card over the sheet, taking on the contours of the fabric.

This is fun! Not exactly appopriate for insect and bird photos, unless I mention at the time that the background has been changed, but it may be helpful when the insect in question prefers the wood of my desk to the leaf I have so carefully provided.

More photos from the Buddhist Temple

This modern world is spoiling us. We go on an outing, I come home and dock the camera, transfer the photos. By the time I've got my jacket and shoes put away, the photos are ready to be viewed, selected and blogged. So the photos from Laurie's film camera, not developed until he has finished the roll, not loaded to the computer until we have assessed the prints and taken them bodily back to London Drugs for loading to the web, almost come as an afterthought.

An afterthought well worth waiting for, though. There is a texture to film-based photos that I don't see in digital, a less clinical, gentler view of the world.

These are some of his photos from our visit to the Buddhist Temple a week or so ago.

Starting with the Guan Yin in the shade of flowering vines. (Compare with the March photos; there was more light back then, simpler shadows.)

The "laughing Buddha", in his glassed-in kiosk beside the pool. A side view, bringing to mind those Chinese sedan chairs. All he's missing are the poles and the carriers.

A bridge over the pond, with a turtle sunning himself on the ledge.

A happy reinlion. Or something. The mate to the one with a spider in his ear.
Dramatic colouring. Natural: Japanese maple,

And flowers floating in a stone tank.

And man-made: the roof of a tiled mural.

And, to untangle your eyes after that, a temple guardian in his kiosk, shady, serene and maybe oh-so-slightly amused.

Beauty and the Beasts

At our last visit to the Richmond Buddhist temple to see the jade Guan-Yin, we were told she would be once again on display "in the spring". So, it is spring; the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming. Time to go back.

We dawdled around the garden areas, first. The temple staff expends a fair amount of effort on this; it is an integral part of the philosophy, as essential as the statues of the Buddhas themselves. It's all about "mindfulness", awareness of the moment and our place in the ever-changing, ever-the-same pattern. Focussed attention on every act, seeing, hearing, speaking. Even a simple cup of tea becomes a reverent ritual.
Along the side of the parking lot.
A bud. I don't know what it will open out to.
Laurie in the rock garden by the gate, blending in.
The pool, with swimming dragons.

And I, of course, found tiny inhabitants, wasps and spiders. On one of the rock sculptures, a tiny seedling. On the seedling, a wasp.
They were building a nest on the next rocks over. The tiny stemmed upside-down paper flower is the beginning of the nest. (Click to see this full size. And see another from my box of goodies in close-up .)
And spider webs. In a crevice in the rocks:

And in the ear of a fantastic lion/reindeer. (Lion face and body, reindeer antlers.)
In the courtyard, the roof of a shrine held more fanciful creatures.
Another hybrid, just the size for a kid to ride:
And, necessarily, one of the Buddhas, meditating by a pool to the music of three strands of falling water.

The hall where the jade Guan-Yin is was still behind "Under Construction" signs. The woman I asked about it was more realistic than our previous informant. When would the hall be open? "A long time. Very long. Maybe a year."

Oh, well. Laurie pronounced himself satisfied with the beauty of the gardens; Guan-Yin can wait. She won't fade.

There were three peonies blooming beside the path back to the parking lot. Dessert.

Too Overwhelmed for Words (Almost)

Yesterday, we visited a friend we met at antique fairs, invited to see her father's collection of Chinese porcelain and paintings.

After "elevenses"; tea, sandwiches and a coconut cake, we went upstairs to the porcelain and jade room. More than 3 hours later, we tottered downstairs, exhausted.

We had looked until our eyes blurred, bent over delicate pieces and heard the stories depicted in elaborate scenes.

We examined the intricacies of carvings of warriors and dragons, saw gestalt figures in a large piece of jade, felt cold stone warm to our hands, imagined settings for this piece and that.

Listened as the art "spoke" to us.

Two of the pieces are displayed here; a large glass snuff bottle, painted on the inside (through a tiny opening barely wide enough for a skinny chopstick) with seashore and town centre scenes. Priced (see the website) at $980 Canadian.

I boggled at the idea of painting these: with what? An L-shaped, fine-tipped paintbrush? And a magnifying glass?

With immense talent and patience, that's certain.

And a plate decorated with three dragons contending for the "flaming pearl", which Goretti (the daughter and present owner) told us is symbolic of a great treasure, hidden away; the princess in her palace, for example. ($4,800.00)

Beautiful things, gorgeous jade, vases to die for, tiny bowls for the most exquisite tea, wine ewers, wood carvings, Kuan Yin statuettes in jade, porcelain, pottery, iron and stone. Boxes upon boxes containing indescribable wonder.

We barely skimmed the surface. And didn't get to the paintings at all.

Overwhelming, utterly discombobulating. The privilege to see and handle these treasures, a precious gift. Words fail me.

Thank you, Goretti, thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her website, again: Imperial Gallery . Drop in and spend an hour!