Rorschach Lamp
My family had a lamp from the 70s that looked like this. It was red and black and looked like they had looted it from a bordello. This is a rorschach of that lamp, surely.
Ford=Fart.
have love, will travel; if you need loving, oh baby, i’ll travel
this is the first of many more TIFF film reviews to come. Sigh, bring on the festival clusterfuck! Every year I say I won’t do TIFF again, and every year I cave. I just love movies too much, and reviewing them! Being a freelance film critic always wins out over sense and reason. I’ve been covering TIFF for donkey’s years, but I’ve been a patron for a lot longer.
Actually, guess where I was the morning of September 11, 2001?
It was the really crap film Century Hotel, I only wanted to see it because I was a huge OLP fan at the time, and Raine Maida acted in the film (badly). The screening started at 8:45am. After the 90 minutes of pure oblivion, I walked out of the screening, which took place at the ROM, and called mum to say I was headed back to university for my classes.
She told me what had gone down.
I don’t think I understood the full gravity of the situation over the phone.
So I flippantly giggled.
And that’s all I want to say about that.
montreal graffitigasm time!
this was on boulevard st laurent, i think he’s holding a quill, but he’s wielding it like a weapon.
the pen is mightier than the sword, indeed.
this “world of shit” tag was everywhere.
this was off of avenue Duluth, and the following were a series of wheatpastes on the same wall. they blew me away.
the tag on them says “what if art ruled the world?” and i found similar wheatpastes by the same artists all around the plateau.
i LOVE wheatpastes, i think they are the probably among the best kinds of street art you can do. stencils, and sculpture are also among that group.
when pigs fly!
these two colourful spraypaint murals were across the street from the wheatpastes.
i don’t remember my visual mythology well, but phil said this was Thor.
oh phil, thmile when you thay that.
ha!
hahahah!! for those of you who don’t speak french, this translates to ‘the duchess of my balls.”
now now, don’t get teste.
this was buried deep an alleyway that had zero illumination, so my flash was the only way i could make out the details.
i just liked the face with the hands. his arm is like a branch i’d like to swing on.
this was purposefully placed (probably by the owners of the house) on St.Denis.
i wonder if this guy actually climbed the street light?
phil and i found this while cycling along the canal off of vieux montreal. it’s like looking in a mirror, non?
she’s SO me.
i think the tag says “dayo” and i saw that tag a lot. anyone know who “dayo” is?
i was never a separatiste, but i appreciate the sentiment.
all of the abandoned buildings along the canal are perfect graffiti spots. as our bikes approached this building, i squealed and screeched to a halt on the grass, nearly knocking myself over.
close up! i’m assuming this was done by someone named ezar. i like the mathematical symbol before his name. i learned math in french, so that symbol will always mean “donc” to me. in english, i guess you could call it “therefore.”
donc ezar, this piece looks like a memorial to someone you loved. or someone you lost. or both.
either way, nicely done.
emotions are apathetic.
this was placed on Rue Jarry, on a wall that i think belonged to a dépanneur.
i’d like to think this is a comment on what you can find in a dep.
this was in the mile end area, and i got really excited, because i’ve seen this work in toronto before!
here it is again!!
le snob. le sigh. le tired. le mew. le meow.
i think this wheatpaste is by the same “what if art ruled the world?” wheatpaster guy. it’s the same theme and style.
awww, raccoon looks snuggley. i like how this piece has the painted frame. like it’s gallery work but buried in an alley next to a construction site.
curb your enthusi-gasm.
here he is again, the “what if art ruled the world?” guy.
this “teenage hookers” was spraypainted on the sidewalk in mile end, not far from casa del popolo
we went to the Belmont, and they projected this onto the wall.
i love the word ‘scrotum.’ it’s hard to weave that word into everyday sentences. it should be a ubiquitous word, like fuck or shit.
this was in an alleyway near sherbrooke and de maisonneuve. the fleur-de-lis on the corners of the portrait make me think this dude was a quebecois political figure.
same alley.
now for some street culture in between the street art! we went to mont royal for the Tam Tams! it’s a drumming circle, similar to the one held at trinity bellwoods, except this seems to be a festival where vendours can sell things as well.
i’ve always wanted to play a djembe, but who can afford them?
i’m sorry, but i am an extremely talented photographer.
case in point!
ps, krista, that girl looks like you!
the whole weekend, i kept repeating the same dyslexic-freudian-slip in my mind:
“i freak spench and english!”
also just like in trinity bellwoods, there are tightrope walkers at the Tam Tams. this one guy was so talented, he went there and back without falling, even though it was super windy.
omfguy. i don’t know whether to sleep with him, or stuff him into a bong and smoke him.
moment of clarity, scene of beauty, mind of chrome, skin translucent.
back to graffiti!
it’s also a long way down.
you just love me for my money. ADMIT IT.
clearly commissioned, but beautiful nonetheless
for what? zee germans?
“drunk asshole construction” was actually tagged all over the plateau. either someone isn’t happy with all of the development in the area, or that’s actually his name.
i don’t know who these two guys are, but i love this stencil. it’s full of heart. stencils are great, because they force you to pay attention to the negative space, and they take a lot of prep work:) this was in an alley off of avenue Duluth, right before it pissed with rain.
woah, hello.
i don’t understand the message, but the visuals are incredible.
have Spud, will travel.
fromage.
this piece was brilliant. it’s carefully drawn, almost like dot-matrix design, then cut into stickers, and carefully placed.
it’s the kind of scene you’d find on a church window mosaic. absolutely genius.
massive wheatpaste on the Studio de la SOCIETE CANADIENNE D’OPERETTE building on rue st. denis.
this building is famous for having other wheatpastes put in this spot.
this was written on a church that was under construction. it translates to “a house of slaves, at least.” although, you could translate it to also say “a house of lesser slaves.“
someone has gone over the original tag to make it say, ‘une maisoner de se espérée en moins.” which kind of makes sense, and translates to “a home to hope less for oneself.“
when it comes to religious institutions, i am forced to agree.
i have so many TIFF film reviews to write (and more to see!), but instead, i’m making googley eyes at you.
priorities: check.
ps: i’m fucking endearing in this video.
and you’re draped on him while you’re staring at me
I can finally announce some exciting news that I’ve been keeping a lid on for WEEKS now. I am an invited panellist for the upcoming Social Media Week Conference in Vancouver! I will be discussing influence, building my personal online brand, and the influence of my social media initiatives whilst on the road. The talk is fostered by Via Rail, and they are putting me on the cross-Canada train from Toronto to Vancouver, where I will blog and live-tweet while zooming through our country’s beautiful Rockies, plains, forests, and lakes. My travel junkie virus is acting up just thinking about it!
If you’re going to the conference, or will be in Vancouver from September 19 to 23, register here to attend the event.
I’ll be hanging around for a few days after the panel, so if you’re about in Van.City and want to destroy the city in hockey-fuelled riots (I kid, I kid), you know where to find me!
More details on my panel discussion can be found here.
my follow-up post will be all about Montreal graffiti. swearsies.
so for now, just indulge me.
montreal is a city rich with my family history.
my maternal family emigrated there from lebanon at the turn of the 20th century. my paternal family emigrated there from portugal around 60 years ago. almost every street, park, market, village, or mountain is stained with the faces of my family.
the look of the houses, the wrought-iron stairwells that spiral down rue berri, the distinct joual accent, the crumble and fall of the streets in disrepair, the dépanneurs hip-jointing each corner like bolts…. as if my childhood was slapping me around, waking me up.
i was remembering that dream, of that other life i used to live. i thought i had imagined it.
it had been almost 20 years since i had seen an old friend from elementary school.
we reconnected at café névé on rue rachel, and i actually remembered his mannerisms and facial expressions.
it had been so long since i had seen him, i was beginning to believe i had made him up in my head.
growing up in quebec, we were bred (like the rest of canada) to hate toronto. then when i moved to toronto at the age of 12, i found myself converted. toronto=awesome. but perhaps because i missed out on montrealer teenage rebellion and discovery, i never developed a strong connection to the city.
minus the years that i lived abroad, i’ve spent the majority of my adult life in toronto which has a vibe and culture all its own. i love it and will always fight its corner
but now, i’m entertaining a return to montreal.
even on the Métro, bouncing about as the trains’ rubber tires rolled us from station to station, i felt somewhere familiar. somewhere that i really belonged. i fought hard to carve my name with toronto’s pen knife. but there’s enough skin left on this gal to carve another.
maybe i never wanted to return to montreal because of all the painful memories.
but that’s a blog post for another day.
philip and i have known each other for donkey’s years, we did our Masters degrees together. he likes to brag that i knew him when he was “straight.”
aw pumpkin, you were foolin’ no one.
these kids were playing jump rope in an alley off of Duluth.
zero photo-editing here. if this were black and white, this could pass for a turn-of-the-century snap.
Montreal=keepers and purveyors of vintage cool.
the de Maisonneuve cross.
my grandfather, great grandfather (et.al.) are buried up there on Mont Royal.
there’s probably no space to add me into the family plot. they’ll have to bury me sideways.
we cycled through parc jarry, and then cheered on a gay softball tournament.
40 years ago, my mother worked for the Expos in parc jarry.
phil is such a blessed character. when he laughs, his body ricochets joy. blade-worthy sharp intelligence, and loves to jaunt.
he’s also my saviour when it comes to killing spiders.
from the moment I rolled into montreal on boulevard réné levesque and gave a street kid at a red light a twoonie, my french kicked in with a throttle. for the past few years, i have maintained my french daily by switching my facebook, twitter, emails, and my blackberry to french. it forces me to practice, and it paid off. i only stumbled a bit over my conjugation (fuck you subjonctif! il faut que tu fasse un bise sur mon trou de cul).
this tex mex dinner was had on a patio in marché jean talon, which i haven’t been to since i was eight or nine years old.
my Sitto used to take me every weekend with my great aunts, and although i don’t remember much, i do remember Sitto giving me a quarter to drop into the cup of a disabled man who was selling pencils. i also remember the caged animals next to the fruit stands. they don’t sell caged animals there anymore.
he’s so fierce.
piggy backs: a billion three-year-olds can’t be wrong.
getting tanked in the graffiti alleys. we bring the party.
if you missed it in my last post, here’s the video that i made of my Montreal extravaganza.
i’m fucking endearing.
* * *
Once again, I’m reviewing films for this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, so if you see me around the festival circuit, or in the cinemas furiously scribbling, don’t hesitate to say hi.
If you mistake me for my doppleganger Rachel Weisz, don’t feel bad. Happens all the livelong day.
see what i mean?
Hey Rachel, if you’re in town for the fest, let a sistah know. Let’s walk the red carpets together and freak the shit outta the paps.
je veux que moi sur les photos, et je veux poser pour st lau!
This past Labour Day long weekend, Ford Canada generously offered to lend me a Ford Fusion 2.5. So I decided to take a road trip to Montreal! I haven’t been back to the place of my birth since 2005, so I was long overdue for a catch-up with la belle province.
I was blown away with the Fusion’s features. Not only did it have GPS, and Sirius Satellite radio, but it also SYNC’d with my Blackberry through bluetooth, so I could PLAY THE MUSIC FROM MY BLACKBERRY ON THE CAR’S SPEAKERS!! I didn’t know cars could do that! It also had a USB port to charge my phone.
It handled like a dream, such a smooth ride. I’m used to my old rust bucket cars where you think it’ll fly apart once you hit 100 kph, but as soon as I hit the Trans Canada Highway, I looked down at my speedometre and realized I was going way faster than I thought I was, because the ride was so smooth!
But I think the best feature of the Fusion 2.5 was how fricken fuel efficient it was. I kid you not, it only took a HALF TANK OF GAS to drive from Toronto to Montreal. A HALF TANK!!! When I was a little girl, and we were moving from Montreal to Toronto, we used to have to stop in Lancaster to gas up the empty Ford Taurus on the way to Toronto! My, how Ford’s have changed.
Thank you Ford Canada for lending me the sweet ride! I was really upset to have to part with that puppy!
I made a video of my Montreal extravaganza! It features me, my gay boyfriend Philip, Montreal graffiti, Bixi bikes, the Tam Tam’s drumming circle on Mont Royal, and lots and lots of hipster douchebag locations on the plateau, Mile End, Rue Duluth, Boulevard St Laurent, Boulevard St Urbain, Papineau and the gaybourhood! Enjoy!
all the girls standing in the line for the bathroom
that was the name of the first short story i ever had professionally published. I blogged about it when it happened way back in 2005… that paycheque paid rent that month. i took the above photo in october of last year during my war child challenge campaign, and this was an outtake that was never published, so i thought i’d have fun with it. the blending of two creative projects.
even though i miss house-sitting, i won’t miss that building being the only one in sight for miles in every direction.
found in the alleys behind the drake hotel. i thought Spud already was the mayor.
look closer.
the background of Ford’s stupid monkey face says “Spud 4 Mayor” over and over.
I love Spud’s work, he’s one of the greatest Toronto street artists who eludes everyone. Gregory Allan Elliot told me that some of the dudes in Kensington market know who he is and can put me in contact. His work is everywhere and has been around for years. His Ford-sperms and Ford-faces made it into my The Grid article that was published a few weeks ago. And he always seems to score the greatest walls and locations. The rooftops of Queen and Spadina have all been Spud bombed. One says “SpudR” not sure what the R is for, but hey, we know it’s him because of his style and imagery.
here are some old Spud photos that i’ve taken but have never published. this one above was found in the Ossington-Humbert alleyway (I spend most of my days in alleys, seriously). He took over an entire garage front, and even copyrighted it in the bottom right corner.
this is just a spudbomb sticker, but i love it.
when i grow up, i’m going to bovine university.
this is a moo point.
you know, it’s like a cow’s opinion. it doesn’t matter. it’s moo.
i published a photo of this exact same piece a few months ago, but it was someone else’s photo. thought i’d go back and take my own, for copyright/ownership purposes.
i have another photograph of a piece that was put up in graffiti alley, it’s the exact same rob ford face, but instead of “piss here” it just says “ass.”
hhaha! this is in the alley behind dovercourt and queen. the “work in progress” has always been there, but like the new writing to the left indicates, it has been a work in progress for EONS. C’mon son. GET IT TOGETHER.
do you see what i see?
so fucking cool. this was on abell street behind the wreckage of construction.
i love the unused/abandoned storefronts along queen west.
speaking of Gregory Allan Elliot….see what he did here? He took a black marker to the movie poster for Colombiana… so fucking clever, sir. Yes, I know it’s him because the gun is now shooting his “heart/love” symbol.
the night, with garin, outside the drake hotel, where the woman with the typewriter sat on the sidewalk and tapped poems for passers-by. it sounded like morse-code.
headlines the day after Canada went into a state of mourning…
i was walking along Bloor and this guy was just sitting there holding this while fondling his smartphone.
fanks for letting me take your picture, guy.
it’s the fat-lip twins!
my wifey is so nom-nom-nom.
as i spoke about before, Ford Canada is lending me a car for this Labour Day long weekend (Ford Canada recognizes exceptional awesomeness, clearly) , so I’m going on a roadtrip! I’m going back to the place of my birth, Montreal, to hang with my gay boyfriend, my old school mates, to practice mon français (maudit enfant chienne), and wander about to see what’s cool around the plateau since i left at the age of 12.
frankly, after all that i’ve been going through lately, this opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time.
hopefully i’ll find some amazing Montreal graffiti, and see some great Montreal theatre!
if you have any graffiti/theatre leads, please send them my way. or if you’re throwing a hipster douchebag party event clusterfuck that kyboshes other attempts, let a sistah know.
bloggin will resume next week.
à la prochaine, mes ti-choufleurs!
we spies. we slow hands. killer for hire, you know not yourself
in the middle of the night, i am the girl biking in and out of toronto alleyways. my basket carries music, sending the raccoons scurrying behind wheelie bins and the cats under mufflers. the pavement echoes the grind of my chain and my voice, cooing. i look up to the sky, which is gauzed behind the strobe of tree tops and aching branches.
my thighs burn acid, and i need to go alkaline without the alchemy.
my body is in a constant state of metallurgy.
since my above The Grid article came out, it’s been the top story on their website, see:
if you haven’t checked it out yet, do it now.
fitting that as soon as my Rob Ford graffiti photos are published, Deadboy comes out with a new batch of Ford pieces that are so brilliant, it’s as if stephen hawking, a messiah, and gandalf made a spawn.
Deadboy, you are made of perfect jesus wizard sauce.
seriously, he is making some of the most thought-provoking street art in toronto.
he let me know the locations of his new work: Rob Ford and Doug Ford aka Tweedledee & Tweedledum:
an alleyway near Ossington and Humbert.
Queen Street West and Claremont
“Graffiti isn’t the problem. It’s society not knowing what to do with artists . . . Oh look, there’s a rose. LET’S PAVE OVER IT.”
-Ron English
Chinatown/Kensington Market
i have some exciting news to announce (and more which i cannot announce just yet, as it’s still in the works… suffice it to say, September is going to be an exciting month).
the first is that Ford Canada is lending me car for labour day weekend.
yes, you read that right.
sometimes having a social media presence has untold perks, which has slowly begun to reveal itself to me.
they approached me with the offer, and we’ve been ironing out the details for a while. so what am i going to do with a luxurious hybrid from september 1-6th?
i’m driving to montreal.
i haven’t been back to la belle province, the place of my birth, since 2005, so i am long overdue.
and you will witness the rediscovery of my hometown, as i will be blogging, vlogging, and tweeting the snot outta this trip!
thanks Ford Canada and the good peeps at National (hi matt!). we fit together like the ignition and the key.
vroom vroom.
i always thought “Adam’s Apple” was a strange name.
eve gave adam a forbidden fruit, he swallowed it, and desire caused their expulsion.
now, men must forever carry lust in their throats.
and isn’t it just so apropos that women, naturally, are rather good at bobbing for apples.
a conversation i overheard this week:
Gal #1: “I’m from the south, flirting is part of my heritage!”
Gal #2: “What does that mean?”
Gal #3: “It means her mother was a slut too.”
my past few posts have detailed the good bike project here in toronto, and here are more finds to add to the growing list of fluorescent cycles peppering the city, adding flavour.
this albany find was particularly important to me.
if you don’t know, jane jacobs was a local activist & urban planner who singlehandedly prevented the spadina expressway from ruining toronto-the-good. without her intervention, the city would have erected that gaudy monstrosity, destroying homes, communities, urban flow, cultural contentment….and even this blog.
odd that the albany-jane-jacobs bike wasn’t placed on spadina….
i see this “TOKYO!” tag all over the city, although many of their occurrences have been painted over or blasted off since the spring.
as Rob and i spent a night pushing our dead-body bikes across Bloor street, we came across this virtually untouched tag.
i cannot pass this tag without humming this chorus. it’s like a tick.
…where the demons from my past leave me in peace.
this is better than “stop, hammertime.”
the first photo at the very top of this post was an outtake. i’d heard a beautiful mural of a couple kissing was going up near Bloor and Bathurst, and snuck around the area at night to photograph it. My camera kept going out of focus right when the shutter clicked.
so i decided to make something out of the outtakes (creativity always affects something previously thought unusable. there are no lost causes).
hence, the photo at the very top.
and this one below.
can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart and soul? this is a wasteland now.
