2017.03.09

Growing Pains by Emily Carr

“The paradox is unsettling: so much of Carr’s struggle seemed to be in the throwing off the dictates of the conservative and patriarchal society into which she was born; so much of her mature accomplishment involved the advice and encouragement of men” Robin Laurence, intro (3)

“often powered by vehement and unusual verbs” Robin Laurence, intro (4)

“Ah,” he would say, “this one should have been a boy.” (24)

“I wanted to draw a dog. I sat beside Carlow’s kennel and stared at him for a long time. Then I took a charred stick from the grate, split open a large brown paper sack and drew a dog on the sack.” (29)

“As yet I had not considered what was underneath surfaces not had I considered the inside of myself.” (103)

“Artists from the Old World said our West was crude, unpaintable. Its bigness angered; its vastness and wild spaces terrified them.” (106)

“How motherly! was my impression. The garish, regal chromosome on Mrs. Mitchell’s walls had been Queens only. This kindly old lady in a black bonnet was woman as as Queen.” (167)

“She neither looked at nor asked about my work during the whole two months of her visit. It was then that I made myself into an envelope into which I could thrust my work deep, lick the flap, seal it from everybody.” (175)

“First we pretended that Epping Forest was our Canadian woods, but it was no good, there was not one bit of similarity. We gave up and sipped England’s sweetness happily. Here were trees venerable, huge and grand, but tamed. All Englands things were tame, self-satisfied, smug and meek—even the deer that came right up to us in the forest, smelled our clothes. There was no turmoil of undergrowth swirling round the boles of trees. The forest was almost like a garden—no brambles, no thorns, nothing to stumble over, no rotten stumps, no fallen branches, all mellow to look at, melodious to hear, every kind of bird, all singing, no awed hush, no vast echoes, just beautiful, smiling woods, not solemn, solemn, solemn like our forests. This exquisite, enchanting gentleness was perfect for one day, but not for always—we were Canadians.” (179)