THE THING ABOUT WINNIPEG: 2011

Monday, 5 December 2011

Austra Great But Too Late

Photo: www.austramusic.com

On (Thurs) November 24, 2011 Austra, a Toronto band, played at the West End Cultural Centre. Here’s my review. Pardon the references to the date, I wrote this the day after.

***

Despite two cups of coffee and an energetic performance from the band, when I left Austra’s concert at the West End Cultural Centre Thursday night I was mostly just tired. After two opening acts that lasted an hour a piece, Katie Stelmanis’ blonde head, recognizable from posters in the lobby, finally appeared on stage a few minutes before 10 p.m. Two hours after the concert began.

Opinions about New Age music [a pop derivative of the 60s and 70s punk scene] aside, the hypnotic melodies of Austra and their opening acts Tasseomancy and Young Galaxy had a soothing effect on me that had me ready for bed rather than ready for an encore.

Austra paused in Manitoba for the night as they province-hopped their way across the country promoting their first album, Feel It Break, out May 2011, with opening acts Tasseomancy and Young Galaxy by their side. But don’t confuse vocalists Sari and Romy Lightman (Tasseomancy) and Catherine McCandless (Young Galaxy) with wall flowers. The night was an exercise in vocal range.

When Stelmanis, along with bandmates drummer Maya Postepski and bassist Dorian Wolf, finally took to the stage the sparsely packed room had filled to the point that seeing the band meant getting out of your seat. Being that I’m an amateur connoisseur of indie-music who hadn’t heard of Austra until the week before, I didn’t stand. The standing portion of the crowd, however, did outnumber those sitting.

Overall, the night had great sound that took advantage of the cultural centre’s cavernous ceilings. And the bare stage dressings seemed to be all there was room for as the big voices of Tasseomancy filled the first hour with a haunting set, straight out of a James Cameron flick. If their touring career doesn’t work out, Tasseomancy might consider scoring for Hollywood movies. If there was a slight blip it was the second act, Young Galaxy, whose high notes made the lights seem too bright and had me thinking about everything except what they were singing.

If you’re a real Austra buff you might have been feeling impatient two hours having not a glimpse of the band whose name is on the $12 ticket. I myself spent most of Young Galaxy’s set wondering if the girl from Austra had died her hair brown. When the blonde head I had been looking for took to the stage around ten she was accompanied by the Lightman sisters (Tasseomancy) on backup vocals.

While their opening acts were tough to follow vocally, Austra’s Stelmanis managed to top off the night by flexing her operatic muscles, garnering the biggest applause of the night. Normally, the theatrical arm sweeping prevalent in all three performances would have made my lip curl. The bands saved themselves by hitting the beats as they swayed their way through their respective sets.

The West End Cultural Centre—named 2011 WCMA Live Music Venue of the Year—played great host with optional seating, a chatty atmosphere and blessedly clean bathrooms. But as Austra’s energy rose about three songs into the set, mine was already on the wane. Bottom line: The performance was great, but kept it me up too late.

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Writing schizophrenia

As a CreComm student who is familiar, and had been familiar prior to this point, with multitasking, I’m finding that my brain, so close to Christmas break, is having a difficult time doing so, particularly when it come to writing.

I’ll say right now that the sentence you just read, unless of course you read things from the second paragraph onwards, is offending every Journalistic cell in my body. (I can tell you that there aren’t many of them.)

It’s maybe a little convoluted, I think there’s six commas, and I can feel my J-instructor just cringing. But what you just read is how I hear stuff in my brain. If you shrunk down and walked around inside my head these are the words you’d see, in that order, lined up and ready to give my fingers their marching orders.

Or it used to be.

Today, sitting here (multitasking: eating my lunch, writing a blog, as well as) editing my creative writing fiction I find the sentences forming in my head are straight, to the point, with no words like convoluted. Perfect for Journalism.

The problem is I used to think of myself as a good writer, it was the thing I loved to do. But reading over some of my stuff for Journalism, articles, reviews, etcetera, it’s good writing, but not something I’m particularly proud of. The thing is it doesn’t sound all the way like me, probably because my sentences have very few commas or semi-colons (God, I love a good semi-colon) and adverbs have been ripped right out of my vocabulary.

Trying to write my first, second, and now third revision of my piece of fiction it’s coming out of my brain all wrong. I haven’t had writer’s block this bad since…I wrote a review assignment this weekend. I’ll be honest, the problem is not lack of what to write, it’s insecurity about how to write it and, being honest again, I’m a stubborn person. The way I want to tell you a story is that was I think this story should be told—with interjections, set off by commas, dashes, and lots of brackets. (Did I just say that?)

I’m suffering…yes, suffering… from writing schizophrenia. And it sucks.

The way I see it, only option available to me, given that I’m too something (I can’t think of the word and I hate it when that happens) to compartmentalize my writing style properly, is to get through the next two weeks and then sleep it off for two more. Maybe, just possibly, my convoluted sentences that I love so much and that I’ve worked so hard to take out of my writing will come back to me in their proper place: a separate Word document with the title “Creative…blah blah blah” on it.

ps. One of the reasons I’ve come up with for the panic that now accompanies sitting down with my laptop, besides the need to pare down my writing by 50 or 60 words for J, is word count. If this side note sounds a little awkward, it’s because I’m trying to stretch it out to 500 words to fit some criteria. 528. Wait, 530. That number would be heading in the opposite direction if this were a Journalism assignment.

Friday, 25 November 2011

Profile of a Winnipeg Artist

The artist, wearing characteristically
little jewelry.

Chelsea Miller, ARTIST

Age: 24

Hometown: Winnipeg

Hair colour: Red

Recent trip: Paris, then onto Manchester, England to see her favourite band play live.

Find her at: the Mechantile at RRC’s Exchange District Campus; she’s worked there for 6 years.

What she does: makes incredible pieces of jewellery, paints.

Chelsea Miller, artist and jewelry-maker, will be opening her first store, an online vintage shop, within the year. What's it going to be called? Winnipeg Vintage. What's special about this store? Well, Chelsea’s designs for starters.

Chelsea has been creating necklaces using yarn and metal hoops for two years and has been thinking seriously about opening Winnipeg Vintage for the last six months. Her friend, Ali, 26, got on board two months ago.

Chelsea, who admits she's
obsessed with Native art,
says her designs were influenced
by the look of dreamcatchers.

The biggest problem Chelsea sees with other vintage clothing and accessory stores in Winnipeg: People walk in, browse, and leave empty handed. Chelsea wants her store to house stock that people can actually afford.

The two of them started looking for store space here in the Exchange District but after looking at a place with a $5000 a month rent (utilities not included) and another in a basement off Albert Street, they decided against a physical location. "Financially, this is where we’re at,” says Chelsea.

Instead the two women are focusing on creating an online space with a vibe reminiscent of the silent movies. And, in a completely Winnipeg way—where six degrees of separation is really more like two or three—Winnipeg Vintage will feature a “backscratchers” section that will promote local stores and artists who spread the word about the store.

[Slideshow Property of Winnipeg Vintage]

A great idea from prairie-grown talent.

When asked about aesthetic of Winnipeg Vintage, Chelsea says the website is going to look like the inside of her head. "Girl barf," she calls it. If you're wondering exactly what that means take a look at the tattoo on Chelsea's right arm.

Wearing her work on her sleeve:
Chelsea says she owns every
item in this jewelry box.

Chelsea has six tattoos, a house full of craft supplies, and a U.K. stamp in her passport from last January when she went to see Roxy Music, her favourite band from the 70s, in concert in Manchester.

She bookended the trip in Paris, where a part of her would like to live one day.

Until Winnipeg Vintage opens, check out how their website is progressing or go see Chelsea at the Merchantile.

***

THE THING ABOUT WINNIPEG

STAMP OF APPROVAL

***

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Welcome ... no People

The snow has started to melt and that means yeah, above normal temperatures for Winnipeg. "Welcome to the North End," is back on the roof of Nepon Auto Body on Salter but "People Before Profit," is still missing.

Here's an interesting tidbit. During the elections last month, Belinda Squance of the Communist Party of Manitoba hinted to me during an interview that the sign was originally painted on the roof by an (ahem) unauthorized communist.

People Before Profit is also on the sign outside their offices on Selkirk Avenue.

This Huh? moment brought to you by Winnipeg, a city of really weird things.

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Update on People Before Profit

Page 113, "The Mosaic Village: An Illustrated History of Winnipeg's North End," by Russ Gourluck

I know I said I would keep you posted on the "People Before Profit" sign on the roof of Nepon Auto Body on Salter but in case you missed it ... it snowed in Winnipeg this week.

We'll just have to wait until spring. I hate that I can say that!

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Creative? Writing

In the interest of putting myself out on a limb (something I'm not generally a fan of doing when it comes to my "creative" writing) I have decided to post a piece of writing I did in class sometime during the past couple of months. It is most definitely fiction. I have never been to Chicago.

I call it "No Ketchup." Don't ask me why.

No Ketchup

“Mustard, sir?”

“Yes, mustard and onions. No ketchup.”

Dave picked up the Diet Coke that Sam handed him.

“Here you go sir, mustard, onions, and ketchup.”

“No ketchup. Absolutely no ketchup,” said Dave. It bothered Dave that Sam couldn’t remember how he liked his hotdog. He had been coming to the same cart for 5 years now, ever since Sam had rolled up in his denim baseball cap and undersized ‘Harvard’ sweatshirt. It was little thing that bothered him, really. Like how Sam had never gone to Harvard.

Dave cracked open his Coke can and winced. A tiny sliver of blood rose up to the surface of his thumb. He sucked on it.

Damn, he thought. He had a stack of proposals to sign.

He stood in front of the elevator, watching his reflection in the mirrored surface as he waited for it to hit the ground floor. Someone had scratched a smiley face into the stainless steel.

“Probably some frigging kid-intern,” said Dave’s boss, beside him.

“Yeah,” Dave said. He smiled. It had been an intern. Dave knew this because he given the kid the paperclip after a late night at his desk. He smiled again.

It was a week after the smiley face night that his mother, Margery, had been readmitted to the hospital. The cancer had spread to a new part of her body. The surgeons, unwilling to operate on her, had told Dave and his father that Margery would have to remain in the hospital for observation. At the time, Dave struggled to withhold a snarky comment.

When the elevator doors finally binged open, Dave decided he could use the climb up the stairs. Seventeen floors would give him time to breathe.

“I think I’m dying,” was all that Dave could manage as Katherine from HR asked him how he was somewhere near the sixth floor.

Good lord, Amy was right, thought Dave. I need more exercise.

“Want me to hold the door, Dave?” said Fred from the elevator bank.

“Thanks,” said Dave as he manoeuvred himself into the elevator beside Fred. Dave didn’t think the smile on his friend’s face was necessary.

Dave sat down at his desk, the huge square window lighting him from behind like Jesus. His wife hated when he joked about things like that.

Hmmm, he exhaled through his nose.

He clicked his mouse awake and the tiny hourglass appeared as the computer geared itself up for what was coming. Dave clicked on the email he had been writing. “Mom,” the subject line read. “M-A-R-K,” Dave typed into the address box. The computer supplied the rest. Dave thought that it was worth waiting the extra three seconds for the computer to boot up so long as it continued to read his mind.

Dave ran his tongue across his teeth. He tasted mustard and onions and the metallic tang of the paperclips that he had been playing with all morning.

This stuff brings people together, Dave told himself. He clicked send.

Pending …

Message failed, his computer told him.

“Resend,” Dave answered back.

Pending …

The phone on his desk rang. Line two.

“Hello? Hello, Mr. O’Donald? It’s Dr. Hamilton.” Dave wiped his hand across his mouth, bracing himself. He always braced himself.

“Your mother has suffered a blood clot,” the doctor told Dave. “She’s stable now, but your father is asking to see you.”

As Dave rushed out of the fifteen storey office building, his red tie choking him in the Chicago wind, his computer pinged a response.

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Dear Winnipeg,

'People Before Profit' is a heartwarming sentiment in a month that has seen our city "Occupied" and reach its own previously set record - 34th homicide of the year.

Painted in bold white and gray letters on the roof of the Nepon Auto Body shop, "Welcome to the North End: People Before Profit" has been greeting people as they come over the Slaw Rebchuk Bridge on Salter Street for longer than I've been alive. (see image below)

It's one of those things that I always look at, occasionally think about, and definitely didn't care that much about. That is until someone changed the shingles today.

As of this moment, the hand-painted letters have been stripped.

The only question on my mind is Are they going to put the sign back up?

Signed,
Waiting and Slightly Worried

Page 113, "The Mosaic Village: An Illustrated History of Winnipeg's North End," by Russ Gourluck

Monday, 7 November 2011

Good eats near campus

Pesto Chicken Panini and Citrus Berry (Vegan) Smoothie $15

Ok, so here in the Exchange there’s lot of great places to grab a nice lunch. Some, as a student, I just can’t afford. Kay’s Deli, a block from RRC’s Princess Street campus on William Avenue, is pretty reasonable.

I heard about this place from my parents earlier in the week and was enticed by the small, but gourmet-sounding menu options.

They have paninis (hello, grilled Portabella mushrooms), wraps (small, but yummy), rotating daily soups (a vegan option always available), and salads (the classics and then some).

Not to mention their fresh juices in really odd combinations. Have you ever tried pomegranate/apple/carrot juice? I haven’t, but it’s on my list.

Just a word of caution, a couple of my friends thought the prices were a little steep for portion sizes. I paid just under $15 for a panini and smoothie with tip. I was full when I left.

Overall, good atmosphere and yummy food equals a nice Friday lunch. I suggest you give it a try.

Small and cozy.

They sell the artwork they display on the walls.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Winter Blues

So long fall.

Attention all: I think it’s time to prepare for the inevitable onset of snow.

My feet are getting chilly as my flat-wearing days stretch thin and I’ve been tempted more than once this week to wear my fuzzy red slippers to class.

I’ve resisted ... so far.

But I want to be positive about the upcoming season.

SO TELL ME ...

What’s your favourite thing about Old Man Winter?

Here's my Top 3

1. Wearing my leather mitts.

2. Warming up my nose while I walk. (You breath out fast and walk into it.)

3. Uh ... Christmas!

Thursday, 27 October 2011

Media, Medium, Mediate

If the Medium is the Message, and the medium is Twitter, does that mean the message is “Tweet?”

Marshall McLuhan, the incredibly influential media theorist, said “the medium is the message.” What he was saying was the way media like Twitter constrict our messages to 140 characters (spaces included) shapes both the way we create our messages (condensing our regular speech to fit 140 characters) and the way we come to understand our world in general (how many CreCommers are starting to think in Twitter posts?).

Case in point:

Arjun Basu < www.twitter.com/arjunbasu >

Here’s a writer our Creative Writing instructor, Karen Press, showed us. He writes SHORT stories in 140 characters. When I first saw his Twitter roll I thought no way can this guy make any kind of impact in that small of space. No links. No videos. No pictures (because we all know they’re worth a 1000 words).

It was like he was cutting all the junk, all the superficial niceties out of his story and just leaving the bones. You fill in the blanks.

He calls them “twisters.” He says he’s written thousands.

Reading his feed got me thinking about how though a medium like Twitter can tempt you into monosyllabic ‘What’s happening?’ answers, it can also force you to rise to the challenge of 140 characters. If every letter counted, what would you write?

I think what he’s doing is looking for shock value. In his posts there’s a place-setting opening line. Maybe another. And then he writes something unexpected – often something that is so ordinary that it startles me into a giggle.

(Though it’s not hard to do that.)

Means, not the End

Now I don’t want to give the impression that Arjun Basu is the be all and end all of creative short fiction. Clearly there are some of his stories that I enjoy more than others. There’s other still that I don’t get at all. I just needed an example of how media like Twitter, FaceBook posts, and text messages can be used in unintended ways to great effect.

Feel free to disagree with me on this.

But still on Basu…

Where does he find the time to write all these posts? He’ll write six, seven, eight stories a day. And it takes most of us first year CreComm students hours to cut out 50 words from our writing only to realize we just wrote 49 more.

He must think in Twitter posts. (Wink wink McLuhan.) But how is he at carrying on a conversation?

Challenge

Karen Press, I mentioned her, told us to write a story in under 500 words. It had to have a beginning, middle and end. I think I got mine to around 200 words.

I wrote about my dog.

Tip

If you’re thinking of trying your hand at REALLY, REALLY, REALLY short story writing here’s a tip from Fred Stenson: ask yourself what’s the latest this story can start? And, what’s the earliest this story can end.

Rarely do you want to be with your character when he wakes up in the morning. At least, that’s what Stenson says.

Marshall McLuhan

Fun Fact

Did you know Marshall McLuhan was raised in Winnipeg?

Thursday, 20 October 2011

Anyone for tic tac toe?

The sky at the corner of Main and James.

Thursday. 6 pm.

Monday, 17 October 2011

Made you look!

A couple of years ago Winnipeg shop owners faced an interesting problem. A sign-napper. This person–whomever they were—took it upon themselves to rearrange the letters on street-level message boards.

For a brief time, a beauty salon on Main Street had 10% off sperm instead of 10% off perms, a restaurant on Leila had a special on boiled chicken instead of broiled chicken and, well, you get the picture.

After a while this guy—or gal—went M.I.A. Much to the dismay of those of us enjoying the occasional giggle they provided.

This morning, however, commuters in Charleswood were presented with this interesting thought on a lit up road sign.

Photo taken from Winnipeg Free Press website, Oct. 17, 2011

Link to Winnipeg Free Press article: http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/breakingnews/charleswood-drivers-shocked-by-profane-sign-131966968.html

While Manitoba Public Insurance, who owns and operates the signs, was suitably “shocked” at the electronic F-bomb, the comments I read on the Free Press website are loving it.

It’s funny.

I LOVE IT!!

Keep the new word.

Hacked...hardly.

Despite what any of us may think about the legalities, swearing, etcetera, you have to admit it made people look.

And that, despite itself, is good advertising.

It’s like really short shorts on a middle-aged man. Or really red flowers on a poinsettia plant. Or baby wiener dogs. You’ll look every time.

So, what’s your opinion on the signs? Funny or inappropriate?

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Love the prairies. Love the prairies in the fall.

On my way to Victoria Beach.

The field looks like a conveyor belt, doesn't it?

I wish I could write poetry.

It feels like a moment for poetry.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

High Heels Good For Joints

Sex and the City Fundraiser for The Arthritis Society tonight

Ask me what's better than a Thursday night spent with your girls (and your moms!) watching Sex and the City?

Nothing, baby.

Tonight The Arthritis Society is hosting a Sex and the City fundraiser at the Garrick Theater and I'm so very excited because this time ... I'm old enough to have one of those gorgeous pink martinis!

As I sit school, exhausted from a long week that's not yet over, my left knee aching though I refuse to uncross my leg, I can only think that there is no better place on earth to host this thing.

There are about 200,000 Manitobans are living with arthritis. 2/3 of them are women. And I can think of a couple who aren't about to give up their cute shoes.

Hello, no sleep tonight. It's nice to see you again.

Monday, 3 October 2011

It's a small world after all.

Today I met a friend. Actually, today I met a friend's friend.

Now that friend of my friend is the president of one of the student associations at The University of Winnipeg.

And guess who's his vice-president? That's right - my best friend.

You see the thing about Winnipeg - that I was so acutely reminded of today - is that everybody knows everybody.

I love it.

Wednesday, 28 September 2011

Page One: Inside the New York Times

Want to know what goes on inside The New York Times?

I can’t say I did.

Honestly, I just never gave it much thought. But that changed after watching Andrew Rossi’s latest documentary, Page One: Inside The New York Times, at the Cinematheque on Friday.

Now I just want to run up to the New York Times Building on Park Row and give it a big ‘ol kiss. I’m the nervous flier; it’s the airport tarmac.

I’m guessing that was Rossi’s intention.

A “lovefest” it’s being called. But what’s wrong with that?

This documentary is enough to make some of you divorce your twitter accounts and take up with an old friend – the printed newspaper.

Crazy talk, I know. But hear me out.

In Page One we’re confronted with the stark contrast between the young Brian Stelter, the Times’ resident social media savant and David Carr, a reporter with a raspy voice, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and what appears to be a distaste for web-reliant news sources.

By the end of the documentary, which was shot throughout 2010, Carr is an admitted Twitter convert.

According to Carr, what’s the real value of Twitter? “Listening to a wired, collective voice.”

And the voice of this former drug addict is one I could have listened to for hours more. The film pivots around Carr and a few other members of Times’ reporting and editing staff, but Carr is the real hero for this institution.

Putting his obvious journalistic smarts aside for a moment, David Carr is the one that keeps you watching and thinking the entire 1 ½ hours of the documentary. This man is anything but dry – though at certain points you feel the urge to reach through the screen and hand him a cough candy.

Here’s a rundown of 7 THINGS I LEARNED from Page One: Inside The New York Times.

Thanks in no small part to David Carr.

1) Julian Assange, founder of the controversial WikiLeaks, made a name for himself as a hacker. Shocking, isn’t it?

2) There is a chip implanted in the staff at The New York Times called “New York Times Exceptionalism.” At least, according to David Carr.

3) The “New York Times Effect” depends on analogue paper distribution. The way I understand it, if something is one the cover of the Times one day, it’s on the cover “second tier” papers the next.

4) David Carr can vaporize people. Using only his words.

5) The effect of the recession on the Times is the mood pervading the newspaper business. The New York Times is a general interest paper. “We try to be the best at everything.” So a recession means that skills the paper can afford to lose are lost. “We have to dump bodies overboard.”

6) Putting reporters into war zones requires an infrastructure be in place to support them when they’re gone and when they get back home. This costs money. Does this mean we should give the Times a break about its website Paywall?

7) The New York Times literally has a round table. Twice a day the editors meet and decide on the next day’s headlines. The table’s actually more oval, but you get the point.

I leave you with my favourite quote from Page One:

“Is there anything I should know before I check my messages?” – Media Editor Bruce Headlam to David Carr

Watch the documentary, you’ll get it.

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Applause for Glen Downie at Thin Air Writer's Festival

The applause in question is not just my own. Visiting RRC today was writer Glen Downie with his latest collection of poetry, Local News. He made us laugh. (He made some of us cry.) Here's some of the highlights.

GLEN DOWNIE'S TOP TEN

1. HE STARTED WITH A SHOUT OUT. "IT'S NICE TO BE BACK IN MY HOMETOWN." THAT'S (AHEM) WINNIPEG IF YOU HADN'T GUESSED :)

2. HE GETS IRONY ... AND HE'S SUBTLE WITH IT. "THE APPLIANCE STORE SPECIALIZES IN ALL MAKES AND MODELS."

3. HIS SEGUES FROM READING TO DISCUSSION WITH A HUMBLE, "ANYWAY."

4. HE 'S A DOG PERSON. NO CAT LOVER CAN DELVE INTO THE CANINE MINDSET WITH SUCH FINESSE.

5. HE WRITES IN HIS ATTIC. IT'S HIS FAVOURITE ROOM OF THE HOUSE. WHY DOESN'T EVERYONE HAVE A FAVOURITE ROOM?

6. HE HAD US NEAR TEARS. IN "OLD DOG," DOWNIE TALKS ABOUT HIS LATE FATHER. 'NUF SAID.

7. HE HATES WHEN PEOPLE RING HIS DOORBELL. LIKE I SAID, HE WRITES IN THE ATTIC.

8. HE'S SCARED OF THE SPIDERS IN HIS BASEMENT. I'M SCARED TOO, GLEN. I'M SCARED TOO.

9. HE'S INSIGHTFUL. "WHAT'S LIFE AND WHAT'S ART? THERE IS NO GUARANTEE OF WHAT IS FACTUAL WHERE ARTISTIC LIBERTY IS INVOLVED. SO TRUE. AND FINALLY ...

10. HE'S TWEETABLE. SEE POST BELOW.

If you want more of Downie, and I know you do, check out http://talltreepress.com/.

And don't forget to check out the rest of THIN AIR Winnipeg International Writer's Festival 2011. Catch them on Twitter @thinair2011.