BUOY l'Été / Summer 2013

A Literary Arts Journal • Un journal artistique et littéraire

Volume 4, Issue 2 : THE ARTISTS volume 4, numéro 2 : LES ARTISTES

Buoy l’été 20132

DES RÉDACTEURS / FROM THE EDITORS

G�� C��: He gets irritated when asked if he is a writer, he isn't. He's an artiste! Heenjoys humour, fine wines and stinky cheeses much to his doctor's lament.

L�� C��: I have been a poet since the age five. Art has always been a part of my life. Ihave been influenced by Ukrainian culture.

N�� N�� M�� E��: I am an artist. I love to draw and paint. As far back as I canremember, I would say the age of 11, I was drawing and painting pictures. I would paint themas close as possible to the original, putting in all the details as I went along. So you see, theperfect picture to me is a very colourful one.S�� M��: J’aime peindre des marchés du Mexique parce qu’ils sont intemporelles,colorés, pleins d’odeurs et de saveurs avec ses fruits, ses fleurs et tous ses gens qui se donnentrendez-vous quotidiennement.F�� M��: Moi, je viens du Bas Saint Laurent. Je suis le huitième du famille de neufenfants. J'ai une formation en comptabilité. Je demeure à Montréal depuis plus de trois ans.

J�� M��: Hi, Judy Minderman here, 52, lives in Montreal. Member of ForwardHouse for about 12 years. Suffer with depression and anxiety since a very young age. Bullied asa child; art brings me out of my depressions and I also enjoy reading and computers and adorenature.P�� P��-V��: Je suis une personne sympathique et enjoué. Je veux medébrouiller dans la vie et concrétiser de nouveaux défis. Pour moi, la vie ce n’est pas facile caril y a toujours des obstacles, mais ces contraintes ont toujours une solution èa toute.N�� S��: Nick is a lover of colour, who enjoys penguin humour (cold venues andall), writing about things that are funny and moving things around so they look good.D�� S��: Dave is an artist, poet, writer and community activist. He’s interested inhelping the community and making his friends happy.C�� Z��: Celina has been writing poetry since 2005 but she has been writingsongs since she was eight and a half.

Dans les pages suivantes, vous allez explorer l'art et l'écriture représentant chacun desartistes présentés. Dans la même voie, voici un aperçu sur chacun des membres de l'équipeéditoriale. / In the following pages you will see art and writng that represents its creator insome way. In that spirit, here is a bit abut each of the members of the editorial team.

COVER: Jean-Christophe Tourenne, Unfinished Beauty, painting

3Buoy Summer 2013

ÉCRITURE/WRITING IMAGES/IMAGESCover Jean-Christophe Tourenne /

Unfinished BeautyDes rédacteurs / From the Editors 2

Contenu / Contents 34 Dave Smaill / Hunting Season5 Dave Smaill / Serene Winter Scene6 Al McCorquodale / The Bear

Nelly Roffé / Casablanca 7Bob Mennie / Dots 8

9 Charmaine Bastien / The Eye10 Sean Cahill / Masks

Sean Cahill / Nature vivante 11Chris ‘Speed’ Dubiel / My Medication,

My Meditation 12-13

Robert Cuttle / Bi Polar 1415 Robert Cuttle / Pierre E. Trudeau16 Noel Neil Marlon Evans / The Bowl

Howard Freed / To Tell the Truth 17-18Lesia Charko / Part of Me 19

Celina Zimmerman / Love Losses 2021 Renée Drouin / City Lights

22-23 Patrice Boyer / Détente intérieure24 Renée Drouin / Birds at Sunset

Dana M. Friend / La petite étoile dunord 25

26-27 Gilles Chiasson / Anti-GravitySusana Marquez / sans titre 28

29 Susana Marquez / sans titre30 Susana Marquez / Marche dans la nuit

Cynthia Jean Chukly / Point of View 31-32Richard Diraddo / What It’s 33

Francis Marquis / Le jeu de l’amour 3435 Nick Serjeantson / Flower Power

Nick Serjeantson / Rusty in the Head 36-37 Nick Serjeantson / Monument TimeEster Cabrita / Holy, Holy, Holy 38-39

Submissions / Ad / Thanks 40-41Bios 42

43 Judy Minderman / Rhino Sleeping

44 Judy Minderman / Barn Owl on TreeStump

CONTENU/CONTENTS


Dave Smaill, Hunting Season, ink drawing

5Buoy Summer 2013

Dave Smaill, Serene Winter Scene, ink drawing

Buoy l’été 20136 Angel Colours, digital art, by Judy MindermanAl McCorquodale, The Bear, drawing

7Buoy Summer 2013

NELLY ROFFÉCasablanca

Dans ma ville maritimeodeurs d’embrunbrume lourde le soirqui monte des plagesla nuit une oasisoù d’emblée j’entre

La Cornicheesplanade du bord de merma préféréeprise de photosen habits traditionnelscostumes des années 50silhouette porteuse de gestesd’un autre âgesur mon film noir et blanc.

La Corniche encore :à ma gaucheroches sorties du sablefalaises de craie denteléeà ma droiterochers immenses en contrebasou nous nous cachionsRégine, Luna Mary et moipour manger des oursinsà l’abri des regards et des dardsdu soleil

Ce sentiment de légèreté!la mer m’enivreson odeur m’exaltejamais nulle partcette réverbération de l’airsur le sol chauffé à blancpaysage de toute ma viecelle des miensport marocain qui m’a mise au monde.


BOB MENNIEDots

You must look very closely For now I will show you The dots.

In that face Of the runny-nosed child crying Blink thousands All in straight straight lines like An army at attention

BlackwhitewhiteWhiteblackblackblack

BlackblackwhiteblackblackblackBlackwhiteblackblackblackblackblack

Blackblackblackblackblackblackblackblack

From their ranks Emerge the gaping bullet holes White trickling black And that child as pale as a corpse He is clinging to.

You must look very closely For all that surrounds you The dots

Arranged the dotsRandom of the dead living

Assembled timeless in the patternsOf forever armies like bullet holes spray

The random dots across the emptiness patterns Gray.

9Buoy Summer 2013Charmaine Bastien, The Eye, painting

Buoy l’été 201310 Sean Cahill, Faces, Oil PastelSean Cahill, Masks, oil pastel

11Buoy Summer 2013

SEAN CAHILLNature vivante

Votre prunelle souriante fait rougir mon coeur de fraiseset la chute de vos cheveux me précipite à vos lèvres;mais je me retiens et contemple votre paysage.

Les fleurs réfléchissent tout haut vos rayons de parfum sur ce gazon tendre.Votre pied caresse la terre, toute brune et toute fraîcheet l'enfant tout petit, tout nu, butine à votre sein d'abeille.

Que vous êtes belle, vêtue de soleil et d'ombre.Le vent vous enveloppe de ses chauds tissus d'ocre,le chêne habille vos fleurs de ses feuilleset la montagne,couchée, prend votre forme.

Effluve du printemps, à la nature vous rendez hommage.


CHRISTOPHER “SPEED” DUBIELMy Medication, My Meditation

I bring my medication everywhere I goLeaves me with a glow.I meditate on it day and night,Bring it to the lord in prayer.

Just don’t sit and stare no moreClimb up the chain till I’m shackled.Play with fire, bleed another bust.It comes to rustWhen all the dust settles down.I’ve been this train wreck too many a time.

As I have to trustI’ve surrendered to the HeavensBecame a member,My name written in the book of life.Sunny is everyday.There’s no more mental anguish,Days spent mulling in strife.


I’ve got a message to bring to the world.New songs to singAll year is spring.Take it on a pair of wings and fly.

I read the good news all the timeShed tears joyfully every now and then.Jesus breaks my heart, mends it a newFew understand its fair weatherA touch of a feather.

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I bring my medication everywhere I go;Leaves me with a glow.I meditate on it day and night,Bring it to the lord in prayer.

I fast to give my time to the Lord,I have a blastA whole cast of new friendsNow that I’ve put up my mastSail in heavenly directions.

My body’s not my own.Everything in my possession a loan from above.I’m in this world but not of this worldHeaven’s my future.



ROBERT CUTTLEBi Polar

Bi polar has its ups and downsBut through it all, creativity I found

I’ve been an artist all my lifeCreating paintings to end my strife,

I’ve seen the worst and the best, I guessYou can say I’ve been put to the test.

Interesting people I have metThe rich, the poor, I seem to get.

Throughout my life I’ve had some bluesMusic and art always got me through.

Being a Libra I’ve found joy,Spreading my talent given to me as a boy.

Without my meds I do become high.It’s a mystery in my brain but why?Research has improved my meds

And I’ve learned to cope with the side effects they’ve leadAll in all I’ve tried my best

When Bi polar put me to the test.

15Buoy Summer 2013

Robert Cuttle, Pierre E. Trudeau, painting

Buoy l’été 201316 Church Doors, photograph, by Judy Minderman

16

Noel Neil Marlon Evans, The Bowl, painting

17Buoy Summer 2013

Ring. “Hello?”“Bobby?”“Yeah.”“It’s Mark. I just spotted twoplainclothes cops with three Satan’sChoice members wheeling theirchoppers. I think they’re headed yourway.”“Thanks” Bobby said, and replacedthe receiver and faced his guests. Onewas missing. “Where’s Max?”“I think he’s in the bathroom,” Don,Max’s younger brother said. Max wasindeed in the bathroom. He wentover to the sink which was filthy withhair. He rinsed his hands anyway andreturned to the living room.

Company“We’ve got to get out of here. Thereare a couple of cops and some Choicemembers on their way here.” Thereason for their haste was that Bobbyhad three keys of hash wrapped inmuslin: one stamped with threecrowns, one with three dragons, anda third with three lions. Bobby wasn’tworried about the bikers. He knewthem and preferred them to the f’ncops. There was a third guest inBobby’s apartment, and that wasDon’s friend Dennis Shore.

Satan’s ChoiceMax thought it was no wonder theywere Satan’s Choice. They were thebest the city had to offer, and the onlyreal rebels in town. He too preferred

them to the cops. Max also knew thatSatan’s wouldn’t get them. This, forthe reason that, unbeknownst tomost bikers, “From the time of Johnthe Baptist until now, (and it’s stillnow), the Kingdom of Heaven allowsviolence. The violent take it by force.”

Fortunately you don’t need to knowyou are taking the Kingdom ofHeaven by force. You simply must besufficiently violent and sufficientlyrighteous to do so. You take theKingdom of Heaven by force while inthis world, and not in the grave, or upin the sky.

A Heavy Oak DoorThere was neither time, norwhereabouts, to hide the hash, so thefour of them left Bobby’s place andclosed the heavy, solid oak door,three inches thick, behind them. Thedoor couldn’t be forced and, unlessthe cops had a search warrant, whichwas highly unlikely, the hash wassafe. They found themselves onground level behind the three storybuilding just around the corner from

HOWARD FREEDTo Tell the Truth

“The reason for theirhaste was that Bobbyhad three keys ofhash wrapped inmuslin…”


soapstone bowl and a long bamboostem. Once again, the cop asked eachof them, in turn, if the pipe was theirs.Each said no.“Then I guess it’s mine. I’m going toput it on my mantelpiece.”“May I see some identification?” Maxasked the cop, and the cop gave it tohim. “William Lisacheck.” Max said,loud enough for everyone to hear.“William Lisak.” The cop correctedhim. Max looked down at the cardagain.“It says here William Lisacheck.” Thecop shut up and Max returned his ID.

The Green BikeNow the cop turned his attention tothe green girl’s bicycle with its blackleather saddlebag parked nearby.“Who’s bike is this?”There was a long tense silence.“It’s mine,” Max said finally. “Are weunder arrest?”“No.”“Then why are you detaining us?”Max demanded.“We’re not detaining you,” said thecop with the flashlight.“Then we are free to go?”“You’re free to go,” the same cop said,and with that, they walked away.The remaining seven headed back upthe alley too, Max and the seniorbiker in the lead.“Is this really your bike?” the Choicemember asked Max.“No. It belongs to a sister. I said it wasmine in case somebody stashedsomething on it. I didn’t want her toget into any trouble.”The biker slapped him on the back.“You’re all right Cohen.”

an alley leading out to the street. Theheart of Montreal is the mountain:Mount Royal. Some Montrealersbelieve the top of the mountain is theilluminated cross. Some believe it isthe CBC antenna. In fact, it is neither.It is the pump house. This is logicalin as much as the pump house, thehighest point in the city, pumps waterup from the nearby reservoir and letsgravity feed it to the whole city.Bobby’s place was on a direct linewith the pump house. If there wasn’ta ‘Pumphouse Gang,’ there should be.

Just then, the cops and the bikersrounded the corner. One of thedetectives led the pack. The other,holding a flashlight, brought up therear. “What’s your name?” he askedeach of them in turn. The Choicemembers had already beenquestioned.“Max Cohen.”“Don Cohen.”“Dennis Shore.”“Robert Mackeral.”The detective then turned hisattention to the heavy mat in front ofthe door for no apparent reason,perhaps checking for a key. Insteadhe found a hash pipe with a small

“Just then, the cops andthe bikers rounded the

corner. One of thedetectives led the pack.

The other, holding aflashlight, brought up

the rear.”

19Buoy Summer 2013

LESIA CHARKOPart of Me

My hairMy beauty

Its age is starting to showOh no!

Those greys need to goThe colour I chooseIs the colour I feel

RaptureHow cool

My long hair blowing in the windGood hair day?Bad hair day?

Let it beShow your hair

What it could beBefore there is no more of it to be


CELINA ZIMMERMANLove Losses

I’ve had love losses,Friends –2 close friends –one to death –and other friendship,and a parent –my mom –due to death, also.

Love lossesLove lossesToo many losses,One after anotherToo many losses,almost more than I can bear.

But a shining starsaved me.This starcontinuously helps meThis staris my love gain.

Love losses, love lossesLove gainOne took the place ofmanyOne shining star.

CENTRE: Patrice Boyer, Détente intérieure, huile

21Buoy Summer 2013 Power and Light, digital art, by Judy MindermanRenée Drouin, City Lights, acylic


23Buoy Summer 2013


Renée Drouin, Birds at Sunset, acylic

25Buoy Summer 2013

DANA M. FRIENDLa petite étoile du Nord

Petite étoile du Nord,tu vois la vie et la mort

toute seulesans gueule ni voix,

et qu’est-ce-que tu en penses,…des souffrances

et les ames en pénitence?Tu as certainement du chagrin!

mais tu n’as pas de mains,et qu’est-ce-que tu peux faire?

La vie, tu nous l’éclaire!


27Buoy Summer 2013


SUSANA MARQUEZsans titre

Avec mes gènes communs aux Amérindiens, ma peau est cuivrée, dorée parle soleil de mon enfance.J’ai l’esprit libre comme l’air des montagnes que j’ai escaladées avec mononcle Armando. Cet homme juste, que j'admire, m’a montré la droiture aumilieu de l’iniquité dans un monde en chaos.Comme Don Quijote de la Manche, une grande partie de ma vie, j’aipoursuivi un idéal fou : mériter d’être aimée par toi maman!La peur de vivre mon chemin sans ta main, m’a fait croire que je suis restéel’enfant fragile et sans défense de ces temps-là.Alors, je me retire loin de celle que j’aime, parce que je sens le mal quil’habite. Je suis confuse, je crois que c’est de ma faute, j’ai honte de moi, et jesouffre! Je crois mériter toutes les peines! J’ai peur de toi, de moi, de la vie! Jeme déteste! Je me dis que c'est écrit dans ma destinée: je ne mérite pas d’êtreaimée!Loin de mes bourreaux, en terre généreuse, comme immigrée je m’épanouis.En m'amusant avec l’argile, où tous les éléments de la nature interviennent :la terre, l’eau, le vent et le feu. Je me sens en harmonie et sereine pour lapremière fois de ma triste vie. Je sens que la terre m’accepte. Je me laissealler, je me sens en sécurité et confiante.Plus tard, quand je joue à imiter les couleurs des reflets de la lumière irisée,que j’expérimente diverses techniques, textures et couleurs appliquées sur latoile, la peinture se montre à moi majestueuse. Elle me permet de créer lelien entre mon conscient et mon subconscient. Elle illumine mon âme, je mesens bénie, graciée. Elle m’apprend la patience, à observer, à m’aventurer, àavoir du courage, à être humble, à réfléchir, à respecter la matière, à êtrehonnête et rester vraie. A être moi. C’est le seul temps où je me sens bien dans mon corps, lucide dans monesprit. Je suis persuadée que j’ai une place ici sur terre et que j’ai un lien avecl’univers.A l’époque de mon enfance, l’éducation était plus sévère. Heureusement queles temps changent et que la société évolue.Maintenant, pouvoir m’exprimer par les mots me fait découvrir une partie enmoi qui est puissante, qui est quasiment sacrée : mon cœur d’enfant, qui mepermet de m’aimer et de m’accepter telle que je suis. De m'ouvrir à messemblables, d’aimer ma vie, mes enfants, mes ami(e)s, mes chats, ma famillequi est au loin. Je suis vraiment reconnaissante du cosmos.

29Buoy Summer 2013Susana Marquez, sans titre, sculpture


Susana Marquez, Marche dans la nuit, peinture

31Buoy Summer 2013

CYNTHIA JEAN CHUKLYPoint of View

Between the sunsetAnd the sunriseThe sky above

The ground belowTrapped inside of me

Many expressionsSmiles and frowns

Another day, no dollarFor a cup of coffee

For some hopeless soul,No home to go to

No friend to turn toAngel, where have you gone?Why do you ignore my pain?For help, here in this place,Of lost souls seeking help

Often lost and misunderstoodby others.

Outside the colourfulleaves have fallen

Leaving barren brancheson blackened trees.Soon there will be

a slight dustingof snow on the ground.

The wind is approaching us;our breath gasping.Miracles are waiting

beneath the snowy ground.The moon is shining

its dimming light,Heading our wayover the pathways

To our hidden souls.The city lights sparkle

like diamonds.Spread out below us,


And the darkness,turns into light.

A brand new day is dawning;A new beginning, perhaps?

The emptiness I feeloverwhelms me inside,

time after time.But I will discover

a new path, just waitingFor me, outside of this placeTo overcome my indifference

And confusion, forming circlesin my brain.

33Buoy Summer 2013

RICHARD DIRADDOWhat It’s

Is it becauseInside out everywhereEveryone is itAnd then,Know what you needWant everythingNo one is hereBefore youIs it what you, did it?Ask why, who is it?Don't question itNeed.Fall into placeSilence speaks soundsShapes fall to the groundFunny,Laughing, laughterAt it allThinking all the whileSilence.


FRANCIS MARQUISLe jeu de l'amour

Le jeu de l'amourse dévoile à l'attraitde tout son aspectà ce qui en détour

Le jeu de la séductionse fascine au contextede tout son prétexteà ce qui en disposition

Le jeu de la jalousiese prédomine à l'enviabilitéde tout son objectivitéà ce qui en frénésie

Le jeu du flirtse présente en convivialitéde tout son irréductibilitéà ce qui en précepte

Le jeu de la sexualitése distingue de l'originalitéde toute sa sociabilitéà ce qui en priorité

35Buoy Summer 2013Nick Serjeantson, Flower Power, photo


NICK SERJEANTSONRusty in the Head

I’m a little rusty in the head,my friend sitting beside me said.I raised an eyebrow,I turned my eye,to observe her headand wonder why,rust was in there,why her brain was rustysince actuallyit’s alwaysbeen pretty trusty,that rust does notin a head reside;since iron in the brainis not in abundance.Unless of course my friendhad overdone her iron,had overdone her supplements,taking too many,taking too much,filling herself with iron and such.

My friend eyed me,she eyed me back,and smiledas if she could seethe trackof my thoughtsas they movedthrough my mindabout the rustshe had mentionedthe rust she had talked of,inside her head,upon her brain,rusty red, inside her head.Then she gave me a hug,and jogged off to the Y,

37Buoy Summer 2013

and so I sat and imagined a scenefrom the wizard of ozwhere rust could reallybe the causeof the phrase my friend had saidI’m a little rusty in the head!

I’m a little rusty in the headthe Tinman to the lion said,as they meandereddown the yellow brick roadtoward the Tinman’s tin abode;in the Emerald city,in the green metropolis,in the place from which Dorothy followedsaid yellow road,toward a witches' dark abode,through a dark forest,through spooky trees,filled with lions and tigers and bears, oh my,lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

Nick Serjeantson, Monument Time, photo


ESTER CABRITAHoly, Holy, Holy

Getting ready for your First Com-munion requires much preparation.It seemed to me the most importantpart was confessing my worst mortalsins. Doing such would surely prepareme to receive the body of Christ.

Broken tablesWith that in mind I asked my parentshow many times I had broken theliving room coffee table. It wasn’t verysturdy at the best of times and thelegs had been glued many times.Breaking the table required mydizzily running around the livingroom using up some of my neverending energy.

I would also have to remember howmany times I had not gone to SundayMass. A big part of First Communionalso required beautiful clothes. Onpayday Saturdays Mama would takeme to the specialty store and wouldbuy some part of my costume. Iremember coming back with white

shoes, white stockings, a white hatand veil, white gloves and the piecede resistance my white dress.

Unimpressed boyWe had Communion Day practice afew times with the girls on one sideand the boys on the other. The fellowI was paired with was not impressedwith me at all and didn’t find mepretty. On Communion Sunday whenI was all dressed up he was impressed.So, at this point I had my revenge andtold him it was too little too late. Afterthe ceremony was over we wereinvited to the basement hall wherethere was chocolate milk and cookiesfor everyone. It was a good day.

Communion giftA few weeks later would be ourConfirmation. Even though we wereonly six years old with ourConfirmation we were reaffirming thevows that we had at baptism. Wewere true Christians and Catholicsand responsible for all that entailed.My parents bought me a beautifulprayer book as a Communion gift andI still have it to this day. I trulytreasure it.I was very happy to be a Catholic.

Lent bed makingAs the season of Lent began we weretold at school that it would be goodto either do something for Lent orgive up something that we liked.

“The fellow I was pairedwith was not impressed

with me … when I was alldressed up he was

impressed. So, … I hadmy revenge and told himit was too little too late.”

39Buoy Summer 2013

while. It became part of my rotationof altars.

A new coat?During a winter confession I told thepriest of not going to Sunday Mass.He told me that now that I had a nicewarm coat there was no reason tomiss Sunday Mass. I realized that hemust be mistaking me for anothergirl. I never had a problem withinappropriate clothes. My mothermade sure that I was always nattilyand weather appropriately dressed.

Unworthy choir girlDuring the time that I was part of thechoir all the choir girls went toreceive Communion during Mass. Iwould never go to receive com-munion as I felt unworthy to receivethe body of Christ. When I explained,she said that none of the other girlswere better than I . I felt consoled.

Looking back now at my religiousupbringing I realize how the timeswere so different from today. It wasan innocent and simple time. If wetried today to feel more for those whoinhabit this world with us we justmight find that `he ain`t heavy, he`smy brother. ‘

“If we … feel more forthose who inhabit thisworld with us we justmight find that ‘he ain’theavy, he’s mybrother.’”

Personally, I hated making my bed inthe morning. This was not an easything for me at all. I made a scheduleon which I would make a check markin the morning after having done the“dastardly deed”. My mother noticedthat I was making my bed and she washappy. I’m sure that she thoughtreligion was doing me good. Un-fortunately, after Lent I went back tomy old habit of no bed making. Butnow, I always make my bed in themorning. There is nothing quite asbad as going to bed at night in anunmade bed.

MaryThe month of May is the time tohonour Mary, the mother of Jesus. Ihad a strong feeling for Mary. Themonth of May is also my birth month.During the month of May I wouldmake a decorative altar to Mary. Sincethere were May flowers at this timeof year I would adorn Mother Mary’saltar with seasonal flowers.

Religion classDuring elementary school we had areligion class where we would learnabout all things holy and moral. InGrade 6 I had the highest mark inreligion for the year. At the PTAmeeting at the end of the year I wasto go up on the stage with the otherprize winners and receive my prizefor Religion. It was the priest whogave me my gift and I rememberthinking that he must remember myconfessions. He must certainly knowwhat a sinner and impostor I was.Nonetheless, the religious statue Ireceived was treasured for quite a

Appel aux soumissionsVOLUME 5, NUMERO 1: LE BIEN-ÊTRE

QU'EST CE QUE BUOY? Pour Maureen Dugan, une collaboratrice du numéro initial deBuoy, la créativité agit comme un gilet de sauvetage. De ses très belles peintures à ce sujet,nous en avons tiré le nom du journal. Depuis le premier numéro, Buoy est devenu une formed’exutoire artistique pour de nombreuses personnes, leur permettant de partager leurschemins créatifs tout en explorant un thème précis.

QUE VOULONS-NOUS? Être bien ou ne pas être bien? Là est la question! La thématiquedu septième numéro de Buoy est le bien-être. Nous sommes à la recherche de vos noblesexplorations du royaume de ce qui vous plaît ou vous fait souffrir. Qu’est ce qui vous libèreet vous aide à garder votre équilibre? Est-ce Fido ou la phyllo (phyllo comme pâte feuilletéen pâtisserie ou philo comme pour philosophie?)?Est-ce d’écrire de la fiction fantaisistepour ce numéro? Ou plutôt faire de l’art ou jouer de la musique? Qu’est-ce qui vous gardeen forme mentalement et physiquement? Faites-nous en part à travers vos dessins, bandesdessinés, essais littéraires, proses courtes, recettes, rap, poésie et tableaux.

POUR SOUMETTRE: Pour contribuer : Contactez Vanessa Sparks par téléphone au 514-488-9119 ou par courriel à [email protected]. Veuillez soumettre du contenuéléctronique dans la langue de votre choix et vos coordonnées. Visitezwww.maisonlesetapes.org pour plus d’information

DATE LIMITE: 7 OCTOBRE, 2013

A Call for SubmissionsVOLUME 5, ISSUE 1: WELL BEING

WHAT’S BUOY? For Maureen Dugan, a contributor to the inaugural issue of Buoy,creativity is a life jacket, and because of her beautiful paintings of that subject, we decidedto adopt Buoy as the name for our journal. Since that first issue, Buoy has become a creativeoutlet for many people, allowing them to share their creative pursuits while exploring aspecific theme.

WHAT DO WE WANT? Well, to be well, or not to be well, that is the question. The themefor the seventh issue of Buoy is Well Being, and we are looking for your noble explorationsinto the realm of that which makes you feel good or torments you. What liberates you andkeeps you balanced? Is it Fido or phyllo? Is it writing fantasy fiction for this issue of Buoy? Isit art or playing music? What keeps you physically and mentally healthy? Let us know throughyour drawings, comics, creative non fiction, photography, short prose, recipes, raps, poetry,and painting.

TO SUBMIT: To Submit: Contact Vanessa Sparks by telephone at 514-488-9119 or email [email protected]. Please submit electronically, if possible, in the languageof your choice. Please include your contact information. Visit www.forwardhouse.org for moredetails.

DEADLINE: October 7th, 2013


41Buoy Summer 2013

Thank-yousThe Buoy Editorial team wishes to thank Forward House for their unflaggingsupport. We especially want to thank Paul Aubin and Chris McFadden, but alsothe all great Forward House workers who encourage their clients to submit workand who have volunteered their time and talents in support of Buoy. A hugethank you for the support we have received from the mental health community,especially the Montreal Walks For Mental Health Board. Our thanks also to theteam at Rubik’s who always make our printing process go sooo smoothly. Kudosas well to our contributors, we love getting your work, and to our readers whocontinue to ‘read’ us. Nearly lastly special thanks to Nick Serjeantson, for hiswonderful layout work, and to Vanessa Sparks, for encouraging and managingthis project. Finally, Buoy owes its existence to Francis Cropas, who woke up oneday and said “we should make a magazine!”

Who’s WhoThe Buoy Editorial Team is Gilles Chiasson, Judy Minderman, Nick Serjeantson,Susana Marquez, Noel Neil Marlon Evans, Celina Zimmerman, Francis Marquis,Pascal Peladeau-Voisine, Dave Smaill and Lesia Charko. The Editorial Advisor isVanessa Sparks. Design was handled by Nick Serjeantson using PagePlus with inputfrom the editorial team. Fonts used in this edition of Buoy were Constantia forcontent, and Impact and Zurich Xblk BT for headings and such.

Previous Editions of BuoyYou can find all previous copies of Buoy on the Internet at the Issuu website (go tothe Issuu website and type in ‘Buoy’). The last three editions of Buoy are stillavailable in paper form; get them while you still can. Call 514.488.9119 or [email protected] to find out how.


BIOSC�� B��: I took some oil painting classes in 2003. I painted 67 paintings andsold 11 of them for $400 each.

P�� B��: La création est une façon de réalisers les rêves.

E�� C��: Ester is an anglophile who is known for her dry wit and distinctive laugh.She makes Montreal her home.

S�� C��: Sean finds that pastel drawing has always been an outlet to his inner self. Thepoetry included in this issue was written when he was a teenager; he hopes to take it upagain.

C�� J�� C��: I was only five years old when I started writing poetry. My firstpoem was entitled Bluejay.

R�� C��: I, Robert E. Cuttle have had an interest in artwork, poetry andphotography since I was very young. It allows me to concentrate on the things of beauty andtakes me away from the things that are negative. Preserving nature, fresh air and clean waterfor future generations is my main goal in life. And to share kindness wherever I can, bring asmile to someone’s face

R�� D��: Richard started writing at an early age by scribbling profanity in hissisters Dr Seuss books. After completing film school he took up painting all the while playingguitar in various punk bands. He is a strong proponent of all creatures with four legs and along time contributor to Buoy.

R�� D��: RD has many talents and two of these talents have enabled her to paintpictures for a long time and to write loads of poetry. She currently resides in NDG.C�� "S��" D��

H�� F��: Howard’s secular age is 66, but his spirit age is 44 and 6 months. He is awriter and has completed a collection of short stories called Figs and a novel entitled Drivenas well as a number of shorter pieces. He works six days a week, Sunday through Friday.D�� M. F��: I once had a dream that I was the angel of the North Star. It was a veryvivid and spiritual experience and that’s why I wrote the poem.

A� M�C��: I’ve always loved animals, as a small child my favourite books werewild life depicting jungle animals. Today engineers have accomplished many wonders, butthey can never achieve the wonders of GOD’S creative powers as illustrated in the varieties ofwild life!

B�� M��: The poem ' dots ' was written in the year 1970 by Bob Mennie. Perhaps someof you remember ' Roy Rodgers and Dale Evans, The Friendly Giant, The Lone Ranger,Uncle Chichamous, or Champ Champagne and the launching of the Ottawa channel CJOH.And don't forget the favourite ' Maman Fonfon'… All the best,---bob

N�� R��: Nelly Roffé est née à Casablanca au Maroc. Elle habite Montréal depuis 1967.Elle se dédie à présent à la traduction littéraire. Elle travaille sur son premier livre de poésieset collabore à différentes revues littéraires du Québec, de France,de Belgique et d'Espagne.J��-C�� T��: Jean-Christophe Tourenne est né à Boulogne-Billancourt,en banlieue de Paris (France). Il a commencé à dessiner et à jouer avec les couleurs depuisson plus jeune âge. Il s’est par la suite intéressé à la peinture. Il a immigré au Canada à l’âgede 30 ans, où il a développé son goût pour les arts visuels. Autodidacte et ayant le souci dudétail, son travail se définit plutôt par un style moderne et réaliste.

BACK COVER: Judy Minderman,Barn Owl on Tree Stump, coloured pencil

43Buoy Summer 2013Judy Minderman, Sleeping Rhino, pastel sketch

FEATURING / EN VEDETTENelly Roffé- Gilles Chiasson - Dana M. Friend

Cynthia Jean Chukly - Richard Diraddo - Renée DrouinDave Smaill - Judy Minderman - Celina Zimmerman - Sean Cahill

Patrice Boyer - Noel Neil Marlon Evans - Bob Mennie - Ester CabritaCharmaine Bastien - Robert Cuttle - Lesia Charko

Jean-Christophe Tourenne - Nick SerjeantsonAl McCorquodale - Howard FreedSusana Marquez - Francis Marquis

Christopher “Speed” Dubiel

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BUOY l'Été / Summer 2013

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