Resonances (2018), sculpture by Mathieu Gaudet

Mathieu Gaudet's Resonances is located at Ecole Judith-Jasmin in the West End of Montreal. It is made of poured black concrete; the sculpture is a wave, it can be any type of wave; for instance,  "resonance" is defined as

. . . the phenomenon of increased amplitude that occurs when the frequency of a periodically applied force (or a Fourier component of it) is equal or close to a natural frequency of the system on which it acts.

But "resonances" also suggests something different, it is to "resonate", to identify with something, or

to have particular meaning or importance for someone : to affect or appeal to someone in a personal or emotional way. 

And one resonates with this sculpture, perhaps one thinks of a beach and waves approaching where one is sitting, or it might suggest a metaphysical perception of life and open the viewer to new ideas. 

Resonances works on different levels of meaning. As an object it is utilitarian, it is a partition separating the entrance to the new building from the larger green area of the older building to which it is attached. I think the sculpture gives the entrance a feeling of privacy and intimacy; the entrance to the new building is secluded, the ornamental grass giving it a feeling of solitude, of being in nature. It is a wave, showing how a new idea may begin with a single thought and then grow into something much larger and more profound. 

Another level of meaning is metaphysical, the sculpture is a long black object, black and in some ways forbidding, but also elegant. You have two elements at work here, water and earth, and they are often considered in opposition to each other. A wave is always changing and this wave changes as sunlight plays off of it. The shadow of the sculpture, black like the sculpture, is a second wave, and both are impermanent, temporal, subject to either the long term change of material deteriorating or to the short term way sunlight changes one's perception of something. In either case, change is always present, whether short or long term.

 

Poetry is the Soul's DNA

Poetry is the soul's DNA, the memory of the human race. Poetry, not prose, not history, not fiction or drama or short stories or religious texts, but poetry is the expression of the collective unconscious. This DNA is the container and memory of everything humanity has done or will do, the Akashic record of everything that has happened in the past and will happen in the future; it does not recognize divisions of time into past, present, and future. Poetry is the single collective entity, the body of work, the distinct expression of the soul's DNA. Each poem is a separate expression of some aspect of the soul, the archetypes, emotions, intellectual musings, shared by all people living, to be born, and those that have died. It is both an expression of the Anima Mundi, the spirit of the world, and a celebration of humanity. 

St. Stephen's Anglican Church in Lachine, Quebec

I used to visit Lachine, Quebec, fairly regularly. It's only fifteen minutes from where I live in Montreal but it always feels like I am on holiday when there. You can walk along the Lachine canal, visit different museums, eat at some terrific restaurants, go fishing at the lighthouse, walk along Lac St-Louis... on one of these walks I came across St. Stephen's Anglican Church. This is the oldest Anglican church on the Island of Montreal; founded in 1822, construction of the church was completed in 1831. The church is located at 25 12th Avenue in Lachine, behind the Couvent des Soeurs Ste-Anne, which I believe is now a college. I made this video in the spring of 2013.

The longevity of glass buildings

I like older buildings that are substantial and that are built to last, we still have many of these older buildings in Montreal. The new Science Hub on the Loyola Campus of Concordia University is a striking addition to the university, it is what students and faculty expect and want in a new building. There is no point in constructing an old fashioned brick and concrete building, it would be incongruous and inconsistent with a contemporary campus. It would also be prohibitive in terms of cost. So, my hesitancy regarding this new building is just my taste in architecture; however, I also question the future of the building in a post-pandemic world, I wonder if buildings like this will be needed. Furniture has been carried into the new science building, it's ready to be occupied, but I'm not sure if they'll have any students on-campus this year due to the pandemic. Everything is changing, not for the better but just changing. The Science Hub doesn't look like it was constructed to last; I suspect that in a hundred years, if this building is still standing, people will scratch their heads and say "what were they thinking?" But do we even want buildings to last? Or are buildings like Ikea furniture, they look good for a while, they're functional, but they're still just made of laminated particle board, future junk.  No one had the idea of built-in obsolescence when they were constructing our many older buildings in Montreal; these older buildings add much to the quality of life in this city, they give us a feeling of substance, workmanship, creativity, and our culture and history. This is not the case with the Science Hub building, it could be located in any large city, in Toronto or elsewhere. 

The Garden in early August

I never throw out any plants, I just begin a new area to garden, so I conserve what I have and increase it. I wanted a traditional cottage garden, a garden where my grandmother would feel at home if she could visit. I am not opposed to grass and lawns but it isn't at the top of my gardening priorities; last year I extended the perimeter of the garden and I plan to enlarge the garden as long as I have surplus plants or go out and buy more. I am now thinking of islands; for instance, where I have the bird bath which also has hostas and a hydrangea beside it. As for plants, free or a gift is always best for adding to the garden; I like an anecdote, the human element, to go with a new plant. A few years ago I found what might be hostas that I hadn't planted, a sumac appeared this year, and ground cover has migrated from a neighbour's yard. When I began this garden I decided to grow only perennial flowers, daisies, day lilies, irises, ornamental grass; I also have lilacs, raspberry canes, and roses left by the previous owner from twenty-five years ago. I have a few pots planted with annuals and I've had pots for many years; it's a good quick way to have a garden in places where otherwise there would be no garden. I like hanging baskets of flowers. I collect rain water and water and dead head flowers every day. Visiting gardens can be like looking at photos of someone's vacation, even I gave my mother's garden a more or less cursory visit, and she worked hard on that garden with plants that she had returned with from visiting relatives in Woodstock, ON; for instance, rhubarb from Ruth Laflare; now I wish I had some of her plants, they would mean a lot to me. This year has been exceptional, hot, rainy, and the garden has flourished. In the evening fire flies are everywhere, a few days ago the hummingbird moth appeared in the bee balm, honey bees in the cone flowers, big bumble bees and the occasional skunk passing through, and so on. And if you sit quietly there are birds in the bird bath, they have a great time splashing around, completely submerging themselves in water. When I open the gate I leave behind the noises of the street and I think to myself, this is like the Garden of Eden! 

The Garden in mid-July 2020

New Sculpture on Loyola Campus

The science hub, the new building on the Loyola Campus of Concordia University, includes a recently installed sculpture. I don't know the artist's name or what the sculpture is called (it hasn't been announced), but it is quite imposing and you get an idea of what it might mean when you approach it from a distance. It looks like a "rough beast", almost an invisible man not wrapped in gauze but in striations of aluminum. This is a formidable sculpture, as though an amorphous human body, one arm bent and protruding from the body making it look like it is slouching towards something; standing beside the sculpture it doesn't seem to be anything but a formless mass. I don't see any celebration of science in this sculpture assuming there should be considering it is located between two science buildings (literal me), it is more of a dystopian impression of the new soulless human being that has been manifesting for the last hundred years or so. The sculpture is hollow so you can step inside and looking up you see the blue sky, windows of the new building, and the endless and infinite universe over one's head. These shapes above one's head remind me of work done by Hans Arp, if I remember correctly. The sculpture is actually a very perceptive and accurate image of an aspect of our new world order, one that is both disturbing and disconcerting.

Now I remember what the sculpture reminds me of, it is the Golem from Jewish mythology; this seems appropriate considering the age in which we live. 

And now (09 October 2020) I know the artist's name, it is Marc-Antoine Cote. 

Walking to Meadowbrook Golf Course

I've deleted a rant and substituted the following more reasoned and watered down commentary: most of the trees on this stretch of Cote St. Luc Road have been cut down, this is the road that ends at Meadowbrook Golf Course. The town of Cote St. Luc is about as soulless a suburb as you can find so no wonder they've destroyed this last bit of country-like area; developers won't rest until they've built condos on every square inch of land. There were alternatives to cutting down trees in this area, the best would have been to just leave things as they were. I am not convinced by the signs warning people of falling trees, or if the branch of a tree did fall then does that warrant cutting down most of the trees in this area? Well, folks, we'll see if they plant a single tree for every tree they've cut down which is what they said was their plan.

Now compare the road as it was with my photographs of what it looks like now:

Here is Google Street View over a twelve year period, 2007 to 2019: https://www.google.com/maps/@45.4564534,-73.6684001,3a,75y,208.22h,94.22t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sY1druHKghkiV9eiUA42kKQ!2e0!5s20070901T000000!7i3328!8i1664

Here is the road today:

Crows in our backyard