Care to go for a little walk – or, in truth, a rather long one? Let’s start as far uptown as I ventured on my recent stay in Harlem – at the Riverbank State Park near 145thSt, flanked by the Hudson on one side and rather large apartment buildings on the other.
It is an extensive space made for strolls, picnics, swimming in one of the Aquatic centers, admiring the beautiful view of the George Washington Bridge or taking a ride on a carousel. That carousel was what lured me to the park in the first place, I had heard that an artist had designed the creatures on it based on drawings by grade school children and that it was altogether enchanting. Wouldn’t you know it, it was closed and shuttered, the day I walked by.
I went slowly back South, walking along the elevated tracks of the subway, still in all its original glory, and noisily shaking the street every time a train comes by.
Along the street trucks are parked that deliver the fruit and vegetables for the vendors on the side walk.
Schools have names that remind of the community’s heritage
and window displays as well as murals remind us of recent history.
Close to the corner of 132ndSt and Malcolm X Ave you can hang out at the Revolution Books store, formerly located in the Village (when I lived there in the early 80s) until displaced by skyrocketing rents.
If you cross over to the East to 127thSt you can visit the brownstone that Langston Hughes occupied in his lifetime. Now a small museum and mostly a space run and utilized by the I, too Arts Collective, it features readings and other cultural events.
Here is MLK Jr. reciting one of Hughes’ poems:
Not far away are the famous Apollo and the National Black Theatre, respectively.
If you head down to 116thSt you can see the mosque on your way,
and in general admire action on the street, from advertisements to interesting footwear.
Having worked up an appetite you can make it all the way down to 109thSt, crossing over back West to Amsterdam Av and have a splendid dinner at Atlas Kitchen, where dead fish rule.
After the events of this week, every non-White or non-Christian person I know has felt an unease that topped most of what we already experienced for the last two years. For that matter, most of the Christian Whites of my acquaintance share the revulsion. It’s been a hard week living in a country where everything signals movement in a direction that is the stuff of nightmares.
I decided, then, that we all need a little break and distract ourselves with silliness, before we go back to brainstorming how to bring about a movement that is strong enough to counter the forces of money, power, racism, misogyny and xenophobia.
Thus you will see photographs today of a circus performance that was nothing but a romp. Some 8 friends decided to capitalize on their arsenal of tricks and acrobatics, with a singer tangentially leading through the show. It did not provide deeper meaning, or a social justice message, or some educational background, or floated on beauty – it was just an exuberant flouting of various muscles, postures, contortions, bodies and collective silliness that was infectious.
Clouds of confetti, over the top lighting, stunts that reminded of action movies, live music and active engagement of audience members made me think more of Mardi Gras than anything else. The audience was up and standing, clapping and shouting with enthusiasm, providing evidence for the fact how much pure escapism is occasionally needed to counter the heaviness in hearts and heads.
Finale was put on by Analog, a young German company; the showwas offered in Prague in cooperation with the Czech circus rebels of Cirk La Putyka, at the Chamäleon stage in Berlin, and in Australia, before making its way to Montreal.
One of the running gags throughout the evening was one acrobat’s love and emulation of all things Jean-Claude Van Damme (the Belgian martial arts film actor.)
Another highlight were generous helpings of shots of vodka, handed out to the audience…..
The singer in the show I saw was Iman Pearl Williams, accompanied by live drumming.
The original composer of the music was Ena Wild, who is part of the Analog troupe. Here she is in a studio gig in Berlin.
The single museum I had time to visit during my days in Montreal was chosen because of its location. It was at 25 minute walking distance from Concordia University where the circus conference took place that day and thus could be explored during the lunch break. Turns out, it was the perfect choice, for the building alone.
Arsenal Art Contemporain is located in a former 19th-century shipyard, that measures over 80,000 square feet. The building was erected in 1846 by the entrepreneur Augustin Cantin for the Montreal Marine Works and by 1857 was deemed the biggest shipyard in Montreal employing between 150 – 250 employees and producing steamboats for close to a hundred years before closing its doors. In 2011, Arsenal Contemporary took over, making just minor architectural adjustments.
The vastness of the halls lets the art breathe, unfold without crowding and bathe in light at least in some of the halls. On offer was an exhibit called Alternate Realities which was in turn wickedly sarcastic and delightfully funny, at least for this viewer, who once again ignored the demands of serious art criticism and just had a blast with a crop of younger artists who went for the jugular.
These were the only other visitors in the entire space, happily taking pictures of each other inside art….
From their catalogue: “At a time where the virtual collides with the real world, reality multiplies itself. In a world of accelerated mediatization where images are everflowing, the truth becomes increasingly hard to decipher.”
Nathalie Quagliotto Friend, 2019 Says the curator…..
And here is someone we miss:
Many Obamas……Eric Yahnker The Long Good Bye, 2017 Pastel on Paper
Here is something altogether different:
Xu Zhen Under Heaven, 2015 Same curator, I suppose. Note that this artist was already in the Venice Biennale in 2001, at age 24!
More wisdom from the curator:
John de Andrea Cierra, 2003
I was even drawn into a piece by Anselm Kiefer, who I usually don’t take to, given his loose relationship with the truth and his self aggrandizing. His painting fascinated me in this single instance perhaps because of or perhaps in spite of its German connotations and reference to religion. Here is an older review of Kiefer’s work that expresses some of my reservations in ways that are more eloquent than what I deliver.
Anselm Kiefer Der brennende Dornbusch, 2007 Mixed Media
And speaking of Germany:
Dorian Fitzgerald Haecker-Pschorr Bierhall, Oktoberfest Munich 2005 Acrylic and Caulking on Canvas
This is what it looked when you went closer to this humongous painting that went floor to ceiling. ———————-
Sculpture reigned on the upper floor –
David Altmejd Man with Black Sweater 2018 Too many media for me to write up…..rhinestones included.
My favorite was a piece by Corwyn Lund called 40 years that displayed seemingly identical round mirrors along a hallway, which, on closer inspection, reflected an ever more faded image of the viewer. My immediate question was, of course, how would it look by age seventy? And is the increasing vagueness an outcome of loss of vision, or lack of being seen?
I had no time to watch the videos, but given how much food for thought was already provided it did not seem like a big loss. I highly recommend visiting this museum if you are in Montreal – heads up, though, they have quite limited hours, 4 days total. As long as you supply the art interpretation/statement by yourself you should have quite an interesting time. That said, reading the official statements made for an amusing time as well. I certainly can’t quibble with the choice of what was displayed – a mix that made you think.
Music today is by two blind singers from Mali who have been romantic and musical partners since they met in school. Here they are describing a different reality:
The photographs today are encompassing the colorful diversity and creativity found on the streets of Montreal. My faithful readers who know my passions for all things graffiti will be glad to see I obviously scored! Again!
Behind the exuberant colors, however, darker issues are just as present in Canada as they are here in the United States. Loosely stated, they concern the relationship between state and religion, the role of religious freedom and the way in which dealing with religious issues can and has been politicized.
Just last month, for example, Bill 21 was passed in the province of Quebec, banning the display or wearing of religious symbols by public employees. That includes Jewish kippot, Christian crosses, Sikh turbans and above all Muslim women’s burquas and hijab. The bill also reaffirms pre-existing legislation that requires citizens to uncover their faces when accessing public services like municipal transit and the legal system.
Bills like these have been increasingly popular in Europe, but this is the first on North American grounds to be passed.
Bill 21 has been accused of fostering xenophobia and sexism and was opposed by the progressive government parties. It is feared to stoke the already increasing discrimination of religious minorities. Only two years after the Quebec City mosque massacre which saw six men murdered, the statistics of hate crimes have almost doubled, islamophobia being on top of the list.
Bill 21 also invoked the notwithstanding clause from the Charter of Rights and Freedom, allowing the provincial government to override the Charter for a period of five years. That means it can’t be easily dragged into court, although the Canadian Civil Liberties Association and the National Council of Canadian Muslims plan a legal challenge.
Turning to our own country, we have of course the Trump administration’s special love affair with religious freedom. I highly recommend reading yesterday’s article by Matt Schwartz on how religious freedom interpretations are utilized not only in the restriction of national issues, including the criminalization of abortion and/or LGTBQ rights, but in pursuit of changes in foreign policy. The goals of this week’s Ministerial to Advance Religious Freedom might as well be found in dystopian novels that we used to read for entertainment rather than for their predictive power.
Some of the graffiti I saw tries to address political issues, but for the most part it just made the city beautiful. Which is a good thing in its own right, I guess. We need distraction from the dark worries.
And here are Canadian children singing the Alhamdoulillah!
My time to explore Montreal proper was limited. I walked during the lunch hours of the conference, and in the early evenings before attending circus performances. Happily, hat limitation ensures that I will return soon to this enchanting city to do some serious exploration.
That said, here are some pictures of the modern core of the city, including a museum district that also has performance halls.
Next are the distinctive gables that you find in the older neighborhoods, including the one where I lodged in a lovely if slightly dilapidated apartment near Square Saint Louis.
Finally, there are the circus-related buildings in the neighborhood of Saint- Michel. Cirque de Soleil has its (architecturally truely uninspired) headquarters there.
It is the most diverse neighborhood of the city, and indeed one of the poorest in Canada. 40% of the adult population do not have a high school diploma, nearly half of children live below the poverty line, unemployment rate is 14%, and half of the residents are immigrants. Cirque de Soleil used to be a generous neighbor, supporting many local causes until it was bought out by US and Chinese investors. Here is what’s reported to be happening now in the name of profitability.
What happened before, though, was a stroke of creative genius: 20 years ago, Cirque du Soleiland other major circus players, the National Circus School and the En Piste circus arts national network, city and community partners came together to build the Cité des arts du cirque with TOHU, a non-profit organization whose aim was to create the world’s biggest international circus community. “The goal was to build a critical mass of infrastructure for creation, training and dissemination in the field of circus arts in the same location. The name was chosen to represent something dearly intended: It is derived from the French expression tohu-bohu, which alludes to the chaos and energy that precedes renewal and transformation.“
Tohu’s building is a green building, LEED certified, surrounded by vegetable gardens. The 360 degree hall is a marvel, with a capacity for 1200 spectators; the building also has spaces for art exhibits, meetings and so on. TOHU puts on the annual Circus Festival that presents circus activities throughout the city, on the streets and in different venues.
And here are glimpses of the circus school.
Music today features Snarky Puppy, a jazz collective slated for the International Jazz Festival at Montreal. I chose a tune from their new album Immigrance, in honor of the the Saint-Michel neighborhood.
Talk about a color-coordinated city: Montreal, Quebec has a distinct preference for red and yellow. Or so it seemed to my eye when getting glimpses of the environment outside of circus world where I spent most of my hours last week.
The houses are red and yellow, or yellow and red, take your pick.
So are the decorations.
Or the bikes.
Or the public parks and playgrounds.
The subway sports these colors,
and people do their best to coordinate.
Some wear yellow,
some wear read,
some wear both.
It all makes for an exuberant environment, symbolic for the city’s feel during the summer festivities as a whole.
I’ll report about more detail this week! We’re back to normal…..
Music today is from the currently slated Nuits d’Afrique Festival in Montreal. The fabulous Almeida wears, who would have guessed, yellow and red in alternation in the clip… music starts at around 1:30 in the video.
In case you think I’m going to report on my exercise class and its goal of providing me with attributes I thoroughly lack, think again.
For you vicarious pleasure I am instead providing images of those in true possession of strength and flexibility, the student of Montreal’s circus schools.
I am in Montreal to photograph TOHU’s International Circus Festival which puts on various professional shows and different acts every night in pedestrian zones that allow families to wander and enjoy the entertainment. The mood is ebullient, the streets ring with laughter and shouts of admiration, a sense of shared excitement creates community.
It is joy squared.
I will write in detail about the shows I saw when I am back. Today are just some glimpses of what is going on in the streets in the evening.
On the roof tops Not just the public the follows the act with rapt attention….All clear! Phew
And then there was Audrey Hepburn, who got steamy very fast…
I fear all those nice folks who recently signed up for the blog expecting political discourse are in for a rude (if temporary) awakening. It’s going to be “Things I did during summer vacation” yet for a while. No worries, the catastrophic thinking always returns… but in the meantime let’s celebrate the glory that is the Pacific Northwest while I work on some longer pieces.
Jacksonville, Oregon, for example is worth a visit, as I found out last week when I was there for something like 12 hours. 2 of those hours were pleasantly spent in a German Biergarten, where the menu spelled the essential terms not always correctly, and had peculiar recommendations for preferred dishes by the Frau. The Mrs., for example, favored Fisch und Chips, you know, that famous German dish.
The duration needed for my beer and Schnitzel sandwich in 95 degrees heat was determined by the fact that throngs of revelers for the Britt Festival got a liquid start at the beer garden, to be then repeatedly picked up by a bus blasting loud Beatles music for a sing-along in anticipation of the concert, ferrying them to the amphitheater. The summer-long festival puts on an impressive array of music, classical and otherwise, seating over 2000 outdoors in a town that counts barely more people as its citizenry.
Founded in 1851 during the gold rush, Jacksonville flourished until the 1880’s when the diminishing returns of mining and being by-passed by the railroad slowed the city’s growth. As an unintended result, the historic buildings of much of old town have been preserved, and have been designated a National Historic District in 1966. The buildings might be historic, but their contents are surely gentrified. A lot of money from the area’s vineyards, horse breeding and tourism is showing up to connect to expensive things, antiques included.
The banner on Jacksonville’s website claims: The historic small town that never gets old. That motto is closer to the truth than one would wish, as a short visit to the historic (and still active) cemetery reveals. So many graves of baby, kids who lived but for 15 days, lovingly maintained since the 18oo’s.
The sections were designated into Jewish, Catholic, Masons and City (the last one perhaps an indication of too many denominations along the protestant branch to be spelled out.)
Spelling remains difficult
The sign that caught my interest was that for the Redmen. Ever heard of them? Me neither.
It is one of the oldest fraternal organizations in the US, dating back to 1765 and was eventually named the Improved Order of Red Men. Their remaining count nationally is 15.000 these days. It is a fraternity for White men only, structured after what those White men believed to be tribal Indian government and rituals – here is Wikipedia:
The Order has a three tiered structure. Local units are called “Tribes” and are presided over by a “Sachem” and a board of directors. Local meeting sites are called “Wigwams“. The state level is called the “Reservation” and governed by a “Great Sachem” and “Great Council” or “Board of Chiefs”. The national level is the “Great Council of the United States”. The Great Council consists of the “Great Incohonee” (president), and a “Board of Great Chiefs”, which includes the “Great Senior Sagamore” (first vice-president), “Great Junior Sagamore”, “Great Chief of Records” (secretary), “Great Keeper of the Wampum” and “Prophet” (past president). The headquarters of the Order has been in Waco, Texas, since at least 1979.[9] They maintain an official museum and library in Waco
One of the founders in both the organization and local dairies. One wonders what the puddle is underneath the cows.
Led me to associations of milk jugs…
And these are the order’s goals:
Love of and respect for the American Flag.
Preserving our Nation by defending and upholding the principle of free Government.
America and the democratic way of life.
Preserving the traditions and history of this great Country.
Creating and inspiring a greater love for the United States of America.
Helping our fellow men through organized charitable programs.
Linking our members together in a common bond of Brotherhood and Friendship.
Perpetuating the beautiful legends and traditions of a once-vanishing race and the keeping alive some of the traditional customs, ceremonies, and philosophies.
I couldn’t decide If the last bit on the “vanishing” race or the fact that the order’s auxiliary women’s group was named Pocahontas was the irony that killed me. Luckily I was revived by sights like these, an acorn woodpecker, a bird I had never spotted before.
Music today is also new to me: The Britt Festival commissioned a piece by Christopher Cerrone played by Third Coast Percussion. You have to travel to the Britt to hear it, but here is something from an earlier work:
And here is a tiny desk concert by Third Coast Percussion:
While my husband communed with the DA in Coquille, I communed with the dead in Bandon. The dead seals, that is, found on the beaches. Upon excitedly reporting my photographic ventures to him he responded with a laconic “Ah, Heuer heaven!” It’s nice to know, 37 years on, you’ve married the right guy.
Heuer heaven it was, starting with the evening light when we arrived late the day before. In the morning, there was fog that made the air undulate in soft waves, light that was a shimmery veil, and temps that allowed me to breathe again after the heat during the drive down.
The rocks along this stretch of coast are spectacular.
As are the formations of wood, drift or otherwise, almost petrified.
So are the fields of wildflowers covering the steep cliffs descending to the beaches.
It is also by all reports a birder’s paradise during migration season. For me, in that regard it was slim pickings. Seagulls, a few adventurous crows, an unidentified seabird, and plenty of vultures.
First I thought they were waiting for him,
but then realized they feasted on the dead seals.
I soon turned my attention to the live ones…..
Bandon is a city in Coos County, Oregon, United States, on the south side of the mouth of the Coquille River. It sports about 3000 inhabitants, and on its list of attractions you find: Bandon Bait and Tackle, Tony’s Crab Shack and a variety of guide services for deep water fishing, Rogue river rafting, and estuary paddling.
Old town is a hotchpotch of stores hat supply the fishermen and process the catch, as well as venues that offer touristy kitsch. There is a working marina, plenty of eateries, and a pleasant boardwalk.
And then there is Henry the Fish, reminding us with detailed whim about what we’re doing to the oceans.
Yup, Heuer heaven.
Made even better with a rare piece of music by one all but forgotten:
I have to give this to the men in my life – in addition to making me happy, they expand my culinary repertoire. My youngest is always good for a 5-star meal, my oldest has introduced me to stuff I didn’t even know existed, and my Beloved can be counted on to drag me to out-of-the-way dives that provide memorable lunches.
So it was yesterday when a boring drive on I-5 down to Medford was briefly interrupted because we HAD to grab a hotdog in Albany. Am I glad we did.
The joint was a little shack at a dreary street corner. The proprietor, looks and temperament bearing some resemblance to Bill Murray whose portrait was lovingly pasted on the entrance door, has served sausages here for decades. The kitchen where they make the sausages is right next to the counter, a few chairs allow people to eat if they don’t want to bring the stuff home.
You compile your own condiments on a bun, with plenty to choose from, and then he puts your freshly cooked/grilled/roasted sausage on top. The selection is huge and the quality amazing, the German Bratwurst (what did you think I’d get?) matching the real thing from back when it was home.
The guy flirted, the guy joked, and was happy to explain when I asked about one of the things on his wall, a plaque applauding him on his photography in France. He had been visiting his brother-in-law there who worked as a cartoonist/graphic designer for a local newspaper. Photographs that he took of local children at a playground where picked up by the newspaper and the plaque was its thank you.
Then we got into a most interesting conversation about how it was possible to do not just street photography but photography of children many years back before all the fear over privacy or, worse, suspicions of nefarious motives, took over. Once again I met a truly interesting and thoughtful character in a most unexpected setting. I love my life.
