THE LEGEND OF KYRYLO

One of the most beloved pieces of art Ivaan ever made was a tryzub, or trident, which we've always called the Kyrylo.  It's named after a young man named Kyrylo Rewa, for whom Ivaan made one many years ago.  It's very distinctive, because it has the most graceful lines, it's neither tiny nor huge, and it's not flat.  In fact, it looks rather like bread dough beginning to rise.   It works well for both men and women, and the people who choose it for themselves are invariably confident, artistic and very particular about their choice of adornment.

What's also a source of wonder (at least, to me) is the route people take to acquiring a Kyrylo pendant of their own.   Apart from the Kyrylo for whom it is named, there is the "Slawko Sekunda" connection, the "Lesia Chyczij" connection and the "Adriana Buyniak" connection.  Every time these three people wear their tryzubs in public (and they seem to go out  a LOT), our telephone rings and the person on the other end says, "I want a tryzub just like Slawko/Lesia/Ada has".  Who needs to advertise when you have social butterflies wearing your art?

This week I made a couple of Kyrylo pendants in sterling silver, and as I'd recently discovered that coral comes in blue, I decided to have a Kyrylo tryzub strung on a blue coral necklace, and fastened with a toggle clasp.  I liked it so much, I then made a bracelet to match.  I'm pretty thrilled with the result. Ivaan would love it. Now I'll sit back and wonder underneath whose Christmas tree it will wind up.

Kyrylo Tryzub on Blue Coral © Estate of Ivaan Kotulsky

INKMAID ART

Our friend Emily Crown-Robinson is a wonderful artist who specializes in quill-and-ink drawings of the natural world.  They're whimsical without being cute, very detailed without being like a photograph, unique and interesting. Emily does a million things well, but she's always kind of kept her art for herself and her family.

Recently, she's been opening up a bit more to the outside world, and I asked her if we could have an exhibition of her work, Inkmaid Art, (www.inkmaidart.com) here at Atelier Ivaan.  So that's what we're doing on Friday, November 28th, from 7 till 10 p.m. - having the opening reception for her first exhibition.

Here's the poster for the exhibition:

If you're out and about in Toronto, stop by and enjoy the reception.  You can browse, shop, snack, chat, enjoy the event, and meet Emily, too.  If you're in a gift-buying mood, either for yourself or someone else,  her prices are very reasonable.  She'll have her drawings on stationery, throw pillows and suitable for wall mounting.

We're excited to be hosting our first exhibition by an artist whose work we love (apart from Ivaan's, I mean.)  And the snacks will be pretty good, too. Because Ivaan will be watching us.

THE THINGS WE LOSE: We Live In Hope

Here's the little film of my story of loss that appeared on the TTC video monitors in subway stations during the month of October, part of a video installation by LabSpace Studio, entitled The Things We Lose.  Due to the brevity of the film clip, the accompanying text makes it seem as though Ivaan had died just three days after reconnecting with the young woman in the photo.  In fact, he lived for six more years, during which time he suffered three additional strokes.  Yet he still managed to remind me regularly of the importance of finding the young woman playing the flute.
We live in hope.

GRASSLANDS

Last March I blogged about my sad experience of dining at one of my favourite restaurants, Grasslands, with friends, and realizing with horror part way through the meal that one of my beloved gold earrings was missing.  We did a really thorough search of the restaurant, the coat rack area, everywhere, but were unable to find it. I was really heartbroken.  I'd worn those earrings every day for nearly 30 years, since Ivaan had made them for me. They are as integral to me as my signature.

The following week, my friend Esmaeil made me a replacement for my lost earring.  I was thrilled to have it, but because it was new, it was less worn looking than its mate, and the clasp gripped my earlobe more tightly, meaning I needed to rotate my earrings several times a day.

Five months later, my nephew Angus and his beloved, Sara, were visiting, and we were mulling over options for dinner.  Sara mentioned that she was curious about Grasslands, as Angus, Ivor and I had dined there on New Year's Eve.  It was a brilliant suggestion.  I was telling them the tragic story of my lost earring as we drove over, and it felt creepy going in there, as I hadn't been back since that day in February.

I recognized the young woman who was maitre d' that evening, and she recognized me. She'd been our server back in February. She said, "I have something of yours."  I nearly fainted on the spot.  They'd found my earring during a thorough cleaning a few days after I'd lost it, she'd put it aside for me, but one by one, all the staff had moved on to other jobs or cities, and she was the last of the original staff, and the only one who knew me by sight. She was terrified I might come in while she was on vacation or off duty, and no one would know where my earring was stashed.

Let's just say there was a larger than usual tip left that night.  It's good to have a spare, but nothing feels as glorious as both my original earrings. I have always said I plan to be buried in Ivaan's old dressing gown, the most comfortable item of clothing on earth, but I'm inclined to think I'll sleep better if I have my earrings on as well.

Here they are. And, incidentally, Sara loved Grasslands as much as we thought she would.

IVAAN & THE CECILIA STRING QUARTET (THE QUARTET OF DOOM): THE SEQUEL

©CECILIA STRING QUARTET

On September 13, 2010 I wrote a blog post about the first time Ivaan heard the Cecilia String Quartet perform.  The Quartet was in its infancy when we first heard them in early 2005.   We'd just experienced an unimaginable tragedy and felt so broken in spirit that I'm amazed we even came up with the idea of attending a series of informal concerts  at different locations around the University of Toronto campus.

We attended the concert, Ivaan was enraptured by the performance, and when he came home he knew he wanted to present the members of the Cecilia String Quartet with pieces of his jewellery.  He chose dragonfly brooches and asked me to deliver them to the Faculty of Music along with a note from him.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the first performance of the Cecilia String Quartet.  Over the years they have become world renowned, have won impressive awards and released recordings.  For reasons I'd love to know, however, they haven't aged in the slightest.  To mark their 10th birthday, they sent an email saying they were having an informal concert in the lobby of the Edward Johnson Building (Faculty of Music) at U of T at noon today. There was absolutely zero chance I would have missed this occasion.  The timing was perfect.

The Cecilias are quite well known for their approachable manner of engaging the audience.  They often explain interesting things about the pieces they are going to play, and it's more like having friendly banter with a good friend than being educated on the finer points of the piece of music you're about to hear. They are also very funny.

After the first couple of pieces on their program, violinist Sarah Nematallah stepped up to the microphone and told a little story about the very concert at the Faculty of Law which we'd attended in early 2005.  I was seated on a bench against a wall, with people standing in front of me, when I suddenly realized that she was speaking about our concert.  She said she'd thought it wasn't a successful concert and was surprised, a few days later, to receive a package from Scott St. John, who was the Quartet's earliest mentor, containing four of Ivaan's dragonflies and his note saying how much the concert meant to us.  As she spoke, I suddenly realized all four members of the Quartet were wearing their Ivaan dragonflies.

I was so touched, my eyes filled with tears and I had to swivel round and face the wall while I composed myself.  The concert was beautiful. I know Ivaan would have been delighted by Sarah's shout-out to him.  Today, October 15th, is the 10th anniversary of the Cecilia String Quartet's first performance.  A month from today is the 10th anniversary of the death of our beloved boy, the reason we had gone to hear them play in the beginning, and I just felt we had come full circle.

I didn't stay to thank Sarah, Min, Caitlin and Rachel in person, but I'm doing that now.  And Caitlin, your joke about the want ad in the classifieds - you had me laughing!

STILL LIFE

Here are three photographs taken of my 30-second video on the TTC.  At least now I know what time I can go onto a subway platform and see myself on the silver screen.

THE THINGS WE LOSE ©2014 LAB SPACE STUDIO

Did you notice that not one person on the platform is looking at the screen? Fame is fleeting. Ten days on the subway, and already I'm a has-been.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IVAAN

Today is Ivaan's birthday. It's the start of a new decade for him.  I'll be celebrating the occasion with a dinner party in the store for a bunch of his favourite women.  I've been cooking like a fiend.  My only regret is that Ivor, our Vice President and right-hand man, will not be on hand to join in the festivities, but we'll take some photos of the fragrant Persian food I've been making, and the guests, and will send them along to him.

As usual, Ivaan's portrait will be on the wall, gazing down at us (and the food).  I know he's proud that he's left such an important legacy and that he and his art are still as much appreciated as ever, nearly six years after he departed the planet.

So, here's to you, beloved husband.  Many happy returns of the day. This photo, taken by our friend Slava in August 2008, captures Ivaan  to perfection. Happy Birthday, Ivaan.

Ivaan Kotulsky © 2008 Slava Lukashenkov