brin & BOOTS SERIES: princess alice of kent

2008-2022

ARTIST’S RESIDENCY AT LANDFALL TRUST• BRIGUS NEWFOUNDLAND

Please see Artist’s Statement about the series.

“Brin” is burlap, most often from coffee bags. The boots are from the local thrift shop in Bay Roberts.

The following story written into the Kent Cottage guest book by Paul Kay is absolutely true. Jake was a previous owner, as was Rockwell Kent (original illustrator of Moby Dick).

Alice, red merle of coat and stub of tail, came into her owners’ lives as a foundling, rescued by Pet Finders, and endeared herself to them as “her cuteness”.  [After moving from a house to a condo] she now lived 16 floors above a busy urban intersection.  While her people appreciated the convenience of city amenities and the view across the urban landscape, Alice was nervously uncomfortable with the sidewalks’ bustly hustle and was too short to see over the concrete base of the balcony railing.  She hadn’t asked for this.  She knew she had a higher calling in life, tending sheep (more than half of her was Australian Sheepdog) or at least keeping a yard squirrel-free.

When her mistress received the Landfall Trust artist-in-residence opportunity, she promised Alice a great adventure, the opportunity to live outdoors again, to run free, perhaps to chase moose.  With her big auburn eyes, Alice looked accusingly at her master when he was allowed brief visits on the l-o-n-g ferry crossing.  This is the adventure you promised?

Oh, but what paradise Landfall was!  Quickly Alice forgot the seemingly interminable days in the car and hotel rooms.  Here were squirrels—small and reddish instead of big and black, but squirrels nevertheless to protect her people from.  Here were rocks to climb, paths to explore, a long driveway rolling out towards town like a red carpet, beckoning “come, come, explore”.  Every morning, and every time the door was opened to let her out, she went flying over the grating, over the rock walls, down into the garden and up into the bush.

One morning, about 10 days into the residency, she didn’t come when called, even though she had raced off before having breakfast.  Worried, her people went calling down the driveway, finding her half a kilometre away slowly, foot-sore and dog-tired, making her way back.  For days, she was listless, she didn’t go far, her leaps were perfunctory, she clung to her people.  The nice vet in Bay Roberts examined her, found nothing wrong, and speculated she had either worn herself out or “might-a had-a fright”.

Perhaps, though, she had seen a ghost.  It is well known that dogs have a sense inaccessible to humans.  Perhaps she had met Jake, out in his usual fashion, surveying Kent Cottage domain.  His eccentric but kindly moustachioed smile reassured her.  He told Alice he was glad she was enjoying Landfall as much as he did, and that he appreciated her help in keeping the goats away.  He dubbed Her Highness Princess Alice of Kent, and foretold that she would be so immortalized in a hooked mat her mistress would make in honour of their stay at Jake’s place.