the Boardwalk mother story

While travelling—in the ‘80s and ‘90s—Maureen would take her camera out whenever people started to look interesting. And people often do look interesting.

A stop in Atlantic City on the way home from the family’s year-long sailing trip made for some fascinating subjects, and Maureen brought these other travellers together into a composition called “Boardwalk.”

Boardwalk, 1994, Maureen Harvey

Now, there’s rarely any knowing what kind of life an artwork might have after leaving the artist’s hands. In this case, a friend of the family was opening a prominent Edmonton restaurant at the time Maureen was finishing up her “Boardwalk,” in the mid-nineties. Melinda Ringrose went to school with the Harvey kids. She (now a Stewart) and chef-husband Larry chose about five big paintings and some small ones for their Hardware Grill, soon due to open in the old WW Arcade hardware. The paintings went up, the restaurant opened, and many satiated customers went on to see them.

And then one day, Marianne Scott called, then of the Scott Gallery, where Maureen sold her art. Marianne called to say that the Hardware Grill had contacted her about a restaurant customer who recognizes her mother in one of the paintings. Not only her face, but the dress and the pearls were ones that her mother always wore. 

Meanwhile, the Hardware Grill said that they had served their guest—the daughter—her meals in front of the painting, at her request. She wouldn’t sit in the restaurant proper: she wanted to be served on a table in front of her mother’s likeness. The painting, though, was on the wall as you entered the restaurant, in the foyer. This meant that everyone who wanted a meal had to navigate around this table and the woman eating lunch with her mother in the painting. 

Soon, it wasn’t enough that the daughter could see the painting with her mother in it in the foyer of Edmonton’s then top-level restaurant: she wanted one for her own. The Scott Gallery arranged for Maureen and the daughter to meet. She lived in Vancouver, and on one Edmonton trip, met Maureen at the Scott to discuss details. The daughter-now-client wanted her mother on her own wall. But not just mother: she also wanted dad in there, and dad liked squirrels, so could Maureen add one as well? Of course she could, right there on his shoulder.

In the storytelling, the client’s mother had 8-9 children and was “as big as a minute—not quite 5 feet tall,” says Maureen. She would often take off on excursions without telling anyone in the family where she was going. She’d often take a friend. In Maureen’s “Boardwalk,” there’s a woman beside her. Maybe her friend? The family wouldn’t know where she was or what she would be doing. “On these tours, though, people are treated very well,” confirms Maureen. So mom’s travels brought her to the east coast of USA to be photographed and painted by a prairie girl and seen by her daughter over lunch while visiting Edmonton, painted again, and finally over to the west coast.

Maureen, while working on the new piece, did what she’d always do and consider scale in her composition. “We need some height! To be a part of these figures. An emu! That’s what we need. We needed the necks of the emus for heights. And facial expression. . . for smiles.” Meanwhile, the client’s mom was a tiny woman, and the father was a big man: much bigger than mom. Maureen wanted to get it right and would have to check it with her client. For one of the visits, Maureen met her client in a coffee house in the Vancouver airport to show drawings of dad and mom and how they would be incorporated into a larger painting. There weren’t many people around, so Maureen spread her drawings over a couple of tables. Once everything—colour, composition—was agreed to, she rolled everything up and proceeded on to Victoria to visit family. 

After a bit more back-and-forth, the piece was completed and sent to the new owner, who could now sit and have lunch near mom and dad whenever she liked.

cow as subject

Maureen, a city girl—having lived in Edmonton, Montreal, Los Angeles—became particularly intrigued by cows when the Harvey family bought the farm in 1974. 

“They were everywhere,” says Maureen. “They would just stare at you. And stare. And stare. I’d sketch them, and they’d stare.” 

Cows painting by Maureen Harvey

As Maureen puts it,  “I hadn’t really experienced cows that close. Or in that variety.” A few years after buying the farm, Maureen illustrated the book The Silver Chain (with author Gerda Bako, 1982). Although the Harveys had a dog too at that time—a German Shepard—the dog in the book was inspired by neighbouring Mort’s dog. Their property also inspired illustrations for the book: a dump only a few hundred yards on the east side of Highway 2, close to Harvey’s. And on the road to Mort’s, there were many, many cows. . . that just stood and stared.

When Maureen came back from the yearlong family boat trip, the cows seemed to be bigger than ever. “The boat was so cramped,” says Maureen. “Coming back to the prairies, the animals looked bigger. You could see them across the lake. I mostly saw them when driving back and forth. The neighbours had milk cows: you’d hear them mooing. Then you’d hear Jean calling, ‘Here cow, here cow.’ Calling a cow back because she had strayed.” Cows became a curiosity and new influence on Maureen’s work.

cow sculptures by Maureen Harvey

According to Maureen, the interaction between self and cow involves the sheer scale of the animal. “They seemed so big. They just seemed so darn big! And their udders. Their bags were so loaded, and having to waddle around with that between your legs. I can’t imagine the discomfort: the enormity of the cow.”

artwork by Maureen Harvey

When travelling to London, England to exhibit her works alongside Audrey Watson at Alberta House, Maureen experienced a change in scale among—of all things—cows. “We went for a drive in the countryside, and the cows looked even more enormous. England is such a small country. They’ll have a little hill, a big cow, a little fence. The scale was just wild!”

Nowhere has this scale been bigger than with Maureen’s Prairie Picnic, her mural commissioned for the 1983 Universiade Games in Edmonton. It lived on 97th street adjacent to Jasper Avenue and across from the WW Arcade/ Hardware Grill before being unceremoniously demolished for the creation of new buildings.

Prairie Picnic, Maureen Harvey, 1983

On keeping a sketchbook + getting going again

Maureen uses a sketchbook to “scribble out the budding of an idea,” to see where it goes. It’s a place to test out new materials, and record working methods.

Between 2001-2004, Maureen and her husband John made several lengthy road trips, to the Yukon, Alaska, and Jasper. While travelling, John drove and Maureen filled her sketchbook.

“Your mood and the landscape suggest the materials that you want to use,” says Maureen.

There’s a simplicity to the pure lines: “You just put down the marks because you’re there.”

To Maureen, inspiration is everywhere. Instead of being categorized as, say, a flower painter or a figure painter, to her you can just like the shapes or like being outdoors, and can get back into your art again.

“Sometimes you hit a corner where you’re not sure how to proceed,” says Maureen. For her, going back to the basics is a way to help get around that corner. She will give herself an exercise, a schedule. For example, you could go outside every day at 10am and sketch for an hour. After a few weeks, assess what you’ve done and go back.

The long road trips and expansive summer days on the trail gave Maureen a bit of that kind of routine. She couldn’t be too precious about it, and as she says, “You have to capture the essence of the view, because John will not stop.”

As for materials, paints are too sloppy, and books can’t be too big—not unlike being on the boat. “And you can’t watch your paper, hardly.”

These sketches are not reworked: laying down the energy of the moment is a part of the exercise. Here are some samples.

making art from a boat

1984 had the Harvey family venture off on a year away—at sea. To say that it changed Maureen’s artistic focus is an understatement. She went from Edmonton’s Universiade mural on Jasper Avenue and 99thstreet to small notebooks that could be squirrelled away on a 13-metre, 17-ton sailboat: the Nefertari, home for the family of six over the coming year.

Paints are finicky: Maureen moved to pencils. On the water, subjects can be sparse: each landing provided new inspiration. 

After travelling east by land, heading south was the way to go, through Florida and to the Bahamas. It was there in the Caribbean where Maureen found plenty of new subjects for her work. In particular, the deep colours registered. Sunsets, reflections, turquoise water and pale sand: all began to show themselves on paper. 

No one in the family had strong sailing experience before the trip. John’s brother Bob sailed, and brother Hobert. Maureen was accustomed to getting a little bit seasick on the water, and soon learned that sailing involves six directions: north, south, east, west, up, and down. And, of course, the water’s colours were a guide: aqua-shaded water equates to a calmer channel, while true blue indicates deeper, ocean water. 

Straight away, everyone in the Harvey family learned their jobs. Weather played a big part in the day. After checking the winds, swimming or snorkelling would be quick on the agenda. 

Colleen, from Colleen + David, diptych, 49-3/4 x 39-3/4”

David, from Colleen + David, diptych, 49-3/4 x 39-3/4”

As with any home, meals were daily work. David, truly a prairie kid, is fabled to have complained at least once, “What, lobster again?” Half of the family meals were caught fresh from the sea. Other foods were always cooked from the basics. At port, the family would stock up: basically, with two layers of food. One would keep longer, and they’d use up the fresher items first. “If you managed to get green beans, or maybe carrots—carrots were sparse—we’d eat these right away.” Food hung in hammocks in the cabin, and would be rinsed with sea water to eliminate bugs. Cabbage and onions would be eaten next, with a good scrub on the root end of the onions: again to get rid of bugs. “We’d sometimes buy groceries from the local barge. The store was often a living room in somebody’s house or a shed somewhere,” remembers Maureen. They would never have corrugated cardboard, as that was a place for bugs or cockroaches to hide out. 

Crayfish, 11x14”

On anchoring, all six would head off in different directions: the luxury of space not wasted. As Maureen puts it, “We’re not a flare-up family,” and each of the Harveys found ways to live comfortably together in the small space and back on land. Correspondence school was a commitment for Colleen and David, as they worked on high school courses from the water. David and John spearfished with snorkels. Young John went off to crew another boat, and no one heard from him for five months. They managed fine without him, and, after honing his new skills, they graciously welcomed him back.

On the Beach, 22-3/4 x 30”

Everyone was healthy throughout most of the trip. Maureen developed an abscessed tooth by the end, to be taken care of once back home. Mom O’Neill was ill with cancer before the trip and passed away while they were at sea. 

For Maureen, the trip provided a sense of independence from “work” or career. She was into some significant work at the time of the trip. Prairie Picnic had finished up. The Cows at the Edmonton Central Public Library parkade. The Junkanoo mural at St. Rose School. Maureen had the option of staying home alone. . . but ultimately thought that the boat trip would be a fun adventure. And it was a true adventure, for all involved. “There was a point, at the end of October, when I thought, ‘this is it. We’re done.’” There were high, fierce waves near Newport. As Maureen puts it, “We survived.”

More than surviving, Maureen and family thrived. Maureen’s work took a new turn. The narrow lines of boats’ masts began to show. Pastel colours on houses, and the bright sky and clear colours arrived. Circles, like compositions around a fire, joined her work.

On the Wall, 17-1/4 x 23-1/2”

To read more, see this Edmonton Journal report of the Harvey boat trip.  
To see more on the people from the Bahamas that Maureen painted, read this story [TO FOLLOW].

Christmas in Maureen's childhood home

“Dad would build a creche at Christmas with dummies from Holt Renfrew and Johnson Walker or Hudson Bay. We’d collect wool to place on sheep forms and use Loretta’s doll for Baby Jesus. Buntie, our little Welsh Corgie, would lie down by the crib and protect the doll.

There was lots of traffic on our corner—82 Street and Jasper Avenue—and Dad’s work as a dentist gave us a good audience.

We were MaryBeth (Elizabeth), Peggy (Margaret), Doreen, me, Loretta, Patrick, and Michael: the O’Neills.

Every year, we’d add to it. Really, it was a helping project in 3D, with manual installation and everyone pitching in.

We went on to incorporate the Town of Bethlehem on the porch, with canvas painted like rocks and boxes with holes in them and lights behind to look like windows.

It’s so much fun doing something gigantic.”