Writings, Reviews, Cultural Criticism
The category, Spleen, is for posts that make us angry.
I suspect it’s typical of most people that when they hear of an emerging conflict in the news, they pass over the headlines and move on to something else unless the conflict personally affects them. My suspicion comes from personal experience. For example, in 2011, when civil war broke out in Syria, I told myself…
Yesterday, I learned that Dr. Sultan Al Jabar has been appointed president for COP28, the 2023 iteration of the misnamed conference on climate change. Al Jabar is the UAE minister for industry and advanced technology but, more pointedly, also serves as chief executive of the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company (ADNOC), the world’s 12th largest…
Although the passage from one year to the next is an arbitrary line in the sand (or snow, since this is winter in Canada), it does provide us with a pivotal moment when we can reflect on what has gone before and look forward to what is yet to come. The obvious topics—pandemic, Ukraine—have already…
I don’t know why I’ve never bothered with Richards. I’ve heard of him. I’ve seen his books on the shelves of my local bookstores. Maybe I’ve overlooked him because the critics and reviewers have overlooked him, and so I’ve never felt any of the urgent hype to take up his books. I have no idea…
I celebrated Canada’s 155th birthday a week early. At the beginning of the year, I got my fill of people wrapped in Canadian flags and shouting at me about their freedoms. “God keep our land glorious and free” they sang, and I witnessed first hand just how close is the ground that marks out religious and…
Toronto’s weekly anti-vax rabble were out in force again this Saturday. I stumbled upon them by accident. My wife and I had run out to get a few groceries. When we reached the corner of Church & Bloor, we could see flashing lights in the distance and realized that it was police blocking an intersection…
I was curious to know if there would be a repeat performance of last weekend’s Freedom Convoy protest in Toronto. However, on Saturday when I got to Bloor and Avenue Road, it was apparent that the police had assembled a more comprehensive grid of road blocks. At Bloor & Avenue Road, there was a lone…
I went out at 11:30 am, starting my adventure at the intersection of Bloor Street West and Avenue Road. I had thought I would walk south through Queen’s Park Crescent and the tractors I’d seen the night before, then on to the Medical Arts Building where health care workers were planning a counter protest. However,…
I went out shortly after 3:30 pm February 4th, ultimately to meet my wife down at her office in time to lug her laptop back home. Toronto Police Services had issued a notice that they were closing College St. west to University and University south from there in anticipation of tomorrow’s trucker protest which is…
In the afternoon light, I wade through the reeds and stalk mature dragonflies and damselflies. As I kneel in the water to photograph a dragonfly on a blade of grass, another settles on my back and sits there until I’m done.
My silence isn’t assent; my silence is an acknowledgement that I don’t really know what’s going on here. There is a context beyond my grasp, yet the whitest thing I could do is to presume that context doesn’t matter, that platitudes shared through Facebook memes have universal application.
On the evening of June 6th, protesters toppled the statue of Egerton Ryerson which stood on Gould Street on the campus of Toronto’s Ryerson University. Since that date, I have passed the site almost every day and have noted incremental changes.
[T]he function of a statue is only marginally tied to history; its primary function is to serve as an object of reverence. Statuary (of historical figures) is an expression of idolatry that serves the universal religion of our age: the dominance of capital over everything.
The very fact that we allow them to march down the main thoroughfare of our city gives the lie to their complaints. Admittedly, one of the marchers lost his freedom when he was arrested. But that was because he bit a police officer.
The scene paralyses me. My mind reels at the enormity of the contrasts. I feel called to respond but don’t know how. I make my shot and walk away, head bowed because I know it’s a great shot, but so what?