Seashell launches

Some photos from last Sunday's launch of Theo's new CD, which, despite the weather, was very well attended.

Wychwood Barns

A couple of photos from the first farmers' market at the newly opened Wychwood Barns, showing Café regulars Mary Anne Cree and Cary Fagan. (With Cary is his Dagnabit musical partner Ann Hartman.)

CD launch

Don't forget this Sunday's launch of Theo Heras's new CD, "Seashell, Sing a Song to Me," from 2:00 until 4:00 p.m. at the Lillian H. Smith Library, 239 College Street (1 block east of Spadina).

A winner

Congratulations to Gil Gauvreau for winning in the "green scene" category of Mobifest on Wednesday evening. Some of the Café regulars were there to cheer Gil on.

Ninth session

Thanks to all those who participated in last month's session. We had ghost stories to share and heard another chapter from Celia's novel.

The café is now closed for the year. When it reopens, I think we'll try for something a little better planned and a little less frequent. Your comments on the matter are, of course, always welcome.

In the meantime:

Gil Gauvreau has three entries in Mobifest, the cellular phone film festival.
Winners will be announced on November 19, at 7:00 p.m.,
at the Revue Cinema, 400 Roncesvalles Avenue,
three blocks south of the intersection of Bloor and Dundas Street West.

Theo Heras is launching her new CD "Seashell, Sing a Song to Me" on
Sunday, December 7
2:00-4:00 p.m.
at the Lillian H. Smith Library
239 College Street (1 block east of Spadina).

Eighth session

Thanks to all who attended last week's session. The "sleep" theme appears to have been a non-starter, as there were no contributions (at least, none ready to be presented).

Theo Heras, recently returned from Copenhagen and Paris, spoke about her new CD Seashell, Sing Me a Song and played us a couple of tracks from it. (More on this later.) Giovanna Riccio, recently returned from Italy, read several poems, some of which were inspired by her stay there. Celia Lottridge, recently returned from Tennessee, read a chapter from her YA novel Home is Beyond the Mountains. Courtney Fairweather, recently returned from B.C., spoke to us about her video project, which involved taping interviews with former classmates at a highschool reunion. (Mean girls, we were glad to hear, don't always have happy futures.) Diane Bracuk read from a short story concerning the fragile link between mother and daughter in the aftermath of a particularly reprehensible crime. Finally, we all did a cold reading of Bernard Kelly's short comic script Heist for Heist's Sake.

TUFF enough

Here, finally, is Gil's video itself. (Check out his other contributions to YouTube under the pseudonym "iraqiwar.")



And here, for the record, is Bernard's own (non-finalist) entry in the category "Urban Natural," with a somewhat after-the-fact manifesto:



Cela se vibre, la nature ! Comme un enfant, elle se fabrique partout les courbes, les lignes parallèles, les silhouettes carrées, les angles aigus ; elle s'envoie les X et les O ; elle s'exprime avec ce que nous lui avons abandonné ; et s'il n'y a rien que l'air avec quoi dessiner, elle en utilise sans réserve, se faisant le mouvement même.

Urban Growth online

Gil's video is accessible for viewing at the TUFF website. Take a minute to watch it and cast your vote before September 11. And if you're on a subway platform on September 10, look up: that may be "Urban Growth" playing on the monitor above you.

Session suspended

In deference, not to say abject surrender, to the Labour Day weekend and all its distractions, we've decided to forgo a session this month. Next month (and I've been warned several times that the last Sunday of September is the date for WOTS, to which some of you may be pledged, so the 28th isn't definite – it may be the 21st) the theme of sleep/sleeplessness will remain current and, I hope, inspiring to those who wish to work with it. Other subjects, of your own choosing, are of course still welcome.

TUFF

Congratulations to Gil Gauvreau for having his short video "Urban Growth" (which is also the name of the category entered) selected to be shown at this year's Toronto Urban Film Festival.

From http://www.torontourbanfilmfestival.com:

Wednesday September 10th

Urban Growth – from skyscrapers to suburban sprawl
Selected by Richard Fung:
“We celebrate the healthy growth of a beautiful shrub, but we dread the malignant growth of cancer cells in our bodies. The videos in this program respond to the full range of meanings associated with urban growth: from the flowering of diversity in the metropolis to the blight of urban sprawl.”

Seventh session

A very small number in attendance for this month's session. Little wonder, seeing as we're right in the middle of the holiday season. However, we who were there (here) did amuse ourselves. On the "café" theme, Celia Lottridge read two pieces, one a memory of an incident of racism in a diner, the other a rejoinder of sorts to David Sedaris:

While I was contemplating the importance of cafés in my life I read an interview
with David Sedaris in the Globe & Mail.
David Sedaris (he said) does not go to cafes. In Paris. Where he lives. God, no.
From which I conclude
David Sedaris owns an espresso machine. Or he drinks instant coffee.
David Sedaris has a room with no books, no files of bills, no applications to submit, no
bed, no stove, no TV. A room of his own.
David Sedaris does not have others who tap on his door and say, “Are you busy?”
David Sedaris has the will or the ego to ignore phone, e-mails and the above-mentioned stacks of to-be-dones.
David Sedaris cannot go to a café in Paris without being besieged by people who love or
hate his books. Or by dear friends who must have a word, a chat or a long
conversation

David Sedaris does not need a café. Or he lies.

But me
I need a café.
The bare square table
The coffee I did not make
The absence of everything that is mine
And people who surround me but do not know me.
That is my café.
So when you see me there, remember,
I am not the woman you know
I am in Paris. In a café. Ignoring David Sedaris at the next table.

[© Celia Lottridge]

Gil Gauvreau described a video he might have made if he had had the time – which would have seemed like cheating if he hadn't described it so convincingly (a coffee bean springing from his pocket at the most opportune moment). Theo Heras recited the lyrics from the blues song "Black Coffee":

I'm feeling mighty lonesome
Haven't slept a week
I walk the floor and watch that door
And in between I drink
Black coffee ...

(Music by Sonny Burke, lyrics by Paul Francis Webster; published in 1948.)

For his contribution, Bernard showed a short video entitled "café ... coffee ... cafard." Below is the espresso version from YouTube:



Bernard and Gil also showed the videos they had entered in the Toronto Urban Film Festival (TUFF). With his, Gil demonstrated how the addition of a little voiceover can change the tone considerably.

Finally, Courtney Fairweather read a touching piece about the surprise and annoyance occasioned by a death notice.

Pig fat

Congratulations to Diane Bracuk for having her article on Warsaw published in today's Globe ("Going whole hog in Warsaw," Travel section, p. T3). May it be the first of many.

This month's theme

The theme for this month's session (July 27) is "café," to be taken in all its senses and connotations: a place, a sociopolitical phenomenon (Starbucks, Tim Horton's), a drink, a colour, an overture (first meeting for coffee), an envoi (last meeting for coffee), a touchstone (Paris, Vienna, Rome), a process (roasting, grinding beans, espresso machines, etc), a source of comfort, a cause of anxiety, and so on.

heat (ice) video

For those of you who missed it, here is the (murky, jerky) YouTube version of my video:

Sixth session

A muggy afternoon, as predicted, one might say, by the choice of theme, which was interpreted variously by those who participated. Giovanna Riccio read two poems, one particularly memorable for its reference to "nice Italian girls" and how eager they were to enjoy "God's love." Celia Lottridge, recently returned from an awards ceremony in Austria, told us that she normally doesn't write poetry, but that the theme had reminded her of Kansas summers and hence inspired the poem she then read. Diane Bracuk entertained us with an essay on amber, a sample of which she was wearing as a pendant. Theo Heras noted some curious entries in the dictionary under "hot" (hot cockles, for instance) and improvised a circle game on the sentence "That's hot, honey." Bernard Kelly and Gil Gauvreau both showed videos. Bernard's was entitled "heat (ice)" and starred, if that's the word, a mason jar full of ice cubes melting to the beat of Charles Trenet's song "Fidèle." Gil's had a three-part structure, the first part depicting an ailing radiator, the second a key scene from Body Heat, and the third a full-on summer rainstorm. Courtney Fairweather, though unable to attend, submitted a fiery photo [see below].

Non-thematic contributions were also made, of course: Giovanna read several more poems. Diane read the beginning of a short story, the principal character of which was a yoga instructor and the location a swimming pool. Bernard read the first half of a dramatic monologue very tentatively entitled "En camaïeu." (What that technique has to do with marital discord, Manhattan architects, and the town of Rimini the author, for one, is hoping will become clear in the next instalment.)

In their own words:

Courtney Fairweather writes:

MOLTEN BRONZE: Walking around York University campus, I always gazed longingly through the two-storey glass wall of the sculpture studio. Thus, when I got the opportunity to become a student of the Visual Arts program, Foundry was the first course I signed up for.


The glowing cauldron of melting bronze and the ribbons of metal pouring into the moulds fascinated me. On the one hand, there was the shimmering beauty of this impossible liquid. On the other, there was the thrill of the danger. Dressed from head to toe in silver suits, only the professor and the technician were allowed to pour. One small move in the wrong direction, one tiny spill and a person could be incinerated.

Despite the danger, I was intrigued and one day when the cauldron was open, I approached. Before I could even press the shutter, I felt my skin begin to sear and my camera became hot. But I got my shot and then got out of the way … really fast.

---

Gil Gauvreau writes:


The interesting thing about photographing rain on a window pane using a telephoto lens is that it keeps the background in soft focus and as a result you get these abstract images. And with video they are constantly changing in an endless stream from frame to frame.


When being photographed, rain has to be backlit or it barely shows up.


Even a frame with the background completely out of focus displays isolated silvery patterns

Then again ... again

Okay, I take it back.

This is hot enough, thanks.

Umbrella in hand

Gil's comment on yesterday's post:

Hmm...you may have something there.

I too have been waiting for ol' Sol to make an appearance and brighten my video horizons, but without luck so far and the forecast sprinkles little hope in that direction.

I've never done a heat video carrying an umbrella, so we shall see ... .

Heat, in search of

As we draw near to the next session, I'm beginning to wonder whether I shouldn't have made the theme of the exercise "precipitation" or "rain" or "thunder and lightning" or "all wet" or something more of a match for the weather we've been having. My own expectations, of an inspiring heat wave or two, have been completely disappointed since the beginning of June. (Then again, beware of what you hope for. At least this keyboard isn't melting between my fingers.)

Photo: Getty Images

Stills from Gil's first home movie

Gil Gauvreau writes: Here are a few stills from My First Home Movie: A Tale of Two Cities (shown at the third session in April).

On my first day in Beijing, the entire city was drenched in a dense fog that obliterated everything, including Tiananmen Square.



However, the next day a wind from the east cleared the fog out, making the heart of the Middle Kingdom visible again.



On one side of the square lies the Museum of the People’s Republic of China. It is a gigantic building holding all the national treasures of China. However, a sign said the museum will be closed from 2007 to 2010 (i.e., during the Olympics), which I thought odd inasmuch as the official Olympics count-down clock stands right in front of it. It appears they have posted a guard to hold back the expected hordes of angry and disgruntled tourists.



Something I noted in Beijing was a distinct absence of portraits or statues of Mao. I did, however, find this one mounted at the back of a CD store. I am not sure that Mao would have been as amused as he looks here.



A true delight of Beijing is the Temple of Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC).



On the day I went, I was the only visitor to the Temple and found it to be one of the most serene places on earth.



There are several places where you can gain access to the Great Wall of China. I went about 50 miles outside of Beijing to get this particular view.

Heat, the theme of

A good day (a good hot day) to post a reminder: For our sixth session, later this month, in addition to the usual goings-on, I'm proposing a brief associative exercise to those willing to take part (i.e., it's not art school and it's not obligatory).

Bring a photo, a drawing, a painting, a video, a poem, a limerick, a (very short) story, a song, or any other form of expression that will, directly or otherwise, illustrate the theme "heat."

Be prepared to show and tell for about five minutes.

This is not a competitve exercise. (The applause-meter will be muted and the gold stars hidden.)

Fifth session

A warm, springtime Sunday shimmering with optimism and all fifty-seven varieties of pollen. No theme this month but the somewhat recurring one of body image and (atchoo!) betrayal. To which Bernard Kelly (the sneezer) contributed with his story "The Idea." As did Diane Bracuk with her story "Shadow Self," which has recently been accepted by the astute editors at the journal Other Voices. (Congratulations, Diane.) Just returned from visits to Warsaw and Salzburg, Diane had a few traveller's tales to recount; we hope to hear more.



Giovanna Riccio ventured into creative non-fiction with her piece "The Rise of the Town," which gave a colourful description of immigrant life here and the lasting legacy of nicknames. Cary Fagan spoke to us about the banjo as an instrument and demonstrated (too briefly) what he could do with one he had made himself. Martha Baillie rounded off the afternoon with another tantalizing instalment of The Incident Report, which prompted some snorts of amused recognition from at least one librarian in the audience.

Fourth session

Yesterday we had an interesting mixture of contributions, beginning and ending, one might say, with the male gaze.

Bernard Kelly read a short story entitled "Going Along." Martha Baillie continued her reading of The Incident Report. Giovanna Riccio read several poems, including a very pointed consideration of furniture under plastic and a certain local literary celebrity. Diane Bracuk read an article she'd written on her encounter, in Warsaw, with the complexities of pig fat. Theo Heras sang two ballads from her forthcoming CD. Celia Lottridge read from her novel Home is Beyond the Mountains (Groundwood, fall 2010).

Finally, Courtney Fairweather talked to us about Vanessa Beecroft [pictured below] and Pietra Brettkelly's documentary on Beecroft recently shown at Hot Docs [http://hotdocs.bside.com/2008/?_view=_filmdetails&filmId=51988278] and read to us from her own essay on "relational aesthetics" [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Relational_Aesthetics] and the French critic Nicolas Bourriaud [pictured right].

Third session

Last Sunday we had a small but spirited group. Bernard Kelly read an "out-take" from his novel in progress. Diane Bracuk read two poems in memory of her late black lab. Giovanna Riccio continued her reading of the dramatic monologue "Vittorio." Christine Bruce shared her motivational (and pun-packed) e-mails with us. Gil Gauvreau showed us his first "home movie," with all the ironically employed tropes that that implies. Theo Heras sang two songs, one in support (or celebration) of Martha Baillie, who read (far too few) pages from her novel The Incident Report..

Some comments from the participants:

Diane: Diane Bracuk let herself go to the dogs — or at least a dog, her beloved black lab Gordie whom she sent off to Dog Heaven around this time two years ago. Walking her rambunctious, high spirited dog was a source of daily joy for her, which she commemorated in two poems, "Black Dog of Happiness" and the (very prosaically entitled) "Walking Gordie." Although she also loved her cat, her dearly departed Wussy, she promises no "Ode to Felines" at future Cafe Q events.

* * *

Christine: I read from my collection of motivational email, which I send to my flock of short-distance recreational runners to provide feedback on their goals, to reinforce lessons learned, and to encourage. The tone of these emails is colloquial and upbeat, usually identifying each member by name and by accomplishment. Further, each email reminds the group of events both past and future, so they can look back with pride and ahead with anticipation. And finally, I always try to make the emails playful so my athletes don't see the running as hard work, but rather as an enjoyable experience. I'm passionate about making people more aware of their bodies through sport, nutrition, and sleep and stress patterns, resulting in happier, healthier men and women making more intelligent fitness decisions.

For more information, visit www.therunabouts.ca.

* * *

Gil: I looked something up today (Monday, March 31) , and it turns out that "Impossible is Nothing" is not a mistranslation, but is actually the current Adidas advertising campaign slogan. Yikes! I had meant to check this possibility out at least 20 times while I was editing, but never got around to it because it just seemed like a mistake to me. But funnily enough, after screening it in a public forum, I was (belatedly) overcome with a strong urge to check it out.

For the linguists in the viewing audience, I discovered this on a Chinese-English linguistics web site.

"Nothing is impossible" is an ordinary utterance, while "impossible is nothing" has rarely been used until recently. However, few can tell whether these two sentences convey different messages. This article attempts to analyze their semantic differences by referring to predicate logic and thematic structures and reaches the conclusion that the latter conveys a different message from the former. [...] "Nothing is impossible" denies the existence of things that are impossible, by claiming that everything is possible. "Impossible is nothing" believes that the thing that seems impossible is not a fact but an opinion. [...] Impossible can be used as an adjective as well as a noun. Therefore, "impossible is nothing" and "nothing is impossible" are both correct.

Ooops...

But athletes (who may have already been exposed to the campaign) and linguists aside, I think the average person visiting China for the Olympics, and seeing the phrase for the first time, may be prompted to make the same erroneous assumption of mistaken translation (as I did) because of the plentiful examples of bad translation that do exist. (If "Tongue of Movies" somehow is proven to be linguistically correct in English, I will swallow mine forever.)

Otherwise, it was a terrific Sunday afternoon.

Camera placement

A comment from Gil on one of last month's contributions:

Gil: I wanted to remark on the style of Courtney's video. For me, one of the things that made it successful was the single camera placement and the eschewing of any editing.

If this video had been shot in the traditional fashion of long shots, medium shots, and closeups, I don't think it would have worked nearly as well. The video operates on the premise of an overheard conversation, and if the video had been cut into individual shots, the unity of time and space would have been broken. And because it functions to a large extent (for me at any rate) as an interior monologue externalized, if you were to cut to a close-up of Courtney, and we were thus made much more aware of her speaking the words, it would have required a different kind of willing suspension of disbelief. Performing primarily with her back to the camera also enhanced the illusion of overhearing something.

The camera was placed at a slightly higher angle, looking down on the scene. If it had been a ground-level shot, that could have implied that we were another character observing this (a roommate, a daughter) from another room. But placing the camera above eye level created the anonymous "fly on the wall" perspective.

Nonetheless, if you were to announce to someone they were going to look at an eight minute video shot from a single stationary camera angle, you ordinarily might expect to hear murmuring of some sort. But here, it was a case of the camera being in the right place at the right time.

Slight clarification

Better and better: Martha will, as hoped, read from her new novel, The Incident Report, but Theo will be singing a song in accompaniment. Exactly which song we will have to wait to hear.

Line forming

It's only mid-March but already the line is forming. Giovanna has promised to read the second half of the poem she began to read to us last month. Gil, despite epic obstructions created by not quite malevolent software, has finished editing a video account of his visit to China, which he will show us. Theo is at work on "a couple of songs." Christine intends, she tells me, to do a performance piece based on her instructions to runners. Martha, I hope, will read from her new novel. And I'm tinkering with a couple of pieces, one of them yet another monologue.

Want to get in line? Use the comments button.

First session

Our first session, at the end of January, included a talk and performance (on the mandolin) by Cary Fagan and a story by Mariella Bertelli about her experiences with the Roman bus system.

Second session

Our second session, on February 24, included a monologue by Bernard Kelly entitled "The patient before me," a reading by Diane Bracuk of Czeslaw Milosz's poem "And yet the books," a short video by Courtney Fairweather entitled "The date," and a reading by Giovanna Riccio of her own poem "#1 — Vittorio."

In their own words:

Diane: As per your request, here's the poem by Czeslaw Milosz, the Polish poet who won the Noble Prize for Literature in 1980. I read it as a tribute to Val Ross, whose innate grace — both as a person and writer — I respected and admired. This is just another variation of "their words will live on" theme I suppose, but I like his suggestion in the last lines, that some works are derived from people, but also from divine inspiration.


AND YET THE BOOKS

And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
"We are," they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it's still a strange pageant,
Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.

Berkeley; 1986

* * *

Courtney: I was glad of the opportunity to show my 10 minute video of "The Date", an improvised monologue delivered in front of a full length mirror while trying on various outfits for a blind date. Body image and the pressure women feel to please men were my central themes.

I appreciated the laughter and praise of those who viewed it. Watching it again, I could see points where a little editing would have been valuable.

* * *

Giovanna: #1 — Vittorio: A dramatic monologue with the listener identified — so an elderly widowed Italian man is being visited by his wife's sister. The ensuing dialogue is a reflection not on loss of the old country which will make it nostalgia, but on fragments of a life story that illuminate the character and unfortunate circumstances that result in a loss for everyone of a gifted voice.The circumstance are particular but hopefully transcend into the universal and describe a silencing that happens everyday in our world because of poverty and a forced immigration that results from it.