SEE you later?

While ingesting a delicious spicy vegetable soup at Two Rooms this Saturday, I was leafing through the most recent SEE magazine, Edmonton's alternative weekly. It wasn't until I finished reading Scott Lingley's article "The Life Of An Alternative Weekly" that I realized that this was the farewell edition of SEE! As I have been sequestered in the north and had no idea that SEE magazine was nearing a close, I have now accepted my new status as ignoramus.

So in a eulogizing attempt to capture my sentiments I will say to SEE, I'm lost without you.

I'll miss your provocative covers and broad-spectrum listings. You represent for me what Edmonton has to offer. You always did my homework for me so I always knew where to go, what to eat, and what to wear. Without you, I've been stripped of my ticket into B-list events. How will I feel good about myself without knowing what obscure jazz trio is playing at the Yardbird or which dive is hosting open stage this Tuesday? How will I know where the best place to eat in town is and which bar on Whyte ave to boycott because of graffiti vandalism scandals? How will I not feel bad about myself every week when I can't finish your crossword because it's too hard? Who will photograph me for the April 10th, 2008 section of My Look? (is shameless self promotion frowned upon?) And lastly, how will I turn my nose up to VUE now that I know you have merged after so many years of rivalry?

Goodbye SEE, I wish I could say I'll see you around, but hey, without the magazine to dictate to me where the cool places are, I will have no idea which hip spot you'll turn up at.

~Single Tear

Kinuso: On Location

Dear Readers,

I have not forgotten about readmonton. I have been teaching in Kinuso, Alberta compiling anthropological information about the subtle, yet vibrant, arts and culture here. Thus far, the most inspiring art I've discovered comes out of the aboriginal community. The beading, sewing, and painting in these parts are spiritually inspired and have a close connection to nature and the metaphysical world. To follow the day-to-day experiences see greatwhitenorth.

~H@nka

On Location: Toronto

Apparently there's this new feature on facebook where you sign in on your smart phone to where are you are so all you're contacts know where you are and so you can see how many of your acquaintances are in your vicinity. Consider this as me signing in to Toronto.

Toronto is one of these cities who's face keeps changing every time you visit. You can put money on it that I will never know where I'm going or where we've just come from. It's not that I'm bad with direction, it's just that Toronto has countless points of interest where Edmonton mainly has two (you know what they are). During my last visit I discovered Roncesvalles, a Polish burrow, St. Lawrence Market, Kensington Market, and the shops on Queen St. West. Last visit included several cultural happenings including the World Press Photo exhibit depicting some of 2009s most important photojournalist shots. See above photo for photograph by Italian Pietro Masturzo who won the top prize with his picture of the rooftops of Tehran taken in June 2009.

This visit to Toronto has also been a cultural cultivator. Upon discovering that Toronto Public Library has a killer Museum and Arts Pass (MAPS) that is FREE, I experienced two museums in three days. Up first was the Textile Museum of Canada. With an impressive name like this I was expecting to be swaddled in yard and yards of fine oriental silks and Persian rugs. This, however, did not happen. Among a handful of ancient kimonos and religious shawls hung a poster of the textile storage facility which depicted rows and rows of fabrics from around the world. Sadly, the textile museum displayed very little of the historic fabrics that they have in their possession. A redeeming feature of the textile museum, however, was their interactive looming room. One very friendly curator graciously explained how to set up the loom (a very time-consuming task) and answered any questions we had on looming. I must admit, since I've started knitting, I have a new found appreciation for the cottage industry. A second redeeming quality of the Textile Museum was Kai Chan's exhibit A Spider's Logic. Chan's believes in the three dimensional thread as its own medium which influences much of his earthy and intricate sculptures.

The Gardiner Museum of Ceramics was our second opportunity to take advantage of out MAP pass. As the dutch household stipulates one checks the bottom of blue-on-white ceramic for it's Delft's authenticity, I became a pottery critic at an early age. The ceramic museum housed floors of decadently painted pottery ranging from relic shards from Chinese Empires to religious effigies excavated from Mayan ruins. British Delftware had an impressive display as did Austria with its Hausmaler porcelain, yet the Delft's blue that originated in Holland was curiously missing from the whole collection.

More to come: AGO and the Maharaja exhibit.

The Lost Art of the Pop-In

DISCLAIMER: This is not an excuse to become a stalker.

A friend of mine popped by after closure with her ex when I was already laying in bed. As I I adore this friend and was only guiltily watching Californication online anyway, this pop-in was more than welcome. The pop-in is an unannounced visit perfect for impromptu tea parties or catalyzing thrift store shopping. I lament the fact that the art of yesterday's pop-in is a dying social nicety. I find that if I want to see someone the fact that the mood is striking is no longer the impetus for a visit. Oftentimes one has to call, text, or email, set a date, and meet between the feign of a busy work schedule and the banality of the day-to-day. This is not to say that the planned rendez-vous isn't fulfilling yet it does lack the joie de vivre that is the pop-in. In a pop-in filled world you would always break bread with a spontaneous joiner or find a "just stopped by to say hi" note pinned to your door. It kind of reminds me of an anecdote from the time my parents visited my brother in Zambia. The code of conduct in Zambia is that if someone sees you eating, you have to offer the bystander to join you in your meal. This isn't an optional gesture, no it is an unwritten rule in Zambian social etiquette. Consequently, no one eats outside. As a result of this cultural aspect my parents found themselves offering many a dutch cheese sandwich to any local passer-by who scouted their outdoor picnic. Similarly, there were numerous times when they were offered corn on the cob and other street feast items on their jaunts about town. Could you imagine having to offer whatever it is you're eating to someone who crosses your path? This is a social etiquette lost on north Americans who would offended at the thought of sharing a bag of corn nuts with the teen on the ETS bus. But back to the pop-in. Much of our socializing takes places in the cyber realm where you can never be caught off guard and where your profile picture always shows your most becoming side. I think a revival of the art of the pop-in would release a sense of authenticity among those who you care about and might unmask the veneer of the profile picture into something more believable.