Lizzie, Alice and I went to hear the Seattle Symphony. First time in years we have been out together. It was delightful as we sat there unanimously enjoying it. I couldn't help wondering why it was that we could all meet and be lifted up in the music while had it been a picture exhibit we'd have had no shared sympathy at all. Has music something art lacks? The new art does lift one but so few understand. They refuse to be lifted. They will not go beyond the outer shell. They want the surface representation; the soul behind it they do not want and cannot feel. Surely we artists must fail somewhere. Why can't we lift the veil and reveal the soul if the musician can? Is the eye more earthy than the ear?
Emily Carr, Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr, Toronto/Vancouver, Clarke, Irwin and Company, 1966, p. 26.
PLACE: Victoria (journal writing).
TIME: Wednesday, February 4, 1931.
CIRCUMSTANCE: Reflections on a night at the symphony with her sisters.
What a tumble-up the farm was! Young chickens, rabbits, bees, children, washing, cooking, picture puzzles, picture painting, post-hole diggers, wire netting, shovels, brooms, school books and bags, lunch pails, clomping up and down stairs of hob-nail boots, groan of kitchen pump, dash of churn, hum of cream separator, and other sights and sounds and smells. And Lil's voice roaring above all the hubbub, first at this one, then at that.
Emily Carr, Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr, Toronto/Vancouver, Clarke, Irwin and Company, 1966, p. 34 - 35.
PLACE: A farm in Brackendale, beyond Squamish, B.C.
TIME: May 1933, written from memory on June 7, 1933.
CIRCUMSTANCE: En route to Pemberton from Victoria.
The little church was filled. A man, middle-aged and "middle" in every other way, muddled in an inharmonious way over the harmonium. Another middling person sang a solo, bellowing the words, "love" and "dear," with suitable volume. Nearly everyone in the audience had a child. The small ones howled and the big giggled. The parson was a stick as he squeezed from behind two small panels serving as a vestry followed by two shy boys, the groom and his man. Then the old boy at the harmonium fell upon the stops, pranced his big hands over the keys, out squeaked the wedding march and in came the bedecked little flower girls and the bride, white and pure and lovely.
Emily Carr, Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr, Toronto/Vancouver, Clarke, Irwin and Company, 1966, p. 45.
PLACE: Victoria, B.C.
TIME: July 25, 1933.
CIRCUMSTANCE: Her sister's maid's wedding.
Oh, today is awful! They started early this morning -- the Public. The beautiful cedars are dim with dust, the air is riled up with motor snorts, dog barks and children's screechings. The Elephant is beside the public road. For every two feet that pass, kicking up the dust, one nose, two eyes and one gaping mouth are thrust into the caravan. Every party has one or more dogs, every dog has many yaps.
Emily Carr, Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of Emily Carr, Toronto/Vancouver, Clarke, Irwin and Company, 1966, p. 51.
PLACE: Goldstream Flats, about 12 miles from Victoria, B.C.
TIME: Sunday, August 20, 1933.
CIRCUMSTANCE: Camping in her gypsy van, the "Elephant."