The first art books I collected were Birds of the West Coast, Volumes I and II (1980) - beautiful, hard-cover, coffee-table books of paintings by J. F. Lansdowne. This B.C. based artist, who passed away in 2008, portrayed Canada's birds in exquisite detail. His books have and will always be among my favourites. Lately when I found myself hankering to add to my book collection, I did some Internet research and decided to order another of Lansdowne's books: Birds of the Northern Forest, published in 1966. Finding out-of-print books is ridiculously easy online and I had no trouble tracking down a copy.
When I opened the package and saw the jacketless, slightly tattered book inside I have to admit I felt a pang of disappointment.
However when I started leafing through the book and found Lansdowne's signature on the title page, I felt much better. It pleased me to think that the hands which had created such beautiful paintings had touched the pages of this book .
It also pleased me to learn that this was an ex-library book - a public servant of sorts which had been enjoyed and admired by many. As I practically swooned over page after page of exquisite paintings, each accompanied by a sketch or two, I knew I'd made an excellent purchase. However, it was when I settled down and began to read the descriptive text for each species of bird that I realized what gem I held in my hands.
The writer, John A. Livingston, was a Canadian broadcaster, author, staunch environmentalist, and unfortunately a dedicated smoker who succumbed to ailments related to that bad habit nearly a decade ago. While Lansdowne's paintings are, as expected, brilliant, the writing is equally gorgeous. It's richly descriptive - almost poetic! At times it's humorous, making the factual information about each bird all the more entertaining. Plus there are occasional notes about the challenges faced by bird species in the 1960s, such as the use of pesticides and poisons, over-hunting, and habitat loss - problems that are not unfamiliar to us today.
I've had the book lying around in my kitchen since it arrived, so it has yet to make its way into the studio collection. Every day I randomly open it to admire one or two paintings and read the accompanying text. It's be come part of my routine.
To give you a taste, here are a couple of my favourite passages from the book, and they just happen to be about one of my all-time favourite birds, the winter wren. The description fits so aptly it's as though I stood alongside Mr. Livingston in the woods and together we observed the bird:
"With its very stubby tail and dark plumage, and its reluctance to leave the tangled down-timber and mosses of the forest floor, it often resembles a mouse as it darts and scurries about in the security of its almost impenetrable surroundings. Were it not for its song, most times one would never see it."
"The song of the winter wren is one of the marvels of the northern forest. It has no characteristic phrase, no definable structure; it is a glorious welter of pure, crystal notes, a formless babble of tinkling expressions so attenuated as to seem endless."
The next passage taught me something new; it also made me chuckle:
"The male winter wren may build several nests, only one of which may be used. Or, if opportunity arises, he will cheerfully turn polygamist; the extra nests are available for such an eventuality."
Imagine my delight when I walked through my favourite stretch of forest the other day and heard, for the first time this year, the winter wren's signature song. A bout of mild weather must have made him feel that spring was just around the corner, but sub-zero temperatures since then will have reminded him that winter is still very much here. I will never listen to the wren's song again without thinking of Livingston's colourful description.
I've written about my love of wrens before (Something about wrens, Good things in small feathered packages). They frequently appear in my art, including the chair I painted for Critter Care Wildlife Society's fundraiser (A forest grows... in a chair). With inspiration fortified by a nearly-50-year-old book, I'm confident these marvellous little birds will continue to be featured in drawings and paintings yet to come.
This book has made me feel like I am, in my own small way, part of the legacy of creative individuals whose passion for birds, animals and the natural world lives through the art they produce and at some point leave behind.
I will treasure Birds of the Northern Forest, keep it safe while it's in my hands, and hope that it will be equally loved by its next owner. I might even share some more passages on this blog at a future date. And given there are more beloved books on my studio shelves, I suspect some time I'll be writing about the joy of another old book.
If you'd like to see and hear a winter wren in action, here's a link to a delightful Youtube video.
When I opened the package and saw the jacketless, slightly tattered book inside I have to admit I felt a pang of disappointment.
However when I started leafing through the book and found Lansdowne's signature on the title page, I felt much better. It pleased me to think that the hands which had created such beautiful paintings had touched the pages of this book .
It also pleased me to learn that this was an ex-library book - a public servant of sorts which had been enjoyed and admired by many. As I practically swooned over page after page of exquisite paintings, each accompanied by a sketch or two, I knew I'd made an excellent purchase. However, it was when I settled down and began to read the descriptive text for each species of bird that I realized what gem I held in my hands.
The writer, John A. Livingston, was a Canadian broadcaster, author, staunch environmentalist, and unfortunately a dedicated smoker who succumbed to ailments related to that bad habit nearly a decade ago. While Lansdowne's paintings are, as expected, brilliant, the writing is equally gorgeous. It's richly descriptive - almost poetic! At times it's humorous, making the factual information about each bird all the more entertaining. Plus there are occasional notes about the challenges faced by bird species in the 1960s, such as the use of pesticides and poisons, over-hunting, and habitat loss - problems that are not unfamiliar to us today.
I've had the book lying around in my kitchen since it arrived, so it has yet to make its way into the studio collection. Every day I randomly open it to admire one or two paintings and read the accompanying text. It's be come part of my routine.
To give you a taste, here are a couple of my favourite passages from the book, and they just happen to be about one of my all-time favourite birds, the winter wren. The description fits so aptly it's as though I stood alongside Mr. Livingston in the woods and together we observed the bird:
"With its very stubby tail and dark plumage, and its reluctance to leave the tangled down-timber and mosses of the forest floor, it often resembles a mouse as it darts and scurries about in the security of its almost impenetrable surroundings. Were it not for its song, most times one would never see it."
"The song of the winter wren is one of the marvels of the northern forest. It has no characteristic phrase, no definable structure; it is a glorious welter of pure, crystal notes, a formless babble of tinkling expressions so attenuated as to seem endless."
The next passage taught me something new; it also made me chuckle:
"The male winter wren may build several nests, only one of which may be used. Or, if opportunity arises, he will cheerfully turn polygamist; the extra nests are available for such an eventuality."
Imagine my delight when I walked through my favourite stretch of forest the other day and heard, for the first time this year, the winter wren's signature song. A bout of mild weather must have made him feel that spring was just around the corner, but sub-zero temperatures since then will have reminded him that winter is still very much here. I will never listen to the wren's song again without thinking of Livingston's colourful description.
I've written about my love of wrens before (Something about wrens, Good things in small feathered packages). They frequently appear in my art, including the chair I painted for Critter Care Wildlife Society's fundraiser (A forest grows... in a chair). With inspiration fortified by a nearly-50-year-old book, I'm confident these marvellous little birds will continue to be featured in drawings and paintings yet to come.
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| A recent study I made of a winter wren, painted with dyes on silk. |
This book has made me feel like I am, in my own small way, part of the legacy of creative individuals whose passion for birds, animals and the natural world lives through the art they produce and at some point leave behind.
I will treasure Birds of the Northern Forest, keep it safe while it's in my hands, and hope that it will be equally loved by its next owner. I might even share some more passages on this blog at a future date. And given there are more beloved books on my studio shelves, I suspect some time I'll be writing about the joy of another old book.
If you'd like to see and hear a winter wren in action, here's a link to a delightful Youtube video.
Beautiful post! Your new (old) book is a treasure. How lovely about the winter wren, and I'm thinking I've heard them on walks with you in CV Park…..
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