A month ago, a world away

And this long, long month ends.  I look back at the end of last month, at a different time, a different world.  I was aware of the coming pandemic; it's in my journals, but it was still so far away.

I donned my commuter coat on a cold Saturday, because it was the last day of February, and an extra one at that, and it was my very last chance to catch the One Tree Exhibit.

This happens every two years, and I was determined to make my way to the Robert Bateman Centre (which used to be the Royal Wax Museum), because a) I missed the last one in 2018; and b) a gifted wood craftsman, who went to high school with the Resident Fan Boy and who used to be married to the friend who introduced me to the Resident Fan Boy, was listed as one of the participants. You could say he was a classic Victoria connection, the city where everyone is separated by three degrees, rather than six.

The One Tree Project works like this: an ancient tree that has to come down because it’s reached the end of its lifespan is divided amongst 80-100 artists and artisans. The tree for this year’s project was a Big-Leaf Maple, which stood for more than two centuries near Westholme in the Chemainus River Valley, on Halalt First Nation traditional land. It was on the farm of the Barclay family for a very long time.

I arrived at the Bateman Centre, and, being my first visit, went into the Gift Shop to purchase tickets, not knowing tickets were available at the door upstairs. (I was later very glad I did.)

Once upstairs, I moved quickly through the exhibit, using my usual museum strategy – noting stuff that “called” to me, so I could zoom in on them during my second round. Of course, I was mainly looking for the gifted wood craftman's contribution; having owned three of his pieces (made specifically for us), I figured I’d spot them.

After moving through twice, seeing furniture, sculptures, paper, art, jewelry, anything you could possibly make from a tree, I hadn’t located his work. Finally, I found an interactive exhibit, which showed the tree, as it had stood in the farm. You could choose a section of the tree and see the names of the artists and craftspeople associated with it. I recognized few names on the list, and the one for which I was looking wasn't there. Since he was on the initial list, and participated in 2018 (I think it was an oak tree that time), I think he must have been signed up and for whatever reason, didn’t have a submission. I knew several of the craftspeople involved this year were former students of his – including his current wife, who works with him in their woodworking business up-Island.

Guess whose work called to me? I've failed to find a picture that does it justice. It’s a medium-sized casket/jewelry box, with removable sections and divisions inside. A map embossed on the lid shimmers and undulates. Apparently the craftswoman specializes in something called “marquetry” – creating pictures using different types and colours of wood. I overheard a couple commenting on the high level of craftsmanship, and later, when I returned to the gift shop, the lady told me that particular piece sold on the first day of the exhibit, way back in November for about $1200, and that her skill-level had been the finest many experts had seen.

*Not* the cajóns I saw

Another piece, from another artisan, that intrigued me was a cajón, which is a kind of Peruvian percussion instrument. There was a smaller one in the gift shop, and when I asked about it, the lady was kind enough to find two videos on her phone for me. Apparently the drummer from Tears for Fears, if you please, made a special visit to the exhibit, and with permission, tried the cajón out.

And I hurried home into the morning sun, thinking of what I'd seen, of the beautiful box, of the woman who had made it, and how very much she looks like my friend, the gifted wood craftsman's first wife.