30 September 2008

APB, 30 sept 08

finally, an alive show . . .

as part of this year's Side by Side Festival Côte à Côte, a live interview with Governor General's Literary Award-winning Cape Breton poet Don Domanski including him reading "Drowning Water".

Second half of the show was "ww3: war on the worms" & "memo from the gods" by R C Weslowski; "Freya's Wedding" by Lord Torvaldr Torgardson ; "Sin City" by Sheri-D Wilson; "Sea Creatures" by Sharon Singer & Bob Mover; "Don't Shoot Till You See The Whites Of Their Eyes" by Jean Smith.

storefront poetry


by the elvis (presley in
leather     not costello) clock
on bookshelf end     i see it’s
about time to wrap today
but first . . . more photos
of me in action (oui     two words)
will be taken . . . my camera
has not yet captured me at
the typer in residency here
in grande prairie and tomorrow
this ends . . . hopefully with
a full two dozen poem pages
written and taped to the windows
a cookie and cappuccino reward
the fireweed gone to gossamer
seed wispy as fairies in the dell
or the monarch’s milkweed sticks
to pants and arms     sleeves     as
it’s ready to travel to wherever
you’re going consciously or un-
—folk wolf loup farkas vük—
all of us monkeys at the inkwell
dipping our tail tips then brush
the paper the canvas the wailing
wall rocks by the river tree trunks
hoping to make letters to write words



no laptop computer on today’s
desk beside the ol’ north star
war correspondent typewriter
é the only sticky letter
metal finger worn-out back
in the day back in the zone
the geese are not yet leaving
are feeding on the wheat oats
and barley on harvested fields
the past week’s fallen leaves
have turned to sticking brown
mush atop brick sidewalks and
in kurb & guttered roadways
the highway west and northwest
swept clear by convoys of white
trucks coming from or off to
collect their next merit badge
of oil patch dirt     three cheers
for those lucrative overtime hours
heard in the gymnasium auditorium
but not everyone cheered     some
celebrate words and trust sharing
giving selflessly without being
asked and are there time and again
the paths to wealth not the only
ones grossing this vast land



morning-after elements lump
in york hotel parking lot
beside herd of wild horses beer
store and a really green emerald
taxi mini van or they hang . . .
hug wall under too small roof lip
shelter outside riker’s—cold
and too skinny or rounded fat
looking double their years worn
cnleopseod in the pre-stein hours
c.o.d. and letter carriers double
bagged with real mail and junk
smile under their blue boonies
delivering bills and whathaveyou
good goals but poor tactical are
a parachute that doesn’t open
or your seat as a flotation
device when the water is small
as a downed kite’s string in grass
it’s too late to not tell them
i write poems not ad copy not
adventure novels or literature
i didn’t apply for rcmp training
the army navy air force with my eyes
nor to sell new and used cars



i have spent some of the best
days of my life making salads
bicycling along riverside trails
writing poems in artist residencies
i have wasted days in file cabinets
of heartless administrative paper
in the potwasher’s corner staging
rebellion instigated by hererik
i have been blind numb dumb
to the interest in me by others
to the concerns wants and dreams
to my best potential to share
i have fallen asleep in the act
have seized up like an oil-dry engine
or soldier sensing a landmine
underfoot—injury and death the options
i have wasted my mind for countless
days and nights in the kitchens of
others for their profit and leisure
in the bottles and tins of oblivion
i has swam in rivers lakes canals
several oceans and seas of this world
and lain in sand and on hillsides and
been held in the grip of other animals
i want to hug and kiss and laugh
my way my days with genuine smiles

25 Sept 2008

25 September 2008

storefront poetry: 15-20


grim rainbow out there some-
where over the prairies—sun
caught moisture linking—how
does that happen     really? no
choreographer in the clouds
just sunlight travelled millions
of miles kilometres whatever
and condensation likely moisture
picked up over the pacific ocean
the other side of the rocks
and their stony companions
in desert and cooling heels
feet in oyster-rich sunshine
coast’s waters . . . oh for a pillow
to lie my head on . . . not coffee
as the pony express rides again
and runners run their messages
on trails through the canyon maze
and across the truly wide horizon
always moving across everyone’s
personal landscape uniquely
the plate defective empty
somali taxi drivers and food
restaurant in the new york hotel
just around the corner from here



victorian-heeled boots and biker
head scarf trailing a rattail braid
the goofy smile of a bushed man
but patti smith from the speaker
takes me back thirty years to
saturday morning $2.99 door-crasher
lp specials at sam the record man
k-mart plaza tachoma drive dartmouth:
hearing her for the first time
amazed . . . jaw-dropping stunned
by the power and poetry immediate
visceral palatable right there
like little or nothing else heard
sex pistols the clash rats siouxie
—all still over there in merry olde
snuck in songs on cbc gold rush with an
ex-mountie’s mango-flavoured imagination
pigeon grey carpet under his table
mushroom soup in his crested mug
fisher-price toys in a stationer
shop near the foot of portland
street . . . just up from city hall
back sore from working this small
coal face on my side with pickaxe
and little wiggle-room . . . no escape
if the mine above suddens
makes a sinkhole of my heart



boxing books and tools     less-
worn clothes brought     for mailing
east before i fly across goose
instinct and the shuttle sightings
of geese weaving their way south(ward)
feel that i’ve barely touched down
in this wonderful grande prairie town
and i’m about to hit the road     džo
possibly to be replaced by other
writers artists musicians fortune
tellers and shamans of the wor(l)d
birch leaves not fallen keep
frost off tomatoes and cukes
the small bed of red potatoes
leaving hairs between the sheets
skin and nail clippings the makings
of a hoodoo voodoo coochee boy
doll with beer and wine arteries
gluestick heart     lavender grate
for a whale mouth wired shut
against talking and interrupting
something new     anything not tried
viking conservative right wrong
as assertive fine arts l wing
and housed across the parking lot
from nurse engineering and all else



shopmen of new t-shirts rock
the ribbon reverses itself
endless supply of ink to
instantly printing letters
nothing like a bacon wallet
or the november artist nicole
bauberger planning to make
a hundred small encaustic dress
paintings in ten days in the
pillars area of grande prairie
regional college caffeteria
a sloan song has me thinking
bacxk to adam yesterday afternoon
talking about classifies being
from elmsdale enfield area and
that two of his (adam’s) relatives
play in grand theft bus in fredericton
—such a small world—and ann
manuel’s “his last breath” painting
in prairie art gallery newsletter
jon driscoll still in belarus
learning russian while zoya and
iza are in wild western canada     eh?
wings on a girl’s ankles covered
—one who wanted books by hand
on a different day or night



what transforms a student—scared
expelled frustrated angry paranoid—
into a newscast’s gunman: columbine
regina toronto montréal wherever . . .
waving a gun or mock gun about
doesn’t transform student into man
even if it makes him a killer
taken suicided or killed by a sharp-
shooter for peace enforcement
perhaps prison songs and this store-
front poetry could become one book
—after casemate poems (collected)?
I’ll be riding the silver wave of film
in fredericton at the same time
rob has arranged for span-o to
clean ottawa’s litterary clogs
c’est la vie—rob lost this one
the life of a half reading given
here with alta baggage rather than
orleansexpress.com bus to otterwater
with a terminal montréal deli b’fast
en route before dawn home entertainment
the capitol shelved until late January
next year when i’ll be treed—not
hibernating or garret-chilled writing
and writing my was thru the world



drop the toy and lose it—you’ve
been told—time to go for a walk
cool off (in the autumn breeze)
go home and get/take a nap?
movies milk and a gas fireplace
typewriter sliding left off the table
as i write more and more poems
boys with tape and band posters
stopped by the racked creatures
i’m something new in the shop
in the rabbit hole of wonders
but i’m not part of the security
i want so many books in here
with the time and fireplace
perhaps the west chezzetcook
stored papasan chair to curl in
so i can read and read and read
tonight is a school something
a birthday fallen on presentation
of awards or scholarships or what?
and i said i’d be there as sure
as his opa and grandmother bibi
coming in from their japanese
pottery studio and kilns in hythe
a donkey named after el vis     the
mexican elvis impersonator golden


23 September 2008

storefront poetry: 12-14


talking instead of writing poem
stuff—neither exoskeleton nor
guts—not the three parts: head
thorax and abdomen     wasps attracted
to the glowing beer glass’ heart
eye the surface and the open space
between there and your mouth before
putting it to your lips     where is
the poem: at the tip of your tongue
at the top of your throat quivering
in the back of gibbous cave open
then closed wind tunnel talking
talk’s rumble through breaths and
a listening exchange with adam
irish from the land of people
of the eastern dawn (door) . . .
cape breton . . . here for his last
year of high school—writing     making
music and smoking a little skunk
en route to foundation year at king’s
in halifax . . .writing and journalism
to create self-sufficiently with
friends sharing and caring the days
in sun through blood into seed and
winter towards new green promise

23sept 2008


columns of cloud truncated
clipped like a head in a misjudged
hanging—drawn beyond hope—
above the student lockers Ase
after case filled with stuffed
birds and other animals—some
amateur or obsessed taxidermy
project—little man bent over
his bench magnifying glass in
bright domed light     wiring wings
adding glass eyes and labels
what is it that places insects
and sailing ships—wooden models
all—in a display together?
zoya with all she imagined
needing for four months in canada
in her suitecase(s) packed . . .
The billowing clouds darken
scorned like salt & vinegar kettle
potato chips and i wonder about
the underworld of the potato
goddess and the great alpaca
sacrifice for eternal foodstuff
for the hungry mountain folk
so celluloid far from rabbit hole

23sept 2008


a row of marilyn on photocanvas
above my head—some would see
the poses of an angel—desire
or fallen—but embodying dreams
rounding out the column doric
blackening clouds spit on intent
to move 50,000 comic books this
afternoon . . . that’s quite a haul!
ropy-headed goth chicks in blue
jeans with little star and spider
purses . . . small hail pings off
truck hoods and sidewalks wet
i’ve learned that the pod resides
upstairs through beaded curtain
like a moroccan office manager
—wild billowing curtains over
opened window as shelter-seeking
pigeons fly through hail pellets
in their mostly black & white lie
world whatever on foam platforms
with even the pale pink & blue
feeling greyscale dinosaur breath
and a furrowed brow reflection
of lone wolf feet walking away
from the cashe display case

23sept 2008

22 September 2008

storefront poetry: 6–11


their accents sing of other
islands     other steppes     other
river valleys and forests
howling rabbit afternoon song
the growing domesticated and
natural plants and animals
—all know the sun is dying
back these shortening days
lengthening nights and not
even duct tape can stabilize
the spinning wobble of earth
black coffee my crude fuel
rain or shine—elbow patch
tweed only     no thanks—
on the table and countertop
bar or diner—fine food fast
never mind the greased pigeons
huddled under the exhaust vent
all the scent without any food
like watching exercise television
while slumped in chair or up
against the wall—beer in hand
mystic forgets their muse
late-breaking news—s o s—
the reporter longhands notes
flips pages over the spiral

21–22sept 2008


i could sleep and sleep
through the later dawn and
not think about meaningless
school buses or sirens elsewhere
in this small c larger than
the one how far southeast of
here how many road pops away
homer marley and wilde oscar
—if they have found homes
in grande prairie     anyone can
this is not quite the wilder
buttcrack towns deeper in
the patch hungry and growing
growling too fast down the
highway on their way to bacon
and pickle bandages     patchouli
and eyes wide open peasant skirts
and tourism department sunshine
a shower of yellow leaves like
aging and dying are fun
and i feel i'm a tree forever
watching traffic approach
and roll on past like clouds
without enough space to relax
moth at the window glass with
almost the whole world out there



a man wants js and che
jimi janice james dean
jim morrison john lennon (not)
john wayne to cowboy up!
and johnny cash too
che for his fellow greys
tfig sdrac elbaliava ereh
plus marilyn—just because
blue parking police ticketing
the parked too close to hydrant
i’m building the second pillar
or column framing the doors
closed to today’s cooler vent
drum and bass opera pawnbroker
björk on the airway book gulp
nothing like dead stars in hand
or their past lives to share
and celebrate eternally like
colourful birds of imagination
preserved in approximate amber
for doubloons pantaloons and wine
as skeins of geese lift up up up
honking out of reach of quill pen
intentions for some with a jar
of mushroom ink for a slow draw
of letter-by-letter words poetic
stroked across paper receptive

22sept 2008


desire the motivation for some
a dish aimed into the vast
out there so beyond missable
but where are the worms     the
other planets with communicable
life and the endless challenge
of recreation—ready or not—
and how to pass the afternoon
the apple rum and fingers evening
the night whooping itself hoarse
coarse to hide sensitive shrieking
and the shock of being alive
and stressed before all time
in a nebula of relative proximity
with rings of the disintegrated
or not fully firmed—either
or both not stable or sustainable—
it wasn’t like that     some say
as adult world so nearby but
condoning or seemingly unaware
how could they not feel the chaos
the game not lust not love but dare
and the young players playing
as if reputation is the only risk
not body–mind and possible futures
beyond the small orbit of now



incense and scented candles burn
side by each and twirl around
each other too sweet and sticky
candy parking in my no parking
zone like throated brazil nuts
i can’t escape by not breathing
and i can’t shatter like the pane
of broken smoke next door in the
canton restaurant’s walled wind
4x4 big country overdrive job
this poetry for rent not hire
copies might become available
for slippery purchase of its dark
flavour—a relish consumable
ink under the skin stretched
or signature facepaint around eyes
for wednesday’s alice or f’ton
friday midnight’s rocky horror
—oh     what a choice so soon
after autumn equinox’s respect
and thanks for everything living
that has given or been taken with
thanks prayer and offering—
like the red wine in my cup
at the end of another poem page



a man walked in the door—
beige and brown sweater and pants
a cooked salmon-colour dressed woman
with bird-confusing big eye sunglasses
a black convertible beetle passes . . .
better than a burning van with
a body nearby—accident or . . .
not yet decided—or the man chased
who died not in the crash but before
spike belt flattened sierra tires
a long-barrel firearm companion
to the emotionally distressed deceased
as local gun owners continue to rebel:
shed fire and fence fire unrelated flares
in these pre-election bored nights where
poetry and mediation     school days and
consensual free-range style not so
acted ultimate fight club occupy
many much of the time but not enough
to obliterate or obscure wonder that
there might be something else out
there worth wanting beyond sleep
or another grocery store visitation
and seeming funky world beers
coffee beans ground before dawn
and a gato phat poking at my head


T: Silver Wave Film Fest 2007
loc: Grande Prairie
temp: 10 C
sound: chopping & stir-fry in the kitchen

storefront poetry 5

in the media's eye     the raven's
glean     crystals around my feet
on land built of dung and dead
plants and eon-pulverized ground
rock made digestible absorbable
osmosis into plants and animals both
in the rain on the cusp of boreal
forest and great northern prairie
bison and elk on the rolling hills
a candelling sentinel tree     on
one ridge     rounded above like a
mushroom cloud above a desert
to the south or above a city
a death-tree spreading     its limbs
left fallen like a spoor print in
spring after a heavy ice storm
dry cumulus clouds foamed up
rise above the hazed horizon
combine harvester dust and dirt
roads with a fear of lightning
strike fires in bush grass woodlands
widely-spaced aspen lodgepole pine
tamarack and swamped black spruce
—nose mountain somewhere beyond—
and my ears feel like when i am
swimming underwater     my water-
logged frog leg kicks and kicks
the thickened surrounding body

18 September 2008

storefront poetry 4


comix for the workers     misfit
collectibles for the ever
rebelling youth     cow-
girls in shorts and leather boots
the rabbit hole a centre of counter-
and under-the-counter culture life
shakespeare behind me on the floor
tolstoy twain desade heaney facing
me as tom waits sings to the store
i’m told we made the front page
of the dawson creek daily without
crimes committed or outrage
claimed or accused thereof like
houseflies in the storefront open
door attracting novelty seekers—a
display of action figures under
glass and racks of t-shirts from
the edges of the past that don’t
won’t go away unless all humans
get disappeared faster than dinosaurs
gone like codfish from the nose
of the wonderful grand banks
once to the west of civilization
in secret      off the charts harvest
and collection of church tithes
in parts not mapped—the new found
land of basques and jersey merchants
or pirates from la manche home ports
reaping unimaginable riches from
the sea and sandbar shore tuskers


storefront poetry: 1-3


on the edge of the rabbit
hole on the grande prairie main
street wagon trail a special agent
of the regular canadian manual poets
writes types on his typer while
the drive-bys and the pied-footed
walk and sometimes look in at
the stranger observing the latest
new to him parking metred road fribble
en route to wherever they’re bound
atv and gas cans on a big truck
crew trucks with drive-thru coffees
and surprises for locals of however
long they’ve been in this place
more than books and music—new
used recycled attributed alleged
the dogs image wellers graving
yellow fire hydrant bait for
unsuspecting dogs and dog walkers
in a town growing wheels in webs
out out out across the landscape
but this is not a painting bucolic
nostalgic for the farmstead smithy
collected and catalogued years ago
by the glenbow for the remember when
of decades not centuries or millennia



willie on the road and joe
on the typer on the poem (again)
writing like he meant it or had
something worthwhile to say to write
and not just filibuster time
occupying an opening in the cloud
cover in the groundcover behind
the bush-beater’s known associates
another dead trickster on the edge
of the highway—struck by a truck
going driving outside the lines
of the mounted over grassed prairie
the not-so-far mountains obscured
by haze and the arriba dust of
the drive for more and more taking
and leaving less future here
abandoning emptiness when pressure
drops away or the price isn’t profit
viable for the guzzlers and reapers
far from this working field—an ex-
ocean pressed in rockbeds lifted
high above sea level as the rocks
slowly push higher into thinner air
than the dublin home of kilkenny
and guiness as the rift the mid-
atlantic ridge widens between olde
and new-to-then worlds on this one



battle brawls peace preserves and bad
girls made with love body piercings
tattoos accessories tools giftware
coyote of the fresh air team tagged
dimland almost dinsdale near here
garnet in the rough before arrogant
worms blue and pink-blonde hair
dyed dry as the d- word not spoken
yellow leaves on the downtown side
walk made of the same bricks and
country-wide improvement incentive
program federal funding sameness
fredericton to grande prairie and
beyond east west and north subliminal
tripwire poetrymines attached to
the hole the doorframe—come on
and dive into what you didn’t know
was here with cappuccinos out the
back door so far from bloor street
with no desire for that trophy
cats at my back i’m connected
with my lapdog no steer no boeuf
no noble bison wild and free here
some farmed as we are farmed
our growth our output harvested
and shelved in another bound book

T: highland radio 2005
loc: Rabbit Hole bookstore, Grande Prairie, Alta.
temp 22 C
sound: Tom Waits

13 September 2008

joe’s going west

Joe Blades will be participating in a Fall Literary Extravaganza, 18-25 September 2008, in Grande Prairie, Alberta along with related activities in Dawson Creek, BC (about 1.5 hrs drive west of Grande Prairie). Alongside Jenna Butler & Dymphny Dronyk, on 19 Sept, Joe will be giving reading–workshop presentations to high school students at South Peace Senior Secondary School and 7 pm reading at the Dawson Creek Art Gallery that evening.

“Joe does a thing where he sets up his typewriter, an old manual typewriter he’s got, and he sets it up on a desk either in the entrance or in the window,” See explained. “He’ll (then) spend some time composing poetry kind of on-the-fly while people are coming by, while he’s watching the streets.”
—Henry See, The Rabbit Hole Bookstore, quoted in "Small Press Fair going down the Rabbit Hole" by Nick Kuhl, Encore!
Writing in the Window Residency
@ at the Rabbit Hole Bookstore
10020-100 Avenue, Grande Prairie, Alberta

September 18th, 19th, 22nd, 23rd: afternoons

featuring Joe Blades: poet, artist, publisher
poetry inspired by Main Street, Boomtown, Alberta

watch words at work
“Books By Hand”, hand-sewn chapbook making workshopled by Joe Blades. Chapbooks are a really creative, unique way to create small collections of poems or short fiction. September 23, 7-9:30, $40 per person, minimum 6 participants. For info: Centre for Creative Arts, Grande Prairie, info@creativecentre.ca 780-814-6080.
The Peace Country’s First Annual Small Press Book Fair

Celebrating small and independent presses!

Location: Rabbit Hole Bookstore
10020 100 Avenue, Grande Prairie AB T8V 0V3

Date: Sunday, September 21, 2008

Time: Fair - 1 PM to 5 PM
(Fair Set-up starts at noon.)

Display space: $10 (send cheque or money order c/o Rabbit Hole or pay at set-up time)

Contact: Harrison or Henry c/o Rabbit Hole Bookstore

Phone: 780-539-7999 or fax 780-832-0141

Email: rabbithole@telus.net
loc: 'tween crew shifts
temp: 13
sound: Captain Tractor Land

12 September 2008

Excerpt du jour

One day a poet appeared before the leader of a country and gave him a puzzling problem, saying that if he could not solve it satisfactorily, his country would be destroyed.

Joe Blades
from the book that doesn’t close . . . (forthcoming)

T: Cerveza
loc: pre-HJAB work
temp: 12 C
sound R.E.M. "The One I love"

10 September 2008

Found photo du jour

Found 10 AM-ish, today, beside the sidewalk at the top of York Street, Fredericton, between Jobs Unlimited and the Priestman Street school. Pretty obvious who is in this cut-up photo ID card.

Also found on this morning's great circle trek to the eye doc's and Blue Cross were a silver hoop earring and a large wine goblet.

shirt: WindRiver Outfitters cabining shirt
loc: computerstn
temp: 14 C
sound: Red Hot Chili Peppers Blood Sugar Sex Magik

04 September 2008

Join Popstart if the shoe fits


Welcome to the September, "Back To School" edition of the Popstart / RAIQ monthly Newsletter!

Check out www.popstart.ca and http://www.artsinterdisciplinaires.org for complete news and notices postings.

New items appear weekly.

A Few Words From Our Team
The RAIQ welcomes our new General Manager

Dear friends, members of the RAIQ and interdisciplinary artists at large,

I am pleased to announce that as of September, the RAIQ has a new General Manager, Lise Gagnon. Lise's tremendously varied background clearly demonstrates her passion for artistic hybridity and experimentation.

As Director of the new media centre Studio XX from 1999 to 2004, she was instrumental in the organisation's development and growth. Lise holds a B.A. in Dance, a Masters in Art Studies, and is currently the Director of the prestigious Cahiers de théâtre Jeu.

On behalf of the Board of Directors, I would like to give Lise a very warm welcome--we look forward to working with you!

Lise is replacing the RAIQ's fantastic outgoing Coordinator-Director Virginie Belhumeur, who has run off to join the circus! She is now at En Piste (Québec's Regroupment for Circus arts), but is planning to join the board!

--Miriam Ginestier, President of the RAIQ

The RAIQ's AGM is just around the corner… On the menu: coffee, bagels, chat, games, and, (of course) elections!

Dear members and friends of the RAIQ,

I am extremely happy to find myself among you. Having just started this new position I am currently preparing for the AGM, in collaboration with our Board of Directors. Our annual meeting will take place on Friday September 19, 10am, at the Studio 303. I will soon be sending out more info, but I invite you to mark this date on your calendars right away! We hope that the AGM will be a fruitful encounter and plan for it as an opportunity to exchange ideas, set a list of current priorities, and discuss our involvement in responding to the Harper cuts. Please don't hesitate to invite potential members. And a reminder: memberships can be renewed at this time as well. Looking forward to meeting you soon!

--Lise Gagnon, General Manager of the RAIQ

And More: RAIQ & Popstart

First off, thanks to all those came out to the demo on August 27 in protest against the Harper government cuts to arts and culture. According to Culture Montréal, we were 2500 strong, filling up the large main space inside the SAT and spilling out into the park and surrounding street outside. Demos this week in Quebec City and Toronto will continue to rally support for our cause. To read the Culture Montréal press release, and to download and sign an open letter to Prime Minister Stephen Harper, please visit

On the Popstart front, we are actively recruiting new members to join our network of Interdisciplinary artists and presenters, so if you know anyone who should know about us, and who should join, please send them our way!

And finally… coming soon: our new Newsletter look. Stay tuned for the snazzy re-make of our monthly bulletin.

--Victoria Stanton, Popstart Coordinator

News & Notices Highlights

• Bénévoles recherchés, Les Escales Improbables de Montréal – Montreal, QC: Sept. 11 – 14, 2008

• DARE-DARE: call for submissions – Montreal, QC: deadline Sept. 12, 2008

• The Lab Sessions 4.0 "Deconstructing Hip" – Toronto, ON: deadline Sept. 19, 2008

• International Videoperformance Festival of Mexico City – Mexico City, Mexico: deadline Sept. 26, 2008

• RAIQ AGM election time – Montréal, QC: Sept. 19, 2008
Submit your candidacy for the RAIQ's new Board of Directors!


• QUEBEC CITY: Folie/Culture Presents Cinéma en plein air

• TORONTO: A Space Presents Pilgrimage of Wanderers

• MONTREAL (1): Factory Project

• MONTREAL (2): The RAIQ holds its AGM

Topics & Sites of Interest

"-empyre- soft_skinned_space"

-empyre- is a non-hierarchical, online community, based in Australia. Founded in 2002, the site facilitates critical perspectives on contemporary cross-disciplinary issues, practices and events in networked media by inviting guests -key new media artists, curators, theorists, producers and others to participate in thematic discussions.


Popstart / RAIQ Listings

Just a reminder: If you are registered with the Popstart or RAIQ site, you can post your news independently. Notices go through an approval process, so please post AT LEAST ONE WEEK IN ADVANCE. If you haven't logged in yet, please do! Many profile pages could still use updating. Let us know if you're having trouble getting logged in.


Connecting Canadian Interdisciplinary Artists
Le réseau des artistes interdisciplinaires du Canada