MARY PRATT
Mary Pratt was the first artist I fell in love with. I was 15 years old and visiting the Vancouver Art Gallery alone for the very first time. I saw an image on a postcard in the gallery shop, bought it, and carried it with me throughout the years. The image was of a new baby being bathed in a small free-standing tub, painted in warm tones and with immense attention to detail. I didn’t realize that this image would impact me in the future so drastically, through grief, celebration and poetry.
Years later I spent the day with Mary in my role as an art museum curator of public programs. I toured her through the Qu’Appelle Valley and did my best to ‘be cool’. We explored the valley and town of Lumsden, looking at my grandfather-in-laws’ outdoor sculptures together. She told me I reminded her of her daughter. At the end of the afternoon, I dropped her at her hotel and she walked away through the large glass doors. I hung my head and wept.
JOAN DIDION
Joann Didion is one of my favourite authors of all time. I discovered her work later in life. A close friend of mine gave me a copy of The Year of Magical Thinking and I was instantly moved. I have experienced a healthy dose of grief in my lifetime and I had never had a chance to examine my experience of grief from all directions. Didion’s writing helped me hold it, take a close look at it, and find peace in the tidal wave. The way she seeks to explain the world and us humans is pure poetry.