Sanctum - Twentieth Anniversary

sanctum    n.        1. a holy place

                                         2. a private room

 (Latin, neuter of "sanctus" holy)

This body of work was created twenty years ago,

and is now part of the Art Gallery of Peterborough's 

Permanent Collection.

The installation is comprised of eleven boxes, 12" x 12" x 5". 

Each box contains, on the front, a mixed-media portrait, (shown left), of one of the members of a girls field hockey team, c.1908,

 Jersey, Channel Islands.

 

The boxes open to reveal an installation in the interior of the box, (shown right).

Thanks for viewing!

Anne Renouf

*

'empathize'

                                                                                'love'

 

                                                                                       

                                                                                'share'

                                                                                   'listen'

           

                                                                                     

                                                                                 'seek'

                                                                             'confirm'

 

                                                                               'forgive'

                                                                             

                                                                             'initiate'

                                                                              'commit'

                                                                                   

                                                                              'honour'

                                                                                   

                                                                           'celebrate'

*

TBT - Two Years Ago...

 

🌈 On a Saturday morning two years ago, (perhaps for the fourth or fifth time in my life), this senior drove to the Peterborough Public Library, to help to remind people of the importance of acceptance.

It is always comforting to see that I am not alone in this. I immediately met a friend, (also a senior), and we spent the rest of our time holding each end of a 'Pride' banner. There were dozens of pro-library folks in attendance, brightly robed in rainbow colours, all there to cheer on Betty Baker, our local story-time performer.

I say "cheer on", but due to the group of protesters assembled, at times it felt more like we were there to create a protective barrier.

I was definitely one of the oldest there, old enough (I mused) to remember a much more tolerant and compassionate acceptance of all gender stripes, when I was Betty Baker's age, (fifty years ago), when 'Drag' conjured up images of Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in 'Some Like It Hot' - good fun and clever performances.

What happened?

At the library, this time, things were a lot less tolerant. We could feel an uneasiness, a volatility, as the protesters moved among the supporters, and conversations became heated. Several times the police, who usually watch from a distance, moved in to defuse the pushing and shoving.

We library supporters were called unpleasant things. The angry teenager that I spoke to appeared to just want to be, well, angry. We heard "leave the kids alone", "drag shows are not for kids", "radical gender ideology is a lie", "boys are boys and girls are girls", "you should be ashamed of yourselves", and repeatedly, references to grooming and child abuse. The protesters' messages, perpetuating dangerous myths and disinformation, made it all feel a bit unsafe. And if it felt unsafe to these Pride-flag-waving seniors, what about members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community - drag performers, trans youth, gay couples?

Here are the facts:

•Drag Story Time is for families with small children.

•The books that Betty reads have themes of friendship, emotions, differences, inclusion, respect, kindness.

•Betty Baker is a kind, soft-spoken, beautiful human being.

So, I will go again and again and again, if needed. I'll wear the t-shirt and wave the flag, because I want to celebrate a diverse and inclusive Peterborough, where differences are respected, where kindness rules, and where kids are allowed to hear stories that reflect that.

Creatures We've Had In Our House

 

CREATURES

WE'VE

HAD 

IN

OUR

HOUSE

⬇

Living for fifteen years in an energy efficient home 
overlooking a wetland,
(in Otonabee-South Monaghan Township, 
Peterborough County, Ontario), 
we are definitely what you would call 
'off the beaten track'. 
What we love most about living here is the wetland 
and woodland wildlife, 
seen almost daily.
Occasionally, some of these make it into the house.
Here is my list...(so far):

HUMANS - many

Mostly invited, these are humans other than 
the two of us who inhabit this space. 
Family get-togethers, dinner parties, Cinq-à-Sept, 
Studio Tour visitors, Art Days, 
drop-ins saying hello, 
those asking advice, giving advise, 
coming for a walk in the woods, a workshop, 
a cup of tea, a beer -
all fairly regular events.

DOGS - 5+

Chester, our forever dog, 
Best friend Fido, 
Granddog Burley,
Rex and Toby (regulars),
and perhaps a dozen other dog visitors, (not all at once).

 CATS – 4

Larry the Cat, long-time resident,  
Gertie, who died at 22, known as ‘The Biting Cat' by the grandhumans, 
Grandcat Milo, 
and one feral cat, a longtime nocturnal visitor, via cat-flap.

 
BABY BUNNIES - 1

Brought in, very much alive, by Larry the Cat.

BIRDS - 3

Wild birds, each time, when the door was inadvertently left open. 

Last October, a chickadee spent an hour in our rafters, 

trying to find a way out of our clerestory windows. 

Her feet eventually, (and embarrassingly), 

became entangled in cobwebs, and I was able to climb a ladder 

and scoop her up, remove the tangle of webs, 

and let her go. Outdoors.

Happy ending.

TURTLES - 1 

A snapper, right up to the threshold, but not I suppose, technically, in.

RACCOONS - 1 

Caught dragging a bag of birdseed to the cat-flap in the middle of the night.

MICE – lots

INSECTS - 1,000s

A note on insects…
I'm wondering if anyone else has had a pet wasp.
Yes, a wasp.
We once had a rather dopey, partially hibernating (queen?) wasp living in our house through the winter. We occasionally placed small saucers of water or (un)frozen blueberries or blueberry juice near her, and she (we think) nearly overdosed, judging by the amount of time she spent perched on a blueberry.
Her life ended tragically that March. 
After biting the hand that feeds her, (mine, actually my leg), contrary to popular opinion, she did not die, at least not right away, living for about another week.
Rest in peace, Willa. 

TREE FROGS – 4

The first one hopped in during a Studio Tour... a bit of a surprise for him.
The remaining three, (several years later), hopped in on a warm, wet late summer night, and hopped out again (though one took some finding), the following morning.

RED SQUIRRELS - 1 

Ran in, sat up, looked around, ran out, all in about 3.5 seconds.

SPIDERS – Oh, yes. 

(They get a category of their own.)
Specifically, in fact almost exclusively, Pholcidae, (daddy-long-legs).
We have a soft spot around here for daddy-long-legs, which goes back to our years living in a little cabin in the woods, where we were plagued with mosquitoes from May to August, and loved that daddy-long-legs are purported
to eat them, or suck the juices out of them, or otherwise reduce their numbers. 
Not all of the humans who frequent our home are fans though. 
Our number three grandhuman once exited the bathroom proclaiming,
“I counted eight spiders in there.”     

                                      
I like them.                             
They are sort of the ‘Fred Astaires’ of the arachnid world - graceful, coordinated, quick. 
In typical Canadian fashion, I have apologized to one for inadvertently brushing it aside. 
They have great resilience. They can look crumpled and dead, and on closer inspection, suddenly unfold themselves and stride away.     
All of that, and of course, the mosquito thing.    

  
So they stay.
 
‘Creatures We’ve Had In Our House’ can be regularly updated, (the beauty of lists), depending on who comes in. 

(Latest update: May 2025)
I might add that we’ve had a wide variety of creature visitors who have peered in, scrambled over, and crashed into, while not actually entering the house. 
Perhaps a list for another day, but these include ducks, geese, turkeys, crows, doves, one hawk, (RIP), and last Fall a small herd of teenage calves, (brown, white and cheeky-looking), who made it as close to the house as the patio, two metres from the door. Maybe if they ever show up again, we’ll leave the door open and see what happens…

- Anne Renouf

 
 
 

 

'Weather Diary' at Nineteen

Weather Diary 

Nineteen years ago, in the Spring of 2006,

I had the opportunity to travel to 

Ocracoke Island off the coast of North Carolina,

 to live and work at my art.

(This ‘Artist Residency’ was actually a 

50th birthday gift from my husband Doug Brown, 

the only one who knew of my desire to become a 

hermit in order to produce some new work.)

I wanted to focus on drawing, using materials I

 hadn't used in a while -

primarily oil pastels, watercolour pencils, chalks and

 graphite.

I set off on my month-long pilgrimage with these 

materials and lots of drawing surfaces.

It is a seventeen hour drive from Peterborough 

Ontario to Ocracoke NC.

 I was to live in a cottage, (sight unseen), in 

Ocracoke Village,

 just me and our three-year-old black lab, Chester.

It wasn't long before I fell into the rhythm of island life. 

I wanted solitude so as to work without distraction. 

Yes, I had that.

And I wanted the sea.

Whatever was happening with regard to my artwork

 and the weather, 

each day included a long ramble on the glorious 

Ocracoke Island beach, the wide open 

Atlantic-facing expanse of bliss. 

This daily beach walk led to the creation of a 

series of works entitled 'Weather Diary', 

one-a-day drawings infused by the sea, sand, 

dunes and wild moody skies - the elements -

 that found their way into me.

You can view the art,

and read about my 'Weather Diary' pilgrimage

 here:

 annerenouf.blogspot.ca

 

A 'Good King Wenceslas' Walk-in-the-Woods

Sunday January 26, 2025

A rather ‘Good King Wenceslas’ 

trudge this morning. 

 

A bit of ‘bitter weather’ for sure, 

being winter in Canada. 

Not ‘on The Feast of Stephen’, but the feast of St Paula Romana , 

according to my book of saints, 

(January 26, 347-404).

The snow, ‘deep and crisp and even’, 

and a good six or eight inches of it in the woods. 

And we were, in a sense, ‘gathering winter fuel’, 

as we scouted out a number of standing dead elms, 

and pocketed some birchbark. 

And we certainly walked ‘where the snow lay dinted’ 

as we followed the four-wheeler tracks from a few days ago.

And, 

we did ‘find blessing‘...

Sunday morning Angel Tree.

Canoe

                           

2024 was the year of the canoe in these parts.

It began as an idea for a sixteenth birthday gift for number-one-grandson Jack, and idea leapt into action in the middle of the summer, roughly four months before the big day.

Let me just say, right off the bat, that this was all Doug. 

He did insist, (repeatedly), that we would build it together, but from the downing of cedars in our woods, running them through the sawmill, cutting them into strips, routing many many sixteen-foot-long strips, building the strong-back, etc. etc., it was all Doug. 

I suppose I was useful in the conceptual process and the encouragement department. Occasionally I was asked to read a passage from the manual to "see what I thought". And in the later stages, there were a number of times when four hands were needed, (though these are undocumented as I was also official photographer).

I would describe the process as slow and methodical, but also deeply satisfying. 

Meditative. Spiritual.

Repetitive, rhythmic and quiet, working at the edge of the woods with the chickadees and red squirrels, sometimes within arms reach, going about, as they do, the business of surviving.

I thought, more than once, that it was strangely akin to the process of art-making. 

Akin to it, not only creatively but also in timeline, if I'm thinking of one of my large works. 

As most of my works on canvas include canoe imagery, this gave me an odd sensation. 

This canoe was real.

Tangible.

Different, yes, yet oddly similar, even as far as using many of the same materials - wood, cloth, varnish.

On a cold and windy late November morning, we drove a few miles east to the Ouse River, to give her a test run.  She behaved as she should - light, balanced, nice to handle - the icy waters of the Ouse staying firmly, wonderfully, thankfully outside of the canoe.

It is a thing of beauty, this treasure. 

Built with Doug's own two (and occasionally four) hands, it has now been handed on to Jack.

With love.

Anne Renouf

          

D'où Viens-tu Bergère

 

"D'où viens-tu bergère?"

Where are you from?  Where are you going?

This lovely old nativity scene came with my parents from the U.K. 

when they immigrated to Canada in 1951,

with my two eldest brothers, 

Andrew, 3 and Simon 1.

It was constructed by the daughter of their dear friends and neighbours Godfrey and Hildegard Koenig,

a young teenager named Hildy.

I don't know enough about how or when the Koenigs arrived in the U.K.

except that they were Austrian, and given the timing, I imagine that they came just before or during the Second World War.

The crèche is comprised of 

paper figures mounted onto wooden shapes cut with a jigsaw. It would have been a lot of fiddly work.

Fiddly work that has held up for some time, at least most of it. A few of the minor characters have been lost along the way. It has moved a fair distance.

I have calculated that it has been assembled by someone in my family for

seventy-five Christmases, 

and has travelled from:

Taplow, England

to 

Toronto, Ontario

to

 Auckland, New Zealand

to

Don Mills, Ontario

to 

Peterborough County, Ontario.

"Where do you come from, shepherdess, where do you come from? 
I come from the stable, I have just been walking there;
I have seen a miracle happen this evening."

❆

D'où Viens-tu Bergère

D’où viens-tu, bergère, d’où viens-tu? (bis) —Je viens de l’étable, de m’y promener; J’ai vu un miracle ce soir arriver.	Where do you come from, shepherdess, where do you come from? (twice) —I come from the stable, I have just been walking there; I have seen a miracle happen this evening.
Qu’as-tu vu, bergère, qu’as-tu vu? (bis) —J’ai vu dans la crèche un petit enfant Sur la paille fraîche mis bien tendrement.	What did you see, shepherdess, what did you see? —I saw in the manger a little child Placed very tenderly on the fresh straw.
Rien de plus, bergère, rien de plus? (bis) —Saint Joseph, son père, Saint Jean, son parrain, Saint’-Marie sa mère, qui l’aime si bien.	Nothing more, shepherdess, nothing more? —St Joseph, his father, St John, his godfather, St Mary his mother, who loves him so well.
Rien de plus, bergère, rien de plus? (bis) —´Y a le bœuf et l’âne qui sont par devant Et de leur haleine réchauffent l’enfant.	Nothing more, shepherdess, nothing more? —There’s the ox and the ass who are in front And who warm the child with their breath.
Rien de plus, bergère, rien de plus? (bis) —´Y a trois petits anges descendus du ciel, Chantant les louanges du Père éternel. *traditional French Carol	Nothing more, shepherdess, nothing more? —There are three little angels come down from heaven, Singing the praises of the eternal Father.