Tag: Capital Arts Online

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A new chapter for library e-book lending

Ottawa Public Library
Ottawa’s public library is one of many Canadian branches fighting for more freedom in loaning best selling e-books to Canadians.

When J.K. Rowling’s latest book, Casual Vacancy, hit shelves in late September, it was already number two on Amazon’s bestseller list. The book sold over 600,000 copies in its first three weeks, and fans lined up at bookstores across the country to get their hands on a copy. Libraries quickly ran out of physical copies to lend and began compiling waiting lists for the book. But for patrons with e-readers, they too were forced to either buy the book or go on a waiting list for a hard copy version from their libraries. That’s because Canadian libraries are not allowed to loan out most bestselling books in an e-book format.

While e-readers and e-books are gaining in popularity among Canadian readers, publishers are restricting library access to bestseller e-books. It’s a move that seems counterintuitive, but publishers say it’s because they’re looking to save money. They argue that allowing libraries to lend e-books unrestricted will lead to illegal sharing and downloading of the content by users.

Restrictions currently in place include (1) allowing only a single copy of an e-book to be loaned to one person at a time, (2) limits to how many times the e-book can be loaned before the library needs to buy the book again and (3) not allowing any e-material to be loaned at all. For example, HarperCollins allows an e-book to be loaned only 26 times before the library has to purchase the license again, while Penguin Group allows only certain books to be loaned in an e-book format.  None of the “Big Six” publishers (MacMillan, HarperCollins, Penguin Group, Hachette Book Group, Random House, and Simon & Schuster) responded when contacted for comment on the issue.

But Monique Brûlé, manager of collections at the Ottawa Public Library, says these restrictions don’t look likely to be in place forever. “There is some sort of room to grow towards allowing us better access to their e-books,” she says when speaking of recent negotiations with publishers.

Fighting to go digital

A pilot project being launched this year by the Canadian Urban Libraries Council (CULC) e-Book task force is taking advantage of the discussions with publishers. The project is being considered as a breakthrough by many Canadian libraries in the tension between publishers and libraries over e-book lending. “We are looking at developing a shared portal where we would be able to purchase content directly through publishers and make that content available directly in our existing library catalogues that we use for physical material,” says Jennifer Stirling, a member of the CULC e-book task force. The group hopes to run the pilot for approximately six months to allow as many Canadian libraries to sign on as possible.

With so many Canadians now turning to digital reading, libraries need to keep up, by offering more e-books.

The pilot would allow publishers to see how giving libraries the ability to purchase e-book content directly from publishers would work, and hopefully ease the restrictions currently in place, Stirling says. The project is similar to one being launched in the United States. Stirling says the outcome of that project will help determine the success of the CULC pilot.

The pilot will also give libraries more flexibility than currently allowed through the digital distributor used for e-book lending. North American libraries use a digital distribution system called OverDrive to lend e-books. It is through this system that publishers supply e-books for libraries to use, removing any direct communication between libraries and publishers. The project will change this method, allowing for direct communication between the two groups.

Kristen Cavanagh of the Brampton Public Library says libraries need to break away from the habit of being a passive institution. “Libraries tend to accept whatever is handed to us. We need to be the people who make the decision: ‘We are not going to buy from you until you go ahead and do this,’” she says. “But that’s not really library culture; we don’t tend to push the envelope, and as a group we should.”

E-readership rising fast

There are high hopes for the CULC pilot project, which may force publishers to finally negotiate with libraries on the strict restrictions. This is because e-readership has been growing exponentially over the past few years and more and more patrons are turning to e-books. A study released in early October by BookNet Canada revealed that e-books represent about 16 percent of the overall Canadian book market. “While Canadian book buyers are still buying their books predominantly in print formats at bricks and mortar stores, there is a significant shift happening in buying and reading behaviour,” the report notes.

The Guelph Public Library noticed the trend toward e-readers and e-books a few years ago and began what CEO Kitty Pope describes as a “petting zoo.” The library hosts the weekly event where patrons can come in and test out different e-readers. Staff are trained and made available to answer any questions about the technology. Pope says this has greatly increased e-book readership at the library. “[Patrons] go to the petting zoos; they play with it, and then they perhaps borrow one of our e-readers. And then from there they say, ‘I want my own!’” She estimates the GPL spends about $5,000 a month on e-book resources to support the growing e-readership. While most other Canadian libraries don’t loan e-readers, services are made available to assist patrons with their own devices, such as links on the website and training from staff.

Loaning an e-book
Jennifer Quinlan is downloading a library e-book. E-readers have made borrowing books such that you don’t need to leave home.

With so many Canadians now turning to digital technology for their reading, it makes sense for libraries to offer content in an e-book format. All librarians interviewed for this story noted that patrons have been frustrated with the inability to borrow most bestselling e-books. Says Cavanagh, “We did a customer satisfaction survey recently, and one of the things that they identified as an increased need is more titles in OverDrive. And they’re just not available. So how do we tell customers that we would love to do that for them, but publishers aren’t willing?”

While the future looks bright for e-books in the market, it remains uncertain for libraries’ e-reading. The pilot project is a step forward in negotiations between libraries and publishers, but Pope, Cavanagh and Brûlé agree it will take time before publishers ease, much less remove, restrictions. Cavanagh’s optimism is cautious. “It’s only going to take one publishing house, and it’s got to be a big one, to say, ‘We’re going to make things available across all platforms; the libraries own it; you can lend it to someone else; you can sell it; and you can treat it like a book,’” she says. “But I think we’re a ways off: not anything happening in the next couple of years.”

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Fashion with a ‘Gypsy’ twist

It all started with a young woman who had too many clothes and not enough closet space. Aria Leroux is and always will be a collector of stuff. Just step across the threshold of her boutique, Gypsy & Co., at 209 Gilmour Street, and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. For example, it might take you a few moments to realize that the vintage bicycle you’ve been admiring and wondering about (the one leaning casually against the picture window) acts as a kind of welcome mat, signalling that you’ve arrived.

The shop is chock-full of vintage finds — 1980s crop tops and high-waisted pants, ’60s mod colour-block dresses and miniskirts, bell-bottom pants of the early ’70s — all moderately priced and at your fingertips, waiting for a new home among the quirky and imaginative patrons who frequent Gypsy & Co. in search of that one-of-a-kind item.

And find it you will. Leroux makes use of every single inch of her tiny space: To your left and right, rows of clothing line the walls. Antique furniture items, scattered throughout, display an array of vintage baubles and jewelry on pretty silver trays. A plant hanger from the ceiling houses a collection of sunglasses. Like pieces of artwork, necklaces hang from tacks pushed into the walls.  A gilded, high-backed couch at the shop’s front provides customers with a comfortable perch on which to watch the world go by.


A soothing abundance.  As well as clothes and jewelry, Gypsy offers a cafe section where clients can sip tea and feel at home.

An alcove at the back of the room serves as the shop’s kitchen, which is not just for show. Leroux and her business partner, Veronica Michelle, also operate a cafe. Each menu item is named after the ladies’ favourite “local faces and places,” says Michelle. “The Rockalily” (a sandwich made of granny smith apple, peach chutney and old white cheddar cheese) is named after the burlesque troupe that Leroux and Michelle belong to. And a music store called Record Shaap operates in the boutique’s basement, selling CDs and vinyl records. Leroux doesn’t own the record store but says she often gets owner Matty McGovern to supply music for cocktail and costume parties hosted at Gypsy.

Opened last spring, Gypsy & Co. is still a new kid on the block, yet it was nominated this past October for “Best Vintage Shop in Ottawa” by Ottawa (X)Press, the city’s alternative weekly entertainment guide. Other contenders included Ragtime, Young Janes and Attic, and although Ragtime snagged the coveted title, Leroux says she is honoured to have been included among such vintage veterans (“Ragtime’s been around for, like, 30 years,” she mentions) and says it was “totally mind-blowing” that Gypsy took first-place runner-up.

In fact, Leroux — who began by selling clothes online and who recently opened a second Gypsy & Co. store, on Dalhousie Street — says she was surprised just by the nomination itself. But then again, a self-deprecating attitude is part of her charm.

Gypsy’s price tags are marked no higher than $200 — a rarity in the finer vintage clothing business — and even in that range they seem a bargain: The pricier pieces tend to be unique staples of vintage fashion that you’d be crazy to pass up. “This space is as student-oriented as it can be without having to close,” Leroux says of her prices.

In fact, Gypsy’s prices are meant to be competitive even with huge retail clothing outlets such as at the Rideau Centre. For Leroux’s loyal customers, buying local trumps buying corporate any day. And it’s the ultimate form of recycling, she says.

Seeking that edge

Leroux makes an impression personally, as well. With fiery red bangs cropped neatly across her forehead, a number of facial piercings dotting her top lip and cheek, and a curvaceous figure that could rival Marilyn Monroe’s, she reminds me of a friend’s cooler big sister.

‘This space is as student-oriented as it can be without having to close.’ — owner Aria Leroux, on her prices

And why has Gypsy & Co. developed such a loyal following in its short history so far? Part of the answer surely lies in Leroux’s work ethic and ability to adapt quickly to supply and demand.

There are lots of people in the vintage clothing business in Ottawa right now, she says, so she relies on resourcefulness to help her shop stand out. “I might not get every beautiful ’50s prom dress that you can occasionally find in, like, the back bin at Value Village. You know, it’s me and like, eight other people that are fighting for that. But I’ll take something that someone else might overlook and be able to turn it into something equally amazing.”

This conscientious approach is evident in many aspects of her boutique. In addition to the (as she says) “painstakingly handpicked” garments and accessories that line the shelves and racks, Gypsy & Co. carries a plus size and menswear line, two things that Leroux says the Ottawa vintage scene currently lacks.

Regarding menswear particularly, Leroux says she absolutely put her foot down, pledging to carry a decent collection. The shop boasts a sizable array of sports jackets, coats, pullovers and sweaters.


Accessory treats.  Vintage baubles and jewelry are served up temptingly, throughout the shop, on antique boudoir trays.

Originally from Vancouver, where vintage has always been a “huge fashion staple,” she now uses her West Coast connections to keep Gypsy supplied from beyond Ontario. Her last big hometown haul came east in four large suitcases, none of which was packed with any of her own clothes. Other pieces come from the Maritimes, and the shop features Leroux’s own handmade line, recycled from used clothing (“Unless it’s a rag, it can be turned into something else” she says) and vintage fabric and material.

Timeless elegance

“Vintage fashion is almost like antique hunting,” says Cate Lorimer, a contributor to The Genteel, an online fashion magazine. “You almost become, like, a collector.” Lorimer goes only to thrift shops for her clothing and says she often finds items for pennies that look like something you could grab off the rack at H&M.

“It’s just become such a fashion movement: having something vintage or used. It has a special ring to it now,” Lorimer says. A lot of the appeal comes from runway and media-reported trends, she adds.


Fashion sphinx: Gypsy & Co. owner Aria Leroux in her element.

Lorimer says she has noticed many celebrities opting to wear vintage-inspired gowns and suits on the red carpet and notes that consumers, both men and women, look to awards season as a way to inspire day-to-day clothing choices.

Part of vintage’s appeal is its aura of longevity, Lorimer adds: “The things that you do see in a vintage store are usually the things that are so classic and timeless that you can wear them forever. There’s something really special about that.”

And Leroux’s selection certainly mirrors this ideology. Every piece passes through her skilled hands. She spends anywhere from half an hour to three hours on each garment, depending on how much restoration it needs. Pieces from the ’40s and ’50s require some research beforehand. This way, the original design stays as authentic as possible. Before it hits the racks, each piece is professionally laundered.

“I’m such a romantic. That’s really what it is. That’s what it comes down to. And to be able to breathe life into these garments, these physical manifestations of history, is really amazing to me,” Leroux says. “And just making people happy.”

Says Gypsy customer Jessica Hewson, “It makes me feel like I just stepped through a time portal to the 1950s or ’60s. I love it, almost as much as I love shopping in my grandmother’s closet, where things are free!”

“If I could design a perfect place I wanted to go, this would probably be it,” jokes Leroux, gesturing around the shop. “It’s like, it’s a vintage store and there’s a record store in the basement and, oh, guess what? They have vegetarian food.”

Luxe, Calme et Volupté
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Nerdlesque: worshipping the geek gods

From the number of video games that Del Roba references in casual conversation, her Xbox gaming console must have provided marathons of dedicated play.

Now, that Xbox is shattered in pieces — smashed by Roba not as a result of a frustrating loss, but because she needed to wear it to her job.

Roba, whose real name is Frankie, is the founder of the Ottawa-based Browncoats Burlesque, a one-year-old burlesque troupe that celebrates fringe-culture enthusiasms in an onstage form of burlesque now burgeoning in North America called “nerdlesque.”  Browncoats Burlesque — a reference to the cult TV show Firefly — features acts with such nerdy themes as cult movies, comic books and video games (hence the costume composed of Xbox hardware).

Browncoats Burlesque
Geek chic. Ottawa’s Browncoats Burlesque troupe features Del Roba, top, and Foxie DeVille, second from left.

Browncoats Burlesque is one of several burlesque troupes across North America to showcase nerdlesque, but this quirky subgenre has grown in popularity only within the past two years.  One early notable troupe of this emergence was formed in 2008 under the name Nerdlesque to be a monthly burlesque series exploring nerd culture.  Since then, most major U.S. cities with a strong burlesque presence showcase nerdlesque acts, such as the Flaming Dames’ nerdlesque-themed show at Chicago’s New Millenium theatre company, or Skill Focus: Burlesque in Orlando, or Whedonesque Burlesque in Seattle.

For Roba, Browncoats Burlesque has been a labour of love.  The self-professed nerd says she had seen the Devil Dolls burlesque troupe in Ottawa and was inspired to create her own burlesque show, based on something she knew best.  And what what she knew best, she says, was nerd culture: video games, cult movies, science fiction series and other interests typically classified as “geeky.”

Conveniently, her first recruits for the show were friends from her live-action role-playing group, or LARP.  (LARP is an activity in which players create settings and characters and improvise scenes in a real-life setting, creating challenges for their characters not unlike storylines in video games.)

Dorks in short shorts

As risqué as burlesque is, the performance art attracts people with a variety of day jobs.  The performers with Browncoats Burlesque include workers for several branches of the government, a chef, and a neuroscience researcher.

A burlesque show can feature various sideshow performances, but the defining acts showcase performers — usually women — removing their clothes.  The main difference between burlesque dancers and other strippers is the tongue-in-cheek humour, which satirizes the sexualization of stripping.

Roba says that, friends and supporters aside, their audiences tend to span a variety of demographics.  She says that nerdlesque has a strong marketplace appeal.

“Nerdlesque is definitely something I think people can get behind. I find people are more able to relate to the performances than with some other styles of burlesque,” she says. “Most people can feel for the awkward nerd just trying to be cool.  Nerdlesque, in many ways, is a form of ‘fan fiction’ amongst the many that make up ‘fanculture’. That equals an army of nerds that could possibly get behind nerdlesque.”

‘My influences are ballet and video games.’ — Foxie DeVille

Aside from group numbers, the members of Browncoats Burlesque write and choreograph their own acts.  Under the wide umbrella of “nerdiness,” the range of ideas seems unlimited.

You’ll find, for example, a fervent Batman fan parading as the villains Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, and an avid gamer pulled off a complicated ode to the computer game Tetris.  Performers say nerdlesque allows them to express and embrace the niche interests of their personal lives.

Foxie DeVille (who has asked to print her stage name to preserve her privacy) says she already had a background in burlesque before joining the Browncoats Burlesque.  The classically trained dancer lists-off a number of Hollywood influences that attracted her to more complicated choreography, such as a dance using large fans.  Despite her traditional training, she says she feels inspired by creative opportunities with the pop culture references.

“My influences are ballet and video games,” she says, noting the unusual marriage of the two hobbies.

At last Halloween’s show Freeks N Geeks, Roba performed a number based on the cult film Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, which she says she chose based on her passion for critically and commercially unsuccessful movies.  The emcees gave the audience red balls to throw at her during the performance, symbolizing a downpour of tomatoes from the film.  Though at first uncertain whether the audience would participate, she says that she was so impressed with the audience’s gusto in their throws that she cheerfully smiled and thanked the crowd when she was supposed to pretend she was dead.

“Audience interaction is pretty awesome,” says DeVille.  She says that although the audience doesn’t always understand the reference, they engage with the comedy and light-hearted nature of nerdlesque, more than with other burlesque shows.

Enthusiastic audience responses like these have encouraged the spread of nerdlesque troupes and individual acts, which in the United States now range from Seattle to New York City.  Montreal and Toronto feature individual nerdlesque acts, but Browncoats Burlesque is currently the only full-time, nerdlesque-only troupe in Canada.

Revenge of the nerds

NYC Nerdlesque
Software and hardware. New York City’s Nerdlesque boldly goes nude where no nerd has gone before.

Chris Chappell is a co-producer of the New York City–based troupe Nerdlesque, which is a joint venture between Sneaky Snake Productions and Captain Sharky’s Historical Gender Equality Reactualization.

Chappell says he suspects that the rise in nerdlesque groups across North America can be attributed partly to a general cultural shift.

“There’s this really complicated intersection of hipness and nerdiness,” says Chappell.  “There’s a mainstreaming of a lot of these [nerdy] things.”  In other words, “geek is chic”: It currently is trendy to celebrate the otherness of traditional nerd interests, and this new value is reflected onstage.

He says that in North America nerd pride is on the rise. “People have really incorporated that into their idea of culture.  And [nerd appeal in the arts] is happening organically as a result.”

Yet Chappell says there is a danger of not sufficiently honouring the original material from which nerdlesque troupes draw their references, indicating concern about taking away some of the substance of nerdy sources after they’ve hit the mainstream.  Still, he says nerdiness is a “vibrant trend and community,” and his troupe is proud to be a part of that.

For Browncoats Burlesque, whose acts have such personal significance to the performers, honouring the nerdy references is a priority.

Above all, though, the performers insist on one key component.

“Basically, we want everybody to have fun.  That’s all we’re really trying to do,” says Roba.

Even if it means smashing her prized Xbox for the show.

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CBC scores, with Battle of the Blades

The TV screen shows the lights lower in the Maple Leaf Gardens.

Two male skaters dressed in tuxes emerge onto the ice. They skate circles around each other in front of a cheering crowd. The camera cuts to a close-up of the performers’ feet as they stop in unison — one is wearing hockey skates, the other, figure skates. Hosts Ron MacLean and Kurt Browning know how to get the crowd going.


Battle of the Blades pairs retired NHL greats with sweetheart championship figure skaters (here, Marie-France Dubreuil and Stéphane Richer), to create a truly Canadian reality show.

And so it begins.

Battle of the Blades, Canada’s latest attempt at reality-show success, takes hockey tough guys, pairs them with figure skating sweethearts and has them churn out weekly ice dance routines on live television.

The eight couples are judged after each Sunday night performance show using traditional figure-skating scoring by former skating champions and choreographers — with a little help from legendary Canadians like Lanny McDonald and Don Cherry. Viewers cast votes for their favourite couples, and on Monday nights one pair is eliminated from the show.

The simplicity of the concept is almost laughable.

There’s no way people will watch this, right? Imagine hockey fans calling the guys over for a game night that involves pizza, beer and Claude Lemieux in tight pants. Or lifelong figure skating devotees envying the grace and style of an aging hockey player’s death spiral.

Well, judging by the ratings, it isn’t that unrealistic. An average of 1.5 million viewers tune in to the show weekly. So what is it about this show that has Canucks glued to their television screens week after week?

It’s all in our image

The show is quintessentially Canadian, and we can’t get enough.

“It fits with the image of Canada which is all about hockey, figure skating, Tim Hortons, kids skating on a frozen pond in the winter, Ron MacLean’s terrible puns, and Stephen Harper wearing a sweater,” says John Doyle, television critic for the Globe and Mail.

The show has nation-wide appeal because it hits on elements of Canadian culture that everyone can identify with, he says.

Millions of Canadians have connections to hockey and figure skating in one way or another. And in a star system that has more sports figures than actors, the mass appeal is obvious.

“Before it premiered, I said I’d eat my skates if Canadians didn’t eat up a hockey and figure skating competition reality show,” says Diane Wild, contributor to the blog TV Eh?, an information portal for Canadian television shows.

Wild describes Battle of the Blades as being the perfect fit of audience and content. There is just something fun about seeing the worlds of hockey and figure skating collide, she says.


Host Ron MacLean prepares to eliminate one pair on the Blades finale. Salé and Simpson (in black) eventually came out on top.

The Canadiana concept certainly draws in the audiences, but to keep them there, the show needs to entertain, says Denis McGrath, a television writer who has written episodes for Canadian shows like The Border and Rent-A-Goalie. He says Canadian television is often guilty of preaching to its audience.

“You mix in the familiar reality competition format which we’re all used to by now, and figure skating. And then you add the surprising — how will these hockey players and figure skaters mix and work together?” he says.

This combination is undeniably entertaining. You see retired tough guys wearing flashy costumes, Continue reading “CBC scores, with Battle of the Blades”

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Turning Japanese: Ottawa’s karaoke fever

Draped in blue velvet, China Doll clutches the microphone with three fingers and the natural grace of a woman. Watching those hips gyrate to the beat, the audience almost forgets about his five o’clock shadow. His ring finger is appropriately sporting a fake diamond ring the size of a golf ball and, like a true diva, he flutters it through the air as he hits the high notes.

“Love, love will keep us together. Think of me baby whenever” — China Doll belts out as he prances around the room — “some sweet talking whore comes along, singing her song.” The audience giggles wildly as he ad-libs “whore” for “girl,” and erupts again when he assures the woman in the front row that he isn’t talking about her. It’s a version of the classic Captain and Tennille song that you’ll never hear on the radio, but one you might catch at Ottawa’s Shanghai restaurant on a Saturday night.


China Doll sparkles on Saturday nights at the Shanghai.

China Doll, known offstage as Edward Kwan, is the magnetic force that brings vocals-craving crowds to the little restaurant on Somerset Street. The family-owned business has been a community hot spot since the 1970s but has recently gained attention for wild karaoke nights hosted by Kwan’s alter ego. The image of his face is spray-painted on the side of the building, and inside you’ll either find him cooking egg rolls in the kitchen or singing in drag.

Newcomers leave vowing to return next week and regulars wonder why he doesn’t ad-lib “karaoke” for “love” instead. Love doesn’t always keep people together, nor does it keep restaurants in business, but karaoke might.

The Japanese tradition of karaoke has been popular in Western culture since the 1980s, but it’s no longer reserved for gloomy watering holes. In Canada and elsewhere, mainstream bars are now using karaoke to battle slow weeknights and economic slumps.

And apparently it’s working; according to the Performing Right Society, karoke revenues increased by 10 percent during the thick of the 2008-2009 recession.

In Ottawa, karaoke bars are packed from Monday to Sunday, with the Shanghai exceeding its 70 seat capacity almost every Saturday night. If you plan on showing up after 10 p.m., be prepared to stand in the doorway to catch a glimpse of the action. In typical karaoke fashion, little white pieces of paper are delivered to the DJ booth, and singers are called up to try their luck in front of a glowing screen. Some performances seem overly practised, while others require vocal assistance from the audience.

‘The truth is, karaoke is not about being good.’ – karaoke impresario Edward Kwan

As Kwan throws in commentary, he proves to be his own bizarre version of Simon Cowell. After a man in a suit performs a technically perfect performance of Boston’s “More Than a Feeling,” he rolls his eyes.

“The bad singers are more entertaining,” he says quietly as he covers his microphone. “We have Canadian Idol rejects that come in here and think they’re really good. The truth is, karaoke is not about being good.”

Kwan is wearing a curly black wig, white feather boa and pink framed glasses. He developed his feminine persona after volunteering to throw on a wig and sing at a private karaoke party. Ever since, the restaurant’s karaoke nights and China Doll’s outlandish outfits have been a celebrated attraction.

“It’s a total bonding experience,” says Kwan as he walks to the front of the restaurant. “Let me get that for you, honey,” he croons as he opens the door for a woman, who enters grinning uneasily. Kwan puckers his silver tinted lips and adjusts his wig. “Some people come in here looking so shocked. I just tell them to shut their jaw. When you step in here, you’re not in Ottawa anymore. You have to expect the unexpected.”


Performers at the Shanghai: free to do badly or well.

The Duet

At Carleton University, karaoke has turned a typically low-key graduate student bar and a slow Tuesday night into a midweek diversion.

“When we first started coming here, Mike’s Place was dead on a Tuesday. Through word of mouth, it went from five people to this,” says Carleton alumnus Justin Samlal as he gestures around the room. Tables are filled with people hunched over song binders and sipping beer, trying to gain some liquid courage to perform.

People can sing sometimes poorly, often ridiculously, with no social consequence.

Host Kristin Marand sits behind the equipment, watching the action. Asked about karaoke’s appeal, she replies with a shrug. “It’s the next level of singing in the shower. People jump at the chance to have an audience and let loose. It’s all about having an outlet. You can be awful and it doesn’t matter, it’s karaoke!”

In a world where cheers will follow just about any performance, people can sing sometimes poorly, often ridiculously, with no social consequence. This fun, supportive atmosphere is what keeps people coming back.

Samlal and friend Jacob Campbell have been coming to Mike’s Place karaoke every Tuesday for four years.

“I used to purposely avoid scheduling class on Wednesday mornings, and now I purposely avoid scheduling work meetings that day,” says Campbell.


Sara Edwards embraces the moment in a heartfelt performance.

They perform as a duo, and will begin tonight with a choreographed repertoire of Bloodhound Gang’s “The Bad Touch”. As they get up for their turn, about ten people follow suit; everyone seems to know the hip-thrusting dance by heart. Their university days may be over, but karaoke keeps the bond strong.

The Soloist

For those seeking a romantic partner, the spotlight can be the perfect place to meet someone. Danni Plume has introduced karaoke to more than a dozen regular venues in Ottawa with her and her husband’s traveling karaoke show, Dog and Pony Sound. From the Royal Oak to the Lookout, Plume attributes busy karaoke nights to what she calls “the lonely hearts club” factor.

“Typically the people who come out here are looking for something. At gay bars, it’s very cute. The boys get up and basically market themselves to the room,” she says. “When they’re finished singing, there’s usually someone waiting to buy them a drink.”

Plume says she has combined her love of karaoke with a psychology degree to bring karaoke therapy to the capital. Karaoke can help people overcome fears of public speaking, especially in a relaxed bar environment with audience and host encouragement, she says.

“I was hooked after my first song. I enjoyed the exhilaration of stepping out of my shell. I enjoyed challenging myself. I enjoyed the camaraderie. Everyone supports each other.”

Karaoke’s popularity is a product of the people: both the performers and the audience, the fuel and the fire. Outside of lecture halls and cubical walls, karaoke offers a judgment-free atmosphere where anything goes. One man got so comfortable at the Shanghai one Saturday night, he took off all his clothes during his solo. We can only hope that that doesn’t mark the opening of a new Chippendales.  But racy nights like those are getting Ottawans to strip off their apprehensions and shine.


Amy O’Neal and friends at the Speak and Sing

Who wants 15 seconds of fame when you can have three and a half minutes? You may not know the words, you may have forgotten the tune, but if you can pretend, you can karaoke.


Related Links

Society of Composers, Authors and Music Publishers of Canada

Performing Right Society for Music


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The healthy balance at Ottawa’s artist-run galleries

Visitors to SAW Gallery in downtown Ottawa won’t be greeted by a front-desk host or a tour guide in uniform.

Instead, they’ll be confronted by a naked goddess, 12 feet tall, made of felt and plush, complete with emphatic pubic hair. She’s standing on a latch-hook rug, and her head almost disappears into the gallery’s exposed ceiling. She looks like the idol in some crazy version of an ancient Greek temple.

Apparently, this isn’t a traditional art gallery.

SAW is only one of two artist-run galleries in Ottawa, along with Gallery 101 at Bank Street near Somerset. Artist-run centres, which have been operating in Canada since the 1970s, have by definition a board of directors containing a majority of artists. According to Daniel Roy, Director of the Artist-Run Centres and Collectives Conference of Canada, the spirit of the artist-run centre runs far deeper than that.

What’s important, he says, is “the way these places work and what they do with the services they provide to artists.” What they provide is freedom.

“Artists working in an artist-run-centre context have much more freedom to do what they want to do than those who are working at a bigger institution,” he says.


Guardian spirit: the goddess at SAW Gallery on Nicholas Street.

Unlike commercial and public galleries, artist-run spaces do not depend on selling exhibited works or tickets to make a profit. Instead, they run as not-for-profit institutions, relying on operational and project grants, memberships and fundraising.

And it’s all controlled by artists.

Money matters

“I’m shocked when I hear this misconception that artists don’t know how to manage money,” says Roy. He says that artist-run centres are proof positive that “artists are the best to manage money because they have so little that they have to work with what they have.”

Pat Durr has been creating art in Ottawa for over 30 years, and says that she too has encountered the notion that artists are bad at business.

“We’re not a bunch of artsy-fartsy, inept people just dancing around and looking for inspiration,” she says. “Any artist that has to stay alive and functioning over any period of time has got to learn to be a decent businessperson.”

Durr says that artist-run centres can be seen as one solution to one of the biggest problems facing Ottawa-area artists — a lack of exhibition space.

“If you can’t find places to start exhibiting, then it’s very hard to find a clientele who can support you,” she says. She says that artist-run centres provide a different service than other galleries “because the people running artist-run centres are artists, and they understand the issues and the problems we face.”

Because artists are in control of how the art is presented, says Stefan St-Laurent, curator at SAW Gallery, they can identify with the exhibiting artists and present them as well as possible.

“Public galleries have a lot of pressure to perform, sell tickets and try to organize blockbuster exhibitions,” he says. “Instead, we really want to show the artist today without any censorship whatsoever.”

‘We’re not a bunch of artsy-fartsy, inept people. Any artist that has to stay alive has got to learn to be a decent businessperson.’
— artist Pat Durr

St-Laurent says that his curatorial experience would be completely different if he was at another sort of gallery, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“If I would be working at a public art gallery, I would probably encounter a lot of obstacles,” he says. “I’ve never been told I can’t do something because it’s contentious or potentially controversial.”

St-Laurent also says he has a love for the off-beat, which often goes ignored in traditional galleries. For instance, in 2003 St-Laurent curated an exhibition called Scatalogue, featuring all things fecal, and told the Canadian Press that he was excited to break art’s “last remaining taboo.”

Granting and raving

The artistic freedom of artist-run centres has allowed St-Laurent to bring shows like Scatalogue to SAW, but it comes at a price. Artist-run centres rely on funding from federal, provincial and municipal organizations like the Canada Council — curators’ and administrators’ estimates range from 20 to 75 per cent of operating costs — and they need to be accountable. Scatalogue, for instance, was called a waste of taxpayers’ money by a Canadian Alliance MP when it premiered in 2003.

Leanne L’Hirondelle, the director and curator at Gallery 101, says that she always remembers that she is “beholden to [her] funders.”

Even so, L’Hirondelle has brought cutting-edge shows to Gallery 101. Recently, she exhibited works by First Nations artist Roger Crait, featuring brightly coloured metropolitan landscapes literally exploding — a highly controversial view of the First Nations experience.


Shopping for art at a SAW fundraiser.

Gordon Hatt, who runs the Contemporary Art Forum in Kitchener, says he also keeps his money in mind. “Each funder has a different point of view and different interests,” he says. Even so, the vast majority of provincial and federal grants are peer reviewed — the organization’s eligibility for funding is determined by other arts administrators — and Hatt says he knows he is in good hands.

“If we think [a show] is really good, then we’re pretty sure that our colleagues at other organizations think it’s a good thing, too,” he says. “Then we know that we’ve got our act together and will be reasonably well supported by the peer-reviewed councils.”

Both SAW and Gallery 101 supplement their government funding with other initiatives. They host fundraisers and sell memberships, and “have things that make me really tired, like we rent out our space to groups and events,” says L’Hirondelle. “It makes for a lot of long days sometimes, but it helps.”

Present tense

These fundraising efforts might help, say both St-Laurent and L’Hirondelle, but they’re just not enough.

The question comes down to funding. Gallery 101 can’t fix Ottawa’s lack of exhibition space on its own, says L’Hirondelle, because it faces the same pressures.

“I don’t think we can totally fix all of the problems because we’re limited by the same things that are limiting the artists,” she says. “If you look at how many submissions we get per year and how much space we actually have, your chances as an artist of getting art in an artist-run centre are pretty small.” She estimates that fewer than 10 per cent of the submissions received end up in a gallery.


Gallery 101’s minimalist space on Bank Street, downtown.

Like the artists themselves, Ottawa’s artist-run centres are suffering from a lack of exhibition space. SAW has been in Ottawa for over 35 years, and Gallery 101 recently turned 30, but their spaces seem to be getting smaller and smaller, says L’Hirondelle. SAW is located in what St-Laurent calls “a glorified basement with exposed ceilings,” under the Mackenzie King Bridge, and Gallery 101 is in a loft-apartment-sized space on Bank Street.

Even so, these galleries play a vital role in the Ottawa’s arts community. Peter Honeywell, executive director of the Council for the Arts in Ottawa, says that artist-run centres provide a youthful glimpse into Ottawa’s art scene.

“The fact that those galleries have been able to stay for 30 or 40 years shows that they’re obviously finding a clientele,” he says. “It’s fantastic that we’re starting to see a younger market exploring what’s available through their own artists in their own community.”

Artist-run centres, says Honeywell, are constantly “balancing the needs of the artist…their artistic goals…and that they have the income to make the space work.”

According to Roy, it’s this sense of balance that ensures that artist-run centres are an “important complement to the visual arts in Canada.”

“It’s all part of a delicate ecosystem,” he says. “We all have a spot in this ecosystem and every spot is important, [but] artists are in the best place to know what is good for them.”

Related Links:

Gallery 101

SAW Gallery

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To make your film, just wager all you own

There are those who might think Will Inrig’s struggle to get his latest project off the ground has to do with his age. He is, after all, the youngest filmmaker to ever have a feature project green-lighted by the National Film Board.

To judge Inrig on his youth alone would be to do him a disservice. The Ottawa-based 18 year old is hardly inexperienced in his craft; he has achieved more already than many will in their lifetimes. He directed his first feature-length documentary at 15 and was only 17 when he took home the top prize for high-school animation at the 2008 Ottawa International Animation Festival.


Inrig’s stop-motion film, The Depose of Bolskivoi Hovhannes, won a top prize at the 2008 Ottawa International Animation festival.

Inrig now finds himself facing his first professional roadblock. Production of his latest documentary feature — The Fantastic Ballet of the Mind and its Master, about the adult autistic mind and a little-studied phenomenon called “autistic fantasy” — has ground to a halt.

The troubles plaguing the production of the documentary are not the fault of its director. Rather, they are the result of a financially unstable cultural environment in Canada, one that’s hesitant to take a chance on emerging directorial talent. Those who are making movies are often doing so at great financial risk.

A passion deferred

The Fantastic Ballet of the Mind and its Master is a highly personal project for Inrig; his younger brother Ben is autistic.

It’s Ben who is featured in the doc’s opening scene. He stands up to his shoulders in the rushing waves of Lake Ontario at Sandbanks Provincial Park at sunset, his arms outstretched and his face rapturous, eyes fixed on something the audience can’t see.

“You look at his face and you realize that he’s not here,” Inrig said, voice cracking with emotion. “He’s somewhere else. But you look into his eyes and it’s just divine ecstasy. And there’s something quite beautiful in that, and there’s also something quite tragic. And that’s what I have to make a movie about.”


Inrig filming the opening scene of The Fantastic Ballet of the Mind and its Master at Sandbanks Provincial Park.

After receiving enough financial help from the NFB (largely in the form of access to post-production facilities) to produce a demo reel for the film, Inrig has found himself with neither the funds nor facilities needed to continue filming.

A national problem

Adam Symansky, an Oscar-winning producer with the Board and Inrig’s mentor, said the NFB has done everything it can to start Inrig off financially, but the next step is his to take.

“If we can help Will, it would be the sort of thing that the Board should be doing,” he said. “Whether we’ll be able to or not is still up for discussion.”

‘The project is excellent, the rest is going to come. I’ve lived my whole life with people with mental disabilities. What I’m quite positive I can do is bring people into that world; I can show them the soul of these autistics, their gentleness, nobility, dignity.’ — Will Inrig

For the moment, Symansky said, the Board can afford no more investment until Inrig starts on-location filming at an institution for autistic adults. This, however, would require more capital, leaving Inrig stuck in pre-production limbo.

The basic problem is that Canada’s national audio-visual producer has taken a series of financial hits in the past two decades. In 1996 the Board suffered a 32% cut to its operating budget, leading to job cuts and the permanent closure of one of its studios, dedicated to production by female filmmakers; since the early 2000s the Board has experienced a series of smaller budget cuts; today only one of its two Montreal headquarter buildings is in use.

According to the Board’s 2008–2009 to 2012–2013 mandate, “the constant erosion of the organization’s […] power results in a constant reduction of its capacity to deliver value to Canadians.”

The NFB isn’t the only Canadian cultural institution strapped for cash. Between 2006 and 2008 the Conservative government cut $45 million of arts and culture funding, an issue that figured prominently in the country’s 2008 election.

Inrig has approached virtually every major broadcaster and distributor in the country for capital, but the fact is that his project is risky.

Even if he does succeed in making Ballet the way he wants to, it’s obviously not a film destined to break box office records. During this time of economic duress, risky investment doesn’t seem to be in the cards. The response from potential investors has been always the same.

“Ballet looks like a unique and very ambitious film,” said distributor Kino International in a letter to Inrig. “We are interested in following the progress of your production and would like to see it upon completion.”

“We feel that Will’s film [. . .] will touch a wide audience of filmgoers who are looking for something compelling, and different,” documentary distributor Zeitgeist Films echoed. “We intend to view the film when it is finished and will strongly consider its potential for theatrical distribution at that time.”

Apart from small donations here and there — a corporate sponsorship from TELUS, a grant from the Ontario Arts Council and personal donations from Inrig’s high-school principal and from Global TV anchor Kevin Newman — no one seems willing to take the plunge and invest fully in the making of Inrig’s film.

So what does it take for an emerging filmmaker to make a movie in Canada these days? If Inrig, with all his potential, has stood for so long at a production standstill, what hope is there in Canada for other new filmmakers?

A risky solution

Two thousand and nine was Xavier Dolan’s year. The 20-year-old Quebecois actor aced first the Cannes Film Festival, where he took away a prize for outstanding new director, and then the Toronto International Film Festival, where his directorial debut, J’ai tué ma mère (“I killed my mother”), was well received by the public. In addition, the film was picked up by domestic distributor K Films Amérique and will be distributed theatrically and on DVD in the United States by Here Films in 2010.

The similarities between Dolan’s and Inrig’s films and between the filmmakers themselves are numerous. Like Inrig, Dolan drew on highly personal subject matter for inspiration. J’ai tué ma mère, which Dolan also wrote and starred in, is an autobiographical examination of a gay teenager’s rocky relationship with his infuriatingly kitschy mother.


A scene from director Xavier Dolan’s acclaimed J’ai tué ma mère. Dolan put his life savings on the line to make the film.

“I wrote the screenplay to evacuate things, with mostly a cathartic intention,” he explained. “But then a friend read the project and told me that it should be a movie, rather than a little diary for myself.”

Like Inrig, Dolan has an intimate understanding of Canada’s entertainment industry, having acted throughout his childhood in Québécois films and television programs. Dolan too approached many potential investors with his film’s script, which he wrote when he was 17.

After submitting the project to the “usual funding agencies” and being rejected by all, Dolan took matters into his own hands. He was lucky enough to have saved over $100,000 from his acting career, and used those savings to bring his script to life. It was a huge risk, one with no guaranteed reward.

“The distributor and the producer associated with the project just backed out,” Dolan explained. “They had all the documents and papers ready, but it didn’t work out and they couldn’t do it with their own money because we just don’t have producers or directors putting their house on mortgage to save movies. But I had the urgency to do the movie. I paid for the movie myself. That was the base, all I had to start the movie.”

‘I paid for the movie myself. That was the base, all I had to start the movie.’ — filmmaker Xavier Dolan

Eventually, once production of the film was underway, Dolan resubmitted a proposal to Telefilm Canada, and the agency came on board to carry the film through to completion. Without their financial aid, it’s doubtful the film would have been completed, but it took Dolan accepting the initial risk to coax the cultural agency to step forward.

The cultural cost?

According to Roch Brunette, manager of the Ottawa-Gatineau Film and Television Development Corporation, aspiring filmmakers like Dolan and Inrig can’t rely on traditional organizations to make movies anymore. Independent filmmaking has never been an easy career choice, he explained, but now the artists who succeed will be those willing to risk everything to have their voice heard.

“There is money in this business regardless of what people are saying,” he insisted. “Broadcasters are putting a lot of projects on hold because they’re waiting on God knows what, but in the meantime directors like Will have to go forward with their projects.”

“Going forward” with no guarantees comes with the possibility of failure. But there is greater risk here than just to individual artists. What of the cultural cost?

The NFB has been publicly and federally criticized for being out of touch with what modern Canadian audiences want and are willing to pay to see. It’s not unaware of these criticisms and addresses them in its mandate, as well.

The NFB’s vision for the next three years is “[t]o ensure that [it] remains a vibrant cultural institution, necessary, relevant and vital.” The mandate is littered with words like “creative,” “emerging talent” and “challenging subject matter.”

Inrig and his documentary seem to be a manifestation of the sort of production even the NFB knows it needs, to survive cuts and losses; but he remains stuck in a financial quagmire. There is the very real possibility that his passion for his subject matter will never be put to film. And, had Dolan been unwilling to put his life’s savings on the line, it’s possible that his vision would have been ignored by Canada’s cultural funding agencies. How can the Canadian film industry hope to compete with the cinematic giant that is Hollywood if new cinematic voices are being silenced before they’re ever heard?

Running on a latte and a prayer

Inrig doesn’t have savings like Dolan’s to fall back on. He can’t afford that sort of risk. All that remains is his passion for Ballet and his belief that it should be made.

“The project is excellent, the rest is going to come,” he said confidently. “I’ve lived my whole life with people with mental disabilities. What I’m quite positive I can do is bring people into that world; I can show them the soul of these autistics, and their gentleness and their nobility, their dignity. These are some of the most dignified people I’ve ever met.”

The question then becomes not how an emerging filmmaker can hope to make a movie in Canada in the current economic climate, but rather, who has the drive to?

Related Links

National Film Board’s official website

Video of Will Inrig’s The Depose of Bolskivoi Hovhannes

Official trailer for Xavier Dolan’s J’ai tué ma mère

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Ottawa dance gets fresh

Ottawa is full of vibrant dance schools, but the city is more known for technical training than innovation.

It used to be that every little girl in dance dreamed of being a ballerina, with a pink tutu and pink point shoes. But recently, television changed the game.

The dream, inspired by popular shows like So You Think You Can Dance, has evolved to include new styles, new aspirations and a new knowledge of dance.


Not strictly ballroom: Capital City Dance teachers’ various styles.

Ottawa’s  dance education community is playing catch-up. Along with various schools looking at providing new courses, a whole new school has just arrived in town that promises to deliver more of what television audiences — including Ottawa students and parents — are looking for.

A new school

Capital City Dance opened in Westgate mall last September. At the helm of this new endeavour are Gabriel Wolinksy and Michael Falcucci. Their aim is to bring “the best of everything to Ottawa.”

“We are a new studio, and dance has changed so much in the last five years; it’s been very commercial, styles have changed, and we’ve been a part of that,” says Falcucci.

Both Falcucci and Wolinsky trained at Greta Leeming Studio of Dance, and left Ottawa to pursue careers as professional dancers. Since then, they have kept busy with shows like Cats, We Will Rock You, Oliver and Hello Dolly, and they danced together in the national Broadway tour of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. They have experienced what bigger cities like Toronto offer in terms of classes, workshops and styles, and they are bringing that to Ottawa.

“We are a new studio, and dance has changed so much in the last five years, and we’ve been a part of that.” — Michael Falcucci, Capital City Dance school

“I feel like [Ottawa is] known as having good technical dancers out there. I want people to realize that Ottawa also has creative people, people that can really step outside the box and can make a difference in dance in general,” says Falcucci. “I think people here have the ability to do so. We are just wanting to give them the tools to realize that.”

New styles — like contemporary, zumba, ballroom and step dancing — aren’t the only tools that Capital City Dance provides. It also has a stronger focus on workshops, which bring dance professionals from other cities to Ottawa.

“Bringing people who have worked with Michael Jackson and amazing choreographers from all over the world to Ottawa is just giving a dancer another tool, an extra edge,” says Wolinsky.

For the first time in Ottawa, that “edge” is in demand.

The television effect

“So You Think You Can Dance has been huge for dance in general just because it is putting it on a main stage and exposing dance in a way that it never really has been before,” says Brianna Rowan, who has been dancing at the Canadian School of Dance for the past 18 years.

Tami-Lynn Caloia, co-director of Greta Leeming Studio of Dance, agrees. She has been teaching in Ottawa for 24 years and says that popularity of dance has risen and parents are more aware than ever of what makes a good dancer.

“They want to make sure that their kids are getting what they should be getting, whereas before I think parents kind of just dropped their kids at the door,” she says.


A Capital City Dance chalkboard shows the school’s range.

Greta Leeming, too, is looking at implementing new styles in its curriculum. The school did workshops of new styles in its summer program, says Caloia. Latin dance, ballroom and disco all proved to be popular with students.

“You have to keep current,” she says. “For me, I have to watch all those shows, go to conventions and learn from my graduates that have left and come back.”

Caloia says that while the new styles are getting more popular, it is still essential to be true to basic training and to proper teaching, as well.

It’s hard for dancers in Ottawa, adds Caloia, because in order to pursue a professional dance career after high school, you have to move to Toronto.

But for those who are learning in the capital city, Ottawa is developing more options.

In the past year, Rowan’s younger sister, Mallory, who trains at the Canadian School of Dance, has embraced those new opportunities. She has joined hiphop troupes Future Shock and dTALE, participates in workshops at other studios and takes classes at Capital City Dance.

Mallory Rowan says that it’s not just the teachers but the students who have to make the effort to branch out.

“In Ottawa, a lot of people tend to complain that there are not enough classes they can take.  But the thing is when people are with a studio or with a crew, sometimes they don’t branch out and then they don’t realize that there are classes like this.”

New styles, new options

With dance being as popular as it is, there is a unique opportunity for Ottawa dance students to grow.

“Everybody, no matter who they are, brings something different with respect to choreography, how they train you,” says Caloia. “I think for a dancer, you just soak it in and you can apply that to your regular dancing. I think the exposure to different things makes you better.”

That open attitude is exactly what Ottawa needs, and what Capital City Dance hopes to thrive on. Wolinsky explains that “you can’t always stay in the box: if you stay in the box you are only going to grow as big as a box. So you have to step out of that and you have to learn new things.”


Related Links

Capital City Dance Website

Greta Leeming Studio of Dance Website

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Record labels, who needs ’em? Young musicians market online

Sign up. Log in. Entering the world of MySpace is overwhelming at first. Everyone wants you to add her or him as a friend. Everyone wants to see who you are and why you are there. Then, there it is — the brilliance behind these social networking websites — flashing from different sides of the screen. “Are you a musician? Click here.” “Record, upload and share videos? Click here.” New artists quickly realize that the tools to broadcast and promote themselves are a click away.


Emerging artists are using online utilities to do what record execs used to: launch a career.

This trend of online music promotion invites the question — what happened to young artists wanting desperately the attention of a major record label? It seems nowadays all it takes is an online-savvy musician to set up a MySpace, Facebook, Twitter or YouTube account to reach a fan base. It seems the idea of the man in the suit sitting in the back of a smoky local bar, waiting to sign the unknown artist, is something of the past.

“It’s extreme at this point in time,” says Jason Feinberg, founder of On Target Media Group (OTMG), a digital music-marketing firm. “Most record labels are starting to realize they are no longer in the business of breaking music.”

Feinberg — whose company has a shiny list of campaigns that include Steve Vai, Van Morrison and Ringo Starr — helps already established musicians reach out to their fan base through online and digital engagement. He admits he would be reluctant to take money from a new artist, when artists can do the initial campaigning themselves online.

“The artist is in control now,” says Feinberg. “They can have a homepage, get on the core social networks and maintain a stream of content to their fans. They have the ability to share.”

Meredith Luce, an independent local musician who has been playing in Ottawa for almost six years, says she has remained unsigned because labels are generally “cliquey” and fixed on branding an artist’s identity. As an alternative, Luce is active in promoting herself online. Not only does she have live footage, photos and music downloads posted on her MySpace and Facebook pages, but she also sells hard copies of her recordings through a digital distributor, CD Baby, the largest online distributor of independent music.

The Oregon-based CD Baby allows any musician above the age of 13 to join their database, and it all starts with what seems to be the most popular step towards early artist success — signing up as an online member.

Once the artist is a member, the online warehouse creates a page for the artist on its website, digitizes the artist’s music and album information, and makes the music available to the masses worldwide. The distributor proceeds to ship music to fans, as well as to other online music databases like iTunes and Rhapsody.

‘Now, record labels come into the picture later. If they see someone already has a really good online fan base, they’ll pick you up.’ — musician Meredith Luce

For one physical CD or vinyl sale, the website asks the musician for a $35 sign-up fee and then a $4 portion per album sale. CD Baby has over 1.6 million customers and pays over $111 million in royalties to artists yearly.

“It’s a huge network out there,” says Luce. “I get people from across the world stumbling upon and buying my two albums.”

So does this mean that emerging artists don’t need record labels anymore? Not exactly, says Luce.

“Now, it seems record labels come into the picture later. If they see someone who already has a really good online fan base and has put in the time and money to sell themselves, they’ll pick you up.”

Feinberg corroborates this point, saying that it is rare to have a new band catapult to success by signing a contract with a record label. He states that for a label, it no longer makes sense — from an investment and revenue standpoint — to take an unknown band and move them up the ranks.

“Once the band already has that consistent fan base and has sold music, a major record label can obviously turn up the heat very quickly for them,” says Feinberg.

Tony Sutherland, coordinator and professor at the school of music business management at Durham College in Oshawa, says that to have an unknown act become a runaway success completely on their own is rare, but many contemporary artists are following the online-then-label model. Vampire Weekend, Lights and Jamie Robinson are all examples of artists who did the digital work themselves and then were taken to the next level by the major label.


Meredith Luce has never been signed to a label; instead, she markets herself online.

“Success breeds success,” says Sutherland. “The industry will help to build a successful regional act to a national and an international force.”

According to Feinberg, the changing face of the industry is not settling well with record label executives. The major labels are hesitating to begin the significant shift from the traditional business model to one that is rooted in online talent discovery, networking and sales. In order for the major labels to re-enter the start-up scene and profit off unknown talent again, they need to integrate large online elements into their business models — because that is where the money is.

If the shift from traditional to digital does not happen soon, the labels could crash and burn, says Feinberg.

“The people at the top might have an idea in the back of their heads of what they need to do,” says Feinberg. “But as they sit there with their multimillion-dollar salaries, it seems they can’t help but reminisce about the good old days — they don’t want to let it go.”

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Ottawa poets hit a grand ‘slam’

The stage is set. The lone microphone stands in front of the red velvet curtains, visions of Ottawa’s Byward Market creeping in between the cracks of the drapes. The glittering disco ball hangs high above, its soft, shimmering lights bouncing off the surfaces of the room.

Rusty Priske steps onto the stage. His smiling face is encased by a substantial red beard and set off by a pair of thick, black-framed glasses. His huge boots and ample frame take charge of the small stage. He looks out into the room, and every pair of eyes is staring right back at him.


The audience has filled the Mercury Lounge’s small venue to the brim. People sit on chairs, tables, the floor, even other people. Everyone is welcome: young and old, suits and students, old favourites and first-time performers. The raucousness of the crowd falls into a single cry of “Raise it!” as all fists rise to the air and fall, into a dead silence of anticipation.

Rusty Priske
Burly bard: Rusty Priske performs at the Mercury Lounge.

Priske closes his eye, takes a step back from the microphone, and begins.

To many, the scene would announce a rock concert over a poetry reading. But this is the newest addition to Ottawa’s arts landscape: slam poetry.

Ottawa’s thriving slam poetry scene brings in audiences from all walks of life and consistently sells out shows. Each performer’s passion and individuality inspire a following. Crowds seem devoted to their favourite poets, and the art form flourishes by virtue of the sheer diversity of poets that Ottawa has to offer.

A slam is one part poetry reading, one part competition. But the host is always quick to remind the performers that “the points aren’t the point; the poetry is the point.”

There is room for 12 slam performers to sign up; each has three minutes to perform a poem. Five random audience members are chosen to be judges, and their scoring determines the evening’s winners. The five poets with the highest scores then move on to the next round. Those five poets then each perform again, and the judges determine the winner of the night.

The nightly winners’ scores are recorded, and at the end of the season the poets who had the five highest scores make up the team that represents Ottawa in the national slam competition at the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word. Last year, Ottawa took first place out of 11 teams from across Canada.

And Ottawa said… Let there be slam

Ottawa’s first show dedicated entirely to slam poetry was Capital Slam, which premiered in October 2004. Local poets Elissa Molino and Greg Frankson (who goes by the pen name Ritallin) started Capital Slam. It is now one of Canada’s longest-running poetry slam series.

Frankson says he began performing spoken word poetry in 2003 as a natural step from writing hip hop. “All music is, is poetry to a beat,” says Frankson. He says he was frustrated at having only one venue, The Gold Star Lounge at the African Palace, which would occasionally host poetry slams.

“We thought we could do a pure slam, and that would provide a place for people to practise and to get better,” says Frankson.

Frankson says the first few slams had fairly small crowds, but by the end of the first season they were selling out shows. What started as a monthly show now runs every two weeks because of slam’s popularity with both performers and audiences. Now, along with the Mercury Lounge, Umi Café also has an ongoing slam poetry series, and Avant-Garde Bar and Café Nostalgica have also hosted poetry slams.

‘Raise it!’ the crowd shouts. All fists rise and fall, into a dead silence of anticipation.

Local poet Rusty Priske is the slam master for this season of the Capital Slams. He organizes the slams, and irons out the fine details of making sure everything runs smoothly. Although he went to his first slam only a couple of years ago, he has already made a name for himself in Ottawa’s poetry scene and was part of Ottawa’s team that won at last year’s national competition.

“Right from the first show, I was hooked,” says Priske. He says he was just blown away by the poets he saw at his first slam: people like Steve Sauvé, John Akpata and Kevin Matthews. He says he was moved by what they were doing, but also saw that that connection with the audience was something he could achieve, too.

“I was just taken by what the possibilities were,” he says. “This is just cool.”

Priske says that the Ottawa scene is unusual because it maintains so many different styles. He says that sometimes he sees cities that get their own style, which is distinct and interesting but may influence the way new poets find their own voices. For example, he says, Montréal has a strong musical strain. But at any given Capital Slam show there is a mix of people — from classical poetry backgrounds and hip hop backgrounds, lyrical romantics and political activists

Frankson agrees. He says that the poets are varied, so they bring in varied audiences: “Young professionals, public servants sitting alongside the goths and the hippies. Everybody comes.” This diversity, Frankson says, is what keeps the scene strong and growing.

Greg Frankson
Greg “Ritallin” Frankson can stimulate audiences’ brains.

At the Capital Slams, performers seem mostly to fall between ages 25 and 40.  But the show is all ages; the audience consists of everyone, from teens to people who probably have teenaged grandchildren.

The long and the short of slam

The history of slam starts with Marc Kelly Smith and the Uptown Poetry Slam at the Green Mill in Chicago in the 1980s. It was all about trying something new, taking performance to the next level, having fun, but most of all was about opening up poetry to everyone. Smith says that at the time in Chicago, average poetry shows would draw in 15 people at most, and were “staid, formal, and really quite boring.”

Smith says, “The show’s always been a place where you can push the boundaries of what poetry was meant to be.” The stage of the Green Mill has been graced with everything from classical forms of poetry to group sketches to a 78-year-old woman reciting poetry while performing yoga exercises.

The name “slam poetry” came from Smith watching a Chicago Cubs game. The phrase “grand slam” kept coming up, which brought “slam dancing” to mind and all the energy and power that those ideas contain. He says he was also unsure about whether or not the shows would be a success, so he also liked the idea of calling them slams because “it could be a grand slam, or it could be that we’ll slam the door in your face.”

Since Smith’s first show, in 1984, slam has spread across North America and through Europe as well. Smith says that time and again, he sees people come to one of his slams and then go home and start their own shows that become immensely popular.

But a boys’ club?

Although there is always a level of diversity in the scene, Priske points to the lack of female poets coming to perform at the Ottawa slams. There are usually only one or two female participants per show of 12 performers or more.

Danielle K.L. Gregoire has been a poet in Ottawa for years and one of the first slam masters of Capital Slam. She now lives in Lanark County and organizes the Lanark County Live Poets Society (LiPS). She says there used to be more female performers in Ottawa, but recent seasons have seen fewer and fewer.

“It seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy,” says Gregoire. “The less we see ourselves represented on stage, the less likely women are to get up there.”

‘Young professionals, public servants sitting alongside the goths and hippies. Everybody comes.’ — poet Greg Frankson

Josie Frank just started performing slam poetry this year and says that although she has felt comfortable and safe entering the scene, there have been very few female role models. She says that this could be a result of the type of confessional poetry many women write.

“In my experience, the political poetry tends to receive higher scores, and not many female poets perform political pieces,” says Frank.

This male predominance notwithstanding, Ottawa’s slam poetry scene has grown exponentially.  Five years ago, local poets only had one monthly chance to perform; now there are usually eight or nine monthly opportunities to perform at different shows in the Ottawa area.  Poets from the original slams now run their own shows across town, and the inspiration from the old poets drives an influx of new poets.

“Our poets continue to flourish because of all those opportunities to practise and get better,” says Frankson.


Ottawa’s national slam team (from left: Brandon Wint, Komi Olafimihan, Ikenna Onyegbula, Rusty Priske, Ian Keteku).

A cycle of poetic inspiration

Apart from a Facebook group, the Capital Slam does no promotion. The shows sell out time after time from word of mouth. Priske says, “People know about it; they want it, and I don’t see an end to that.”

Karl Roth, 21, is a university student and a first-time audience member. He says he heard about slam through a friend and decided to sample a Mercury Lounge show.

“It was a great experience; I’ll definitely go back,” says Roth. Although he probably would never perform himself, he says he really enjoyed the show’s relaxed atmosphere and enjoyed the poetry more than he expected.

Priske says that it comes down to getting new people interested and new poets involved. “Once [somebody] goes to one, they walk away with that one thing that they remember,” he says.

The year 2010 promises to be an even bigger year for spoken word, as Ottawa has been chosen to host The Canadian Festival of Spoken Word. Ottawa’s new team will have to defend their title against competitors from all over the country.

But as Frankson says, “The future is bright.”

 

Related Links

Capital Slam Website

Marc Kelly Smith’s Website

Greg ‘Ritallin’ Frankson’s Website

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Dying for a tan? Teens and tanning in Ottawa

It was just supposed to be the one time. She never imagined she’d get hooked, but soon she needed a fix three, even four times a week.

At 15 (Lindsay Fagan says), she became, like many of her peers, a tanning addict.

“It was one of those feel-good things, and people noticed. I got compliments,” explains Fagan, now 21. “I was definitely a regular tanner. I’d almost say borderline obsessed.”

Fagan is one of many Canadians to have fallen in love with indoor tanning as a teen. In 2006, a survey by the Canadian Cancer Society found 27 per cent of females age 16 to 24 used tanning equipment, compared to 15 per cent of those age 25 to 44.


Beauty and the beast: at an Ottawa tanning salon.

Now a Carleton University student and a more moderate tanner, Fagan admits that, back in high school, fitting in was a huge motivation for constant visits to the salon.

“Everyone was doing it. They were all getting really nice tans, and it was really attractive,” she explains. “I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God, like I really want to do it.’”

Risky business

Fagan says she tanned excessively, spending hundreds of dollars, not an easy feat for a teenager earning minimum wage.

Did she ever worry about the risks?

“Not at all,” she says. “It didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t care. It was all about in the moment.”

Darcy MacLennan, owner of a popular Ottawa tanning salon, says she sees many teens hoping to achieve the look they admire on celebrities and their peers without being aware of the risks.

“Some teens, when they’re 15, don’t make the best judgment calls when it comes to their bodies and themselves,” she observes.

The risks are proven, but today’s teens seem willing to take their chances in order to achieve that perfect golden glow.

‘It’s like drinking. People are going to find a way to do it whether it’s against the law or not’ — Lindsay Fagan

According to the Canadian Dermatology Association, Canadians born in the 1990s are two-to-three times more likely to get skin cancer in their lifetime, compared with those born in the 1960s.

This summer, the World Health Organization labeled tanning beds as a definite cause of cancer in humans, upgraded to the same risk-level as tobacco and mustard gas.

The younger you are when you first tan or burn, the greater the risk. According to the report, tanners are 75 per cent more likely to develop skin cancer later in life if they start before age 30.

Despite such risks, MacLennan says tanning in a salon is the safest route for determined teen tanners.

“Kids, if they can’t tan indoors before the summer or before going on a trip, they go out in the sun and put on their baby oil and then they give themselves first, second, third degree burns,” she says.


Tanning lotion and protective eyewear are two safety measures many tanning salons mandate for their clients.

She says that salons with proper standards offer a safer, supervised tanning experience to those teens determined to tan, no matter what.

Legislating safety?

Parents play a key role in determining the fate of teen tanners. Fifteen is the minimum age for tanning in MacLennan’s salon, and parents must sign a waiver, giving them the final say.

But some feel that stronger measures are needed to advocate for the health and safety of Ottawa’s teenagers. In July 2009, following the Canadian Dermatology Association’s report about the risks of teen tanning, one city councillor proposed making it illegal for tanning salons to serve clients below age 18.

Alex Cullen, Bay Ward councillor, says while education is important, legislation is needed to regulate an activity that can have far-reaching consequences.

“We do want to use education. It informs people. But it’s not just a question of ‘Well, ok, I’m informed now, so I’m going to take an informed risk.’ We’re not only dealing with an impact of people’s health, but the cost to us as taxpayers dealing with those symptoms,” he explains. “It’s in the public interest to eliminate these very preventable risks to a very common form of cancer.”

In October, city council decided to scrap the ban, passing off the decision to the province, where similar legislation is under consideration. Cullen says he is disappointed by the decision but hopes there is room for change in the future.

Where there’s a will…

MacLennan says she feels that a ban would not deter teen tanners because it wouldn’t deal with the root cause. Teenagers will still crave the sun-kissed look and may turn to extreme, unsupervised tanning practices to get it.


Inviting though it seems, harsh tropical sunshine can often cause burns for unsupervised tanners, on vacation.

Citing her own experience, Fagan agrees that teens determined to tan would not be put off by a city-wide ban.

“I think it’s like drinking. People are going to find a way to do it whether it’s against the law or not,” she says. “We crossed the border to Hull when we were too young to drink here. There are places in Quebec that have tanning salons, too.”

She says that teens are motivated because tanning makes you feel good and is a convenient way to boost self-esteem and be “cool.”

“It’s a quick fix. You can’t go out and get liposuction, but you know you can go tanning and get that nice tanned look and feel better about yourself.”


Related links

The Canadian Cancer Society’s position on youth and artificial tanning

The World Health Organization’s 2009 Report


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Not Karsh’s Ottawa anymore: professional photographers face challenges in the capital


Paul Couvrette in his studio in downtown Ottawa.

For 35 years, Paul Couvrette has worked as an Ottawa-based photographer.

He has photographed every prime minister from Trudeau to Harper; his work has appeared on the covers of publications such as Time, Maclean’s and Ottawa Life. Yet today his traditional work-fare of weddings and family portraits provides just a quarter of his income, and Couvrette thanks government and corporate contracts for keeping him comfortable in an unsteady job market.

Professional photography has changed drastically recently, especially in Ottawa. Digital cameras and cell phones jammed with megapixels are replacing photographers everywhere, and young people trying to break into Ottawa’s scene are discovering they need more than just an artistic eye in order to succeed.

Couvrette says the average business life of a photographer in Ottawa has declined to a mere three or four years; having been a member of the Professional Photographers of Canada for over 20 years, Couvrette has seen countless photographers pass through the organization’s monthly meetings.  He admits that some amateut photgraphers have talent, but suggests they lack the dependability, experience and service outlook that established studios offer clients.

Like Couvrette, Dylan Blanchard and Stephen Harris understand that the capital isn’t the easiest place to establish a photography career. Blanchard, 21, and Harris, 26, are business partners in Studio 28 here.

“Ottawa’s not bad for getting a start, but having, say, a fashion career here is very hard. If you can get into the government, national corporations or non-profit organizations, then you’re laughing, so to speak,” Blanchard explains. “You can’t have more than what’s actually in Ottawa, that’s for sure.”

Less work to go around

According to Couvrette, the local marketplace has shrunk noticeably in the last three years. For example, weddings, once considered a guaranteed source of photographers’ income, are becoming unreliable.

“Weddings used to be profitable. They were the bread and butter of my business for many years. These days, unfortunately, if they even hire one, people have decided they simply want photographers to shoot the digital files, and let them make their own albums on Facebook, or I don’t know what,” says Couvrette.

He explains that his studio makes the same amount of money from weddings as it did three years ago, but he has to shoot 30 per cent more events to compensate for clients lost to the digital world. The studio’s clients spend anywhere between $500 and $15,000 on their wedding photos. For other income, Couvrette has come to rely on corporate and government clients – for example, in his current project, shooting recycling plants for Waste Management Canada’s annual report.

Futhermore, the digital wave that’s putting a rainbow of miniature cameras on the shelves is giving consumers the impression that they too can be “real” photographers. Many fail to see the point in hiring a professional at all.

Even weddings, once considered a guaranteed source of photographers’ income, are becoming unreliable.

Still, there seems still to be a niche for young and inexpensive photographers to try their luck here. Ottawa Start, an online business hub that provides links to local photographers, lists over 200 active photographers in the city.

Amna Hakim, whose website is one of the many located on the Ottawa Start page, had a full-time job with a financial software company when she started taking pictures as a hobby. A friend throwing a low-budget event asked Hakim if she would be the photographer, since she was attending anyway. It was a success, so Hakim decided to put together a website and start promoting herself as a professional photographer.

“From there it got bigger and I’ve spent no money on marketing or advertising. I had a really strong network of people,” she says. “Word of mouth is very powerful.”

Hakim suddenly found herself with two full-time careers and knew which one to keep.

“I did what felt right and decided to pursue my dreams of becoming a photographer. It allows me to express myself as an individual.”


Today, Couvrette has to shoot 30 per cent more weddings than before, to compensate for other business lost.

Hakim focuses the majority of her professional work on what her website refers to as “international wedding and lifestyle portrait” photography. On average each year, she shoots around 50 weddings and just short of 200 portraits. Hakim’s wedding packages start at $2500, though she suggests that her clients often spend up to $6000 on their events.

Hakim says her previous work trained her to pay attention to details and numbers.  But not everyone has a business background. Couvrette suggests that many young photographers either don’t know their commerce basics, or simply aren’t involved enough in operating their business beyond the artistic aspects. He believes that the ease and availability of the digital frontier may be attracting young people who lack the needed business savvy.

“Many people come out of colleges with really big dreams, and unfortunately a few years of photography classes can’t teach you how to make it in this industry,” he argues. “Colleges don’t spend nearly enough time on business training.”

Business sense: mandatory

Claire Dodge, 19, is in her last semester of photography at Algonquin College in Ottawa. She says though the program does focus heavily on the technical skills of photography, the degree offers courses in communications, business studies and entrepreneurship.

“A lot of the time things just come up in other classes naturally. There isn’t always specific class time dedicated to the business-related aspects of being a photographer,” says Dodge.

Algonquin’s website describes the entrepreneurship course as designed specifically for students who wish to be self-employed. Its topics include quoting projects, hiring professional models and dealing with copyright issues and small claims court.


Typical of Hakim’s work: a bride’s hand covered in henna at a traditional Indian wedding.

Still, learning through experience may have its own benefits. Since moving here from Prince Edward Island, Blanchard and Harris have discovered how to capitalize on living in Ottawa. They are currently producing a calendar to support Candlelighters, a nonprofit organization that supports children with cancer and their families.

“[The calendar] is all local, and that’s very important to us. The photographers, the promoters, the models and the fashion designers are all from Ottawa. Plus, it’s for a great cause that has strong ties in this city,” says Blanchard.

But even if young photographers are sufficiently business-aware, what lies ahead for the industry? Will it be possible to survive as a professional if your clients have access to the same high-quality equipment that you do?

“It’s about reputation. I shot a wedding 25 years ago, and just last week I photographed her daughter’s wedding as well,” says Couvrette. “Service and dependability are not normally words you associate with photography, but this is a business like anything else. You want to trust your planner or your jeweller on your special day, and your photographer is no different.

“I’m just waiting for the next wave,” he adds. “The latest one is deadly but things change, people change, society changes. I think people will go back to creating actual wedding albums once the Facebook fad or whatever washes away. Like the old saying goes, ‘Whatever is old, is new.’”

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The risky art of graffiti

Some art just will just never be appreciated.

This is what an Ottawa graffiti artist who goes by the name of Bobar says is the real problem with graffiti in the city. At 22 years old, Bobar often spends his days painting beautiful murals on the sides of the usually grey walls of the city. He normally does it without the permission of whoever owns the property.

Two blue fantasy faces smile beneath a bridge.

Bobar explains that the majority of the “art” people see out there is not the good kind of graffiti. Bored teenagers or adults will make crude remarks or spray their artist name on a public wall or park bench. This is not the same as what he does.

“There’s a difference between vandalism and graffiti,” says Bobar.

His graffiti will catch your eye immediately. The swirls of unexpected colours blending together on the side of a wall often form designs within other designs. He will contrast colours, paint with perspective, use optical illusions — anything to make people look twice.

One of his murals will simply look like a car from a distance, but up close there is a cityscape within the car. Get even closer and you might notice that the buildings in the cityscape are actually stereo speakers.

When he paints, Bobar says he chooses his location carefully. The busier the place, the harder it will be to actually paint there, but the more rewarding the completion. Since he does his work quietly and without permission, location is key.

“I try to choose places that people see every day, but they don’t really see,” says Bobar. “People will stop and stare at a wall they’ve passed a hundred times before, because of us.”

An homage to Ray Charles in a Gatineau park.

Ephemeral art

“It is sort of strange. Knowing that I’m doing all this sort of work, and I know this won’t last forever,” says Bobar. “If I’m lucky, maybe it will still be here a year from now.”

According to Bobar, graffiti art differentiates itself from other media because it is in a public place for everyone to see. Bobar’s graffiti art is just as expressive and beautiful as the work he does in his home, and he says that he appreciates using a larger canvas that is visible to more people.

“How is it any different if the Mona Lisa was painted on the side of a bridge instead of a canvas?” Bobar asks. “With graffiti you have a guaranteed audience. A lot of them will probably hate it, but not all of them.”

For larger murals, Bobar will usually work with other graffiti artists he has met over the years. These collaboration pieces are often some of his most impressive, because each artist will bring his or her own style and unique skills into the art. One of Bobar’s longtime friends, an artist who goes by the name Dizzer, says that when they do collaborations, spectators often think the worst.

‘How is it any different if the Mona Lisa was painted on the side of a bridge instead of a canvas?’ —graffiti artist Bobar

“People probably think we’re all in a gang or something when they see us,” Dizzer says. “But none of us are drop-outs, and none of us are living on the streets.”

Bobar currently studies art in college, and is gifted not just in graffiti. He does everything, from sketching to oil painting and even computer-generated 3D art. He has sold some of his work for hundreds of dollars.

Some like it, some hate it

Local residents are divided on the issue.

“It doesn’t bother me,” says Chris Lawrence, 22, an Ottawa citizen who has never met a graffiti artist before. “I’m not sure if I would call it art, but this stuff seems better than the rest. I like the way it looks, sure. I’m just not sure whoever owns this building feels the same way.”

Other residents like Sylvia Harb, 28, say the graffiti makes the neighbourhood seem run-down, no matter how good the artwork. “It doesn’t really matter if it’s beautiful or not. They make this whole area seem trashy,” says Harb.

The City of Ottawa has a very strict policy on graffiti, designating it as illegal. Christine Hartig, the policy officer for the graffiti bylaw in Ottawa, says that no matter the circumstance, graffiti is unacceptable. If people are caught spraying illegally, they can be fined up to $610.

A graffiti-fantasy portal: towers of the sky and sea.

The city has designated specific walls and bridges as legal graffiti zones for anyone to spray on, but Bobar says these walls are not enough for all the graffiti artists in the city.

“The way I see it, I mean, it’s not like we’re hurting anyone. All we’re doing is bringing life into something plain,” says Bobar.

Related Links

Ottawa Graffiti Flickr Album

City of Ottawa – Graffiti Management Program

How To Report Graffiti