The greying privacy fence behind Brenda Hogg’s white aluminum-sided wartime home may look like nearly every other house on the street but what lays behind is an artist, or so our art editor Walter Liu tells me after the dust up at the gallery the other week.
I am no stranger to Brenda’s sense of vision, that’s why I brought her on board just days before Greg and I cooked up the scheme for County Fence 2.0. Brenda and I had crossed paths at various local political meetings where I greatly admired her passion. Sensing that perhaps she was lacking a platform, and I staff, I offered what I could: a position as Napanee Correspondent here at County Fence.
Gentrification is a hot topic in these parts lately. Of course, most long-time locals don’t use that language. Rather they see it as an invasion from the city: thousands of families selling million-dollar fixer-uppers in one place and descending on what they see as an idyllic blank canvas just a few hours away from all that is familiar. And Brenda Hogg is a critic on the forefront of this change.
Realistically my parents’ generation was the last great rural-Canadian generation. Over my lifetime there has been a slow exodus from the countryside as industries centralized and rural economies mechanized. There has been a great schism in our fair country where those seeking to make a name for themselves generally leave while those seeking stability remain. And today, like a perfect secret fishing hole discovered by the piscatorial masses, the machinery of that exodus has slowed and lurched into reverse.
As someone who appreciates fine things, I’ve been divided. Among some circles that I’ve been privileged enough to have gained entry my tastes are decidedly humble but I’m also a lifelong believer that a life well-lived is bespoke. For instance, County Fence HQ is a simple bungalow not entirely different from those up and down Ms. Hogg’s own street. Yet through efforts of my own and craftspeople I respect it’s finished to a high and custom standard. I have always felt that resources spent on lifestyle creep are wasted but, as the venerable Mari Kondo proclaims, your possessions exist to bring you joy.
On the other hand there is a heady freedom that comes with a rustic lifestyle. Recently I visited our very own Gregaro McKool’s homestead: a lovely cottage in the midst of receiving some much needed and expert TLC. He was in the middle of moving a large chest of drawers down a hallway with vintage pine floors which left a rather noticeable gouge in the finish. Had these been new and pristine floors there would have been much weeping and gnashing of teeth but given that they’re due for a refinish anyway he was able to shrug it off and head to the kitchen for some delicious coffee instead. When he does refinish, it will be with oil rather than urethane because keeping soft pine floors pristine is a fool’s errand and a luxurious patina is the correct recipe for cozy living.
A picture-perfect lifestyle leaves little room for grace or comfort while a neighbourhood with a few weeds and a bit of flaking paint is an invitation to authenticity, to let one’s hair down and relax. Yet these things on one single house indicate an eyesore. In the end it’s about priorities. Those who have prioritized ambition have largely gone elsewhere while those who have prioritized a slower and perhaps more stable lifestyle have remained. Now that those high-achieving people are returning with half a million dollars in their renovation fund the ones who have remained don’t stand a chance.
Of course I stand between these two groups: when I had my opportunity to leave I opted to stay, like Ms. Hogg. I liked the fresh air too much and enjoyed enough privilege to have my cake and eat it too. I knew that if I wanted to see a balanced community someone needed to stay behind and invest, to be the change they wanted to see. But, alas, I still wanted change.
Truth be told I’ve wished there was a little more colour on streets like Brenda’s. A holdover from the puritanical utopianism of colonial opportunists, there are only a handful of traditionally accepted house colours in these parts: white, pea green, white and pea green, brick, and timber. In the nineties we added beige vinyl siding to the mix as well. To my mind the joy of paint is that it’s relatively cheap and needs to be reapplied periodically: why not chose something bold? But perhaps those who prioritize boldness were the ones who looked for their opportunities elsewhere.
Of course Brenda Hogg did not look for opportunities elsewhere, she had other priorities. A burning passion for her community and an independent spirit lead her to invest in her town even if that meant less opportunity. From the home that she inherited from her parents she was able to secure the freedom required to be unapologetically herself. And who is that person? What self is able to be expressed in the privacy of that early-2000’s box-store privacy fence? Walter insists it’s the heart of an artist, though I wonder if it’s not something more performative. Perhaps the heart of a muse.
Given the beautiful day, Brenda received me in her back yard: a private oasis of creatively potted plants and whirligigs. Most, if not all, were thrifted or found at various flea markets. Many had been repaired in creative and endearing ways. She served me the rural Ontario drink of choice: rye and ginger in some delightful 1970’s vintage plastic floral tumblers. We soaked in our surroundings from a charming picnic table with a stylish pub style patio umbrella that I’m sure was acquired legally, upstanding citizen that Brenda is.
It’s easy to loose sight of your culture in small communities, especially ones that haven’t enjoyed the economic privileges others have. An insecurity develops that causes one to either cling to what they already posses or the things their neighbour possesses. A classic example might be Canada and the United States. Arguably we have the healthier and perhaps more multi-faceted culture but it’s obscured by the sheer amount of culture that an extra century of history, ten times the population, and the Hollywood culture-making machine can output. Thus we find ourselves envious of a country without socialized healthcare, deep racial inequality, and among the poorest social mobility of developed nations. Canada is arguably reaching maturity as a nation at this very moment but could hit a self-imposed ceiling rooted in the insecurity we feel in the presence of our southerly neighbours. The same thing happens in the small communities in our region: their identity becomes so reactive-to and thus dependent-on nearby large urban centres that a healthy individual culture is not cultivated. The path forward is blazed by people like Brenda Hogg.
It’s rare for Brenda to leave Napanee, which shows serious commitment. Being such a small community this imposes limitations on her curatorial abilities but I am a firm believer that constraints breed creativity in the same way hardship breeds culture. Yet her endeavours to preserve her parent’s mid-century way of life and celebrate what her community has celebrated over time remind me of my own efforts to preserve the home I grew up in. Following the death of my mother it was my wish to preserve the Octavian family homestead according to the period in which it would have been at it’s most authentic. Beginning life like so many as a traditional Ontario Cottage before being added-on to, I felt it was a unique way to preserve how my people lived. Over the years it has not only provided overflow sleeping accommodations for large groups but also a filming location for a few period dramas. Where I intend to preserve a turn-of-the-century lifestyle, Brenda does the same for the mid-century.
At my stage of life it’s easy to forget your age and become excited about the new hot thing. I am constantly impressed by the creativity and confidence young people show these days and the possibilities technology makes possible. The fact that Ms. Boardman can develop software out of the back of a van while exploring the furthest reaches of the North American road network is truly astonishing, and I must admit that I am jealous. But that’s a young man’s game and I must remember that I am no longer a young man. Those days are behind me and I’m thankful for kindred spirits such as Brenda with which to remember and preserve the past.
-Jules
