and because it makes me smile

Someone lifted my words in the best way possible; with full attribution!

It's nice to have something you tried to say good appreciated.

I'm worried that good's intentionality isn't obvious enough.

Now it is.

The Bob and Becky Cabaret

I've been going to a lot of shows of late.

Most of them comedy and most of them improv. Also, most of them Catch 23.

That's been a treat of a show for me (so much good improv) and I've even been working the door from time to time. Double fun, because I feel more a part of everything that's going on when I'm asked to help. And I get into shows for free!

Giggles.

But last Saturday I went to the Bob and Becky Cabaret.

Fun! (I don't know how to write a show review so what follows is just things that I thought about while watching or am thinking about now while I rewatch the show in my head.)

Bob Wiseman is a musician and film maker but has his fingers in all sorts of pies. Delicious and creative pies.

Becky Johnson has a poorly written Wikipedia entry, so I'll link to Sweetie Pie Press which gives you an idea of some of her crafting passions, and maybe if you look hard enough her many other things will become apparent. She's an improviser of no small skill for instance.

Bob and Becky combined to bring together their respective worlds of music and comedy, and introduce some new and fantastic things to one another and the audience that was smart enough to show up.

It was the first time I'd been to The Theatre Centre and it was awesome. You enter through a cafe and come into the space on a darkened balcony with the well-lit stage and seating below you. The result is an instant feeling that you're going to see something mysterious and significant. I'm not clear on why this was the first notion to enter my brain, but I think it's all to do with light and shadow. Standing high above in shadow grants the audience member a sense of power and agency through anonymity. They could remain in the darkness, watching the performance and never need to reveal their identity to those on stage.

The prospective inductee will be tested, put through the rites of our sacred and distinguished order, watched - and judged - from above until such a time as the elders deem their efforts satisfactory or beyond hope for success.

You know, that sort of thing.

I made a comment to Kayla (nickname to emerge in time) about the vibe and she responded jokingly with something along the lines of, "I know, I'm not sure about being here anymore." At first I thought it weird that another person had the same instant sensation of the space, but then I noticed there were two naked dudes, standing motionless on the stage below. She might have been referring to that.

Whatever was going on, the feeling only lasted a moment before we were descending the creaking, wooden, spiral stairs to the seating. And now that I'm thinking about it, we were underground. Just in a big, finished pit with wooden causeways surrounding us. Cool.

I need to remember all this for when I'm creating a religion. There was so much vibing through the room that I feel some aspects of it could easily be played with and made into part of a temple or some such thing. I should mention the religious plans are for a novel (the main deity is a wild boar!) and I am not recruiting followers.

(Although as always feel free to send me money and gifts at your leisure.)

The naked fellows were the first act, John Oswald and Sean Ling. The piece was all about tension and anticipation and also an aesthetic appreciation of the human form. The whole thing took place vary slowly, except for one brief 'fall', and there was really nothing else for it but to watch the muscles at work, doing what they're meant to do. Simple, interesting and not destined to become a feature length film.

Also, it reminded me that nudity has it's place in art and the world at large. So, to all the people who have expressed concern about my past exploits, maybe I just needed a better venue. Well, I definitely needed a better venue. One with fewer than 8000 seats ideally. And I'm not saying the pants are coming off any time soon, it's very likely that they never will, just that sometimes pants come off.

Facts of life people!

Bob and Becky did little performances, along with their hosting duties, which focused on combining comedy and music. There was one live duet with Becky sleeping and playing the accordion while Bob played guitar and sang, but my favourite was the video duet. Bob exercised some of his filmmaker chops, playing live with a bunch of edited Beckys on screen who handled percussion etc. The multi-media nature of Bob's performances always pleases me (well, the two times I've seen him perform I've been impressed).

Hmm, I don't know how to segue here. How about you go to the next room and when you come back I'll be talking about another one of the acts.

John Porter makes 8mm films and performs along with them. I don't think I can evoke the hilarity of a man in a cowboy costume with cap guns having a shoot-out with a lady on screen, you just need to know it was great. As were his other bits of wonder. Sure, many people today can make a youtube video and post it online, but the theatricality that comes from watching a short film live with other people while it interacts with a performer on stage...it's something else.

Helen Donnelly was there to do some of her amazing clowning, on this evening appearing as Foo. And oh man!

I've been developing an interest in clowning lately, both because of the physical nature of the performance and what I've learned about how one develops a clown character.

Physical performance intrigues me. I don't know if I'm better at physical or verbal performance (how distinct can they be?), but I know I'm more likely to commit to physical performance. I haven't done any purely physical performance so the assertion is largely based on how I dance; i.e. with a certain vigor. I don't second-guess myself when I'm dancing and accept every move I make, even the stumbles. And if I figure I'm being watched that's likely to make me put even more effort into it.

That sort of freedom and comfort is what I hope to eventually achieve with improv as a whole, but in the meantime, clowning seems to provide a chance to explore the physical side of things. It might help me with nuance so my physicality is about more than just gigantic, ridiculous moves, impressive simply because few others are willing to try them.

Oh, and it'd probably be good to learn how to interact with someone physically too. While I can dance there's not always the highest degree of control. Put another person near me and there's a chance they'll get cracked in the skull.

The other main interest I have in clowning (besides the nose) is the character development. To my understanding one's clown character is meant to be an extension of the performer. As a performer you do your best to find a core essence or trait and then you emphasize and expand it to absurd proportions.

A lot of my performance work in the past year has been about trying to find out more about me and get better at things that I feel deficient in. I'm still not totally clear who I am (whatever that means), and while I'm not saying clowning will be an epiphany for me, it should be loads of self-exploratory fun.

Foo's performance was great by the way. It was the story of a clown and her sausage and it did a wonderful job of revealing what clowning can be when done well. Given an absurd premise, a skilled clown goes about telling a story that entertains, but also revels in honest emotions.

What is LIFE if not a bucket of ridiculousness that's been left to fester on a porch for too long on the hottest day in the summer? I ask you! Clowns take that crazy shit we all deal with, dial it up to a billion six on the nutso meter, then deal with it using the same gamut of emotions us regular people have available.

CLOWNS ARE A WINDOW TO THE SOUL OF HUMANITY.

I've been trying to explain this with more clarity and less schmaltz for half an hour. Basically, we all deal with the ludicrous in our daily lives and all we can do is keep moving forward, forming relationships, being with one another, living, loving and all that jazz.

Good work clown.

Beautiful stuff.

Phew. I'll close by saying everyone in the show was great. It's always cool to see people creating and giving their all.

...and I just remembered two more things I need to mention.

PDF Format was great and even if his music was crap (it wasn't) the fact he's written two complete rock operas is awesome.

And I would be remiss not to mention Kathleen Phillips. She did a character piece, a dead singer from the 70s, who revealed the secret of life to one and all. Heaven, it turns out, is a waiting room where you sit until you're called to meet God (I've forgotten his name, Doug or Dan or something). God's job is to send you down a chute in a potato sack, and after riding that chute for days, weeks or however long it takes you'll arrive backstage at a show; one that you'll be performing at.

You go out, you do your ten minutes and that's the end of it.

It turns out life is about making sure you have 10 minutes of solid, ready to perform material so when you die you'll be ready for the final show. Go practice everybody.

I do no justice to the brilliance on stage that evening. Support your local arts scene!

bed

Having a blog is great because there is always something to say.

Here's some of Toon's fine work. Sheesh, it sure was great when spring was here.

Oh well. Soon enough it will return.

Maybe those glasses, with that mustache, not such a good idea?

Big news for me today is of course the purchase of a bed!!!

I took a photo but it looks like nothing special and I don't feel inclined towards a proper photo shoot, so instead I will describe the bed.

First it isn't actually a bed. Just a box spring and mattress. This constitutes 'bed' in my mind because I have spent so much of my life on a single mattress on the floor. Also, my new sleeping height will be higher than what it was with my previous, little bed. Two good reasons for declaring bed-dom.

Both box spring and mattress are a pleasing shade of blue. The bed's size is "double" or "full". Basically a queen that is less 6 inches for both length and width. I bought it from the Thrift Store (NEW!) for $250 plus taxes. What a deal!

I know this because I went to both Sleep Country and The Brick to determine their wares and consider pricing. The best I found was $580 ish plus taxes. Not really worth it, especially when I don't understand all the high end technology I'd be paying for. Mattresses with reinforced edges, silver oxide (???) to stop dust mites and body smells, and a variety of coils and squishy bits for oh so much comfort.

Do you know there's a mattress called The Concrete that was introduced to the Canadian market around 1997 when all sorts of Hong Kongers were coming here; a group that carries a demographic preference for a really solid sleep platform.

After being offered a rolling fashion rack to transport my purchases home, and deciding against it, I was given Kimo's number. Kimo delivered me and the bed home.

Kimo's normal gig is delivering vegetables and fruit, hence his large truck (still with a few veggies when my bed went in).

Kimo often delivers to restaurants. Sometimes they need tomatoes, sometimes they need potatoes. Kimo will be there.

Kimo usually finishes his food industry work around 2.

Kimo sometimes moves couches from the Thrift Store, sometimes beds. Whatever.

Kimo bought the same bed a year ago and he is very pleased with it.

Kimo feels fuel prices are too high and is happy to have a diesel truck (1999 model, bought used).

Kimo has some friends who worked on this building:

View Larger Map

It's a new building. I assume he was telling me this because of its Victorian architectural features.

Kimo did not reveal how he became the default Thrift Store delivery man.

I enjoyed my brief encounter with Kimo and hope he continues to enjoy what seems to be a tremendous existence.

Tomorrow I plan to buy proper sheets. Also an under sheet.

To dispose of my last bed I set it out on the street. Toronto's garbage pick-up is great. You just leave your over-sized trash on the street and they pick it up! Probably easier for the city to do that than fight random dumping.

I left the bed standing tall, thinking it would be more visible to prospective walk-bys. The wind blew it over, however, and Annie found it leaning against a car when she went snack shopping. Leaning right into the dents it had made.

After much soul searching and rounds of advice that all pointed toward saying nothing, I did just that.

Sorry friend. Cost of owning a car I suppose.

I guess, now that I'm writing I may as well mention other things going on in my life...I did some shifts at BCPV over March Break. In costume! Long days but fun. Maybe I should write a blog post on the fun I had. More work coming up.

I've also been going to lots of amazing comedy and theatre shows. Maybe I should write a blog post on one of those as well.

Holy jumpin', once the writing starts, look out!

patience

A quick heads up before we begin, there's a whole lot of self-indulgent self-analysis in here. A lot of words too. No pictures. You have been warned.

-----

Patience is a virtue, I want to be virtuous, therefore I need to be more patient? Flawed logic and mathematics!

I'm experimenting with patience of late, and it's tough, but I figure in the long run it should be beneficial.

The way I figure, developing better patience will help in a bunch of ways, but mainly it should help me deal with my ongoing dilemma of how to exist in now time.

When making a choice the past sometimes has too much say, while possible futures emerge in a cavalcade of thunderous distraction, too often leaving me lost and with no decision at all. Patience, hopefully, allows me to make decisions on a shorter term and utilitarian basis, or even just let me sit in the now and enjoy more moments as they happen.

The future will arrive regardless, and I need to stop running at it and letting it over-influence decisions. Especially since most of the possible futures I come up with aren't set in jello, let alone stone!

Zing.

Let's illustrate with examples shall we?

With improv I've recently chosen to sign up for a class that might not advance my theatrical aspirations **cough** as directly as another. As per usual these aspirations are vague; get into the Macro Neato cast in the short term and just get better at improv in the long term. Realizing that working toward these things can't actually be rushed took a lot of pressure off my class choice, and let me take the one I wanted for other reasons.

Now I get more time to play with friends on Sundays; salt water pool swims, saunas, all the stuff that's important in my life right now.

It also helped to realize that my internal debate was prefaced by the false notion that I KNEW which class would be better. I didn't and don't. Alongside patience, constantly reminding myself how little I know about all aspects of life seems like a good idea; just because I think it, doesn't make it true.

On a slight side note, I've also become more realistic with where I might go with improv. I remain positive about it but also know that I need to treat improv as a fun thing, not a "gotta be the best at this now" thing. Too often I've watched amazing improvisers and wonder how to get that good fast (the whole distracted by the future problem), until recently when I started getting my head around the reality that these people are not only talented, but have been working hard for WAY more than my 8 months. Obvious, I know, but ol' lizard cerebellum has never been one to care about reality.

As straightforward as it is, it's about patience and hard work, and whatever skillZ I have will make themselves apparent in time.

Patience is also great when it comes to my reading habits. For the past few months I've had a heap of books beside my bed on a variety of topics that, while interesting, were starting to stress me out. There were just too many pages!

Despite previous efforts I now understand I likely won't ever know all of all. I'm just not that clever and my eyes just aren't that big. So, the new patient plan is stop going library crazy, read when I have time and interest and not force myself into something that I think I should know.

Why was I reading a blog about Yemeni focused foreign policy for months? Why did I think an intense week's worth of reading and writing poetry would move me forward in a significant way if I was going to burn myself out and revert to a null-state immediately after?

I don't know.

And finally, patience might come in handy mit die Frauen.

I realized recently I haven't had a proper crush in a while. I'm wary of crushes and can't bring myself to trust them. Let me see if I can explain why and then make a guess as to how patience helps with these most pressing dilemmas.

At times, crushes, healthy or not, arrive and leave like farts in the wind, but other times they maintain and embed in my skull. Even when I can rationally recognize their hopelessness, certain crushes become self-perpetuating and drive me to actions and decisions that don't make sense and I have no desire to participate in. These eventually end when I'm inspired to do something so dumb that afterwards I feel like a being made of nothing but awkward ridiculous, and as a result I'm finally able to move on because of the sheer self-embarrassment of it all.

They start for all sorts of reasons. Physical attraction, an amazing personality, what someone is doing with their life, or my favourite, those that stem from my amazingly susceptible to suggestion self:

You say she likes me? I've always hated her soul, but maybe...

On top of this, if the person is already a friend I get to hack my way through all the above while considering the relative benefits, or not, of changing or risking pre-established relationships. And ALL OF THIS doesn't even consider what the crushee might feel about the whole thing, how they might react and so on.

Basically I get stressed because I'm never sure if a crush is a legit feeling or an infatuation that will be supplanted at any moment; am I interested for the right reasons, or am I going into this lying to her and myself from the start?

This is not an exhaustive list of what I take into account, and it varies from case to case, but you get the idea. After all, I'm sure you all have similar fun-time mental parties too.

I figure though, once again, patience can be a great help in all of this.

Wait it out a bit and shallow infatuations can reveal themselves. Or maybe the crushee ends up with someone else. THAT'S ALWAYS SO MUCH FUN.

I'm not saying I should pine from the bushes until the moment is lost. Instead it's about accepting that not all needs to be clarified immediately. In the past the urge to clarify something, discuss it with friends, look for advice, and act (always act) hasn't helped. It's like once the possible future has been imagined I want to make it real or destroy it as fast as possible.

If it works out, great, but if not then at least I have narrowed an infinity of possible by one.

And even if patience solves nothing, or only reveals the futility of a notion, at least it allows me to live in a moment for a time. Crushes are great because they hold so much promise. When you're sitting in their midst you get to revel in the magic and take time to imagine what might be. By forcing a resolution you miss the chance to soak.

If nothing is going to come of a crush I'll find that out eventually, and in the meantime I get to discover what's great about a person, laugh at their jokes, be amazed by their passions, and maybe, JUST maybe, share an amazing kiss that was months in the making.

Sigh.

Heh, and again, when you don't know what you want it's tough to ask someone to be interested. Unless they're into ephemeral boyfriends.

Frantically trying to find the way to an unknown goal doesn't help.

Breathing helps.

Observing helps.

Learning helps.

Realizing that no matter what opportunities were missed in the past and what the future might smack you in the jaw with there will be another day to sort it all out helps.

Unless the earth explodes.

map cuts!

Holy smokes! So many people are into maps. It's great!

Daydream sent me this link from boingboing.

This Karen O'Leary lady has done so many of these things I don't know where to begin.

Here's a Vancouver piece from her Etsy page (Etsy of course being an online fashion/art/handmade stuff marketplace that comes highly recommended by Ms Fascinator, amongst others).

On this one it looks like she has used an actual map and simply cut out all the bits that aren't roads, really showing how it's the roads that tie the city together. Cut the other way and remove the roads and all you have is a bunch of squares floating to the ground.

But if it's the roads that are holding the city together shouldn't we be making more efforts to ensure roads are given over to people, not cars? Of course we should. It seems dumb to exclude the actors that bring life to the city from the physical space wherein the city's component parts are secured to one another. I'm not saying ban cars, just think about it for a moment and you'll catch my drift.

According to her description this map of Paris is made with heavier stock, watercolour paper. I assume she traced everything on then went about cutting it in the same way.

And again, something similar with New York. This is one from a set covering the whole city and is apparently done on lighter paper.

There are a whole whack more of these on her Flickr.

NYC again.

Keen, really just keen.

She also does some in pen and paper.

Great. And then she can put them onto cards, magnets, etc.

I'm super glad this was sent to me. These pieces are great and show me some possibilities. I've been chopping up a few things lately (I need a better knife and chopping surface) but the idea to remove most things and leave only roads in situ never crossed my mind.

I skipped right past that step and have been thinking about manipulating roads. Cutting them from their surrounds but instead of leaving them, changing their configuration, hopefully so that the roads themselves are still recognizable while their form has gone haywire. I suppose that might mean they will become unrecognizable, but I guess that can be part of the fun too. Make an interesting and aesthetically pleasing image, using a map as material, and only later upon closer inspection will people realize that they're looking at something familiar.

Heh. I should DO that, then I won't need to wonder such things. I wonder if that idea would work better with a a provincial road map or a city street? Oh! Or if I used one of those map books for a city that are done with a large scale. Go from page to page, following a road, then mounting it somehow. Anyway...thoughts from my brain.

I'm reading a few of the comments people are posting below the boingboing article, asking whether the pieces are diminished if they were laser instead of hand cut. I don't have an answer to that, but I'll admit there were moments when I was drawing this map

that I was wondering if it wouldn't be better to just learn AutoCAD instead. Probably not. It's about the process after all and it's not like I'm interested in efficiency! Although now that I have my map in digital form I'll likely manipulate it eventually.

I suppose if I keep going with evenly measured maps then a computer construction might make more sense, but it's not like I could make this with a computer.

Why would I want to? As this marker on construction paper monstrosity and Ms O'Leary's efforts at hatching a city show, there is so much fun to be had with variety in making and manipulating maps. So, computers? Whatever!

That's enough from me, but in closing I'll mention that I recently made a connection between why I like maps and how I interact with the world more generally, but I'm not telling you yet. Hint: it's about the big picture!

Maps I have dug out

Clean wall in the living room needed some decorating and this is the result.

After much searching I settled on this map of Morocco.

Look at those big bold colours.

I also cut this little dootle bopper out of a larger tourist pamphlet.

It's in a frame but isn't hung yet. We'll figure something out, although it looks lovely just like this.

I also found a really great early 1970s street map of Chicago, but it is too big and a bit flimsy for a wall hanging without modification.

That's the tough thing about some of these maps. I have them in a box and they should be seen, or else what's the point? But is it worth displaying them if they might be damaged in the process? And some of them are really big and not suitable for normal sized walls.

I liked the Post Houses series above because I cut it out of a pamphlet that would have been too big to show otherwise. I'm going to continue doing this, cutting interesting portions from boring maps and displaying them either alone or perhaps start working on map collage projects.

Experiments!

Man am I lazy when it comes to blogging. I have a post I've been working on about patience, but it's taking me forever to finish. So, I guess...keep waiting for it?

Heh.

In regular life I was fitted today for the costume I'll be wearing over March Break at BCPV. Bring on the wee ones!

Daydream brought me too much meat from chef school and now I'm tired. Stupid late afternoon meat naps. THE WORST!

First improv show

So that went pretty great. Nothing more to add.

Norway?

Apparently.

Hi Norway!

Here is your flag.

I have never been to you but I hear good things. Also that you are expensive. It's your oil wealth that does it.

Good work in the Olympics Norway.

Woah! Lillehammer hosted the Olympics and it's smaller than Owen Sound. That's nuts.

Here's a project for you Norway.

(Mum, don't look at the proposed project. You won't be impressed with your son)

Talk to Sweden and Finland and make a hilarious country that looks like a cock n' balls. Or just talk to Finland and stick with the skinny shaft.

Talk to you later Norway.

winter is over

I know there's a storm rolling in. And I know the sky is still grey. And I know February isn't over and neither are the Winter Olympics, but I just shaved off my beard, so winter is officially over.

Why change this handsome bastard? Boredom mostly.

But look at the results! You even get to choose your photo progression favourite. Two stages or three!!!

My only concern is Enzo started trimming my mustache. I think he was excited because the Juventus game was on. I think I preferred it with just a hint more bushiness. As D-Hammer said it looks like a cop-stache now. Oh well, that's what my genetic make-up is for. Grow hair grow!

And if you want to see what I look like in real life, without a bunch of poor edits breaking up my face, I don't have any ideas.

I don't do much these days

Not particularly inspired by anything. Except improv, but there's sadly not enough of that in a week.

Olympics are on.

Meh and Angry Meh would be my main emotional descriptors of late.

Got out of the house today, saw some kids throwing snowballs and that was pretty great. Two kids were on top of the slide and had a toboggan, or maybe just apiece of plastic, as defence. All the other kids were throwing snowballs at them. Everyone seemed pleased.

Then I found a chocolate museum. Then I bought groceries. Then I found a Winnipeg atlas at the Salvation Army store that is a consistent source for random maps and atlases.

Oh, and I also got a membership at the Trinity Community Centre. $40 for 3 months, what have I been waiting for? Holy smokes. And they have a pool!

I did this thing.

Inspiration from Toulouse, Sauveterre-du-Rouergue, Istanbul, some book with pictures of an Italian town (upstairs, too lazy to look) and other stuff.

Sorry about the glare. You're smart. You'll figure it out.

This is not an unvitation

Ever wondered what I'd look like doing stuff while you sat in a chair close by? Do you sometimes think you could do with listening to me talk about things that may or may not make sense?

I didn't think so.

BUT, if you want something to do on Friday at 8:30, you should go to That Friday Show! at the Bad Dog Theatre. It's pretty good, pay what you can as you exit, and best of all you can watch me perform in my first real improv show...EVER.

I might be good, I might be awful. You get to find out!

Please come! However - the unvitation part - don't feel obliged, by any means. I'll let you know when I have a show that I would be personally hurt were you not to attend. This is not that show.

Just bear in mind, if you want to be able to say you've seen every improv show I've ever done then you have to start this Friday.

Olympics

I used to be big into these things. Really big. I remember 1988, going with my mum to her hair appointment when I was home from school one day. While she was permed I coloured Calgary Olympic bears skating, sledding and skiing.

Mrs. Farrow and Mrs. Cole were intent on discussing Ben Johnson's Seoul in grade 2. I dutifully sat on the carpet.

Barcelona was Tewksbury, and Albertville was hockey disappointment. Or was that Lillehammer? They blur. Although I do remember, at some point, being pleased that an Olympics would begin arriving biennially.

During the Atlanta games in 1996 I hauled my family's black and white television into my room and set it on a stool so I could watch it from my bed. And I did. I would be awake for 9 and watch until 5 when CBC briefly paused sport so they could go to news and supper. Their supper break allowed me to hop on my bike and pedal furiously up Inglis Falls hill and out into the countryside. Sometimes when cars swooshed past I imagined them imagining me. Inspired by the Olympics they would think. Someday we'll see HIM on TV.

That was nice of them. But that wasn't my dream, I just wanted to feel less gross before going home for supper and more Olympics until I went to sleep at the end of the day's coverage at 2.

I was the winner for those games.

Somewhere along the lines I lost interest. When Nagano was happening I was in the midst of army training. I remember sitting up late in the Barrie Armouries to watch hockey before thinking better of it and crashing out on a cot. 4 hours of sleep is more than 2 hours of sleep after all.

Sydney was first year university. I Saw Simon Whitfield win gold from a Montreal hotel room. Later in the games I tried to stay up for a basketball game that was on in a residence common room. The girl I had a crush on was watching too, something I remember more than the game.

I even got to kiss her...

5 years later.

Salt Lake City was me in an empty house over reading week.

Athens, heh, that was me slipping into my girlfriend's house every afternoon (and morning?) while under-employed by the university's housing department.

Beijing was Beijing and honestly feels like 30 seconds ago. I must be getting old.

Now Vancouver. I always felt the Vancouver selection was made easier because of Toronto's repeated snubs, or maybe awareness of Olympic politicking has just jaded me. Not that Vancouver didn't deserve the games, and I'm sure they're ready to go, it just always felt rushed to me, a bit manic. And then with the economic collapse and all the snow melting...

Well, it's too bad they scheduled this right in the middle of an El Nino. Now we get the environmentally 'green' Olympics where we collect rainwater and heat buildings with sewage, but because the environment is green and not white we are bringing in snow via helicopter. It all feels funny.

I wrote a lot more about the Olympics, Canada and what the opening ceremonies and commercials on the television mean for both but I've left it all out. It was a bit too confusing and lacked anything but my brain as proof.

For the time being I'll just hope for the best; that the snow arrives, events run smoothly and Canada does well. I'm even pleased that they're mentioning periodic protests on the Olympic coverage, something that I wouldn't have been surprised if they had ignored entirely.

And if our big finale for lighting the Olympic flame is Wayne Gretzky riding in the back of a pick-up truck, at least we haven't lost our national sense of humour.

The King Mother

They call her the Queen Mother,

but she's really the mother of the current king, Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck,

and first wife of the former king, Jigme Singye Wangchuck.

Two men who know how to wear a gho.

(Thanks for the pics friends!)

So really that makes her a Queen and mother, or Bhutan's King's Mother. The King Mother is a great title. Not in terms of who your son is though, I just mean, if you walked down the street and people were shouting, "Hey King Mother! What's going on?" that would be a pretty great thing to happen.

Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuck is quite the lady. As should be expected from a lady who is the mother of one Dragon King (Druk Gyalpo) and the first wife of another. First wife because she and three other sisters are all married to the king as queens.

Also, she's a big Elvis fan.

Good ol' Bhutan. Did you know "India is 'intensifying military penetration' in Nepal and Bhutan...[because] the Himalayan Kingdoms have become theatres of conflict between military strategists from India and China?"

Well, believe it!

Also, India is encouraging Bhutan and Russia to get together on military matters. Makes sense when you think about it. Russia and India share a lot of concerns over a strong China, so they should team up. Moscow can so easily be distracted by Europe so it's good to have an ally out east keeping an eye on things.

And Bhutan? Well, like always they're going to play it smart and milk all sides like a a bunch of over-filled yak udders!

----

For those interested in who your fellow readers are, we continue to diversify and can now count Japan, France and Brazil amongst readers. I tell you, from Ajax to Islamabad and from Port Elgin to Belo Horizonte, with some Montbeliard and Hodogaya thrown in for good measure, we're doing just fine.

And while I still love the British Indian Ocean Territory, Nunavut's my new passion. It's a Canada thing I guess.

Or perhaps a narwhal thing.

Skip-Skip-Skip to my letterpress and poetry

So remember back when I made this?

Good times, right? Well, check this out.

Imagine all the pebbles and battle beasts I could store in those jobbies. Too many!

The photo is courtesy of The Sweetie Pie Press, and is taken in the workshops of the Trip Print Press. Self described "Practitioners of the black art, letterpress."

Scary!

And fantastic.

Mostly fantastic, because those are not just wondrous wall decorations, no sir. Solely a great place to store toys? NAY! (Although they could do that.) We are of course looking at a lovely set of type trays.

You know how you scroll through your word processor options and can make words look however you want? Well, in real world publishing each of those choices would mean an entirely different tray with a pile of each letter in a particular, coherent style (a font if you will) so you can say whatever it is you want to say and make it look nice too. And of course there are different sizes, so there's that to consider as well.

I may be mis-placing certain terms in the description but I'm hopeful the people that are wiser about these things will lodge their corrections in the comments section.

It's all pretty straightforward, but I'm still excited because this reminds me of the time I spent standing and staring at all the toys in the Black Creek Pioneer Village printing office prior to Christmas, fantasizing. And I'm pleased that such things still exist as viable entities in the real world. There's no reason they shouldn't but like a lot of stuff, until a functioning letterpress is shoved in my face, I don't think about it.

It all makes me want to get married, just for the invitations, or successful enough that I need business cards.

Hell, I'm just really jealous of their drafting table and gigantic rules. Everything is relative of course, and I'm calling them gigantic because I've just spent the last 30 minutes scratching and re-scratching the same, almost 3 mm twinned lines into my next drawing. 3 mm is too small, the margin for error on length and angles too big.

Mercy. I need a drafting table, or a bigger pieces of paper and a regular table would work too.

One day I might put words to paper, rather than just screen, but in the meantime here we are. So why not tack on a poem a poem to the post? It's my blog, so sure!

Here's one that's part of my spit it out while the spitting's good and call it poetry because you're still not totally sure what poetry is or what constitutes good poetry so you may as well show the world what you wrote and maybe the world will tell you it's all right or maybe the world will tell you it's complete crap but it'll be good either way because then you'll know someone read it poetry project.

This particular poem was belched upon the paper in a furious scramble of penmanship, followed by minimal editing. Hopefully said belching is something more than white noise.

-----

Backpack full of groceries

My arms are buzzing

below, above

everything there is to think of

a mash of tortured

black & white

in a world that's the grey clarity

of a nuclear powered mud storm

Malleable is an intention

but to

fight & struggle

against the brain

seems,

feels,

is

wrong & tiring

So much effort except when

walking & walking

and all the problems are there

but fine,

far off at the

destination & nothing

until it's reached.

Maps and architecture and cities and me and an artist named Alice

I'm never sure how I get onto things, but at some point I found myself on this blog, which led me to one Alice Aycock's website. I thought some of her stuff looked really neat, and not just because she is using a grey background on her page and an awesome orangey-yellow colour for her main title. I'm also excited because her work ties in, however tangentially, with some of my interests in art, urban form, architecture, etc. that I've been reading and thinking about of late. (All the pictures I show below are from her website, where you can find more of her work and lots more information.)

Her stuff is farther down but first...

I recently finished this:

That is a drawing of a city. It's pencil on paper and as you can see my efforts at going over the lines were more aggressive in some parts than in others. I think I might do a series of these, maybe start inking them.

In my map I've largely blocked in spaces in terms of grass, concrete or water. There is also just a bit of detail (roof lines and some differentiation for docks) in some of the 'built' blocks. I've added some colour below so you can see what I'm talking about

For the most part, the areas without colour are human structures of one form or another.

This blocking is similar to how a Toronto mapmaker dealt with the problem of describing a city in 2-D from above. Leaving most blocks as blocks and restricting built detail to the ghosting of large institutional footprints. No little lines for house roofs in this one.

But then I came across this image on Aycock's site. What would I do for a building with a hat on?

Low Building With Dirt Roof (For Mary), 1973

I never considered how green roofs or any rooftop park would play in a map until I saw this picture. The traditional top-down view for maps works because things are simplified, often with the notion of single land use. But when there's a significant built park in a city, even if it's high in the air, it needs to be acknowledged. People following a 2-D map and finding a building where they expected green space would be surprised, so there needs to be differentiation of some type, whether it is colour, shape, labeling or something else.

And if I decided to take on a utopian mapping project (I quake even at the thought) I would need to consider the mixed land use that might be taking place on a very fine scale. Methinks I need to start drawing on bigger sheets of paper. More to follow on this theme, no doubt.

"The City of Walls", Isometric, 1978
The Garden of Scripts (Villandry), 1986

Maze, 1972

Walled Trench/Earth Platform/Center Pit, 1975

A Simple Network of Underground Wells and Tunnels, 1975

Project for a Circular Building with Narrow Ledges for Walking, 1976

I like these pieces because they are able to experiment with ideas of structure and architecture, without being concerned with eventual tenants. It's like she gets to play more freely with the signs and signifiers (pardon my weakness in semiotics) of architecture because she's building in farmers' fields. I'm sure she still takes human form into account, but unlike a 'proper' architect she has fewer restrictions. An architect must consider daily human use and if they don't think about how people will live in their built spaces, said spaces stand a good chance of failing.

Looking through the site, I'm definitely a bigger fan of her earlier work. She seems to focus more on architecture and structure than in her later stuff. Starting in the 80s her work begins to take on a more sculptural and decorative air. By decorative I mean there is less concern with function (as vague as it might be) and more with aesthetics. Her sculptures are still fantastic and full of use, it's just that the architecture that remains as a theme in some pieces is often more abstract and less obvious.

I'm always wary of venturing opinions on realms foreign to me (at least in writing, when speaking I venture insupportable opinions on things I know nothing about all the time). I worry I lack the vocabulary to express my notions accurately. Oh well. No offence intended anyone!

Functional and Fantasy Stair and Cyclone Fragment, 1996

And I'm not saying her sculpture is bad. Just that I like the themes she's exploring in her earlier work more.

If someone knows what I'm talking about, feel free to tell me.

Also, everyone should look at the artist's site. There are so many cool things there, even a machine that makes the world! In the meantime, play on this...

The Game of Flyers, 1980

Note at the bottom (that is here): I did an experiment and didn't promote the previous post. The results of the experiment tells me no one has looked at it. If you're interested, it's there and it's about food!