Retire this Indian proverb, please.

WARNING - NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH

Gilbert Bouchard's body was fished out of the North Saskatchewan river this weekend.

The writer, popular culture commentator and broadcaster had gone missing late one night in April when he went out for a walk. It was reported that Gilbert had been battling depression and had gone off his medications.

A search was organized, and posters were put up, and a FaceBook group was formed. Despite rumours of Gilbert having been spotted a couple of days after he left on his walk, there was nothing concrete until this weekend.

In the interests of full disclosure, I have been only nodding acquaintances with Gilbert for years. He was supposed to be the editor of my first book, way back in the early years of The Books Collective. After agreeing to do it, he faded from the project and he was replaced. In the ensuing years, I stumbled across Gilbert infrequently. He was focussing on visual art and popular culture commentary while I focussed on theatre and classical music.

A year and a half ago, after Gilbert wrote a particularly mean and personal review of one of my plays, someone offered an old Indian proverb: Sit on the bank of a river and wait: your enemy's corpse will soon float by.

Here, in 21st century Edmonton, that proverb had no reality. It was abstract, about karma in general, and it was said without malice - I was being told to let go of my anger, and I did. I wrote a short story titled Driving Day in which people on a happy drug travel down the river to an unknown destination, trying to pull people in with them. So the reality of Gilbert floating in the North Saskatchewan is sad and disturbing. If anything proves to me that Gilbert and I were not enemies, it is this unexpected feeling of loss: I wish Gilbert were still here, still burbling on the radio, still striding about downtown in his long black coat.

Gilbert had his own demons, and many of us were unaware of them. He revealed his excellent qualities to some people: curiosity, generosity, hard work, fun. Our community has lost a man who had passions, who sparked dialogue, and who continued to seek his own path in the world with his own kind of integrity.

I live near the river. I never want to see anyone float by under any circumstances.

Peace, Gilbert.

Moving the Hand

You'll see them inside the art galleries, sitting on a bench with their sketchpads, copying the works of the masters. These are artists learning something about their craft, learning something visceral about what it feels like to draw those lines. They are acquiring the knowledge of line and form and proportion through the act of copying.

Writers don't do enough of this. We think reading is enough. I have read the occasional how-to book that recommends actually writing out, copying, passages from excellent writers. Have I done it? Only a paragraph here and there. The more I think of it, though, the more I think it might be a good idea. You could feel the rhythm of the sentences, understand that flow in a visceral way.

The parallel to the visual art includes the fact that those people sketching are not working in the same medium - it doesn't mean they aren't learning anything. Just because I use a word processing program on a computer and not a fountain pen, quill, or an Underwood manual typewriter, doesn't mean there is nothing to be learned by typing out those passages.

It would have to be a private effort, though. Unlike the artist's sketches, the end product of the writer's exercise will look just like the original. I guess the attribution should always be at the top, in case one dies and the literary executors think these passages are those of the deceased. Or never save the files - because the value of the experience is in what you learn from the retyping, not from the rereading.

Perspective vs. Truthtelling

In the past month, I have had two situations in which I felt a former colleague was not telling the truth, and in so doing that colleague was harming my reputation - if I have one.

In one case, it was a matter of what was NOT being said. There was information posted on FaceBook which did not tell the whole story, and when people responded to the information in ways that showed they misunderstood the chain of events...the original author did nothing to correct the misunderstandings - instead choosing to write tasteful thank you notes.

In the meantime, I was getting e-mails from several other people who were puzzled by the situation (as I was). So, rather than add fuel to the controversy, I arranged to meet the former colleague for a drink. We met, and we had a really good and interesting discussion. I expressed my concerns, my colleague expressed some concerns, I pointed out what damage was being done - and I found that in fact the ramifications had not been considered. Fine; a genuine error in judgment that arose from a logical sequence of events. You could consider it a matter of perspective.

The other case is more disturbing. A writer I once worked with, and with whom I had an excellent relationship, has written some things in her blog about the publishing company I used to be a part of, the company which published one of her books.

Unfortunately, what she wrote contained material which I do not believe to be true.

When I read the material in the blog, I submitted some factual corrections - provable, concrete material. I thought perhaps the author's memory of what happened all those years ago is perhaps...unreliable. The author initially did not approve the corrections for posting, instead sending me an incendiary e-mail. My positive comment, on a separate part of the blog post, was approved. So someone could be forgiven for thinking I agree with them. When I drew this to her attention, she agreed to withdraw the positive comment as well. She also agreed to amend a couple of the points - all the while insisting that she was right, even regarding discussions to which she was not privy and I was, and threatening me with legal action unless I amended this blog.

I was once on a grant jury and thus privy to a scathing and bitter letter this colleague had written to accompany her application. I understood the source of the frustration for this colleague, and I defended her when the other members of the jury took exception to what they saw as a lack of professionalism. I fought for her, because I believed in her as an artist. Now I am more worried about whether or not there is something wrong there. Perhaps she is facing a medical issue. Or perhaps there is something else behind the anger. She flatly insisted in her e-mails that the people who disagree with her are wrong, even when I am offering reasonable proof that they could well be right.

One of the questions I have struggled with, off and on, is this: What is the relationship between the art, truth, and the artist? It was one of the themes touched on in the essay in my first book. Now, as I am faced with these situations, I must ask it again. I do know that an artist who refuses to face the consequences of his or her own actions faces a very tough road.