Meeting a living legend leads to an emotional ride

“My mother said to me, ‘If you become a soldier, you’ll be a general, if you become a monk you’ll end up as the Pope.’ Instead, I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.” — Pablo Picasso

I am often the first to admit my life has been one long adventure and I’m always game to try anything without fear. My latest exploit was a meeting with Mendelson Joe, the infamous multi-media artist, songwriter, guitar master and painter at his hideaway haven in the wild. I couldn’t wait, yet while driving north on Highway 11 past Huntsville where I was heading to meet the famous painter, I almost had a change of heart. I realized I had no idea what I would say to this legend and had the urge to turn around and just go somewhere else.

Growing up in Toronto, McKenna Mendelson Mainline, later Mainline, was one of my favourite groups. When I was many moons younger we used to frequent Toronto’s Hawk’s Nest and the Gaslight and get to see him on stage.

Mendelson Joe is a star, and his group signed with Liberty/United Artists and was the opening act for Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, Rod Stewart, Jimi Hendrix — the whole list is too big for my column — hence my nerves. He’s a multi-faceted person and I want to keep this column simple. However, I have seen his work and love it. I am a crow for colour and his colours are stunning. He seems like he is not afraid to paint and that he has found his medium.

I don’t know if I was excited to see him, his log cabin or his work but all three were heady ingredients. There is a self-portrait of him on his website called Blue Sexygenarian and, I must say, I love the colour blue so I was totally inspired. I parked my car down the long lane with numerous signs warning me to keep out and nervously walked down a path until I came across the log cabin.

It was a beauty; rustic and not all decked out with tacky crap that you see around Muskoka. I knocked on the door still wanting to bolt when I met him. At first he didn’t seem as despotic as I thought he would be, and I guess I had gotten sucked into the rumours that surround him, like how he paints in the nude. He was totally intriguing even though he had a dishtowel on his head under a Canada cap. Quasi French foreign legion meets Muskoka blackflies.

He was covered in his Jackson Pollock-inspired clothing, splattered with paint from head to toe. He asked me to walk with him while he mailed a very colourful letter at his mailbox at the end of his drive. What I saw on his property that I liked right away were the teepee poles for his teepee and thought I would document an image of him inside the circle.

He doesn’t like people who don’t say please and, as it happened I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t say please. He is the prophet of etiquette, but I must admit I was nervous being near him because he has such a presence with his history of five decades in the limelight. He was larger than I thought and very handsome. He makes himself look ghastly in his portraits but in real life he has classical good looks, dishtowel or not. Minding my p’s and q’s we continued towards the cabin.

The bugs were bad so we went inside, which was exactly how I pictured it in my mind. His rules are strict: don’t touch anything and don’t even think of smoking, which I don’t.

He was so delightful. It was so refreshing to meet someone so full of knowledge and energy and who really is larger than life. We chatted for more than an hour discussing how all artists are whores. He even admitted he was a whore. He used the word to explain how he must work to be an artist and how he would sell his paint-splattered shoes to make money. He was very blunt in that he loves motorcycles, the female anatomy, wooden boats and painting. In that order.

He was really animated when he spoke, but I was still not feeling comfortable to just pick up my camera and blast away and ruin the moment. We talked about beauty, which is his mantra, and not just a pretty face but the world in general. He doesn’t like politicians and I didn’t want to get on that subject. I wanted to know what it was like to live in this wooded haven, paint a living canvas and be a loner. He told me about the beauty of winter and his love for picture books. He talked about Karen Robinson and her creative art, and her gallery in which she represents Joe. Her new gallery is in Emsdale and I plan to visit it soon.

I didn’t want to keep him too long as he was in the midst of painting a portrait of the prime minister. We talked about his books, other artists in the area, the Pope’s quotes, and how he turned his back on Toronto and came to live north of Huntsville. I told him I did the same thing, sans the log cabin. I gave him a copy of my book Muskoka Traditions, but he didn’t like it. I wanted him to have it anyway. There are lots of beautiful pictures and well-written chapters in it, and I’m sure he can relate to that.

We walked outside and he showed me his art, and we talked about the meaning of his eclectic things, like the front end of an old classic car with a cow skull on it with a tennis ball through its eye. It’s a little extreme for the traditional hood ornament, but Joe isn’t traditional and that’s why I wanted to meet him.

So I guess I can tick him off my list of colourful characters to meet in Muskoka. Thanks, Joe; it was a trip, and I appreciate your kindness.

Bev McMullen is an award-winning photographer who specializes in images of Muskoka. Her most recent book, “Carve your own Totem Pole” published by Boston Mills Press, is now available in local bookstores. She can be reached in Muskoka at 705-645-8771.