Scarves

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: April 6 is National Tartan Day.

The Long Version: Scarves are something of an odd idea. Creating a strip of fabric specifically for wrapping it in the gap between ones' collar and chin hardly seems like a functional idea. Despite growing up watching "Dr. Who" episodes that prominently featured scarves, I never saw much point to them. Stylish accessories, perhaps, but more trouble than they're worth.

Being of (fractionally and nominally) Scottish descent, the last time I was in Ottawa I took the opportunity to visit a tartan shop on Robertson street. How could I not? The photo above is of the Robertson Hunting tartan, while the one below is a standard Robertson. So my first scarf purchases as an adult were simply as accessories, without too much regard for function.

Of course that was before I knew that this winter would be one of the coldest in recent memory, and before I knew just how much warmth a scarf would add to my usual winter outfit. I still never took to scarves for all-purpose wear, though, since they are much more difficult to add or remove quickly than the typical toque and gloves. I'll certainly want to keep them handy for next winter, though.

Today, April 6, just happens to be National Tartan Day. The lead photo is the 'Maple Leaf', the official Tartan of Canada.

last updated 1 dec 2013

Stroll: Psychogeographic Walking Tours of Toronto

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Avoid the culs-de-sac…s.

The Long Version: Stroll is a book that I've been planning to review for quite some time. Published by my favourite printing house, Coach House Books, and written by Shawn Micallef, of Spacing fame, it's a fascinating and involved look at Toronto's neighbourhoods. Simultaneously detailed and expansive, this 279 page book finds the details that can only be seen at walking pace, and does it without being overly pedestrian.

I'm a lifelong resident of Toronto, and one with an above-average interest in local history – I once regretfully turned down a job as a tour guide. So it's with a minor sting of embarrassment that this wonderful book, with its involved and deep enjoyment of the city, was written by an immigrant. Yes, Shawn Micallef is from Windsor. Ontario. That still makes me cringe a bit.

While on the subject of cringing, I could do without the revivals of the words "psychogeographic" and "flâneur". Legitimate terms, apparently, but I'm happy to just walk.

Reading this book has taught me things that I didn't know about the street that I've lived on for a half-decade. Shawn Micallef wields an impressive level of local knowledge, and manages to do it across the entire city. His description of Main and Danforth, an intersection that I passed though regularly for years, insightfully picks out the same problems that I had noticed, and then adds context to them with local history and other subtle observations. It goes without saying that this also gives him excellent credibility when describing the places that I'm yet to visit.

Other times the author's fresh eye leads him to see the streets in ways that I don't. His discussion of Danforth Avenue – The Danforth – between Broadview and Pape is of an area that has gentrified and yuppified (do people still say "yuppie"?) far beyond my experience. But I first spent time on this strip twenty-five years ago, so I tend to see what I remember and regard the new as temporary. I'm sure my next trip there will be a different experience.

Streets, communities, and cities do change. In some cases this can create an inadvertent history lesson; the life of Jarvis Street in particular has fundamentally changed since Stroll's publication, and it's likely to change back again before a revision could be published. So while the content isn't quite 'evergreen', some of it could make for a hardy perennial.

Fortunately Stroll doesn't delve too much into the specific details that are most likely to change rapidly, and the larger-scale stuff is going to be worth knowing about even if the specific form shifts over time. So even two years after its publication, I still find the book both fascinating and relevant.

Stroll is an obvious choice for people like me, being from and/or living in Toronto, and with an interest in its built form and communities. Indeed, the local civic-political interest seems unusually strong these days, thanks to the good governance and tireless city-building of Mayor Nenshi the implosion and de facto abdication of Mayor Ford, so the market for the book could be growing.

What I'm not sure about is if anyone outside of Toronto would find Stroll rewarding. Its writing is entertaining and engaging; I like reading about the bits of the city that I haven't been to, so perhaps others elsewhere could also find it interesting even without the geographic connection. The good news is that Coach House has some full chapters available for free online, making it a no-risk inquiry. Well worth checking out – especially the one about the street I live on.

last updated 11 may 2012

SOPA/PIPA

Concept: 0 out of 5
Execution: 0 out of 5
Yeah, but: If it's pro-business and the Globe And Mail still hates it, it's really bad.

The Long Version: I have an odd relationship with American copyright law. I'm affected by it without being subject to it, but Canadian copyright law – at least under the Conservative government – will eventually aspire to match it. So I've only been paying minor attention to the current SOPA/PIPA kerfuffle up until recently – frankly, I figured that the DMCA is bad enough that I wasn't really expecting anything much worse.

Life's full of surprises.

I want good copyright protection. I'm generally a photographer, and images are easier to appropriate and use than songs or movies. I'm concerned for the font designers and independent creators who are out there trying to be paid for their work, but that's not who wrote out their worldview and expects it be made into law.

Thewsreviews inherently depends on photographing and describing other people's products, and I usually have some criticism on hand even for things that I love and recommend. But even though I'm nothing more than a tiny fleck of lint in the blogosphere, I've always been a little wary of whose toes I tread on.

The morning after I wrote my review of the NBC Studio Tour I had a half-dozen hits from an internet address that's assigned to their New York headquarters, and I have to admit that I was half-expecting an unhappy letter on very nice stationary as a result. Fortunately, they seem to have an unexpectedly good sense of humour, or they just appreciate that I own the full set of The Pretender DVDs.

But what if taking down objectionable content was easier than a libel suit, with less recourse than a take-down notice? I'm sure that the packaging for Gary Fong's collapsable lightsphere is copyrighted, but I need to reproduce it in order to critique the tremendous implausibility of its before-and-after photos. I was careful not to call it fraudulent or false advertising, because I don't know that and can't prove it, but SOPA/PIPA creates an entirely new concern. A complaint about copyright infringement – asserted, not proven, and without an opportunity for rebuttal – could remove this entire website from the American edition of the internet.

Corporate culture and communications are crowding further and further into public space. There would be no way to take part in the civic discourse about Toronto's "info pillars" without a photograph of the entire installation of an Astral Media advertising billboard, including the copyrighted Bell Canada advertisement. Those photos made it all the way to city hall. Should the companies that are the subject of the criticism have the right to block them from being seen? Fortunately for me, everyone involved in this example is Canadian, but it's a very real scenario for Americans who formerly liked the whole 'free speech' idea.

Thewsreviews is a hobby blog; I hope that people find it entertaining and useful, but it's here because I and a few others enjoy creating new content for it. I'll keep it going for as long as it remains engaging, but that won't include the time between 8am and 8pm on January 18, 2012.

last updated 17 jan 2012

"American Signs" by Lisa Mahar

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: I'm getting old, and possibly grumpy.

The Long Version: I'm a photographer who loves signs, but it took me a very long time to pick up this book when I was last shopping at Swipe. I've been burned before, discovering over and over again that photo books with blindingly obvious and mundane titles contain noting more than blindingly obvious and mundane photos, and road signs are a popular topic for artless and automatic photography. When I did finally grit my teeth and pick it up, Lisa Mahar's book "American Signs: Form and Meaning on Route 66" blew me away.

The blurb on the back cover of a book can be very revealing, so that's a good place to start. I completely agree that "with its insightful writing, clear graphic diagrams, and hundreds of contemporary and historic [sic] images, American Signs is a singular reading experience and a groundbreaking study." It completely devotes itself to the study of motel signs, which reflect a distinct set of challenges as the business try to differentiate themselves from the competition and attract customers that they have never seen before and will likely never see again. Awesome.

The book looks at trends across about fifty years, breaking each era into its own chapter. All follow the same structure, making it easy to see and contrast the changes over time. It becomes a fascinating sociological study, showing changing attitudes through the names of colours and businesses, and tracking travel patterns through the height of the signs and the arrangement of their elements. The shift from vernacular craftsmanship to professional industrial design, the rise of branding, and changes in fabrication techniques are all within its scope. There are a couple of points that I can quibble with, such as naming a particular typeface that isn't depicted in the accompanying image, but the book serves its purpose as a general guide rather than a specific survey.

Possibly the best praise that I can give a book is that its insights have made a lasting difference in how I see and interpret the world. American Signs has certainly done that, and now when I look at the sign for a business I pay attention to the emphasis of "name" and "function". It's how each business subtly communicates how it sees itself and its role within the local community. My appreciation of that is directly because of reading American Signs, and I'm sure that Penny also thanks Lisa Mahar for giving me one more reason to be distracted when we're out together.

Back to the back cover. Signs "are complex pieces of design" and American Signs analyzes "their concept and influences, typestyle and color choice, form and composition, context and placement."

So with such emphasis on "typestyle and color choice" in the content of the book, I have to say that the typesetting and colour choices in American Signs are a huge disappointment. The majority of the book is set in what appears to be six-point type – an uppercase letter "T" is a mighty two millimeters high – as if Lisa Mahar was writing nothing more important than a series of captions. Most of the text is black on white pages, but occasionally it's reversed to an even lower contrast white on a red-orange page that echoes the cover. When the text is larger it's in that same accent colour on white, which turns out to be not much more legible despite its increased stature.

The typesetting for the introduction deserves special mention. Text elsewhere in the book is restricted to a single page, but the introduction spans better than ten pages and four double-truck photographs. That means that there's a double page of text alternating with each double-page photo, and any photo printed that large is clearly meant to be looked at. The elegant thing to do would be to end a paragraph before each photo spread, or at least finish the sentence. That way the reader can complete their thought, admire the art, and then rejoin the narrative with minimal mental disruption. Not only does that never happen, but twice the page break leaves the reader hanging on a hyphenated word. In ragged-right text. Seriously, who does that?

Yes, my last birthday put me on the wrong side of 37, and my eyesight has never been the best. But reading the minuscule little text in anything but brilliant lighting is impossible at any comfortable distance. The vast deserts of white space that could otherwise be put to productive use just makes the designers' adherence to its layout grid all the more senseless. Typography is supposed to invisibly enhance the content of the book, not substantially diminish it. That the format of a book specifically about communication and information design would fall down so badly is a real pity, because American Signs is "a groundbreaking study" that deserves to be read and appreciated properly.

last updated 7 sep 2011

NFB's Log Driver's Waltz

Concept: 5 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: The word is "birling".

The Long Version: There are a few things that always make me feel Canadian: American attitudes towards firearms, their Republian party, and my fond memories of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. When I was a kid in the `80's, CBC-TV would play the Log Driver's Waltz, a short film from the National Film Board, in between my saturday morning cartoons. I loved it then, and still smile when I see it today.

Watch it on the NFB's web site here.

Seeing it now – as an adult – I have a better appreciation for its opening cheekiness, and I wonder what sort of reaction it received in 1979. ('If you ask any girl … what pleases her most from her head to her toes, she'll say "I'm not sure that it's business of yours…') The now-classic animation is playful and fun, and I can't imagine any way that the latest computer technology would make it any better.

Something that would benefit from modern technology is the NFB's store; they sell their collection on DVD instead of allowing digital downloads. I'd happy buy a high-resolution digital copy even though it's streamed for free, but I just can't bring myself to pay the premium for yet another plastic disk. Instead I've had to make do with downloading just the song by Kate and Anna McGarrigle, which is good but not quite the same thing.

last updated 1 July 2011

Abstract Expressionist New York at the Art Gallery of Ontario

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Everything's bigger in New York.

The Long Version: I've always wanted to be able to say: "Well, when I saw this show in New York, ____________" and now I finally can. Almost. While they're both called Abstract Expressionist New York, the AGO exhibit has the tagline "Masterpieces from the Museum of Modern Art". That's a subtle but important difference between the Art Gallery of Ontario and the MoMA show, from which the AGO takes all of its multimedia. I'll return to that at the end of this review.

The AGO's AbExNY show is nicely put together, with large information cards at the base of each painting. These can be read from anywhere in front of the art, and provide information about the artist and perhaps a bit about their work. This is a vast improvement over the little 5x7" cards on the wall that need people to come right up to read them, and must be a huge part of why the AGO's guards were so relaxed. Now I wonder why it hasn't always been done that way.

The larger rooms have carpeting with a metre-wide hard border on their perimeter, which is a nice way of enforcing a respectful distance. Smaller rooms with wooden floors have the traditional calf-high rope barrier to identify the art – a cue that's often appreciated for modern works – and ensure that it remains unperturbed. Photographing any art is explicitly prohibited by the AGO, but I didn't see that ban enforced in any of the many times that I saw it being broken.

The two biggest stars of abstract expressionism must be Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. Rothko is represented by two of his surrealist works, three of his brighter paintings, and three from his darker period. The lighting in his room was nicely done, with a lower ambient level that let the colourful paintings be brightly lit while the more somber ones were allowed to be darker. It was both sensitive and suitable. It's just a pity that the seating in the centre of the room is too uncomfortable to spend quality time on.

Given Rothko's appeal – his was by far the most crowded room, both in Toronto and New York – and the scale of his work, it makes sense that these are among the largest canvases in the show. It was Rothko's work that first caught my interest and introduced me to colour field art, and it is worth the price of admission just to see these six paintings.

The other headliner of the collection, Jackson Pollock, is likewise given a room to himself – his wife is left to wait outside – and is also represented by a good range of work. My tastes have always run toward minimalism, so Pollock's not a good fit for me, but this is still a room that's worth spending a lot of time in. The seats here are considerably more comfortable than those in the Rothko display.

The AGO's AbEx exhibit spans from the late 1940's to the end of the 1960's, and while the headliners of Rothko and Pollock are clearly the stars of the show, there's a sampling of other works from their contemporaries as well. Some of these stray into surrealism or recognizable subjects, but for the most part the focus is confined to a slice of time and geography that won't disappoint anyone looking for the popular abstract expressionist art. If this sounds like you, and you're within striking distance of Dundas and McCaul, it's worth spending an hour or two at the AGO.

And really, that concludes my review of AbEx:AGO, and writing it has stressed my knowledge of art far too much already. If what I've already written sounds good, you will like the AGO's Abstract Expressionist show. It's the reason why I bought an AGO membership, and have gone to see the collection three times in its first two weeks. I've been quite happy with the AGO's accomplishment of having the art moved to Toronto for the summer, but that's not quite my only reaction. What follows is merely a wildly impractical and personal reaction, unfounded supposition, and general nonsense.

When I saw the Abstract Expressionist show in New York, it was huge. An entire floor of MoMA had been devoted to it, where the art spanned a wider range and went into a greater depth. On my first visit to the AGO's AbEx show I found myself looking for the rest of it. ("Nope, that's the gift shop.") The AGO exhibit, as exceptional as it is, is clearly a travelling show. I can't help but feel that display space, transportation, and insurance value all played a huge part in the art selection process.

The exhibition in New York gave Barnett Newman a room to himself that was dominated by massive canvasses, while the AGO has only a few of his smaller and narrower paintings. As good as Abraham is, it's no substitute for Vir Heroicus Sublimis. In Toronto Jackson Pollock is also represented by mostly smaller canvases that simply don't convey the same impression as the bigger paintings carry in their home city. Perhaps perversely, I found myself disappointed that one of Rothko's smaller peices from MoMA's display – an untitled work in grey and black, with a white border – didn't make the trip. Some people are just never satisfied.

Likewise Cy Twombly and Jasper Johns are nowhere to be found, and while I recognize that Johns mostly lies outside of the scope of abstract expressionism, his gesture paintings were included in New York and would have been a great challenge to the Pollock/Rothko pairing. At the same time, the AGO has devoted two large walls to small framed photographs from Aaron Siskind, Harry Callahan, and others. While these are worth seeing, they're not why anyone is coming to Abstract Expressionist New York. On the positive side, they're framed with such reflective glass that looking at the photos is a great way to see the rest of the show.

While it may seem churlish of me to compare an exhibition drawn from MoMA's vast collection to the display that they sent to another nation, the AGO invites the comparison by using the multimedia from the MoMA exhibit. Have a look at those videos for a glimpse of the scope and depth that was offered in New York – the "Masterpieces from the Museum of Modern Art" isn't quite the same. I'm thrilled to have such a great collection so close to home, even if it's only for the summer, but doesn't replace a trip to New York and its many exceptional galleries. My advice: do both.

last updated 7 june 2011

99% Invisible

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Now I want to meet a vexillologist.

The Long Version: 99% Invisible is a tiny radio program about culture and design that's also a podcast. New episodes are mostly weekly, and past episodes have covered maps, city flags, sound design, concrete graffiti, cheque cashing stores, the considerations of authority and democracy in public space, and the possibilities of sending someone on a one-way mission to Mars. Pretty amazing stuff. It's rare for me to listen to an episode without scribbling a bunch of notes on ideas and websites to investigate.

Hosted by Roman Mars, the stock episodes run about four and a half minutes, although there are some extended podcast-only shows that break double digits. It's tightly focused and well edited, and strikes a great balance between providing enough depth without bogging down into the esoteric. Roman Mars serves as an eloquent narrator and provides bridges between interview clips from interesting people.

One of the best things about 99% Invisible is its production quality. Sound really matters, and there's none of the nonsense that mars so many amateur programs. Forget about those synthetic musical riffs accompanying long self-indulgent intros, and instead enjoy high production quality with some fascinating backing music. This is professional all the way, and it's worth listening to just for the sound of it all.

For further reading, there's also an article to check out on transom.org, which is a site worthy of exploration for anyone who's interested in capturing or sharing sound.

last updated 29 apr 2011

Pocari Sweat

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: I have no idea how to rate this.

The Long Version: William Gibson writes something broadly called "speculative fiction," and his trademark is combining media, technology, and popular culture into a near-future mashup. His novels seem outlandish for the first fifteen or twenty years, but after that it's harder to remember what the big deal was. His fascination with cultural oddities in general, and Japanese culture in particular, shows through with some inventive product names like 'Come Back Salmon' and 'Pocari Sweat'.

Sometimes life can be like that.

The decidedly non-fictional Pocari Sweat is an 'ion supply drink' that's been sold in Canada for at least eight years, which is when I first saw it in a local grocery store. It's also relatively easy to find for sale online, where the option to get a powder cuts down on the shipping cost. As a sports drink it's essentially salty sugar water, and tastes like thin sweet lemonade but with a lingering grapefruit aftertaste. I'm not a fan of grapefruit, but the combination of sweet with tart works fairly well, and when it's chilled the flavour is subtle enough that it's easy to drink.

But it gets better.

The various product websites are full of gems. The global site is an elaborate justification of the scientificy benefits of the drink, with statements like "It is well known that sweat is salty. This proves that sweat is not just water. Since sweat is made from body fluid, many electrolytes are lost during perspiration." The english-language site for the Philippines recommends the product after long hot showers, to ward off hangovers, and when enduring bouts of diarrhea. Seriously, I know that dehydration can kill, but how many times do you see the word diarrhea in a food ad?

I imagine a pocari looking like a cute cross between a hamster and a ferret, but with really big eyes; the manufacturer, Otsuka Pharmaceutical Co., hasn't actually released any photos of these creatures and doesn't comment on their care beyond their corporate statement that pocari don't really exist. But we heard that same story before the Oompa-Loompa doping scandal broke, so I can only trust that no actual pocari are harmed in the production of the beverage.

But realistically, I'll just stick with Coke.

last updated 26 feb 2011

Spacing's Toronto Subway Buttons

Concept:  5 out of 5
Execution:  3 out of 5
Yeah, but:  But it's not like subway stations are pretty.

The Long Version:  It takes a certain amount of faith in Toronto to come up with a merchandising idea for the Toronto Transit Commission, and an even bigger leap to produce them yourself when the TTC rejects it. Over five years ago the crew at Spacing Magazine took it upon themselves to make and sell these buttons that take their themes from the tile patterns and names of each of Toronto's subway stations. Available directly from Spacing or through a who's who of the coolest stores in the city, they report that over 120,000 have been sold to date.

The buttons themselves are an inch across – even us metric-for-life types still measure in inches – and the colours are a good match to the original stations. There's not much to say about them mechanically; they're decent little buttons, and won't disappoint anyone who has seen one before, but they don't really advance the state of the art of bottondom either. The brilliance is in the concept and the variety, and indeed they've gone on to make buttons of highway signs and the emblems of some of the original towns that are now part of Toronto as well. In a further advance, these subway buttons are sold individually, as a complete set, by lines, and even by "ends". The set that I have is the middle end of the system, comprising the lines that cross through downtown.

It just happens that this button set comprises pretty much my entire world within this city. In fact, with the sole exception of Bathurst, I pass through each one of these stations every time I commute to and from my day job, including both levels of St. George and both platforms at Spadina. And while I will occasionally venture into the eastern arm of the Bloor-Danforth line, my west-end experience pretty much ends at Bathurst station. Toronto is an unusual city in that its psychology is divided in half by Yonge Street, and people typically stay on one side or the other, rarely crossing it when it comes time to move. Despite our currently living on the western side of Yonge, Penny and I are both east-enders at heart, and being included in Spacing's downtown subway set further insulates me against the hard reality that the street numbers are going the wrong way.

While it's beyond the scope of this review, Spacing has also put their button factory to other good uses. Toronto's inner suburbs have recently elected a mayor who campaigned on the idea of depriving them of decent public transit, so it's no surprise that this has been an entertaining few months of city politics. For example, His Worship decided to kick off his term with a flourish by inviting Don Cherry, hockey's answer to Rush Limbaugh, to be a guest speaker at what should have been a largely administrative event. Nattily attired as always, Cherry's speech began: "Well, actually, I’m wearing pinko for all the pinkos out there that ride bicycles and everything… I’m being ripped to shreds by the left-wing pinko newspapers out there — it’s unbelievable. One guy called me a jerk in a pink suit so I thought I’d wear that for him too today."

The answering buttons were inevitable, and available in two versions.

Ah, Spacing – where would we be without you?

last updated 16 Feb 2011

The Robertson Screwdriver

Concept: 5 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: No relation.

The Long Version: The Robertson screwdriver is a Canadian touchstone, somewhat like the RCMP, moose, and poutine. As something that's demonstrably superior but under-appreciated across the rest of the world, well, if it wasn't Canadian by birth we'd probably adopt it.

We're funny that way.

The Robertson screwdriver has a square head that provides an exceptional grip on the screw, but without the over-tightened bite of its American replicas. Like Helvetica and Arial, the Robertson and square-drive screwdrivers look a lot alike, but where one is a refined design of elegance and function, the other one just looks similar. A proper Robertson screw will cling to the driver without it being magnetized, and yet it disengages smoothly when the job is done. There's enough power in the tapered fit that a Robertson driver will still extract a screw that's been painted into place, and they don't strip or jump the way Philips screwdrivers will.

Robertson sizes are denoted with colours instead of numbers. The medium-size that's most common is red; anyone who calls this a "#2 Robertson" deserves arched eyebrows and a thorough looking-down-on. Black is the largest size, with green being smaller; yellow and orange are smaller still but much less common. Typically the handles of a fixed-bit driver will show the colour of the size, while interchangeable bits should be painted to suit. Picking the right driver out of a clutter of tools is quick and easy.

While they're ideal for almost everything, Robertson screws are most likely to be found in woodworking and electrical - if you're lucky enough to find them at all. In America and elsewhere in the world these are either unknown or a small niche (rhymes with quiche) for specialty manufacturers. Even in the country where they were born over a hundred years ago, the genuine Canadian invention is almost completely subsumed within the sea of knock-off products imported from all over the world.

It's hard to get more Canadian than that.

last updated 23 feb 2013

NBC Studio Tour @ 30 Rockefeller Plaza

Concept:  2 out of 5
Execution:  1 out of 5
Yeah, but:  Spotting NBC talent is rare, but not impossible!

The Long Version: When the ticket-taker said "wait there" and waved indistinctly down a hallway that curved out of sight, I should have realized that we were in trouble. True, disinterested and unhelpful people abound in New York in general, and its service/tourist industry in particular, but I shouldn't have been so jaded that I missed the warning signs. So perhaps in some way I'm responsible for what came later, but even while standing unattended behind a rope I still didn't see it coming. What happened next was the NBC Studio Tour, and yes, the fact that I can't link into its website in a way that avoids the animated intro should be yet another warning. But it's too late now, so let's proceed.

The NBC tour at 30 Rockefeller Plaza starts with the tour group shuffling into a small auditorium to watch a promotional video. While inside, we're told of the many upcoming delights of our visit - like no bathrooms, anywhere inside the NBC complex - and are sternly admonished to turn off our cell phones. "Not vibrate, not silent, not airplane mode: OFF." There's also Strictly No Photography, because everything we're about to see is "highly copyrighted". (That's the exact phrase that appears in their FAQ web page, which I can't link to.) I wasn't aware that copyright comes in different levels, but since NBC was recently fined millions of dollars for pirating someone else's intellectual property, maybe they know what they're talking about. Or perhaps, like some other image-based companies, they think that adding a superlative to the correct term will impress people.

With fifteen minutes of our hour-long tour now past, we were marshaled into a long queue for our security screening. Blogger Bob himself would be proud of its combination of intrusiveness and unpleasantness; if anything, the TSA screeners are more friendly and personable. The studio prohibits anything that the FAA won't allow on an aircraft, so forget about bringing that toner cartridge, but they also ban children under the age of six "for security reasons." I never realized that a preschooler could actually be used as a weapon, which must have some pretty serious ramifications for Disneyland.

Once cleared through security, the next challenge was the elevators. Our sizable group used two of them, which explained the two tour guides, and this was by far the most crowded I'd felt in the entire visit to New York. On the positive side, doing head counts and trying to squeeze everyone in provided the biggest spark of genuine enthusiasm that I saw from our guides throughout the tour. I don't know if this is because there's a betting pool going on in the staff room, or if there's a precedent of people sneaking off - I wasn't inclined to ask, and both options seem plausible.

The tour doesn't follow any established route, so it's impossible to say where it goes next. As the unlinkable FAQ points out, the building is "a very active working environment", so the tour is sent to whatever area has the least likelihood of having anything interesting happening. Not surprisingly, that turned out to be the stage for Saturday Night Live. More specifically, it turned out to be the glassed-in corridor above the bleachers for the live studio audience - but at least the hall was lined with photos, so there was a chance of seeing a publicity photo of someone famous as we hustled past. This explains why that wonderful FAQ page says that "spotting NBC talent is rare but not impossible" - although I doubt that they meant it as a double entendre.

Back through the elevators again and we're rewarded by being able to look through the glass of a dimmed control room, get shown an outdated video loop about makeup for SNL, and then the tour concludes with an audience-participation exercise involving a mock broadcast and some painful moments with a teleprompter and green-screen. There's also the mandatory souvenir prom-photo moment, with prints and DVDs available for purchase at the end of the tour.

We both felt a little stunned as we walked away from the NBC Studio Experience. I was certainly thinking it, but Penny was the first to say it out loud: "Thank Gosh for the New York Pass." That's the flat-rate tourist pass that we were using to see the city, and it meant that we hadn't actually handed over $20 - each - for the tour. I still think about all of the other things we could have done with the time, but at least that's all we were burned for.

But who knows? Maybe other people loved it; maybe it's the perfect moment for someone out there somewhere. Just because it wasn't right for me, and just because I can't conceive of who would really find this tour worth its time and expense doesn't mean that it couldn't happen. If this sounds like you, then please, please, please add a comment to say so. And never let it be said that I'm not an optimist.

last updated 29 dec 2010

Radio City Music Hall Stage Door Tour

Concept:  2 out of 5
Execution:  4 out of 5
Yeah, but:  I may just be really lucky.

The Long Version: I'll admit that a tour of the Radio City Music Hall wasn't high on my list of things to do while on my honeymoon in New York City. I recognized the hall as a landmark when I walked by, and have some idea who the Rockettes are, but otherwise wouldn't have gone out of my way to see the interior. What a mistake that would have been - and her wanting to do the Stage Door tour is yet another example of how my wife is smarter than I am. I have no problem admitting that.

I know that I'm lucky, and in this case we were able to take the tour with a very small group. Our guide, Shannon, was exceptional: bright, interested, and involved in the life of the theatre. There was never that horrible reading-from-a-cue-card feeling, and she cheerfully answered any questions that our small-but-enthusiastic group had. I felt like I saw a lot of the building, and came away with an interest in its history that I never would have considered before. When Penny and I go back to New York, we'll probably make it just a little later in the year than our last trip just so that we can go back and see the Rockettes perform. After meeting one of the dancers in person, and getting a glimpse of their rehearsal, how could we not?

Photography is permitted through most of the tour, but I really don't have anything that captured the magnitude of some of the interior spaces. The tour itself lasted over an hour, but I can't say exactly how long because I was never inclined to look at my watch. Instead I just enjoyed myself and wandered along in amazement. After a crushingly bad experience elsewhere in the Rockefeller Center, the Radio City Stage Door tour restored much of my faith in the whole guided-tour tourist experience. Seeing a show at the Music Hall will be mandatory for the next time we're in New York, and we'll probably take the tour again as well.

last updated 28 dec 2010

Wendy's "Natural" Fries

Concept:  2 out of 5
Execution:  1 out of 5
Yeah, but:  Even I can't believe I'm reviewing a potato.


The Long Version: Fast-food burger restaurant Wendy's launched their New And Improved french fries almost a month ago in Canada. For those who aren't familiar with them, French Fries (aka "Freedom Fries" for my American readers) are narrow strips of a nutritionally deficient beige root vegetable that has been turned into candy by cooking it in one of the least healthy ways possible. So right off the bat, Wendy's efforts to attach connotations of wholesomeness by calling their new product "natural" is problematic at best.

So what's the difference between "natural" fries and the ones that they've served for the previous four decades? They're not peeled, and they use sea salt. Exciting times.

Wendy's previous favourite foodlike meal-filler were unremarkable but inoffensive; the new product has neither virtue. Thinner and stringy, they look like a 'grunge' version of the ones from McDonald's that go stone cold in the time it takes to eat a McNugget. The vaunted sea salt still has the same sandy table-salt texture, and there's far, far too much of it. A single 'medium' serving now contains one third of the RDA for sodium, up from a mere 23% for the old version.

From information gathered from their respective nutritional information web pages:

• Mcdonald's fries per 100g - 319 calories, 15g fat, 239mg sodium.
• Wendy's fries per 100g - 295 calories, 14g fat, 352mg sodium.

While french/freedom fries are never going to be healthy, Wendy's has moved in exactly the wrong direction on this. But even beyond the whole "real" and "natural" marketing spin, which is almost too absurd to be insulting, the results are bad. After three unsuccessful attempts to like them, I'm now actively avoiding Wendy's fries. Fortunately there are other foodlike fillers on their menu, but so far my solution has simply been to go elsewhere for lunch.

What can I say? For me, this is the straw that broke the Frosty's™ back.

last updated 6 dec 2010

Red - The Movie

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Toronto-spotting is a hobby of mine.

The Long Version: I'm not someone who goes to the movies very often, but when Penny tells me that she's scored a pair of comp passes to an advance screening, I'm not about to stay home. So tonight I found myself sitting in a packed theatre waiting for the start of a movie I'd never heard of, featuring a whole cast of stars that I had only intermittent knowledge of, without any real expectations.

Red - the movie - turned out to be a huge success. It's fairly smart, well put together, and entertaining. In its structure and style, it's almost more of a 'caper' movie than an action/adventure thriller. Being based on graphic novels gives it a certain super-hero aspect to some of the characters, but it's more of a postmodern too-cool Tarantino style than Superman, if you know what I mean. Some of the camerawork and choreography brought gasps from the audience; the price of admission is worth it just to see the most awesome exit from a police car ever conceived.

While this is an exceedingly violent movie, it's not heavy on the gore. People tend to disappear in bloodless explosions or get nocked down - there's no sense that we're in the middle of a first-person shooter video game or a slasher movie. And even places where it does get quite graphic, such as a direct grenade hit in the container yard, it tends to be as much of a visual shock as a horror show. Red doesn't seem to revel in human suffering as much as The Expendables did. In fact, I generally found that particular Badass Grandpa movie much less satisfying than this one, and Red never felt like a vanity project. If you're tying to decide between the two, unless you're a huge Stallone fan, pick Red instead.

I think this is the first time I've gone to an action movie and come away thoroughly impressed with the acting. Sure, Morgan Freeman's a given, but John Malkovich stole every scene he was in. And then there was Bruce Willis - who knew?

Even while I was watching the movie I was making plans to buy the DVD. Red will be great on a decent TV with a good sound system, but it really is worth seeing with an audience. This could become the first movie I'll watch in the theatres more than once since - I'm embarrassed to say this - Pump Up The Volume. For those who can't think back to 1990, that's the movie where Christian Slater plays a disaffected and maladjusted youth. In my defence, it had some redeeming moments (nsfw), and I was sixteen years old. But I digress – Red is one of the best movies I've seen in a very long time, and not to be missed if this genre is something you think you'd like.

Kirk Gleason

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: My excitement must be clouding my ability to judge comedic hyperbole.

The Long Version: "Kirk" is the character played by Sean Gunn on the long-running TV show "Gilmore Girls". He's clearly a good idea that occurred to the creative powers just a little bit late; his first appearance is in the second episode as a walk-on character who's installing a DSL line. At that point he's called Mick. Gunn's first appearance as Kirk is when he gets into an altercation with Miss Patty in Doose's Market, where he's working as an Assistant Manager. The conflict arises because Kirk doesn't know who Miss Patty is; later in the series Kirk has transmogrified into a life-long Stars Hollow resident who used to study in Miss Patty's dance classes.

Kirk Gleason appears in 137 out of 154 episodes, making him one of the most common minor characters. But even his important roles tend to be fleeting; Paris and the Grandparents are seen in fewer episodes but are always significant characters. Poor Kirk is never in control of the scenes he's in. Instead he spends his time filling quiet moments, adding character, providing transitions, and occasionally being a plot device, and yet somehow he manages to do every odd job in the entire town. On our last run through the seven seasons of Gilmore Girls, Penny and I kept track of his different jobs:

DSL Installer (as 'Mick')
Bird delivery (credited as 'Swan Man')
Assistant Manager at Doose's (first appearance as Kirk)
Flower Delivery
Photographer
Mechanic
Waiter
Exterminator
Video Store Cashier
Skincare product developer ("Haythere")
Waiter at Weston's Bakery
Beauty Supply Store Cashier
Hockey Announcer
Mailman
Daily Topical T-Shirts
Pizza Delivery
Mold Inspector
Skydiver (paid $20 by Taylor)
Alarm Installation, Star's Hollow Security
Custom Mailbox Salesman
Dog Walker
Pedi-cab Owner
Notary
Mailbox Store worker
Doose's Market Cashier
Wedding DJ
Firewood Delivery
Movie Theatre Worker
Handbill Distribution - "Lunch at the Dragonfly!"
Bath and Shower Adhesive Decals salesman
Twickham Souvenir Sales
Tow Truck operator
Estate ring salesman
Kirk's Doggie Daycare
Real Estate Agent Trainee
Owner, Yummy Bartenders
Owner, Kirk's Diner
Gift Wrap salesperson
Official Town Sash Maker and Presenter

This list isn't counting his roles that were probably volunteer positions, like being an historical war reenactor, playing Joseph in the Christmas pageant or being the tallest person in the children's production of Fiddler on the Roof. He also has roles in every town event or scheme that Taylor has going, so he's the one handing out maps from the Historic Star's Hollow booth, and Kirk's the one in the hi-viz vest when the red-light camera goes up. It also doesn't count his hobbies, like being the Asaad Kelada of Star's Hollow. Next time we watch the series - all seven seasons are on DVD - we'll keep at least a couple more lists.

TVTropes.com has a few opinions about Kirk as well, thinking that he fills the Village Idiot role, as well as being the one who never has anything good happen to him. They also point out that his mother is one of the 'ghost' characters who's often mentioned but never seen. (Gilmore Girls has a few of these - Lane's father, Mr. Kim, is occasionally mentioned but there's never any evidence of him, and East Side Tilly has the inside scoop on all the gossip but never makes an appearance.) His other distinction is that he may be the only character on the show who speaks at a normal speed.

Kirk is in no way a central character in the Gilmore Girls world, but he'd be missed if he went away. His inclusion in the cast is one of the better ideas that they had - and as with most things, late is better than never. If someone decides to go all Tom Stoppard on him, and creates a spin-off show in the spirit of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, I'd be all over it. There would be so much great material to work with - and he's the only one who could pull it off. Like Rory said, he was always a cat person, he just never had a cat.

Old Crow Medicine Show Concert, Toronto, 13 July 2010

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Yes, I like Bluegrass. Is there a problem?

The Long Version: Concerts in particular, and music in general, are things that I really shouldn't review. I hardly ever go to concerts, don't really know anything about them, and yet somehow I've been to three of them in the past nine months. Each one has been a lot of fun and very loud, but it's hard to compare them since the genres have been so different. Still, one of the great things about the internet is the universal ability for people to speak beyond their authority - and it's far too late for me to stop doing that now.

Old Crow Medicine Show is a band that's a little tricky to pin down. They're a string band with at least a couple of banjos, acoustic guitars, and an occasional harmonica as well. A couple of cowboy hats were in evidence, but nobody was trying too hard: they certainly look a lot like a Bluegrass band. And of course they sound like a bluegrass band as well; I have to admit that listening to Willie Watson speaking reminded me of Boomhauer on King Of The Hill. I don't know if he was just mumbling through muddy speakers or if it was a legitimate accent, but dang ol', man, I could barely make out a word he said.

But just the same, this is far from a traditional jug band. They're decidedly modern, with roots as solidly in rock and roll as in bluegrass. So while there were some loud "yee-haw!" noises coming from the audience, it was hardly a New Country revival with wall-to-wall white suburbanites wearing snakeskin boots and checkered shirts over their Garth Brooks Souvenir Belt Buckles. It was more wall-to-wall pale folks in ball caps and the occasional sex pistol t-shirts, who might also listen to Nirvana or reggae in their spare time. What can I say? I fit in okay.

The doors to the very large, very dark main room at the Phoenix Concert Theatre opened at 7pm, and the band came on at twenty after eight. There was no opening act, just a solid hour of music followed by a bar break. Old Crow came back on again and played hard for about another hour and a half; the show wrapped up after a single encore slightly before eleven - just about right for a Tuesday night. Here's the setlist for the show at the Pheonix; songs that I didn't recognize and haven't been able to track down are simply left with a placeholder question mark, those marked '*' have been added with thanks to the thread at Old Crow Fans.

• Hard to Love
• Down Home Girl
• I Hear Them All
• Wheeling Breakdown (Instrumental)
• My Good Gal
• Humdinger
• Caroline
* We're All in This Together
• Next Go Round
• My Bones Gonna Rise Again
• Gospel Plow
• Big Time in the Jungle
• Minglewood Blues
Break - 30 minutes
* Shortnin' Bread
• Alabama High Test
• Let It Alone
• Highway Halo
* Trials & Troubles
* Raise a Ruckus
• New Virginia Creeper
* Reubins Train
• Mary's Kitchen
• Four Strong Winds (a Canadiana song written by Ian Tyson)
• Crazy Eyes
• Hard to Tell
• CC Rider
• Wagon Wheel
• Tell It To Me + band intro
Encore:
* Cowgirl in the Sand
• Fall On My Knees
• Tear It Down

There's lots of places online to hear anything from snippets to full songs, so I won't worry too much about describing the music. I like it, others won't, and that's life. What really impressed me at the concert was the sheer power and enthusiasm of the musicianship. It was stunning to watch them play - whether it was on a banjo, mandolin, or acoustic guitar, their fingers were often blurred to the point of invisibility. Ketch Secor shredded the bow for his fiddle during the first half, came back from the break with a new one, and had it shredded by the end of the show as well. Poor Willie Watson had to replace and tune a guitar string during the band intro. While Secor and/or Watson sing most of the main vocals, everyone but Morgan Jahnig – who had his hads full with the Upright Bass – lead at least one song. This is a very talented and hard-working band.

There were a couple of people in the audience - literally, two of them - hooting all night for 'Crazy Eyes', which surprised me because I've never particularly cared for it. On the other hand, I would have loved to hear 'Take Em Away' and 'Methamphetamine', which somehow didn't make it into the set. But hearing 'Hard To Tell' and 'Tear It Down' live was awesome, with huge energy from the audience, and 'Wagon Wheel' was probably the biggest hit of the night as a giant sing-along. The two blatant ode de pénis songs weren't quite as popular with the two women to my left, but upbeat numbers like 'Humdinger' kept us busy fending off drunken dancers for most of the night. Good times.

Having seen the band roaring through their two-plus-hour set, and knowing who's doing what, has made me like their recorded music even more. When hearing voices in harmony, I can now picture them singing together instead of suspecting that they're layering tracks in post-production. And while many of the songs were played faster at the show, I can absolutely imagine them rocking just as hard in the recording studio.

Next time they're here, I'll be there.

Canon EF 70-200 f/4 Collector Cup

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: Funny: peculiar or ha-ha?

The Long Version: These mugs have been a huge phenomenon - there are probably more people looking for one of these than the replacement for the 50D. Canon has always had a way of building up buzz, and this is no exception. Highly sought after and rarely seen, this replica is a brilliant idea. And there's no saying how much milage they could get out of it - a 300/2.8 pitcher, 85/1.2 coffee cup, 50/1.8 shot glass - the possibilities are tremendous. But alas, some dreams are best left as fantasies: I have to say that it looks better in photos than it does in person.

The packaging has the same image on all four sides of the box. The top is sealed with a clear plastic sticker, but the bottom is simply the four sides folded inward and can be undone. Inside, the mug is in a loose clear plastic bag, and includes a small paper slip with care instructions on it. Aside from all the obvious warnings about hot beverages, spillage, and metal in a microwave, the 70-200 mug also isn't for carbonated beverages and has to be washed by hand. That means that its pristine collector status is in no danger from me - I'm not about to use anything that can't be put in the dishwasher.

The 70-200 does have a metal inner liner, suggesting that it could be used as more than a novelty item. And perhaps, like a Leica, keeping it protected on a shelf is to keep it from its true calling. I occasionally get together with a few photographer friends to relax and compare prints in a local coffee shop, and the idea of using this mug is pretty tempting. If they didn't know that I mostly use Nikon and Panasonic, it would be even better.

I said in the beginning that this cup might be better as an idea than a reality, but perhaps I'm being too harsh. The level of detail is good, but not exacting; the rounded corners to the plastic give it just hint of a Burger King feel. But the key is that it's a tribute, not a replica - it doesn't look like someone actually hollowed out a real lens, it looks like someone made a mug that looks like an actual lens. Aficionados like myself can immediately recognize which lens it's supposed to be, and when Penny saw it, she laughed out loud and thought it was great. Since she's not a photographer, but has to put up with one, that's a stronger endorsement than anything I could come up with on my own. Hopefully Canon takes the idea and runs with it.

William Eggleston: Democratic Camera

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's a twofer - a review of the book and the exhibition.

The Long Version: William Eggleston is one of the early greats of colour photography - the American south's version of Henri Cartier-Bresson, perhaps. While they're certainly not for everyone, Eggleston's casual and spontaneous-looking photos typically have a deeper structure and content that rewards extended viewing. (I've never really 'gotten' HC-B's images, but perhaps like William Albert Allard, I see in colour.) But even beyond the question of personal taste, there's no doubt that Eggleston is an important and pioneering photographer, and this collection of images that spans nearly fifty years is a fascinating study of a strongly consistent body of work.

The reproductions in the book "William Eggleston: Democratic Camera" (ISBN 978-0300126211) are beautifully done, and the book is well produced. Images typically occupy only the right page, with some two-page layouts where the photographs strengthen each other. Only the occasional image is spoilt by extending across the gutter; I continue to miss the appeal of that approach, but it is a fairly common thing for photography books. Rounding out the front and back are essays and information that provides additional context for the photography.

The book is a physical experience in its own right, being almost a foot tall and over an inch thick; my kitchen scale thinks that it weighs just under five pounds. Finding it for sale might also be an experience, as Amazon in the USA and Canada are "temporarily out of stock". Currently the Canadian chain Chapers/Indigo is also sold out, and at a price that's about 50% higher. Nifty work, that. And while I'm on the subject, Amazon's Canadian sold-out price is also almost 20% higher than it was when they shipped me my copy. I'm not about to endorse the prices that some of the used vendors are asking for, but if I had paid $60 for mine, I would still think it's a good deal. It also happens to be one of the best souvenirs I could hope for.

Doorway detail, taken with permission, ARTIC.

Put together by the Whitney Museum of American Art - in association with Haus der Kunst, Munich - the exhibition "William Eggleston: Democratic Camera, Photographs and Video, 1961-2008" is a vast photographic collection that's currently on tour. I was lucky enough to catch it at the Art Institute of Chicago, where it's on display until May 23. Starting in November, and lasting through the start of their so-called winter, the exhibition will end its tour at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. As good as the book is, the originals are much better.

Many of the images on display use the sublime Dye Transfer printing process. The reds of this famous photograph are intense, rich and varied; blue skies are smooth and keep their colour all the way to the edge of black. The application of this expensive and nearly extinct process to Eggleston's snapshot-like photographs of ubiquitous objects can translate into a certain gravitas; it could be the launching point for a discussion of fine-art photography and its place in the (art) world. Instead, I'll just say that it produces some amazing results, and leave it at that.

The photo reproduced above is one of my favourite images - how could it not be? - and it's also an excellent example of why seeing the book, and the original prints in the show, is so important. Mine is an absolutely horrible reproduction. Nothing looks the way it should. In the book, the sky has sophisticated colours and tones; in the dye-sub print, the sign is almost luminous with a beautiful colour harmony. This feeble copy has been demolished by its colour space and compression.

It's tempting for me to pretend that what's on the screen looks like reality. Seeing good art, either in person or in quality reproductions, is worth the extra effort. William Eggleston: Democratic Camera has been a refreshing experience.

For a lively, interesting, and much better-educated discussion of the Art Institute's exhibition of William Eggleston's works, head over to The Online Photographer for the articles written by Mike Johnson and Ken Tanaka. All I can really add to their insights is that I didn't think it was that dark in there.