Articles tagged with: Ottawa art
I was told yesterday that I had missed Ottawa’s best jam session of the year. It happened last weekend at D’Arcy McGee’s in Orleans, right across the street from the Shenkman Arts Centre and 30 minutes after the final award had been given out there by the Canadian Grand Master’s Fiddling Championships.
And I’m more than willing to dissent from those who insist photography is not art because it is something seen by the eye, not the mind. Oh please, that’s like saying only art can change how one sees the world, which photography has done more times than any, except perhaps for the atomic bomb. While there is definitely mind-shifting in that level of destruction, I’m not sure I’d want to argue that its art.
For some, fashion is a dirty word, evoking self-important couturiers, spinning wears that cost more than our cars. There are those who regard Vogue with the same distain as Hustler. I once hurled an InStyle magazine into the trash when a guy I liked happened to walk by, lest he think I was a clothes whore. With age comes self-acceptance.
Earlier this month, painter Ross Rheaume read that millennia-old paintings in the Lescaux caves were not just depictions of animals in the hills of southern France; they were perfect representations of constellations. There was the requisite moment of awe, but the news wasn’t a surprise because Rheaume thinks that good art is always a story about who we are (humans in space) and what we feel (wonder, nostalgia, fear
Elliott Smith knew the hotel’s talent contest was in the bag. By then he’d been performing magic for 34 years, and the crowd loved his session. Then the manager asked him to stay for another week and do some shows; the hotel would comp the room and meals for him and his wife. Smith says the decision was a no-brainer.
After four years at a school for writers, actors, musicians, visual artists and dancers, I like to think that I know a thing or two about the creation of art. I have seen, firsthand, optimism and frustration, ideas discarded and re-adopted and the brilliance of unexpected inspiration. I’ve experienced them too. But as I step up to the door of H’Art of Ottawa, I’m convinced I do not know art quite the way it exists here.
Mat Dubé has poked his nose into a lot of creative expressions. Some have come easily, and have been fun; others have been a slog that drains one’s spirit. He battles two dilemmas: that he tends to be very good at any art he tries; and that indecision keeps him bouncing from one to another. “I know the rules of how to make money (from art). I just don’t know if I want to (follow them),” is his conclusion, so far.