FOLKLIFE Volume 3 by folklifemag

$18.99 US/CAN - £12 UK FOLKLIFEMAG.CA

The pages of FOLKLIFE have gone live for the summer.

Island-Made Art Books Plants Coffee Eats Vibes #4-126 Upper Ganges Road, Salt Spring Island

folklifemag.ca 250-268-1000

We lose our souls if we lose the experience of the forest, the butterflies, the songs of the birds, if we can’t see the stars at night. —Thomas Berry

PHOTO BY STEPHANIE ARTUSO

VOLUME 03 – RESTLESS DREAMERS info@folklifemag.ca FOLKLIFEMAG.CA Alina Cerminara Creator + Publisher Patrick Belanger Co-Creator + Art Director Charles Hart Editor Margy Gilmour Editor Claire Majors Editor Chelsea Newcombe Distribution Contributing Editors

Mary Ann Richards and Kristen Bounds

Contributing Writers

Emily Anderson, Brendalee Astells, Julie Babiy, Laura Busheikin, Alina Cerminara, Miguel Cervantes, Rachelle Chinnery, Peter Cook, Sam Broome, Matt Ens, Siobhan Francis, Cyrus Galea, Stasia Garraway, Mattew Gauldie, Joanne Green, Charles Hart, Eli Hason, Kerry Johnson, Sandika Joy, Jessica Kirkwood, Amanda Lemay, Peter Levitt, Sandra Louis, Emily Lycopolus, Claire Majors, Kathy McIntyre, Ocean Mussack, Bree Nicholl, Sheila Norgate, Kate Ortwein, Briony Penn, Judith Plant, Emma Scheurwater, Jonathan Smith, Bishop Svensson, Vasalisa Wall, Lee Weir, Misty and Jamie Whittaker, Susan Yates, Sonja Zupanec. All unnamed features prepared by FOLKLIFE

Contributing Photographers

Financials Special thanks to:

Publishing Postmaster

DL Acken, Jennifer Armstrong, Stephanie Artuso, Christopher Babcock, Ko Backpacko, Shayla Braun, George Braun Jr., Amber Briglio, Maggie Jane Cech, Miguel Cervantes, Tegan Clark, Kevin Friesen, Dilyara Garifullina, Stasia Garraway, Nadie Gelata, Ross Gray, Clayton Harrison, Charles Hart, Daniel Holmes, Lina Jokubaityte, Sandika Joy, Shannon Kay, Jonathan Lidbeck, Danielle Lindenlaub, Brette Little, Rachelle Lynn, Debbie Marshall, R. Jeanette Martin, Mike McInnes, Natham, Dylan Phillips, Metta Rose, Luke Southern, Ashley Tubbs, Thirza Voysey, Penny White, Misty Whittaker, Syd Woodward Office Pro - Joan Harrison Mary Ann Richards, Charles Hart, Joan Harrison, Shannon Kay, Lina Jokubaityte, Matt Ens, Claire Majors, Amanda Lemay, Siobhan Francis, Doug Galloway, Brendalee Astells, Sue Custance, Thirza Voysey, Dirk Huysman, Tony Grove, Stasia Garraway, Linda Dzus, David Morton, Jean-Francois Bélanger-Gagnon, Misty Whittaker, Peter Cook, Karen Phillips, Jordan Lidster, Nadie Gelata, Michelle Benjamin, Adrian Huysman, Kristen Bounds, Gary Holdgrafer FOLKLIFE (ISSN # 2563-0808 Print, 2563-0814 Digital) is published semiannually. Subscriptions are $34/year. Please send address changes to: FOLKLIFE 1718 Tashtego Crescent Gabriola Island, BC Canada V0R1X5 Published by FOLKLIFE Magazine on Gabriola Island, British Columbia, Canada. Printed in Canada from forests that are responsibly managed, socially beneficial, environmentally conscious, and economically viable. Distributed by Disticor Magazines, MMS, and Small Changes.

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info@folklifemag.ca

In loving memory of ‘non-hugger’ Chris Straw, and Marc Doré. You were our friends. You made the island.

What are you restless for? "Informed choices, animal advocacy, body positivity, sun, love, balance, empathy, and compassion." Alina Cerminara Creator + Publisher

"The frog sounds in our pond. It’s the announcement of the beginning of warmer and sunny days." Patrick Belanger Co-Creator + Art Director

"Spontaneity, family gatherings, road trips, roses in bloom." Charles Hart Editor

"I'm restless to see friends, and can't wait to resume our early morning coffee sessions." Margy Gilmour Editor

"Longer days filled with long-overdue reunions, and some travelling on the horizon." Chelsea Newcombe Distribution Manager

"Decolonization, climate justice, and live music." Claire Majors Editor

All rights reserved ©. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the publisher, except non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publishers at the addresses above. All views expressed in FOLKLIFE are those of the respective contributors and not necessarily shared by the company or staff.

PHOTO BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

COVER PHOTO BY SYD WOODWARD FEATURING DAVE SPIRIT WOLF BODALY

folklifemag.ca FOLKLIFE is a semi-annual print publication inspired by those who live close to the earth, with intention, and creativity. Evoking fine craftership with its minimalist design, matte aesthetic, poetic editorial, and vibrant photography, FOLKLIFE honours art and agriculture, business and creativity, food and farming, dwellings and nature of those who live on the Gulf Islands throughout the Salish Sea. Each issue offers engaging interviews, stories, photographs, recipes, and artwork. Celebrating life crafted as an art form, FOLKLIFE seeks to introduce and connect those who live simply and sustainably.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

The Salish Sea and the islands it encompasses are the traditional, unceded territory of the Coast Salish Peoples of Cowichan, Penelakut, Hwlitsum, BOKEĆEN, Halalt, Homalco, K’ómok, Klahoose, Lyackson, MÁLEXEt, Qualicum, Snuneymuxw, Stz’uminus, Tsawout, CUAN of the WSANEC People, TEKTEKSEN, STA,UTW, SKEUWEWC, and Tla’amin since time immemorial.

PHOTO BY @SYDWOODWARD_ OF @NIAMH.CREATION, FEATURING SAFIYA CARROLL LABELLE

MARCHLIGHT STUDIO

Transforming salvaged wood into hand-turned vessels with wood-burned drawings. Watercolour prints. Small sculptures. Greeting cards. Creating beauty and magic out of the unexpected, artists Mark Huisman and Claire Frances Muir are the dynamic team behind Marchlight Studio on Gabriola Island, BC. Mark cuts, shapes, and turns the plates, bowls, and boards. Claire finishes the works of art with freehand wood-burned drawings. Discover the creative magic inspired by Canada’s West Coast.

marchlight.com

NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

THE STUFF OF WHICH

DREAMS ARE MADE It's early morning, the house is still. I’m curled

I invite you to close yours too, dear reader, wherever

up under two duvets, with myriad stuff piled on

you are right now. Perhaps the kids have just fallen

one corner of the bed, including a mass of clothes

asleep. Perhaps you’ve got the day off. Perhaps

to go through and perhaps be rid of. The dog

you’re enjoying a cup of tea, lounging in bed with

sprawls in the middle, somehow hogging space

a partner, or musing alone. Or maybe you’re on the

with her tiny body. She responds with her usual

go. Reading on the train or the bus, sitting in the

burst of energy when she sees my eyes opening.

garden or the coffee shop.

I do my best to soothe her, for my mornings are for slowness, for emerging gradually out of dark

Stop for a minute. Go on, close your eyes. Focus hard

dreams and into daydreams.

enough and the blackness behind your lids will begin to shimmer, an aurora borealis coming alive

Like the sun nestled behind the clouds, I take

with inky hues that dance in space and illuminate

my time to surface. Roll over, slide deeper into

the ether. Let this luminescence carry you beyond

the pillows. The timbers of the house seem to

this daily space, along shores both near and far. In

be slumbering, too, and the gentle peace of the

such flights of fancy, imagination is freed to roam

moment is something to cherish. Breathe in. The

as if in another's shoes.

air is cool and crisp—no fire in the woodstove yet. No kindling crackling to signal action and light the way. So I breathe out and sink deeper under the covers, closing my eyes.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY STASIA GARRAWAY

NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER /

What does the footfall of your dreams sound like?

Now open your eyes and within these pages, beyond imagining, hear from folk living out their

Like boots in berms of soil,

dreams in the tangible world.

sidestepping the life burgeoning below Turn the pages and you move with them. They Slippers shuffling over the hardwood of a studio

pose for you. Standing tall and strong, adopting wide stances in the spaces they’ve created. Or if not

Bare feet skipping in a flower garden

standing, sitting in a well-worn chair, legs crossed, arms folded. Resolute.

The sloshing of galoshes searching along the shoreline

Step inside and be transported to islands of intrigue and inspiration. Fed by ocean, forest, farm, and sky,

The stomping of heavy soles on a dirty barn floor

this is a world in which limits have been swept aside and dreams have taken root.

Or perhaps there is no sound at all—just the silence of feet up in the air after a long day’s work

Here, the land grows lighter and the full spectrum of colour re-emerges after so much darkness. We’ve

In dreams, your feet can take you anywhere. Allow

survived another winter and finally have a moment

you to float from one domain to the next, passing

to stop and smell the flowers. Be here, now. You can

through psychic realms of yearning.

be a seafarer, a medicine maker, a gardener, or a bubble maker, creating new and colourful worlds. C’mon, take your restless dreamer out for a stroll, and say hello to your new shoes.

ALINA CERMINARA, FOLKLIFE CREATOR & PUBLISHER

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

In this issue

Artistic Intentions

Back to the Land

HER MANDALA STONES WITH ELSPETH MCLEAN

PURPLE CAMAS, WHITE RACCOONS, AND SPIRITUAL PORTALS OF RENEWAL WITH DAVE SPIRIT WOLF BODALY

50 THE INNER SANCTUM

Six Creators Offer a Peek Behind Closed Doors

46 LEARNING TO LIVE OFF GRID BY SANDIKA JOY

MAKING PAINT WITH BRENDALEE ASTELLS

THE HANDS THAT PLANTED THE OLIVE TREES

WITH SHERI AND GEORGE BRAUN

A RECIPE FOR PEACH TREE PAINT BY BRENDALEE ASTELLS

88 (FARM) STAND YOUR GROUND BY JULIE BABIY, MISTY AND JAMIE WHITTAKER, LEA WEIR, LAURA BUSHEIKIN, EMILY ANDERSON, AND SAM CROOME

94 PETALS WITH PURPOSE BY SONJA ZUPANEC

118 DEALING WITH YOUR OWN CRAP Notes from an Intentional Community BY LAURA BUSHEIKIN

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTOS BY TEGAN CLARK (ABOVE), R. JEANETTE MARTIN (BELOW)

Insight

Business

THE BEACH

21 DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY'D LOVE TO START

BY AMANDA LEMAY

66 NIGHTHAWKS IN MOURNING

Nourishment

BY BRIONY PENN

70 ORCA WEDDING

106

BY PETER LEVITT

HOW TO MIX FOUR GARDEN-CHARGED COCKTAILS

100

BY EMILY LYCOPOLUS AND DL ACKEN

LIVING IN THE PINK WITH SHARMARAY GOLDMAN

112

126

A FRESH TAKE ON THE SIMPLE WHITE CAKE

THE BUBBLE MAN

BY MISTY WHITTAKER

BY ALINA CERMINARA

106

Notes from the Frontier

123

THE STUFF OF WHICH DREAMS ARE MADE

THE RUSH HOUR

Note From the Publisher

BY JUDITH PLANT

BY ALINA CERMINARA

124

WHAT ARE YOU RESTLESS FOR?

FOLKLIFE CONNECT

Conversation at a FOLKLIFE Photoshoot BY PETER COOK

116 PRODUCTS WE LOVE

PHOTO BY DL ACKEN

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

FOLKLIFE CONNECT Readers Respond

“What a brilliant and beautiful issue. I enjoyed your editor’s note on surviving the dark side. It brought me inspiration to proceed with those 140 sleeps until longer days with hope and renewed vigour. Your magazine is a beacon of light and a treasure to look at with daily perspectives on other lives. It brings me a greater sense of community which makes us all less lonely in this topsy-turvy world. ANNE SULLIVAN, PENDER ISLAND

“FOLKLIFE and the Fox Tarot have inspired me to add tarot cards to my tool box for managing mental health. I'm excited to get learning and eventually work my way up to one of her beautiful decks.” CAROLINE ROACH, NANAIMO

“Privileged to have come across FOLKLIFE magazine while shooting in Vancouver. The first volume sent me to Galiano Island where I stayed for a week, hiked every day, had dinner at Pilgrimme Restaurant, and even ordered dinner plates from Ilana Fonariov.” BROOKE SMITH, LOS ANGELES

“I really liked that end part of last issue: the people of other islands and how to take make it through the darkness. And great recipes! I appreciate that they were both pretty good to go for all kinds of diets too—no grain, and more. Thank you!” CARLY TRE, TEXADA ISLAND

PHOTO BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

FOLKLIFE CONNECT /

“I’ve never had a magazine subscription. You folks are popping cherries! This publication speaks so much of what I value and cherish. Thank you for creating this piece of art.” EMILY JENKINS, POWELL RIVER

“WOW. I am speechless. I received the second edition of your magazine for Yule, and I couldn’t wait to tell you how much I love it. It’s not just a magazine, it’s an experience. I was gifted this magazine because there is an article in it about my favourite poster artist, Bob Masse. I am not a magazine fan, but this one is in a league of its own. If I can describe it, it would be like sitting around a crackling bonfire in the mountains with the Northmen Guild, swapping trade secrets on everything handmade while a storyteller speaks quietly over an acoustic guitar with wolves howling in the background. I NEVER want to miss an edition for the rest of my life.” KERRI JEROME, LONDON

“In the mail today I got what I’m gonna call the gift of Christmas: an invitation to sit and read and as you say, slow the folk down. The beauty starts with the eyes and soon can be found at the fingertips. Every aspect of this publication is a delight so far and the bit you can’t touch . . . the commitment to take the time to read luxuriously, when that always seems so far away.” NATALIE O’TOOLE, EDMONTON

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! My surprise package containing FOLKLIFE #2 was quietly left at my front door this AM. Beautiful publication at the right time. Very much enjoyed this latest issue’s writing featuring many talented individuals from our Salish Sea communities.” CARL YOKOTA, GABRIOLA ISLAND

“For me it is gratifying to know that there are others who see these islands as something so precious and to be respected, just as the First Nations Peoples respect the land and the wildlife that live here. I have a set of Taylor’s Tarot cards (The Fox Tarot), so it was a good reminder to consult them more often. I have several pieces of eclectic unique pottery from the Mad Mudslinger. My favourite artist is Tammy Hudgeon because of her generous spirit and her colourful meaningful uplifting glass and paintings. I choose an article a day to read with my coffee. I do not want to get to the end too soon, but I can read it again . . . I loved the personal touch of your little note tucked away inside the mag and the paper bag the mag came in will be used in my journal. You have created a wonderful magazine: the stories, the photography, and the colours all create a very convincing journey to the slower style of life. Thank you for your vision.” LIZ CIOCEA, GABRIOLA ISLAND

NEW SOCIETY PUBLISHERS

Savouring the benefits of a slower pace This past year has been a challenge on a variety of levels. But it also brought lessons of community building, resilience, self-sufficiency, food security, and equity and diversity to the forefront. New Society Publishers remains committed to bringing you books that offer Positive Solutions from Troubled Times. Carbon Neutral • B Corp (™) • Employee Shareholders 100% Post Consumer Recycled paper • Guide to Responsible Digital Reading

newsociety.com

TAMMY HUDGEON STUDIO

Glittery glass art, richly layered mixed media paintings, larger-than-life sculptures—welcome to the magical world of Tammy Hudgeon Studio. Spirited artist, author, and teacher, Tammy brings her wild and creative imaginings to life. Taking participants on this journey, Tammy also offers soul-nourishing online experiences where she lovingly guides you into deeper self-expression and onward to Creative Sovereignty.

tammyhudgeon.com

Beach THE

AN ODE TO IMPERMANENCE

BY AMANDA LEMAY

Every day I visit the same beach. Seeking solace in the rhythm of the waves, I set out on my pilgrimage. Down a path strewn with seashells and shards of cobalt-glazed pottery, through a passage shrouded by cedars, I emerge onto the road, marvelling at the houses that line it. No two the same. Who occupies these dwellings? What are their stories?

There’s the cozy tiny house with floorto-ceiling books beckoning through the window. The bungalow whose expansive yard is adorned with dozens of wind chimes and myriad sculptures. A new curio seems to appear daily, though it’s more likely that particular item had simply escaped my notice before. Rounding the bend, I'm greeted by an expressive gnome holding court on an aging bathtub. He’s not the only joyful character I can expect to encounter. More often than not, I run into the inhabitants of these eclectic homes and their furry companions. I’ve yet to pass a soul on this route who has not offered

Steep cliffs of moss-carpeted rock and

at least a smile and a wave if not a hearty hello

ambitious conifers at odd angles tower above

and some cheery conversation.

as the road winds down towards sea level. Half-dressed arbutus trees lean seductively

These small glimmers of insight into the

overhead. Their curvaceous trunks reveal

denizens of the island only amplify my

smooth, youthful bark where cinnamon-tone

curiosity. I play a speculative game of match

layers are peeling away.

the resident to the abode. Before the briny scent of ocean reaches my nose, my heart has

Grabbing hold of a rickety rail, I pick my

already been lifted by the magic of this island

way down makeshift steps and arrive at my

and its people.

destination.

PHOTOS BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE BEACH /

Every day I visit the same beach. Only

surroundings, my understanding deepens.

somehow, it’s not. It has transformed.

My perception broadens. I arrive with fresh eyes.

The tide has delivered a fresh batch of driftwood, thrusting the landscape into an

Yesterday that emerald seaweed was nothing

irreplicable configuration. A puzzle of a billion

more than colourful debris. Today, thanks

pieces, with barnacle-crusted pebbles and

to wisdom imparted by a friend, I know its

oyster shells decorating the sand in ever-

potential for a delicious lunch, harvestable

evolving patterns. Some days I watch a violent

any time, but best in spring. Such seemingly

attack of waves battering the logs that guard

insignificant bits of knowledge exert their

the shore. Rhythmic and persistent, the

influence over time.

incoming tide always prevails. Other days I'm witness to a subtle but steady retreat.

But sometimes, there are seismic shifts. A letting go of firmly held beliefs following

Will it be the eagles that soar overhead today?

Or the impossibly large heron? Will the moth-

A realization that sparks an evaluation of

particularly

enlightening

sized hummingbirds thrum in the bushes?

previously

Each time I hope to glimpse the head of an

impossible-to-predict event that diverts me

otter cutting a wake in the distance. Even the

from my charted course.

unconsidered

conversation.

possibilities.

massive stones, their curious dimples carved by the salty fingers of the sea, develop new

Every day I visit the same beach. But it’s never

motifs over time.

the same beach and I am never the same person.

And much like the action of water softening stone, the experiences of each day shape me. As I learn more about myself and my

"Rhythmic and persistent, the incoming tide always prevails."

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY AMANDA LEMAY

MOONSHINE MAMA’S

Mama Knows Best In 2011, our Founder Mel was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer. After extensively researching natural ways to reduce inflammation and boost her immune system, Mel began mixing her own turmeric-based elixirs. Now 7 years later, Mel is living proof of the medicinal, healing properties her products hold. Family-owned and operated on Salt Spring Island, Moonshine Mama's is the fastest way to feeling your best.

moonshinemamas.ca

HER MANDALA

STONES WITH ELSPETH MCLEAN

A bright, woodsy house gleams beneath

Under a veil of blonde hair and a flowing

a canopy of trees. On one side of the

ruby dress, Elspeth coos of her origins

property is a small vegetable garden; on

in a syrupy accent blown in from the

the other, a small boy—a neighbour’s

west coast of Australia—the place that

child peeking through windows, play

spawned her love for the beauty of the

sword at the ready. Inside the funky

natural world. “In my mind, I’m always

A-frame is a big yet cozy space filled

playing with colours,” she says, as we

with

light,

settle in. “Drawing here and there.

much like Elspeth McLean herself, and

warmth,

rainbows,

and

Rearranging the look of the bookshelf.

her husband Adam Dobres.

just

love

playing—exploring

new

combinations. How does this make me This charming couple, a talented painter

feel? How does that make me feel?”

and an expert musician, offer us tea and locally made energy balls. We’re

Elspeth’s attraction to certain colour

sandwiched between their two creative

palettes goes through phases, although

spaces—the basement recording studio

she continually returns to turquoise for

and the loft painting space. Lured by the

its allusions to Perth's Indian Ocean. “At

wind’s whisperings of a colourful cove,

the moment, inspired by my Morocco

we’re here to meet the artist who creates

trip, I love orange, yellow, and turquoise

dazzling mandala stones.

blue together. Before that, it was pink with turquoise. And before that, it was all purple with blue,” she says. “I go through these colour stories—have a

"Express and celebrate the colours of your soul."

little relationship with them for a while, and then wonder what will be next. Sometimes the colours find me, but everywhere I go certain combinations are always together." At this point, besieged by many colours, Elspeth’s studio looks like the site of an erupted rainbow. The painted stones originated as an offshoot of Elspeth’s talent for creating bright, nature-inspired drawings and paintings. From using the stippling technique in pen and ink to creating paintings of trees and animals à la Pointillism,

Elspeth

has

evolved

embrace what she calls Dotillism. In this practice, she uses a mix of vibrant dots

decorate

perfectly

round

stones, imbuing each art rock with the meditative qualities of a mandala.

PHOTOS BY TEGAN CLARK, AMBER BRIGLIO (INSET)

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

“My mandala stones take one day—I see a group of flowers growing together and I can go and paint them, see an end right away, and move on. Not like my paintings, which can take weeks. It’s just so satisfying to create the dots, mix the right paint and get it the right consistency,” she says. “It’s yummy. It’s instant gratification. This is especially true in the spring and autumn when the palettes are constantly changing, and I can capture them just in time.” Spanish Bluebell She and Adam spend days on treks to

Hyacinthoides hispanica

locate beaches where round stones may

Salt Spring Island, April 2016

be found. “To find something perfectly round in nature like that is a treasure,”

"When I think of bluebells, I imagine a quiet

she says. “I love symmetry. It’s meditative.

woodland with sparkling, dappled sunlight dancing

Healing. It’s a piece of the earth that

down onto a blanket of blue flowers. Their dainty

I’ve just amplified . . . collaborating with

bell shape and dreamy, bluish-purple colours give

nature to create these fractals.”

them the most charming and ethereal energy. I have read that in folklore, bluebells are often

And there’s a deeper psychology at

connected with the fairy realm. The illustrations in

work in this inspirational endeavour of

my own childhood fairy books often featured these

enchantment. Elspeth refers to Ingrid

sweet flowers. Whenever I see them swaying in the

Fetell Lee, considered an expert on the

wind, I try to conjure the delicate, sweet music they

aesthetics of joy and design, who believes

would make if they could."

“the most joyful things that we relate to are usually round and colourful— balloons, doughnuts, glitter, confetti,” Elspeth explains. “For me, there’s just something about bright and beautiful that is healing for people. Pleasing and joyful and inspiring.” Several years ago, Elspeth’s mandala stones “accidentally went viral,” which although enabling her to make a living from her art, also led to burnout. In time, she navigated this tension to find a point of balance, to get back to why she embarked on this rocky road in the first place—the pure enjoyment of playing with colour.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

“Nature will forever be my greatest and most loyal muse.” PHOTOS BY MAGGIE JANE CECH

HER MANDALA STONES /

Daffodil Variety ‘Ice Follies’ Narcissus Pender Island, April 2017 "When the daffodils emerge with their trumpet-like shape and share their sunny selves on those early, crisp spring days, it’s almost as if they’re calling to the Earth to wake up from her winter slumber. After a few years of living in Canada, I noticed how daffodils always seemed to be the first of the spring flowers to emerge after winter. They are considered a symbol of new beginnings and rebirth, and I am so grateful that they grow here in cheerful abundance. Every field, garden, hill, and roadside adorned with them is such an uplifting sight."

Spanish Bluebell, Daffodils, and quotes excerpted from Jewels of Nature: A Mandala Stone Treasury (self-published 2018) by Elspeth McLean.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

FAERIE GODDESS MOTHERS OF GABRIOLA 2022 CALENDAR

The only thing more beautiful than a woman who bares the marks of time is the woman who lifts up others going through life’s challenges. Now is the time to pre-purchase this evocative 2022 fundraising calendar. A fabulous gift for a loved one or for yourself. The calendar features 50+ amazing women over the age of 50. Embracing our bodies, celebrating ageing, fighting ageism, and forging community. All proceeds donated to charity.

Get yours at faeriegoddessmothers.com

THE ART OF SLOW FOOD

In the reclamation of old world traditions, we make slow-fermented artisan sourdough bread, using sorghum, fire, and stone. Baked on Mudge Island—a small place only accessible by boat—we deliver these hearty and delicious loaves to you using our little boat and veggie-oil powered van. Gluten-free, vegan, organic, and handcrafted, this rustic loaf is as accessible as it gets. From our philosophy and way of life, to yours. Connect with us to find out where you can get your own loaf.

theartofslowfood.com

DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY’D LOVE TO START

We all want to be doing good work. Meaningful work that aligns so harmoniously with our values that we forget to count our hours. Maybe your dream job verges into the realm of play, or pays off by giving life purpose—a resource more valuable than money. No matter what, when you’re doing what you love all day, retirement becomes irrelevant. This part of the world is already rich with many creative entrepreneurs whistling as they work. And for those who have yet to break out into their own heart-singing vocation, well, the culture of dream-living is certainly contagious. The dreamers you'll meet in the next pages share the blueprints for their own good work. After all, saying it out loud (or in print) is an essential first step in making a dream come true.

PHOTO BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

1 A trifecta of delights One part of my last big dream, one that I liked the most, involved a combination of elements—part occult, part erotica emporium, and part alchemical herb pharmacy. After further thinking about it, I came up with a descriptive name—Persephone’s Emporium of Lost & Forbidden Arts: Encompassing the Occult, the Erotic & the Alchemy of the Soul. PETER COOK, GABRIOLA ISLAND

2 Help people reconnect A holistic retreat centre. I’m halfway there, since working for SHE RECOVERS is itself a dream come true. I am a person in long-term recovery, and have worked in addiction treatment for many years. There are incredible healing opportunities where I live. I want to share the power of earth-based healing modalities and the spirit and community of this place with fellow travellers. Addiction feeds on disconnection, and I believe the islands have the potential to help people reconnect with themselves, with their beloveds, and with the earth we all call home. Although if watching whales and eagles could be a paid gig then, okay, sign me up. VASALISA WALL, SATURNA ISLAND

The joy of flowers I’d love to be a flower farmer and florist.

Simply put, I love flowers: the colours, patterns,

Diving in and staying there Leading snorkelling groups for tourists in

Belize! It’s my favourite place in the world thus

variety, and symmetry. I am in awe of them. There

far. I feel completely at ease and at home there

is truly no better artist than nature. Flowers bring

and would move in a heartbeat if my kiddo and

me so much joy and, at the same time, teach me

grandkids would come with me. I love snorkelling!

about impermanence. Our whole world would

It is a challenge to get me out of the water once

not be as it is without them. On a deeper level, I

I get in. I love to stay there until I turn all pruney.

have many struggles, and one is to feel beautiful.

KATHY MCINTYRE, GABRIOLA ISLAND

For whatever reason, I feel beautiful when I’m around flowers. How wonderful to think I could help someone else feel beautiful in this way. And if not, well, I’d also love to have a small-run custom wood furniture business. SIOBHAN FRANCIS, SALT SPRING ISLAND

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY RACHELLE LYNN

5 Herbs, teas, and unguents Right now, I’m working on a product line that blends both locally farmed and wild plants into beauty/healing products and teas. My big picture dream is to have a full-on medicinal herb farm and apothecary shop as an outlet for the stuff I grow and make. SANDRA LOUIS, GABRIOLA ISLAND

6 the

If music be the food of love Food and music: one nourishes body,

the

other

the

soul.

Individually, they connect humans like nothing else. I dream of combining these elements to create unforgettable experiences and cherished memories. Imagine a retreat in a magical, remote setting. Days spent learning how to forage, to bake using wild yeast, to transmute nature's bounty into epic culinary creations. Evenings are for feasting and indulging in wildcrafted cocktails,

followed

late

nights

sharing stories and songs around a campfire under the stars. Back to the land, back to each other. And not a smartphone in sight. AMANDA LEMAY, WANDERER

PHOTO BY ROSS GRAY

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

21 DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY’D LOVE TO START /

Raise medicinal crops One of our dreams for our farm is to be

productive turmeric and ginger growers. Soon after my partner and I met (I’d picked him up hitchhiking across Canada) we crewed on two sailboats from Fulford Harbour, Salt Spring Island, to the Hilo, Big Island, Hawaii. Once on land again, helping out at various farms, we

Booking in appliances I would open a bookstore. I have wanted

to do that for 35 years but have never had the wherewithal to do so. Also, what I really want to see is someone else opening an appliance repair business on this island. The sooner the better. In fact, Island Futures has talked about helping someone to train for this job, as long as they stay

really grew to appreciate the power of these two

on the island.

roots. Not only are they highly medicinal from

SUSAN YATES , GABRIOLA ISLAND

root to stem to leaf—having been used by many cultures dating back more than 4,000 years— they also produce stunning flowers. Mainly grown in warmer, tropical climates, turmeric and ginger can flourish in Canadian soil if cultivated properly. We even named our daughter Olena, the Hawaiian word for turmeric/yellow. We would love to be able to share these rare (to Canada) plants with our Gulf Island communities. JESSICA KIRKWOOD, GALIANO ISLAND

Storage I would start a mini storage-unit business.

Been on my mind for years.

BREE NICHOLL, TEXADA ISLAND

10 Dem bones dem bones I want to have a bone digging business ‘cause of the National Geographic shows. BISHOP SVENSSON, GABRIOLA ISLAND

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

11 Net zero My big dream is to start a community solar farm on my property. I had gotten funding to make it happen before, but due to Site C going through, that fell through. I still want to give it a shot: about 1,000 panels on a part of our property to move our community closer to net zero on the energy grid. I just need to get some of the rich folk on the island into the idea, as there are plenty of people who could make it a reality. The initial 300 panels with all the construction would cost about $170k (according to my math a few years ago). It would be a neat thing to be able to cancel out a decent chunk of our reliance on outside power for the long term. ELI HASON, DENMAN ISLAND

Building a great vibe A business involving all areas of the

things that I value. Small-space living using as

A co-op vision I’d love to start an art co-op space.

A shared space with kilns, pottery wheels, a

many ethically sourced materials as possible

storefront with local art/crafts, a room for classes,

(recycled, locally milled, etc.). Something that

art groups, and a multimedia room too, for film/

draws on my artistry and creativity. Also, an

music editing. (Maybe a coffee bar attached?)

element of community—people I really care

Yeah . . . that’d be grand. I’ve been told art co-

about creating a great vibe for each other and

ops are impossible for a bunch of reasons that I

for our clients. Something focussed on building

forget, but it’s a wonderful vision.

great relationships and that we are testament to

JOANNE GREEN, PENDER ISLAND

with our vibe. A place where the people involved feel like equals, all believing in a common dream that we wish to create. MATT ENS, SALT SPRING ISLAND

PHOTO BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

21 DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY’D LOVE TO START /

14 Blossoming in strange times Six years ago, I started a part-time job as a florist, which soon turned into a full-fledged romance with flowers. That year, I wrote a letter to Future Emma, about what I wanted life to be: engaged, living on a small island, and building my business (flower farm and floral design). Fast forward five years and we are now making it happen. In the midst of COVID we were able to sell our city condo, buy a dream 10.3-acre Gulf Island property on a freshwater lake, build a home, and begin farming. This past year has been a complete whirlwind and a societal mess, but also a silver lining in our lives. Next year, we are planning on growing about half an acre of flowers, hoping to incorporate u-pick days, host workshops, and design for various weddings and events. This is my dream, and we are making it happen even in these strange circumstances! EMMA SCHEURWATER, DENMAN ISLAND

PHOTO BY DANIELLE LINDENLAUB

Truckin' on My dream is to have a Mexi or Asian

fusion food truck with super dank affordable food for all. I just think our community could benefit from some different food options and some ethnicity. Could move it around and keep the menu changing. Would love to be my own boss too, of course.

MATTEW GAULDIE, DENMAN ISLAND

PHOTO BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY (ABOVE), KO BACKPACKO (BELOW)

16 Bookish barista I’m a coffee and book lover so I’ve always dreamed of a coffee shop/ bookstore. Books are a good way to immerse yourself in different cultures and travel, without leaving your living room. Before I came to Canada, I had never left Mexico and reading was my way of learning about different places. MIGUEL CERVANTES, MAYNE ISLAND

17 Sharing the Great Outdoors An outdoor adventure business would be great. I love the thought of spending my days outdoors and living a life that seems more real and visceral. Fishing, hunting, and exploring, well, it sounds really appealing in theory, romanticized in my thoughts. The idea feels clean, but I have my doubts. I guess it’s because of the tourism and inevitable stream of entitlement that would spew from the patrons of said company. I’d need to figure out how to stem that. The true fear is that the simplicity of the outdoors would be in danger of corruption when the intention shifts from creating experiences to monetary gain. CYRUS GALEA, SALT SPRING ISLAND

PHOTO BY HATHAM

21 DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY’D LOVE TO START /

18 Fork Off If I could start any business, it would be a vegan café called Fork Off. It would only be open for breakfast and lunch. The menu would be incredibly simple, but everything would be made in my kitchen and served fresh every day. SHEILA NORGATE, GABRIOLA ISLAND

Penning your story I'm dreaming about a letter-writing

Here’s my idea. You tell me about your loved

business called Letters to Loved Ones. My creative

one(s) so I can accurately represent them in

outlet is writing poetry, and with encouragement

the written piece. Once approved by you, the

from my husband, I have recently written letters,

words are handwritten with calligraphy pens on

prose, and poems to friends and family for

high-quality paper, with an option to include a

birthdays and special occasions. Slow (or snail)

drawing that reflects the content of the piece. All

mail has always been a form of communication

finished works are sealed with a wax seal stamp

and connectivity that I love, so receiving a

and mailed off to your loved one or sent to you to

homemade card or handwritten letter brings

include with a gift.

light to my life—something I feel is often lost with digital communication.

PHOTO BY DEBBIE MARSHALL

KATE ORTWEIN, HORNBY ISLAND

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

21 DREAMERS AND THE BUSINESSES THEY’D LOVE TO START /

Sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll: the anti-business mantra

I’m so un-businessy. I’m 56 years old. I have no dreams other than the ones I’m living now. There’s no future for me. I don’t need anything. I don’t want to make a business. Everything I want is in front of me. All laid out. I’ve worked hard all my life. I’ve built stone walls to beat the band. I’ve made beautiful stone stairs to get drunk on, to make love on. Made patios. I see spaces. I did it all for at least 20 years. You have to understand I’m old now. I’ve done lots. I’m just going to cut some quality firewood, and I’m going to go skiing, and I’m going to hang out with beautiful women. Do I want to do business? Absolutely not. If all you ever do is business, you don’t like sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll. JONATHAN SMITH, SALT SPRING ISLAND

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY LUKE SOUTHERN

21 Life as art I've already been developing my dream business, making portraits of amazing people, plants, moments, and places. This year, as part of that dream, I'd like to start making books. I'm already working on one, a poetic and photographic interpretation of the island where I reside. In the years ahead I hope to continue documenting island life, in a creative way, all along the coast. STASIA GARRAWAY, SALT SPRING ISLAND

PHOTO BY @THIRTEEN_POEMS

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

Dear Wapiti Wanderer, Like so many folk whose intuition led them to these islands, you left your family behind. On this small island, you are the only one of your kind, a runaway Roosevelt elk. Was it curiosity or the need for escape that drove you here—to a sanctuary from poachers? Whatever the reason, you braved the ocean to find refuge among a herd of cows. Do you feel at home in this quiet place? Are you content to stand and munch with those not quite like you? We hope so. Welcome to our community of dreamers.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

SALTSPRING KITCHEN CO.

Elevate the Everyday Island-based and family-run, Salt Spring Kitchen is an artisan food company specializing in savoury, spicy, and sweet preserves and hot sauces. Designed to pair with fancy cheeses, cocktails, or toast, we elevate everything from your breakfast table to your happy hour. Believing that good food has the power to bring people together, our small team is committed to creating the best products for your everyday meals and easy entertaining. From our kitchen to yours, with love. Melanie & JamFam xo

saltspringkitchen.com

RANDEE BRINKS REALTOR®

Finding and selling your own piece of paradise was never easier!

From listing to staging to showing to purchasing your real estate dreams . . . whatever the objective, you're in good hands. Contact me today!

saltspringhouse.com

250 221 3530

Macdonald Realty Ltd. Licensed Real Estate Agent

PHOTO BY NORM EDWARDS

With deep gratitude for this magical island, combined with my energy, style, and years of experience, I support you from start to finish in this important and exciting endeavour.

PURPLE CAMAS, WHITE RACCOONS, and Spiritual Portals of Renewal SAYSUTSHUN STORIES TOLD BY DAVE SPIRIT WOLF BODALY

“I know your spirit,” his auntie said to him.

He dedicates this part of his work to the

“And I know you won’t let these stories die.”

history and heritage of Saysutshun (the Hul’q’umi’num word for "training ground

Dave Spirit Wolf Bodaly is a Snuneymuxw

for running"). Saysutshun (also known as

First Nations knowledge keeper. He carries

Newcastle Island) has been a fitness and

the Saysutshun Island stories with the

healing place for the Snuneymuxw for more

language from the past to inform our

than 10,000 years.

understanding today. Dave’s voice is a transmitter, carrying Say“When an elder passes away, it becomes our

sutshun cultural traditions and mythologies

responsibility to keep their teachings and

across time with his big smile and open heart,

protocols alive,” he says. “I’ve always been a

inviting listeners in to hear and observe.

storyteller. The stories are within our DNA.” Dave is the cultural tour guide of Saysutshun. He has made a commitment to holding and sharing stories of his ancestral land and its people, keeping knowledge of animals, plants, medicines, and ecosystems alive. He weaves language and cedar strips into

“The stories are within our DNA.”

stories, hats, and bracelets that bring the history of this land into the awareness of all who live here.

PHOTO BY MIKE MCINNES

The following stories of Saysutshun are carried forward by Dave, gifted to you, as readers and visitors to the area. They belong to Snuneymuxw First Nations and should be acknowledged as such. Please do not share your own version of these stories, as doing so takes away from their sacredness and connection to the land and culture to which they belong. “For our eyes only,” Dave says.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY MIKE MCINNES

PURPLE CAMAS, WHITE RACCOONS, AND SPIRITUAL PORTALS OF RENEWAL /

This is the land where the purple Camas grow. This is the land where seven white saltwater raccoons dwell. This is the land whose spiritual portals are gathering places to connect and heal.

The Flower that Feeds the People

Within Saysutshun, there’s a captivating grove

Now, visitors stroll past these cheery purple

of Garry oaks, beneath which grow scattered

flowers, brushing hands over them in spring

beds of Camas flowers—a purple rainbow of a

or taking refuge there under the Garry oaks,

plant. These can’t be missed when in bloom.

perhaps unaware of the food source and

They decorate the moist grassy areas, waving

survival stories that lie beneath their feet.

and sprawled in the wind. They thrive here, sheltered partly underneath a 400-year-old oak whose twisted branches reach toward the beckoning ocean. While underground, the roots of the Camas flower lead to a midsummer food staple that has been sacred to the Coast Salish peoples for thousands of years: the Camas bulb. It’s similar to a potato—perhaps with a bit more gumminess in flavour—and the starch is a perfect balance for a diet that was rich in seafood. Throughout time, specific families have cared for the Camas bulbs. They harvested, dried, crushed, and packaged the flour as an important commodity and local trade item, either trading for other valued goods, such as cedar baskets and dried halibut, or celebrating them as a nutritious addition to a great dinner—pit-roasted, dried, and pounded into flour to make Camas bread.

PHOTO BY JONATHAN LIDBECK

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

A lucky person roaming Saysutshun or kayaking around it may spot something very rare: one of approximately seven white saltwater raccoons on Saysutshun.

How the Saysutshun Raccoon Came to be White

Thousands of years ago, as the island’s animals gathered for their annual feast, each contributed its food of choice—clams, berries, halibut, and more. One year, the raccoon, otter, and cormorant hatched a plan to steal the coveted halibut, as there was never enough to go around. But the Transformer—who came in the shape of an eagle—caught them in the act, and duly administered a punishment to each. The cormorant, having tried to hide the theft under his wings, was made to spread them wide open whenever they became wet. The otter, formerly a scout of the land, was turned into a scout of the sea that could, as before, still breathe only above water. Seeing these transforming punishments come to pass, the raccoon became so afraid that it turned white from fear. The eagle then announced that this raccoon would remain white forever, banned to Saysutshun. It’s said that one in 10 Saysutshun raccoons are born white. The white raccoon is called puk hul hul less, and this is the only place in the world that they are found in such numbers.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY CLAYTON HARRISON

PURPLE CAMAS, WHITE RACCOONS, AND SPIRITUAL PORTALS OF RENEWAL /

Spaces that Renew our Spirits

There are two sacred areas that are known to First Nations on Saysutshun—spiritual places used for connection and healing. It is essential to move counterclockwise when walking the island’s 8km loop, going against time and renewing spirits, especially when a loved one has died, or when the people are sad. Once the circuit is complete, it’s again possible to carry on, to move forward. At one of the spirit portals—yu’thuy’thut the people come together to throw flowers into the ocean—each flower holding the energy and memory of a loved one. The carnations are infused with this energy before being taken and placed on a towel with care. To the steady beat of ceremonial drums and sacred singing, the ends of the towel are taken up and it is swung high into the air, arcing into the Salish Sea, releasing the people’s energy and sadness. It is a time and place to let go of tears.

The caretaker and his family are the only permanent residents on Saysutshun. Seasonal visitors come to walk the trails, camp, and explore this culturally significant island. Saysutshun, this island rich with history and spirit, is a healing place to be enjoyed by all. Take note of where you stand and ask: what stories lie under my feet?

PHOTO BY CHRISTOPHER BABCOCK

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

LEARNING TO

LIVE OFF GRID BY SANDIKA JOY

I wish I could tell you I’d spent my 20's reading

I’d never lived with a partner before, and I’d never

gardening and sustainable-living books and that

lived off-grid. Still, when the time came, I made the

they’re what helped me find my place in this off-

decision to move into a canvas wall tent on an off-

grid world. But what actually helped me was

grid island that I’d never set foot on. And while being

trusting in change and following the pull of my

on an off-grid island can offer some comforts, money

heart.

for us has always been tight, resulting in a decidedly un-luxurious tent. It was a big step to learn how to

Today, I feel like I'm returning to the me I was when

be in a relationship, especially one where every

I was a child.

household duty happens under a 400sq. ft. roof. It was the craziest and bravest thing I’ve ever done.

My off-grid life started four years ago when I met my partner. I spent the weekends at his cabin in

We camped on someone’s land for the first month.

nature, soaking in what felt like days in Neverland.

The “outhouse” was a bucket with a toilet seat on

We’d pick berries, gaze at the stars, play crib around

it—it did not have any walls. It was an adventure all

the campfire, bathe in the river, collect water from

right, dotted with a few mini meltdowns along the

the waterfall. We’d shower outdoors, heating water

way. But I hung in, as I knew that best friends were

in a big pot and pumping it with a battery-powered

waiting in the wings and that we would figure out

shower head as we looked out over the mountains. It

the rest over time. We soon found a better place to

was glorious. Then I would head back to the big city

pitch our canvas-walled tent, adding a few upgrades

to enjoy my posh condo life, consisting of long baths,

for comfort—running water including an on-demand

the ease of laundry, the flip of a light switch, family,

hot water system, solar panels, lights, and an outdoor

friends, bus rides, and coffee shops.

wood-heated hot tub. Soon I learned how to garden and keep chickens, living out my childhood dream of collecting eggs.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

"It was an adventure all right, dotted with a few mini meltdowns along the way."

PHOTO BY SANDIKA JOY

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

After all, it has been said that we create our life script at the age of five. By then, we already have a plan for how we will live. I'm sure I was influenced by Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables. I was an animal lover, and in my imagination, I was an ancient wild woman who lived in the woods. Living out what my five-year-old self envisioned has instilled in me a driving sense of purpose. Among other things, I don’t have as much time to obsess about who likes me, what I’m wearing, or whether I’m good enough. No time to overthink. There is always something to do—weeding, watering, stacking firewood, cooking, picking up the sheep poop to utilize as fertilizer, emptying the compost, feeding the chickens, pulling out invasive blackberries, sorting the recycling, cleaning coolers, organizing our tiny space, switching ice blocks—the work is constant. On top of all that, I’ve built my own business, and I assist my partner with the building projects and chores he tends to be better at. Here, everything between us holds an entirely different level of intimacy and connection. I love the traditions we are creating. Most of them, like making nettle pesto in the spring or pressing apples in the fall, hardly cost a thing. The days are full, and I’m usually exhausted when evening hits. Mondays don't mean what they used to. Neither do Saturdays. Sundays are fun days, and mornings are my favourite part of every day. I love waking up with the light. I boil water for our coffee. I refill the water filter, which sits in front of a window. I look out, and all I see is nature. Life is simple. We have food, we have shelter, and we have love. I know I'm creating the best memories of my life. It's not easy, and while this way of life is not for everyone, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Life is simple. We have food, we have shelter, and we have love."

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

LEARNING TO LIVE OFF GRID /

PHOTO BY KEVIN FRIESEN

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE INNER SANCTUM SIX CREATORS OFFER A PEEK BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Without a workshop, Geppetto wouldn’t have carved Pinocchio. Santa’s elves would be twiddling their thumbs, and the Pied Piper would never have gotten around to recording his album. Whether it’s a beautiful mess, like painter Francis Bacon’s famously chaotic studio, or as simple and neat as Georgia O’Keefe’s well-organized atelier, creative people need their own space. Some start off with a desk beside their bed, others an easel in the attic while they fantasize of a curated room where they can pursue their creative dreams. If fortunate enough to realize such designs, the workshop often becomes an extension of both their art and personality. It is an intimate space, a physical representation of the essence of the creator's work, with inspiration flowing from kitschy knickknacks to a premium view of nature. The artistic life demands devotion, and where an artist works can quickly become where an artist lives. These island-based creatives have carved out such places of their own. Come on in and take a look around.

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

GEORGI GEORGIEV | VARNA CYCLES

BICYCLE MAKER People always come here and say, “How can you work when you’re such a messy guy?” But if I put my tools in order, I can’t find them. When I look at a pile, I say, “Ah, this one!”

Twenty years ago, I went to China, and, my God,

I have two workshops. One is the place where I make

I didn’t see a single accident! The traffic is a mess,

the bicycles. The steel table, the welder, the gas for

but it’s still so well organized. Everybody knows their

the welding. The grinder. The drill press. The milling

place, and everything moves well. Organized chaos.

machine. The lathe—everything I make needs

If I’m not messy, nothing happens.

bending.

I’m a sculptor by profession, but when I came to

I make tricycles for older people afraid of falling over,

British Columbia, they said, “Oh no, we don’t need

people who don’t have good balance, and people

sculpting, we need bicycles.” So I started making

who’ve crashed. Everything is a kind of curve, to

bicycles.

make it strong and pretty and useful. The tricycle is not as simple as a bicycle. My second workshop is where I put the stuff together, where I finish the bicycles off. When that’s done, I take them to the city to get a powder coating. I was born in the city of Varna on the Black Sea coast. I grew up on the ocean. I'd be out there in my speed boat and I just couldn’t believe that the porpoises were faster than me. Water is 740 times denser than air, and if they go at such a speed in the water, it’s like going as fast as a jet in the air. Nature designed them to be slippery. So, I said, I’m going to make a bicycle that looks like a dolphin. The bicycles win races. No one has beat my world record. If people hear “George is coming to the race,” they say, “Aw, you’re going to lose again!” I owe my success to knowing what works for me.

THE INNER SANCTUM /

"If I’m not messy, nothing happens."

PHOTOS BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE INNER SANCTUM /

JO-ANNE FRIEDMAN | PENTACLE DESIGN STUDIO

CLOTHING DESIGNER I’ve got this calling to unite people in a harmonious, healthy, self-sufficient lifestyle. It’s about learning how to live more sustainably and in community together in a fairly modernized way. Build it and they will come. I’m so driven by that feeling, and now it’s all come together.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

"Wide open spaces out there. Wide open spaces in here." This building was empty when we first moved here. It had been used as a woodworking workshop. It had the large glass double doors and this old boatbuilding iron trolley that I love. But these walls weren’t here. All this framing and drywall, all the electrical, plumbing, floor—we put it all in. It was fun to design it and add a walnut floor and my mom's antique mirror and chandelier. Interior design is a different medium than fabric, but it is similar too. It's important to me to be in a space that inspires: lighting, environment, beauty, brightness. The windows are my favourite part. Wide open spaces out there. Wide open spaces in here. The size helps me to be organized so I can think clearly because the work is so involved. I’m comfortable here and have everything I need—I

Interior design is lovingly attached to clothing design

saved it all up through the years. All the little

for me. I want to build a whole bunch of little star

gadgets. A cutting knife my girlfriend passed on to

pods outside and turn them into small structures

me. Her weights. Her rabbit. Her hooks. Maybe some

for camping and more artist studios. Throughout

of these things don’t mean anything to someone

my whole life, I just wanted to have my own studio

who doesn’t know, but they mean something to me.

where I could create my own stuff and be inspired

I find a lot of stuff secondhand. I collected machines

by the quality of living, the environment, and the

and yarn throughout my life, and just put all that to

people who wanted to live a similar lifestyle.

one side as I was working for someone else. During that time, every once in a while, I’d make some

If it wasn’t for the life of the communal farm and

drawings and realize that this is what I really want

the nature around it, I wouldn’t be inspired. From

to do—a sustainable-style clothing brand for soft

the outset, I knew somehow that there’s got to be

movement and a holistic lifestyle.

a way for people to come and live together more self-sufficiently on the land, but still have their own

So eventually I moved here and built a functional

space.

studio in a natural environment, a place where I could focus on hand-making each individual item. I

I’m a designer, so I feel I can design it all.

am a single fashion designer on a communal farm. By now, I've already spent seven years at my farm and two years building my brand.

PHOTOS BY METTA ROSE PHOTOGRAPHY

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

KERRY JOHNSON | JOHNSON & MCLEOD DESIGN CONSULTANTS

INTERIOR DESIGNER

My workspace is a Frankensteinian concoction of city office and rustic country. Initially, this room was a place for tool storage, building projects, and general do-it-yourself-ness (including such stellar projects as resuscitating Crocs by spraying them gloss black each year . . . doesn't get any more country than that). At that time, my design work was done in my city office, a minimalist white box that provided the austerity needed to remain undistracted. It was a paperless homage to modernity and cleanliness.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

THE INNER SANCTUM /

When we sold our city apartment, my partner and I decamped to the island full time. At first, the thought was that we might retire, but we've been as busy on the island as we ever were in the city, so I had to find a way to shoehorn my office into the tool room. The grimier tools were given the heave ho, a no-dust policy was embraced (the computer hates it), and the room got a complete refurb. To be honest, its use as a tool room was diminishing as the work on the house had been pretty much completed. Once the computer was installed and the office up and running, I leaned towards a more rough-luxe look (Miss Havisham meets American Pickers—a bird's-nests-and-vintage tools type thing). The walls and ceiling are now sheathed in spruce plywood, which gives the place a honeyed glow. The plywood walls also provided the opportunity for tool display, with the most-used candidates mounted in an aesthetically pleasing way. They now share space with a slightly battered disco ball, exploded mechanical vintage posters found in Bangkok, and a frieze of vintage tools on a console. A signed 7”x10” glossy of Morgan McMicheals, won at Drag Night in Toucans, Palm Springs, peers gayly over my shoulder while I work. We took down one of the walls, so now there's a view of Campbell Bay and the occasional deer that strolls by. Very grounding. A Vermeer-like rendering of a vintage jigsaw found at a yard sale (by island painter Jim Marsh) takes pride of place and harkens perfectly to the meld of practicality and beauty that now imbues the room.

"Miss Havisham meets American Pickers—a bird's-nest-and-vintagetools type thing."

PHOTO BY MIGUEL CERVANTES

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE INNER SANCTUM /

RACHELLE CHINNERY

PORCELAIN CARVER When we moved here 14 years ago, my husband Doug and I lived in our house under construction. An old, dilapidated Atco travel trailer served as my studio, with my kiln under a temporary shelter to keep it out of the rain. That was my studio arrangement for three years. Making do with small spaces has been my foundation, starting with the tiny studios I trained in while living in Japan for four years.

The studio I have now has what I had dreamed of in

Recently, I took my computer out of my studio to

the three years spent working in that dark, musty old

make my space quieter and free of social media

trailer: a lot of light, a lot of headspace, hot running

distractions. The resulting silence is proving to be

water, and a warm, dry floor. For a clay workshop,

a very powerful, motivating force. I can hear myself

my studio is relatively small, but it’s plenty of room

think; I can feel myself fully in my work again.

for me, and it has a wonderful warm and welcoming atmosphere. Small workspace training has made me a limited series ceramist. In contrast to production potters, I don’t need a lot of space to store work in various stages of completion. I make a kiln’s worth of work and see those pieces through to completion. Then the next round gets started. This way I only need a few shelves for my work in progress; then the finished work is stored or put into my greenhouse gallery. My showroom is outdoors, which has worked very well in the pandemic. My small greenhouse gallery is complemented by some open-air tables and shelves. Magnolia trees and rose bushes line the periphery of this outdoor show space. Both inside and out, I have surrounded myself with images from my time learning my craft in Japan. Bowls and jars are filled with interesting finds I’ve collected from the beaches and the woods. My aesthetic is informed by repeat patterns in the natural world: tidal flow, feather patterning, wind and air movement. The objects I surround myself with serve as aesthetic anchors that keep me grounded in my work.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

"The objects I surround myself with serve as aesthetic anchors that keep me grounded in my work."

PHOTOS BY JENNIFER ARMSTRONG

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

OCEAN MUSSACK

WOODCARVER My mixed media pieces used to be assembled from found objects and reclaimed wood—materials harvested from the urban landscape where I lived. When I settled on the coast, the materials around me were organic, and I began to carve wood, sometimes incorporating stone, feathers, and vines. In other words, nature took over.

I’m a renter here, and since long-term rental homes are scarce, I’ve had to move frequently. In each dwelling, I’ve managed to create a workspace for my art practice that has varied from an open lean-to shed to a covered deck. Always outdoors, the main requirement has been shelter from the rain. I work outside year-round thanks to the temperate climate. My current rental property is longer-term and includes a large, insulated garage with in-floor heating. And yet soon after moving in, I found myself immediately setting up another outdoor workspace: a converted carport with a good roof, electricity for power tools and lighting, and a lot of open airflow. The lattice wall lets the air enter freely along with shafts of afternoon sunlight. The floor is mostly earthen, with solid rock in one corner. Since my carving is very organic, it’s important that I feel the elements as I’m working. My senses come alive as I smell the wood chips and salty air, hear the eagles and gulls, gaze out to the open ocean, and feel the soft earth beneath my feet. My studio is nestled in among the trees—my constant companions as I carve.

"In my studio, I feel immersed in and connected to the natural abundance of this beautiful island."

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

THE INNER SANCTUM /

the

finished pieces. Having a larger space has allowed

workspace. It can’t be congested or cluttered

me to create work on a much bigger scale, up to 7'

because the air needs to flow so that the creativity

tall and 5' wide.

I’m

intentional

about

the

space

within

can too. I like to have enough room to spread out my materials so that I can see them properly and be

In my studio, I feel immersed in and connected to

inspired—they remind me of just how beautiful an

the natural abundance of this beautiful island. My

artist nature itself is. I don’t have anything else in my

work—and my soul—are continuously fed by this

studio aside from my tools and some of my favourite

connection.

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE INNER SANCTUM /

PATRICK BELANGER | DRIFTER MEDIA

GRAPHIC DESIGNER I just rebuilt this place. A tree fell on it in a big wind storm a few years ago, and it took until now—what with everything else going on—to rebuild it. I was using my son’s room as an office instead, but after some time, he said, “I think it's time for you to go to your own office.” I got the hint.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

The main thing for me is that my space has to be small and simple. A lot of people have stuff everywhere, but for me it has to be plain Jane, and I have to clean my whole office before I start working. I can’t control how my house is, with the family and all, but I can control my office. Except for the floor; it’s always dirty, because, well, it’s on our farm . . . can’t help that. Anything I don’t need can’t be in here. The room needs to breathe and be relatively empty to help me feel inspired. Because it’s my own space, I also wanted to have something manly: black walls and antlers. I’ve been holding onto these antlers from my father-in-law for years, but they were really dirty— painting them black has made them fantastic. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. It’s 10'x10',

A lot of people call me a graphic designer, but 31

rebuilt using as much recycled and found material

years into it, I like to call myself an artist or a crafter—a

as possible. I used cedar that I obtained partly from

provider of happiness. I spend 10 to 12 hours a day in

an island lady who had a bunch left over from her

here doing this work—really, anything visual.

own build, and the rest I recycled from my earlier office destruction.

In my urban days, some of the offices I worked in had no windows. It was awful and I just didn’t want to go to work. Hence, all the windows here. My environment has always been super important to me. Even though my space is small, I love to feel like I’m sitting outside. Plus, the view is pretty cool.

"The room needs to breathe and be relatively empty to help me feel inspired."

PHOTOS BY THIRZA VOYSEY

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

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NIGHTHAWKS IN MOURNING

A LAMENT FOR THEIR VANISHING CALLS BY BRIONY PENN

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY ASHLEY TUBBS

On the wall of the intensive care unit at our

appear way up in the sky—a silhouette of long,

big regional hospital, there is a print of a quiet

pointed wings, a forked tail, and a head with

hillside at dusk. It is one of those generic

an enormous mouth wide open. Back and

paintings you see in any waiting room where

forth they sweep the sky for insects. I have

they want to calm you. Wheeling high above

rarely seen a nighthawk ascend or descend to

the quiet hillside in a sky rising from gold to

the ground, a sign that movements between

purple is a small, swallow-like bird. For me

worlds are assured but rarely documented.

the picture doesn’t calm; it drives me close to committing acts of vandalism. Had you

While my dad was dying, all we could see out

looked out the hospital window a few years

the hospital windows were dust and huge

earlier, you would have seen a lovely hillside

machines. All we could hear were blasts and

with scattered oaks, arbutus, and fir. And at

drilling. While our family sat vigil at his side,

dusk common nighthawks swept the sky,

the noises continued 24 hours a day. Someone

as if to reassure you that there was a life to

out there wanted to make sure that the new

return to after a sickness or loss. Now there is

superhighway was ready to take us on a

nothing but the results of vandalism, noise,

documented journey to a duller world. Where

and concrete.

there was once a hill meadow with nighthawk nests, there is now only a suggestion of

Nighthawks can attach themselves to you in

shrubbery dissected by roads. Sitting in the

a particular way. As birds of dawn and dusk,

waiting room wondering whether my father

they come when your thoughts are already

was going to die that dawn, I needed some

lingering on deeper topics than work or meals.

reassurance that life returns after loss, but

And they gradually wind their way into those

no sounds of nighthawks drifted down from

thoughts with their melancholy cries, which start somewhere around the evening star and glide down into your inner sanctum. The other thing about

"Nighthawks can attach themselves to you in a particular way."

nighthawks is that you never see them up close. All day they sleep camouflaged in

the sky, only the incessant drone of a rock-

the limbs of the Douglas firs and Garry oaks,

crushing machine. Someone, I suppose,

or in their nests on the ground. Their mottled

expected us to close the window, stare at the

brown plumage is indistinguishable from the

picture of the quiet hillside at dusk, and just

leaves, bark, and grasses. Come nightfall, they

imagine the calls of serenity.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

NIGHTHAWKS IN MOURNING /

My family gathered during this same week a year

There aren’t many ways to express to your brothers

later for our annual campout at a family place

what you feel when the seasons change, your father

under firs and oaks. Out of the blue at midday, a

dies, or you say goodbye to them for another year.

nighthawk cry startled me from a conversation with

Largely all those things go unsaid. But watching the

my brothers. We looked up together. The sky was full

nighthawks together was just about everything we

of common nighthawks circling below the canopy

would have wanted to say. We’re thankful that the

of the forest. They rarely fly so low or during the

meadow has remained intact for five generations

day. We watched bird after bird join the flock and

of our family to hear them. Back at that hospital,

realized that we were witnessing the start of a mass

though, the possibility has gone forever.

migration. The white wing patches flashed as they flew between us and the sun. The young ones were

I try to imagine dusk without the nighthawks; I

indistinguishable from their parents and we could

know that I can never imitate their call when they

sense the excitement in the air. They circled above

have gone. Do we really need to move mountains

our heads for 20 minutes and then were gone south,

and quiet hillsides to get better roads and better

spiralling up on a thermal wind from the change of

hospitals? I know one thing: I would rather die a

weather.

little earlier under the real nighthawks than over a prolonged period in that hospital, staring at a picture, trying to imagine their calls. Originally titled "Is There Life After Nighthawks? Healing up High" Excerpted from A Year on the Wild Side (TouchWood Editions 2019) by Briony Penn

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY DANIEL HOLMES

at folklifemag.ca $34 a year

Reading gives us somewhere to go when we have to stay where we are. —Mason Cooley

PHOTO BY @NADIE_J_G, FEATURING @JANZ_K WEARING @NADBRAD.DESIGNS

Orca Wedding The sea is all distance, a lover without end or true horizon, and yet these waters make a home, circling rocky coasts and croppings, the middens of an earlier people hidden in soft earth beneath the fir and cedar, the rhythms of their gatherings a continuity they learned from the seasons and the sea. My wife and I came to this place late in life, came to be married and then to live here and to die among what had always called, the sounding of currents and waves no different from a mother who makes the first sound anyone has heard. It is what binds us together, as surely as the Salish waters bind together the islands where we make our home. Our first night, before we would rummage in the woods to gather the makings of an altar for the mossy slope where we would say our vows, I stood outside our small rooms and listened into the dark, listened to a sound I had never heard before that lifted from below the cliff edge in the waters I could not see.

In the morning we sat silent beside our altar, and looked past the world of no horizon. Then we said what no one else would hear. This is when the orcas came, five of them together. They rose up out of the waters below us with the whoosh I heard now for the second time. “Yes,” they sounded—again and again. Then they made a circle, a perfect ring to help us seal our vows before they dove to where they no longer could be heard or seen. Love has its own way of rising, letting go or diving deeper still, though we may never know its root in the uncertain waters of what we are. But we came to this place to live as we were able, and to raise a child who would climb far beyond our reach in his forest home— a green-eyed boy who learned the forest’s silence, and took into his body what an island is, shaped by the rhythms of what can and can’t be seen, in the unbroken lineage of the sea. BY PETER LEVITT

From Love of the Salish Sea Islands, New Essays, Memoirs and Poems by 40 Island Writers, Mother Tongue Publishing

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

MAKING PAINT Transforming the Dust of Everyday Life WITH BRENDALEE ASTELLS PHOTOS BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

Scouring the beach for stones and shells and pieces of brick, she unearths a large yellowish rock. What colour would that make? she wonders. When she gets home and cracks the rock open—placing it in an old sock and smashing it with a hammer—she finds it’s an off-white inside. A bit dismayed, she resolves to continue the hunt for elusive shades. It’s just another day in Brendalee Astell’s exploration of colour, of art, of new endeavours.

From having a photographic memory to suffering a brain injury. From performing a variety of jobs to reinventing herself as a silversmith. From enjoying success as a jeweller to enduring a recent derailment from a broken wrist. From painting left-handed to stumbling on the science of creating natural paints using rocks, shells, flowers, and whatever else she can find. Well versed in reinvention, paint-making is her newest dazzling world, a far cry from her long-time city life as a single mother. One small corner of her studio houses her silversmithing work, a space overflowing with tools of every kind—hammers, pliers, mandrels, and files. The remainder of the studio is newly populated with little jars set on various perches. The jars are stuffed with calendula, rose petals, crushed oyster shells, yellow rocks, and red bricks. There's even a jar of dried bugs, which she examines closely, her nose scrunched up to the glass, simultaneously at odds with her purchase while eager to transform its contents into what she says will be the most vibrant red.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

MAKING PAINT /

"I get all shaken up when I have something I want to do so badly, and I don’t have time. I get agitated. Anxious. I just want to do it."

Brendalee says that life has finally provided the

"During COVID, a community has really begun to

time and space to create and explore, interrupting

open up,” Brendalee tells us. “I believe it’s that sense

herself with earnest excitement to describe the

of needing a place to gather virtually and belong to

purple that slowly morphs into green as she mixes

something larger than the bubbles that have been

one ingredient with another. After she discovered

our lives for the past year. It’s one of the many silver

that paint-making is “a thing,” each day has turned

linings that have come about and it’s my hope that

into an exciting rabbit hole.

we continue it.”

“It was all about shiny with my silversmithing,” she

Endlessly searching for answers, Brendalee is

says. “Now it’s ‘look at all of these colours!’ I get all

determined to figure things out and share her

shaken up when I have something I want to do so

findings. “It’s just the way I am about everything,”

badly, and I don’t have time. I get agitated. Anxious.

she laughs. “Intense. It starts with ‘What would

I just want to do it. Learn as much as I can about it,

happen if I did this?’ which leads to ‘Well what if I

especially because there’s a real scarcity complex

did that?’—so many ideas that my head feels like it

around sharing specific information on paint-

will explode.”

making.” She tries working with weld—a dried plant matter— “From books to businesses trying to sell you kits

to create a dye that yields a bright yellow, then

to online forums,” Brendalee explains. “It’s like

hopes that if she later imbues it with indigo it will

it’s some big secret. When people ask a specific

produce greens and emeralds and turquoises. She

question, the response is always 'You’ll just have

adds alum and then soda ash to the dye solution to

to experiment.’ But isn’t being an artist about

create “the lake” (precipitate) that will be strained

putting things out there? Does it have to be so

through a coffee filter, leaving behind only the

proprietorial?

pigment.

I just want to impart information that will help somebody else start their journey."

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

MAKING PAINT /

The various colour experiments dye her hands and countertops, and fill her studio with strange cabbage smells and overflowing beakers. She adds calcium carbonate when a dye is developing, which creates a hard water that can yield a more intense red. She uses a heavy mortar and pestle to grind nature’s findings into a fine dust. These pigment particles will then be dispersed into a gum Arabic solution and mulled to form the paste that’s used as paint.

"It just flows so easily—kind of like how you want life to be."

Brendalee demonstrates this, moving

She gazes around her studio at the long

the muller—a piece of flat glass with a

bright paintings on the orange walls and

handle—in an infinity shape over the

the silversmithing work off to the side.

pigment and solution, listening to its

Counters and shelves filled with petals.

consistency and waiting for the moment

The table buried under a dizzying array

when the clumps resolve to paint. “When

of paint-making objects and tools. “It’s a

I first saw people doing the mulling thing,

love affair with colour,” she says. She often

there was something so sensual and

reflects on the blessings that have brought

fascinating about it,” she says. “It’s the

her here:

movement. It’s tactile. It just flows

“It doesn’t matter what’s happened.

so easily—kind of like how you want

I’ve always come back from it. My wrist

life to be.”

breaking and not being able to function the way I’m used to, that’s okay because it

The process brings her childhood to mind.

is leading me in other beautiful, colourful

“Getting your hands in there, like when

directions. I’m so blessed in my life.”

you’re a kid finger painting—so elemental, down to the very basics, the core.”

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

A RECIPE FOR

PEACH TREE PAINT BY BRENDALEE ASTELLS

Equipment Needed

Ingredients

Large mason jar

30 peach tree leaves

Sieve

4 cups distilled water

2 small glass jars

4 tsp alum

Turkey baster

2 tsp soda ash

Coffee filter

Gum Arabic (binder medium – 1:1 ratio with pigment)**

Funnel Muller (or any flat-bottomed glass item) Glass or marble surface mulling slab (at least 10” surface area)*

Please note: the utensils, jars, and cooking pot should not be used for any future food preparation.

Shelf liner

*Ideally both the muller and the surface should have a fine tooth to it. You can get this by scratching it up with sandpaper.

2 small palette knives Small paintbrush

**Can be purchased or DIY. I have used this recipe from Arleebean on YouTube at youtu.be/x_779MFFtF0. I scaled mine down to a ¼ of the recipe.

To Make Step 1 – Processing the leaves 1.

Cut the leaves into small pieces and put in a 1-litre stainless steel pot.

Add 3 cups of distilled water.

Boil for 5 minutes, then lower heat to simmer. Notice how it smells like almond extract? When the almond smell is gone, it is ready.

4. Strain the liquid through a sieve into a large mason jar. 5.

Discard the leaves. The liquid should be dark yellow.

Step 2 – Preparing the alum and soda ash solutions 1.

Bring just over 1 cup of distilled water to boil.

While waiting, add the alum to one jar and the soda ash to the other. Be sure to label the jars.

Pour about ½ cup of boiling water into each jar. Straight stirring will be enough to dissolve the alum. The soda ash will form a crust. It will dissolve easily if it is broken up and stirred.

ILLUSTRATION BY CHARLES STEADMAN (1918)

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

A RECIPE FOR PEACH TREE PAINT /

Step 3 – Alchemy with alum and soda ash solutions Now comes the fun part! 1.

After the two solutions have cooled slightly, pour the alum into the large mason jar with the peach leaves liquid.

Next add the soda ash solution. You might see a bright chartreuse colour form like I did. Sometimes you get a drastic reaction much like when you pour vinegar over baking soda, and sometimes you don’t. Either way is okay. A precipitate—a solid—should still form.

Let it settle until you see a clear demarcation between the precipitate and the liquid.

4. Use a turkey baster to carefully draw off the liquid, taking care not to disturb the precipitate. 5.

Add more distilled water into what remains and stir.

Let it settle again and once more draw off the liquid. Keep doing this until the liquid you remove is almost clear. What you are doing is essentially washing out the excess alum and soda ash.

Step 4 – Making the pigment 1.

Pour the remaining liquid through a filter. I use a coffee filter in a funnel. This process takes time—a lot of time. Make sure all the liquid has drained through. Once it’s finished, the remaining solid is going to become the pigment.

Open up the filter carefully and place it on a few pieces of paper towel on a flat surface where it can dry for a few days. Don’t leave it in direct sunlight, as it is a “fugitive,” and it will fade.

Once it is completely dry, you can grind it using a mortar and pestle. This is what you will use to make your paint pigment.

Step 5 – Mulling pigment 1.

Start with a 1:1 ratio of pigment and binder. Make a small well in the centre of the pigment for the binder and use the small spatula to mix the two together.

Place the muller over it and gently start moving it in a small figure eight to begin the process of dispersing the pigment into the binder. Listen to the sound this makes and pay attention to how it feels. Initially, it feels like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. You will need to stop fairly often in the beginning to scrape the pigment back to centre of the mulling slab and off of the muller. Two palette knives allow you to use one to gather and the other to clean off the first spatula.

When the mixture starts to feel smoother, begin to make a larger figure eight, stopping occasionally to gather the pigment back to the centre. If the mixture starts to feel too sticky or thick, you can add a few drops of distilled water until the consistency feels smooth again. I check the pigment to see if it is ready after approximately 15 minutes, or when the sound and the feel are both smooth.

Step 6 – Paint! 4. Paint a swatch onto a piece of watercolour paper and let it dry. The test to see if it is ready is wiping the swatch with a piece of paper towel to see if any of the paint lifts. If it does, then back to mulling. If not, then you are done the mulling process and you’ve made paint! 5.

Transfer the paint to a watercolour pan or whatever you want to keep your paints in. I like to put my hand-mulled paints into a small shallow shell from the beach.

THE HANDS THAT PLANTED THE

OLIVE TREES AND THE TENACITY THAT SUSTAINS THEM WITH SHERI AND GEORGE BRAUN

PHOTO BY GEORGE BRAUN JR.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY SHAYLA BRAUN (LEFT), BRETTE LITTLE (RIGHT)

THE HANDS THAT PLANTED THE OLIVE TREES /

It was the night the first drop of emerald green oil appeared. Past midnight after days of chaos. The chaos had been winding its way through the groves of willowy trees, which, after years of slow growth, were finally bearing small green olives. Suddenly, hands were needed to pick the fruit. The buildings were unfinished, and the mill was breaking down. Everything was coming late. The family and community had to pick the fruit in the miserable, freezing cold. The pressure was on, and everyone was scrambling.

“Really, surreal is what it was. We just thought it wasn’t going to work,” says Sheri Braun, co-owner of The Olive Farm, a 15-acre grove on a 72-acre valley property with a towering mountain hovering over it all. “Because it’s gardening on the edge—really, very experimental. Still, 10 years in, it could fail.” They'd hired a tall and gregarious Italian man who’d travelled a long way to bring the too-big mill and make it work. They were advised that if the mill had been “any smaller, it’d have to work very hard to get the job done.” “Small fruit, many pits,” Guissepe said over and over as he reassembled the clogged machine time and again, just wanting to get home and away from the freezing cold. “Small fruit, many pits.” The chaotic build-up was just another challenge in

Hands in dirt, the planting of the first olive trees

the adventure of starting the first commercial olive

came after two years of preparation. They built

grove in Canada, a country known for its abundant

a greenhouse, brought in 3" starts, and repotted

varieties of maples.

several times over a year until they felt the trees were big enough to survive being transplanted outside.

Olive trees are another matter entirely.

In the meantime, they cultivated the land—picking out rocks, putting in a cover crop for the first year,

In a climate that offers too much water and too little

and ripping up the ground at a minimum of 3' deep

sun, the growing season is short for the demands

for all the rows—all to help the plants survive. When

of this crop. Still, when George and Sheri Braun

it came time to plant, they hand dug each hole for

discovered that olives would grow in a climate

each tree.

that can produce the Madrona tree and pinot noir grapes—this particular island being home to both— they thought, “What are we waiting for?” However, once the decision to go for it was made, it would be a long wait and a lot of work before the first harvest.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

THE HANDS THAT PLANTED THE OLIVE TREES /

“It is much harder work than it looked like it would be, and infinitely more time-consuming than we had anticipated,” Sheri says. Eventually after working fruitlessly for so many years, they grew tired. But that special moment on December 4, 2016, with their family gathered around the olive mill late at night—the moment when the oil came out of the separator—“That is a moment you can’t . . . ” Sheri is lost for words, trailing off with a reverential smile. “Well, it was just amazing. That most delicious oil, which our little olives produced, through all the hard work and support of family and community, well that’s a little nugget of this journey that you hold on to. It’s enough to keep the dream alive.” It was a moment a world away from their days spent strolling through the olive groves of Spain and Italy—the romance that had first inspired them. Years had passed, family members had grown, and the notion of European

living

had

long

since

faded,

but George and Sheri had never stopped dreaming. Olives were always the ultimate goal, but they tried many other crops when they bought the land. They started with grapes as they were already growing there, but they were not able to find a market for them. Then they grew fields of wheat, only to discover that there was not a single combine on the island. Cherry trees. Blueberries. Garlic. But when the time came, they were ready to shift entrepreneurial gears again. On this perfect property, they embarked on yet another adventurous business together—one which they hoped would thrive in the face of its inherent challenges.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY SHAYLA BRAUN

"What’s the big deal? We just plant them and watch them grow."

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

"Within that little bead of delicious, healthy, organic olive oil lies the very essence of adventure, love, family, and resiliency."

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY GEORGE BRAUN JR.

THE HANDS THAT PLANTED THE OLIVE TREES /

They hadn’t anticipated the level of effort and

“We’ve had tremendous support that has really

patience it would take to start an olive grove. Much

helped,”

like the olive trees themselves, however, Sheri and

encouraging us. People writing from across the

George remained hardy and resilient, even amid

country, from Europe, saying they can’t believe

their moments of doubt. “Are we nuts? Should we

what we’re doing, that it’s amazing—really positive

be doing this?” Sheri would ask, and George would

encouraging stuff. They took the time to stop and do

respond, “What’s the big deal? We just plant them

it because they cared. It’s pretty humbling,” she says.

Sheri

says.

“Really

positive

people

and watch them grow.” Beyond the day-to-day and year-to-year cycles, the Sheri admits to not having the greatest expertise

setbacks and achievements, there’s also a legacy

going in. Not having “a green thumb would be an

to consider. “I don’t know if I’m being a little over

exaggeration,” she says. “We’re learning as we go.

romantic,” Sheri says. “I just think what a beautiful

Successes and failures. Planting a field and then

place this is to be. To walk. To live. To work with the

seeing it go through the cycles and come to blossom

seasons. Of course, it would be nice for it eventually

and grow into something. It’s exciting.”

to break even,” she adds. “Maybe even make a profit. And that maybe someone in the family winds up

George does most of the hands-on labour, and Sheri

loving it as much as we do and can carry it on for

handles the business side. “He absolutely loves it,”

generations. Also, the dream is that everyone who

she says. “He’s a farmer at heart. He can be out there

wants a bottle of our olive oil can get one.”

working long days in all kinds of weather.” There were many ups and downs over the past decade—watching the olive trees grow, then tragically turn brown before their eyes and die (winter kill), then surprisingly grow back again. Years of work could go to rot just because of the fickle weather. They’ve tried to keep up as the days raced by and as the harvest required more and more helping hands. All while running other businesses to supplement their efforts. “This year was bad,” Sheri laments. “Next year will be great, though, and we’ll just keep going like that into the future.” Within that little bead of delicious, healthy, organic olive oil lies the very essence of adventure, love, family, and resiliency. An ambitious deed done for the earth, for themselves, and for top chefs worldwide whose epicures “go crazy for it,” the chefs tell Sheri and George. “We treat it much like good caviar or fine champagne,” she says. “Limited, expensive to produce, and really special.”

PHOTO BY SHAYLA BRAUN

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

STAND YOUR

GROUND

HONOURING THE HONOUR SYSTEM BY JULIE BABIY

The first time I stumbled across a

and the challenge in the modern world

farm stand was along a hiking trail in

of remembering to carry cash.

New Zealand. The locals were selling blueberries, and I was shocked that

Returning home from that inspiring

these hardworking farmers trusted

tour, I noticed a note peeking out

passersby to pay the correct change

of the money box fixed to my own

for their precious produce. I chalked

fledgling farm stand. Worried it was

it up to the culture of that country.

some complaint—about a slug found

Maybe the easygoing New Zealanders

in the salad mix or an unwashed egg—I

were more honest? This simply would

hesitated. But it was actually a colourful

not fly in Canada, I thought.

thank-you note. A family new to the area had been stopping by all summer

Years later, when my family made

and enjoying the variety of plants and

the move from the British Columbia

veggies we had on offer.

Interior to Vancouver Island, one of my regular errands became visiting a local

I fondly recalled visiting the bountiful

farm stand: a three-walled building

farm stand we frequented when we

overlooking fields, stocked with meat,

first arrived, and the value I placed on

eggs, flour, and oats. There were

the experience, not just on the delicious

valuable products tucked into fridges,

food.

freezers, and along shelves, with not a person in sight. I was elated that this

Thank you for honouring the honour

system of commerce existed in my

system. Maybe it’s an island thing.

community. We visited Salt Spring Island for the first time last year. My favourite activity was driving the roads and admiring the farm stands. I lost count around 50. These oases were unique in their size and signage, their pricing and variety.

"I was shocked that these hardworking farmers trusted passersby to pay the correct change for their precious produce."

One offered only baked goods, another was simply marketing soap. Some were empty that day, because they could be. I imagined all the islanders preparing dinners with their farm-stand purchases

PHOTO BY JENNIFER ARMSTRONG

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

MOUNTAIN VIEW BAKERY MISTY AND JAMIE WHITTAKER

Our farm stand is a dream project. We

We have been so well received by our

have worked in the food industry off

community that oftentimes it feels

and on for years, and always dreamed

surreal that our dream was also a dream

of one day owning our own hole-in-

shared by the island. We love bringing

the-wall bakery. When COVID hit and

decadent vegan food to this island and,

I was laid off from work, we started

while we are both exhausted most days

brainstorming how we could use the

running a bakery and working our day

time to make our dream come true. We

jobs again, we do not for a moment

had a spare guest room off our garage,

take for granted the success we have

and it seemed as though all the pieces

found at our little roadside bakery.

started falling into place to turn it into our bakery kitchen.

"Our farm stand is a dream project."

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTOS BY BRETTE LITTLE

(FARM) STAND YOUR GROUND /

SALT SPRING ISLAND KOMBUCHA LEA WEIR

We came up with the idea of starting a farm stand when the pandemic began to take hold and business was drying up. We lost several outlets because of closures, and we understood that people might prefer a way to purchase our kombucha that didn’t involve going into a store. I’ll admit that it also gave me a chance, in a manageable way, to live out my fantasy of having a café. For a long time, I’ve dreamed of offering to the public some of the healthy, tasty treats I love to make for my friends and family, so we also sell other goodies to go along with our kombucha.

PHOTOS BOTTOM ROW: MISTY WHITTAKER, JENNIFER ARMSTRONG, CHARLES HART

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

(FARM) STAND YOUR GROUND /

TWO ROADS FARM LAURA BUSHEIKIN

The couple who owns Two Roads Farm, Emily and Sam, are just amazing. They moved to this little island maybe seven years

ago,

and

immediately

went

about turning their former residential property into a full-time farm with several employees, greenhouses, long rows of veggies, and animals. They grow the tastiest vegetables I’ve ever eaten. Sam told me he's had conversations with other farmers to try to figure out just why their produce is so full of flavour, and figures there's something in the soil. They use organic practices, and they have huge variety—you name it, they grow it.

They’ve opened a great roadside farm stand, and they attend every farmers’ market, where regulars cheerfully line up to buy basketfuls of produce. While all this has been going on between the two of them, they’ve also: •

instigated a "pay it forward" program so islanders can help islanders

•

been active with the local agriculture association

•

partnered with various non-profit groups on food security programs

•

donated regularly to the food bank, food hamper program, etc.

•

had two kids

•

renovated their house

•

finished a PhD

•

and been active on the preschool board.

I suspect they each have identical twins, or clones even, who sleep all day and work at night, because there's no way one couple could be so productive, effective, and community-minded to boot.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTOS BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

RELOCATING THE TWO ROADS FARM STAND EMILY ANDERSON AND SAM CROOME

Our farm stand started as a bit of an in-

like the best way to continue to provide

joke, operating out of a tricky-to-find

fresh

lean-to tacked onto the back side of the

while keeping us and our employees

farm’s pack shed. The cabin that now

safe. In the past, we regularly had

houses the farm stand was built by a

people wandering through our farm

teenager in the 80s for jamming with

workspaces trying to find the lean-to!

veggies

our

community,

his band. We dragged it to its current location to make space to erect "The

We are thankful for our wonderful

BFG" (Big Friendly Greenhouse).

community, whose members stepped in to help us convert the cabin from

We weren't planning to move the stand

a leaking rat haven into a well-used

from the lean-to over to the cabin this

community space.

year, but when COVID hit, it seemed

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

PETALS WITH

PURPOSE

SEEDING THE SLOW FLOWER MOVEMENT BY SONJA ZUPANEC

PHOTOS BY BRETTE LITTLE

For the love of sweet peas It’s now been eight years since I delivered the very first order of our farm's summer flowers. The venue was a waterfront wedding on our island. I was a budding farmer-florist—anxious, excited, and completely smitten with my green thumbs as our first season in business bloomed. I was unloading crate loads of delicate floral arrangements from our little pick-up truck when a most striking woman approached me. She was

It took what seemed an eternity before she returned

mirroring my anxious enthusiasm, but for very

her gaze to me. I was mentally rehearsing how

different reasons—she wanted to see her bridal

quickly I could buy up all the flower bunches I could

bouquet right away. I felt my stomach drop into a

find and fashion something more formal in time for

space I didn’t know existed, suddenly beset by the

the ceremony. I pictured myself frantically tearing

idea that I might have underestimated the formality

open

and elegance of the occasion. Were my flowers good

rearranging stems, tying them off with a fresh

enough for this majestic creature, a stranger that

ribbon. Desperately trying to make things right for

until that moment I’d only corresponded with via

this breathtaking princess. I felt my knees buckle

email? How was I even remotely qualified to design

when tears began to well up in her eyes, and I could

a simple boutonniere, I thought, let alone a hand-

feel the words “I’m so sorry” on the tip of my tongue

tied bridal bouquet, relying on the eclectic mix of

as she looked at me and said, “I miss her so much.

flowers growing amidst our relentless sea of weeds.

It’s perfect.”

I took the bouquet and made a shaky, clumsy

I owe it all to the sweet peas, whose interspersed

transfer into her perfectly manicured hands while

inclusion had transported the bride-to-be to her

my imposter-syndrome mind raced for a game plan

recently deceased mother’s garden, where tangled

to salvage this first business encounter. I noticed

masses of the colourful blooms had once flourished.

she didn’t smile when she lowered her head into my

The absence of her mother, weighing heavily on

creation. I heard her inhale deeply.

her wedding day, had been noticeably lightened by

dozen

cellophane-wrapped

bouquets,

the intimate and intoxicating fragrance. With that, friends arrived and whisked her away to deal with other preparations for the big day, leaving me to lay out the reception centrepieces while contemplating the powerful feelings that “real” flowers can impart to the human spirit.

PHOTO BY R. JEANETTE MARTIN (LEFT), MOUSE23 (RIGHT)

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

The Growth of Slow Flowers Even

though

nobody

eating

our

floral

arrangements, cut flowers are no exception to the buy local, in-season-is-best rule. As with slow food, a slow flower (or field-to-vase) movement has been germinating across North America. My hope is that it will grow to predominate in Salish Sea island economies. More and more flower lovers, conscious consumers, and specialty florists are demanding to know how, where, and by whom their flowers are produced. For very good reasons. Since the advent of cross-continental airline travel in the 1960s, the floral industry has quite literally abandoned its roots and taken to the skies. The vast majority of cut flowers purchased in this part of the world are grown in equatorial countries with abundant sun, cheap farm labour, and lax regulations. These are then shipped in refrigerated trucks to every corner of the globe. Many of us feel it is irresponsible to continue to support the highly industrial and chemically dependent production and distribution of cut flowers. The lifecycle of a conventional cut flower devours many valuable resources: water, jet fuel, synthetic fertilizers and pesticides, and copious quantities of plastic packaging. Meanwhile, the nostalgic scents of our favourite blooms have been engineered out of the gene pool and

"As with slow food, a slow flower (or field-to-vase) movement has been germinating across North America."

replaced with stronger, longer,

and

sturdier

stems to survive the long

journeys.

The

average supermarket bouquet has travelled more than 2,300km before it lands in your vase at home. How come cut flowers—the universal symbol of delicate, natural beauty—have evolved into something so contrived and unnatural, teetering on the very edge of lifelessness? There are so many alternatives. This growing season, go in search of a better bouquet. On the next page, you'll find 10 simple tips from your friendly neighbourhood island flower farmers.

FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PETALS WITH PURPOSE /

PHOTOS BY PENNY WHITE

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

PETALS WITH PURPOSE /

SOWING SEEDS FOR BETTER BOUQUETS IN 10 STEPS

Green thumbs up. If you are a home gardener: Consider dedicating even just a wee 8'x10'

If you have a farmer-florist in your community: Chat with them and ask if they grow your

patch of sunny soil to grow cut flowers from April

favourite cut flower or if they would be willing to.

to October. High intensity flower production on a

Then commit to purchasing a few bunches when

small footprint is possible (and can be profitable)

they are at their peak beauty.

if you have ample sun (minimum six hours uninterrupted), rich soil, clean water, and a bit of gardening know-how.

If you’re giving the gift of flowers: Consider a gift certificate for a Community Supported

Agriculture (CSA) flower subscription or cut flower If you are a flower fan with no garden to call your own: Treat yourself to a weekly, monthly,

seed packets from a local farmer-florist.

local flower farmer, or specialty florist. Skip the

you favour elaborately arranged creations: 8 IfAvoid purchasing flowers mounted in floral

cellophane wrapped stems flown in from South

foam. There is nothing natural or beautiful about

America and commit to a regular parade of fresh,

a block of formaldehyde-soaked foam leaching

lush, local blooms.

into the landfill after your bouquet is done. A

or seasonal bouquet from your gardening friend,

progressive specialty florist can create amazing and If you frequent a favourite florist/flower shop:

artistic arrangements without using toxic foam,

Ask your grocery store or florist retailer to source

glue, colour spray, or artificial fragrances.

local bouquets year-round, as well as label the origin of all cut flower varieties so you can make an informed choice. It's time to place the highest value

If your community has a local farmers’ market or

agricultural

cooperative: Ask them to

expand their “buy local” promotions to include the

on local, seasonal, and sustainably grown florals. you MUST buy 4 Ifcertified organic

word flowers. A focus on food is important, but don’t roses in February: Choose when

shopping

out

forget local flowers are food for the soul.

as much as they say a multi-million-dollar global

you want to propagate floral-induced 10 Ifsmiles: Buy or arrange your own bunch of local

marketing effort has paid off. Organic certification

flowers, balance them on your head (or the head

ensures basic health and environmental standards

of someone you love), take a picture, share it, and

are being met to grow that long-stemmed rose for

pledge to buy local blooms this season.

season. Roses in February don't say “I love you”

your loved one.

If you’re hosting a special event: Commemorate it by showcasing in-season and local blooms,  and

"Local flowers are food for the soul."

let your guests know you support slow flowers.

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FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

PHOTO BY R. JEANETTE MARTIN

LIVING IN THE

Pink WITH SHARMARAY GOLDMAN PHOTOS BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

LIVING IN THE PINK /

There SharmaRay Goldman stands, in bright contrast to the lush green backdrop of the natural world around her. From head to toe, home to work, dawn to dusk, her immersion in pink has meant so much more than just the love of one colour. Curiously, “no one has ever asked me why,” she says. Delving into her story, she outlines how her transformation was brought about by several things: a simplification of life in order to shed a shopping addiction, a nurturing journey of self-love, and, above all, a desire to be in service to her—the divine mother. The conjunction occurred three years ago, she says, when her mother transitioned into the spirit world. The experience of her mother passing initiated a journey of healing and simplifying for SharmaRay, of new boundaries and wholeness, of playing and pampering, all made manifest in the colour pink. “It was a commitment to the calling of pink . . . Because my life is all about holistic arts. About the search for wholeness and coming home to myself. And in order for me to become something, I have to try it on.” So, try it on she did, and her clothes, her environment, and even her work in healing touch have remained exclusively pink ever since. “My outside world is a reflection of who I am already,” she says, summing up her epiphany in three simple words: “I am Love.” She places her hands over her heart and elaborates, “To me, pink is a

"To me, pink is a representation of unconditional love. It’s that soft mother love. It’s fluffy, it’s cotton candy, it’s sweet."

representation of unconditional love. It’s that soft mother love. It’s fluffy, it’s cotton candy, it’s sweet. It’s all in here.” It’s a gift from her mother that was completely unexpected, she says, because their relationship had always been conditional and tumultuous, filled with resentment, unmet needs, and chaos.

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"For me now, it's about finding love within rather than from others."

Pink is typically connected to princess energy, but SharmaRay views her life shift as an evolution from princess to priestess, “filled with pampering, nurturing, and being taken care of. Little girls are often drawn to me because they’re drawn to pink. For me now, it’s about finding love within rather than from others. Being sovereign to ourselves.” Here at her home, SharmaRay projects this energy into a space where she shares that love and healing with people who are drawn to it. Her Pink Pampering Palace, which started out as a mobile market stand, is now a pink cabin tucked into a lovely, forested property. “It’s a soft place,” she explains. “To be soft with myself. And when I’m that way with myself, then I can be soft with others. That’s my gift. My gift of softness.” SharmaRay blends seamlessly into the Palace, with its pink walls, pink decorations, pink sayings, and pink apparatus all around. The room smells of sage and rose. Her clients are most often those in need of touch. Seated in an old hairdressing chair, pink of course, they are blindfolded, spritzed, massaged, and washed, enlivening all their senses to bring them into a pink state of nurturing mother love. “It’s a culmination of desire to activate love in my heart,” she says, noting she always finishes her sessions in the same way. “On the count of three, I’m going to slowly remove your blindfold: One . . . two . . . three . . . welcome to a brighter world.” This giving that she offers is well balanced by her receiving. “In receiving, it’s about cultivating love inside of myself with my daily practices—being out in nature, connecting with what is alive and what is dying and what is going to seed.” Three years deep into pink, she’s begun to feel things shifting, bringing elements of red into her life. “The red is about activating my passion, my connection to the earth, my sensuality. To me, red is also a representation of earth.”

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

105

THE PINK PAMPERING PALACE

SharmaRay has every intention of holding onto

“I know that to some people, my volume might be

the pink in her life, including the Pink Pampering

too loud. But I’m not in your face. I’m in my centre,

Palace, as a place to turn to when needed. All this

and I’m boundaried. You can pull away or you can

might seem a little strange to some, but SharmaRay

be curious, because I have nothing to prove. I’m 56

seems to be at complete ease within herself.

years old now. I’ve learned that I am enough. I don’t need to measure up to somebody else’s standards.”

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FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

GABRIOLA ARTS COUNCIL

Gabriola Island Thanksgiving Studio Tour

The Studio Tour is one not to miss.

artsgabriola.ca

PHOTO BY BLAIR MANN

Gabriola Arts Council is thrilled to present the 25th Anniversary edition of the Thanksgiving Studio Tour, October 9-11, 2021 on Gabriola Island, BC. Over 70 studios open their doors to share art and conversation over three compelling days. Glass blowers, sculptors, painters, carvers, jewellers, and more.

THE FLORAL SPIRIT HOW TO MIX FOUR GARDENCHARGED COCKTAILS BY EMILY LYCOPOLUS PHOTOS BY DL ACKEN

Oh the fresh scent of a newly opened rose in spring when the world is coming out of hibernation and into bloom again! Something I didn’t realize until a

a splash to sparkling water, infusing

few years ago is that many floral

into cakes and icings, and my

scents taste exactly the way they

favourite, of course, is livening up

smell,

cocktails.

creating

even

sensual experience by stimulating both senses simultaneously.

Savour that fresh spring scent while watching a sunset on a warm

Capturing these floral scents is quite

patio . . . To savour a sip of a chilled

simple to do, through extraction

cocktail knowing that summer is

into a syrup. The sugar molecules

just around the corner . . . Life as a

bind to the scent, pulling it from

recipe developer, author, blogger,

the flower. These floral-enhanced

and olive oil sommelier—such is the

syrups can be preserved for weeks

stuff of dreams.

and used in so many ways: adding

FOLKLIFE RECIPES /

Rosemary Honey Gin Fizz Using rosemary alongside the savoury notes naturally found in gin is a combination of smells and tastes like a mossy, Pacific Northwest forest, filled with enormous trees and all the oxygen-saturated air they release. Adding honey to the rosemary syrup creates a sweetness that isn’t cloying and allows the natural oils in the rosemary to bind more effectively, creating a more concentrated flavour. 2 oz gin 1 oz rosemary honey simple syrup ½ oz egg white 2 oz club soda

"Like a mossy, Pacific Northwest forest." To Make In a cocktail shaker add the gin, rosemary honey syrup, and egg white. Stir once to combine, then top the shaker with ice cubes. Shake vigorously for one minute. Strain the contents of the cocktail shaker into a Tom Collins glass. Top with soda and serve immediately. To make rosemary honey simple syrup, place two large sprigs of rosemary (approximately 4" long) in a small saucepan with 1 cup water and ½ cup honey. Place saucepan over medium heat and stir until the honey is dissolved. Remove from heat and allow to cool with the rosemary submerged in the syrup. Let steep for six hours, then remove the rosemary and strain the syrup into a mason jar. Store in the fridge for up to two weeks.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

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"I especially love this sweet Old-Fashioned on foggy spring evenings."

Rum & Rose Old-Fashioned There is no reason for floral notes not to be added to dark spirits. Using the delicate notes of rose to complement an amber rum is my favourite way to enjoy an OldFashioned. Not quite as sharp as a bourbon or whisky base, the caramel profile found in rum is my first choice as the foundation for this cocktail. I especially love this sweet Old-Fashioned on foggy spring evenings, feeling the dampness in the air and knowing it will soon lift because warmer weather is just around the corner. 2 oz rum ½ oz rose simple syrup mandarin orange 1 large ice cube rose petal for garnish

To Make In a whisky glass, stir together the rum and rose syrup until fully combined. Carefully—using your fingers or a vegetable peeler—remove a slice of peel from the orange, leaving as much of the pith (the white of the peel) behind. Roll the peel into a tight coil to release the oils and place in the glass, allowing it to uncoil naturally. Add an ice cube and rose petal for garnish. Enjoy immediately. Making rose simple syrup is easy, but if you are gathering your own petals, make sure that they have not been sprayed. In a small saucepan, mix together 1 cup fresh rinsed wild rose petals, ¾ cup water, and 1 cup sugar. Place over medium heat and stir until the sugar has just dissolved. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep until the rose petals have lost their colour and have fully infused into the syrup, about six hours. Strain into a mason jar and store in the fridge for up to two weeks.

FOLKLIFE RECIPES /

Nasturtium Mandarin Paloma Nasturtiums are by far my favourite edible flower. Their bright peppery flavour also infuses perfectly into a syrup, which can be added to anything from crème brulée to cocktails. Here the syrup has a few extra peppercorns added to it, enhancing the spicy flavour and augmenting the floral notes from the nasturtiums. Paired classically with tequila and citrus, this tasty Paloma is a refreshed version fit for any season. 2 oz mandarin 1 oz lime ½ oz nasturtium black pepper syrup 1 oz tequila soda

"Nasturtiums are by far my favourite edible flower."

To Make Fill a glass half full with ice. Along with the nasturtium syrup, pour the mandarin and lime juice into the glass and stir to combine. Top with tequila and soda. Enjoy immediately. To make the nasturtium black pepper syrup, put 1 cup nasturtium blossoms and 2 tsp whole black peppercorns into a small saucepan with ¾ cup sugar and ¾ cup water. Place over medium-low heat and stir constantly until the sugar has dissolved, ensuring the blossoms are submerged in the syrup. Remove from heat and steep for six hours until the blossoms have lost their colour and the peppercorns are swollen and soft. Strain the syrup into a mason jar. Store in the fridge for up to two weeks.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

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FOLKLIFE COCKTAILS /

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FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

FOLKLIFE RECIPES /

Lavender Lime & Lillet Lillet, a French Aperitivo, is a blend of Bordeaux region wines steeped in sweet and bitter orange; the rosé version is quite full-bodied and complex. By adding the freshness of lime and floral notes from the lavender syrup, this cocktail is only made better by the effervescence of a dry sparkling wine. Unique and so delicious, each sip tastes like the freshness of spring. 2 oz Lillet rosé ½ oz lime juice ½ oz lavender syrup 1 oz bubbly

To Make In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, mix together the Lillet rosé, lime juice, and lavender syrup. Stir to combine and chill. Pour into a glass and top with chilled bubbly. Enjoy immediately. To make the lavender syrup, combine 2 tbsp of edible lavender buds with ½ cup water and ½ cup sugar in a small saucepan. Place over medium-low heat and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat. Let steep for six hours, until the syrup is room temperature and the lavender buds are losing their colour. Strain the syrup into a mason jar. Store in the fridge for up to two weeks.

"Unique and so delicious, each sip tastes like the freshness of spring." For more ideas, see eatcreative.ca

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

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PHOTO BY BRETTE LITTLE

FOLKLIFE RECIPES /

A FRESH TAKE ON THE

SIMPLE WHITE CAKE BY MISTY WHITTAKER

I’ve been drawn to baking ever since my

My grandma Sylvia’s birthday falls in April,

first home economics class, when we

and I used to love baking the cake that

took four simple ingredients and created

would mark the occasion. One year she

the flakiest, most delicious, addictive

requested a simple white cake, and I found

biscuits I’d ever had. From then on, I

the perfect recipe—it was even called

made baking powder biscuits pretty

“Simple White Cake.”

much every weekend for a year. Hot from the oven, slathered in butter and jam,

Everyone had gathered, and I wanted

those biscuits marked the beginning of

nothing more than to make my grandma’s

my lifelong love affair with baking.

day. I was busy in the kitchen, thinking I was following the recipe closely. The cake

There’s something magical in the science

was mixed, the batter poured, the oven

powder,

hot. In went the cake, and I tried to settle

sugar, and salt, along with just a few

in for some family time, but something

other ingredients, to create an endless

kept nagging at me. I retraced the recipe

cornucopia of cakes, biscuits, cookies,

in my mind, step by step, and then it hit

breads, rolls, and pastries. Within each,

me. I hadn’t added eggs.

combining

flour,

baking

there is a tantalizing variety of flavours, textures, shapes, and sizes.

I grabbed my sister and headed straight for the kitchen. The cake had already been

“Precise” or “methodical” are not adjectives

in the oven for 30 minutes and was well

anyone would use to describe me. Yet,

into its bake, but I had to fix this. I pulled

when it comes to baking, I’m deeply

the pans from the oven, and as quietly as

attached to the science of it, which brings

possible so as not to alert the rest of the

to mind one of my favourite memories of

family, my sister and I did the only thing

learning to bake.

I could think of: we mixed the eggs into the half-cooked cake and placed the pans back in the oven.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

115

At the ring of the timer, I pulled the cake

things. It is a joy when I’m able to recreate a

from the oven. It weighed what seemed

traditional recipe as a vegan one and have

like 2lbs. I turned it out onto the cooling

the result be just as good, if not better.

rack, and it was clear that it was no longer a simple white cake. Science had prevailed,

The recipe that follows, however, is not for

and this cake was transformed. It was now

a vegan version of a simple white cake. Just

a rich, caramelized, upside-down cake.

as my grandma concluded, cake, like life, can be full of surprises, and I’m confident

Having a supportive family like mine

that if I had the skills to bake this Bundt

meant we served that cake regardless, and

cake back then, she would have loved it for

wouldn’t you know it, my grandma loved it

her springtime birthday.

so much that every year after she asked for the same not-so-simple cake. Now, as a vegan baker, most of my experimentation relies on applying the

"Cake, like life, can be full of surprises."

science of mixing full-fat milk, dairy, and eggs, but without using any of those

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PHOTO BY MISTY WHITTAKER

FOLKLIFE RECIPES /

Lemon Bundt Cake with Sticky Lemon Glaze Cake 2 tbsp ground flaxseed + 6 tbsp water

¼ cup room temp vegan butter sticks—not soft margarine

1 cup dark brown sugar

⅓ cup non-dairy yogurt

1¾ cup all-purpose flour

¼ cup vegetable oil

1½ tsp baking powder

1 tbsp vanilla extract

1 tsp baking soda

⅔ cup unsweetened non-dairy milk

½ tsp salt

2 tbsp lemon zest

Glaze 1–2 tbsp lemon juice 2 cups icing sugar

To Make

Preheat oven to 350°F. Generously spray a Bundt pan with non-stick baking spray. Mix flax and warm water in a small bowl and set aside. Use fresh ground flaxseed if available (pre-ground can also work). You want this mixture to be fully combined and gelatinous by the time you add it to the recipe, so be sure to mix it again if it separates. In a measuring cup or bowl, add the lemon zest to the milk. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the butter into the flour mixture. Use a handheld mixer, and beat on low until it's fully incorporated and has the texture of sand. Once the flax has fully hydrated and thickened, whisk it together with the oil, non-dairy yogurt, and vanilla extract. Add this mixture to the dry ingredients. Mix until just combined. Pour in the milk and beat on medium-low until smooth. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 45–50 minutes, until the cake is set in the centre and a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool slightly in the pan, then turn out onto a serving dish to finish cooling. Meanwhile, make your glaze. Sift icing sugar into a medium bowl. Add 1 tbsp of lemon juice and whisk. You want a loose but not runny consistency—add more lemon juice if the glaze is too thick or more icing sugar if it is too thin. Aim for something about the consistency of non-dairy yogurt. While the cake is still hot, dip your whisk into the glaze and drizzle approximately half of it, mainly around the highest point on the cake, allowing the glaze to cascade down the sides, filling all the nooks and crannies. When the cake is cool you can do another pass with the remaining glaze—this time you’re aiming for looks! To finish, add more lemon zest before the glaze fully sets. Enjoy!

PHOTO BY DILYARA GARIFULLINA (TOP), MISTY WHITTAKER (BOTTOM)

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

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PRODUCTS

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119

DEALING WITH YOUR

OWN CRAP Stories from CoHo Landing, a 15-household land cooperative on Denman Island BY LAURA BUSHEIKIN

Our house sits on a pile of decomposing human feces. And much like a dragon sleeping on its pile of gold, emitting contented puffs of smoke, or a Hindu holy man sitting cross-legged on a hill of human bones and ash, deep in meditation, we’re happy with our situation.

It’s not just a casual mound of feces. It’s a well-

Eventually, we chose composting. The units are

managed pile of poop contained in a professionally

relatively affordable, fit our DIY ethic, involve

built structure that includes an airflow system with

minimal regulatory processes, and, above all,

multiple venting pipes, two collection chambers,

conserve water.

and, like any “normal” toilet, a seat with a lid, a stack of magazines, and Wi-Fi.

Groundwater is limited on the islands, whose sensitive ecosystems depend on a plentiful aquifer

Composting toilets aren’t for everyone, but for the

to survive. Approximately 30% of household

gang here at CoHo Landing, they’re an integral

water is used in flushing. That’s 9,125 litres per

part of living well on the land. When we first set

year per person, based on an average rate of five

up our land cooperative, we knew we’d have to

flushes per day using a high-efficiency unit. That’s

figure out sewage treatment, since like most

equivalent to about 90 bathtubs of water.

of the islands in the Salish Sea, Denman Island doesn’t have municipal infrastructure we could

Once we decided on a composting management

just hook up to.

system, our “poop committee” met dozens of times, eventually adopting a “poop policy” in

We spent countless hours researching septic

which each of our 15 households adheres to a few

systems: fancy eco-projects with marsh grasses

core principles: the waste is contained, there’s no

and ponds, traditional tank-and-field set-ups,

risk of leaching, the odour is managed, and other

environmental impacts, costs, regulations,

household wastewater (AKA greywater) is properly

maintenance requirements, and more.

disposed.

PHOTOS BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

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LITTLE HOUSE ON THE ISLAND COOPERATIVE /

Our family’s model works by collecting human

A compost pile is a complex colony of

waste in a concrete chamber that’s divided in two.

interconnected living beings. There are worms

We sit on the throne on top of the chamber, and

and grubs and beetles and millions of teeny tiny

when done, we add a scoop of wood chips. When

things with long names, such as actinomycetes,

one side of the chamber is at its capacity, we close

Bacillus licheniformis, Clostridium thermocelium,

the lid and move over to the other side for a few

Flavobacterium, and many other creatures.

years, while the first one continues its compost alchemy. Our venting system, which works with

Especially spiders—lots of spiders. The spiders are

differences in temperature to create optimum air

there for the food. The food is the bugs, attracted

flow, guarantees that there is no bad smell.

in droves to our decomposing waste. Venting pipes act like elevator shafts, enabling flying insects

Except when it doesn’t work. You have to remain

to come and go from the delicious, nutritious,

vigilant. A couple of years into life with our system,

hospitable pile of poop. While dining, the flies lay

it started to stink. Not as bad as some outhouses

eggs, the eggs then hatch, and on the cycle goes.

we’ve known, but a bummer nonetheless.

This renders a composter the ideal place for

We didn’t appreciate the smell, but mostly,

a spider to cast its web.

we didn’t like what it meant: something was wrong. The alchemy wasn’t happening. We needed to investigate.

"I love how composting our own waste brings us into intimate relationship with the grand cycle of life, death, and rebirth."

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PHOTO BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

LITTLE HOUSE ON THE ISLAND COOPERATIVE /

And that is exactly what we found when we investigated: spider webs so plentiful and thick that they were clogging up our venting pipes. This was easily rectified by blasting with a sharp stream of water from our garden hose. Whoosh, and it was all clean—odour gone. We do this about twice a year now, along with other maintenance tasks, such as “flattening the pile.” Naturally, as we’ve discovered, the very idea of all this fills some people with horror. I have family members who won’t visit for this reason. And during the public hearing for our project’s rezoning, one person stood up to oppose it because “the smell will be carried by wind currents to neighbouring properties, and it will be horrible!” We have an 88-acre property, and our houses are clustered more or less in the centre. In our cooperative’s 10-year existence, I’ve never heard complaints from any neighbour, near or far. In fact, our composting system fills me with joy. I love how it allows us to follow the “clean up after yourself” imperative, which is so key to human survival. I love that we’re not using precious resources or running the risk of toxic leaks, spills, or runoff. That the end result is an odourless, fertile, humus-rich product that can be used —with due care*—to build soil. I love how composting our own waste brings us into intimate relationship with the grand cycle of life, death, and rebirth. And I love how the composting "dumpster" is such a fertile source for metaphor. Classic sewage solutions are a straight line that ends when everything is sterile, devoid of life. Composting toilets work as a circle, transforming human waste by making it part of a food web— life feeding life to create more life. It’s a little bit magical, like a dragon, and a little bit mystical, like a holy man. And I get to be part of it every time I take a poop.

*The Government of BC Manual of Composting Toilet and Greywater Practice lays out specific protocols for dealing with the end product produced by composting toilets, which technically is not yet fully composted and may contain pathogens.

PHOTOS BY SWEET SEA PHOTOGRAPHY

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SUBSCRIBE TO $34 a year That’s what I call a slow movement!

folklifemag.ca

PHOTO BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

FOLKLIFE LETTERS /

THE RUSH HOUR BY JUDITH PLANT

My friend in Alberta used to be a speeder. You know, the kind of driver who regularly goes 10 to 20km/h over the speed limit, sometimes even more. But life has slowed him down, and he now makes a habit of driving 5km/h under the limit. His new bumper sticker states his case, giving the person behind him something to think about. It makes everyone smile just a little bit—even Harley-driving rednecks have been seen to nod their heads with great enthusiasm. “Slow the Folk Down” is disarming, in a positive

What if the promise of a distracted life doesn't

way. Just for a moment the very suggestion of it

give us happiness, good health, or even love? More

clears the blur of a fast-paced life. In our heart of

upsetting is the realization that selling our souls

hearts we know that there are gifts to be had if only

to a life in the fast lane might actually be causing

we would take the time to notice them. For too long

serious damage, not just to our persons but to the

we've been driven to chase the carrot that we never

natural world on which everything depends. Yes, all

quite get to eat. Go here, go there, work harder.

of our hard work just might be killing the planet.

What if this imperative is a bad idea?

Slow the Folk Down. It's a radical act!

PHOTO BY @EYE_PICTURE_YOU

WHAT ARE YOU RESTLESS FOR? CONVERSATION AT A FOLKLIFE PHOTOSHOOT WITH PETER COOK

That’s a terrifying question. How honest

I’m too much for most people. I’m just

do I really want to be?

way too much. My dad used to say, if you want to catch a feather that is floating

What I’m really restless for is a world in

down, don’t reach for it. Hold your hand

which women feel empowered enough to

underneath it and let it fall into it. “Softy

be themselves.

softy catchy monkey” is what he always followed up with because he served in the

And comfortable enough that they can allow men to bring what men have to the table without worry. And a world in which men are humble enough to be able to bring what they’re good at to the table in a supportive way. I think that I am restless for something that is very intimate and very very personal. I want a certain kind of a relationship with a woman . . . I cry at

romantic

movies

because

there’s

something deep inside me that wants to be loved and valued, but also that wants to be able to give the love that I have completely, without reservation, wholeheartedly on my fucking knees I’m yours baby. Leonard Cohen’s song, "I'm Your Man." I am your man. I'm restless for that. That’s my shelter from the storm, to quote Bob Dylan.

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FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

navy. “Don’t run at it.”

PHOTO BY DYLAN PHILLIPS

THE

BUBBLE MAN BY ALINA CERMINARA

He’s a man who shapes air. Shimmering globules

I think he may be like this—by himself—most of the

of space hover in his presence. Soapy rainbows

time. I hope I am wrong.

that start low then dance away from his hands to float past leaping children, leaving earth for sky.

Whenever I see Peter, this spirited 83-year-old gentleman, I’m overtaken by a heartfelt need

He leans forward gingerly and dips his arms

to confirm that his world is still full of joy and

into a bucket, traces of his pain emanating from

connections and life’s possibilities. But in the bustle

somewhere in his legs. Then, in one swift movement,

of life, I find I have little to offer. Perhaps it’s only

his hands fly up and out with a delicate twirl and a

a quick Saturday morning exchange as I walk by.

closing of his arms.

He leans into this conversation, his eyes lighting up amid the simple chatter of summer. I offer him the

He is forming worlds. Worlds that encircle joy.

pie I just purchased. He offers me the pure joy of

Fantastic worlds full of visionary possibilities whose

the day—the chance to offer a gift, for which I am

sole aim is to delight beings of all ages. Everyone

grateful.

has the ability to make them, he says. That’s why After months of distant pleasantries, I’ve set time

he does it.

aside to sit with him in his yard. He tells me of A child approaches, shy but curious. The Bubble Man

his past, of days spent as an underappreciated

offers up his stick-and-rope contraption. What’s

department store administrator, and of times

that? He rises from his chair and demonstrates.

when ex-wives yelled at him for all his crazy ideas

The child watches as the bubble forms in a gloopy

and shenanigans. He tells me that he once lived

circle, sails across the road, and floats high above

the #buslife, roaming West Coast markets with a

tables overflowing with vegetables and colourful

calligraphy pen and paper in hand, and with a kind

glass objects. Other globes follow in its wake, each

but sad girlfriend-turned-assistant by his side. He

filled with simple possibilities and simple joys and

smiles when he speaks of her.

simple connections. Connections between The Bubble Man and the families that join in on the fun.

There were worlds with children alive, he says. And worlds in which one is now gone.

Seeing him sitting there in his chair—sometimes with people around him, sometimes solitary—I,

When Peter moved to Canada after roaming

too, want to jump into his entrancing worlds. Or

the American coast, circles of people listened to

just be by his side. Perhaps when he’s driving past

him—actually listened to him—which had never

me, hunched over his van’s steering wheel with an

happened before then. So he made a home in this

intense squint. Or when I see him broken down in

island place. A home in which he’s pursued various

the middle of the road in a most inconvenient spot.

occupations—island calligrapher, sign maker, face

I am pulled more than ever when I catch him slowly

painter, and now Bubble Man.

packing up, alone after the market.

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FOLKLIFE MAGAZINE

I get up, thinking there’s a good chance I won’t be able to make worlds happen. These sorts of things— things done with hands—aren’t my kinds of things. I dip the shirt low into the bucket, raise it up, and move my arms as he does. But, as I expected, no delicate sphere emerges. Just a soapy mess. He coaches me. Says I have to swivel as I go, shut my A fine home, yes, but in a country where, as a visitor,

arm to close off the bubble.

he can’t afford to mend a leg that’s starting to give out. The pressure of his situation grows in his mind

Catching a fresh breath of wind, I do as he instructs.

as much as in his leg. But in this visit, between

And there it is. My new world, changing shape,

Peter and me, he rises slowly from his lawn chair,

catching the light and the summer breeze, floating

using its back for support. He says he can no longer

high on the thick air—a warped circle of life. I made

source the rope he used to make his bubble kits, so

something.

these days he’s experimenting with a piece of cloth from an old shirt. He signals me to give it a try.

PHOTO BY R. JEANETTE MARTIN

“I’ve always liked you,” he tells me.

FOLKLIFEMAG.CA / VOLUME 03. 2021

129

Don't eat so fast. When you use your sticks like scissors, you frighten the rice.

FROM ONE HUNDRED BUTTERFLIES BY PETER LEVITT PHOTO BY STASIA GARRAWAY

GULF ISLAND SEAPLANES

Oh, the places you can go . . .

PHOTO BY JESSICA WILSON

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