Linda Brine
9/11. A day that has changed all of our days since, knowingly or not. I remember September 11, 2001 so clearly. It was a beautiful, sunny, early fall day in Fredericton, and as I walked through the front door of the Craft College I chanced to hear something about planes and buildings. Not being a TV watcher at the time, I gleaned what I could from mainstream print media.

The horror of it was so overwhelming, shocking and awful, that I declared a personal media boycott, which was to last for several years. (Still can’t watch TV news). Yet I couldn’t escape it. Even in those early days, there were voices questioning the truth of the official version of 9/11, the veracity of reporting in the mainstream media, the psychological terror being waged through fear mongering orange alerts, red alerts, the scam of Bin Laden and weapons of mass destruction in Iraq as a rationale to justify a war for oil. Massive incompetence at best; at worst, collusion/authorization from within the White House that has led more and more voices to call for impeachment and an independent, international investigation into the events of 9/11.

Ground Zero is comprised of a pair of books that echo the architecture of the Twin Towers destroyed on 9/11.

WTC 1: 100 Questions presents a compilation of research from a number of organizations questioning the official story, including Architects and Engineers for 9/11 Truth; The Journal for Scholarly Studies and 9/11 Truth & Justice.org. These reputable scholars and critical thinkers refute the improbable cascade of ‘coincidences’ before and since 9/11, the numerous violations of the immutable laws of physics peddled by the Keane Commission, NIST, and FEMA Reports, challenge the outright lies that have been told to the world to fuel the ‘War on Terror’ and expose the ‘cover up’ of the crimes of 9/11.

WTC 2: in Memoriam remembers all those who lost their lives on 9/11. Current count: 2996. Their voices are silenced forever; it is for we the living to demand justice on their behalf.

Darren Byers
Words have never quite worked for me as a means of expression, instead it has been wood carving. The carving becomes a communication between me and the wood as I am seduced by the feeling that, maybe this time, I will be able to express the conversation clearly. These are the words not spoken; truly “Beyond Words”. So it is difficult to write about my ‘book’ which reflects my emotional journey through life; a journey which, like everyone else’s personal journey, changes direction with each choice I make.

The wood chosen for this piece is a combination of ash and butternut. The ash used for the outside cover is strong, pliable, rich in grain and emotion, and reflects our traditional past. The butternut I chose for the interior of the book shows both warmth and beauty, while evoking feelings of love. I found myself engaged in the grain and shape of the wood, expressing with every cut the emotions I felt. Please read the emotions from the wood, feel the words through touch, and listen to what it says as you explore the story for yourself. My journey is primarily a search, to discover a life of love.

I travel with many guides and teachers, some of whom are my closest friends. To them, I would like to say thanks for their guidance, patience, direction and love. To God, who is teaching me about unconditional love, thank you for the courage to share my journey with others.

Brigitte Clavette

George Fry
Growing up as an only child during the War, books were my major companions. I learned to love the intimacy and sharing with both authors and illustrators which expanded my lonely world as a non-evacuated child. Therefore when I became an art student I chose to graduate as an illustrator, with a minor in theatre design.

I have always been fascinated by the concept of creating my own books and as an adolescent I used to make elaborate “Films” which consisted of hundreds of illustrations which you turned over in sequence rather like a strip narrative.But it was really many years later, at a workshop in the College of Craft and Design, my enthusiasm was fired for one-off books, where I had control of every element from text and paper to binding and cover. I began with a simple accordion book and became fascinated by the possibility of exploring the way the pages opened becoming part of the story. This led to two more books to be followed by a peepshow. The enthusiasm caught fire with some good friends and transpired into this current exhibition.

I wanted to explore pop-ups, and as I have always enjoyed dancing I decided to create a celebration of my feelings about Dance. However, pop-ups are the very devil to do, especially if you are “engineering challenged” as I am. It was not helped by reading an expert who said that it takes about a year to create a pop-up. Inspired by masters such as Robert Sabuda and Mark Hiner, I persisted. But I think my book Dancing should be regarded as being still in the learning phase.

Toby Graser
Increasingly, as we age, we look back on our past. I started to think about my husband, who is my best friend and partner; my career as an artist; my children, grandchildren and all my other relatives; and my many friends. I thought a nice way to document some of my thoughts and memories would be to do a small project which put a lot of my ideas in one place; hence this ‘book’ which, for obvious reasons, I have titled Slices of my Life.

The ‘book’ is a two-sided affair. One side deals with my thoughts on art, and the other side deals with family and friends. Because I am a painter, and not a writer, this was a new experience for me and required a totally different approach from what I have ever done. The idea to use a format of ‘slices’ was purely accidental as I had originally decided to do a circle. That didn’t work out too well, which was great, because I like this idea much better. Selecting the photos was probably the most difficult part because I have more good friends and close relatives than I was able to include. I’m sure any of them who see this exhibit will forgive me for that. Those closest to you will always understand such things. So here it is; my ‘book’, which is really a creative work that depicts a series of cameos of my life.

Fred Harrison
“Walking through the trees in the woods is like reading the pages of a book, and when you step over a log it’s a new chapter.” (Narissa Byers, age 9).

My book project, A Punctured Garden of Verse was inspired by my childhood copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses, and is bigger than life, with the original intention, childlike, of being able to walk into the book.

I love to paint big, and I get to do that in my murals but, with exhibit space limited, I must be content to walk around the outside of it instead of through it. As a result, it represents one tree in four pages, depicting different seasons and emotions. The “talking leaves” (a reference to printed pages made by native Americans) are covered in the calligraphy of different languages that have been created to communicate. These languages, glorious in concept, end up controlling the paths of logic of entire civilizations. They are part of the stream of human activity that has resulted in the accomplishments and failures of humans in our world.

The theme of my project, inspired by Narissa’s comment, started with a sense of wonder and delight that, translated through my own experiences, has acquired cynical and bittersweet aspects as well. Too often we mindlessly follow the logic of our cultures and rob ourselves of our destinies. Being a stubborn man, and trusting the language of my pre-literate visual markings, I hope to remind myself and others that those delights of pure communication with all things, are the reality that underlies our existence.

Suzanne Hill
This book took a while to get going – what would it look like? What would it be about? The idea of “pages” between “covers” appeared practical… but what sort of pages and covers? A book about books saved my bacon. Folded paper leaves seemed interesting and do-able, as did setting them inside a cover of sorts to enclose them. But most books are about something. The intricate folds suggested a map… and I had spent some time working with maps. A map orders some aspect of reality, sorting, saving and discarding. What was I mapping this time? What would be selected and shaped into a conscious path, what left to float as superfluous to this particular journey? The quotation “wherever you go, there you are”, has always seemed useful – why not narrate a movement from HERE to THERE? That has become the story – the mapped path and, underlying it, the paths discarded, not taken.

Kathy Hooper
I draw for the same reason as I paint: to try to understand why things happen. In some ways they are like dreams, images connected by lines and colours. I have no idea what might happen when I sit down to draw: at times its almost as if I am in a trance. I may begin a body by drawing its feet or a hand, sometimes just an eye. However, as I begin, one line joins another and I am immersed in a growing story.

This book of drawings and their stories were all done in Mexico and although some of them are about being there, many are not; they are about people I have known, ideas I have about the way things are for us all. They are fairly light and I hope quite funny at times. I have loved doing them and the whole process of creating this book. How lucky I am!

Sue Hooper
I strive for a deep peace and trust in life. Nature, and my daily walk beside the Kennebecasis River, are vitally important to me, connecting me with the beauty of the wildlife, the cliffs, the water and the trees. There is a stillness and a strength when I stand amongst the trees or lean against the rock. What I learn from listening, about the wisdom and beauty in nature, fills me with awe and gratitude.

One day, I came across some gorgeous handmade printing paper that my late father, John Hooper, had tucked away in his studio. I found myself loving the meditative process of ripping leaves and sewing them together. It became a practice in “being”, in letting go; as I stilled my busy mind and my “doing” body, I could become peaceful and reflective. In this “dream time” I have had some insightful, profound experiences that have been transformational. Some words and writing, simple yet somehow significant, came out of this process and they are the basis of my Beyond Words project.

Susan Vida Judah
My inspiration for Private and Personal originated from the above quote. I was researching my husband’s Jewish heritage when I came across a reference to the mezuzah. Among the Jews, the mezuzah is a piece of parchment inscribed with Hebrew verses from the Torah (Deuteronomy vi. 4-9 and xi. 13-21), enclosed in a case and attached to the door-post in fulfillment of the mitzvah (Biblical commandment). The person affixing the mezuzah would recite a particular blessing.

My idea was to write a series of personal and private messages to each member of my family on the scrolls to be read after I depart from this world. Also included in these writings are descriptions of personal possessions which I want each of them to have in my memory.

These scrolls are then placed inside a traditional lucite case designed to hold a mezuzah and only opened after my death. On the front of each scroll is a photograph identifying the particular family member – son, daughter, grandchild, spouse, partner – to whom the scroll is directed.
Each mezuzah is held in place by coils of golden thread extending from bands of fabric which I have woven in double cloth, each band having at its ends markings symbolizing hieroglyphics. The mezuzoth lie on a piece of vellum which has five sections:
* A description of the historical nature of the Mezuzah;
* A brief outline of the heritage of the Judah family;
* Techniques used in producing this work;
* Personal reasons for creating the scrolls; and
* The Weaver, an inspirational poem I thought appropriate for this creation.

It is my intent to respect the tradition of the mezuzah while altering the content of the scroll to achieve a somewhat different purpose, yet maintaining the sense of blessing.

Elma McKay
Blind Book is a linear conversation in six segments. The six segments are a reference to the Braille language, which consists of the placement of six raised dots, to produce a script read by the fingers.

The six canvases are mounted on a backboard of contrasting colour, a system that gives visual aid by the placement of light against dark.The canvases are covered in semi-transparent Mylar with cut out circles in descending sizes. As we read left to right, this work is to be viewed left to right, with the most vision represented on the left and decreasing to a state of blindness on the right. The Mylar sheets are fixed to the canvases at the upper corners with bubble covered tacks. The clear bubbles are another helpful aid used by the visually impaired to mark a multitude of things such as the position of ON/OFF switches, calendar dates, pill containers, and even soup cans.

Each canvas represents an experience in the life of my father who, for the last twelve years, has lived with AMD, Age-related Macular Degeneration.

The first canvas, Mapped, represents spatial awareness and the ability of the visually impaired to navigate their surroundings. The notched doorframe represents misjudged steps when objects are not positioned in their proper places.

The second canvas, Meeting, represents the situation of my father meeting a group of people. Most people give their greeting without saying their name, leaving my father to wonder who he is conversing with.

The third canvas, Trust, represents my father’s experience of shopping at the market. With outstretched hands, he holds his star shaped leather wallet open for the retailer to count the money owed. Sighting currency is difficult.

The fourth canvas, Faith, represents my fathers’ leap of faith every time he crosses the road. Visually impaired pedestrians are at a disadvantage when they place themselves at the motor vehicle drivers’ judgement.

The fifth canvas, Performance, reflects the sad fact that if one is visually impaired, like my father, the seat in the front row is no better than the seat in the back row. The result is the same; he still cannot see the performance.

The final canvas, The Bus, reflects the need for all visually impaired persons to rely on others for their transportation. Having a bus service in the community helps relieve the loss of personal independence. However, the question remains, how does the visually impaired person know which bus to take?

Andrea Meeson
I have summered for over forty years in the Nova Scotia fishing village of Sandy Cove on the Digby Neck. Over the last few years I have been part of a group of talented rug hookers who work in widely different styles. I became interested in the medium as a way of telling stories. In recent years fishing has declined, and in this piece I have tried to tell a story of a disappearing way of life.

Brian Meeson
Two shapes, the leaf and the flame, together with helical movement persist in my current work. I have been influenced by the architecture of Caletrava and Scarpa; the American furniture craftsman, Wharton Esherick; the art theories of Rudolf Arnheim and William Hogarth; and the sculpture of Bernini and Andy Goldsworthy. Beyond these influences, the greatest forces in my creative life have been Antoni Gaudi and Anton Chekhov, both of whom had the patience to work through all the details that make perfection seem attainable. Having seen the beauty and perfection that others have achieved in this exhibition, and which I lack the patience and vision to match, is a humbling and exciting experience.

Leaf to Leaf is a six-page sculpture that can be “read” at several levels. Its form narrates the life cycle of wood from budding leaf through dying tree to paper. Colour depicts the movement from Spring to Fall. Leafing through a book (suggested by the sixth element), we give little thought to the trees killed for its production and our pleasure; it is a cost considered necessary for our spiritual nourishment. If only all words were necessary food for our well-being! But the insatiable human need for printed material demands industrial growth of pulpwood and the poisoning of land through the application of chemicals.

Herbicides and pesticides transfer toxins through trees; metaphorically, this unread story is told through the element of lead. Until the invention of computer software, all print was set in fonts cast in lead. What is now a metaphor for the hidden creep of industrial pollution used to be an inescapable feature of all printing.

At its simplest and most direct, Leaf to Leaf is a sculpted story, an attempt to give movement and shape to space.

Alison Murphy
Recently, Lee and I, and our daughter Lily, moved into our first home in the rural community of Upham. I spend a great deal of time exploring my new surroundings and I have discovered remnants from the people who lived and worked this land in the past.

I often wonder about their lives and the way they would have perceived this beautiful river valley. I feel as if the area has slowly been telling me its story, hinting at the lives of those who came before. Rusty old tools, glass bottles, once cared for gardens, reveal something personal and intimate about the people who also called this place home. They tell of the old steam railway that once ran through my field, of the log drivers, the mills and the farmers whose lives were all framed by this same backdrop. And I wonder too about the aboriginal communities who lived here before them and left such a soft footprint on the land.

Books, to me, encourage that same intimate connection as the reader engages with another space and time. My ‘book’ looks at the past, present, and possibly the future. It shows how the landscape is ever-present in human history, and how it has been respected, loved, manipulated, used, and sometimes abused over time. I needed to end my story with a suggestion of hope, because in Nature is the cycle of birth and restoration and I have to believe in that for Lily’s future.

John Murphy
I have been involved with Amnesty International for a long time, particularly in its effort to shed light on the human rights situation in Colombia and the plight of the families of the ‘Disappeared’. These families create simple memorials to their missing loved ones in public places, such as a stall at the local market, or on a street corner. Words are not always necessary: a shoe, a piece of jewelry or a torn shirt, says it all. My ‘book’, however, does include words borrowed from other sources. Fragments from Sidney Carter’s song Like the Snow and Colombian poet Jose Mejia’s You will not disappear, are embedded in the visual text to encapsulate the way in which the memories of those gone haunt the consciousness of those left behind. My collagraph and woodcut prints explore fragments and traces as powerful signs of irrepressible human presence. Three prayer wheels house the prints and, when turned, invite the viewer to remember, to contemplate and, perhaps, to act.

Please take a moment to read and sign the accompanying petition.

Peter Powning
I’ve been working with books and glyphs as objects for some time now with text as visual felt meaning, as opposed to read meaning. Book as iconic object.

As a visual experience, text can be freighted with something more than the graphic representation of language. It has a sense of portent without the burden of specified content, it is its own content. Think of written text in a language or glyphic form you can’t read, cuneiform perhaps, Japanese characters. Textual texture. Cultural code.

The book as object works much the same way. A book is an iconic cultural object that has its own gravitas as vessel of cultural freight even without reference to its particular content.

In this piece, Sprouting Romance on a Plate, I am engaged with the text of a Japanese novel as graphic texture and cultural trope (the romance novel), the green sprouts emerging from its fertile pages, romance served up young and green.

Karen Shackleton
When I was first invited to join this exhibition project, I was unsure of what direction I would take. I had done some bookbinding in the past and knew that I would enjoy creating the “architecture” of the book, but what would the contents be? I toyed with perhaps illustrating a favourite poem or maybe just creating a series of blank journals. Both worthy ideas but they didn’t say enough about me or my interests and passions.

I am, by choice, a visual artist and most of my work is of or related to landscape. I wanted to create a picture book. Having decided that much, the next step was to choose a theme, a reason for a series of pictures to be bound together in one volume. Picture books without text are most commonly geared towards children; could I make a more mature version of an essentially childish format?

One creature related to the landscape, especially the British and Irish landscapes I have often painted, is sheep. Over the years, I have painted many of these amusing and individual animals. The subject of sheep naturally led to the theme for the book. This is the beginning of what I hope will be a series of insomniac books.

Peter Thomas
I do not, as a rule, begin with a title for my work, and then search for an image; ideas creep up on me. They go through an extended gestation, troubling my waking and sleeping hours until a concept materializes. Another hiatus ensues, where ideas and technicalities collide; the image shrugs, shifts and changes rather as a caterpillar moves through chrysalis to butterfly. Given the time lines for this particular project, there was little opportunity for any of that, but the format offered a different opportunity: that of working communally. So sincere thanks to the other artists involved, for their valuable suggestions.

My work has two titles. The first title, And then we tell ourselves, is written sequentially on the piece in Jewish, Arabic, Sanskrit, Chinese and English. These are, more often than not, and between each other, tongues of invective, anger, domination and incomprehension. They create implacable dialogues through which we validate our otherness, our hierarchies. Yet the voices of great thought and beauty lie within these languages. When set free these may liberate us through the knowledge of our commonality.

The second title refers to this show, which is, ultimately, about art. Irrespective of discipline, art can only be defined as such when its impact is ‘beyond words’. My sculpture references the marks of human kind, from the first footprint that said we were here, to the books which have influenced societal thought. It marks some of the losses and misconceptions of our thought lines as well as the wonders of translation. The form refers to history stones; obelisks, and natural rock pillars, reflecting the stratification of story and time. Through this runs the thread of the evidence of our human passage, which is art itself.

Beyond
the mark
mask.
color sound the form
there are
no
words