Here is a view of Buckminster Fuller's geodesic dome--this was the American pavilion at Expo 67--seen here from the South Shore. In the eyes of many, Expo 67 was the last expression of Montreal's greatness; money is conservative and business avoids political unrest. With the popularity of Quebec separation from Canada, many head offices left the province. Expo was followed by the summer Olympics in 1976... Montreal was still on a roll, but native Montrealers remember the Olympics because of corruption, the Olympic stadium cost about $1B and it wasn't paid off until the early 2000s. Later that same year, on November 15, 1976, the Parti Quebecois was elected to power and with it economic decline began in earnest. The PQ represented different things to different people, to English-speaking Quebec it represented ethno-centricity and the oppression of the English-speaking community. However, most English-speaking Quebeckers accepted the new order of things in Quebec, they recognized that the status quo could not continue, that the French-majority should be masters in their own province. The English-speaking population that didn't accept how things had changed (approximately 200,000 people) left the province for life in Toronto, Calgary, and Vancouver. For the French-speaking majority it was a time for independence, guaranteeing the future of the French language and culture in Quebec, it was a time to celebrate.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Buckminister Fuller's geodesic dome at Expo 67
Here is a view of Buckminster Fuller's geodesic dome--this was the American pavilion at Expo 67--seen here from the South Shore. In the eyes of many, Expo 67 was the last expression of Montreal's greatness; money is conservative and business avoids political unrest. With the popularity of Quebec separation from Canada, many head offices left the province. Expo was followed by the summer Olympics in 1976... Montreal was still on a roll, but native Montrealers remember the Olympics because of corruption, the Olympic stadium cost about $1B and it wasn't paid off until the early 2000s. Later that same year, on November 15, 1976, the Parti Quebecois was elected to power and with it economic decline began in earnest. The PQ represented different things to different people, to English-speaking Quebec it represented ethno-centricity and the oppression of the English-speaking community. However, most English-speaking Quebeckers accepted the new order of things in Quebec, they recognized that the status quo could not continue, that the French-majority should be masters in their own province. The English-speaking population that didn't accept how things had changed (approximately 200,000 people) left the province for life in Toronto, Calgary, and Vancouver. For the French-speaking majority it was a time for independence, guaranteeing the future of the French language and culture in Quebec, it was a time to celebrate.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
The Morrissey Tavern in 1993
Friday, November 30, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Venus Sweets, decorations by Guido Nincheri (one)
These postcards, of original art by Guido Nincheri, were exhibited at Victoria Hall in Westmount, Quebec as part of an exhibition of Nincheri`s work.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
A Lost Poem by Artie Gold
(Click on the image to enlarge)
"The Doomsday Mice-Trap" was published in Anthol 4, winter 1975; edited by Bob Morrison
I am writing this in the Second Cup on Sherbrooke Street West, directly across the street from Artie Gold's old apartment. This is where CZ and I last met Artie, for coffee, one evening in January 2007 just a few weeks before his passing. I can look up and see Artie's apartment in The Westmore, at 7338 Sherbrooke Street West. Before this place was a Second Cup it was a restaurant where we all met, the Vehicule Poets, in April 2004, that was Artie, Claudia, Tom, Endre, and myself; why was John McA not there? I don't know. He tells me he wasn`t told of the meeting...
"The Doomsday Mice-Trap" is vintage Artie Gold, written in the early 1970s, the decade when Artie was most productive as a poet. It has his humour, his insight into life, the essence of Artie comes across in this poem. From what I've heard speaking with Patrick Hutchinson, just last week, we won't have any posthumous books by Artie, there is no cache of poems waiting to be published. Patrick organized Artie's papers that are now at Special Collections at McGill University. However, I know that Artie was still writing poetry in the 2000s, there is a beautiful poem for Luci King-Edwards, and possibly a few other poems somewhere. But Artie's poetry career basically ended in the late 1970s/early 1980s when he and Mary Brown went their separate ways. Then it's a spiral of welfare, drugs, and progressive illness (COPD not asthma!) until 2007 when the Montreal Chest Institute wanted Artie to take up full-time residence in the hospital, they felt he was no longer capable of taking care of himself. His long-term doctor there pleaded with him to stop using drugs and Artie's reply was that his life was such a hell the only happiness he had was using.
In the summer of 2010 I was living on the UBC campus, in Vancouver, and doing research at their Special Collections. A few years before I found a Charles Olson poem in a little mag, maybe it was the poem by Raymond Souster that was published (by mistake) under Olson`s name. Anyhow, I gave the magazine to our friend Ralph Maud, the main critic of Olson`s work. I also found a comment by Artie in NMFG and published it on this blog. Recently, with the passing of my friend Keitha MacIntosh, I`ve been going over old poetry magazines from Montreal and found Artie`s poem. I suggest literary critics check out old poetry magazines, you'll find a gold mine of lost and forgotten work. For instance, this poem by Artie that didn't make it into his Collected.
Recently, I've been reading a lot of Artie's work. In just a few short years he wrote some of the best poetry to come out of Canada (those years he said poetry wrecked his life...). I read much of this in the 1970s, at his place on Lorne Crescent, before it was published, and that Artie kept in those black spring bound binders that poets used. He was a genius and, I believe, one of our best Canadian poets. He was tormented by certain aspects of his life, and his response was humour, always humour. He has at least ten poems out of his body of work that are classics, they should be anthologized. Artie is one of those people who was born the person he would always be, he didn't work at becoming "Artie Gold", he was born Artie Gold, intelligent, gifted, talented, creative. He was born a poet, lived as a poet, and died a poet.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
"Sailboats at Kitsilano" by Nellie McClung
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Remembering Keitha MacIntosh
The last time I met Keitha MacIntosh was in the early-1990s, it was at a Greek restaurant that she often frequented and where she sat for hours drinking tea and correcting her students’ papers. This was the first time I’d seen Keitha for many years, from when I used to give poetry readings to her classes at Vanier College in the early 1980s. In early September 2012 I heard from Keitha’s daughter, Susan Hull, that Keitha had passed away.
There is a large correspondence between
Keitha and myself, archived in my literary papers at McGill University’s
Special Collections, at the McLennan Library. From 1975 to 1984, in all, 137
letters went back and forth between us. We wrote to each other about other
poets, Montreal Poems, and life in general. She wrote and published a poem
about me, “Stephen's Day”, that I still find deeply moving. She shared with me
her enthusiasm for writing and never doubted that I was the poet she believed I
was.
After she married, Keitha and her husband
ran a dairy farm in Dewittville, Quebec, but as Keitha became more independent
she wanted a place of her own. She was a writer for many years before we met and her creative
life began late at night when she was alone and writing. After the farm was sold she lived in a trailer until restoration of
her 200 year old log cabin was completed. I visited her at the trailer and
later at the log cabin. One evening, around 1981, I was invited over to meet Sharon
H. Nelson; Keitha went on to publish some of Sharon’s work. After Keitha’s Poems
of the Chateuguay Valley was published I reviewed her book in the
Huntingdon Gleaner thinking Keitha would be happy with this recognition
of her work; it was a mistake on my part as she was upset that her writing life
was revealed to her neighbours. There was a firm dividing line between her
writing and how much she wanted her rural community to know about her.
Keitha
had been a registered nurse before earning her B.A. and M.A. degrees; she was a
professor of English at Vanier College for twenty-two years. She was a writer
for many years before we met. She read widely and she was an excellent teacher.
She was a good and generous friend to many of us. She was always on the side of
the underdog, whether for women’s rights, or for Natives and French Canadians
who had been dispossessed by the newly arrived English, or English-speaking
Quebecers whose rights had been denied by the French. Keitha was also active in
promoting literacy and access to books. She co-founded the Little Green
Library, located in Huntingdon, in 1972.
In
the mid-1980s, Ray Filip, in one of his poetry columns published in Poetry
Canada Review, referred to Richard Sommer, Keitha MacIntosh, and myself as
the “invisible rural transcendentalists”, for all three of us now lived in the
country and had withdrawn from much of the poetry activity in Montreal that we
were involved in only a few years before. However, I continued writing and
publishing my work and gave poetry readings in Toronto and Vancouver, and later
again in Montreal. Carolyn Zonailo and I returned from the country to live in
Montreal in 1997. When I met Keitha, at that Greek restaurant mentioned above,
preparing classes and correcting student papers seemed to be taking up all of
her time, except for weekly visits to a local country and western restaurant
and bar where there was live music and dancing. She seemed happy enough, but
more physically fragile than ever. Her health declined to the point where she
had to take early retirement from teaching around 1995. Richard Sommer
continued writing and publishing from his home in the Eastern Townships; he
passed away in February of this year.
Keitha
and I have a Celtic ancestry, her family is from Scotland, mine from Ireland.
My family arrived in New Brunswick in 1837 and we’ve been in Quebec since the
early 1840s. My grandson, Edmund Morrissey, is the eighth generation of our
family to have been born in Canada. Keitha’s family has also been in Canada for
at least eight generations or more. After she retired she moved to Vancouver
where she lived for the next fifteen years; she was the matriarch and elder of
her family, living with her daughter, her grandson and his wife, and her great
granddaughter.
One
day when I was in Vancouver in the late 1990s I saw Keitha, from a distance,
walking on Broadway, but something held me back from greeting her. That was the
last time I saw her. Was it just by chance that a
month before Keitha passed away I wrote a long poem remembering her? I recounted
in the poem much of what she had told me about her life and I reflected on what
our friendship had meant to me. It is also forty years ago this month that
Keitha and I became friends, and what a privilege it is to have been friends
with Keitha! I believe that Keitha’s spirit came to me when I was writing that
long poem about her, she was preparing to leave this earthly dimension; it was
her way of saying, “Goodbye for now.” Yes, goodbye, old friend, and God bless
you.
by Keitha K. MacIntosh
I
am a new arrival
on this continent.
Six generations ago
they
came
the ancestors
Calvinist
Scots
with brimstone in their blood.
They
laboured well.
They
ploughed the fertile soil
and dug up sins
and
other aberrations
and kept them hidden
in
small closed rooms and tidy attics.
Their
calloused hands
sand deep
and
laid foundations
for
concrete forests
and
churches, gothic arched
with highland shepherds
leading
their flocks
to
everlasting servitude.
among
the apple trees
with lilac bushes
at
the door
Burdock Blood Bitters
on
the shelves
butter churns
made
of yellow pine
apple peelers candle molds yarn winders
and
ghosts
of
screaming child-birth
that
rich the soil.
In
Her Own Words:
In her author’s statement published in Poets’ Information Exchange Sampler (1976),
Keitha writes the following:
“Born in Lachine, Quebec, I was a closet
poet to begin with. My first published poem appeared in the Northern Messenger
when I was seven but I hid the magazine so my family wouldn’t know! My
Presbyterian ancestors frowned on the frivolity of poetry though any writing,
however mundane, that earned money
was acceptable. For the last fifteen years I have been publishing poems and
stories while earning my bread by helping to run a dairy farm and doing nursing
part-time. God grant me strength to continue to write about my people, so
lovable, so destructive, so brave, so often misguided. I’ve published in Ellipse, Other Voices, Quebec Histoire,
Anthol, Cross Country, Canadian Author and Bookman, among others. A
collection of poems, The Shattered Glass
and other fragments, is scheduled for 1976. Editor, Montreal Poems.”
Short Stories:
Keitha K. MacIntosh. The Crow Sits High
in the Lilac Tree (Kateri Press, Huntingdon, 1982). 37 pp.
Keitha K.
MacIntosh. Shattered Glass and other fragments (Sunken Forum Press,
Dewittville, QC, 1976). 48 pp.
Keitha K.
MacIntosh. Poems of the Chateuguay Valley (South Western Ontario Poetry, London, ON, 1981). 24 pp.
Keitha K. MacIntosh. Montreal Poets’ Information Exchange Sampler. Edited by Matie
Falworth. M.P.I.E., Montgreal, 1976.
Montreal Poems, spring/summer 1974, number one
Montreal Poems, autumn 1975 (with an Introduction by Louis Dudek), number two
[note: this issue was originally published in the spring of 1975; however, the
printing job was unacceptable and these copies were destroyed; the same content
was reprinted dated autumn 1975].
Montreal Poems, winter 1976, number three
Poesie de Montreal Poems, winter 1978, Women’s Edition
Montreal Poems, 1981, number five [only issue to have perfect binding; all previous issues were staple bound]
Friday, October 5, 2012
Montreal City Hall, mid-1920s
Sunday, September 30, 2012
James Wilson Morrice family at Mount Royal Cemetery, Montreal
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