Remembering Ian Ferrier

In the old days, because of invitations from Ilona Martonfi, I did a lot of readings at the Yellow Door Coffee House, the Visual Arts Centre in Westmount, and the yearly "Lovers and Others" reading series, and so many times I read with Ian Ferrier. I think I read with Ian more often than with any other poet. Losing Ian (1954-2024) was a tragic loss for Canadian poetry, he was an immense talent. Often, at these readings, Ian would arrive on his motorcycle and bring his sound system. My test for poetry was always if what I read or heard made me want to write then it was good poetry, and Ian was one of the poets who inspired me to write. And I always took photographs of some of the poets at these readings, readings from 2011, 2012, 2015, and 2017; it all ended with the Covid lockdown. There were other readings, other events, but here are some photographs I took of Ian at these poetry readings. It's people like Ian Ferrier--original, idiosyncratic, highly talented, true to their inner being and vision--that inspire a poetry community.

At the Visual Arts Centre, Westmount, Quebec

At O'Reagan's Irish Pub

Poetry as place, history, soul

I wrote these notes before a reading at the Visual Arts Center in Westmount, QC, on 17 October 2017:

Poets aren't nomads, we all come from somewhere; and this "somewhere" is our psychic center, our home, the place we identify with, the place where we have a history. Personally, place is very important to me—I think it is essential in poetry—and I identify with Montreal, the home of my family since we moved here 180 years ago. Everywhere I go in this city I find something that expresses my soul, my inner being, the place of my ancestors and my family. That is why I say I am a Montreal poet, for nowhere else I have been is home as much as Montreal is home. So, not only is poetry an expression of location but it is also a place of history, of what happened in the past, of names, places, dates, events; that is to say it is a place of psyche, of the soul.

Lane behind Girouard Avenue.

Lane behind Girouard Avenue.

Lane behind Girouard Avenue.

Looking towards Girouard Park, one street west of Girouard.

A few years ago when they renovated 2226 Girouard, my grandmother's home from 1925 to 1965, they didn't put in a new door (as seen above) that leads to the basement. 

Looking up at the back porch of my grandmother's flat on Girouard.