Brother Update

The Jones kids in HalifaxMy brother Caleb (the javelin thrower) has been competing in a national track circuit all summer. Last weekend he was in Halifax for the Aileen Meagher Track Classic. I drove over to watch him compete in this (plus gallery scope in Halifax - the Raymond Martin show at Studio 21 was FANTASTIC). 

And I met Canada's 2008 Olympic javelin thrower, Scott Russell. You can see from the interview that Caleb and Scott have a very serious and focused mentor-mentee relationship. And for context, Caleb is 6'2, so Scott is... daunting.

My Brother Ditched Me for Chicken Curry

My brother Caleb was home visiting last week from javelin training in Lethbridge, Alberta. His visit coincided with the Gallery Hop on Friday, timing that I initially thought was great. Caleb manned the studio for me during one of the hops in early 2010 and sold an absurd amount of paintings. I have no idea how he did it. He claimed it was boyish charm and demanded an eighty percent commission on his sales. I scoffed at that idea and bought him a panini instead.

So yes, Caleb promised to help me out for last Friday's hop. We arrived at the studio at 4:50 p.m. Opened at 5:00. Caleb demolished half a bowl of Riesens by 5:07. And at 5:15 Caleb abandoned me for chicken curry. 

How terrible is that. So in revenge I'm posting this video of Caleb, training with the solemnity befitting a future Olympian. Athletics Canada, this is your hope for 2016, fueled by Riesens and chicken curry. 

Caleb and his Workout Can Both Rot

Caleb at the World Juniors last year in Moncton. Photo by Marc Grandmaison.My brother Caleb has taken me on as his personal athletic side-project. I feel so blessed.

A bit of context here folks, just so you can have an idea of the kind of pain I've been going through: Caleb is a professional athlete - a javelin thrower, and is now training full-time with Canada's Olympic throws coach in Lethbridge. Caleb eats workouts for breakfast. Example: he busted one of the machines at our gym this week doing 550 pound leg extensions. And apparently that was just the warm-up.

Ok, context provided. So Caleb decided in October that he wanted to extend the wonderful world of athleticism to his beloved sister. And it seemed like a good idea at the time, so I agreed to submit to the workout he designed for me. And I've actually been having a decent time at it...I've been doing everything he tells me to do - all the squat thingys and lunges and etc etc etc - but then Caleb came home from Alberta for Christmas and put me through what the bugger appropriately called 'Caleb's Bootcamp'. The bootcamp sessions have now blurred in my mind (primal intuitiveness has erased them from my memory for the sake of my mental health) - but I can say, with absolute certainty, that burpees are the invention of a maniacal, sadistic and depraved human being and should be banned from civilized society. And also, Caleb is a butthead for making me do them. I couldn't stand up straight for six days.

'We're working on your CARDIOVASCULAR SYSTEM', Caleb bellowed during the workout, 'thirty more to go, SUCK IT UP PANSY.' And then I would have called him a stupid git, but I didn't have enough energy. 

Christmas Point of No Return and Unsolicited Familial Advice

Christmas is two weeks away. My paintings take two weeks to dry. I've passed the Christmas point of no return. 

The bad news. So what I have on the walls now, that's it, no more until January; let's hope it's enough. 

The good news. No more incessant Christmas business advice from my family. Mom's daily advice since October: 'Stop goofing off' 'You're going to run out before Christmas' 'Go paint [on my day off]' 'Paint more'. Sigh. My brother, Caleb's, advice (note: Caleb subscribes to the belief that he is the indisputable God-Expert-of-All-Things-Including-Sarah's-Art): 'That doesn't make any sense' 'Too colourful' 'Paint more harbour stuff' 'That boat looks like a red-fireball-bomb-explosion' 'The street shouldn't look like it has been through an earthquake', and, echoing Mom, 'You're going to run out before Christmas' with refrains of 'PAINT MORE'. Brilliant. I'm planning to issue an official Jones Gallery memorandum stating that any further unsolicited advice will be met with haughty looks and hurled objects. But like I said, unsolicited Christmas business advice should be ending soon; unsolicited summer-tourist-season-business advice starts in March, hooray.   

Typewriters, Bell Aliant reps and flying pennies

Caleb discovered the typewriter. The novelty lasted a whole five minutes.My brother Caleb came to visit the studio last week. Disaster imminent. 

Let me put this situation in context: Caleb is a big six-foot-two mega-athlete with more energy than is humanly healthy and blissfully unaware of physical space he consumes and the path of destruction he leaves in his wake.  My studio is small. With wet paintings everywhere. Oh goody.

We had the brainwave of making new artwork labels with an old typewriter I have at the studio. Caleb thought that was BRILLIANT and was entertained for a whole eight and a half minutes. A phone call from a Bell Aliant rep distracted him - he got to the phone before I did, answered with a highly professional 'Jooooones Gallery', and then decided to terrorize the rep by bellowing 'HELLLLLLOOOO!' repeatedly into the receiver. She hung up. 

Don't I look happy. This is me mid-threat. Caleb, no longer preoccupied with telemarketers or typewriters, dug some pennies out of my cash register and started shooting them across the studio. 'LOOKHOWFASTTHATWENT!' he tells me, as I envision pennies embedded in my newly finished paintings. I politely asked him to stop, underscored with a mild threat of disembowelment. 

Mom arrived just as Caleb was starting to experiment with my painting palette ('Can I paint something?!) and took him away to expend energy elsewhere. Moms are just awesome. 

Caleb's new typewritten cards