Dragon's Eye. Duncan Regehr
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Название: Dragon's Eye
Автор: Duncan Regehr
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежные стихи
isbn: 9781462918027
isbn:
I was in awe of my father’s paintings. Peter Regehr emigrated from Russia in 1926. As one-tenth of a Mennonite family, he grew up in the cradle of poverty on a farm in southern Alberta. Prairie landscapes and animals often dominate his subject matter.
I envy his solid draftsmanship. His creations are powerfully connected to the earth. My strongest childhood memories of him always include the garden where we grew vegetables ... and built stone walls.
My father tried to give me pointers from time to time, but I was far too intimidated to show him any of my “special” work. I was an elusive pupil and I kept much of myself hidden from my family. Admittedly, I was attracted to the romance of keeping secrets, but I was convinced that I, my work and the way in which I worked, would never be accepted. I withdrew to develop on my own. In time, I grew more skillful and became comfortable enough to come out of hiding. I left home as the 1960s ended.
Nag’s Flight-Equus INK AND WATERCOLOR 18”x24” 1972
Peter the Rock-for my father
My father’s hands are seventy-five,
With gorges and lattice fissures,
Where oceans and prairie swept
An iron darkness in stained knuckles.
Shale-sheathed palms challenge gravel
Winds and tenderness.
Cobbling in fingers and callouses, inlaid
With sea shells, petroglyphs and lava
Is the need to never tire.
But never a changer
Or strip-miner bound by Midas’ gloves.
This rearranger heaves gravity
Delicate like a child.
And shifts granite by dainty fulcrum
To caress a flower’s bed.
— DR
PETER REGEHR Stone Horse CASEIN ON MASONITE 16” x 21”
Teaching me to read at a very young age was my mother’s greatest gift. I inherited her love of the classics, of which she retains a vast knowledge. Although we lived far out in the country, she insisted that her four children make regular visits to the city library. We had no television and I fell in love with literature. It soon found its way into my special work. I would disappear into the woods for hours, acting out entire novels and reciting poetry and plays. During the course of a week, I would be Robin Hood, Hiawatha, Romeo, Grendel, Odysseus, Fagan, Moses, and all three of the Musketeers. By the age of twelve, I had a sense that my life would also include acting and writing.
Indian OIL 30” x 24”
Over the years I have learned through a natural process of experience how to focus energy and different states of mind for my mediums of expression. All require emotional investigation. To act, I must become an extrovert. Writing and painting are more introverted art forms. To juggle them all, to switch back and forth amongst them, or join them together by related themes, has always been wonderfully complicated. During my teens and early twenties, focus and concentration often eluded me.
In 1969, Dr. Ralph Allen, who later produced Sugar Babies on Broadway, formed a theatre company called Victoria Fair. I auditioned and was hired as the youngest member of the company.
Jugglers OIL 30”x15” 1977
Dr. Ralph Allen INK AND WATERCOLOR 16” x 12” 1972
A production of Justice Not Revenge, directed by Dr. Ralph Allen, Victoria Fair Theatre Company, 1971
Ralph, a brash, good-humored, extremely well-educated man, terrified me. He threw me in at the deep end of Shakespeare and the classics by generously giving me strong roles in his productions. Some of them, I feel, were far beyond my age and ability at the time.
After my audition, I remember standing before his desk while he leaned back in his chair and passionately expounded to the ceiling that I must treat every part, no matter how small, as the starring role of the show.
During this lecture, Max, his equally passionate Schnauzer, vigorously embraced my lower leg. I broke out in a sweat. The vice-like grip of canine amour is unshakeable, and there wasn’t a bucket of cold water in sight.
George Bernard Shaw WATERCOLOR 22”x18” 1973
Lady Bracknell WATERCOLOR 24” x 18” 1972-1973
Ralph continued on the importance of concentration.
“It’s all there in the material, Regehr, focus on that. Work with the audience, but don’t let them distract you.”
My concentration was already split between trying to impress Ralph with my mature attitude and the hopeless effort of dislodging the lovesick Max, who was steadily rocking himself into a frenzy. My whole body strained.
After what seemed like an endless sermon of praise to the sacrifices one had to make for a life in the theatre, Ralph brought his speech to a climactic finish. At the same moment, Max went rigid with ecstasy, coughed once, and slid to the floor in a wheezing heap.
Ralph swiveled around to face me, leveling his forefinger like a Colt 45.
“And let nothing,” he fired, “I repeat, nothing, deter you from the path of your career!”
“Yes sir,” I rasped. My throat was dry. “Thank you, sir!”
I quickly headed for the door, dragging my ravished leg behind me.
“Oh, by the way, Regehr ...”
“Sir?”
He knelt down to stroke Max. “You got the job, ya’ know, so don’t be so damn nervous. I want you to concentrate, but I also want you to relax. Like good ol’ Max here,” he laughed, “I hope I make myself clear,”
Upon hearing his name, Max sat up and began eyeballing my other СКАЧАТЬ