One of the best things about having a blog is that I get to rave about the people I think are remarkable. One of these people is jewelry artist Anne M. Kelly who will debut two exciting new lines at the upcoming Out of Hand Craft Fair on November 20 — 22 at The Crystal Garden in Victoria BC.

Anne, who truly is one of the West Coast’s best kept secrets, creates high-demand original pieces of jewelry, each with its own unique story. Because Anne is a published poet, the stories that come with the jewelry are works of art in themselves. Her two newest collections include a Native Species line featuring Shibuichi Roughskin Newts, and a Timorphic line created from pure repurposed aerospace titanium.

The Roughskin Newt Pendant is created using an ancient Japanese alloy made of pure silver and copper called Shibuichi. This metal was traditionally used in decorative and functional Samurai sword guards, called tsuba, which prevented the sword-wielding hand from slipping onto the blade.

Titanium cuff with silver clasp by Anne. M. Kelly

The Timorphic line, created from the material of space shuttles and deep-sea exploration uses historical chain mail weaves to create jewelry that is almost fabric-like. With silky texture and feather-light weight. The result is some of the most luxuriously wearable, glamourous jewelry you’ve ever experienced. With its ancient patterns and a futuristic edge, Anne refers to it as jewelry a time traveler might wear.

Anne is not just content with creating beautiful things — she likes her work to make a difference. That’s why part of all sales of her Native Species jewelry sales will be donated to conservation of native species and habitat and will also generate microloans to the world’s most impoverished women through http://www.kiva.org.

I own several pieces of jewelry by Anne. Whenever I wear them, I am usually surrounded by women and men who want to know about the artist. I met Anne almost 20 years ago when we were both in a poetry salon with poet Robin Skelton. I became fast friends with this beautiful and talented woman who, with her New Orleans background, always brings an intriguing sense of the exotic to any gathering.

Japanese Lace Collar with Nine Row Earrings and Semispherica by Anne M. Kelly

In the 1990s a car accident changed Anne’s life. Following several years of rehabilitation and adaptation, she combined her distinctive style of graphic design with a love of fashion and natural history to create her first collection of jewelry. Watching her work is like watching alchemy — each piece she creates is imbued with such story and magic that is would be difficult not to feel magical each time you wear a piece of her jewelry. If the goddess incarnated, no doubt she would want to wear Anne M. Kelly jewelry.

Anne is a contributor to Chain Mail Jewelry: Contemporary Designs from Classic Techniques, published by Lark Books. Her jewelry is sold in The Avenue on Oak Bay Avenue in Victoria, at Mattick’s Farm Gallery in Saanich, and by private commission.

You can also see her work this weekend (November 20–22) at the Out of Hand Craft Fair, Booth #17, The Crystal Gardens in Victoria, BC, or on her website http://www.annemkelllydesigns.com.

U2’s music has been with me through a lot of my life — births, celebrations, deaths, dances, epiphanies. Their music takes me to the same place I go when I’m writing poetry — the almost-undefinable, magical place where the poetry gets lift off and seems to write itself.

I’d like to think I’m different in some way from all the other U2 fans, but the truth is I’m just one of millions, unlikely to ever to meet Bono.

But last night in Vancouver’s BC Place, I did get to go up on stage with U2 as a small part of the band’s amazing 360 tour for their latest album No Line on the Horizon, which is fast becoming one of my favourites.

My story starts when I applied to volunteer for One.org, the global advocacy organization and campaign. Co-founded by Bono and other campaigners, One.org’s mission is to fight against extreme poverty and preventable diseases. The campaign has helped focus much-needed world attention on Africa’s plight in particular.

About 30 of us were chosen to volunteer and to spend the hours before the show asking concert-goers to add their voices to One.org’s two million other members (no, there was no money involved). As a special surprise for the volunteers, One’s energetic volunteer coordinator Matt announced we would not only get to watch the show from inside the circle, we would be in the show.

The plan was for us to join many of U2’s crew onstage during the song “Walk On”, an evocative, haunting song dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, a 64-old Burmese woman who has been under military house arrest for 14 years. In 1990, she was elected Prime Minister by 59% of the vote but her detention by the junta stopped her from taking office. She is still imprisoned.

We were to walk out onto the outer ring surrounding centre stage, each holding up a mask imprinted with the likeness of Aung San Suu Kyi — then turn and face the audience.

As we got ready for our entrance, I could not believe I was about to face 50,000 people. Then I heard the opening notes to “Walk On” and I held back tears. The song, with its lyrics “…all that you can’t leave behind…”, brought back the entire past year to me. I had watched my Mom die of lung cancer, taking with her the only thing she couldn’t leave behind — love. At least I truly hope that’s what she took with her.

I stepped onto the stage thinking not only of Aung San Suu Kyi but also of my Mom, now free of the prison of her pain. I felt like she was watching me there. And, ok, I thought of my best friend and my brother who were sitting at the back of the stadium beside the seat I would have occupied. There was a wee bit of guilt there for me.

Walking on that stage was a moment I’ll never forget, with the bass and drums thrumming, the clear, soaring sound of Edge’s guitar and Bono’s voice, so magically familiar.

I couldn’t see the band, but I briefly experienced what it must be like to see through their eyes — to look out at thousands and thousands of people with their hands raised in solidarity to human rights and the oneness that is possible when hearts and minds unite.

As we left the stage (trying to walk straight on the catwalk with the masks still held to our faces) I caught a glimpse of Bono in the shadows. Then it was over and we were back by the stage for the rest of the concert, having the time of our lives and rediscovering why these guys are the world’s best band.

Thank you to One.org for an amazing experience. I would have gladly volunteered anyhow (but, wow, what an unforgettable surprise!). One.org has shown that the Internet is a powerful tool for peacefully holding politicians accountable  and raising awareness of some of the most critical issues of our time. Protest in our times is alive and well —  on the web as well as in the streets.

Talking to people before the concert last night and signing them up was an enlightening experience in itself. People open up about what they cared about in the world, and what their hopes and fears about the future were. We are all more alike than different.

It’s easy to be cynical but it’s far more courageous to be hopeful, so thank you, U2, for the music and the message.

Our great group of One.org volunteers (me and Chris are second and third from the right).

Whenever our economy goes into a slump, arts funding always seems to come under the knife. It’s like the arts are some kind of cancer to be extracted by the political scalpel.

These cuts have happened federally in Canada to the tune of $45 million (and no, Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s piano playing doesn’t make up for it). They have also happened in British Columbia. Our poorly named BC Ministry of Tourism, Culture and the Arts will apparently cut 50% this coming year from arts funding, 90% in 2011, and 91%-94% the following year. According to The Hook, the cuts pulled funding from the Association of Book Publishers of British Columbia ($45,000), BC BookWorld ($31,000) and the BC Association of Magazine Publishers ($20,000).

Some people have asked, “Why should I have to pay for arts funding? I don’t read much. I never go to the theatre.” My answer to that is that I haven’t been to provincial parks in a while but I still see the value in funding them. Whether we are discussing arts or the environment, it is vital to look beyond our own lives and realize the impact on the greater good.

I’ve heard people say, “In a capitalist society, shouldn’t the amount someone is willing to pay dictate the true value of a work?” Tell it to Vivaldi who died poor on the streets of Vienna after his patron, the Church, abandoned him. Tell that to Gwendolyn MacEwen, one of Canada’s greatest poets. This two-time Governor General’s Award winner died in poverty. Imagine a world without the legacy of Vivaldi or MacEwen. We would be lesser for it.

At one time, fortunate artists may have had patrons to help support their work. Certainly Beethoven did, as did Michelangelo who received funding from several popes as well as the House of Medici, Italy’s first family of Renaissance arts and architecture. In fact, the Medicis were responsible for the majority of Florentine art during their years in political power. True, Michelangelo often cursed them, but without their funding he would not have had the funds to purchase his precious marble. Imagine a world without the art of Michelangelo?

Today, government has largely assumed the role of the patron in Canada but it is clear that this patron does not see the value of arts to our culture. It does not see that support for the arts is essential to our evolution as a people. Arts nourish our ability to appreciate other people’s points of view and to stimulate intelligent thought and discussion. The arts also nourish our economies and boost tourism. Would Paris be as compelling to visit without the Louvre? Would New York be the same without Broadway? It always amazes me that Canadians will travel far and wide in search of great art and architecture, yet the arts are sadly not well supported here at home.

In terms of arts funding, I know of no artist in Canada who has become wealthy on this funding alone. Believe me, the starving artist is alive and well in our country. They create because they are born to create. Indeed, they are compelled to do so. They enrich us all through their work. In his speech to the Federal-Provincial Culture Ministers Conference in Halifax in 2004, Simon Brault, then-head of the Canada Council for the Arts, perfectly captured the role of the artist in our society.

“These artists do their work, often without worrying about its direct and indirect impacts. This work is of value in itself, and we cannot, nor should we, “instrumentalize” artists for economic or social purposes, however worthy they may be. But it is our job to place this work in context and to show how it contributes to the well-being of individuals and communities. Now more than ever, arts and culture appear as the key to three basic skills: learning to be, learning to know and learning to live together.

We must do more to support our artists, to fully recognize their status, to provide high quality training at the initial and professional development levels, to ensure they are fairly compensated and to protect and celebrate their creative freedom.”

That speech was five years ago. What a shame the government did not listen and has chosen a short sighted approach. William Gibson, author of Necromancer, wrote, “As a futurist, someone with some experience in long-range scenario-based corporate and municipal planning, I’ve seen my share of jaw-droppingly shortsighted proposals. But these proposed cuts to support for the arts in BC (almost 90% by 2011) really take the cake. This is governance guaranteed to rot the fabric of our province’s future…”

In 1956, John F. Kennedy spoke at Harvard University about the arts.  I only wish I could find such inspiration from Prime Minister Stephen Harper or Premier Gordon Campbell. John F. Kennedy said:

“When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. If more politicians knew poetry, and more poets knew politics, I am convinced the world would be a little better place in which to live.”

In defending the arts, perhaps the poets are learning politics. When will the politicians learn poetry?

Photo by Ashley Rose, Creative Commons

Today the rain started. It could have been worse. They predicted hail for Victoria. I woke up this morning in an amazing mood to a sunny fall day: head clear, full of energy, ready for anything. By 3 p.m., my mood greyed with the sky and by 4 p.m. I was downright despondent when the rain came.

Since moving to the West Coast of British Columbia 22 years ago, I’ve considered myself a weather victim. A few years ago I had to admit it —  I suffered from SAD (Seasonal Effective Disorder). If I could move to the desert I would, but love has a way of making us do crazy things. For love, I live in a rain forest.

This winter I am determined to improve my outlook — I will not be a weather victim. Besides, complaining about the weather is boring. I vow to use my sun lamp. I invest in a beautiful umbrella. I look for poems about rain to help me discover the beauty in it.

Here’s one from J. Patrick Lewis: “I puddle up the neighbourhood/I make the mailman mad/I wake the worm and spank the frog/ Sleeping on his lily pad.” Hmmm, spanking frogs? Sounds a bit obscene. Cute, but it doesn’t really help me.

Here’s another: “It’s raining, it’s pouring/ the old man is snoring./ Went to bed and bumped his head/ and didn’t get up in the morning.” See what I mean? It’s not easy to feel good about the rain. Besides, this poem scared the hell out of me when I was a kid. I was sure old men died when it rained.

I try again. Anne Sexton writes: “The rain drums down like red ants/
each bouncing off my window/The ants are in great pain/ and they cry out as they hit…”

Ok, this poetry thing is not working.

I turn to science. Somehow it helps me to know that rain falls at the speed of 22 miles an hour. Now that’s admirable. And when I consider the fact that many women and children in Africa spend four to five hours a day just searching for water, it humbles me.

Tonight, the windows are wet with rain, and I hear it on my roof. It doesn’t sounds like dying red ants (with all respect to Anne Sexton). In fact, I can’t think of a metaphor or simile for it. It just is what it is and I’ll have to make my peace with it.