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Sept. 22, 2006

Soaring through pain

Artists triumph over childhoods in their work.
KATHARINE HAMER EDITOR

The film opens in silence, with a quote from psychoanalyst Anthony Storr over the green shadows of a Pacific forest: "The creative spirit is not indestructible, but a courageous few discover that when in hell, they are granted a glimpse of heaven."

The film, Glimpses of Heaven, is the first directorial effort from Vancouverite Michael Oved Dayan. It documents the lives of three remarkable men, each of whom became a successful artist after surviving a deeply traumatic childhood.

Dayan said he had always wanted to make a movie, and was struck by Storr's book, Solitude, which he read while completing his PhD dissertation on the themes of privacy and identity. A communications professor, Dayan had ample access to artists of note through his mother, painter Linda Frimer. The subjects of Glimpses of Heaven, composer Peter Gary, potter Wayne Ngan and painter George Littlechild, were all friends of Frimer's.

"I knew they were people with incredible stories," Dayan told the Independent, "and I knew they were people with whom I could speak openly. They were very colorful as well."

With calm detachment, each of the men relays an astonishing tale of childhood suffering. Gary is a Holocaust survivor; Littlechild, the survivor of abuse at the hands of a foster parent; Ngan, sent from China to live with his grandparents in Richmond at the age of 13, was alternately ignored or berated.

Dayan alternates between the men's stories and dreamy, haunting nature settings: a slow drive down a tree-lined island road, the sun streaming through a forest, sea birds seen from the deck of a ferry. His idea, he said, was to impart to the viewer the sense of comfort his subjects derive from nature – and their undeniable sense of optimism.

"I will not deprive myself from another smile, from another extended hand, from another, 'Hello, nice to meet you,' " says Gary, whose mother was shot to death while protecting him from SS officers, and who emerged, alive, from a concentration camp. He adds that his post-modernist compositions, which act as the soundtrack to this documentary, are the only way he is really able to communicate.

"I believe you have to go to the depths to understand what it truly means to be human," says Littlechild.

"It's about taming the volcano," adds Ngan, one of Canada's most prominent ceramicists.

There is a universality to the film's message; a sense that hope and healing are possible in the face of seemingly immutable sadness. "We've all suffered," Dayan observed. "These people are all from different cultures, but they're all saying the same things. It's about trusting your voice; trusting the world. It's rare that you see men who are so gentle and sensitive."

Glimpses of Heaven is being screened next week at the Calgary International Film Festival, alongside movies that cost $25,000 to make, Dayan noted. (His own feature, shot on mini-DV, totalled a mere $4,000, not including his own time.) Dayan, who also wrote and produced the movie, hopes to show it in Vancouver some time in the coming months.

For more information, visit www.glimpsesofheaven.ca.

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