Aug 9 2009
Bas-Cap-Pelé plays
I told Archie to go and explore Le Goguen Musée de l’Art Brut on his own (“brut” means raw or rough art). I was feeling sick and irritable and my broken toe throbbed. We were in Bas-Cap-Pelé checking out some of the “attractions”.
Le Goguen Musée de l’Art
This Musée Brut place had lots of found-art sculpture in the front yard. At first glance, it looked like a lot of junk, but hey, the guy seemed to have a sense of humour and he was recycling. He was offering something to the people who passed by—a smile and something to puzzle over.
So Archie went over to explore the outside museum and took a bunch of photos.The Two Bishops in a Kayak that Archie speaks of actually had the tops of bleach bottles glued to their heads with some kind of ropey fiber or coconut husks glued onto that. The meaning I took was they were early missionaries plying the coastal water and out to convert the natives, but they just looked silly. Maybe that’s how they looked to the natives, too.
3,000 plus monkeys
Then Archie was invited into the inner sanctum and disappeared inside the “monkey house”. He came out smiling, looking delighted if somewhat puzzled. He told me about the 3000 plus stuffed toy monkeys inside covering every surface.
Monkeys of every kind, huge ones, tiny ones, mechanical ones. I’ve been in scary “fun houses” with skeletons and ghouls, but this seemed to be a silly fun house. What would it be like going to bed with monkeys looking down at you from the ceiling? How could you dust that many fuzzy toys?
Bas-Cap-Pelé is a playful place, we concluded. There were several really nice “terrains de jeu” for the village children with swings and slides and jungle gyms and grassy areas to run.
Fifties reborn
Near one of these playgrounds someone had erected replicas of a 50s style gas station and diner right in their backyard, complete with antique gas pumps and “White Rose Gas” and “Coca Cola” signs. They were really well done replicas. The gas station was really just the owner’s garage painted yellow and white with all the antique service station pumps and signs outside. Were there antique tools inside? What was missing was, of course, an antique car but it may have been parked inside. I like to think it was the Ford my dad had back then.
Railcar Diner?
The railcar style diner was red and had rounded corners and a cute little striped awning on the front. But it was done on a smaller scale than a real diner—kid sized (I think it might have been an industrial mobile office once). I almost felt like I was back in the 50s when buildings like these were shiny and new, heralding “modern” times. How the world has changed. If I was a kid, I would have loved to play there. They put me in a good mood.
What makes these old guys so playful?
I am wondering what makes adults like Désiré Goguen and the man who built the replicas do what they do? As a child, at one point I realized that when I became an adult I could no longer play with my dolls. That was just for kids. There was a sadness with that realization. Who made that rule?
I still have my doll family that my aunt bought me when I was seven-years-old. They’re stored in an old carrying case. They’re from the 50s too and my daughter played with them for a while. I told myself that I was saving them for her but now I find that they represent so much joy and happiness that came from my childhood, I just can’t bear to part with them. Am I saving them for my grandchildren perhaps? The dolls are in their case just waiting to bust out and play with the next child that comes along, I imagine.
The Bas-Cap-Pelé people who made these “attractions”, maybe they’re retired fishermen or farmers who worked hard their whole lives without much leisure time. Now they’re playing and inviting others to do so as well. Or maybe their lives were such that their outlooks have always been playful and good-natured.
From what I’ve read of Acadians, they rolled with the hard times, but enjoyed the good times. When the fishing and farming seasons were over, they filled their long winter hours with music making, collecting and hobbies. Now it’s just more of the same. In any case, these grassroots expressions of the spirit of this place caught our attention compelling us to linger and explore this community a little more. These folks had something to share and they wanted a reaction.
Aug 9 2009
Two bishops in a kayak
The bishops in the kayak piece is what caught our attention. It was on the lawn of a home in Bas Cap-Pelé along with maybe 20 other pieces with a sign in front that said, “Goguen’s Museé de l’Art Brut. Now, they may not have been bishops but we always try to make sense of what we see and these two mannequins had what look to be coconut miters on their heads.
They had other things on, like rain coats and there was a lobster trap perched on the bow, but it was the miters and the black Beatle wigs which made me think of bishops. It was probably a joke and I should have asked the punch line but art should stand on its own and when the artist puts a work on display he must abandon it to the viewer’s interpretation.
An inscrutable art
Most of Désiré Goguen’s art brut is “inscrutable” that way. You sort of get the joke, but it doesn’t quite come through, unless there are puns in French that I can’t catch. That’s possible.
So, what is the punch line here. Are these the mounted police we all respect?
Andy McDonald of Andy’s Dummy Farm, which is not far away between Aulac and Cape Tormentine, solved the problem by nailing signs near his dummies telling you what he meant. I don’t remember reading any of them because they mostly seemed to be mean-spirited political jokes, the kind bitter old men make, and I can’t imagine Désiré Goguen being bitter. I can only imagine Désiré being generous and exuberant and if he doesn’t put up signs explaining his art it’s probably because he wouldn’t think of spoiling it for you. Think what you want, would be his wish.
3,759 stuffed monkeys and counting
Proof of Désiré’s exuberance and good nature are the 3,759 (at the time of writing) toy monkeys in his house. I mean, the inside of the house is literally covered with his collection and his only explanation doesn’t really explain anything at all. “When my wife was living, I had 19 and she said that was too many.”
He seems to treat each one like a small child, touching its hand gently, turning the mechanical ones on and watching with delight as they dance, sing, or worse, both. “My brother sent me that one from Florida.” It was a gorilla sitting on the floor.
Elaine, who not only had a broken toe but was so hungry she was getting a headache because of our not being able to find a decent place to eat, waited in the car and missed out. Driving away after she said, “You’re smiling.” I was. I couldn’t help it.
It had been such a delightful encounter when I had expected an experience like Andy’s Dummies, especially when Désiré said to me after I had taken his picture, while he sat on the porch stemming yellow beans, “Look around and when you’re done I have something in the house to show you. You will like it.”
I dread encounters with people who impose their assumptions on strangers and, once I was done, I was going to slip back to the car but he caught me and I went in and was delighted. It took a moment, though, for me to realize that all those stuffed toys pinned to the walls and ceiling and posed on chairs and tables were all monkeys.
Perhaps that was the best part of the surprise for me, that they were monkeys. Salt and pepper shakers would have been impressive as would a beer stein collection that was that big. But they were monkeys.
The trip
Years ago when I was in the army I had made an over-hasty decision to embark on a motorcycle trip to Montreal on my first day of leave. It was a Monday and I had just completed my punishment of being confined to barracks for a week for falling asleep on duty. It had been a long, long week of marching on the parade square in the full heat of summer with 60 pounds of kit on my back. On top of that, there was the tedious reporting to the duty sergeant every hour on the hour in a different uniform. Man, it had been a long week and just when I thought I had made it through my five day punishment, I got nailed for a speck of rust on a magazine and got the weekend tacked on to the week as well as a $50 fine.
When I was finally free to go I impatiently packed my pack and headed out. My plan, such as it was, was to ride until I got half way, find a place off the road to sleep for a few hours and be in Montreal by morning. However, by the middle of the night I was exhausted and depressed and could find no suitable place to hide and sleep.
My enthusiasm for the trip evaporated, I decided to rely on stamina and just keep going but the chill of the night made me lonely. I wished I had some company so at a truck stop I bought a stuffed monkey and fastened it to my bedroll behind me so I could see him in my rear view mirrors, sitting like a passenger, smiling incessantly.
When dawn broke and people I passed on the highway could see my companion, they were delighted, especially the children. I never took a motorcycle trip without him after that. When I discovered that all Désiré’s toys were monkeys, that same delight returned after all those years.
Exactly how many monkeys typing away will eventually write a play as good as Shakespeare’s? I doubt Désiré would care, unless there were a chance of adding those monkey’s to his collection once they were done.
By Archie • Baie Vert, First Page, New Brunswick