PDF - Herd Magazine

02
FROM ACORN TO TREES:
ROLF KLAUSENER
THIS IS GOOD THINGS
YOUNG JANES:
HANDPICKED COUTURE
ROBERTA BONDAR
HERDMAG IS
Stephanie Vicente - Co-Founder / Editor in Chief / Professional Narcissist
Pat Bolduc - Co-Founder / Photo Editor / Minister of Propaganda
Joey Arseneau - Creative Director / Adventurist
Andrew Gemmell - Editorial Assistant / Punctilious Pilate
CONTACT
Herd Magazine
1116-180 Lees Avenue
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
K1S 5J6
www.herdmag.ca
info @ herdmag.ca
Herd Magazine is published independently on a quarterly basis by Herd Magazine.
All content is Copyright Herd Magazine unless otherwise indicated.
LETTER FROM
THE EDITOR
Photography by Pat Bolduc
I
n many ways, far, far too many ways, I’m a prisoner.
I don’t have the economic status to let my madness
run wild. To go insane is a luxury only the wealthy can
afford to indulge in. So I suppose you could say I sort of
try and confine the lunacy to the page, to the moments
of solitude, to the walls of my skull, to my fingertips,
to my dreams. But that is not to say that I haven’t set
myself free from time to time. Nearly three years ago I
gave into the neurotic extravagance that I had somehow
managed to keep at bay for twelve years. I was met with
peace of mind, a sense of liberty, a feeling of grand
authority over my own fate… and a psychiatric nurse in
the cuckoo ward at the Civic Hospital. A few moments
of freedom led to six weeks of group therapy, cognitive
therapy, occupational therapy, psycho-analysis, several
anti-psychotic drugs, and virtually no social life. There’s
a craft to be mastered in this lesson learned. That craft
is the ability to facilitate the madness, to hone it, to
give in to it, and then, right as it gains enough momentum to carry you away (and once you’ve acquired whatever you were hoping to gain from it), keep it at arm’s
length—but never, ever, turn your back on it.
During the production of Issue 01, myself, Pat, and
Joey, had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of
many interesting, eccentric, creative, and like-minded
folk. All of whom I admire. All of whom seem to have
funnelled the folly and the dullness of daily living into
something productive. Our contributors (our comrades),
have inspired me to keep pushing forward, even when
the flatness feels like the steepest of inclines. What do
I mean by this? Artists, at least the ones I have come
to know well, find themselves restless and bored frequently. They take this boredom, and they do something
about it. They take the monotony, alter it, place it under
a different light, and then find themselves autonomous.
It was Rainer Maria Rilke’s fine words in, Letters to a
Young Poet, that defined it best for me. “If your daily
life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that
you are not a poet enough to call forth its riches; for the
Creator, there is no poverty.”
In my previous letter from the editor, I offered myself
to Ottawa. In this letter, I offer myself to all who have
stroked, touched, moved, and caressed Herd—with their
hearts, hands, talents, whatever. And before you let the
perception of that statement go southward to the dirty
parts of the mind: No, we aren’t going to get naked for
you (unless of course you pay us an obscene amount of
money… or even a modest amount of money… these
economic times are tough, you know). What I’m really
trying to say, without sounding too sentimental and theatrical (though I am a Leo, after all), Issue 02 wouldn’t
have come to be, if it weren’t for my incredible colleagues (most notably Pat, Joey, and Andrew), our fellow
artists, our close friends and family, and most certainly,
all you damn fools who came to celebrate with us on
October 12th, 2012.
Stephanie Vicente
Herd magazine
1
Words by by Dahara Mnemosyne
Photography by Pat Bolduc
G
rowing up in Ottawa, Jeff McKay spent
hours in his grandfather’s guitar workshop
learning basic luthier techniques. I went with
Herd co-founder and photog Pat Bolduc to the
McKay family home in Centerpointe to see how
far his guitar-craft has come. Jeff’s company is
called McKay Guitars and the quality of his work
in both design and execution is at once immediate and obvious.
Jeff shows us two acoustics, two archtops, and
one fine filly of a Stratocaster-style electric. The
spruce and cedar Jeff uses for his guitar tops exhibit deeply coloured veins and sharp contrasts in
shading. The cocobolo on the back and sides is a
hard heartwood, but whatever difficulty it poses in
woodcrafting terms it makes up for in rich tint and
tones in both colour and sound.
A soaring bird is inlaid in mother-of-pearl on the
headstock of a handsome acoustic modeled after
a Martin D-28 Dreadnought. The other acoustic
is parlour-style with an undulating coral-hued ribbon trimming its body and rosetta. The headstock
of one of the archtops displays a glinting rearing
stallion inlaid in bear’s tooth and mother-of-pearl,
and the violin-shaped body of the other archtop
boasts a stain spectrum ranging from mocha to
latte. They are all particularly beautiful. Minute
accents await close inspection, from the Roman
numerals on the position markers to the structure
of the pickguards.
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Jeff has been working on guitars, doing both repairs and
builds, for seven years. He has made seven guitars and
one dulcimer, with four more on his workshop table.
While his grandfather was instrumental in sparking his
interest in luthiery (to this day, Jeff does most of his
work in his grandfather’s basement workshop), it was
during Jeff’s time completing a degree at the Summit
luthier school on Vancouver Island in BC that he per-
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fected his craft. It was also during that time that Jeff
one day stumbled upon a bear’s skull while walking the
western tonewoods. A tooth from this skull made its way
into the above-mentioned inlay of one of his archtops,
to exquisite effect.
Jeff’s clear vocation as a luthier springs from a family
appreciation for fine woodworking. Sitting in his liv-
ing room, I was impressed by the carved details on his
parents’ leather-topped coffee table, which resonated
in the confidence apparent in the lines of Jeff’s guitarcraft. His father’s ornately gilded grandfather clock towering in the corner and occasionally sounding the hour
is a beautiful piece of woodwork, and through its glass
front a gleaming pendulum weight shaped like a classic
lyre is visible. From where I sat, it was a subtle back-
drop element echoed in the pronounced violin-shapes
of the archtops with their glistening nacre. McKay guitars are available for between $2000 and $3000, and
Jeff also does repairs and custom orders, which usually
take from three to four months to complete. Jeff McKay
can be contacted at [email protected].
Herd magazine
5
ROBERTA
BONDAR
Words by Matías Muñoz
Photography by Pat Bolduc
O
ttawa indie noise rockers Roberta Bondar deconstruct mainstream notions of sonic boundaries as
they explore the depths of their talent. The band consists of four members: Lidija Rozitis (guitar/vocals), Alex
Maltby (guitar/vocals), Tyler Goodman (drums), and Gary
Franks (bass/synth), each of whom brings a unique set
of abilities and character to the table.
Each having been involved in the music scene for a
few years, their paths became interwoven over time.
“I met Gary because he used to be in a band called As
the Poets Affirm (with Adam Saikaley) and I was good
friends with the drummer of that band and also really
liked their music. I met Lid (formerly in Silver Birch
Society) at the café at some kind of event on campus.
I remember us drinking at the underground parking lot
together,” explains Tyler, who played in a band called
Fire Heats Water with guitarist/vocalist Alex Maltby before they joined forces with the others to form Roberta
Bondar. They enjoy what they do, and it shows. As Gary,
the resident sound specialist, points out, “If you can’t
listen to the music you are making, how can you expect
anyone else to?”
“There’s no overall intention or ultimate goal,” Alex
says. “We all like to use this as an opportunity to try out
different things and experiment. We all share that mindset of trying new things out and plugging things into
other things to see what happens.”
“We’ve jammed on everything from pop, dance and
folk to metal,” Lidija explains. The fact that they have
shared the stage with such diverse bands as Siskiyou,
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Issue #02 2012
Bad Vibrations, Cursed Arrows, Say Domino, as well as
having been part of the Arboretum Music+Arts Festival,
demonstrates how dynamic their music really is.
That being said, Roberta Bondar’s sound is mesmerizing, powerful, robust and beautiful all at once. It has
thunderous percussive onslaughts positioned next to
moments of serenity. At times, echoes of Sonic Youth
ring through. The band transforms venues like The Daily
Grind into a smoke-filled sound chamber packed with
a motley group of fans, while silhouettes of the band
members pulse with the crowd just a couple feet in
front of them.
Roberta Bondar is part of a wider movement in Ottawa
—a cultural resurgence of artists who are emerging out
of the shadows to make their voices heard. As the music community grows, more cross-pollination of people,
ideas and creativity occurs; Ottawa’s smaller size is conducive to this happening more and more. “I think that
sometimes having a smaller music community can work
to the artist’s advantage because it’s easier to stand out
and come together with other people that share your vision,” Alex points out.
As far as the Ottawa music scene goes, Roberta Bondar
are taking their place in what appears to be a community bursting at the seams with creative output. Lidija,
along with the rest of the band, have no shortage of affection for their city. “I like the idea of contributing to
Ottawa, there is still a feeling that we are all a part of
something bigger. It’s very supportive.”
CRAFT
DRAUGHT
Words and Photography by Katy Watts
P
opular mainstream breweries make a lot of promises. They promise summer fun, action-packed
hockey and national pride—all with a bottle designed
for quick consumption and the coldest of temperatures.
While the mass-produced lagers are cheap and easy
to drink, the marketing usually overshadows the sweet
water-like flavour. Craft beer, on the other hand, doesn’t
have an aluminium bottle or wide mouth opening and
they don’t have the budgets to sponsor sports teams or
have national distribution. They do, however, promise
something the big breweries can’t—full flavoured beer.
Overworked and underpaid,
the brewmaster is both a
chef and a chemist; pitching
yeast, calculating gravities
and tossing in a few herbs
for good measure.
It’s that promise that drives brewmasters like Lon Ladell
of Big Rig Brewery and Kitchen to search for the best
ingredients, abandoning cheap adjuncts like the corn
and rice used to create the popular fizzy-yellow lagers.
Instead, the most creative brewmasters experiment and
harvest new yeast strains or invent recipes and create new styles using fruit, herbs or innovative brewing
techniques. For Ladell, brewing his beers often means
long hours processing specially sourced ingredients and
tediously measuring out spices. The result is a full flavoured beer that’s hard to resist.
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If you aren’t hooked by the flavour, then it might be the
people behind the beer that inspire you to buy and try
more. Overworked and underpaid, the brewmaster is
both a chef and a chemist; pitching yeast, calculating
gravities and tossing in a few herbs for good measure.
When Josh Larocque, brewmaster and co-owner of
Broadhead Brewery, isn’t brewing, he’s at a restaurant
pairing one of their six brews with fine dining, at a festival dolling out samples to the masses, leading tours,
and demonstrating how his team expertly crafts each
batch. It’s that personal touch and hands-on approach
that sets craft beer apart from its machine-laden macrobrew cousins
Don’t think that the big-name brewers haven’t noticed
what the little guys are up to. In the past year, while
beer sales have been flat, craft beer sales have risen by
45% in Ontario and taken a 10% bite out of the overall
market. Breweries like Molson have reacted by pushing
seasonal bottles and experimental one-off kegs through
their smaller brands like Rickard’s and Creemore. It may
not be craft but it’s a step in the right direction—beer
with flavour, brewed using quality ingredients.
At the moment, Ottawa is experiencing a craft beer
boom with over 10 microbreweries or brewpubs vying
for their brews to be poured in your glass. The flagship
bottles of Beau’s All Natural Brewing Co. and Kichesippi Beer Co. are sold at the LCBO, but others are
available exclusively at the brewery in refillable growlers
(1.89 litre glass jugs) or at select pubs and restaurants.
The best way to learn more about craft beer is by wandering in to your local pub, beer store or brewery with
an open mind and trying something new. The recently
opened Beyond the Pale in Hintonburg offers visitors a
view of their small brewing system and a guided tasting
of their unique, American-influenced, brews. Be careful,
though, once you have a sip of craft beer and start discovering the variety of styles available, it may be hard to
go back to the cold certified stuff.
If you want to learn more about Ottawa’s craft beer community
see Katy’s blog at shelteredgirlmeetsworld.com.
Herd magazine
11
ART THRIVES IN
MASSIVE CITIES.
WE ARE SMALL.
FAKE THE STRIFE,
DO GOOD WORK.
12
Joey Arseneau - Fake the Strife
Herd magazine
11
PETROSTATE
A DOCUMENTARY
Words by Matthew Ross William Tirrell
Illustration by Joey Arseneau
I
f you hadn’t noticed, don’t feel too bad; you’re not
the only one. The tablecloth has been ripped out
from beneath the tea set without upsetting a thing, and
meanwhile we were politely arguing the semantics of
tar vs. oil. Andrew Nikiforuk, best selling author of: Tar
Sands: Dirty Oil and the Future of a Continent, summed
it up in 2010 when he said, “A couple of years ago,
while most Canadians were out shoveling the sidewalk
or sipping a coffee at Tim Hortons, the nation quietly
became a petrostate.” A harsh impending reality that
too few Canadians had time to realize.
A basic definition of a petrostate is a geo-political region where the sales of hydrocarbons (fossil fuel) make
up more than a fifth of their fiscal income. Alberta has
been there for sometime, while Canada is on the verge
of such a precipice. The perceived prosperity of the oil
boom acts as a mechanism to reinforce oil-based interest and weaken the diversity and health of the state
overall, a self-fulfilling prophecy elevated from the provincial to the federal.
Kathleen Black is one Ottawa born individual shedding
a new light on Canada’s oil industry. Her latest endeavor
is an ambitious unreleased documentary film titled
PetroState, which has been filmed but whose postproduction is in funding rounds on www.indiegogo.com. With
this film, Kathleen aims to put a human face to the sea
of endless data that is disputed over the toxic emissions, ecological destruction, and social devastation of
the oil sands. PetroState insight into both the people
who depend on the oil sands for a living and those who
recognize the manifold ramifications of making a living
that way.
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Kathleen visited Fort McMurray to shoot preliminary
footage and begin interviews, flying over the site and
seeing the affected landscape from a bird’s eye view.
Then she visited the refinery towns in Sarnia, Ontario
and Detroit, Michigan meeting with the people in those
communities affected most severely. This was the inspiration behind her desire to look at the intricacies surrounding the sands and the people involved. Kathleen
has been using her Ottawa ties and a strong social media presence to bolster support and funding for the film.
Given a successful funding round, the project is set to
be available to film festivals September 2014 and to
release on publicly by the summer of 2015. Dates that
by no stretch of the imagination accidentally coincide
with the next federal election.
I had a chance to sit down with Kathleen Black to talk
Ottawa, politics, and the sands.
Do you feel that living close to parliament in Ottawa has
had an influence on your life?
KB: Living here, being so close to parliament and to
where decisions are being made, I have a sense of
responsibility to change things. When I went to the
Keystone XL rally Parliament Hill, I felt there is a different atmosphere here. It’s a different feeling than
living somewhere else that is more entertainment or art
focused. This is a big political issue and the presence of
the government in Ottawa contributes to that feeling of
responsibility.
The oil sands are a highly contested political issue and
political participation from our generation is at a record
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low. What do you think is the disconnect between the data
available and the participation?
people; making it easy to understand, and even using
humour to explain some of the political aspects.
KB: There is no personal connection to the numbers
and the facts. It doesn’t sink in with people emotionally.
They often don’t see the connection between politics
and their own life and don’t care to look for it. Politics
seem boring and when compared to the US more people
in Canada are looking to see if Obama won than what
How does PetroState focus on the human aspect?
KB: I met a woman in one of the refinery communities and she told me how in almost every household on
her street someone had died from cancer or there was
someone suffering from cancer. Meeting her and seeing the passion she has for her community, struck me
emotionally and really put a face to the issue. I want to
help people understand that the issue is not just science based or about carbon dioxide, it’s a human issue.
People know the oil sands are generating pollution, but
that doesn’t mean anything to a lot of people. To see
someone who is going through this and relate to them is
something that makes it real to people. And I hope that
this will change the way people look at the issue.
The other human aspect of this issue is the people living
in communities around the sands in lower socio-economic
standing, relying on the oil sands for a source of income.
What was your experience with that?
is happening in Canada. The way the US does it makes
politics seem more entertaining; the US election is like
a sporting event.
In the US we see a lot of celebrity endorsements used to
generate more interest and support for political issues.
Do you think, given a higher profile with celebrity faces, it
would increase public awareness?
KB: If you have ever seen Mark Ruffalo interviewed on
the oil sands he goes crazy. A celebrity being interested
is one thing, and the more people talking about it the
better. People need to be able to see ‘how does it relate
to me?’ People on T.V. can talk about anything but if it
doesn’t generate personal resonance with the audience,
the ones who are watching will change the channel. My
goal with PetroState is to make the topic interesting to
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Issue #02 2012
KB: People realize the harm it’s causing but at the same
time they’re thinking of, well how am I going to feed my
family and myself today? In the communities around
the oil sands you often see families starting young and
new parents dropping out of school at a really young
age. You need to do something to provide yourself and
your kids with food. It is such a complex issue and it
does benefit people. It’s hard. I’m biased because I do
think that we need to transition away form the oil sands
and go for more renewable sources but it needs to be
acknowledged that the oil sands are bringing in wealth
to people who need it.
What was it like filming in Fort McMurray?
KB: The industry is incredibly strict about what you
can film and the government has just hired a bunch
of RCMP officers to look for eco terrorists. One day we
were about 200 ft away from the fences marking
private property. We were filming at the side of the
road getting some footage of the oil sands and an
RCMP officer pulled us over asking for ID, asking
what we were doing so close, who we were filming
with and why we were filming. When he came back
from his car he said ‘we have to search everyone to
make sure they aren’t eco terrorists’, and he reminded us that this was a dangerous area saying ‘this is
toxic stuff here you know, it’s tar sands’. I’ve heard
of other reporters also taking pictures from public
places and being stopped by police.
That level of security makes you wonder what it is that
they are keeping so closely guarded. There are billions
of dollars invested in the sands, what would be a better
use of the money?
KB: Instead of putting those billions of dollars
into fossil fuels, the energy source of the 19th
century, why don’t we join the 21st century and
put that money towards renewable energy sources,
or towards further studying alternative possibilities.
Canada has a lot of leading scientists in renewable
energy, but there aren’t many jobs for them here,
so they go to Germany to work. There needs to be
money put into funding scientists to work here and
look at what renewable energy sources are going to
work best for specific areas.
Follow Kathleen’s progress at :
Facebook.com/PetroState
Twitter.com/KathleenBlack
www.indiegogo.com/petrostate
ROSS
PROULX
TECHNICOLOUR DREAMING
Words by Dahara Mnemosyne
Art by Ross Proulx
R
oss Proulx is kind of like the brother you didn’t
know you had, whose room is a thoughtful laboratory of clean lines and precise images producing carefully
considered gig posters, logos, and art prints, which your
metaphorical parents proudly pin to the rhetorical fridge.
If that fridge were the walls and telephone poles of Ottawa, and your parents were promoters for such acts as
Timbre Timbre, Tokyo Police Club, and Yukon Blonde. If
your brother was now starting to get international attention for his fridge-pinned work.
Ross sits in front of me at Bridgehead wearing a pair of
eyeglasses with mathematical symbols embossed on the
hinges. How’d he get into gig posters? Well, he’s been
doing it for 4 years. At first, testing the waters, he’d offered local promoter Shawn Scallen a trade in gig posters
for free shows. He discovered that he liked it, and pretty
soon had new clients from Ottawa and beyond eager for
his work. “I really appreciate that Shawn gave me the
opportunity to work with clients at such an early stage in
the game, and really attribute any success to having been
given that chance by him. Because if I hadn’t been given
that opportunity, I wouldn’t have come into contact with
other clients.”
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Ross has a wry sense of humour and a clarity of approach. “Really, the internet has been my best friend in
this, because it created things such as gigposters.com—
a web database for people to upload their most recent
work. That website got me enough exposure to get into a
design book published in the UK.” He also has his own
website, www.rossproulx.com, complete with a gallery
and an online store.
In the Spring of 2012, Ross and Marisa Gallemit [local sculptor and curator at the Manx pub on Elgin, in
Ottawa] had a conversation about doing a show at the
Manx, and to Ross it felt “sort of like a fate sort of
thing.” They contacted each other simultaneously to
fill October’s art show slot and, as Ross describes it,
“Marisa was super helpful and super encouraging and
super inspiring and she really pushed me to be confident about my work, and despite the fact that I was
extremely worried about how the show would have done,
Marisa told me the day we hung that the show would
sell out, and she was right.” A personal motivational
oracle! It was the first time Ross had “used his graph-
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Issue #02 2012
ics and their imagery to tell a story, just illustration, to
display influences.” The Manx show sold out in two and
a half weeks and enjoyed a great reception. Ross was
pleasantly surprised. It also got him an invitation to participate in further shows.
Ross loves Ottawa, for all its limitations. “A lot of
people seem to think that in order to be creative you
have to be in a big city, but it seems like what Ottawa
has that others don’t is Ottawa has this small tightknit community that looks out for each other and really
tries to help each other and wants to see each other
succeed, whether it be in music or in design or visual
arts. It makes it very difficult for me to think about ever
leaving. That’s something that Ottawa designers go
through on a regular basis: do I really try to push what
I’m doing here, despite the fact it’s a smaller city with
less of everything, smaller budgets, smaller client pool,
etc…? But it doesn’t mean that an Ottawa person can’t
do work internationally. Having that internet connection
means you can work for anyone, as long as you can send
the files.”
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FROM ACORN
TO TREES:
ROLF KLAUSENER
Words by Stephanie Vicente
Photography by Pat Bolduc
There’s an animal in town whose artistic enterprises
have developed into this sort of mutually symbiotic relationship with our city’s creative culture. It may seem
redundant to point out that an animal has a relationship with his environment, and that each sustains the
other, but how would you feel if I told you that Ottawa’s
creative culture is, at least partly, dependent on this
animal of a man? Rolf Klausener is kind of a King of the
Jungle, or perhaps more accurately he is a Guardian of
the Arboretum.
Rolf Klausener is one of the leading characters in Ottawa’s current coming-of-age tale. Rolf has been on a
nearly two-year hiatus from songwriting, but he has not
been idle. Rather, in his downtime, Rolf has been raising the stakes. Perhaps his most valuable recent contribution to Ottawa culture is a new way to celebrate the
arts: the annual Arboretum Festival had its inaugural
edition September 2012. Rarely has anyone seen such
a successful opening. But with one under his belt, the
Tarzan of Centre Town has swung back into songwriting.
Fans of The Acorn, rejoice! We can look forward to yet
another album.
Years ago, after a stint in Germany for his third year of
university, Rolf decided to change his path. Being the
irrepressibly creative person that he is, he went to photography school. Then he started a band. They called
themselves The Acorn and toured for five solid years,
with remarkable success. Road-weary, Rolf returned to
Ottawa, at which point our protagonist then lost himself
to a broken heart. “I felt I had nothing to write about for
two years. I was afraid to face myself,” he says, when
asked why he turned his back on music for those years.
In response to his heartache, Rolf flipped his life over
for a year, taking up a job as a server at the Manx, and
working in communications for Saw Video. “What’s interesting is all the connections I was making in that year
would ultimately help me build Arboretum. I thought I
was running away from myself, but it all came full circle
in the end.” When he first returned from tour, Rolf felt
estranged from the town. The city was unfamiliar to him,
and for a brief period, he considered relocating to Montreal. What kept him here was the noticeable shift in the
local culture’s dynamic. “It’s exciting to see how much
your city changes in 5 years, especially the amount
of self-made fun that’s happening. For years scenes
weren’t talking to each other. But then I noticed all of
these different niches coming together as opposed to
divided as groups.” And so, Rolf stuck around, plowed
through the grief (in all sorts of ways), and uncovered
some untapped know-hows within himself and within
the scene at large.
Arboretum Music+Arts Festival had a serendipitous
start. “I was sitting at the bar at Zen Kitchen and this
blond haired gal sat next to me. We got to talking and
it turned out we had a gajillion friends in common. She
asked if The Acorn would play for her fundraiser.” That
gal, Marlene Power, would later become co-founder and
chair of Arboretum. Some time later, Marlene asked
Rolf to take a look at the land her friend had agreed to
lend out for the event. They went out to scout the location, and Rolf fell in love with the land (nestled near
Wakefield, Quebec). “When I saw the location, I said,
fuck a fundraiser, let’s throw a festival here!” Unfortunately, amid all of the planning and booking of talent,
the ideal setting fell through, and Rolf and Marlene were
without a venue. “Just as this happened,” he says, “I
was already talking with the Jail Hostel about a show
for Silkken [Silkken Laumann, another of Rolf’s musical
groups], when they said we could rent out the parking
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25
lot for Arboretum.” The rest fell into place without a hitch.
Having worked at the Manx and building solid relationships with others within the food and service industry,
Rolf reached out to restaurants, asking for their participation in the new festival. “We didn’t want to charge them a
vendor’s fee, we just wanted them involved.” And having
already established connections at Arts Court via his work
at Saw Video, Rolf had himself a media arts curator, Lesley
Marshall. Music, art, food—all in one alternative space, all
in one day, and all in good fun.
Now, the broken heart rehabilitated and Arboretum prospering, Klausener’s energy has spilled into songwriting
once again. This time, it’s personal. “The Acorn has always
been pretty observational music. Whether I was writing
about my city, or about my mom’s life, I never really had
the self-awareness or gumption to really dig deep into the
things that make me tick, excite me, and conversely scare
the ass-balls off me.” As Rolf gradually grew out of his
game of hide-and-seek with himself, he found solace in
his relationship with fellow members of the band. To him,
they became the friends he felt he could expose the bare
bones of his inner self to. “I don’t make male friends easily, and it’s been a real revelation getting close to them,”
Rolf says, of fellow Acorn members Adam Saikaley, Pat
Johnson, and Jordan Howard. “There’s a lot of disclosure
between us, and there’s really nothing I can’t share with
them.“ The new album, titled VIEUX LOUP, was written and recorded at a point in Klausener’s life where he
is ready to say what he wants to say, without censorship,
without allegory. “Every time I find myself veiling some
difficult or vulnerable thought in metaphor, I strip that shit
back and ask myself: ‘What the hell are you REALLY trying to say, Rolf. Just say it.’” What can fans expect to hear
on the new album? Soul, some more drum programming,
drones, and delays, and “honest jams.” One thing is for
certain: under Rolf’s royal guardianship, Ottawa’s creative culture is in good hands. While we at Herd are glad
that Rolf’s broken heart has mended, we just hope he gets
those ass-balls checked by a licensed physician.
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SELF-STARTER AARON CAYER
OWNER OF ANTIQUE SKATE SHOP
Words by Stephanie Vicente
Photography by Andrew Szeto
“
H
a. Skate shops don’t make money,” Aaron Cayer
replied, when I asked him how the bank roll was
treating Antique Skate Shop, as we stood across from
one another outside of Oz Kafe one fall night. For days
this stuck with me. I relished in the fact that Aaron not
only volunteers his time to support skateboard culture
among the less fortunate youth of the Ottawa region,
but he also hosts events in the shop’s space as a venue
for the creative community. Does that makes him some
sort of philanthropist, goodwill type person? On the
contrary, Aaron claims to be a “true right-winged capitalist,” someone who knows how the market works and
wants to see competition for goods and services. By day,
Aaron Cayer is a civil servant, and by will of his free
time), a skateboarder. This 29-year-old skateboarder
sary funds to get his dream off the ground. In the end,
though, he had to get himself a personal line of credit.
“It’s incredibly difficult to get a business loan in today’s
market. So now, it’s all on my ass.”
disguised as a federal government employee turned entrepreneur turned humanitarian is doing things his way,
and has received a tremendous response from his peers
and neighbours in Ottawa.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. Aaron confesses he’s got a
silent partner, who, having opened a skate shop himself
25 years ago, has a great rapport with brands and works
the backend of Antique. “I’m the pretty face,” says
Aaron, with a goofy smile. But even with a partner who’s
been in the business for nearly three decades, Cayer
finds it difficult to get certain brands into the shop.
“Other parties often block you from picking up brands.
That’s their way of competing. I don’t believe in that.
A lot of people don’t understand how a market operates and that competition is healthy.
We’re just trying to do good things.
We’re trying to show people a different
path.” Aaron has found that within
the last 6 months business has been
better. The cause? It’s hard to tell, but
he believes the industry is growing
due to the increase in competition.
As a result, everyone has been forced to work harder,
and to work together at times. It appears that working
together and embracing competition are not mutually
exclusive, as many assume.
Antique, located at 9 Florence Street, opened for business on March 10th, 2012. Aaron spent the winter leading up to this milestone writing business plans, proposals, grant applications, and pushing for business loans.
He thought if he had it laid out all pretty in front of
some wealthy third parties, they’d lend him the neces-
Having noticed Antique’s reoccurring collaborative efforts with En Equilibre (EQ Skate Shop), I asked Cayer
to shed a little insight on the personal and professional
relationship between the two shops. Aaron’s been
friends with Phil, the manager of EQ, for a long time.
Moreover, both shops share a similar philosophy when
What happens in fields? Sex, drugs,
drinking. They aren’t using it for
soccer. You build a skatepark and
it will be used for skateboarding.
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hosting events. “It’s about fun and it’s about skateboarding. It’s not so serious.” I wondered aloud if the
Ottawa-Gatineau region could sustain multiple skate
shops, especially shops that offer the same vision.
“We’re far enough away from one another that we sort
of help bridge the gap from the Quebec side to the Ottawa side,” Aaron assured me.
I needed to know why this so-called capitalist opened
a shop without any expectation of making a generous
living off of it. “We wanted to build something different,” he said. “We used to have this little community
at On Deck and people would come and talk about
skateboarding and there was a sense of belonging and
discussion. It was a spot where people could come in
and breathe skateboarding. That’s what we want to create here.” Both Aaron and his silent partner work nineto-five jobs to support Antique Skate Shop. They’d love
to spend 100% of their time focused on the shop itself,
but that has not yet come to fruition.
One of Antique’s community initiatives is a program
by the witty name of For Pivot’s Sake, a project that
donates completes (fully built skateboards with trucks,
wheels, and decks) to the youth in Ottawa whose families live far below the poverty line. “It’s not about getting every kid into skateboarding or whatever, we just
want them to engage with a different group of people,
even if it’s just one kid.” Another outlet for Aaron’s
activist nature is the leadership he has taken in the
charge to get some permanent concrete up-to-date
skate parks in the city. I asked the loaded question:
Why should the city care? “The city responds to the
wants and needs of the community, that’s their role as
a government,” he said. Good point, but that doesn’t
mean they will respond. “There’s been a change in
youth culture: it’s about ME—my Twitter, my Instagram,
my Facebook. They build soccer fields. But this doesn’t
engage the youth. What happens in fields? Sex, drugs,
drinking. They aren’t using it for soccer. You build a
skatepark and it will be used for skateboarding.” Aaron
and his peers have been somewhat the media darlings,
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Issue #02 2012
with a good rapport with the CBC, as well as the city’s
councillors. “They’ve been responsive and totally supportive. They’ve committed to building 5 permanent
concrete skateparks in 15 years.”
While Aaron lends his time to these good causes, he
also lends his shop to the community by allowing local
organizations and individuals to host their events, art
shows, clothing swaps, photography exhibits, whatever.
The door to Antique is always open to anyone from the
creative community. Some of the coolest endeavours in
the city are hosted at Antique Skate Shop, so we sent
one of Herd Magazine’s contributing writers, Mallory
Jones, to get some behind-the-scenes coverage on how
the hell all these talented people come together under
one roof. (Peep the next page for some words and photos regarding This is Good Things, that took place on
November 30th, 2012, at 9 Florence Street).
Herd magazine
31
THIS IS GOOD THINGS
Words by Mallory Jones
Photography by Jess Deeks & Andrew Szeto
O
ttawa said farewell to November and goodbye
to awkward mustaches with an evening of collaborative gold. Two local companies, N-Product and
FancyBoys, instigated what many agree is a really Good
Thing. They brought together an eclectic team and
showed where a little hard work and a mutual love for
beer, skateboarding, and tacos can get you.
How did Good Things come about?
Dom Coballe (co-owner of N-Product/co-creator of Good
Things): I remember like it was yesterday…
Martin Gomez (owner of FancyBoys/co-creator of Good
Things): Ya, [laughs] we were running into each other
at all the other events in town, the conversation naturally turned into doing our own thing. We knew what
we liked.
Dom: And especially what we didn’t like. We wanted
minimal BS really, right?
The first installment of Good Things saw a collaborative
brew, a video of the takeover of the Beau’s Brewery by
skateboarders, tacos, photos (with national exposure),
and a significant event at Antique Skate Shop.
Jordan Bamforth (graphic designer with Beau’s Beer):
We loved the concept right from the start and just kind
of ran with it. Beer, tacos and skateboarding… How
could you say no to that? These are all things that we
take very seriously at Beau’s. I’ll admit that I was a little
nervous but the fears melted away as soon as the guys
from Antique started skating, they were real pros and
really good at what they do. I was really amazed at their
creativity and vision.
Dom: The entire thing came together because of our
idea of ‘let’s assemble good people, who do good work
and really let them do their thing.’
Photographer Andrew Szeto: It was his [owner of Beau’s
Steve Beauchesne’s) attitude that leant itself to all of
us doing anything. It was like, oh fuck, this guy owns
this place and he’s the one that’s most down with this.
The shots were solid, none of it really has to do with
me though. They [the skaters] really took it and made
it their own, it’s what skateboarders do. We sent it in to
Concrete and they want to run something with it now so
it’s like yeah, we get some national coverage out of it, too.
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Why collaborate?
Aaron Cayer (owner of Antique Skate Shop): Bringing
the right-minded people together is always a good thing,
you generate ideas which you might not have had otherwise. It’s a matter of synergy.
Szeto: It adds another level of accountability. It is so
important. You don’t want to let somebody else down.
It takes everyone up to another level, that’s what’s up!
It’s going to bring us all up to where we need to be in
this city.
Videographer Guillaume Lebel: Working with new people
who you aren’t entirely comfortable with… that’s fun. I
do it for fun and because I get to work with my friends.
Martin: Collaborating allows you to do things you don’t
normally do. We are limited by our available resources
within a company, if you are willing to collaborate outside of your team you’re not, it’s simple.
Jon Reilley-Roe, owner of TacoLot: I collaborate because
I get to work with my friends who are always doing amazing things, and I don’t have to do too much. There are a
lot of collaborations going on and I don’t think enough
people know about it yet but we are now finding a forum
online to get them out there and people are showing up
at the parties now. That’s all that really matters.
Aaron: Small businesses, small firms, small people,
when we get together we grow a little bit but not to the
point that we are ruining each other. Collaborating with
these guys has taught us [at Antique Skate Shop] to
pursue this type of thing in the future. Let’s expand our
horizons and connect with different people, doing the
same thing and always keep it small, keep it local, keep
our focus on what we’re doing.
Dom: Collaborations allow us this vehicle to do all the
things we’ve always dreamt of doing. You want to do
good by the people you’re associated with because you
believe in them as much as you believe in yourself.
We like working with other people. There are so many
talented people in Ottawa, Chrystal (co-owner of NProduct) and I think it’s like a buffet.
Jordan: It’s both fun and a great learning experience
when you share knowledge with others in reaching a
common objective. It’s important for local businesses to
work together, we can share resources to showcase each
other’s strengths and bring each other new exposure
through each other’s customer base… and ultimately
create something that is bigger and better than the sum
of our parts.
Real collaboration is seen when we take the best of all
the individual ideas, and from that build the best possible solution. It’s not compromise. We are not diluting
ideas down but rather playing them up to build something better than any one person could have done alone.
The potential that collaborative initiatives provide for
business, for our community and for us as individuals is
unlike anything else. Herd magazine
35
Words by Michael Brian Fields
Illustrations by Joey Arseneau
S
MANTIS
ILLUSTRATION
pring had come early that year; the crickets were in
my head keeping me up all hours of the night. Their
chirps chased me out of the house, out of the office, out
of the park. Even the ear-mufflers I wore couldn’t quiet
them. They buzzed in my coffee, in my desk drawer, in
the underground garage beneath the shopping mall while
I waited for the bus, further exhausted by the coachman’s unpredictability—an ordeal that has always inspired in me a feeling of fatal reluctance. Nothing in my
life was within my control. But the unseasonably warm
weather was not the only surprise waiting for me that
day: the late-afternoon bus arrived exactly on time.
My first instincts were of incertitude, disbelief. I knew
there had to be some mistake: that this was the preceding bus running late or the following bus running early.
But the incessant cricketing, now ubiquitous, urged me
to board. The adrenaline eyes of the driver should have
alerted me to the crisis (if not his unprecedented punctuality) but it wasn’t until halfway down the aisle that I
noticed something was wrong. A stifling silence filled the
bus. The commuters I pushed passed regarded me with
queer, frightful glances. Suddenly self-conscious I reddened at the thought that it had happened again: I was
the object of their loathing. I pulled my collar up to my
ears, trying to hide from their stares when an emerald
flash caught my eye and I saw, through the crowd of forward pressed passengers, at the back of the bus, next to
the only empty seat, sat the mantis.
Anguish quickly filled the vacuum vacated by my fleeting
shame. My heart sank at the verification of my doctor’s
prognosis: I was a maniac. I held the bar for support
while the bus hulaed me in lazy circles, anchored by the
balls of my feet. My hands became sweaty and slick and
my vision began to swim as it always does before one of
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#01 2012
2012
Issue
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my fits when clarity suddenly presented itself and I saw,
in quick succession, as though through a time-dilated
zoetrope, the folly of my fear. I was not sick, not hallucinating. It was quite simple: the mantis was real.
My first clue was the empty seat next to him. Its vacancy sang to me of his corporeality. The afternoon bus
was near capacity. Commuters hung from the railing like
coats pressed into a closet. An empty seat at rush-hour
was not only extraordinary; it was utterly inconceivable.
My second clue was the atypical behavior of the passengers. Around me everyone was buried in books whose
pages never turned. No sound of conversation, no crinkle of folding newspapers or headphone overflow marred
the gentle lullaby of the engine hum. From their sweaty
eyes and short-quick breaths to their flushed cheeks
and elevated blood pressure I could see what was happening. The commuters had convinced themselves that
the mantis was not real. I knew the symptoms well.
They thought they were hallucinating. They thought they
were in the clutches of madness and it was only the
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Issue #02 2012
belief that those next to them—the other passengers—
could not see the mantis that kept them quiet and still
in their seats, lest they reveal themselves as lunatics.
Third and finally: my hallucinations are exclusively limited to members and subspecies of the katydid family.
My delight was two-fold: that the mantis was real meant
that I was not insane; that the mantis was real meant
that I, for once, was not the source of the commuter’s
revulsion. But the feeling didn’t last. Pity stirred deep
in my soul. I watched the mantis out of the corner of my
eye. He kept his head down, trying to make himself as
small as his thorax would allow, trying to disappear from
sight. I was moved by empathy. So many times had I,
too, wanted to shrink from existence; so many times
stared at and wondered at. He kept his forelegs tucked
in to his abdomen in a gentle prayer. The mantis: a
reluctant misanthrope, cast aside, denied his very existence. I saw myself reflected a thousand times in his
compound eyes.
Moved by compassion my course was revealed to me.
The next stop was nearing. Afraid of missing my chance
I approached the mantis. I could see him tense at my
advance. The whole bus held its breath as I squeezed
into the seat next to him. I had hoped my presence
there would comfort him, boost his wounded pride,
but a shiver of loathing shook him from abdomen to antenna. His mandibles twitched in irritation. He had my
sympathy; there is no worse displeasure than losing the
comforting buffer of an empty seat to a stranger.
He stretched nearly two meters sitting down; his head
almost hitting the roof of the bus, the exoskeleton of his
face a bright emerald against the navy seat. The suit he
wore further convinced me of his reality: my hallucinations would never be seen in public in such ignominious
attire. His jacket hung on him like a plastic bag stuck
on a branch. I smiled to see that his cuffs were marred
with moth-holes. This one fact above all others humanized him and whatever small fears I may have harbored
melted away; sitting next to him I felt peculiarly safe.
His cologne reminded me of summer mornings and of
bleeding, fresh-cut grass.
We had left the city and the bus was now racing west
along the river parkway. The evening sun hung over the
water and the eyes of the mantis absorbed that light like
a golden sponge. I wanted to weep, to live in that warm
kaleidoscope reflection for eternity when I noticed the
passengers had not stopped their frightened glances.
Scions of indignant rage began to pullulate deep
within me.
As we left the parkway the mantis reached his foreleg
up and unfolding it with slow calculation, like the opening of a Chinese fan, he plucked the bell cord. His stop
was next. It was in that instant that I saw my opportunity. A plan began to coalesce in my mind. I would extract revenge, for his sake as well as mine. I would give
substance to the commuters’ belief that the mantis was
merely a hallucination, a product of their own lunacy.
But know this, my emerald friend; I acted with your
Herd magazine
39
33
interest in mind. If you are reading—if you can read—it
was not you I aimed to harm that day, but they—those
who so cocksure and so frequently stomp on solecistic
souls like you and me.
As the bus pulled into the station the mantis began to
send me the standard signals that he would soon alight:
folding his newspaper, packing his briefcase, fidgeting
in his seat; all the conventional indicators that I was
to let him pass. I didn’t budge. I could plainly see his
discomfort, but I had to maintain the illusion that he
wasn’t real. I kept my knees locked in front of me. His
mandibles snapped and opened as he tried so pathetically to make the words in a language alien to him. My
heart broke at the puerile hiss he uttered that passed
for a plea. I didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his request. The bus lurched out of the station. The mantis
looked forlornly out the window as his stop disappeared
behind us. Again at the next stop he rang the bell and
tried to slink past me but I remained ignorant to his
suggestions. He missed stop after stop, a prisoner in
the seat next to me. Ever the gentleman he never once
prodded me, never bumped me or tried to step over my
outstretched legs. He just sat there, resigned to fate.
Perhaps he had convinced himself that he really was
invisible, that he didn’t exist. I wish I could go back
and tell him: you are real, mantis. You are real, and
you are beautiful.
From suburb to suburb, further and further from his
home he remained trapped, until eventually my own
stop came. I exited and the mantis followed close be-
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Issue #02 2012
hind, right on my heels. I could see the sidelong stares
of commuters pressed up against the window, waiting for my devouring to commence. Outside, the early
evening air was still warm. The smell of spring hung
everywhere. The mantis took off his suit jacket and
folded it over his foreleg. Diaphanous wings stuck out
of the shoulders of his vest. He stared at me with an
uncomprehending sadness that still haunts me to this
day. I turned to walk home but he stood in front of me,
blocking my path. Faced with the prospect of knocking
him over I stopped and looked up at him. His mandibles
twitched - in joy or anger, I couldn’t tell. For a long time
we looked at one another. Was he waiting for an apology,
an explanation, an invitation to dinner? I’ll never know.
I was too ashamed to say anything. Did he understand
why? Did he understand that my behavior on the bus
was necessary?
Eventually he turned around and began his long walk
back to town. I started to call out to him, to explain
everything, but I grew shy. I watched as he first strolled
and then jogged and then with a great leaping bound
broke into a run. His long strides took him across fields
and parking lots, over cars and over trees. The setting
sun reflected off his wings in iridescent rainbows. I
watched him for a long time, awed at his effortless dignity. I watched him until his gangly form disappeared
into the evening and I was left alone at the bus-stop.
Languid, I turned to begin my own slow, sluggish walk
home. It was then that I noticed the absolute silence all
around me. The crickets had stopped chirping.
Herd magazine
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RAHELEH SANEIE:
AN ARTIST PROFILE
Words by Amanda Spadafora
Film Stills by Raheleh Saneie
R
aheleh Saneie is a video artist, a photographer, an
academic, and a performer who lives and practices
in Ottawa. Much of her work is shaped by what it means
to be an Iranian-Canadian woman in our culture today.
She makes use of her body and various media to exemplify (and draw inspiration from) contemporary female
artists who turn away from painting and other forms of
traditional art in order to reclaim both women’s autonomy
of their own bodies and women’s influence in the art
industry. Rah is a political activist within the arts community in Ottawa and has shown her work internationally.
Her work is uncompromising, honest, fearless. It makes
people uncomfortable, ranging from themes of back alley abortions to images of hairy testicles placed atop ice
cream cones. She has recently refined and focused her
art—departing from photography and entering into an exciting phase of experimental video and performance. Her
newest video work exhibits the centrality of her political
passions to her creative inspiration.
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How was the move from photography to video?
In photography you are limited to one frame, and because
I have a lot to say, I find that photography can be limiting. My subject matter can come across as intimidating
and difficult to look at or confront, so with video I am
able to use a more subtle approach to convey my ideas.
Apparently people don’t like to be yelled at [laughs] and
my photographs tend to do that. I do, however, admire
that aspect of photography, where the artist is limited to
that single moment and image, challenging you to focus
your thoughts and ideas in a single frame.
Most of the work you’re doing is a combination of both video
and performance art. Have you considered doing live performance pieces?
I actually have done some street performance recently.
On September 7th, the Canadian government shut down
the Iranian embassy, which limits accessibility to members of the diaspora community, not so much myself
because my family and I have been in exile since we
left Iran in 1988. In my performance I stood outside
of the embassy dressed in traditional Persian garb and
handed out tea. Tea is a big part of Iranian culture; we
offer people tea when they come into our homes.
to think, at what point am I perpetuating these ideologies? I mean, I’m not living in Iran, but I’m making
images and videos about Iran without really knowing. I
only know what I’ve read or been told or have seen in
the media. However, the title of my work Oriental Drag
clearly demonstrates that I am at least acknowledging
the ideas surrounding self-exotification.
Is your latest work about your life in exile?
In one of your newer works there are two videos placed
side by side, and in one of them you are threading your
face. Is this something that you have grown up doing?
Yea, it’s all about diaspora, it’s about my sense of
ambivalence and hybrid identity… I find there’s a lot
of conflict with that, I mean, on one hand I have an
Iranian upbringing, but on the other hand I’ve grown
up in Canada surrounded by Canadian traditions. It’s
a constant battle between East and West. I find a lot
of the time the East is represented as exotic, threatening, or romanticized. These are ideas that I would like
to challenge, but I’m finding it very difficult. I begin
Yea, threading is something that women do together and
because hair removal is really big in Iran, we do it often.
It’s definitely a skill and you can become really precise
with it. It’s also because we have so much hair to work
with and being able to shape your eyebrows whichever
way you want is kind of an indulgence for women there,
I think, as far as the beauty thing goes.
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Last April you showed a video piece at Saw Gallery for
the show, Ciphers: Tension with Tradition in Contemporary
Iranian Photography. What was the process of making this
video? The music and poses are really interesting.
Well the video is comprised of 1000 images. There’s
generally 24 frames per second but I extended the
lengths of some of the frames so that it goes with the
music. It was actually really difficult to get the transitions between poses to flow nicely, which probably took
me the most time. As far as the music goes, I composed
it with a DJ, you can hear my voice repeating sounds,
I did all of the scratching, and the metal sound in the
background is actually a fork and a glass clicking together. It was a lot of fun! I really wanted to show the
process in this work, that’s why I left the studio visible
in the shots. I wanted to strip it away from being highly
aestheticized and too beautiful. The dance poses were
inspired by a bunch of things: Iranian dancing, Vogue,
house music, and break dancing. It’s kind of a little bit
of everything!
You’re very passionate and determined about your art and
what you want to say. How do you stay motivated? What
keeps you inspired?
I think that looking at other art and getting inspired by
other artists around me definitely keeps me wanting to
keep creating and pushing myself. I’m really into conceptual art, especially the works of Ana Mendieta and
Shirin Neshat. I’ve had a lot of people telling me that
they’re sick of identity based art and conceptual art. I
find that, for me, being a part of a marginalized community, I want to talk about these issues. I know that not
all art needs to be about politics, but I definitely think
there’s room for it. For me, art is a form of activism, and
my medium of resistance is art.
Since the beginning of the current economic downturn in 2008,
food bank usage in Canada has increased by 31 percent. In
Ottawa, 48,000 people rely on food banks every month. At this critical time, the Stephen Harper Conservatives are further
cutting social programs like Employment Insurance and
Old Age Security, and continuing their program of tax cuts for
large corporations.
la
The Public Service Alliance of Canada is working hard to reverse
these cuts and promote strong, publicly-delivered social services
for the Ottawa herd. psac-ncr.com
44
Issue #02 2012
SEED TO SAUSAGE
Words and Photography by Kelly Brisson
I
t’s been a stitch over a year since I found myself in
the middle of a rain-drenched open field, hands holding faithfully on to a crumpled paper bag filled, not with
my usual 40 ouncer of Olde English 800, but with a
knobby, oblong-shaped Sopressata that, once consumed,
would change the way I purchase cured deli meats to
this day. It was a moment of clarity. A contented sigh
and an exhaled, barely audible, “Fuck…” was all I could
muster before rabidly gnawing off another hunk of carnivorous excellence. If I’d thought that what I’d been
eating all these years was real salumi, I was piss-poorly
mistaken. It was the 2011 Beau’s Oktoberfest and my
first encounter with Seed to Sausage. When the day was
done, and all of Seed to Sausage’s salumi had been transubstantiated in the guts of beer-drinking, lederhosenclad men and women, it was clear that this was a man
who was about the change the face of the charcuterie in
the National Capital Region.
Seed to Sausage, a family-run and ethically-focused venture started by Ottawa-born and one-time Armed Forces
member Michael McKenzie, has single-handedly created
a booming awareness of what real, honest salumi and
deli meats should taste like. While the restaurant and
dining scene has been pulsating with buzz words like
offal, nose-to-tail, charcuterie, and house-cured everything, it’s more than just a fleeting trend for McKenzie
and his family. This is the foundation and promise on
which they’ve built their company. Every pig that comes
through the doors of McKenzie’s Sharbot Lake shop,
which is open for retail during warmer months, is butchered in-house, from head to tail. Waste is not something
looked on fondly by this family and every measure is taken to ensure the utmost respect for each pig butchered
at their hand. You may be thinking “Ok, he’s respectful
of his ingredients—that’s nothing new in the industry…”,
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Steph Bolduc - There is no Box
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47
but McKenzie doesn’t just pick any ol’ pig to haul into
the shop. After personally seeking out a farm that raises
its pigs ethically and responsibly, McKenzie ensures that
he can trace the life of every pig they butcher back to
the seed it was fed prior to, thus making the name Seed
to Sausage less of a cutesy play on a trendy movement
and more of an all-encompassing philosophy for this
small business. McKenzie states in a video on his website (seedtosausage.ca): “If we’re able to produce food
McKenzie ensures that he
can trace the life of every
pig back to the seed it was
fed prior to, thus making
the name Seed to Sausage
less of a cutesy play on a
trendy movement and more
of an all-encompassing
philosophy in this small
business.
to feed people a better, healthier way, I would love to be
part of creating a system to do that. Our philosophy at
Seed to Sausage is simply to make the best tasting food
that we can. If we can do this while utilizing as many
local ingredients and as few additives and preservatives
as possible, then I think we’ve done our job”. To simply
produce the goods, ship them to suppliers and sit back
while the money rolls in might sound plenty reasonable to
some small business owners, but that’s not what Seed to
Sausage set out to do.
Why preach about buying from local farms and producers being vital for our regional food system, given you’ve
likely had it bored into your skull from every newspaper,
magazine and pompous gourmand in town? There has
never been such an aggressive push for people to make
the shift over to locally grown food/products before, but is
it actually an educated shift or are we making the jump
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Issue #02 2012
to this new way of food because you’re not hip unless
you’re shopping local? There is nothing wrong with
shopping this way for the general reasons that it feels
good and puts money back into our local economy, but
educating yourself on the product you’re buying, who
makes it, how and where they source the ingredients
to create their goods is almost as important, and some
would argue more so, as simply spending the extra $10
on that package of local bacon just because it claims
to be locally produced. The how’s and why’s are what
separate the braggarts from the genuinely concerned
and appreciative buyers, and while you might not have
the time to research the apple-growers at your local
Farmer’s Markets, at the very least some concern should
be placed into the meat you purchase.
McKenzie seems as passionate about the process and
education behind Seed to Sausage as he does about
the salumi he produces. This past fall, some 20 chefs,
craft brewers, socially-concerned eaters, and everyday
Joes were invited to pile into the butchery with McKenzie and his team for a day at the butchery to learn
what happens from the second that pig is hauled in the
front door, to the time it’s placed beneath the heavy
glassed cold hutch for sale. This class, fittingly named
The Whole Hog; One Day, One Pig covered everything
from butchering and breaking down a whole hog with
resident butcher Martyn Jenkins, to preserving and
unearthing the mysteries of making your favourite sausages and fermented cured deli meats with McKenzie
himself, finishing with a class on smoking the preserved
meats from Chef Kalin Lawless. What would normally be
clandestine and hidden from the general public so as to
safeguard a process that’s proved successful to Seed to
Sausage as a company, was offered up to attendees with
ample detail and the opportunity to pose questions to
any of the instructors.
Being a driving force in the Farm-to-Table movement
is commendable all on its own, but maintaining a
transparency that forms a trust between business and
consumer and allows for conversations and questions
surrounding products is a step further in building a
better relationship with our local producers. As international meat buying becomes less and less sustainable,
it’s so important that consumers make it a priority to
ask questions, get involved and become educated consumers. The future of our food system relies on our demanding to know what goes into the food we purchase.
Herd magazine
49
BUREAUCRATIC IMPOTENCE
AND THE DEMOCRACY OF PAINT
Words by Dahara Mnemosyne
Photography by Dave Forcier
Ottawans interested in creative culture must ask: what’s
the ideal relationship between public administration
and the arts? The City of Ottawa is the archetypal Canadian Public Service City. October 2012: civil servants
make up 164,000 of 710,100 people employed in
the Ottawa-Gatineau Census Metropolitan Area (that’s
135,900 federal workers, nearly one-third of the national federal workforce).
This peculiar social experiment sets some quintessential Ottawa scenes. It was several times remarked in
surprise at a recent birthday party for a popular local
university academic that no government workers were
It’s the kind of place that
eats its young.
present. Knowing nods all around. #FirstWorldProblems,
you might say, but the stereotypes come easily to mind.
The doldrums of an endless ocean of grey flannel suits.
One boxy government building after another housing
dead-eyed hordes prominently displaying picturesnames-scancodes on identification cards clipped to
belts by retractable spring-loaded cords (ironically, the
easy identification of individuals results in the suppression of their difference). It conjures in the collective
imagination a bleak place of slushy monotony, anemic
art scenes, extinguished creativity and limited nightlife.
A recent Ottawa Tourism ad campaign assured the Quebecois public that the streets of our proud capital do
not actually shut at 5 p.m.
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Issue #02 2012
But there is a flip-side to these platitudes. It is oftentimes noted that because Ottawa is a Public Service
City it enjoys safety, well-maintained infrastructure and
resources, and is an excellent place to raise children.
Also, the more adventurous and optimistic among us
know the irrepressibility of Ottawa’s creative juices.
We must nonetheless acknowledge that Ottawa’s
creativity blossoms in reaction to (and oftentimes
despite) the looming presence of the public service
bureaucracy. Even with well-established venues, galleries, restaurants, music scenes, etc., a reputation
for blandness and a lack of creative culture remains.
There are specific reasons for this, not the least being the institutional ethos of the traditional bureaucracy
of public administration (a specter haunting Ottawa for
over a century, but which on a much wider scale dates
back millennia).
What do I mean by this? Let’s get biblical. John of Patmos wrote the Book of Revelations nearly two thousand
years ago when Christians were a persecuted minority
and the Roman Empire spanned from the Atlantic to the
Indian Ocean and covered all of what is now England,
France, Spain, and the entire Mediterranean basin including Egypt and Turkey. He described its vast territories and the bureaucracy it depended on as: “the great
whore that sitteth upon many waters [Which makes me
think of Sea to shining sea]: With whom the kings of the
earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants
of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her
fornication. […D]runken with the blood of the saints,
and with the blood of the martyrs[…]” Ottawa-born art-
It transformed into possibly
the brightest patch of colour
and the best example of
inclusive community art
in the city.
ist Arthur II (his legal name, but not the one he was
born with in 1951) puts it a little more succinctly, having said of Ottawa that: “It’s the kind of place that eats
its young.” Arthur says that this Funkadelic appropriation was particularly true during the artistic dark ages
of Ottawa past, and is thankfully less so now, but it still
begs the question: How can a vibrant local grassroots
arts culture thrive in the bleak bureaucratic shadows of
a Public Service town? What role should public administration and the civil service play with respect to the
arts? A simple answer: government should recognize culture, not foster it; celebrate art, not produce it (the latter
is called propaganda). Subtle but important nuances.
Herd magazine
51
Arthur II is a bit of an Ottawa legend, conserving over
decades the flame of artistic creativity in a city of
candle snuffers. When he was 15 and living in Ottawa,
Arthur made a living doing artwork for bands and underground newspapers. He was one of the co-founders
of the downtown Saw Gallery in 1973. You can check
out his stuff at www.arthurii.ca. A worthy search on
YouTube: arthur ii the future saw gallery, for a short
documentary combining his songwriting, painting, and
performance art. For the past eight years, he’s run the
participatory mural at the Ottawa Folk Festival. Most
recently, he composed Irene’s Song, the official theme
song for Irene’s Pub in the Glebe. He’s got an art show
entitled The Wonderful Wizard of Oz hanging at Oz Kafe
for six weeks opening December 16th, 2012.
Anyways, this late Summer of 2012,
Arthur II walked a couple of blocks
from Irene’s Pub in the Glebe southwards to Holmwood Avenue. This
block forms part of the northern border of the misleadingly named Lansdowne Park Redevelopment project.
Previously on Holmwood between
Bank and O’Connor had been the Sylvia Holden Commemorative Park, with nesting wildlife
and children playing in a strip of mature trees buffering
a row of houses from the concrete expanse of Lansdowne Park beyond. With the redevelopment, in return
for losing their mini green belt, these Holmwood homes
receive a front-row view of five towering buildings housing theaters, storefronts, and a fourteen-story-high condo tower in the exact place of the Commemorative Park.
In the meantime, the contracting company responsible
for the project slapped up an eight-foot-high row of 280
rough square planks of plywood (parts of which will stay
in place for a couple of years). Living trees uprooted
and killed, replaced by their processed carcasses.
Arthur walked over to the plywood barrier, asking himself whether they will rename the park Blandsdowne.
Looking up the street, the raw lumber was a scar. The
wall had begun collecting crude tags (Jon ♥ Penis) and
bleak graffitto protesting the effect of the Lansdowne
developments on the quality of life on the block (This
Wall is 8 Feet/The Cinema Will Be 38 Feet High; the
scribble didn’t mention how high the condos would
be). One memorable scrawl railed against a perceived
fascist state (the pithily edited Money Conquers Tempts
Democracy). It was depressing. As Arthur shuffled down
the block, his friend Joe Johnson called out to him. Joe
lives in a postwar bungalow facing what is now the ply-
If you keep in mind that the public
service is the modern incarnation
of a bureaucracy of eunuchs and
slaves, certain aspects of Ottawa
living make a lot more sense.
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Issue #02 2012
wood wall, and everyday had to wake up to such dreary
blank plywood planks. Joe called out to Arthur. “You
want to look at that? You can do something about this,
know what I’m saying?” It just so happened, Arthur
could and did. Arthur II started painting pretty much
immediately and was at the wall day and night over the
next two and a half months, a relentless and productive
presence as it transformed into possibly the brightest
patch of colour and the best example of inclusive community art in the city.
The next night, Arthur was painting a portrait of a
woman’s henna-patterned face transforming into a flying
bird when two police patrol cars pulled up right behind
him. The officers questioned him: “What are you doing?” Arthur responded: “Painting the wall.” “Do you
have permission?” “I’m not trying to be smart, but my
friend who lives right there gave me permission. And I
gave myself permission.” “Did you get permission from
City Hall?” “No.” “Well, get it. CYA. Cover your ass.”
Arthur retired for the night, reflecting on how, had he
been twenty-something instead of sixty-something, he’d
probably be handcuffed and in the back of a police car.
Art is a matter of perspective.
Arthur II kept painting. After three days straight, Arthur
began dreaming of the wall. He had a dream of Pinocchio with a telephone pole as a nose. Up it went on the
wall. So did an impressionist take of Opeongo Lake.
Soon, neighbours started participating, and suddenly
the wall was alive. Conjured into being was a hummingbird, whale, robot, goldfish, octopus, elephant, dragon
and princess, seahorse, mournful clear-cut forest,
where’s Waldo, a prayer for Malala Yousafzai, an impressive looking cheeseburger, a broken heart called home,
the memory of a lost park, some stylish loons, and a
moving tribute to beards.
Soon, two well-meaning juniors (names withheld) arrived from the City of Ottawa’s Department of Parks,
Recreation and Culture. They had been sent to see if
they could come up with a community program, and
when they saw Arthur painting the wall they stopped to
chat with him for about an hour and realized that what
Arthur and the neighbourhood had undertaken represented the needs and desires of the community, and
that instead of bulldozing the project they would try to
help. Arthur shook their hand and said “Nice to meet
you.” He didn’t have any expectations. So, imagine his
surprise when they came back within a week with an
offer. The offer was a budget of $3,000 for paint, to
be split with the local artist collective Fall Down Gallery (located at Bank and Somerset), provided that Fall
Down be invited onboard as feature artists. The City also
suggested that the block be shut down for a Saturday
party with paint provided for the neighbourhood. To
Arthur, this sounded ideal. A few days later, it was confirmed and verbally guaranteed. “Sounds great,” Arthur
said. “Let’s go.”
It is no coincidence that the administrative bureaucratic
structure we expect and demand from the government,
which enjoys stability regardless of who wields political
power, dates to the birth of the Roman Empire. Octavian, the adopted son of Julius Caesar, pursued Mark
Anthony and Cleopatra until 1 August 30 BC, when
they committed suicide, he by sword and she by viper.
Triumphant Octavian became Augustus, 1st Emperor of
the Roman Empire. Three years later, 27 BC, Emperor
Augustus consolidated his reign decreeing that magistrates governing the various Roman provinces must be
replaced fairly regularly by candidates among the ruling
class (some yearly, others by occasional senatorial election). This ensured that none may pose a threat to the
Emperor by having too much power in any particular
area. The problem being that, in the Roman Republic,
whenever the governors left office by death or displacement, they took their bureaucratic apparatus of slaves
and eunuchs with them. So, in the name of the Empire,
Augustus bought up all the eunuchs and slaves he could
get his hands on, and put them in place administrating
the public funds. Since eunuchs and slaves could not
have families and weren’t full citizens, they were well
Herd magazine
53
suited to be servants to the civil state. This was the
birth of the public service and the origin of the wage
slave (poor families often castrated their male children
and sold them into public service, hoping that the castrated child would send his salary home). If you keep in
mind that the public service is the modern incarnation
of a bureaucracy of eunuchs and slaves, certain aspects
of Ottawa living make a lot more sense.
All this is a longwinded way of saying that, in very important ways, such as in the realm of spontaneous creativity, the public service is impotent. It does have an
important role to play in artistic creativity, however, and
I sat down with Whitney DeLion and Christian Awad,
Nobody’s gonna give you the
keys to the city. You’ve got to
put out your best and allow it
to be critiqued.
two parts of the local five-piece band called Sound Of
Lions, to ask them about their experience with public
funding. Sound of Lions came out with their debut
album entitled 11:44 in September of 2011, and followed up with a September 2012 release of their single
Storm Chasers and an accompanying music video.
While most bands have a team of producers and agents
and artistic help, Sound of Lions is very much DIY, but
they have had an excellent reception nonetheless. When
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Issue #02 2012
their album first came out, they received a lot of press,
including being awarded Best New Artist and Best Album by the now-defunct Ottawa Xpress in 2011. Soon
thereafter, they began receiving public funding as well
as recognition: on the municipal level, they headlined
the Shenkman Arts Centre’s 2012 musical showcase;
they submitted to and won a Popular Music Grant from
the Ontario Arts Council to record their second album;
they also received a FACTOR demo-recording grant from
the federal Canada Music Fund, and will be featured
at by the National Arts Centre Presents series in March
2013. Singer Whitney DeLion told me that while they
were “kinda caught off guard by how much work it was”
to make the video and release their single, it was a
necessary statement, telling the world: “This is who we
are.” This statement was a crucial step in the process of
getting public funding. Christian Awad said, “Nobody’s
gonna give you the keys to the city. You’ve got to put out
your best and allow it to be critiqued.” Christian said
that thanks to the above mentioned support, with their
second album, Sound of Lions “will have a lot more
reach.” This is the strength of public funding with respect to the arts: to recognize and celebrate artists who
are already successfully putting themselves out there,
and help them get to the next level. But this is true only
if the artists fit into the specific boxes that bureaucracy
can recognize and assimilate. The Holmwood wall falls
outside these simple lines, although as art it arguably
has greater direct impact on the lives of the surrounding
community than other art projects supported by public funding.
Soon after Arthur received his verbal guarantee, a CBC
Television van came rolling down Holmwood, hot on the
trail of something else. Journalist Steve Fisher saw a
kid painting a rhinoceros and when he stopped to take
a look at what was happening, someone explained the
mural project to him. Mr. Fisher seems to have realized that a movement was taking place and interviewed
Arthur on-camera. During the interview, which aired on
radio and television, Arthur mentioned the promised
upcoming block party. A few days later, Mayor Jim Watson dropped by, seemingly by random, as if he had just
happened been in the area (perhaps on corporate Lansdowne business). Mayor Watson stopped to talk with the
painters and Arthur said to him, “Jim, I started out a
vandal. A senior disobedient. And now everyone thinks
I’m OK.” To which the Mayor wittily replied, “It’s like
you’re King Arthur.” “More like Robin Hood!,” Arthur
said. The painters talked about how the experience had
been cathartic for the neighbourhood, that what had
before been a depressing scar was now a site of celebration, that it was like art therapy. To which Jim responded: “More like Arthur therapy!” Arthur rolled his eyes.
By the end of the week, the project and painting day
had been cancelled by the city. The official language
was “put on hold,” but with winter coming any delay
was an effective cancellation. Arthur was told that the
City was waiting for the Spring Budget (by which time
the wall would be completely painted). The Glebe Report, however, had written an article and had marked in
their calendar box that an unofficial paint party was go-
ing on nonetheless. Arthur felt obliged to issue a retraction, calling CBC Television to state that the city had
never officially acknowledged the party, and that there
was nothing happening. Nonetheless, on Friday afternoon at 3 o’clock, a municipal truck dropped off sixtyplus safety cones on Holmwood spread out along the
wall every fifteen feet from Bank to O’Connor, to protect
the possible painters who might show up the next day
for the unofficial and unsanctioned event. As it turns
out, the weather was nice, and dozens of people showed
up to paint the wall.
Needless to say, the wall was painted regardless of official sanction or support. Surely, there are legal issues
surrounding citizens painting on what is effectively
corporate property under construction. But my interest
here is in how a simple artistic project can improve the
quality of life for people whose parks have been taken
from them and who now have to look at concrete walls
instead of trees; in how self-organized direct collective action outperforms the top-down administration in
whose hands we have entrusted arts funding; in how
bureaucracy is enslaved to its budget and calendar, impotent and shortsighted to the detriment of the citizens
it is supposed to serve; in how, when all is said and
done, the voice of the community can be heard in the
democracy of paint.
Herd magazine
55
CAPITAL CRUSH
OTTAWA IMPROV
Words by Emma Godmere
Photography by Capital Crush
Y
ou know that feeling that electrifies you when you’re
face-to-face with a crush? Your heart flutters. Your
stomach tumbles. Your pulse races. You want to make love.
When you take a seat to catch a Crush Improv set at the
Elmdale Tavern, you get that head-rush, that heart-rush
all at once. It’s addictive. And it certainly keeps Ottawa
comedy audiences coming back for more.
“I don’t know what it is,” says A.L. Connors, one of the
founders of Crush and a mainstay in the capital improv
scene. “We’re drawing a real diverse group of people out
to our shows, and that’s awesome.”
Over the five years the troupe has been performing,
the local entertainment scene has engaged in heavy
flirtation with Crush Improv—but it’s hardly a simple
infatuation, it’s more like they’re dating steady. Crush
has been consistently packing houses at the Hintonburg
establishment for their first-Monday-of-the-month ‘Bout
Time shows, featuring teams of improvisers going headto-head in a hilarious competition setup; they’ve sold
out the Gladstone Theatre previously and have hosted
a regular gig showcasing directors working there this
season; and they’ve supported emerging talent through
improv workshops that have swelled in attendance and
popularity. As Crush celebrates its fifth birthday, it
shows no signs of slowing down.
It all started in 2007, when eager players were seeking
out jam space at the University of Ottawa.
“We’d just walk upstairs and crash a room that was
empty,” recalls Connors. “The five people who ended up
showing up on a regular basis for these open jams were
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Issue #02 2012
Cari [Leslie], Dave [Lindsay], Des [Warmington], myself,
and Brad [MacNeil].”
But before they officially took the stage for the first time
for a performance at Club Saw in the Saw Gallery, the
quintet had to settle on a name.
“We were looking at some of our favourite improv
troupes. Some of our favourite groups were [Winnipeg
troupe] Crumbs, [Edmonton-originated duo] Scratch,”
says Connors. “There were different meanings built into
the word, and Crush kind of worked in that sense. It was
short, and it could mean whatever you wanted it to mean.”
A couple of years ago, that opened the door for the
group to develop a popular summer series dubbed “My
Summer Crush” that saw a diverse group of local performers join them on stage at Arts Court above the Saw
Gallery, for their former Summer Fling event.
“I think this summer we would like to continue with
that, a summer arts series called ‘My Summer Crush’—
not only have improv shows, but produce shows for
other performances or groups that we have a crush on,
people we like,” Connors explains. “We want to give them
a venue and make it another summer comedy festival.”
Supporting fellow local talent is something Crush takes
to heart. Before the troupe was staging its own shows,
Crush members were often featured as guests in improv sets staged by other local groups. Since then, the
troupe has continued to pay it forward.
“I think what’s working with the improv community right
now is we’re not being competitive against each other,”
Herd magazine
57
says Connors. “The pool is too small to pick fights. If
every group continues to provide kind of an incubation
ground for new performers, those new performers will
then gain the experience they need to start their own
thing, and then that will provide another incubator for
what the next group is. I think—whether that’s intended
or not—that sort of inter-group cooperation is what’s
working, what has helped Ottawa find a wealth of performers that it may not have known it had previously.”
That wealth isn’t restricted to just the improv scene, Connors points out.
“There are a ton of little pockets of interesting things
going on,” he says. “We’ve been trying to go and branch
out and just see some of these alternative entertainment
channels here in town, not only to potentially scope out
other venues that would be suitable for us, but just to see
what the community’s into.”
Crush plans to test out new spaces and locations early
next year, as the Elmdale soon falls into new hands—
though sticking around Hintonburg isn’t out of the question. Either way, Crush has survived previous moves
between various venues in the city and even a near-total
lineup change—Dan Lajoie, Tim Anderson, and keyboardist Glen Gower have officially joined the company after
appearing in various Crush sets over the last few years,
while Leslie, MacNeil, and Jordan Moffatt of fellow local
troupe Grimprov remain members in absentia.
“When people step down, that’s always challenging,”
says Connors. But with a new, solidified lineup, and lofty
goals on the horizon—they’re currently brainstorming
ideas for an improvised serial and looking into the possibilities of all-ages venues, according to Connors—Crush
is at the peak of its game, and the troupe is looking forward to scoping out a new home in the new year. “We’re
hoping that we can find the next great thing in 2013.”
As Victorian-era art critic John Ruskin once wrote: “When
love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.”
They’ll give you something to crush about.
Neil Magadzia - Make Luck
59
55
YOUNG JANES
HANDPICKED COUTURE
Words by Ariana Molly
Photography by Pat Bolduc
Hair by Lucas Nault (lucasnault.com)
Models by Models International Management
Makeup by Jamie Gummo & Andrea Lindsey
Y
oung Janes is an eccentric and beautiful second
hand and vintage clothing store in a loft space
brimming with natural light on Dalhousie in downtown
Ottawa. It is a veritable wonderland of party dresses,
grandma knits, hand selected one of a kinds and costume
jewelry set in my ideal fantasy closet. With an extensive
variety of styles and sizes, this local shop has something
special for every gal, on every budget.
As one of my personal go to’s for the super special pieces
in my wardrobe, I was psyched on having the opportunity
to catch up with the store’s owner/curator Mika Lemm, to
get the down low on everything Young Janes.
AM: What inspired you to open a shop as rad as Young Janes
and how did you come up with the name?
Mika Lemm: I always knew I wanted to own a boutique
of my own, and I knew I had to sell Vintage in order to
fuel my addiction to thrifting. It was the one career that
combined all of my passions, and allowed me to be creative everyday. I knew that I wanted to create a space
that would be able to showcase my passion in the best
way possible. I want people to come into Young Janes
and be able to see the quality that vintage has to offer
and to not have to dig around through racks to find the
perfect piece. When my current space became available
I was really excited, as it is a wonderfully unique retail
space within Ottawa and perfectly suits my boutique’s
vintage vibe.
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Issue #02 2012
The name Young Janes doesn’t come from my name actually being Jane, as most people assume. It came from
playing around with combinations of words until the
right two just fit perfectly. Also, in Australia (where I’ve
travelled extensively), they call girls Janes.
AM: As a person who worships old things, I know how
much work can go into finding the perfect pieces for my
personal wardrobe… let alone a whole shop! Have you
always been a thrifting queen/vintage adorer? Do you ever
find it challenging to find enough high quality vintage to fill
your large shop space?
ML: From the time I could barely walk my mum would
take me to thrift stores. She is the one who taught me
everything I know about finding treasures. I seriously
don’t think I’ve ever not been in the mood to thrift, I
could do it 24/7. I am definitely picky and choosy in
everything I carry at Young Janes, I feel every piece
should be special in some way. I have actually been
known to describe the clothing at my store as my children, and that I am sending them off to good homes
with their new owners. There is nothing more exciting to
me than finding someone the perfect addition to their
wardrobe. When someone comes to Young Janes, and
finds something that makes them just light up with glee
I know that that is why I do what I do. So the answer to
your question is no, I’ve never had trouble finding beautiful pieces to fill up my store. There is always treasure
to be found if you look hard enough!
AM: How would you describe your personal style? What
inspires it?
ML: I would describe my style as eclectic, possibly soft
and feminine with an edge. I am definitely someone
who wakes up everyday with no idea what I might want
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Issue #02 2012
to wear. It revolves around what kind of mood I’m in,
and that can vary extensively from day to day. At the
moment I am loving all things maxi, the longer the better. I am constantly perusing fashion blogs for inspiration. It is insane how many lovely and creative people
there are out there, and we are blessed with the technology to get a glimpse at their lives and their closets! I
also get inspiration from movies and TV, and from fashionable customers who shop at Young Janes!
AM: If you could give some words of advice to all the Ottawa vintage-loving ladies and gents, what would they be?
ML: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard from customers: “I want to buy that dress, but I have nowhere
to wear it”. I can’t stress enough that life’s too short
to wait for the right event to wear something. If I love
an item of clothing, I will wear it any old day. You just
make it work. If you love it, wear it. If it makes you feel
good, wear it. I think you catch my drift. Fashion should
be fun! Don’t take it all too seriously. AM: Who are some of the coolest clients you’ve ever
come across?
ML: I’d have to say that the coolest customers I’ve ever
had were the band The Handsome Furs, and the singer
Basia Bulat. In both cases they bought clothing that I
hoped would make it onto a stage somewhere awesome!
Other than that I have cool customers coming in everyday. They are the coolest cats around.
To get your vintage fix, check out Young Janes at 223
Dalhousie St. in the Byward Market.
Shot on Location at Kichessippi Brewery
SLAM POETRY 101
Words and Photography by Massey Hoveyda
I
t was Physics Nobel prize winner Dennis Gabor who
said that “poetry is plucking at the heartstrings,
and making music with them”. And if his words are to
be believed, then Ottawa’s slam poetry scene is easily comparable to a cacophony of orchestrated hearts,
filling venues across the city with music woven from
words. Slam poetry is this tension between
cacophony and concordance.
University’s Architectural building, and the Capital Slam
group, who hold their slams at the Mercury Lounge in
the Byward Market. Both of these groups represented Ottawa at the annual Canadian Festival of Spoken
Word, which was held in Saskatchewan last year. An atmosphere where even the
most difficult concepts of human
pain and suffering are delivered
with eloquent fluidity.
The art of spoken word is the delivery of a
poem (or spitting of a poem) in front of an
audience often accompanied by eloquent
gestures or jarring movements that seem
to come directly from the poet’s heart.
The Ottawa slam poetry scene, although vibrant and diverse, consists of two main organizing series: the Urban
Legends, whose events are held in The Pit at Carleton
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Issue #02 2012
dition, without reservation and without apology. From
the callous description of a revolutionary upbringing,
to a lilting revelation on the concept of beauty, spoken
poetry opens a door to long awaited recognition. There
is an unspoken rule of acceptance when it comes to
spoken word—an understanding and intimacy coming
from an equality held up both by poet and audience,
creating an atmosphere where even the most difficult
concepts of human pain and suffering are delivered with
eloquent fluidity. Slam poet, JustJamaal, one of the organizers of the Urban Legends this year, said that although he is relatively
new to the scene compared to other poets in Ottawa,
he “quickly found a second home” within the poetry
community, as “it offered me the unprecedented opportunity to express a part of my being”. There is a certain
quality to this community where everyone is encouraged
to speak, to express, and to dissect, with the only condition that they maintain the honesty and rawness of the
realities they are trying to convey. With this one criteria fulfilled, the community welcomes you without hesitation into the folds of its verses and embraces you
with the comfort of its confessions, providing a sense of
home on the most intrinsic level. JustJamaal says that “this act of self-revelation shaped
my way of thinking. I began to understand the power of
art and of self-expression, and how important it is for
humans to have these opportunities to become comfortable with themselves by letting go of the inner turmoil
that we all keep locked inside”. It is important to note
that spoken word is not limited to the melancholy, but
rather anything necessary. Whether it’s a poem about
atrocities and human rights violations, or the pangs of
unrequited love, rants about lazy teachers, or awkward
encounters and rainy days, the beauty of this community and its inclusiveness is reflected not only in the
words but the diversity of poets and audiences. JustJamaal says that there aren’t many new faces at poetry
events or poetry competitions (known as slams), but
once someone is introduced to the concept, they’re often hooked.
A recent showcase held by Brandon Wint at Pressed on
Gladstone showcased two of Ottawa’s up and coming
spoken word artists: Ali Alikhani and OpenSecret. Their
show, accompanied by musical strings and by a captive
audience, represented a true undressing of souls—a
bearing of the heart and exploration of the human con-
The audience is composed of people from a variety of
backgrounds and lifestyles, with eager faces and open
hearts. There is also the snapping of fingers, which to
anyone new to the art of spoken word comes off as a
strange ritual but is a sacred method of showing appreciation to a particularly moving verse without interrupt-
ing the flow. The audience’s unwavering an immediate
support is demonstrated during the moments of silence
when a poet struggles to remember the words they committed to memory, and how that moment is quickly
filled with the encouragement of snapping fingers, reassuring the poet that they, the audience, believes in
them and will wait patiently until the words come flowing again.
There is a feel to this family of word lovers that is both
contagious and volatile, an interwoven mixture of styles
and personalities. From the upbeat urban collision of
Apollo the Child, to Ali Alikhani’s soulful other-worldly
intonation and resonance, and JustJamaal’s unapologetic challenge of societal norms—Ottawa’s poetry scene
will leave you breathlessly in love with strangers you
have just met, and the stories that somehow nestle in
your heart and become yours. Herd magazine
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Asma Inam
Herd magazine
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Drew Moseley - Seeker
Fran Cobham - Song of the Siren
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70
Ricky Levitsky III
Ricky Levitsky III
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72
Joey Arseneau - Graphite / Coloured Pencil
Talie Shalmon - One Girl
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Josh Hotz
Josh Hotz
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Drew Moseley - Fern Bison
Asma Inam - Boy Roland
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n. Persons who contribute to the cultivation of culture and/or
the development of creativity by coming together as a herd.
MEMBERS
wordsmiths: Amanda Spadafora, Ariana Molly, Christopher Owen Lett Tirrell (C.O.L.T.), Dahara Mnemosyne,
Daniela Holmes, Emma Godmere, Joshua Bernier-Taylor, Kelly Brisson, Matías Muñoz, Nick Wilson, Sarah
Sharp, Steph Bolduc, Stephanie Vicente, Tomas Abdul-Amal Pajdlhauser, Katy Watts, Matthew Ross William
Tirrell, Massey Hoveyda, Michael Brian Fields, Mallory Jones
shutter bugs: Andrew Rashotte, Andrew Szeto, Ariana Molly, Christopher Owen Lett Tirrell (C.O.L.T.), David
Forcier, Ivy Lovell, Jamie Kronick, Kelly Brisson, Pat Bolduc, Paul Galipeau, Pierre Richardson. Rat Wooltoque,
Katy Watts, Jess Deeks, Massey Hoveyda, Raheleh Saneie, Josh Hotz
featured creators: Aaron MacWilliam, Adam Saikaley, Asma Inam, Ian Roy, Joey Arseneau, Kelly Dixon, Pregnancy Scares, Ricardo Gonzalez, Ryan Smeeton, Seita Goto, Sarah Hyde, Steph Bolduc, Steve St. Pierre, Tomas
Abdul-Amal Pajdlhauser, Drew Moseley, Ross Proulx, Ricky Levitsky III, Talie Shalmon, Fran Cobham, Neil
Magadzia, Jeff Mckay, Rolf Klausener
Herd magazine
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For every moment
M A G P I E J E W E L L E R Y. C OM
RIDEAU • GLEBE • WESTBORO
THANK YOU