January 11, 2012

Those Middle Aged [now they were really onto something]

so we’re in our quarter life and we’re done castigating our parents’ generation.  that is like, so 2009 [along with anything 8-bit].  passe.  yesterday’s jam is today’s jam.  shacking up with a middle-aged man has, oddly enough, expanded my already rather wide musical musings.  here’s a list of musicians and tracks that i have somehow jumped the shark, value-wise.


let’s set one thing straight.  if we’re talking about giving value where value is due – here’s one example of a band who has been grossly over-valued.  after sifting through their vast collection of repetitious albums, there is no one single stand out track, not a single solid compilation.  enough of the beatles.  they are neither cute nor talented, and most definitely not ‘ground-breaking’.  if you start your career in a swath of screaming teenage females, you don’t really get to play the unconventional card.  oh you have songs about drugs and the devil?  WOW.  rewind 20, 30 years and listen to robert johnson.  thanks.  now go and acquire your own taste in music and stop rehashing the same tripe over and over.  thanks.

2] Neil Young

now that we’ve set the record straight, we’re off with The Original Wild Man.

i’m aware that mr young dislikes the sharing of his music without recompense, but he said so himself :: ROCK AND ROLL WILL NEVER DIE.  while we’re on the topic of compensation, we might as well bring up Farm Aid [as a newly enrolled devotee of the homesteaders unlimited guild [?]].  it’s nice to know that there’s a fellow canadian who not only understands but supports my desire for ducks, my goat lust, my bee envy.
the role of the storyteller has been greatly perpetuated by neil young’s gift for song crafting.  growing up, i had always love love loved ‘cortez the killer’ [liberal artist and history buff shining through].  not to harp on the original, but built to spill’s cover and 20-minute guitar solo has really taken it to ‘the next level’.  listening to him on the local rock station – CHOM 97.7 – he was one of the first of a line of ‘oh, adults like that kind of music so i guess i should too’, without ever having really paid any real attention to them.

3] Dire Straits

in a similar vein of #2, i had only ever known dire straits for their big hits – money for nothing, sultans of swing – without exploring their technical and storytelling mastery.  scores of generations of bards are bowing.  let’s go down to the waterline.

4] Russian Classical and Modernist [Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky, Stravinsky…]


when i hear people say ‘i don’t like opera’, they are making a statement that is not unlike saying ‘i don’t like pop music’.  it’s a rather broad statement that comes from being narrow-minded.  operatic productions cannot, and should not, be lumped into one group, as styles and artists vary greatly from one artistic movement to another.  i’ve gone out on a limb and put sergei and igor together with pyotr and modest because on the whole, i’ve come to prefer russian composers over, say, spanish or italian.  perhaps it’s the structure, perhaps it’s the chill of perseverance.  lately i’ve been on a bit of a baroque kick, but the flow and jarring of history and story always brings me back to russia.  back to the stigma of opera, it’s popularity during the height of its composition as a form of entertainment is the modern equivalent to going to the bell centre to watch madonna shake her tits on stage.  it would make as much sense but move you just as deeply to experience it IRL, even if the viewer were absolutely clueless as to what the singers were trying to convey.  i’m not saying ‘like opera’.  just try and find the kind of pop music you like.

just don’t sell out and try to convince me the beatles were the greatest band ever.

Tags: ,
December 2, 2011

See saw a show by the shore

stay wild now


June 26, 2011

Bog People, Bog People

a rather tragic amount of time has passed since my last real entry – mostly because i was incredibly uninspired, tired of school, and just tired in general.  but as i was sitting on the ‘gin couch’ watching josie and the pussycats yesterday, i felt the urge to reach out and pick mbls again.

i’ve finally felt some redundant relevance here in the bog [since the xx post i have graduated university, written and published 4 zines, collaborated on 2 more, joined a yarnbombing collective and proceeded to move out of montreal! phew!], this relevance due mostly to my diabolically theological leanings and intrinsically synchretic lifestyle.

the creative process is a ficklefuck of a pickle, but i’ve finally reached a point where i can map out my methods on a solar and lunar calendar.  those who know me know what i’m talking about when i say ‘holy shit sponge mode’.  the most recent sponge has been combining my many sources of herbal, planetary, and colour correspondences into one mostly gender and intention neutral volume.  FUN !  but i love my lore and superstitions and symbols and they deserve to be all together.

this is straying widely from my original intention, but my notes are pretty scattered tbh especially since i am now listening to traditional appalachian music so i’m never really ~here~, i have always been and always will be a bizarre oddity smattering the fringe theories of life, the universe and everything and like to think i have a slight grasp on the nature of pop culture and the relationships held in this circle.

for most of modernity’s mythologies now take place in light boxes which make one believe one is socializing while physically remaining in solitude.  there’s a story about a person, taking the role of the ‘hero’, who attempts to play the role of the outsider.  gains status of the inner circle, becomes disillusioned, and flees, or rather reverts to their former state.  one is either in or out.  happy mediums don’t exist in entertainment, but somehow the weirdo will prevail in all this.  the weirdo wins in cinematic experience, but something is lost in translation. 

our lives are not walking commercials no matter how often we might be told this.  while many creative people do have to market themselves as a brand in order to reach their own level of success [infinite variable], it is considered ‘dirty’ because art must be noble and perfect and float about the material world while offering the world material objects.  i am stuck on this point.  i have become more sensitive and aware to the placement and role of advertisements now that i watch most of my beloved reality tv on the computer, where i can close any popups and not have my daisy of love interrupted by 3 minutes of wonkwonkwonk for every 5 minutes of showtime.  these things are important to me – the changing  role of hero worship dependent on progressive technologies should not i repeat not be spoiled.  i will be a better person by observing psychologically behaviour in realtime, not by spending $10 on the most technologically advanced oral health system.

so why is it so effective?  teenagers are surely not as empty and vapid as Big Money wants them to be.  they are the last bastion of rebellion.  if i can connect with a group of 13 year old boys when i’m ‘bombing, and they can see the value in my work [as valueless as it really is, these kinds of groups are my target audience] then i know i have succeeded in someway.  there’s no subliminal messaging, there’s no fooling these monsters.  we’ve lived every minute of our lives having been forced perfect life images upon us and yet no one lives this way.  there’s a realization that no one knows what they’re doing AND ITS OKAY. 

what’s not ok is having a place of constant one way dialogue.  when defacing advertisements in public places, the defense is always for the ad.  here we have a culture where pieces of paper and plastic have more rights and are valued more than the citizens who habit it! 

so.  what do we do?  these bogs aren’t big enough for us all.  the conversation is old, but there’s no resolution readily available, other than ‘know thyself’.  stop victimizing yourself and take a risk on a homemade venture.  i’ll pick up the ‘like art, god is a verb’ some other time.  how do i still miss america after all this?

June 25, 2011



March 16, 2011


[[from wiki]]


the distress or impairment caused by an actual or anticipated separation from the specific home environment or attachment objects


a person who moves from one place to another rather than settling permanently in one location.

March 8, 2011

from the archives – NOMADE

pulled straight from the vault.

originally written in 2008, this review of Nathalie Tremblay’s expo was published in part 4 of the fibre quarterly’s year in textiles.  i had no idea back then that i would be so interested in nomadic cultures but look!  foreshadowing?



Nomade’s Land

by Heather ——n


Nomad : noun

1 a member of a people continually moving to find fresh pasture for its animals and having no permanent home.

2 a wanderer.


Upon entering the Canadian Guild of Crafts, I was absolutely overwhelmed at the amount of pieces that are held in such a small showing space.  The hand is visible (yet physically absent) in all the works, be they of ceramics, glass, wood, metal, or fibre based tapestries or baskets.  And in my own art viewing tradition, I began at the back of the gallery and worked my way to the front, trying to grasp my own ideas from each piece before reading the artist’s statement.

Keeping only the word ‘nomad’ or ‘nomade’ in mind, there exists a unifying theme throughout each piece, both stylistically and conceptually.  With Amériques Sineuses I (2008), literal geographical references are made with the silkscreening of the conjoined American continents on shibori dyed wool fibres and rayon fabric.  The fact that the rich red-violet wool is hand felted in between pieces of rayon fabric, a viscose substance that is neither natural nor synthetic but ‘semi-synthetic’, marks the beginning of the body existing and shifting through any given space.

Est (2008) particularly caught my attention as it utilized the same honeycomb-like motif from Amériques (also used in Châle (2008)), only this time was repeatedly burned out onto dyed red rayon and silk.  At first Est appears to be printed uniformly on otherwise unaltered fabric, which scaled at 120 cm x 300 cm, just brushes the gallery floor.  Closer inspection reveals subtle variations in the devoré process, and keeping the geographic or nomadic theme in mind, the bottom third may appear as an imaginary chain of islands, while the top stretches towards a perfect printing process.

Vêtement 1, Vêtement 3 (2008) and Bagues (2008) were collaborative projects, enlisting the help of others in the assemblage of garments and woodwork and expressed the functional aspect of the nomadic lifestyle.  How do nomads live?  What do they do?  What do they look like?  The mark of the hand is so apparent in the weaving, the felting, and the stitching – no nomad would carry a machine with them, and the amount of rings showed implied the need for sustainment through an almost obsolete system of bartering and trade and a product of lives spent in constant motion – does it end?

Jali Blanc (2006), though referencing ornamental architecture, also references the body in geographical space.  Each cotton strip is loosely woven into a circular motif similar to the honeycomb noted previously.  The largest piece of the show (250 cm x 100 cm) marked the end of my viewing process, or the shows beginning.  The white felted pattern marks a separation from the other brightly coloured pieces, and seems to spiral out into infinity – it is only the right, or easternly most edge that is screened with iridescent silver remarking just that – the edge.

A graduate of Collège de Vieux Montréal in Textile Design and Printing, Nathalie Tremblay’s practice ties the body with the earth in using traditional techniques to create fibre murals and wearable art.  She has participated in numerous shows throughout Québec and France, including last years Mots Croisés / Palabras Cruzadas at the Centre for Contemporary Textiles in Montréal.


Nathalie Tremblay
October 30th to November 29th 2008

Guilde Canadienne des Métiers d’Art
Canadian Guild of Crafts
1460 rue Sherbrooke O, suite B
Montréal, QC H3G 1K4

March 4, 2011

smiles all around

we’ve made it.

through february.

[an excerpt from elisabeth belliveau‘s wonderful book, ‘the great hopeful someday’]

miss belliveau has been at the forefront of the great inspirators of the ilhu industries ever since i picked up this book some years ago. some people turn to the bible or to that girl who write the harry potters [what’s her name?  doesn’t matter] for spiritual guidance and everything that is down and needing a great uplifting – well, i’ve been using TGHS as this type of guide ever since i laid my filthy paws all over it. [no seriously the once immaculate white cover shows the marked wear of a graphite abuser].

and recently a dear _r gave me her then newest book ‘don’t get lonely don’t get lost’ for x-mass and i just about wet myself.

don't get lonely don't get lost

i am constantly haunted by her writing – the story of being mugged in london has stayed with me ever since the night i cracked it open.


you get the idea.  i essentially covet e’s work and often find myself melding life scenes together in her line drawing style.


i am so so pleased to see that she will be showing her work at MONASTIRAKI [get there!]

opening tonight!

oh! can you just ~feel~ my excitement oozing out of your screen??

and if anyone has $500 kicking around, my love is once again officially for sale.

February 28, 2011

i could tell you about the river or we could just get in




a text-based group show presented by art matters and les territoires

anxious about tomorrow’s installation, putting the finishing touches on my HIVE MIND piece.  i’ll also be showing my massive crocheted panel and TO THE FUCKING BONE.


opening is thursday!  be there!

Les Territoires
Belgo, suite 527
372 Sainte-Catherine street West
Montreal (Quebec)

February 26, 2011

ode to street hassle

‘like post-apocalyptic ash falling softly from the night sky’

bless you, olly.  bless you, lou reed.




February 23, 2011

Beauty #0

father pentacles

son pentacles

mother pentacles

10 cups


it all comes down to the strange fact that i am 2 days behind and 1 day ahead of myself.