Category Archives: Visual Art

Henri Venne : Somewhere in Between at Art Mûr

Howdy!

Back in 2004 I saw a show by Henri Venne at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, I wasn’t impressed. I have a vague memory of large blue paintings of the sky, or something similar. Filed him away as a decent Quebecois artists whose work I wasn’t particularly fond of, kind of like Pierre Lalonde or Boom Desjardins. Someone kind of faceless in the crowd, who is required in order to have a crowd.

I don’t think I particularly noticed when he got a show at the Musee d’art de Joliette (and shouldn’t an artist with a career that’s going places first have a show in Joliette and then in Montreal? And not the other way around?) nor was I expecting to see his work when I went to Art Mûr – I had trucked up there ostensibly to see something else, more on that later. Anyhows, I was quite impressed.

One of the sensations I kind of remember from his show in 2004 was some kind of meditative spin on things, him trying to paint (I think they were paintings) the space in between dozing off and a full sleep. That kind of trance you can end up in if you repeat the same word, gesture or action over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over (ain’t copy/paste grand?!). As far as I can tell there are lots of people out there who believe that those trances are good. I’m not one of them, which is why I probably lumped him in the same space as Boom Desjardins.

This time however I was very impressed at the shininess of his current work. Where the work of his in my memory was kind of flat with a subtle texture (again, I think) from the brush. Which kind of aided to at least understand the Zen-like sensations I felt I was supposed to feel. These photographs are shiny to the point where if they were laid on the floor, you could almost dive right in. All of them are photographs roughly two feet by three feet that are mounted underneath a very thick piece of plexiglass.

Henri Venne, You Should Have Seen What I’ve Seen (detail) 2012
Henri Venne, You Should Have Seen What I’ve Seen (detail) 2012

I accidentally forgot my measuring tape in my other pants when I visited Art Mûr so I can’t tell you if it’s ¼” or ½” or something even thicker. But great gosh-a’mighty that plexiglass made them shiny as all get go. Now I kind of have this hate/hate relationship with shiny contemporary art. I tend to look at it as a extremely facile and simplistic method to make otherwise unremarkable art extremely sellable. Normally it’s done with multiple layers of varnish which requires some (not much) skill – as an aside it’s because of the varnishing that here in Quebec we call an art opening a Vernissage. Back in the good old days, once a painter finished some paintings for a an exhibition, he’d invite his friends over to help him varnish them so that they would be suitable for display. Since varnishing a painting is a fairly tedious job, he’d (back in the good old days 99% of your professional artists were men) have to bribe them with bottles of wine to keep them happy. As a consequence, these varnishing parties could get quite boisterous, and it was only a matter of time before a vernissage became synonymous with the opening of an exhibit. But I digress…

Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view
Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view

M. Venne’s work in this show is eight nearly monochromatic, nearly featureless, photographs (there are only seven pieces of art, because one of the pieces, I’ll Keep You There… So Long is a diptych). As simple as rain on a window, the most prevalent feature of these photographs is the color. They are for the most part gradients of primary color (gradiented primary color? Primary color gradients?) – there is one that is orange – and look pretty much like what I would imagine the world looks like if you were severely myopic.

Henri Venne, I’ll Keep You There… So Long (diptych), digital print mounted under plexiglass, 67cm x 183cm, 2012
Henri Venne, I’ll Keep You There… So Long (diptych), digital print mounted under plexiglass, 67cm x 183cm, 2012

Extremely simple in concept and form, it’s the sort of thing which makes me gnash my teeth. Instead of using new and improved tools to make new and improved art. M. Venne uses new and improved tools (in this case a fancy-ass digital camera, and fancy-ass digital printer, and a fancy-ass laminator) to make the same old, same old. While I probably should applaud him for being consistent with his art, I can’t help but feel a little bit cheated, because the picture itself is meaningless. Without a title and the title of the show itself all they are are shiny contemporary versions of medium sized colorfields. They aren’t breaking any new ground nor they aren’t earth-shattering, and while all art doesn’t have to be ground-breaking or earth-shattering, when you are using current technologies it helps, a lot. Because if your art isn’t ground-breaking and earth-shattering then it runs the risk of being mundane. Being mundane isn’t a good thing.

Henri Venne, Tomorrow Started, 85cm x 102cm, digital print mounted under plexiglass
Henri Venne, Tomorrow Started, 85cm x 102cm, digital print mounted under plexiglass

It’s the kind of work that I am used to seeing from artists at Galerie de Bellefeuille or Simon Blais. While I am not against the commercialization of art, there are certain times when it hits me that something “art-like” is much closer to being a commodity, and this is one of those times, right down to the fact that he does not bother to mention to size of the print run for each of the pictures.

Despite the bafflegab and gobbledy-gook in Art Mûr’s magazine about pensiveness, and reflection, to me M. Venne’s work is all about sellability. There are some times when shopping can cause a sensation of bliss, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. So I really shouldn’t be raining on anyone’s parade. Especially, since I think that M. Venne’s work is incredibly sellable. They’re priced appropriately, in that region that will make the buyer instantaneously recognize that the work is serious, while at the same time not being outrageous. Or if you prefer, about 57¢/cm2 a pop or $3.59/in2. (66¢/cm2 with taxes. If you’re buying Quebecois art, you can save some serious change by having it shipped either out of province or out of the country).

Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view
Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view

At that price, don’t forget that it probably would help immensely to bring both a swatch from your couch and a paint chip from your wall color so as to make sure that they match the picture.

Henri Venne: Somewhere in Between was exhibited at Art Mûr from April 26 until June 16, 2012

Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin

Howdy!

I don’t know what it is, but Charles Daudelin isn’t getting much respect these days. Beyond the fiasco that is Square Viger, there’s also Allégrocube. Completed in 1973 as part of the 1% art integration law for the building of the Palais de Justice two sides initially moved on hinges, opening and closing like a clam-shell. But they have been busted for at least a dozen years, if not more. It’s made of something called Muntz Metal which is like brass and made of 60% copper, 40% zinc with a trace of iron.

Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges

Initially, when a friend told me that it was supposed to move, I thought that they were pulling my leg. But nope, the city just let it break and then decided not to fix it.

Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Plaque for Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Plaque for Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin

Agora and Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

Howdy!

It seems that Charles Daudelin isn’t getting much respect these days. He died about a decade ago and it seems that everywhere I turn there’s another one of his works which is being being neglected. Last month I was down at Square Viger and took some pictures of his Agora and Mastodo, both of which have been consigned to junkies and other marginal members of society.

Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

There were articles in 2010 and earlier this year talking about how Agora is going to hell in a handbasket and Heritage Montreal is also concerned. I’m not certain what to think.

Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End

Howdy!

I freaking hate it, when I ask if I can take pictures at an exhibit, and some person who doesn’t know any better starts spouting about copyright and uses that as the excuse why they won’t let me take a snapshot. Listen people, the Canadian copyright act is right here. In it there’s a paragraph, number 29 to be exact, that talks about Fair Dealing. If I am writing a review of your show, I can use pictures that I took to illustrate the article and not impinge, infringe or otherwise step on your intellectual property. So folks, how about this? Next time I show up and ask to take pictures, understand I am being courteous and polite and be courteous and polite in return and say, “yes.”

I bring this up, because last weekend, I went to Galerie Mile End, and asked to take pictures. The woman who was there, didn’t know copyright from a hole in the wall, but insisted that was the reason why I couldn’t take pictures. She then proceeded to watch me for five minutes (there was no one else in the gallery except the two of us) until I realized that the only reason she was watching me was that I had not put my camera away (like I’m going to surreptitiously snap a picture and copy someone’s art and call it my own! Gimme a break!). So I put away the camera, she went back to making art, but then to make matters worse insisted on coming out once every five minutes for the next 15 minutes with some supposedly helpful suggestion (“the artists’ have their business cards over here, if you take them, you can call them and ask them if it is ok to take pictures,” “the artist who did these pieces is going to be here at 2:30, if you wait you can ask her if it is ok to take pictures of her work,” “if there was any of my work in the show, I’d let you take pictures of it”).

Suffice it to say, I was not in a good mood, and slowly got more and more annoyed at her as time progressed. Instead of snapping and throwing or shouting something. I gripped my pen and clipboard even tighter still, took a couple of deep breaths and did my best not to let my foul mood cloud my judgement or opinion of the work on the walls – but man, oh, man was it tough. All the way home I was contemplating some kind of savage ripost or 10,000 word screed. Or just spiking the whole darn thing. But when I got home, I put on Brahm’s Symphony #1, took a nap, and when I woke up, everything was much better. Thanks Johannes.

OK, now that I got that off my chest, some background. Galerie Mile End is an offshoot of the Park Avenue YMCA. It’s a kind of community centre/art studios/gallery/collective type of thing. You know, one of those places where people with day jobs that aren’t quite as fulfilling as they hoped, go after work to do creative things. Paint, Sculpt, Draw, etc. As a consequence a small supportive community arises out of and around them, and the people making the art don’t get driven crazy by their jobs/commute/relationships/kids, etc. Just in case yo9u thought I was being 100% literal, sorry, I over simplified things – it obviously isn’t that easy in real life, but you get the point. I’d like to say that I have followed the members of Galerie Mile End closely for the past 14 years and as a consequence can say with authority, that none of their members have ever gone on to make the jump from day job to full-time artist. But I haven’t, so I can’t and that’s just the last little bit of frustration leaking out of me, pay it never no mind. Things start looking up from here on it, I promise.

The reason I was interested in going to see the exhibit was because En Masse has kind of been taking over the city. It seems that everywhere I look, there is some very large black and white cartoon-like mural made by something like 70 dozen different local artists. It seems to me that Black and White is the new black – or maybe the new Friday, or something like that. Anyhows, I was curious to see if En Masse had had any influence on the fine folk at Galerie Mile End. In short no. While the exhibit at Galerie Mile End was a group show, it was not collaborative in the least. While there was something approaching thematic unity based on the title, I did see some greens, and a couple of other colors that were not black or white – and there was quite a lot of gray as well, which technically I figure is alright, but if I wanted to get all nit-picky about it, I could. But I think I have gotten rid of all the frustration I had over the weekend (I actually listened to the Brahms #1, something like four times…) so we’ll let it slide.

There were about three dozen different artists involved. Some of them showing multiple pieces (alright), some of them showing multiple pieces in very different media (not so hot). Anytime I look at any type of collection of art (or for that matter a collection of anything else) I try to make some sense out of it by looking for connections. When I am introduced to an artists’ work, it is extremely difficult to be able to grasp what they do, how they think, why they create or the thoughts behind their creations if their output goes from one extreme to another – especially with artists that I am unfamiliar with. It’s all fine and dandy for Picasso to sculpt, paint, and draw, he’s been dead for almost 40 years and his art is fairly well known in the Western world. He is not trying to impress anyone with his art anymore. However, some artist who isn’t quite as well known as Mr. Picasso ends up confusing the heck out of me if the first time I see some of their work there’s an abstract sculpture, a painting of some flowers and a cliched photograph with some kind of motivational text on it. I’m left wondering if the artist thinks that these particular objects are in fact their best work, or if in fact they think that absolutely everything they make is worthy of being exhibited? While I realize that people have many different facets to their personalities, trying to group the three pieces together into on e larger understanding of the motivation of the artist is not exactly easy. From where I sit, it would be better to have a show of just abstract sculptures, then another show of flower paintings a third of cliched motivational photography and only then have a show combining all three media. But that’s my personal preference, your may be different.

So as I can get it out of the way, and not have to try to remember to do it, these are the names of the artists participating in Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End: Anne Salomon, Bouthaina Bouzid, Celine Landry, Claude Lépine, Claudette Seguin-Beaulieu, Emily Wai Yee Leong, Esther Kanfi, Gaby Orbach, Henri Enfant, Josée Laurion, Laila Maestari, Louise Rousseau, Marcia Campillo, Michelle Bonneville, Monique Corbeil, Myles Johnston, Olga Maksimova, Paulette Dufresne, Pierre Foret, Rachel Dionne, Sandra Glenns, Thibauld Lelievre, and yves vaillancourt. By my count I think I liked four pieces (or at least that’s how many I starred in my notes). Not a good percentage in any way shape of form.

However (at some point I am going to have to either drop the use of the word “however” altogether, or start using it even more) that is not to say that the other works were not good, just that they weren’t up my alley. Using a different method of scoring, I would say that that about 90% of the works exhibited were technically good, proficient. That the artist making the work knew how to use their tools properly. That’s a much better percentage, don’t you think? But either way an exhibit is only as good as the worst piece in the show. And no matter how you cut it, there was some stuff in the exhibit that was weak both on a technical level and personally on an aesthetic level. If you’re going to use something as vague as “Black and White” as a unifying theme the quality of the art by definition needs to be of the highest caliber. I don’t know who was responsible for picking and choosing the art, but somehow I get the distinct impression that there was some kind of call made, and anyone and everyone who responded (including the people with art that included green) was accepted.

The show was hung, not so much with an eye to balancing the works. Nor did it seem to me as being hung in order to create (the dreaded) dialogue between pieces. The way that I saw it, the show was hung in an attempt to maximize the number of pieces that could be shown while for the most part trying to keep everything at eye level. As a consequence I either would hate to see the work that wasn’t accepted or I strongly suspect nothing was turned down.

Initially, in my outline this was where I was going to write about “The Good Stuff.” But now, I realize that really wouldn’t serve any purpose other than to piss people off – and given that I was pissed off over the weekend, passing it on doesn’t strike me as being particularly useful. As I said there are good pieces in the show, and there are even pieces in the show that I quite like, a lot. But the instant I make that division, someone is not going to be happy. Unfortunately, I really didn’t like the show itself. By now, that should be obvious. To me it was kind of like going to a restaurant where there was one dish that was amazing and wonderful, the rest of the meal was acceptable but the service was horrendous. An art exhibition is more than just slapping some art on the walls and serving some cheap wine at an opening. There needs to be something holding it together. There needs to be some focus and while there doesn’t need to be some theory behind it, it certainly doesn’t hurt. Then finally there should always be some threshold of what is acceptable to exhibit. It’s all fine and dandy to be polite and diplomatic in person and with people. Art (for the most part) is made up of inanimate objects that do not have feelings that would be hurt if they weren’t exhibited. Someone needs to take charge and draw that line when organizing an exhibition. That and let me take some pictures as well.

Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End, 5345 Park Ave. until June 17, 2012.

Roméo Savoie, Éventail (J) – stolen art alert

Howdy!

Roméo Savoie, Eventail (J) - image courtesy Sûreté du Québec
Roméo Savoie, Eventail (J) - image courtesy Sûreté du Québec

Unfortunately I have no details as to when it was stolen, where in Quebec it was stolen (if in fact it was stolen in Quebec), who it was stolen from or how it was stolen, or how much it is worth. The Sûreté du Québec has teamed up with the RCMP (and possibly the Montreal Police department as well) to have an art crimes unit. Every now and again they send out an email which lists (sometimes with pictures, sometimes without) of art that has been stolen. This was what was in the most recent one which was sent out last week.

It’s kind of nice, while at the same time being kind of frustrating. Not having access to all the information possible kind of makes for less than half a story. If you’d like to get on their mailing list and find out about stolen Quebecois art (although in this case it appears to be stolen Acadian art, as Roméo Savoie is Acadian) then send an email to Art.Alert@surete.qc.ca and ask.

I every now and again scan Craigslist and Kijiji, but haven’t come across anything yet. I presume that all the local auction houses check their lots against some list, but as I am typing that, I suddenly am not as confident. Empire, Iegor and La Maison des Encans de Montréal are the three major places to buy art in Montreal at auction.

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

Howdy!

[Edit, July 31, 2012: I received an email from M. Lasserre, and have added it to the article, I have also corrected the line I wrote with regards to the ownership of Coriolis.]

This is the image I’ve always seen of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre.

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre, image courtesy maskulllasserre.com

And I always thought that it was pretty gosh darn cool, somehow M. Lasserre had squished an upright piano with a rock. So when I had a chance to go see it at L’espace musée Québecor I figured what the hey. Especially since L’espace musée Québecor is one of the few places in town where you can go see art on a Monday.

Well color me very disappointed. Turns out it’s not a piano at all. Just a bunch of steel made to look like an upright piano and then left outside to rust.

Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

It’s almost like discovering that the Emperor has no clothes. Then on top of that I have no idea how M. Lasserre think that Gaspard-Gustave Coriolis has anything to do with what happened to his faux-piano. He dropped the rock from 40 feet. Which is way too small of a distance with way too heavy an object for the earth’s rotational forces to have any appreciable effect on the resulting collision. In fact if you look at this picture taken by Mirana Zuger of the moments just before impact

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com

You can see how the place where M. Lasserre wants the impact to happen and where it in fact does happen are one and the same. If he were taking any Coriolic forces into account his dropping of the rock would have been much more like a billiards shot. Not just a straight drop from 40 feet. If he decides to make something similar (after all his gallery was successful in getting Québecor someone to buy it, maybe he should make another) he should call the next one Galilei (or perhaps Kepler, Descartes or Newton) since they were all pretty instrumental (pun intended) in describing the various physical forces on a falling rock. Then finally I’d also suggest he use a tuba, sousaphone, harp or kazoo as he instrument to crush as they all are made out of metal (or in the case of the harp, can be made out of metal).

That all being said, it is momentarily interesting in a sort of I’m-hungry-let’s-go-for-lunch-no-I-don’t-care-where-I-just-want-a-sandwich kind of way.

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

RE: I’m-hungry-let’s-go-for-lunch-no-I-don’t-care-where-I-just-want-a-sandwich
maskull lasserre Sun, Jul 29, 2012 at 9:40 PM
To: zeke@zeke.com

Dear Chris,

I must admit that I am seldom moved to respond to the types of postings that appear on your blog, but when someone teeters, publicly, so perilously between being misinformed and ignorant, I can’t help but try to right the balance in the public interest, and in so doing give you the benefit of the doubt.
I came upon your piece about Coriolis when I was forwarded your post on Vrtlar, at the McClure Gallery, earlier this summer. I will not be as exhaustive in my redaction (and I apologize for the “fancy-ass” words, but you can look them up here and here) as you were of Mr. Campbell’s text – although you should really have a look to see that he was correct in his reference to the Divine Horsemen: The Voodoo Gods of Haiti, Chelsea House / Delta, 1970. I will, however, suggest the following links to, albeit after the fact, inform you that:
1) Coriolis is in a private collection, and does not belong to Quebecor,
2) the Coriolis effect does register on every falling mass, though measurable more easily on a planetary scale, and
3) that poetic or artistic license, visual literacy – and, while we’re at it, basic literacy – never mind “semiotic” and “performative“, are all terms with which a self professed “culture guy” should be comfortable.
Although these posts are probably more embarrassing to their author than they are to the people they exploit for their petty picking of criticism’s low-hanging fruit and the disingenuous slights that border on adolescent slander, maybe you should stick to writing about sandwiches.
Sincerely,
Maskull Lasserre

The comments about the film, and vocabulary, are in reference to this review I wrote about a month afterwards.

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