Wilderness as Commodity – 30th November, 2016

Why does this calendar represent the Canadian wilderness? I think this is an important question to ask myself. After all, if I am exploring this calendar through a class where Canadian wilderness is a big theme, I should have an answer. I have mostly researched and thought about my calendar as two separate things – the painting (or its reproduction) and the product. It is important to explore the marriage of the two and how that relates to themes of wilderness. I draw connections to both through Tina Loo’s essay as it deals with ideas of commodifying Wilderness. Loo expresses this same idea in her discussion of the creation of parks and reserves to indulge in the desire to create better environments for sport. In the calendar, Wilderness is packaged first by the artists into paintings, and then once again by the printing company as a form of date-tracking and display. Buyers are intrigued by the images – how they are representative of wilderness and the Canadian psyche. We see the enjoyment of these such paintings as a sign of high class. The bundling together of the paintings with the calendar is a way to get a two-for-one functional form of displaying art.

Duality of Symbols – 30th November, 2016

          I listened to Misao Dean’s interview with CBC Radio regarding the canoe as a symbol of both Canadian pride and its history of genocide. In it, she notes many of these people who so highly revere the canoe come from privileged upbringings. “Certainly the majority of wilderness canoers are people who have a very privileged place in society … They are almost completely white,” she states (Dean). This struck me as very eye-opening. As a person of colour, I have always been attuned to the privileged that white people have in our world. Yet, it has never struck me how much influence that one nation has on crafting an entire nation’s identity. Indeed, the Group of Seven’s company consists entirely of like-minded, privileged white men. They have shaped the very foundation of Canadian art. Emily Carr, for example, was inspired by them to begin her own journey into Canadian Landscape painting. Why is this important for me? Well, as someone who is not white and not Canadian, I have experienced this country through a very much tinted lens. I know, for example, of First Nations relations mostly through my white friends. The true history of this country is obscured and molded a little bit to fit a certain bias. So when we see a painting by the Group of Seven, it is seen as the quintessence of Canadian art and therefore we want to hang them up on our walls and put them on calendars. Likewise, Dr. Dean’s interview communicates the importance of understanding the duality of the symbol of the canoe. She reminds us that there are always two sides of the coin. Yes, the Group of Seven introduced a unique style of Canadian art, but in a way, in doing so, they also obscured names of indigenous artists, artists of colour, and even non-landscape artists from the contemporary Canadian canon. I know I am not able to name any other famous Canadian artists other than Emily Carr.

A Staple in the Home – 26th November, 2016

I realize that, so far at least, in focusing on my calendar as an object, I really haven’t yet explored how the calendar in particular relates to our concept of Wilderness. It is easy to see how the subject matter – outdoor landscape paintings – contribute to it’s ‘wilderness-ness’, but what about the calendar itself? In my previous entry, I looked into the history of the calendar and came to realize how the printed calendar and visual images have come hand and hand. Why is this? I think in its early days, images on the calendar were just like works of art. We hang up posters, for example, for the very same reasons. But, why, in today’s society, do we still buy these calendars? The one I am exploring cost me $20. Why are we giving so much value to these objects when I can easily pull up the calendar on my computer or phone? I found a BBC News article that questions this very notion. The calendar’s “ubiquity within the home appears remarkably impervious to the digital age”, journalist John Kelly discusses. He agrees that this analogue time tracker has been “superseded by technology”, yet every September store shelves are stocked full of stacks of calendars of all pictures. The calendar, is a form of expression. It allows us to display our “interests, personality and identity, that the alternative [technological calendar] lacks”. The word “identity” is interesting here. Through this physical object that is completely unrelated to ourselves, we are able to express who we are. This idea of the external allowing us to express our internal selves is also present in notions of Wilderness. Many believe that through going out and exploring the wilderness, they can be moved to discovering themselves. Pierre Trudeau certainly agrees with this. Yes, it is not exactly the same, but the connection is still present. Vís a Vís discusses the nature of language, how it is impossible to use language to describe something completely. Instead, we universally agree on what the letters c-h-a-i-r mean and can recognize a chair when we see or here the word. We place value on the idea of representation. Likewise, a calendar hanging in the home represents the home and the people who live there. “I am organized”, it says. “And I like paintings by famous Canadians”. The calendar displayed is a representation of something greater than itself.

            On another note, the calendar serves a social function as well. Kelly accounts primitive calendars etched on bone, and ancient civilization using calendars to display work patterns and culture. Our modern printed calendar is just another iteration of that. I find this quote from Dr Glennie of the University of Bristol is something of interest: “It’s a very flexible way of personalizing something quite standard. It sounds trite, but the bit of wall above the phone would look empty without it.” To Dr. Glennie, we keep calendars in our homes and offices quite simply because we are used to it. It has become ingrained in our cultures to have pretty calendars. When you go out for a hike, or a canoe trip, somehow we expect to come back changed in some way. Such is the nature and prevalence of wilderness in Canadian culture, particularly here in B.C, that it’s almost like a rite of passage to go for a hike and be outdoors. When I first moved to Canada, the first thing my new friends asked me was if I wanted to go on a hike with them. It felt like an initiation – come on this hike and that is your first step towards assimilation. A home without a calendar seems empty and incomplete. Similarly, what would Canada be without wilderness?