Attendance at Toronto’s Everything to Do With Sex Show was up from last year, exceeding 50,000 participants. And all of this during a recession!…SEX and MOVIES during difficult times.
It’s an event that demands an overwhelming amount of your time and attention considering you need to sift through so much junk to get to the gems. The show will now move on to Montreal and then Halifax. I covered this event for @ Humber, an hour long current affairs show on Radio Humber out of Humber College…………..click PLAY please.
I have returned with an audio piece. Wade Davis’s Massey lecture will be broadcast tonight at 9pm (Monday Nov. 2nd 2009) on CBC radio one’s Ideas. I was able to interview him before his final Massey Lecture presentation in Toronto. He was able to give me a half-hour long interview.This is my little piece, produced today and aired on At Humber. I may end up producing a feature profile piece with this interview if I find the time.
Artwork from Nuit Blanche exhibition
“In SANITY”, The Story Behind The Wall
Presented by Workman Arts Project Ontario
This sculpture was done by Annalise and is based on the profile of Cynthia H. a patient who was held in the Toronto Asylum for the Insane from 1904 – 1909
All works were based on patient bios from Geoffrey Reaume’s book Remembrance of Patients Past.
Cynthia H.’s fallopian tubes, uterus and one ovary were removed while at the hospital. At the time doctors believed that a woman could be cured of ‘insanity’ by removing her reproductive organs.
All sculptural works at the exhibition reminded me of each individuals struggle but also identified them very specifically as personalities. Each work appeared as an homage to the person being depicted.
Have you ever imagined how many times you could wrap yourself around a gigantic tree, perhaps a baobab tree? No other tree seems to be as prominently installed in the mythical imagination of the western mind. What is bigger? What can compare?
Your entire back pressed against its side. Warmth emanates through your body breathing life into trails of traveling blood. Flip yourself like a coin. Tummy and chest hug smooth bark. Repeat, over and over again. How many times would it take?
For me this mythology was real. I remember what baobab bark felt like and yet this tree still feels like the stuff of fairytales. Part of the reason for this is because it is implanted into my childhood. From my current North American perspective much of that childhood seems like a mythology. There were giant trees, unending desert, unusual grasses and swimming in Okavango tributaries. Yes there was also a small town, where we lived with all amenities available but the memories that pop out are the ones from camping expeditions.
I am leaning against a baobab, my foot resting on its sprawling root. Above me branches reach out in every direction. A tire swing hangs from a lower branch, gently swaying. To my left sits our little blue buckie (truck). For miles ahead of me the bleached Makgadikgadi Pans stretch out; buckles and cracks texture its surface.
After scouring the ground I have returned to rest under this large embracive tree. In my hand, fingers press against little red stones called garnets. In front of me friends are still collecting these small red treasures. That moment ends there. Memory trails off and enters other days filled of other happenings that I almost can’t believe were my own. Memories are very much like dreams, a conglomerate of truth and what you have convinced yourself to be real.