Sunday, 6 July 1997, 10:27 am, Vancouver, BC
Thursday morning began drafting the editorial profile, for various requirements, including the Editors’ Association hotline.
It being good weather for a change I walked round the entire Seawall in the afternoon, and, upon returning, began work on the program proposals for the West End Community Centre. This work went very well, and I suspended it only to go to Sylvia Borda’s opening at the Catrina Jeffries Gallery on Granville at 15th.
It was an innocuously small affair, with bottles of Chilean wine. Sylvia’s material was derived from the same type of juxtaposed illuminations as she had placed in her Richmond show. The other six artists’ work was not especially interesting: two in oils, three photographers, one in plastic media — even so soon later I am not entirely certain of the disposition, as little impression was made on me. I stayed for half an hour, and then left, encountering Sylvia on the street just as I was pulling away in my car. We chatted briefly through the open car window, at curbside. She was resplendently, deliberately artistic in black with purple, and silver tassels, her hair long but pulled back, her brown eyes twinkling. A striking elf with far more than elfin purpose.
I then completed the program proposals to WECC, and sent them off. This took till the middle of the afternoon.
This morning, Gloria up early again to watch the Wimbledon finals — this morning the men’s singles, yesterday the women’s. Over breakfast I read some management material, and afterwards read further in Machiavelli’s The Prince.