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I find these utterly charming…







Howdy!
I find these utterly charming…







Howdy!
I’ve been a big fan of Earl Bronsteen’s since August of 2005 when I first discovered his first art book, How to be a Famous Contemporary Artist. If you haven’t already you should go buy it now.
Then in 2009, I interviewed him with Sabrina Santucci and Liz Pieries about his second book, “Contemporary Art Appreciation 101:
How to Understand What’s Contemporary Art and What’s Snot / Everything You Always Wanted to Ask About Contemporary Art But Were Afraid to Know”
Well now he’s back with a third book. “The Adventures Of A Free Lunch Junkie.” For a variety of reasons I’m late to the party with this review. I’m sorry and I promise it won’t happen again.
Clocking in at a robust 278 pages, in short, it’s a very nice read. If you prefer the longer version, continue scrolling down.
In case you’ve been under a rock for a while, there’s been a serious pandemic of greed that has been going around the United States for the past decade or so. One of the more particularly egregious forms of it was (is, it still happens to this day, as far as I know) when some slick Gordon Gekko type invites a bunch of golden-agers to have a lunch on his dime while he puts on a very impressive presentation based mostly on smoke and mirrors about how the golden-agers can become fabulously wealthy if they just invest their money with the Gordon Gekko wannabe.
The unfortunate truth is that the golden-agers don’t become fabulously wealthy, but the Gordon Gekko clone does.
Mr. Bronsteen launched himself freely and of his own volition into this morass for a variety of reasons in between May 2010 and February 2011 in order to partake in 50 of these bonanza buffets. The result will not leave you with that overstuffed feeling, and is perfect for most diets. (C’mon! I couldn’t resist, once I had typed the words “bonanza buffets” the rest was a foregone conclusion, thanks for understanding).
Reading between the lines, I got a sense that he might have become bored (or disenchanted) with the art world, and was looking around for something else. But as I have stated previously, I’ve been wrong before, and am likely to be wrong again – or if you prefer in the spirit of the book “Past Performance is No Guarantee of Future Results.”
First off, as he is octogenarian, I would have presumed he knew that a fork always goes on the left side. But there he is bold as life on the front cover of his book with a big steak knife in his left hand and the fork in his right. I’d chalk this up as a mere reversal of the original photo, but in the book he does mention how he parts his hair on the right side, which is where the part in his hair is in this picture. But then again blame might be assignable to one of the staff at the restaurant where the picture was taken, because while the glass of red wine is in its proper place on the right hand side of the setting, the cake fork and spoon for desert are not facing in opposite directions.
Although now that I mention it, the whole photo could be a large and elaborate ruse, and not an actual picture from one of the free lunches that Mr. Bronsteen ate. Some dastardly combo of Photoshop and Food Styling. Because as he also clearly states a couple of times in the book, he does not drink alcohol! Why would there be a picture of him with a full glass of red wine in front of him, unless it was the fabrication of some nameless Food Stylist who overcharges to take pictures of things people eat. Or perhaps it was taken at one of those tourist traps where they try to get you to pay $20 for a Polaroid picture in a paper frame so you never forget the memory. I have one of those from a dinner cruise that I took about 20 years ago, and believe you me I will never forget it, ever.
However, do not let this dissuade you in any way about the book. As I have said numerous times, you cannot judge a book by its cover.
But back to the book itself, for whatever reasons, and place settings aside, Mr. Bronsteen writes about the 50 meals he ate where someone else was buying the food and then pitching him on something. I discovered that these free lunches aren’t only for investments. They can also be given by retirement homes, doctors and funeral homes among others. Just about anyplace where someone thinks that they might be able to separate the checkbook from the checkbook writer.
Mr. Bronsteen’s descriptions of the meals are sometimes sparse, but I imagine that the food itself wasn’t anything to write home about, and if it’s not worth writing home about, it sure as shooting isn’t worth writing in a book about. However as he labels the book satire, the descriptions of the hows, whats, whys and whens of the free lunch circuit are very frequently hilarious.
I was surprised to find out that an awful lot of the lunches not only happen at breakfast and dinner, but also in the same restaurants and in certain cases the pitchmen/women are in fact the same. Mr. Bronsteen describes a couple of times where he almost has to put on a disguise in order to eat – and the other ‘incident’ that I’ll remember for a while is when he gets carded and then told he can’t have the free lunch because he is too old.
I’m not certain that I would have been able to go back to Morton’s and Ruth’s Chris all that often. Although at some point I gotta get me to a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris (or get a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris to me) because my grandmother was named Ruth, and I am fairly confident that at sometime in my formative years someone called me “Ruth’s Chris” when my mom wasn’t around. And on the other side of the family my grandfather’s name was Morton. Go figure, I guess that’s why I like steak.
I also know that free lunch seminars designed to separate you from your money (no matter how old or young you are) are illegal here in Canada. One of many significant differences between the United States and Canada. As a consequence even if I was able to get a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris to me I wouldn’t be able to write a similar book.
Actually, given what I know of Mr. Bronsteen’s life, I can only hope and wish that I am as capable, interesting and entertaining as he is when I am his age. I am fortunate to share birthdays with him (only 37 years apart) and if I squint hard enough I can see some other similarities as well. But it is still a stretch, heck, actually just getting to 80 would be great, everything else would be gravy.
In speaking with him, he has not divulged what his next project is going to be, but if it is half as good as The Adventures Of A Free Lunch Junkie I can’t wait.
Howdy!
Place Bonaventure was built in 1967 by Ray Affleck, and I would guess that while not exact, the waterfalls were part of the original plans.
+This is the 23rd in an occasional series of videos on the fountains of Montreal+
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I’ve definitely been out of touch with the music industry for the better part of a decade. On Thursday I went to see a band that I had never previously hear of, that I initially thought were derivative because they were just starting out, and then after doing a little bit of digging discover that I need to eat my shorts as they have been around since the mid 1990s and have recorded and released 24 CDs (according to Wikipedia 31). Ooops!
But let me backtrack slightly. I’ve always had a kind of love/hate relationship with the lyrics of Bertolt Brecht. Music by Kurt Weill is wonderful in my humble estimation, so there are some versions of the Threepenny Opera that I adore, and others that aren’t so hot.
Initially The Tiger Lillies had been peddled to me as a kind of Brecht/Weill, Threepenny Opera kind of thing, and seeing as how I was feeling slightly frisky I figured “what the hey!” And went with open ears.
They started with more than a bang, coming out on stage and playing Heroin and Cocain. As you can hear, they lyrics are kind of (if you squint slightly) like Brecht (via Marc Blitzstein). But the music isn’t quite Weill
It isn’t quite Welk, either. But it is a tad closer. At first I was quite charmed. Martyn Jacques sings similarly to Jimmy Somerville although I doubt he is a Smalltown Boy.
But once I made that connection, I was off to the races. Over the course of about two dozen songs (of which I only recognized one, Autumn Leaves) I was able to come up with a bunch of different performers who had some sort of connection to The Tiger Lillies. Ranging from Mel Torme
to Tiny Tim
To Spike Jones & his City Slickers
If you want the complete list write to me if you’re curious. Some of them are Rusty Warren, Bun E. Carlos, L’Orchestre d’Hommes-Orchestres, Charles Bukowski.
While the references are all over the place, the songs I heard seemed to be mining a fairly similar terrain. I don’t know if that was due to my being unfamiliar with the songs and as a consequence concentrating mainly on the lyrics and the stage show, or if in fact most of the songs that the Tiger Lillies have recorded over their 24 CD career (maybe 31) indeed sound alike (somehow as I write that sentence, I’m not too certain even I can’t believe that all their songs sound alike).
While it is all fine and dandy to try to shock people with graphic content, I was quite surprised while listening to realize that the rapes, murders and debauched behavior that they sung about was quite similar to what was sung in the 1920s and 30s to shock people. Somehow I would have presumed that someone singing in angry clown makeup in the 21st century who was looking to offend people’s sensibilities would have sung about something potentially more on the edge than straight heterosexual rapes, stabbings and standard issue drug addicts. It gives The Tiger Lillies a faintly quaint air, which almost has a wistful aura of nostalgia.
Kind of like “why can’t we go back to the gold old days, when it was much clearer and easier to understand what behavior was bad?” While at the same time they were definitely members of the 21st century as there wasn’t a single glass of alcohol anywhere on stage. I’m still trying to work out if I like the nostalgia schtick, or if I was disappointed that they hadn’t revised their book of sins so that is was more contemporary.
I gotta hand it to Adrian Huge,
who while not quite the reincarnation of Keith Moon
he comes about as close as I’ve ever seen anyone since Uncle Ernie.
The other Adrian in the band, Adrian Stout, played a mighty fine bass and musical saw, but I was a tad dismayed to see the Theremin that he had set up in front of him go unplayed for the duration of the concert.
We were sitting behind local vedette Eric Braun from Usine 106u who was thoroughly and completely enjoying himself. Behind us was Marie Chouinard although she didn’t last four songs (which quite possibly could have warmed the cockles of Mr. Jacques’ heart). Maybe she didn’t get into the nostalgia.
Given the crowd and the band’s predilections, I can’t understand why they played in the big hall at Usine C, the smaller stage which is much more cabaret-like would have been absolutely perfect for them. Instead of fairly large and cavernous soft-seater where there was a distinct sensation of an awful lot of empty space right behind us. I was very happy to hear that this was their third time performing at Usine C, which means that they have played in Montreal at least three times. But I would be worried for whomever is promoting the fourth time.
It’s tough after one two hour and fifteen minute (including intermission) performance to really have a complete and comprehensive understanding of any band, let alone one as on the fringe as The Tiger Lillies. I’d love it if there was some sort of connection I could make to the Woody Allen film What’s Up, Tiger Lily?. Or if there was anyway I could figure out to connect the band and/or their songs any of the flowers called Tiger Lily to the fact that none of them are native to England (where the band is from) but I can’t. Which leaves me having to make stuff up on my own.
After having read the various raves about them from people as diverse as Matt Groening, Alex Kapranos, Mark Mothersbaugh, Marc Almond and Nan Goldin on their website I’m almost tempted to believe I might have missed something. But I don’t think I did. On the other hand I am not as completely over the top and gung-ho about The Tiger Lillies as they are. I’m definitely going to have to find a copy of the Gorey End, because I like Edward Gorey and the Kronos Quartet, before I commit to a final judgment on and about them.
And now, finally, while copy and pasting that link – I think I unearthed why I distinctly have this sensation of having missed something during their show. The Tiger Lillies are a theatrical band, the music that they perform is all about characters and events. Sometimes the Tiger Lillies even perform an opera. The show that I saw did not have any songs that were linked, there was no connections between anything. It was as if someone had given me a bunch of photographs of people without any background information and then wondered why I did not know any details about the people in the photographs after having looked at the photographs once.
Sorry about being slow.
Howdy!
Earlier this month I was a guest on the CBC Montreal radio show Cinq à Six with Pierre Landry. We discussed the opening of the Claire and Marc Bourgie Pavilion of the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal and their new hanging of Quebec and Canadian Art.
If you’d like to hear it,
Or if you’d like to download it, click here.
Howdy!
While the building itself was built in 1967 by Ray Affleck, I strongly doubt he had a hand in either fountain, and I would also doubt that the one at the entrance was part of the original plans.
+This is the 22nd in an occasional series of videos on the fountains of Montreal+
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Normally I don’t do promo, but this one is too good to pass up. I’m definitely going to have to find someone to drive me to Longueuil in two weeks. See y’all there!
Howdy!
It’ll be interesting to see what monuments get built here in Montreal to remember the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan… Back when things were black or white it was much simpler. You died trying to kill other men with guns and they carved your name in stone.





From the time when only the Canadiens spoke French.












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On Wednesday night I got to see Helge Letonja’s Steptext Dance Project perform The Bog Forest at Agora de la Danse. If memory serves it is playing tonight as well and tickets are cheap. According to the press fodder it’s about immigration. I’m not so certain I would believe that, but despite me not being able to see how it is about immigration I was pleasantly surprised with the performance. One reason I might not have been able to see how it is about immigration is quite literally because it is very dark. Both on a physical level and an emotional level.
Let’s start with the physical first. According to (again) the press fodder Laurent Schneegans is the person responsible for the lighting. Personally I would have given him the title of person responsible for the darkness. The piece is roughly comprised of three (or maybe four) sections and the first one and the last one take place in pretty much an unlighted black box. Now normally I’m not a big fan of not being able to see the dancers, but in this case it wasn’t that bad; a) there wasn’t that much dancing going on (to be more precise, a lot of moving, but not a lot of dancing) and b) given the name of the piece it was obvious that the lack of light was in order to add to the atmosphere.
At the beginning everybody pretty much had their face covered by something or other, whether it was an actual mask, or just a very large hood that then caused shadows, it was difficult at the beginning to figure out who was who. Although after the fact (and with judicious use of the press fodder, I can confidently state that) Christian Wolz starts out with some kind of chanting and Konan Dayot does some staggering around like a busted marionette. I wrote in my notes “a bunch of staged abstract tableaus in the dark.” And more than 24 hours after the fact, I still stand by that statement.
As an introduction to the performance it is effective. Very spooky. They use lighters, have flashlights aimed towards the audience and in general do just about everything you can think of to make you think that you’re in some kind of bog (or for the North American’s in the house a swamp – or if you want to get technical, both are wetlands although swamps tend to have trees, and bogs veer towards treelessness) you know the kind of place you imagine while you’re listening to Dale Hawkins or Lighting Hopkins. But the beginning of the performance as a means to understand that The Bog Forest is a “crossroads for six individual destinies…” I’m, not so certain.
The second part starts with a bang – well not actually a bang, but the aftermath of a bang with a humongous cloud of smoke hanging over the stage. It takes a while to dissipate but continues to add to the swamp-like atmosphere despite the lights actually being turned up and being bright enough so that I could see the dancing. Quite a cool effect, especially since the Agora de la danse is such a small space. At some point I’m going to have to bone up on my “how-to-make-a-large-cloud-of-smoke-in-the-dark-without-any-light-or-sound” notes because I sure as shootin’ had not clue how that cloud of smoke was able to get there.
With the aid of the light it actually became possible to not only identify the dancers (who were generally quite accomplished, if not really really good) but also since they were identifiable; recognize them as individuals. According to my notes there was the “Chinese Couple,” “Blondie,” the “Other Woman,” “The Turkish Guy” and “The Rabbit Guy” (who to be honest, wasn’t a dancer, but was the singer, Christian Wolz). Writing while they are performing doesn’t leave me an awful lot of time to think about suitable titles. Although in the case of “The Rabbit Guy” I could have gone with “The Singing Guy.” But since he carried around a rabbit for the better part of the first part and then that very same rabbit gave “The Other Woman” some sort of epileptic/hysterical fit. I went for the slightly more descriptive title.
The Chinese Couple were I-Fen Lin and Wei Meng Poon. They did a kick-ass duet that started with each of them on a separate square of straw (one stage front and left, the other stage back right) which went through a progression where Mr. Meng Poon removed Ms. Lin’s shirt and did what I called a “dance of tension.” (At some point I’m going to have to do my darnedest to memorize “Technical Manual and Dictionary of Classical Ballet,” my vocabulary sucks the big one when it comes to describing how people move). But this one was where it appeared that there was an equal amount of pulling by both of them so as to keep everything in an equilibrium, more based around brief poses rather than a continuous series of movements.
Not quite the Ab Lounge, or i-Shape but close, and now that I think about it more, I’m certain that there is probably some yoga involved as well. Anyhows, after he takes her shirt they talk in what I presume is Chinese, which turns into an argument, at which point Mr. Meng Poon returns Ms. Lin’s shirt, they reconcile and then she starts coughing while he starts either crying or laughing.
Even with identifiable characters, I’m still not certain what it has to do with immigration…
Prior to the argument over the shirt Ms. Lin and the “Other Woman,” Emilia Giudicelli, have a very graceful, extremely well done, but unfortunately all too short duet. While watching it I was struck by how well they performed together. I’m not certain, but I don’t think they could have been more synchronized had they been doing it together nightly for the past 5 years. There were also two quartets where everything seems right with the world, not quite line dancing, not quite Jazz Dance, not quite Modern Dance either, but very very satisfying. If I remember correctly “The Turkish Guy” (who is actually Brazilian) Leonardo Rodrigues is not quite dancing in counterpoint to the other four, but is dancing on his own in opposition to the other four.
The three other tableaus that were notable were when The Rabbit Guy, Mr. Wolz, hummed around The Turkish Guy, Mr. Rodrigues, in effect making him move as a consequence of the; quote, sound waves; unquote, emanating from his mouth. Think of a leaf on the wind or a piece of cloth in a pool or a river. In retrospect it could be considered a variation on a theme that was started with the “dance of tension” and is continued towards the end when all five dancers join in a game of “keep aloft.”

The set is mainly made up on one side (actually one third) what looks very similar to a miniaturized version of “Lipstick Forest / Nature Légère” by Claude Cormier at the Palais des congrès de Montréal. Branches and twigs instead of trunks, orange instead of pink and suspended curtain-like one on top of another instead of planted on the floor like a fence. But close enough. The other two thirds is made up of some sort of net that has a lot of plastic bags attached to it. Depending on the light, or the lack of light, the plastic bags can kind of look like leaves, handkerchiefs, plastic bags or just something sort of spooky. Or maybe that was just me anticipating Halloween. But, one of the plastic bags becomes the object of the game of “keep aloft,” whereby the dancers try to keep the bag in the air by blowing on it.
The third notable tableau was when “The Rabbit Guy,” Mr. Wolz starts to draw on “Blondie,” Mr. Dayot’s back. It’s notable in that everyone is on stage and no one stops moving, but my eye was riveted on Mr. Dayot’s back, ignoring everything else. Which leads me to believe that whatever dancing was being done wasn’t particularly compelling, because the drawing itself wasn’t all that hot – but the process of drawing was extremely compelling.
Overall, I was impressed, not so much by the narrative or the theme, but by the movement. Mr. Letonja does have a very specific dance vocabulary (which I’m not certain I would be able to learn at this late stage) rooted in movements from nature, like the wind or water and he does translate it extremely well for humans. I’m certain it makes complete sense in his head how it relates to immigration and immigrants, but that didn’t translate to me sitting in the audience, maybe next time I need to go to the performance that has the talk afterwards where they explain everything, although to be honest, all I really would want to know is how they got they cloud of smoke up there, but I’m rambling now, so let me stop.
At the risk of repeating myself, it is the movements taken from nature and reproduced by Mr. Meng Poon, Ms. Lin, Mr. Dayot, Mr. Rodrigues and Ms. Giudicelli that truly make The Bog Forest something wicked-cool.
Howdy!
Built in 1972 to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the building of Place Ville Marie, in French the name is Presence Feminine. The water jets are on a four minute cycle, and more information about Gerald Gladstone can be found here.