WHAT WE DO

Now and again, somebody will come into ATELIER IVAAN and ask "So...what do you do here exactly?"  And though I like to think of the atelier as an understated and elegant home for some breathtakingly beautiful metal art, perhaps we're more understated than I realize.  Sometimes the antique typewriter in the window, which displays our Hours of Operation, confuses people.  Perhaps they are also misled by the paintings and photography on the walls, as I'm occasionally asked if I'd be willing to paint someone's portrait. And my baby grand piano gives some people the impression that I teach music.

I've often thought I should make better use of my space, but usually my daydreams don't go much further than thinking about opening up a massage studio in my office next door, so I can have a massage whenever I want.

But early this morning, I was in the store, chatting on the phone with my brother.  I heard someone trying to open the door of the store.  I turned and saw an elderly Asian man, with what appeared to be a pile of laundry in his arms, pulling at the door handle, then knocking when he realized the door was locked.

I went to the door, unlocked it and asked if I could help him.  He tried to hand me his armload of clothing and said, "I need my pants fixed."  I replied, "Well, we're a jewellery store.  We don't fix pants."  He got a crabby expression on his face, pointed at our sign and asked, "So why does it say ALTERATIONS IVAAN?"

I promptly emailed my friend Lesia the story, knowing she'd get a kick out of it, and she just as promptly replied (and this is why I think she's actually "one of the tribe", living undercover as a member of Toronto's Ukrainian community):

"So would it have killed you to hem his pants?"

It's at moments like this that I can feel Ivaan in here, tears of laughter just streaming down his face.

MORE OR LESS: You Be The Judge

Sometimes, it's a tough call, deciding whether to enhance a ring with gemstones.  Ivaan's art is in the metal, but just occasionally, a gemstone
adds a little kick that makes the piece attention grabbing from half a block away.  I had a couple of really sparkly diamonds here.  I decided to make a white gold ring to set them in.  Ivaan had made a couple of engagement rings in this vein - one with a very substantial diamond, one a more delicate ring. Both brides love them, and who wouldn't?

Today, I was making a ring in this style for the inventory, and I was looking rather wistfully at the unadorned ring, beside the ring I'd set with diamonds, wondering which I like better.  Here they are:

Normally, it's not a democracy here at Atelier Ivaan, but today, you get to vote.

WE ONLY MAKE TWO SIZES

FLOWER RING (c) ESTATE OF IVAAN KOTULSKY

Ivaan and his partner, Tamas, had a couple of funny lines they'd use whenever a customer came into their store and tried on a ring that was the wrong size.  For some reason, the laws of probability do not exist in the minds of jewellery buyers.  I mean, what are the chances of a complete stranger walking in off the street, trying on one single ring out of all the rings on display, and finding that it fits them?  Not very good. On the other hand, what are the chances that said customer will proceed to stare at their hand in confused bewilderment and say, "But it doesn't fit!"?  I'd say this happens every single time.
 So Tamas would growl, "We didn't know you were coming". And Ivaan would add, "We only make two sizes:  Too Big, and Too Small". If the customer burst out laughing, they knew they'd made a new friend. 


Recently, a group of old friends came by the store for a dinner party.  In case you find yourself invited to a dinner party at the store, don't miss the opportunity, because sometimes it can get pretty funny.  Perhaps my next blog post will be about one of the memorable dinner parties that have taken place in the store. On this occasion, though, it was a group of friends with whom I had worked a couple of decades previously. As it happened, one of the guests was about to be married that weekend.  After dinner, they were all amusing themselves trying on jewellery, and the bride-to-be tried on a one-of-a-kind ring just like the ring in this photo.  It's a gorgeous ring, and the only reason it's still around is because it's - you guessed it - too big.  But she loved it, and wanted to order it in her size.
 I definitely didn't want to cut this one down to size.  What to do, what to do?  So I decided to make a mould of it, make a couple of new waxes from the mould, and reduce the size in the wax.  I started with two waxes and they both came out beautifully.  So, taking this as a Sign From Above, I cast them both, and finished them.  I sent one to the bride-to-be as a wedding gift from Ivaan and me.  
And what about the other one?  You can come in and try it on, if you want.  

But I can guarantee, it'll either be Too Big or Too Small.

A GAME OF CHESS

CYRIL AND HENRY, CIRCA 2003 (c) ESTATE OF IVAAN KOTULSKY

Ivaan always wanted to take a photograph of these two men playing chess. Cyril Greenland, on the left,  is my father (and thus Ivaan's devoted father-in-law). Henry Morgentaler, on the right, is his longtime friend and frequent chess partner.  One day about ten years ago, when Dad dropped over to our house on Portland Street with Henry, Ivaan figured his moment had arrived. He loaded his Hasselblad camera with film.  I don't think he realized how seriously these men took their chess. They quickly made it clear that they didn't want a  camera shutter interrupting their concentration.  Cyril was a very superior chess player, but Henry played a ferocious game.  He didn't  lose often, and he certainly didn't lose graciously.  Ivaan didn't play  chess at all, and he wasn't remotely competitive, but he knew when he was beaten.  Cyril and Henry settled on the sofa for a chat, and Ivaan got a chance to take some photos of them in conversation.  I've occasionally been out with Henry and Cyril, and particularly from the rear, I  sometimes had difficulty figuring out who was who.  They were the same height, fairly bald, bearded, wearing glasses, they dressed alike, and they walked slowly.  In Cyril's case, it was because he didn't want Henry to lag behind.

Cyril died on New Year's Day, 2012, aged 92.  We miss him profoundly and remember him with the greatest warmth and affection.

This morning we received the sad news that Henry Morgentaler died peacefully at home, at the age of 90, with his beloved wife Arlene, and his family all around him.  I do not know if there is a Celestial Chess Board set up and waiting in The World To Come, but Henry, if there is,  Cyril has the pieces set up in preparation for your arrival.  And Ivaan has his camera loaded with film.  Those are some photos I'd love to see.  To Cyril and to Henry:  enjoy your game.  Ivaan, get a good shot and beam it back to me.

ONE LONG YEAR

Just one short week from today, we'll be celebrating our first year on Dupont Street.  Here's the invitation we sent out.  I'm ashamed to admit our record-keeping hasn't been brilliant so we're not  entirely sure who received an invitation and who didn't.  But frankly, whether there are 10 people in here or 30, it feels like a crowd.  Luckily, the revelry will continue all afternoon on June 1st, and I guess people will be popping in and out at whim.  If it's nice weather outside,  maybe we'll set up a few chairs out front so people can get a breath of fresh air.

Ivor, the VP of Atelier Ivaan, is jetting into town on Thursday evening to help organize things and attend the event. Too bad he'll have to leave on Saturday night, but I'm extremely glad he can make it.  If you come, you'll recognize him:  he's the tall, good-looking one who appears to know what he's doing.

Ivaan, my beloved, let me tell you this: owning and operating a retail store is not for the faint of heart.  It has toughened me up in many ways, but I have had lots of sage advice and inspiration along the way.  I think my favourite lesson came even before I opened our doors to the public for the first time.  I had just taken delivery of my POS terminal, on which credit and debit card purchases are processed.  I'm not afraid of technology whatsoever; I just don't like it.  I was fretting to my friend Tatiana, the owner of Pimlico Design Gallery, from whom I bought this building, about my inability to operate a POS terminal.  She listened patiently for a while, and finally said, "Eya, even STUPID people can use those things."

That put things in perspective!  I laughed my head off, and in fact although my first customer had to help me process his transaction, after that I was an expert.  Ivaan, I know you thought I was a genius before, but you'd be even more proud of me now.  And you would love this place.  So don't forget to make an appearance on June 1st.  Because there will be food.

STANDING SIX (feet tall)

IVAAN KOTULSKY, by Daniel P. Izzard (c) 2002

Ivaan's portrait is hanging in the window of Atelier Ivaan at present.  I like it there; it's very eye catching.  He's  standing in a very take-charge pose, and coincidentally he's exactly six feet tall.  That's a perfect example of art imitating life.

This evening, I was in the back of the store, in the dark, just gazing out the window.  I'd have been invisible to passersby.

A young woman was walking her bicycle along the sidewalk past Atelier Ivaan. She looked up at this handsome guy standing in the window with his arms folded, nodded at him and smiled, then continued on her way.  Three steps later, she suddenly stopped and backed up.  Glancing at the handsome guy again, she realized she'd just nodded and smiled at a portrait, and just burst out laughing.

Standing in the back of the store, though she couldn't see me, I couldn't help laughing too.  He's pretty easy on the eyes.

In the world of criminal justice, there is an expression, "standing six", which means "acting as a lookout".  I love to know that Ivaan is  standing six over me and his little empire, here at Atelier Ivaan.          

THE DAY BIRNAM WOOD ADVANCED ON ATELIER IVAAN

One of the peculiar things about owning Atelier Ivaan is that our building occupies the entire lot. We're attached to the neighbouring buildings on both sides, and at the front and rear our building continues right up to the lot line. So not a blade of grass, not a dandelion, not a tree grows anywhere at Atelier Ivaan. It's a glorious spring day today, and this afternoon I found myself thinking that if I am going to enjoy communing with nature, I'd better head over to the cemetery for a visit.

This thought had barely registered when a van pulled up outside our building. Seconds later, the lower half of a young man approached the front door.   His upper half reminded me of Scene V from Shakespeare's Macbeth, wherein Macbeth says:

           'Fear not, till Birnam wood
            Do come to Dunsinane': and now a wood
            Comes toward Dunsinane...

It truly looked as though Birnam Wood were advancing on Atelier Ivaan. The floral basket pictured above - an entire lush garden - completely concealed the upper half of the young man.  He could barely make it through our front door.  He asked if I were Eya, which I conceded I was, although if he'd asked if I were Lady Macbeth I would probably have conceded that too.  That's how astonished I was.

I am rarely at a loss for words, but I could barely stammer out the question, "Who is this from?".  The young man's face emerged from behind the basket as he lowered it to the table.  Looking visibly relieved, he said "Oh, there's a card attached.  Enjoy it!" and departed.

I stood there for a few moments in awe.  Then I peered around the other side of this glorious arrangement and found an envelope, from which I extracted a handwritten note.

Now, there is a coincidence that hit me as I read the note, because Shakespeare played an additional part in the story behind this fabulous garden.  The story began on May 14, 1967 when Chatelaine Magazine dispatched a young Ivaan to Stratford, Ontario to photograph a handsome English actor named Alan Bates, who was being interviewed for Chatelaine by a very bright, talented young woman whose star was ascending with considerable velocity in the world of Canadian journalism and broadcasting. This young woman, whom we'll call Barbara Frum, wrote very much as she spoke: with disarming humour and warmth, coupled with a fierce intelligence. Although she looked like a stylish university freshman, she was in fact already married, with two young children.  Her interview with Alan Bates was clearly a hit with the actor, because he included it on his website, where it still resides today.  Bates was performing at the Stratford Shakespearean Festival that summer - although I don't know if he was playing Macbeth.  Barbara clearly won him over, being smart enough to have brought along a picnic of steak sandwiches and danish pastries. And we all know the way to a heartthrob's heart is through his stomach.

Ivaan enjoyed photographing the pair of them, and thought that the photographs were sufficiently important that six years later he climbed into a dumpster to retrieve them, when Maclean Hunter Publishing disbanded its in-house photographic studio and unceremoniously disposed of the entire archive of photographs.  Ivaan kept those photographs for 40 years.

I recently contacted Barbara Frum's daughter, Linda, to ask if she would like to have these photos of her late mother.  After all, she and her brother had been with their mother that day at Stratford, and Alan Bates had spent part of the afternoon helping to fish them out of the Avon River.  Linda responded immediately with warm enthusiasm.  I dropped them off for her this morning....and this afternoon I received this magnificent gift from her, along with her handwritten note, which I will treasure.

I keep looking over at it, wondering if it's possible that a squirrel or two is lurking in Birnam Wood.  It's that big.  Thank you, Linda.