Biked down to the Harbourfront yesterday. There was some blues festival going down there. The music was kinda lame and the festival was...I dunno, all the festivals down there reek of mediocre sameness. The same t-shirt stands, the same food tent, the same retired couples in white sportswear being rude to the hot dog vendors.
I always feel ripped off when I go down to Harbourfront. Everthing seems a bit dingy and badly designed. It could have been a gorgeous waterfront. sigh.
We pedalled over to the powerplant gallery where we saw a show called "Stretch". The first object you see when you enter the gallery is a highway-trampoline running down the long hall. It was all I could do not to jump on it.
But what I really wanted to mention is "Aliento(Breath)" by Colombian artist, Oscar Munoz.:
There ware about 8 metal disks along one wall that reflected your face as you got closer. If you breathe on the mirror/disk, a photograph appears in the vapour. The images were of people who had been 'disappeared' by the Colombian military.
The act of breathing life onto these images was gorgeous on so many levels. I am not such an afficionado of visual art, but this interactive piece was both sacred and simple.
If you do go see it, I must warn you of the creepy room with the lego coffin. to be avoided and a smeared wall at the back. As soon as I walked in, I felt a horrible, throbbing feeling in my head, behind my eyes. As I walked up to the wall, I read the card that told me it was a wall smeared with the grease from human cadavers. It was awful. I was angry at the shock value and nauseated by the concept.
The only interesting part of that wall was that both Chris and I felt exactly the same pain behind our eyes before we knew what it was. Do you think it was some kind of biological recognition? Does that sound flakey?
Both peices ask you to particpate, both elicit strong reactions, both deal with an idea of death, but I am angry at the crude shock value of the second.
Anyhow, we ended the day by joining Dave and Abi and a whole bunch of other lovely folk for a game of ulimate in the field near Dufferin Mall. I mostly watched, as I have never played and have huge frisbee issues (see fractured fibula, May 2001), not to mention a fear of the multitasking that team sports demand, but I think I am coming around.