The Art of Emily Carr is exactly the same in her writing as in her pictures. It is the art of eliminating all but the essentials- the essentials for her, that is, the elements which contribute to her impression- and then setting these down in the starkest, most compressed form.
Emily Carr (December 13, 1871 – March 2, 1945) was a Canadian artist and writer heavily inspired by the indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast. One of the first painters in Canada to adopt a post-impressionist painting style, Carr did not receive widespread recognition for her work until later in her life. As she matured, the subject matter of her painting shifted from aboriginal themes to landscapes, and, in particular, forest scenes. As a writer, Carr was one of the earliest chroniclers of life in British Columbia. The Canadian Encyclopedia describes her as a "Canadian icon".
I have long been curious about the artist Emily Carr and recently stumbled across this little gem at the library recounting her 18 month stay in a sanatorium while at art school in England. It is filled with anecdotes and simple but charming sketches showing all of the wonderfully quirky staff, patients and wildlife that wandered in and out of the rooms. I spent a pleasurable morning savouring this book.
Found this book at a thrift store. Such a gift--as I am a big fan of journals, sketchbooks, and the British Columbian artist Emily Carr. I did not know she was in a sanatorium for a year in England, 1903, away from her family, when she was just 20. The situation is sad; the writing and observations are charming. Beautiful book.
Pause deals with an 18 month period where Carr was in a sanitarium recovering from an unspecified illness. She alludes to overwork and exhaustion, but it is not clear what kept her in hospital for such an extended stay. The writing is typically Carr - acerbic and contrary. She talks about the other patients, and the nurses, and the unusual rules that were imposed upon them. They were not allowed to talk about illness. They were expected to eat enormous amounts of food as part of their cure. There was an atmosphere of constant false gaiety that naturally drove Carr nuts. But the little vignettes of everyday life gives a strong sense of how life finds a way to continue and to settle into patterns, even when your life has been upended by illness. I guess this lesson is something that we are all facing now with the pandemic The ending is also typical Carr - abrupt and inconclusive. She left off when she was still in the san, after she took a turn for the worse, and still had six months of recovery to go. This journal is a glimpse at young Carr, who was not much different from her older eccentric self.
I didn't find the visual sketches included in this volume as interesting as the literary ones. Aside from Carr's talent as an artist, which needs no major elucidation, what is on display here is her rather wickedly mordant sense of humor, no doubt sharpened by her confinement and the physical and psychological chilliness of her surroundings. It is hard to imagine enduring 18 months in such austere conditions under the putative justification of "healthiness", and I've little doubt that Carr's caustic wit and penchant for wry observations contributed largely to her ability to endure and to resume her work and communion with her muse upon her return to Canada. It is just as well for the world that she didn't like England at all.
As a long-time fan of Emily Carr, her memoir, Pause, added depth and dimension to my knowledge of her. What happened to her as an art student in London is not completely known, but she was ailing enough from exhaustion to want to return home to Canada. Instead, her doctor prescribed extensive rest at an English sanitorium. E. Carr followed her doctor's orders and wrote this book full of her original sketches while at rest.
Emily Carr (1871-1945) gave her biographers an easy task: she eloquently chronicled her own life in her own books, in lively detail. Pause: A Sketch Book, came out after her death and is the record of an unusual period beginning in 1902. Carr, a 30-year-old student at London's Westminster School of Art, was sent by a Harley Street doctor to recover from exhaustion at the Sunhill Sanatorium in Suffolk. During her 18 months in the San, she made friends with patients and staff alike, raised baby birds in her hospital room and made many fine pencil sketches of the people, birds and animals she encountered. Carr was a very social creature and had a special way with humans and all living beings. Her little vignettes are full of memorable descriptions, including this one, of "an abnormally clerical parson, with a collar like a retaining wall."
A surprisingly charming book which I am so happy to have stumbled across in the library's collection of e-books. Whilst studying art in England, Emily Carr was sent off to an English countryside sanatorium for a year. Despite not having tuberculosis, she seemed to have no choice in the matter. Perhaps because she was too young to speak up for herself. She kept a journal, incorporating the quirks and oddities of her surroundings and fellow inmates--illustrated of course, with sketches of birds, ducks, frogs, fellow patients, and, the doctors and nurses who were her keepers. The book is short and sweet. Highly recommended.
How thankful we should be that the practice of medicine in now based on double blind prospective studies and are under constant scrutiny to be improved. I am not sure whether it was because I was annoyed with the idiotic treatment and waste of another human being (and to boot such a precious one) that I could not enjoy the book as much as I would have liked to. Loved the character sketches both in word and pencil. I have recently seen an exhibition with photos of the artist, this little book complemented itvery nicely.