Across the world, seeking hope

This week is the long-awaited (and oft-postponed) trip to the Vatican for a delegation of Indigenous people. They're there to see the pope on what I feel is an excursion for hope. Hope for an apology from the pope on behalf of the Catholic Church, hope for meaningful settlements and the return of plundered artifacts, hope most of all, for healing. 

The group ranges from elders to youth, all of whom have been affected in some way by the trauma of residential schools, whether because they attended these 'schools' or whether they're among the many affected by the generational after-effects. 

I love the fact that music is one of the gifts being brought to the pope. Here's a link to a 45-second video of two young Métis who brought along their fiddles. 

Magic in the forest

Even though Solstice has come and been, it hasn't been easy to convince myself that it's summer. It might be officially so, but the weather hasn't agreed. It's been cool temps, with the occasional light rain spitting just enough to dampen spirits.

Although I've put in some hours on a contract project, made a few jars of jam, and kept up with the usual domestic chores, with the weather so cool, I've mostly just wanted to curl up with a comforter, quietly turning pages, reading. And while I've managed plenty of that, yesterday brought a different kind of interlude.

A friend had done some repair work on an old violin we've had poking around here, and when he brought it over, he also brought his own. Not only did he bring it, he played an entire concert for us --

outdoors, of course, complete with the requisite social distancing.

It was pretty magical looking into the trees of our mini-forest while the music drifted over us. And maybe doubly magical for me, as the book I've been immersed in, Greenwood by Michael Christie is permeated with such a deep understanding of the forest and the interrelatedness of the trees that abide in it. It feels as though I've been living and breathing trees all week. Not a bad feeling at all, especially when accompanied by a private concert.

And now, I am hearing that there are violin concerts across the US, commemorating yet another man beaten to death by police. Devastating.

By the time...

No, I wasn't one of the people who made it to the festival that's come to be known as Woodstock -- an event that opened fifty years ago today. I knew a couple of folks who did make it there, and still know one who managed to get her face into the movie (though she's not thrilled about how she looks -- in the aftermath of the rain, in the mud).

Upstate New York felt too far away from where we lived in Northern Ontario. Besides, we didn't have a car. Oh yeah, and tickets for the three days of the weekend-fest sounded like such a rip-off at a whopping fifteen bucks. Whoo-ee. 

It seems kind of a shame that the anniversary event had to be cancelled, though maybe there'll be some kind of guerilla music fest sprouting up later this weekend, some kind of commemoration of the good vibes of the times. Like the poster says, it was all about Peace (and, of course, love too) -- both items we could use more of every day. 

Post-performance notes on an evening of song and light

All right, the photo is duller than most of the pics I post, but that doesn't mean that what I'm writing about was dull in any way. I'd have taken photos of the presentation if I'd been able, but cameras weren't allowed at the event.

Vancouver's Arts Club Theatre offers a program where certain of the plays they put on in the city circulate later at theatres in the suburbs. I've been a subscriber to this series in Surrey for several years, and last night's show was one of the best I have seen.

I'll admit, beyond knowing that the play had been written by Tomson Highway and that it was essentially a one-woman show, I knew almost nothing about The (Post)Mistress in advance.

The playwright's bio states that he grew up speaking Cree and Dene. So it wasn't too surprising to find the interplay of languages playing an important role in the script.

The main character, Marie-Louise Painchaud (indeed, that means 'hot bread'), who plays the all-knowing postmistress in a small Ontario town, spoke and sang in French, English and Cree. The French was easy enough for even me to understand, though English sub-titles appeared on a screen for both the Cree and the French. So yes, the show was wonderfully inclusive.

Beyond being inclusive, the message of the play was powerful. It probably sounds simplistic to say the focus of its themes was the importance of love, kindness and laughter, but that would be true.

The show seemed to be the quintessentially Canadian play -- from its use of language to its portrayal of life in a small town. How very appropriate for this, our country's 150th anniversary.

Marie-Louise was played by the remarkable Patricia Cano, who has a voice big enough to blast away anyone's winter blahs and a stage presence that nearly overfilled the theatre. She had all of us in gales of laughter and also drew us to tears (even hard-hearted moi, who rarely cries, even privately).

There are elements of the play that I can't give away; I can only encourage anyone who has the opportunity to see it to do so. Because truly, as the show ended, as I and the rest of the audience rose with applause, I could only feel that it had been an honour to be able to attend this amazing show.

Double-header plus

The weekend (and even both sides of it) contained some cool events. And although today sees the World Series getting rolling, neither of my 'double-headers' had anything to do with baseball. If they had, I certainly wouldn't have been included. When they passed out the jock gene, I seem to have been short-changed.

But I was fortunate enough to be included in two events this weekend that combined music and words. One was with the Lyric Singers of Surrey and was gloriously beautiful, if I do say so myself. The all-female choir managed to elicit chills from a number of us. 

The other event was part of an ongoing series called Mashed Poetics. It's a concept that sees a band (an always-awesome band, I must say) play the songs from one particular album. Saturday's event had the band in the guise of the Egg-Suckin' Dogs presenting Johnny Cash's album from 1968, At Folsom Prison. As for the band's name, their tradition is to take a temporary name from one of the songs on whichever album they're playing. Of all the response poems presented that night, the most powerful one came from RC Weslowki, with his piece on the 33,000 acres that were drained in the Fraser Valley during the 1920s. I'm sure that many in the audience hadn't been aware of this tragic resource theft from the First Nations People who lived there. 

As for the other sides of the weekend, Thursday was a double-header launch of books from Toronto's Quattro Press -- Susan McCaslin read from Painter, Poet, Mountain: After Cezanne, her homage to the artist. She was reading with Richard Osler, launching his collection, Hyaena Season. Although the work of the two poets couldn't have been more different, each brought my attention to topics I hadn't considered before. Osler with his tales from and about Africa, McCaslin with her sensitive interpretations of Cezanne's art and her pointing just how great an influence he was to the work of other artists. 

Monday was a presentation by the talented Stephen Collis who also has another new book, Once in Blockadia. He's been called "the most dangerous poet in Canada" but really, he may simply be the bravest, as he was one of the people arrested during the anti-Kinder Morgan protests on Burnaby Mountain. This event was supposed to be another double-header, but his scientist-colleague, an expert on climate change, had some unexpected problems that meant she couldn't. Nonetheless, even on his own, Stephen's presentation lived up to others in the series presented by SFU's Department of Humanities. 

With this much going on, some simple nights of solitude sound just about right. I might even end up veging out in front of some (dare I say) mindless baseball. (Go Cubs!)

Inspiring

I'll admit it isn't very often that I find myself inside a church. Although I suspect this has something to do with my spending waaay too many hours in one -- and on my knees -- last night's church experience held no such negatives.

It was a rehearsal night for an event I am thrilled to be a part of, "Call & Response: An Evening of Song and Poetry". As one of five poets participating in this, my job is to write a couple of poems, each of them in response to two of the choir's songs.

Listening to the Lyric Singers was downright thrilling. Their voices resonated through the church and seemed to rise up and into the night. It may well sound weird, but I definitely had chills during some of the songs -- and it wasn't from the temperature, but from the power of voices interlinked in harmonies.

I've learned that this church, Northwood United, even has a jazz vespers service. I'm sure it would be worth taking in.

Inspiring? You bet. Inspired enough to put in some more time on tweaking those response poems.

Three score and ten

Seventy. If he hadn't died at 27, that's how old Jimi Hendrix would have been today.

The photos were taken at the shrine that is his gravesite, in Renton, Washington. Friends and I were taken there on a magical history tour last March, and when we left, all of us were buzzing, twanging our air guitars and singing Voodoo Chile (which my friend Paul likes to pronounce 'Voodoo Chili').

Paul then drove us further down the road, letting us know only that we were off to visit the graves of other luminaries. These sites turned out to be graves of the poet Denise Levertov and the memorable father-and-son, Bruce and Brandon Lee.

Then, while we were cruising the lanes of Lake View Cemetery on Seattle's Capitol Hill, what came on the radio, but Hendrix.

Here's a bit of a clip of what we heard that morning. Maybe not 'reverent' enough as cemetery music, but totally and completely appropriate.

Happy birthday, Jimi.

A cultural landmark

Earlier this month, I attended a Twisted Poets salon at Vancouver's Cafe Montmartre. Although it was a terrific event, featuring Diana Hayes and Taryn Hubbard, the evening was marred by the announcement that the venue would be closing by mid-month.

For years, this has been THE place for the arts -- book launches, open mic events, jazz performances, even painters in action. Readers and musicians from across the continent have performed here.

Only now, as with so many good things, it's coming to an end.

Tomorrow's Bohemian Caress looks to be the farewell event. All we can hope is that the owner Ali (who has done sooooo much for local artists, especially practitioners of the often-forgotten literary arts) will be able to recoup one of these days and open a new place that's as welcoming as the Cafe Montmartre has been.

Raise a glass and read a poem.

Eklektika

I guess that’s a made-up word, but it seems applicable to last night’s performance at the local First United Church.

Billed as “Roma Swing”, the event featured Romanian-born Lache Cercel, a maestro of the violin, along with his ultra-talented ensemble. As might be expected, the presentation included a few traditional-sounding Romanian melodies, including ones that featured Albanian accordionist, Ben Mati. Whew, his fingers flew!

But the event went farther afield, including jazz interpretations of a spectrum of music, from Rachmaninoff to Django Reinhardt. There was even a flamenco singer/guitarist. He was accompanied by a dancer whose pounding feet made me worry for the church’s polished wood floor.

A highlight for the White Rock audience may have been those spots featuring vocalist Wendy Bollard, who offered standards such as “Blue Skies” and Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ after Midnight.”

Eclectic? Absolutely. But with enough trans-European spice to warrant the made-up name, Eklektika.

In all things, balance

It might have been just the up-and-down weather, or maybe the approaching end-of-month (already?). Whatever the cause, it’s felt like a very mixed week.

Despite almost utter failure at making fortune cookies the other day (they turned out soggy and limp, hardly an inspiration for good fortune) and miserable news from nearly every part of the world, last night’s literary event in White Rock made up for a bunch of disappointments.

Cynthia Woodman Kerkham was the guest poet, reading from her wonderful new book, Good Holding Ground. For a few of those poems she was joined by local musician, Ron Bull.

I took this picture during their performance of a poem called “Ritual for the Winter Solstice.” The piece held special resonance for me as it focuses on a labyrinth that was built by men from William Head Institute on Vancouver Island.

The labyrinth is an image that works well to describe the way “We spiral into winter…”. And then consider then the fact that labyrinth walkers also turn around and retrace their steps round and round to make their exit. There it is, the hope of escape and movement again to the light. And yes, I love the fact that it was a group of prisoners who built the particular labyrinth she wrote about, the one at Victoria's First Unitarian Church.

Kerkham’s poems took us sailing off to thoughts of hope, of springtime and light. And Ron’s flute playing contributed so much, dancing around the words in a sparkling kind of counterpoint.

This morning, I didn’t attempt any complex recipes, but was delighted to find a poem pouring itself out onto the page. If only all readings could bring so much inspiration.

A better-than-fair day at the fair

Despite being regular fair-goers, when the PNE celebrated its centenary last year, we somehow managed to not get there. But yesterday we made up for it and as a reward, even the weather cooperated.

The food is always a highlight (little doughnuts, soft ice cream, perogies…), but this year the real treat was the performances we saw.

Chris Isaak and his always-hotshot band rocked a sea of people out under the stars (we even got to see the space station fly over).

The night’s tribute band Revolver peformed the music of the Beatles. I liked the fact that they didn't try to look like the original Fab Four (what could be worse than middle-aged men in tired wigs?) but offered some remarkable renditions of the songs.

For me, a dyed-in-the-wool survivor of Beatlemania, it was very cool to overhear snippets of conversation on the midway, especially from teenagers: “Hey, that’s a Beatles’ song!” Yep, the Beatles remain a band that’s pretty enduring. Nyah nyah to those all those dorky guys who used to criticize my girlfriends and me for loving the Beatles -- I guess we didn’t have such bad taste in music after all.

But the best show of the evening was another PNE freebie, the Peking Acrobats. As would be expected, all the acrobats were lean and fit and omigod-flexible; they'd probably been in training since they were tiny children.

The fellow balanced on top of all those chairs managed a number of stunts once he was up there. (To note: the legs of the lowest chair were balanced on four bottles that looked like they might have once held champagne; those in turn were on top of a very tall table).

After tilting the topmost chair, balancing it on only one of its legs, he then did a single-handed handstand while extending his legs most elegantly.

It must have taken years to become so skilled (and apparently, fearless).

As for me, I figure I’m doing well if I can balance on one leg while I’m reaching for a casserole dish on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Freedom to Read (and Write) Week

This year's Freedom to Read Week runs (officially) from February 20th to February 26th.

Once again, Marion Quednau and friends will be reading from 'challenged' materials.

Of special concern this year has been the many new forms of censorship we are seeing. A CRTC ruling saw radio stations 'bleeping' the Dire Straits hit, "Money for Nothing" for its inclusion of the word 'faggot'. And while I'm the first person to complain when the word 'gay' is used as an insult -- really, a song from so long ago seems a bit like the revisionist version of Huckleberry Finn that's been in the news. Besides, if you want to get down to it, Knopfler's song includes the term 'chicks' in what could certainly be construed as a derogatory manner -- 'chicks for free' -- come on. And heck, the dirtiest word of all is also in there: 'money'.

But much more frightening is the censorship going on in the Middle East, the blackouts that occurred in Egypt and now in Libya.

Every week needs to be a time for Freedom to Read -- and write.

The persistence of art

It's been a week filled with art -- and of just about every variety.

Tuesday was the launch of a student magazine, The Louden Singletree, out at UFV in Abbotsford. The event included readings, an art display, and an array of great snacks (always a plus, I think). The photo above is one I shot while still on campus there. Lots of great art going on in every building, it seemed.

Thursday evening was another launch, this one to celebrate Semiahmoo Arts, the re-branded version of our local arts council. Music, lots of art on display (besides the photo show in the gallery, there were displays of pottery and fibre arts too).

Friday evening, it was cool jazz renderings from Heidi McCurdy, who was accompanied by guitarist Doug Towle. This was the first in the new Friday series, "Uptown Lounge" and it's complete with wine or beer, the perfect end-of-week chill-out.

But then Saturday found two more arts -- one maybe less traditional than others. It was the morning for the annual making of the bockwurst. Looks like we'll be set again with great sausage for the winter.

Still, I have to admit the most spectacular event of the week was the performance by Vancouver's newest dance troupe, the VCDT (Vancouver City Dance Theatre). They presented an original piece, The Dali Universe. With dancers portraying the subconscious and other aspects of the internal psyche, following the 'plot' was at times confusing. But then, the question at its heart posed this convoluting thought, "Is life a dream, or do dreams help us live?"

The multimedia effects all seemed to work the night we attended, so I didn't share the complaints expressed in the Vancouver Sun's review (save for his comments about the predictability of some of the choreography, which were pretty much spot on). I also loved the 'square' skirts the dancers wore for one part of the dance. And really, who couldn't adore the melting clocks that seemed to positively ooze their way down the set.

Anyway, quite a full week. Especially for a province where the government has slashed back its arts funding so severely, I'm glad that the arts have a way of persisting.

Poetry, in triple time

Even though it isn’t quite Poetry Month, it’s been a week filled with plenty of poems. So, quick, a bit of a recap before it’s time to shut down the power in observance of Earth Hour.

Wednesday saw me presenting poems and ideas to a welcoming group of women who are participating in a Third Age Learning Program. They were responsive and warm, full of questions that helped guide the direction of my reading. They even bought into a writing prompt I gave, creating three cooperatively-written poems.

On Thursday the spotlight moved onto Carmine Starnino, a fine poet whose most recent book, This Way Out, was a finalist for the 2009 Governor General’s Award for Poetry. Besides reading in the reading series sponsored by our local Arts Council, he also did a presentation for Aislinn Hunter’s creative writing class at Kwantlen.

I’m still getting feedback today on the way Carmine’s poems affected people – as witnessed by this, part of an email from a local writer, Vaughan: "Just wanted to say that both Joan and I, it seems, resonated all day with last night's reading. Thank you ... and if you have a chance, please let Carmine know that the reading went deep for at least two people in the audience."

Then today I was able to come full circle, this time attending a workshop presentation by singer/songwriter/composer Veda Hille. We were looking at lyrics, considering different ways to approach creating them.

One of the exercises she led us through had us using found phrases as a start-up to our writing. When asked whether rhyme needs to be a component in song lyrics, Veda replied by playing one of my favourite songs ever, “Frank Mills”, from the musical, Hair. I took that as a resounding No.

The video below is a snippet of Veda performing a powerfully discordant (dis-chord-ant?) piece based on the journals of painter, Emily Carr. In it, Hille was trying to capture Carr’s anger and frustration borne out in the line, “for fifteen years I did not paint!” And yes, it seemed appropriate this performance should have happened in an art gallery.

Celebrating the Arts with The Grapes of Wrath

Even though our government doesn’t seem to value the arts, I still do. Saturday night saw a group of us heading over to our local Legion hall for a concert by the most recent incarnation of that great Canadian band, The Grapes of Wrath.

For a band made up of only two guys these days, Tom Hooper and Kevin Kane made a helluva sound and a whole lot of terrific music.

I’d gone to the event expecting good harmonies, but hadn’t realized just how well these two voices work together. Live concerts sometimes prove the power of the studio mix, but not with these guys. Sure they were singing their two parts, but there were songs where I was hearing at least three-point-five harmony. Besides learning harmonies from Simon and Garfunkel, a duo they admitted listening to, I wondered who else their early influences were – The Turtles? Seals and Crofts?

Beatles fan that I will always be, I especially loved their George Harrison tributes, their own composition as well as their cover of Here Comes the Sun. The strumming was right, the plucking of individual notes – even the right foot raised in that slow-kick clunky dance step George did. Sigh.

I bought their CD and am glad that I did. So, not only do I celebrate the arts, I support ’em. Hope you’re doing the same.

A much better than fair day at the fair

The fair in question, the PNE, would stand up to the test of anyone's notion of a state fair. it's an event with its roots in the traditional agricultural fair, only it's grown far beyond farm displays. Still, there are plenty of critters as well as displays of mushrooms and honey and other B.C. produce.

We spent most of the day there, starting with a big band performance by Dal Richards and his group. Dal's looking and sounding pretty great, especially for a guy who's going on 92.

Besides the big band experience, we took in a group of performers who go by the slightly pretentious title, Celtic Legends. This overly broad name makes them difficult to track down, still the building was packed and I wasn't the only one who seemed enthralled by their presentation. The musicians were top-notch, and I have to admit the sound of that fiddle stirs something in my blood. I wonder if my Irish grandfather has anything to do with that. And the dancers were maybe even more impressive -- with their straight backs and free-as-marionette legs, their stomping was really quite the thrill.

I'll admit I still miss the car show that was such a long-standing tradition, the demo derby. This year's replacement, 'On the Edge' was completely lame. To make matters worse, 'climax' points in the show were punctuated by the eruption of huge flames. These not only emitted a huge blast of heat, the stench from whatever fuel was used was horrid -- and strong enough that many very little children were instinctively reacting by covering their noses and mouths. So much for the fair's 'green' brags.

Much more fun, and in keeping with our traditions here in B.C. was the revived (albeit on a smaller scale) lumberman's show. Log-rolling, axe-throwing, speed-sawing and more. This is a tradition I really hope they'll decide to retain. In fact, it might be an excellent installation in the B.C. pavilion apparently still being planned for February's Olympic extravaganza.

Eating, of course, was one of the reasons we went to the fair. There's so much to choose from, you can't try even the tiniest portion of what's available. The soft ice cream (intentionally soft) might have been the highlight for me. Not something I know how to whip up at home, especially not with that curly swirl!

Of course, there's so much to see just wandering around the midway, considering the merits of various rides, and just plain people-watching.

The evening's free concert was the Gipsy Kings, and there must have been thousands crowded into the viewing areas. Big screen video made it easier for those of us in the back to see. Great sounds to round out a memorable day.

Art in the Park

Yesterday was the first in what will hopefully become a series – an event called “Art in the Park”. Even though there’s lots going on in Surrey this summer, this was a one-of-a-kinder, an arts picnic at Library Grove in Holland Park.

It was a mixed show, grounded by the music and lyrics of cellist Corbin Keep. Painters and photographers were showing and selling their creations, and four writers read from recent work.

The photo shows Lois Peterson, one of the people who dreamed up the notion of Library Grove. Then employed by Surrey Public Library, Peterson’s group envisioned a grove of trees that would stand as a symbolic ‘payback’ for trees consumed in the making of books, and also as a symbol of growth and environmental responsibility. So it seemed especially appropriate that Lois should be one of the presenters at this event. She read from Elsie and the Silver Rain, one of her forthcoming novels (she has two coming out in 2010). Other readers were Sylvia Taylor, Virginia Gillespie and me.

But hearing Corbin reminded me that the Lower Mainland doesn’t have an armlock on talent. This summer, when I was on Denman Island, I had the pleasure of meeting Del Phillips. I’ve been playing his CD nearly every time I get in the car. And each time I listen, I hear more. It’s worth clicking onto his website where you can listen to samplers from the CD, or just explore the musings of a very interesting mind. When you go there, click on ‘Impossible Odds’ for a spin through some of Del’s amazing insights and visions.

Market Day in White Rock

I suppose for many, Sunday is still a day for church-going. I'm not among that group, but hey -- whatever you believe is fine with me.

I still needed a few bits of local greens to round out yesterday's Sunday supper, so the Farmer's Market seemed like the best place to go. As usual, I ended up buying more than just those few vegies. I bought jars of honey, salsa, some baked treats, even granola.

But the real treat of the morning was running into friends, standing around and having a little catch-up chat. That kind of unplanned encounter always gives me such a strong sense of what community is all about. And maybe that's as close as I will ever again get to anything like church.

The day was cold and gusty, a big change from what we've been having, but the singers persevered. From left to right, they're locals Heidi McCurdy and Laurel Murphy. The singer on the right is Katia Leonardo, over here from Portugal. The little vid gives you a tiny sampling of what you'll hear this Wednesday if you can make it into Vancouver for a show at the Jazz Cellar.

What a great day!

Out-of-town friends are such a great excuse to get out and do something. We started at Darts Hill, a garden that's only open a couple of days each year. The friends' timing for being in town was perfect, as today was the day.

After that we took a long lazy stroll on the beach.When we came back here the friends had to grab their bags and head for the car so I could deliver them to the aiport. By now they're probably back to Denver, maybe even at home with Rudy the Dog.

When I got back from the airport run, I scooted on over to Camp Alexandra -- site of a local arts festival. Lucky me, I got there in time to catch a set by Heidi McCurdy and her band -- always great stuff. Talent galore -- and floating on a summery breeze, her voice sounds even better than it does on CD.

49 Songs for Obama

Monday the CBC is starting an all-Canadian music search. They're looking for 49 songs representing those of us who live north of the 49th Parallel. The 'winners' will go into a playlist for Obama that will supposedly be presented to him on January 20th, the day he's inaugurated as President of the U.S.

I've got a few ideas for songs I think he'd like, or maybe just ones he should listen to. Some are likely obvious, others maybe not so much.

Neil Young 's "Rockin' in the Free World".

Almost anybody's version of Leonard Cohen's beautiful anthem, "Hallelujah", but preferably Lenny's own or k.d. lang's.

And you couldn't skip the Tragically Hip. Lots of candidates for songs here, but I have to nominate my fave, "Ahead by a Century".

From here on the West Coast, I nominate Wyckham Porteous for "Deep into the Water" -- a place that Obama's certainly stepping.

For fun, the compilation should include Leslie Feist singing "1234".

Think the new Mr. Prez could use a shot of humility? He could try the Barenaked Ladies' "Celebrity". Or for that matter, if he wants to offer a recipe for the economy, how about their "Shopping" song? Or even better, "If I had a million dollars".

If you want to know more -- or better yet, you want to get a vote in, here's a link to the CBC's 49 Songs site.

And if Barack is going to understand Canada better, which songs do you suggest for him?