Welcome to Arttawa (#115)

A few photos and words to mark the sixth trip to the Canadian capital.

All the books at Black Squirrel Books & Espresso Bar on Bank Street. I picked up only two, though: The Penguin Canada 1996 imprint of Robertson Davies’ The Manticore, thus filling the gap in my collection due to a loan never returned; and, a copy of Margaret Laurence’s The Diviners. I’m all about that #CanLit. (Not pictured: the requisite espresso fuel for browsing shelves; photo by Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Is there a correct way to unwind?

It feels that there is, if social commentary is anything to go by. That there needs to be a purpose to a trip: specific excursions, target places to explore, bucket list items, or cheeky indulgences sandwiched between conference sessions and work meetings.

I had none of these. All I had was time and an opportunity.

It felt indulgent when Ben suggested that I could come along on his work trip. But where my practical side was already chiding myself for going on a trip with no purpose, I gave into the other side that quietly whispered, “Fuck it,” and booked a ticket next to Ben on the plane to Ottawa.

The National Art Gallery of Canada / La Musee des Beaux-Arts du Canada is a marvel, both inside and outside, and a strong recommend for any visit to the nation’s capital. (In the background, the Parliament Peace Tower is under repair by cranes; not unlike a church roof, it always seems to be in a construction state; photo by Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Ben lived in Ottawa for a time during the halcyon dot.com days, and was returning to this home-away-from-home to support the national cybersecurity competition for post-secondary students that he helps organize. (Surprisingly, I was allowed to be in the vicinity of this top-tier event, despite having been a former proud user of the factory settings for my Internet router when we first met, e.g., password = “Admin”.)

It was my sixth time in Ottawa. Every single time before the visit last weekend, I was there for academic reasons:

1. The requisite end of junior high school bus trip to the capital (1996)

2. The youth program Encounters with Canada (1998)

3. My first conference presentation ever (2003)

4. The 11th conference presentation (2007)

5. Attendance at a work conference (2016)

Every other time, I had been there for academic reasons, and this was the Vaseline smeared on the lens of my memory of Ottawa.

But this time, I chose to listen to that meek (yet saucy) voice instead, and gave myself up to the idea of exploration for the sheer hell of it. This was the first time to take the city all in without pretence; to lay my head near the mouth of the city and listened for the words it dared not whisper. To walk a city streets and absorb.

To just be.

Mural in Ottawa’s Chinatown, courtesy of a public art initiative between the Ottawa School of Art and the Chinatown BIA. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

One of my favourite art genres is urban art, sanctioned and otherwise, and Ottawa is full of it across several neighbourhoods. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

“Woman of Light” by Cassandra Dickie, in Centretown. You can sit in one of the many Adirondack chairs by the mural, hang out with the pigeons, and just take in the light and textures. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Chickadee in a war helmet mural in the Hintonburg neighbourhood by Dan Martelock. (Apparently he sells prints and buttons of the feisty feathered flocks, so looks like I’ll be doing post-trip souvenir shopping; photo by Bryn Robinson, 2024).

“Reading is Fundamental” by Dom Laporte and Dan Metcalfe. Books and cephalopods? Sign me up. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

I had pinned places of possible interest on a map, then reminded myself that they were there merely as loose guides, not rulers. I ducked down streets and paused to look at murals and storefronts, trying to soak in feelings as the details will fade over time. I went into a few used book stores. A few stationary stores. I grabbed a lemongrass lemonade and read for an hour on a covered patio as the rain fell. I paused by art works not pressed for time, listening to play lists. I wrote. I watched people. I paused in the afternoons at the room to rest aching limbs and prepare for the second round of exploration at night. I visited two galleries, one familiar and the other, a new friend. I clocked about 45km of walking in 4 days.

Arctic ice - for real - on display at the wonderful Canadian Museum of Nature. The exhibit on the Canadian Arctic, the geology and bird displays, and the special feature on wolves were particular highlights. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Judging all the commoners. “Dancer” by Antonio Canova in the National Art Gallery of Canada. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Tin House and the sculpture Nos Bergers (Our Shepherds) by Patrick Bérubé. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

Sometimes, it was slightly overwhelming, the lack of real constraint and the amount of choice; the feeling that there was a wrong way to do this. But I (mostly) succeeded at ignoring all that, giving myself over to time and opportunity and wherever my feet would take me.

Do you have a preferred way of exploring a place? What about a place you’ve been to many times before - does that differ from the first time?

I love this quote in the store window at 4 Cats Art Studio in The Glebe, Ottawa. (Photo: Bryn Robinson, 2024)

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