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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2008-11-20, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 2008. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt Discovering the arts T he average 16-year old has clocked more time watching television than he has spent in school. TV Guide outsells every other magazine on the nation’s newsstands. That’s more serious than venereal disease. And you know what’s even more serious than that? That very quote is 31 years old. John Leonard made that observation in The New York Times back in 1977. Three decades later, television is more ubiquitous and entrenched than Leonard could ever have imagined. And not just on this continent. If I lived in Britain right now I could choose from 883 channels on my television. Germany is a distant second – I’d only have 300 channels competing for my attention there. There are 252 channels on French television; 199 in Spain. Poor, benighted Estonia struggles to get by with just 15 different channels. But Europeans as a group have no cause to feel underserved when it comes to television coverage. All told there are some 6,500 television channels up and running across the European Union. Yet another excellent reason not to move across the Atlantic. Moi? A television Luddite? You betcha. And I’ve earned the stripes to say so because I’ve been in front of the boob tube from the beginning. Since before the beginning, actually. I’m so venerable I can actually remember life before TV. In our living room a piano stood in the place of honour the TV set would eventually assume. We actually stood around as a family on Sunday afternoons and occasional evenings, singing, if you can believe it, while Mom or Dad chorded through some old standards. A piano in the living room. How quaint. But television was a force that would not be denied. Wasn’t long before we got one too, and the piano was relegated to a back room to make room for it. Eventually, I suppose, we sold the piano. I don’t remember. Like everyone else I was too enthralled with the new magic box with the big glass eye. Actually, not so big. Ours was a squat, clunky Admiral with a 17-inch screen. Black and white, of course. And it featured a big bakelite knob on the lower right hand corner that was marked just like a clock, with twelve channels on the dial. Even that was false advertising. Our TV could only pull in Channels Two, Four, Six, Seven, Nine and 11. Channel Four was Buffalo; Channel Six was CBC. Most of the channels carried no programming at all, just a sound track of static and close-ups of snowstorms occasionally criss-crossed with what looked like railroad tracks. What a contrast to the television set that sits in my living room today. Its screen is about three times as big as that old Admiral, delivers full-colour reception and lets me choose from… …actually I have no idea how many channels I get. I hardly ever watch TV anymore unless somebody else turns it on. Too complicated. My channel browser features more dials and buttons than the dashboard of a Westjet Airbus, the channels have numbers like 197 and 305, my copy of the TV Guide has bloated up to the size of a Dickens novel… …and every other program seems to feature either Paris Hilton or Don Cherry. Who needs it? Even so-called Public Television has degenerated into a dreary daisy chain of BBC comedies interspersed with dispiriting documentaries about vanishing species. I’m with Robert MacNeil, the acerbic Nova Scotian author and broadcaster who moaned, “Television should be more than English people talking and animals mating, occasionally interrupted by English people mating and animals talking.” But I give the final word on television to Groucho Marx, a comedic genius who both preceded and subsequently mastered the medium of television. But never thought very highly of its tutorial capabilities. “I must say I find television very educational,” Groucho once said. “The minute somebody turns it on, I go into the library and read a good book.” A house with a library. How quaint. Arthur Black Other Views 57 channels and nothing’s on Liberal Premier Dalton McGuinty is being criticized for not being as inspiring and charismatic as Barack Obama – but he doesn’t need to be to hold his job. Ontarians, as long as most can remember have elected and re-elected premiers who provided as much inspiration and charisma as your uncle’s laundry list. They probably would vote for the statue of Queen Victoria outside the legislature if they were told it would provide the programs they want. They have been less concerned with flesh and blood The criticism that McGuinty is not like the U.S. president-elect has been made mainly by Progressive Conservatives. Ted Chudleigh said some may quibble with Obama’s policies, but he has attributes that make great leaders, including fresh ideas, a bold vision and the courage to create change. Chudleigh said Obama will bring innovative ideas to counter the current economic slowdown, while McGuinty has none. John O’Toole said Obama “is a leader with vision and hope and that’s what’s missing in this Liberal government.” O’Toole claimed his party leader, John Tory, resembles Obama, because both are inclusive, consultative and visionary. This may be slightly exaggerated, because Tory lacked the vision to foresee his proposal to fund faith- based schools would cost him last October’s election. Conservative interim leader Bob Runciman added that McGuinty has done nothing to inspire he can soften the economic slump and some news media have asked properly where is Ontario’s Obama? Obama is admired because he seems intelligent, confident, articulate and trustworthy, although he lacks a track record to prove the latter, broke a historic barrier by becoming the first black elected president and prompted the biggest percentage turnout of voters in the U.S. in a century. Canadians also would like to encourage more people to vote. But McGuinty won government, not because he exuded charisma, but because voters lost enthusiasm for his predecessors, Conservative premiers Mike Harris and Ernie Eves, after they cut taxes but weakened services. McGuinty chipped away at them in two elections, but never made a speech anyone called inspiring. His most remembered words are his 2003 election slogan, “choose change,” but this was copied. McGuinty has tried to popularize himself by such strategies as describing how he and his three sons camp in the wilderness, which shows family togetherness, and allowing himself to be photographed on his rowing machine. But there never has been a suggestion he has charisma. The only premier in this period who might be said to have inspired voters was Harris. He captured a widespread longing with his promises to cut government and taxes and zoomed from third party to government. But it was Harris’s policies, not any personal characteristics, that won for him and he was never seen as warm and attractive. It could not be said he had charisma. New Democrat Bob Rae, a Rhodes Scholar, was the premier most admired for his intellect, but won government because voters had turned out the Conservatives after 42 years, then the Liberals after five years, and were not prepared to bring back the Conservatives so quickly. Rae had the best command of words, but not much emotion, and there was no suggestion he had charisma. Peterson won by looking young and energetic when the ancient regime of the Conservatives was ready to fall. Conservative William Davis gained majorities in only two of the four elections he won and acknowledged his lack of oratorical skill by saying “bland works.” John Robarts was called “chairman of the board” and had the stiffness that goes with the title, and Leslie Frost was genial, but remote. The only leader with charisma was Stephen Lewis, whose oratory 30 years later has university students lining up to hear him describe the horrors of sickness in Africa, on which he has become an expert. But Lewis was leader of the NDP and when Ontarians had a chance to choose charisma – there were other issues, of course – they opted against it. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk The car circled slowly into the darkened lot. Twinkling starlight was not enough to chase away the foreboding gloom as it pulled into an empty parking spot. Four shadowy figures emerge, glancing around them into the eerie stillness. Vacant vehicles fill the spaces, hulking hiding places perfect for sinister skulkers. The group looks toward the large cheerless building and to the several dimly-lit windows on the top floor. A soft glow shows off a set of narrow steps in a black corner at the back and they ascend. At the top is a door, which with a gentle push, eerily creeps open to reveal a hollow, massive room beyond. With slight timidity, the group proceeds, through a series of similar spaces, until one finally breaks the stillness. “I feel like I’m in an episode of The Sopranos,” joked my hubby. We, of course, hadn’t felt any real tension. While there was an imposing aura, a sense of the drama in the setting, we knew more or less what to expect on this mission. He and I, along with our daughter and her friend, were attending an art show and sale. The artist is a recent acquaintance and this would be the first opportunity any of us had had to see her pieces. We entered her studio, a charming, relatively roomy space at the top of this abandoned factory. The building is well maintained, and with its exposed brick and high ceilings, it’s a lofty setting well suited to the bohemian nature. An ‘educated’ artist this young woman primarily creates collages. But it’s the materials she uses that make it really unique. Lining the walls that evening was artwork made whenever possible from reclaimed, vintage, and recycled materials. This essentially means custom designs to retain something of sentimental value, restorations of aged items worth hanging on to, or turning something useless into something that’s worthwhile hanging on the wall. It’s an interesting endeavour that allows her to create not just one-of-a-kind pieces but in a way that preserves history and protects the environment. Yet, how many will ever notice? Probably few and that’s a shame. Notwithstanding the earth-friendly appeal of this particular artwork, I have tremendous admiration for what she does. This artist like all right-brained people, are the blessed ones who see the patterns and shapes in the logical, hear the tones between the notes that others don’t. It is the artist, the musician, the actor who put the colour in life. What they do can take us from the humdrum. They provoke thought and dialogue, encourage us to look and see. Standing before the exhibits the other evening, I thought the least we could do in return is seek them out and try to help them on their way. Standing out and becoming a success in any of the arts is not always about talent. It takes dedication, patience, being in the right place at the right time, and an ability to hang in there. Unfortunately, hanging in there requires an income, which means a day job, which means less time to give to one’s art. It’s a Catch 22 that often sees many talented people never realizing their dream, while others less gifted achieve success. In this case seeking her out also offers a bit of adventure, particularly should you dare to unknowingly tread that backdoor path after nightfall. Premiers lacking in charisma Letters Policy The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor. Letters must be signed and should include a daytime telephone number for the purpose of verification only. Letters that are not signed will not be printed. Submissions may be edited for length, clarity and content, using fair comment as our guideline. The Citizen reserves the right to refuse any letter on the basis of unfair bias, prejudice or inaccurate information. As well, letters can only be printed as space allows. Please keep your letters brief and concise.