I’m supposed to be having Dinner in the Dark with a bunch of strangers in a couple of hours… will tell you folks all about the evening later…

I’d mentioned last week that I wrote a proposal to study religious rhetoric, and chose the Anglican Church as my site. I did a bit of reading about Anglicans before my first foray into their sanctuary, but I was quite unprepared with quite how much ritual and ceremony took place during High Mass.

I haven’t seen that much ritual since my cousin Mario’s Greek Orthodox wedding (he’s Filipino-Italian-French Canadian, she’s Greek). Mario’s side is, I think, Anglican, but we had to keep an eye on the bride’s side of the church to make sure we stood up and sat down at the right times. It was like a sports stadium wave, but in church — the Greek side would stand up, and we’d follow… up, down, up down. Must’ve been hilarious to watch from the back of the church. Maybe if I were up at the front, I wouldn’t be able to stay solemn and reverential.

When I told my Auntie Susan about my project, she was predictably ecstatic. After all, she’s very devout. She’s never been married, but I would say she’s married to the church. As far as I know, Anglicans don’t have nuns, but if they did, she would be one. If she’s not at home, she’s at church. Now, don’t get me wrong — I’m not knocking her devotion, or devotion to religion in general. It would take a very hardened person to not acknowledge how much good the churches do in communities. (Although you could argue they also did a lot of damage to the aboriginal community in the country’s early days.) Most of the organizations I’ve volunteered for were linked to a church.

So, I knew I wouldn’t get zapped upon entry into St. James — I’m a self-proclaimed agnostic, but if God were at St. James on Sunday morning, He might say, “Hey, haven’t I seen you around before?”, not “Where in My Name have you been?”

Aside from weddings and baby dedications and funerals, I think the last time I showed up in a church — any church — was maybe when I stayed with this evangelical Christian family in Bundaberg, Australia. They had two girls and were a pretty conservative bunch, from what I can recall. But I’ll tell you one thing: I’ll take the classical churches — Roman Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox Greek, what-have-you — over evangelical Christian any day of the week. I’m a modernist generally, but something about evangelical Christianity gives me the creeps.

Back to St. James…

Music for High Mass
Mass setting
Opening Hymn
Gradual Hymn
Offertory Hymn
Communion Hymn
Closing Hymn
Postlude

Anyway, so it’s 10:30, and I’m standing at the steps of the church. I see a bodyguard, but no aunt. He’s a big beefy guy with a name tag, and he greets me as I head in the door, pretending like I was just like any other churchgoer to St. James. My aunt was nowhere in sight, so I stood around in the foyer for a while before someone inevitably invited me in. The church is old, and I like it — the first thing that hit me was the incense. It was still a bit smoky near the front, and the smoke and the scent hung in the air, the scent of the ages.

I was there at the tail end of Family Mass, before High Mass. Everyone disappeared downstairs, where they were serving refreshments in between services. The basement of the church is filled with people, a motley crew of white-haired little old ladies, street people — some of whom are probably homeless and want some coffee and somewhere to sit down — and everybody in between. The location of St. James, the oldest church in the diocese of New Westminster, is in Vancouver’s gritty, grotty Downtown Eastside. Site of the first clinical injection site in North America. The cesspit of the city. You get the idea. Why else would this church need a bouncer? But, the church’s location is one of the reasons why I chose it — because it is smack-dab in the middle of the most secular area in the city, made all the more desperate-looking by the smattering of gospel missions and church soup kitchens. The guy occupying the pew in front of me had dreadlocks that reeked so badly I had to move across the aisle to avoid being downwind from him. The hooker that hobbled in on stiletto heels and fishnet stockings was high as a kite — her singing more like screeching/wailing, piercing the air over and above the minister chanting his part of the prayer on a microphone. Eventually she was removed. I wondered if it was like this every week.

Do the other people in the church gaze upon her and think to themselves:
“God have mercy on your soul” or
“I’m so glad I didn’t turn out that way” or
“This woman shouldn’t have been let in” or… what?

It’s at these times I would like to be able to read people’s minds.

St. James wasn’t all little old ladies and bums, though, there were people there of all shapes and sizes, ages, and attire. Sitting near the back, I was quite fascinated with the variety within the congregation. And, no matter who they were, they gave a half-kneel and bow as they went past the centre aisle. I grew up in a modern church with very little ritual or ceremony, and whether or not this part of religion makes a difference to the faith of the religious individual, it was interesting to observe. It brings to mind a lot of questions about the function of ritual in a secular life, too. I’m thinking of politeness rituals, gestures of respect, things you’re taught in childhood. Do any of us really think about why we’re doing it, or has the ritual become so ingrained into our psyches that nothing short of a lobotomy will get them back out again? As I sat in Anglican Church on a Sunday morning, a thousand paper topics raced through my brain, not just about religious rhetoric but prejudice, modernism, class consciousness, etc. I think if I am ever stuck for inspiration for an anthropological paper, I gotta go back to church. Even if it means dragging my sorry carcass out of bed early on a Sunday morning.

On Wednesday I wrote about looking forward to going to Spain next month. That still applies, even after the chilling events that took place in Madrid only a few hours before I wrote that post at 4am, Pacific time. If I’d had Kevin’s homepage up in another window, I’d have known by then that 10 bombs ripped through three train stations in Madrid, killing 200 people and injuring 1,500 others, and I might not have written that post. But never in a million years would I have guessed that such a thing would be happening while I was writing my first post about Spain.

In reading a related article in the Jerusalem Post, writer Barry Davis articulated what had been subconsciously bothering me about the Spanish government pointing the finger at the ETA, the militant Basque separatist group. He says:

First, ETA does not have a record of killing on a mass scale. In general, its operations have been designed to assassinate individuals - political and military - who are associated with the government. Over the past year, for example, ETA attacks have claimed three lives.

From what I have read about ETA’s terrorist activities in the past, they haven’t engaged in any large-scale acts. It’s not to say that they wouldn’t be capable of this, I’m only going by their historical modus operandi. On my Wednesday post, I put in a comment that said I was shocked that the ETA would commit a terrorist act as large-scale as this, and since then the ETA has denied responsibility for it. Many theories have since been offered, but I rationalize that the Basque group would not likely commit such an act on the basis of potential retaliation from the rest of Spain… they are a relatively small cultural group in Spain, and to resort to violence at this level against civilians — possibly even to some of their own — for the purpose of gaining independence from a government they will continue to be reliant upon (for trade at the very least, if independence is achieved), would be an unlikely strategy for ETA.

Which begs a disclaimer at this point:

I am no political pundit, such as the likes of Jay Currie or Andrew Coyne or any number of online writers who follow Canadian or global politics. Politics is my Achilles heel… I have become more and more political in recent years, but I don’t claim to have any more in-depth understanding of the political process than, say, the mechanics of a car. It’s not to say that I’m not trying to be more politically (or mechanically) savvy, I am definitely working on it. (Ask my mechanics.) But, Gail’s Balcony does not claim to be a political blog. If a significant global event occurs, and I do not write about it, it doesn’t mean in any way, shape, or form that I don’t have an opinion about it. Hell, I have an opinion about everything. I just won’t necessarily air my opinions on political issues because it’s one area where I feel I need a great deal more information before I’ll form an opinion worth writing. Everything else, however, is fair game… (cheeky ol’ me)

Interestingly, a commentator on Andrew Coyne’s site noted that 911 days had passed between 9/11 and the Madrid bombings, but another commentator noted that it was actually 912 because of the leap year. Don’t the leap years only count in the Gregorian calendar or some such thing?? There are all sorts of calendars out there besides the ones used in the Western world, and — hey, is this a tangent or what? — maybe leap years are only accounted for in what we’re using, the same way that Daylight Savings Time is not observed in some places (eg., some Australian states). Even more interestingly, in the time that it took me to put in references and links, those comments regarding the number of days that have passed since 9/11 have disappeared. I thought it was just my imagination, but I still had the original comments window up and saw that it was not myopia or clicking off-course.

At mytelus.com, I noted a little poll in the side window, for this question:

Will high-profile terrorist bombings in places such as Bali, and this week’s attacks in Spain, dissuade you from travelling to such popular tourist destinations?

Results as of this afternoon:

• 29% for Definitely
• 24% for Perhaps
• 28% for Not at all
• 17% for I was never interested

I like to keep tabs on these little polls from time to time, to watch how the percentages change over the course of time, as more information gets released, as more opinions and theories are postulated and public opinion sways with the media breeze. Of course, the mytelus.com readership is not necessarily representative of the public — results of online polls must always be taken with a grain of salt.

My vote is lumped in with the Not At All crowd. I am from the school of thought that considers risk a part of everyday life. When we drive around, there is a significant probability that we will be involved in a car accident at some point. All forms of travel carry inherent risks. I’ve gone bungee-jumping, river surfing, and other activities where I’ve had to sign a disclaimer. But there are so many other things we do that don’t carry a disclaimer, but are taken for granted to be without inherent risk to personal safety — riding on public transit, crossing intersections, standing in a crowd, hiking in the woods, etc. Risk is everywhere, it just depends on how you calculate the risk and how you let that affect your life. I would live life differently if I had kids, for example, I would be much more wary about my surroundings and side with caution more often. I wouldn’t do arguably unsafe things such as wander around foreign cities in the middle of the night by myself to satisfy my noctural urge to explore.

Stephen Savage is one of a number of individuals who have been inspired by world events such as 9/11 and the terrorist bombing of Bali to initiate an international travel project to foster goodwill among people. He travels to remind people that the world, with all the conflict it’s sustained in recent years due to terrorism and war, is not overrun with terrorists — most of earth’s inhabitants are essentially good people. Steve has been travelling since July of last year to get out there, travel and meet people and write about his experience so others may benefit. I’ve mentioned Steve before, but I may not have mentioned his project, which is an online shared experience. The shared part comes in by way of ‘audience participation’: sending him challenges, hosting him (which I did briefly in July and August), and posting in his messageboard. I bring your attention to his project from time to time not for the sake of giving someone publicity, but because I’ve “sussed him out” as the Aussies say, and think he is a worthy poster boy for global goodwill. Behind that occasionally scruffy exterior, Aussie humour, and broad accent is a guy who genuinely wants to highlight the good in people, not the cruelty or barbarism that is so often the content of media stories.

I can’t believe it. A weekend without a deadline hanging over my head. It’s been so long I’m forgetting what it’s like! Lately, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. As much as I moan on this blogsite about how much there is to get done, it’s just all hot air, really. Deep down I know if I didn’t have stuff going on, I would wither up and die with boredom. If I didn’t channel this energy into something constructive and productive, I’d probably end up in jail for mischief…

The weather’s been so good lately, I’m looking forward to doing stuff outside. When Ross called from Boston on Monday, he said it was snowing. I took this pic this afternoon, and as you can see, the blossoms are out in full force on Beach Avenue.

What I have slotted for this weekend, work-wise, is:

1) finally finish off my taxes so I can get my refund!
2) attend Anglican Church to collect data for my ethnography paper about religious rhetoric.

In case there are any Anglicans reading this, I’d just like to say that I have never been to Anglican Church, and that my use of the word rhetoric is not in the pejorative sense. I’m taking Advanced University writing, so the entire field is referred to as rhetoric studies. Just thought I’d clear that up. Why did I choose the Anglican Church?

a) there are several in the West End and around the downtown core
b) if I attend my brother’s church (the one I grew up with), I would be less objective, and it would mean waking up early on a Saturday; somehow, this seems harder after a tough week — I need to break myself into the weekend!
c) the Anglican Church is an old church, and one of my objectives is to examine the modernization of religious messages. The reason why I didn’t choose Catholic is because it’s more of an inherited religion — people will more likely identify themselves as Catholic if their parents were Catholic, even if they were non-practicing. There seems somewhat less of a need to modernize Catholicism, although this is more my impression rather than a statement of fact and I’m certain that there are Catholics out there who would argue this. In any case, I chose Anglican because although it is an old church, it has adopted some (relative to Catholic) progressive policies (ordination of women as ministers, gay marriage) and appears to position itself as attempting to be more relevant to its constituents. I understand that within the Anglican Church there are different levels of conservatism/liberalism, but I chose to study a church in an urban setting as it would seem to address relevancy to a modern way of life more than a suburban or rural church.

Fun Fair at Kits Point??

I returned from Sechelt late on Wednesday night, and found it oddly bright outside. Where was all this light coming from?? My office/bedroom was flooded with light, and there were massive stadium-sized lights on the beach by my apartment, across the water at Kits Point. I’ve just done a Google search, and according to Katkam, it’s just a film set. I was wondering why there was no advertising, no press junkets, no information whatsoever. Vancouver, as a location for all kinds of filming — feature films, commercials, made for TV movies, etc. — can transform itself in a matter of hours. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve unintentionally walked or driven through a film set over the years. It’s bizarre, but interesting, to observe the transformation. One minute you’re standing on a city streetcorner, and the next block over is New York City, complete with NY shops, cars with NY plates, cafes and NYC police.

Dining Out For Life

Eliza and I had much more fun this year working Dining Out For Life. Last year it was pissing down with rain, there was a hockey game (in Vancouver that does tend to keep people indoors), and the restaurants we had assigned to us were all over the city — Kitsilano, Main Street, downtown. Some restaurants closed early, one didn’t even know why I was there, and the rest all mentioned at some point or another that it was a pretty slow night. This year, the weather was good, people were dining out, and there was no hockey game going on. Everyone was in good spirits, I never had to wait long to get the boxes, and I’m very certain we made a lot more money than last year and hopefully beat the total raised from two years ago.

What Eliza and I had to do was pick up the donation boxes that were placed at each of the participating restaurants. There were about 150 in total, but we were assigned about 10. In some places, people found us a pretty curious sight: me with a name tag, running in and grabbing a box, then running out again to jump into a canary yellow Mercedes SLK. Kam, of Kam’s Place Singaporean restaurant, joked that he would only give me the box as a trade for the car. Driving around in a yellow sports car is like putting wheels on a neon sign!

Project Empty Bowl

While we were out driving around, I asked Eliza to cruise by the Virgin Megastore window so I could take photos of the display. I alluded to a debacle on Tuesday, the day of the installation. It all got sorted out in the end, but let me just say this is the second display. The first was dismantled. I only learned about this yesterday, and I was mortified and apologized to the Virgin Megastore marketing and promo manager by e-mail. That is the last time I will let something I’m responsible for go unsupervised (unless I know the people involved first-hand). This is generally my policy, but as I had to be in Sechelt — ironically, so I could work the other A Loving Spoonful project — Dining Out For Life on Thursday, I couldn’t be around to be involved in the installation at Virgin. Karen played it down, but personally, I was embarrassed.

The bowls on display at Virgin are the largest and most flamboyant of all the bowls created for Project Empty Bowl. Because the windows at Virgin are so large, the posters created for them were special ordered and — I’m sure — very expensive. Karen picked out the “loudest” bowls to showcase there, and the pics I took below are two very ornate pieces that we were hoping to display at Holt Renfrew. I’m going to go there sometime over the next few days to take photos and see what they’ve done with the displays.

I’m sitting here at Kevin’s desk, surrounded by papers. It’s after 4 o’clock in the morning. Thinking of Spain to keep me going. Five more weeks. Barcelona architecture. Tapas and sangria. Wandering around Alicante and Malaga… try not to eat too much. Must keep skin clear and fit into bridesmaid dress. Don’t go scaring Lucy by wandering off with total strangers to the shops at 3am like that time in London, only to return after dawn. What a night! I did that to her in Amsterdam, too, only not with total strangers — I went off on a food mission. OK, must save stories for time when deadlines not hanging overhead.

If yesterday was a three-car pile-up, today was a wrecking yard. I’m out of town, in Sechelt today and tomorrow, but one of the projects I’m co-ordinating suffered a bit of a setback today due to a mix-up on my part… I managed a correction, however, and all was well again, but there was a bit of a panicky moment, there.

I finally finished the dang thing. I don’t think I have EVER dragged out the reading of a book this long before. Eliza gave me a bunch of novels over Christmas, and I’d finished the Bridget Jones books in due course. I even wrote a rambling blog about them.

Memoirs of a Geisha, however, took some time. Rightly so, though, since there is a level of detail in the book — Japanese culture in a particular time period — that warrants a slower pace. Plus, I’d already started my coursework and work was taking more of my time. But I have to say: I was a bit disappointed. The book is a favourite of so many, yet I found myself somewhat let down with… I’m not sure what exactly. Some passages were quite moving, her emotions powerful, but overall I didn’t feel the book’s expected impact. Could’ve been the long period of time I took to read it. Maybe if I’d read it in a few sittings it would’ve had a different impression, although that’s purely hypothetical. I can’t exactly unread it to find out.

Now I’m onto the last of the books Eliza lent to me: Frank McCourt’s ‘Tis, a follow-up to his more famous work, Angela’s Ashes, which I read when it was released way back when. I can’t recall the story details, but I do recall enjoying the book immensely. We’ll see how Frank McCourt does this time. I must say, though, I do have a fondness for the Irish lilt and have a tendency to “read aloud” the accent in my head as the words jump off the page. My own simultaneous translation, if you will.

It somewhat resembled a three-car pile-up today, but we all survived. No injuries. Things got done. No worries.

It won’t take much for the regular readers to figure out that the “Ball of Science” I’m referring to is actually…Science World. “Ball of Science” is what Melissa called it, much to the amusement of those who heard her pontificate on the Skytrain. If you’re dubious as to whether or not a 4-year old can pontificate, I assure you: this one does.

It’s Sunday, my usual day with the kids. Kids on good behaviour is the condition (and variable). So today that excluded 2-year old Madeleine. Apparently she takes the “terrible twos” terribly seriously or just… well, terribly. Or to heart. She was screaming blue murder when I arrived at my brother’s house, and I asked how long that had been going on.

“Oh, nearly an hour,” Cheryl informed me. “I don’t recommend you take her.” Oh, really? That bad, huh? I figured the older two could handle going out on their own, so I decided to make our lives easier and take the Sktytrain, since the “Ball of Science” was chock-a-block full due to raining-cats-and-dogs kind of weather. I drove by it on the way to the freeway, and I could see people were having a tough time parking. Thought it might be best to avoid all that.

This is only Melissa’s second outing with me since her return from Maine, so I thought we’d hit all the shows. Some of them were very dazzling, like the “Cold Show” which featured dry ice and even liquid nitrogen. I could tell the kids were really wowed by the demonstrations with shattering banana peels, rubber tubing, and Fluffy the balloon dog. I saw their eyes widen as Fluffy was stuffed into the clear cylinder that contained the liquid nitrogen, promptly deflated, then “resuscitated” by a little volunteer who breathed on it and causing it to inflate again. Michael has an amazing memory, so I’m going to have to keep my eye on him the next time I get him balloon dog — he might try and stuff it into somebody’s glass of water, hoping it would deflate.

Between the “Locomotion” show and the last show of the day called “Science Surprises” I ran around to get the kids to try new exhibits. Seems like Michael and Melissa are getting bolder, especially Michael, who on occasion was a bit shy but has now become pretty brazen. I have a feeling it’s a competitive thing. Melissa may be older than Michael by one year, but he’s the same size as she is, so competes with her physically and in other ways. She’s very verbose for her age and can still talk rings around him (he’s catching up, though), but I think attending daycare with a bunch of rowdy boys for the past few months has made him louder. Michael is SO VERY LOUD, it can be embarrassing.

the Ms on the Skytrain

On the Skytrain a man sat down in front of us who was bald, and guess who piped up, “HEY, HE HAS NO HAIR!” at the top of his lungs? Pointing his finger, no less, at the man’s head as he eagerly made his report…

I wanted to crawl under the seat and disappear, but the man just ignored us, and I shushed the kids up.

The daycare lady, Natalia, says she finds Michael hilarious. When other children say “snake!”, Michael will say “Burmese python” When they say “ostrich!”, Michael will shake his head and say “emu”! I took Michael and Melissa to the nature section of Science World, which houses some live creatures such as a hive of bees and snakes. They had the opportunity to pet the resident corn snake, and when I asked Michael what it felt like, he said very matter-of-factly,“it feels like a Burmese python!” The man next to me burst out laughing, while I admonished, “Michael, how do you know what a Burmese python feels like?” Really, I should’ve saved my breath.

Melissa’s first stint as a volunteer

Melissa even got onstage. Before, whenever a volunteer was called up onstage during a show (practically every five minutes), the kids wouldn’t even raise their hands. This time it was different. They started raising their hands tentatively during the first show, waving their arms in the air during the second show, and by the time the third show came around both of them were right up in the front row just about jumping up and down. I knew it was just a matter of time before one of them got called up. This time it was Melissa.

She did quite well for her debut. No stage fright. She did push buttons even when the “scientist” told her not to, but nothing blew up, so that was fine. I think Michael was jealous that she went up and he didn’t, so I’ll see if I can get him in a red shirt or something bright like that for next time. Or a Canucks (hockey) jersey, that seemed to be one sure-fire way of getting onstage. Either that, or I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way and grease a palm. (Apparently, that works best at the government level.)

Last week was a busy week, not just because of work and SFU stuff, but because I’ve got some sideline projects going on. One of them is Project Empty Bowl, for A Loving Spoonful.

History of Project Empty Bowl

In 10 years Empty Bowl has fed thousands. It began when John Harton, a teacher in Bloomfield, MT, asked his high school ceramic students to make enough bowls to give a luncheon for the school staff. For $5 each, the guests received a simple meal of soup and bread, served in one of the handmade bowls. Guests were asked to accept their now empty bowls as a gift and to keep them as a reminder of all the empty bowls that still need filling. The money raised was donated to the local food bank.

The energy of those young potters, their teacher and their guests breathed life into what has become the Empty Bowls Project. Since then, groups of potters have raised and donated over $1,750,000 to organizations like A Loving Spoonful that fight hunger.

The premise of Empty Bowls is profoundly simple and has been repeated thousands of times by small groups and large. A few people get together to create bowls. They invite guests, as many as they have bowls, to share a simple meal and to donate a small sum, which provides food to those in need. In return, guests take home their empty bowl as a reminder of the continuing hunger within their own community.

In 1997, Rachelle Chinnery of Mudslingers Clay Studios brought the concept of Empty Bowls to A Loving Spoonful. They had the blessing and enthusiastic participation of the Potters Guild of British Columbia and the Canadian Craft & Design Museum. Together, they created Project Empty Bowl as a benefit for A Loving Spoonful.

In March 2004 we will produce the 4th bi-annual Project Empty Bowl. Prominent members of the clay, glass, metal and wood artisan communities have been asked to create significant bowls specifically for this event. These creations have traditionally been part of a static display in one location and then are auctioned at a Gala evening of beautiful donated food, drink and song. In 2004, we will be displaying the pieces at select retailers such as Holt Renfrew and in public spaces to increase visibility for the artists, the event and the sponsors. A silent auction features many items, including bowls designed and executed by local celebrities such as Arthur Erickson, Bill Richardson, the fabulous Tracy Bell and our wonderful founder Easter Armas-Mikulik.

As many as 80% of deaths from AIDS are immediately precipitated by malnutrition rather than by the disease itself. Project Empty Bowl has raised $50,000 for A Loving Spoonful, a registered charity that delivers free, nutritious meals to men, women and children fighting HIV/AIDS who have multiple barriers to accessing proper nutrition. Next year, we hope to raise $50,000 to provide nutritional services to our clients.

The A Loving Spoonful website is featuring Dining Out For Life right now, which is happening next Thursday, March 11. I’m also involved with that, in a lesser capacity. Vancouver readers - don’t forget to dine out at a restaurant that has the Dining Out For Life poster in the window. There are 150 participating restaurants, you can find a list of them here.

My main job in Project Empty Bowl is to co-ordinate the window displays, which will feature some of the bowls being auctioned at Heritage Hall on March 31. The three retail locations are Holt Renfrew, Granville Optical, and Virgin Megastore. Much of the co-ordination has been on the phone, contacting people, explaining what needs to be done, getting things, etc., but yesterday I actually put up a display in the first window, at Granville Optical. I shouldn’t say I put up the display, since really it was Oz who created the display and I just followed his orders. I got in touch with Oz through Alexandra, who is co-chairing the project along with Kenn. I was trying to get some materials together for the displays, and Alexandra said when it comes to windows, Oz was the man to call. So, call him I did, and arranged to meet him on Saturday morning.

Saturday, 9ish, much too early for my liking…

Oz

windowdressing

Granville Optical

After dropping off Ross and Kevin at the airport so I could borrow Ross’s truck, I tried to wake up a bit before picking Oz up in Kits and heading off to Alexandra’s house to pick up the display stands to be used at Virgin Megastore. I was only half-awake, after a coma-like sleep on Friday night and relatively early Saturday morning. But Oz was even worse off, having gone to bed at 6am. We were a dozy pair, that’s for sure. In fact, if you’d been walking on Granville Street at the southwestern corner, you would’ve seen us in the window draping fabric and taping lights on the security bars in a bit of a stupor.

As you can see, one of the main challenges to dressing this window is the security bars. Lloyd, the owner (manager?) told us that last summer some thieves had actually broken the glass, reached through the bars, and with a coathanger or something nabbed all the sunglasses from the display cases. So, even though there’s a motion sensor alarm, this all happens too quickly to be able to intervene. These thieves must work pretty fast, since there’s a community police station right on Granville Street, around the corner. We were a little disappointed that we couldn’t put the displays closer to the glass, but to compensate, we taped the poster information on the glass so people could at least read it, even if the bowls were a bit far away. We fiddled around a bit with the track lighting, too, for better illumination. While I was standing in the window, I noticed more people looking in, so I know the display is a lot more eye-grabbing than before. Actually, I don’t know how the display could be any less eye-grabbing than before, because it was basically just two lacklustre stands with some glasses on it. Nothing else. Oz put in purple mini-lights in the shape of two eyes, so that should help attract attention at night. He added a third eye in the background, in white lights.

Holt Renfrew display

Holt Renfrew platform

Holt Renfrew generously gave us a platform in the menswear department to showcase larger bowls, as well as an accessory display case upstairs. When I went to Holt Renfrew last week to check out the space, I was surprised to find Kevin remembered me right away, since it’s been nearly two years since the one and only time he’d seen me, when we decorated the Loving Spoonful float for the Pride Parade. (This float won the prize for 2002. Loved the bubble machine. Sue dressed up in costume and was the centrepiece of the float.)

I checked out the Virgin Megastore window the previous week, which was an interesting view of the pedestrians along the corner of Robson and Burrard Streets. William took me through the doors into the space between the walls and the glass, and I was very much distracted by the people walking past. It’s not every day you stand inside a glass enclosure that you walk by often and peer out at the window shoppers instead of being the one looking in. It’s an interesting perspective. On a side note, you wanna know how they fasten those giant posters on those Virgin Megastore walls? Velcro.