Nuit Blanche 2009

Nuit Blanche. Saturday, October 3, 2009.

"To the man who loves art for its own sake, it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived."

— Sherlock Holmes

This year, I said, I was really gonna "do" Nuit Blanche, Toronto's, ahem, "free all-night contemporary art thing". Saw a few things during the inaugural event, a nice evening out with friends, though it ended fairly early. I was out of town two years ago. Last year there was, er, an incident, and I was in bed, sleeping it off by about eleven p.m. and saw no art whatsoever. So, I was eager this year to put in a fuller effort. Had a list of three or four things I most wanted to see and a vague notions of things I was semi-interested in. Perhaps it's no surprise that the things that interested me most were some of the sound installation pieces.

Heading back into the core after the Yo La Tengo gig, decided to start with the geographical outlier on my list and then work towards where stuff was more clustered. So, hopped off the subway at St. George, about one a.m., wanting to go check out the goings-on at the Royal Conservatory of Music. Walking from the subway, it had an unusual feel for a Saturday night, disco music blaring from a flatbed truck parked on Bloor, fair number of people bustling about. Walked over to the RCM to find a substantial line from the entrance down on Philosopher's Walk back onto the sidewalk on the street. Paused and considered my options. Did not feel like standing in line, so I moved along. Had a couple friends I coulda called, with vague plans of possibly meeting up to wander around, but I was feeling not so much like I wanted to try and co-ordinate plans with anyone, so just went on alone.

Walked around the corner, past a giant queue at the ROM, and down into Museum station. It was a kinda fascinatingly heart-warming panorama on the subway, full, at this hour, of people clutching their maps and guidebooks, flipping through and pointing things out to friends. Heaps of people with fancy camera gear. It was as if there was some sort of spectacular treasure hunt going on.

Things felt less romantic hitting the streets. Got off at Union, figuring I'd just amble northwards and see what I could see. Big crowds on hand, plenty bunches of loud, obnoxious drunken partiers, empty cans and bottles littering the streets. Bay Street was closed off to vehicles, but still quite packed most of the length up to Queen Street. Ducked in to see Witches' Cradles, a sensory-deprivation installation whereby members of the crowd would be suspended in dangling sacks. Which might be interesting if you were in one, but as a spectator event was dull. Watched the "cradles" dangle for a few minutes, and vaguely thought, in a schoolboyish way, that it'd be cool if the curators starting swinging them into each other wrecking ball-style — and moved along.

Moved along up through Wild Ride, a working simulacrum of a carnival midway. Set up amongst the Bay Street towers, it was meant to be a comment on the reckless roller-coaster nature of capitalism, etc., etc. This was, at least, big and open and fun and participatory on a large scale, with people lining up to go on the rides and so on — not that I was particularly interested. Walked past a woman crouching beside one of the clown-head garbage cans, camera held out at arms' length to get a photo of herself and the freaky vista. Wondered idly as I walked by why, with all these people around, no one was offering to take a picture for her. Stopped a couple steps further on, half-turning around as she was scowling at her camera screen and getting ready to take another picture why I wasn't offering to take a picture for her. Turned. Moved along.

Starting to feel my energy level lag a little. Moved on, stopping by City Hall, giant LED's strung between the towers spelling out random four letter words. It read "DOWN" as I went by. Cut over to Yonge Street, which was a bloody zoo — why wasn't this closed to vehicles, too?¹ Inched my way northward, past groups of drunken young men doing that "Olé, olé, olé!" football chant, towards one of my most-anticipated events, the sound installation at Massey Hall. Got up to Shuter and saw the end of the queue in front of me, beside a sign reading, "Please note there will be a 75 minute wait from this point. Thank you for your patience." I was not nearly that patient and kept going. Passed through Dundas Square, with plenty of people milling around under the illuminated advertising screens, and walked over to the Atrium on Bay.

So far I'd been running an oh-fer on the stuff I wanted to see, so I was feeling wary as I headed in to check out The Element Choir. Here, however, as I made my way over towards the chanting/singing noises, the crowd was manageable enough. Stood and watched for a few minutes as indefatigable leader Christine Duncan led her choir with a series of sweeping gestures, and then turned to the crowd to conduct them as well. Talking Guy — one of the choir's most distinctive instruments — started talking about "buckets of paint", and Christine picked up on this and soon the whole place was shouting, "buckets of paint!", and members of the choir were singing about it, and it was getting passed back and forth. With audience members coming and leaving, some room in the foreground where people were sitting on the floor opened up, so I grabbed myself a spot and settled in for a spell. After everything so far, it was actually a bit comforting to see some familiar faces, especially among the band that were setting up beside the choir. A half-dozen guitarists, a bass or two, one drummer, with the musicians, like the choir, coming and going from time to time in shifts. The band came in with an improvisatory-but-controlled noise-rock jam, spelling off the choir for a bit, but soon the two were playing off each other, the band building from quiet to loud mostly as the choir was doing the opposite. It was nicely captivating, and really turned my night around.²

Check out some action from the choir + band here.

I'd been flagging before this, but was suddenly re-energized and feeling more well-disposed towards the nuit. After about forty-five minutes, I realized I could stay here anchored for hours, or I could go and try and see more while I had the energy. So, when the music reached the end of a large swell, I stood up and, slightly sadly, made my way back out to the street. Which, circa 2:45, was feeling colder and a mite emptier, but the crowds were still substantial. Without much hope, made my way back down to Massey Hall, where the queue was actually slightly longer than it had been before. Considered my options. Thought I could try and make my way over toward Liberty Village to see the stuff clustered around there, but wondered to myself how much endurance I'd have.

As a compromise, decided to make my way home the long way, and retraced my earlier route in reverse, heading back to Koerner Hall. This time, there was no lineup, and a pleasingly small number of people around. Sadly, the live environmental performance of James Tenney’s In a Large Open Space ("one note performed in unison by musicians on various instruments, with ever-expanding layers of electronic music") had been replaced by a pre-recorded version, but it was nicely done, with different elements being mixed in through various speakers throughout the space. The building itself — the newly opened prestige recital hall for the Royal Conservatory of Music — was very lovely, a beautiful space. Given the sort of music this facility caters to, it's doubtful I'll see many gigs here, so it was nice to have a chance to wander around, find a seat and settle in for a bit.

In fact, to just take some time and let the ambiance soak in was a highly soothing experience. Between the etherial notes (note?) being played and the gently ululating curves of the ceiling,³ I felt a sense of peace come over me, all of the minor grumpiness of the night easing away. This is what music is supposed to do, isn't it?

Bliss out to the ethereal sounds here.

Sat and soaked that in for fifteen minutes or so, then did a wander around the rest of the facility — a very lovely job all around. And then, I was feeling like I'd seen enough. Headed to the subway and made my way home. Turned out to be one of those less-than-stellar late-night TTC experiences, but what can you do? Got home, grabbed the newspaper on my doorstep and went up to bed.

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¹ In fact, why is the event catering to the automobilists at all? Given the crowds, the smart thing to do would be to close an area — say, Front to Dundas and York to Yonge — to all non-emergency vehicles except the TTC.

² One can only imagine the logistics required to co-ordinate a twelve-hour continuous music performance, so it's no slight to the choir to think about how much more could have been done if the band had the time and the resources to really occupy the space. There were some attempts to decorate in the area, silver foil taped along the glass barriers and so on, but the band still kinda just felt plunked down in the space, Looking around, I was imagining what it would be like if there would have been mini-choirs at each of the balconies on the several floors of offices rising above and so on. But still, a lovely experience.

³ The ceiling is, in fact, a sort of architectural cousin to the wavedecks that appeared along the waterfront this summer.