{"id":5300,"date":"2014-07-04T00:02:56","date_gmt":"2014-07-04T07:02:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/?p=5300"},"modified":"2014-07-02T14:05:23","modified_gmt":"2014-07-02T21:05:23","slug":"melanie-fogells-paintings-inspire-imagination","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/2014\/07\/04\/melanie-fogells-paintings-inspire-imagination\/","title":{"rendered":"Melanie Fogell\u2019s paintings inspire imagination"},"content":{"rendered":"

Melanie Fogell\u2019s paintings inspired the story told here. (photo by Olga Livshin)<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The solo show Illuminated Forests by Melanie Fogell is on display at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery until July 27. As I wandered through the gallery, surrounded by Fogell\u2019s paintings, I felt as if I were in a varicolored forest, alive with stories. Stories grew between the majestic trees, flitted among the rustling leaves and dozed under the evergreens.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Tia guided her wheelchair into the park. The dappled leaves whispered above her head, green and pink and pretty, smelling of sunlight. She resented them. Nothing should be that beautiful, while she was stuck in this ugly chair. After a single brief glance around, she stared sullenly ahead, into the shimmering, fragrant air. She found it oppressive. An hour outside, as the doctor prescribed, and she would head back home, into her room, where no beautiful things waited.<\/p>\n

A gasp to her left caused her finger to jerk on the control stick, and her chair lurched forward. No matter how she detested the forest\u2019s loveliness, she didn\u2019t want to run anyone down. When she stopped and looked for the source of the noise, she saw an old woman in a wheelchair. The woman\u2019s silver hair surrounded a pale wrinkled face like snowy lace.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi,\u201d the woman said. \u201cYou startled me, dear. How romantic. Two wheelchairs meeting in a park. Almost a love story.\u201d She smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing romantic,\u201d Tia blurted. \u201cAnd nothing to smile about. Definitely not a love story.\u201d Tears sprang up, despite her attempt to suppress them. \u201cStupid,\u201d she muttered, her fingers tightening on the controller.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t go,\u201d the woman said. \u201cIt\u2019s lonely here. Would you tell me about yourself? Was it an accident? I\u2019m Alice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Tia.\u201d Tia nodded stiffly. Alice looked truly interested. Why not? She had to kill the next hour anyway. She started talking. She was in a car, with her friend driving, and a drunk driver rammed his van into them.<\/p>\n

Both her friend and the drunken jerk ended up dead, leaving her alive to deal with mangled legs.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey are broken in a gazillion places.\u201d She kept a sob inside by sheer willpower. \u201cI was a dancer. Now, I\u2019m \u2026 a cripple. The doctor said I might walk again, eventually, after another surgery. I\u2019ll probably always limp. No dancing for sure.\u201d This time, a sob escaped.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you got lucky,\u201d Alice said calmly. \u201cYou survived.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLucky, ha!\u201d Tia swore loudly, daring Alice to disapprove. She would never have said anything so rude before her accident, but now, she didn\u2019t care. Rudeness even made a perverted sense. It helped her not to cry.<\/p>\n

Alice nodded. \u201cGood idea.\u201d Then, she too swore, very creatively. \u201cThe trees absorb our anger and hurts,\u201d she said. \u201cThey heal us. With obscenities, we pour out our pain, bury it. It\u2019s like verbal manure.\u201d<\/p>\n

Surprised, Tia laughed. \u201cYou think so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Now, inhale the sweet air. Take in the goodness.\u201d Alice looked expectant, waiting.<\/p>\n

Tia shrugged. Inhaled. Alice was right, the forest smelled good. It smelled of living things, of dreams.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow swear again,\u201d Alice said. \u201cRepeat after me.\u201d The following string of descriptive verbal abuse made Tia laugh aloud for the first time since the accident. She dutifully repeated the words, wincing only a little.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, dear. Do you feel better? I have to go back now, so I\u2019ll have to turn here, at this intersection, but we\u2019ll meet again, right?\u201d She reversed her chair and met Tia\u2019s eyes. \u201cI hope you\u2019ll walk soon. Bye, Tia.\u201d Alice brushed her thin fingers across Tia\u2019s hand, and then rolled away into the gold and green mosaic of the foliage, vanishing behind a bend in the greenery. The lower branches swayed in her wake, a bird trilled overhead.<\/p>\n

\u201cBye, Alice,\u201d Tia said. She did feel better. Only later, after returning home, she realized that she didn\u2019t even thank Alice.<\/p>\n

She visited the park every day afterwards, watching the trees and the light change with the season, feeling her pain draining away. She never met Alice again. The next surgery went well, and she healed quickly. After a couple months of grueling physiotherapy, she started limping on her own feet. The doctor said the limp would fade in time. No dancing, of course, but walking felt good. She would find Alice and say thank you.<\/p>\n

The autumn forest overflowed with color, reds and greens and yellows of every shade. The fallen leaves bounced under her shoes. Alice would love it, she thought. But when Tia entered the nursing home on the other side of the park, Alice wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe died in the spring,\u201d said the receptionist. \u201cAre you Tia?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Tia breathed.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe left something for you. She was an artist.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a small painting, a forest in spring: leaves and sunlight embracing each other in a quiet melody of green and amber and peach, singing of hope.<\/p>\n

Olga Livshin<\/strong> is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at olgagodim@gmail.com<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Melanie Fogell\u2019s paintings inspired the story told here. (photo by Olga Livshin) The solo show Illuminated Forests by Melanie Fogell is on display at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery until July 27. As I wandered through the gallery, surrounded by Fogell\u2019s paintings, I felt as if I were in a varicolored forest, alive with […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":5278,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[989],"tags":[1471,1470],"class_list":["post-5300","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-visual-arts","tag-illuminated-forests","tag-melanie-fogell"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":8}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5300","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5300"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5300\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5300"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5300"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5300"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}