Soft Realism
By Leslie Ebbs
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Restigouche Gallery Displaying Works by Dennis Cardiff
Campbellton Graphic
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York: Artistic exhibit on viewby Robert Smythe
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Girls, Girls, Girls!
Newspaper article by Bob Florence which appeared in the Saskatoon Star-Phoenix Monday January 30, 2006
"Girls! Girls! Girls!" shouted a barker outside a tent on the grounds of the Saskatoon Exhibition in the summer of 1962. Not that young Dennis Cardiff needed any encouragement to step inside. He had heard about this road show. In the paper he had seen the ad promising an entertaining program of song and dance, with a side order of comedy. "A cast of 60," the ad for the Club Lido Revue said, "including 20 lovelies." Dennis asked his parents about it. The show is for grown-ups, they said. End of discussion. At 16 years old, Dennis liked to think he was almost grown up. Besides, it's not as if they'd ever know if he saw the show. Even if they did find out, he could soft-shoe around it and tell them he had paid for it out of his own money, from his part-time job setting up pins every Saturday at Hunter's Bowl-Arena on First Avenue. His parents couldn't accuse him of frittering away his allowance on dancing girls. The feature performer with the Lido Revue was a woman from Detroit with a long and proud family tradition in show business. Both her mother and grandmother had been entertainers. Her husband, Tommy Timlin, was also in on the act. He was one of the cast of 60 in the Revue, a comedian. The woman's stage name was Blaze Fury. "The Human Heat Wave," the barker called her. As she danced, she peeled off her clothes, with a wink here, a shimmy there, she could make a teenage boy spontaneously combust. Her costume didn't come all undone. She left something to the imagination. Times were different then, back in the days of burlesque. Popularized by Josephine Baker in French music halls and perfected by Sally Rand's famous fan dance, banished in New York City in 1937 by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia as immoral, burlesque dancing peaked in the '50s and '60s. While largely gone, Cardiff is hoping those performers - and that time, that style - are not forgotten. "I play blues guitar and can find all kinds of history about musicians; blues, jazz, rock and roll," he says. "Same with actors. Even with vaudeville, there is quite a bit written. "Burlesque has little (of its history preserved), almost deliberately so. I feel they deserve to be honoured and remembered, maybe given the respect they haven't had." A portrait artist since 1972 and resident of Ottawa where he lives with his wife, Daisy Desson, Cardiff has completed six paintings of burlesque performers. Another six are in the works. He keeps the originals and sells prints, with half the proceeds going to support the Golden Days of Burlesque Historical Society in Salt Lake City. Through the historical society he contacts the performers. Before picking up the paint brush he gets on the phone and talks with each burlesque dancer he is about to feature. There's Dee Milo, Venus of Dance. Her signature routine was Sentimental Journey, portraying a lovers' reunion at the end of the war. There's Marinka. At 6-foot-1, she was billed as The Amazon Woman. There's Gilda, known for her waist-long drapery of golden hair. "I get to know these people," he says. "I want the portraits to be a narrative of their career. And I just like hearing their stories. They all have terrific stories. I can imagine sitting around a table with a beer, listening to them tell their stories." Like the one Tura Satana tells about Elvis Presley. She and The King were once an item. Trained in karate, she taught him some new stage moves incorporating martial arts. She had Elvis all shook up. A portrait of Satana is one of Cardiff's works in progress. He began studying art in Saskatoon under Ernest Lindner at the Technical Institute and lists among his other influences Wynona Mulcaster and Dorothy Knowles, both from the University of Saskatchewan. His works in landscapes and figures and still life have been exhibited since the early 1970s, just about the time he left Saskatoon and went East. Two of his paintings are in the permanent collection at the Mendel Art Gallery. His series on the burlesque dancers are like vintage posters, all costume and colour, a collage of ostrich feathers and lace and elbow-length gloves. "Burlesque," he says, "has always been considered a blue-collar entertainment. When it was in New York, it was in the working-class area. The one's I've talked to took pride in what they did. They felt they were elite entertainers. "They seem like genuine, well-rounded people. I don't think they deserve the reputation they had." So there he was in the summer of 1962. The Royal American Shows - lock, stock and cotton candy - had arrived on board 80 double-length railcars for Exhibition week in Saskatoon. The hot ride on the midway was the Calypso. Featured at the Grandstand were Ferry Forst, an illusionist, and Captain Schreiber's chimps and the Six Frelainis, an acrobatic bicycle troupe. "Girls! Girls! Girls!" shouted the barker outside the Club Lido Revue tent. Dennis bought a ticket and went inside. "Front-row seat," he says now. "Blaze Fury looked right at me and said hello. She was very friendly." She danced, peeled. She was a firecracker, that Blaze. "I went (to the show) every day that week," Dennis says, laughing.
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