Next Stop Oblivion

It simply won't be possible to release this latest painting "Next Stop Oblivion", without offering the viewer an explanation of it.  I've thought about leaving its origins shrouded in mystery, allowing people to try to figure out what exactly is going on.  But I realize this is fundamentally unfair, as the contents will simply be nonsensical without an explanation from the artist (that's me!).  So here goes:

My father died in the fall of 2013.  A few months before that, in July of that year, he embarked on what he must have known would be his last journey out east from his home in B.C.  His time on earth was coming to an end, and if you knew my father, he simply would not be going quietly into that gentle night.

He had struggled with bi-polar disorder all his life, though it was never discovered that this was at the core of his erratic personality changes until his mid-seventies.  From teenage onward he had been an on-again (mostly), off-again drinker as a way to self-medicate.  His bi-polar had been mostly under control in his final years thanks to genuine medication.  But in the early summer of 2013 I could sense, simply by his demeanor on the phone, that another manic phase was coming on.  For the past few months he had been rapidly losing weight and suspected that he might be suffering from colon cancer, the very same thing that had claimed his own father at exactly the same age.  He was bound and determined to get on a train  and come out east despite being relatively feeble by then and of dubious mental state. 

There was simply no stopping him.  His partner Margaret (who had put up with untold grief by then) ultimately dropped him off in Penticton, with no verification that he would even get on the train.  And so for four days we lost radio contact with him, left to only speculate if he was even on his way or not. 

The family, filled with anticipatory dread of the visit from Hell, girded itself during that time.  Like many things in life, the tension in that build-up period proved to be worse than the event itself.  

He showed up on a Friday morning, spent a few days in Toronto smoking and drinking in a motel room and entertaining us with a series of relentless rambles.  He then moved off to Ottawa for a few days, and caught up with family members and some old cronies before ultimately returning to BC.  A few months later, on November 1, 2013, he died from complications of cancer surgery. 

My dad and me the last time we were together.

There was much chatter about that four day train trip in the post mortem of my dad's final days.  My brother Ross (also a painter) and I, in particular, mused about the symbolic/literary quality of that final ride.  And so from our conversations, the painting "Next Stop Oblivion" became something one of us needed to paint.  

My initial sketch for "Next Stop Oblivion"

Who's Who?

There are four central characters and one peripheral one in the scene.  

The Conductor:

He's the peripheral character in the painting and serves two very simple functions.  The very fact that he is a conductor helps to establish that we are on a train.  And his railway lamp provides the dramatic side-lighting that illuminates the scene.  

My Father:

On no level whatsoever was my father the 'conventional dad'.  This is how I eulogized him the day he died:   Member of Parliament for the Northwest Territories...travelling by bushplane and at times, dogsled. Ran Stanfield's campaign against "Trudeaumania" in 1968. Befriended and helped a rookie MP named Lincoln Alexander. On a first-name basis with a half dozen Prime Ministers. One of the first to ring the alarm bell over residential schools. Purchased Louis Riel's diary. Key figure in many negotiations for aboriginal rights over the years. Drinker. Partier. Still the funniest guy in the room at his 80th birthday, when he received the Queen's Diamond Jubilee medal.

Stanfield, my Dad, Lincoln Alexander and Diefenbaker all in one pic. Maple Leaf Gardens 1967.

The Wolf of Time:

The Wolf of Time was a creature of my dad's own creation.  Essentially, he is the Grim Reaper but in animal form.  My dad liked to invoke him whenever he would be on about issues of mortality, as if life was ultimately a futile attempt to stay ahead of the wolf.  So, when describing a person who was getting near the end of their days, he would often say things like "She's not dead yet, but she can see the Wolf of Time in her rear view mirror".  Or, "He can feel the Wolf of Time snapping at his ass".  Dad always knew it would one day come down to him and the wolf.  

King Lear:

As Lear descended into madness late in life, he was ultimately cut adrift by family and wandered into a storm.  The former great king could no longer do more than rage against the elements.  

Cyrano de Bergerac:

Poet, actor, duelist.  As quick with a quip as he was with his sword.  Himself too bizarre of appearance to get the girl, but the perfect guy to feed lines to those more socially palatable.  There's elements of dad in this character.  My dad by no means was a homely man, but his wild nature made him better as a back-room guy, providing the well turned speeches of many a leader of his day.  He wrote for notables like the Pope and Prime Minister Mulroney, especially when the topic was aboriginal affairs.     

 

And then there's the various objects that are key to the scene: 

The Dead Man's hand:

It is said in Western American folklore, that when Wild Bill Hickok was shot at the poker table, he was clutching a hand that included the two black aces and eights.  The veracity of this claim is somewhat in dispute, as many legendary anecdotes are, but regardless black aces and eights has subsequently come to be known as "The Dead Man's Hand".  Of course this had to be the hand my dad held...and as good a hand as it may be, no match for the Wolf who holds a royal flush.  

The snowstorm:  

"Oblivion" or death is represented by a blinding snowstorm outside the window of the train.  As close to 'nothingness' as weather gets...no light, no colour, no warmth.  His trip was actually in summer but that doesn't suit the painting's theme.  

I sometimes wonder if "Next Stop Oblivion" is a somewhat callous and grim way to pay pictorial tribute to my deceased father.  But I also think he would approve of it over some romanticized and ultimately... dishonest...portrayal.  My dad understood, perhaps better than most, the ironies and sometimes bitter realities of our existence.  That this painting of his last great ride has a literary/epic quality to it I think would suit him just fine.  The destination "Oblivion" was ultimately reached, as it always is, but it was also a hell of a ride to get there.