High school yearbooks are a treasure trove for me. Hours spent turning the pages are never wasted; there is always a new discovery, from old hairstyles to popular songs of the day.
My Grandmother lived in a small town in Quebec and had a stack of yearbooks from the late 1960s, before the high school had become the local elementary. I pored over the pages, deciding who seemed the most accomplished, who was the prettiest, who was most likely to become my Prince Charming one day. (It was W., who graduated the year I turned five!!!)
The lesson about how the first line of a composition is meant to "hook" the reader came from C.S., a senior from that school who wrote a story about a sea voyage. She mentioned the "Blue Peter" flag: meaning a voyage is about to begin. Over fifty years later, it remains one of the most brilliant openings I've ever read. (The year she graduated, C.S. declared that her ambition was to become a doctor. She fulfilled that dream, which was another lesson to me; you're never too young to know what you want.)
My own yearbooks have worn out covers, as they continue to inspire me. The candid photos, snapped spontaneously by would-be photojournalists, are references for my sketching practice, from athletes to students slouching against the walls, playing guitar in the smoking lounge. (Yes, you read correctly: we used to have smoking lounges in SCHOOL!!!)
My cousin Tracy, a treasured person in my life, has always been (and continues to be!) someone I admire. One day when we were both young, I stood enthralled, mouth agape, as she skipped Double Dutch; the blur of the ropes, the grimaces of those doing the turning--no matter how fast they turned, she somehow kept up. That's when she became a superstar in my eyes. When Tracy graduated from high school, I was still living in Montreal, so I bought the yearbook. I will, to the end of my days, be grateful to her for quoting Rabindranath Tagore. Through the choice of one powerful statement, she introduced me to the magic of World Literature.
When I graduated, the quote was an easy decision. It was Thoreau: "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
That was always me, turning in one direction when everyone else went the other. That's why having a career means nothing to me. Painting is a vocation rather than a job. (And it means I won't ever have to retire!!!)
Thank you for spending this time with me,
Lori xx