A moment later I passed a man of around 70. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket and wrap-around sunglasses, the sort of look a suburban 50 year-old dad with a rock n’ roll heart might sport at a concert. He sat alone on a patio eating an omelette and drinking a half-liter of white wine–somehow anachronistic, as if a postcard from another era. It was a perfect autumn day and he was unhurried, inhaling the sunlight and pretty girls walking by as if they were oxygen– the leaves turning purple and orange around him.
And from not far off, the sound of opera drifted unexpectedly through traffic. In a language imagined rather than understood, a woman’s voice, clear and controlled, rose and fell to a piano keeping pace. The music was coming through a church window, and upon hearing something so perfect in its accidental trajectory, I had to close my eyes and let the world become just that one thing.
After this, as a means of contrast, Rachelle and I watched Commander Hadfield’s return to Earth. For those of you who are not Canadian, Commander Chris Hadfield is a Canadian Astronaut who has spent the last 5 months on the International Space Station. It was here, through his use of Twitter– where he accumulated nearly one million followers—that he became something of a folk hero.
Avuncular, proportional and competent, Hadfield seems like a really, really nice guy. A Canadian guy. His moustache is friendly, like the sexually non-threatening moustache of a well-liked high school teacher, and his manner is sincere, thoughtful and fun, but still, you know this guy is operating at a very high level. You want him as your next-door neighbour. He would know what to do when the power went out and you thought you heard something funny in the basement.
Attached to a parachute, the Soyuz space capsule drifted down from space into a field in Kazakhstan like a child’s toy. A bunch of unofficial looking Russians then went over, as if farmers inspecting something that had fallen from the past rather than the future, and pulled the astronauts from the capsule. This was done without the least trace of urgency, like something they were practicing for in their street clothes rather than the main event.
The first out was the Russian and he looked hale, hearty and ready to start tossing a Kettlebell around. The next to follow, the American and Hadfield, looked small, pale and a little worse for the wear, like space travel extracted a physical toll.
They were all put on what looked like unmatched lawn chairs and gave the cameras the thumbs-up. Our CBC commentators were giddy, gushing about how robust and great Hadfield looked. It was surreal, like watching some weird variation of a Soviet propaganda film.
Regardless, what Hadfield did on his mission was utterly wonderful. From his photographs, videos and tweets, he shared with the public a suggestion of what might be considered the divine. The world is stunning in its beauty, and by extension we, all just brief, tiny organic outcroppings of the same living entity, are beautiful, too.
There are many who think that the International Space Station is a huge waste of money, one that doesn’t provide sufficient scientific benefit, but Hadfield, (his Space Oddity video was the most watched on YouTube Monday) showed us that data is perhaps secondary to the opportunity to see ourselves through eyes never imagined.
This is what is said:
Anna:
On Saturday, at about two in the morning, I stepped into a cab that was blaring opera.
It was completely unexpected and absolutely beautiful. The taxi was speeding through the mild, winter night with such light and joy contained within—we were a dazzling secret. Oh, I did not want to get out of that cab–the two of us, the driver and I, we could have gone until dawn as far as I was concerned. Keep the meter running, cabbie, let’s unroll the windows, let’s pour the music out into the streets and have the stars fall in.
I wish I had moved to Toronto with you, I wish I had loved you better.
RM
]]>It always seemed a little bit like New Year’s Eve to me. I’d feel all sorts of pressure to have a great time, make fancy plans, and then at the end of it all, feel as if I’d been at the wrong place all night, and then bitter and depleted, would end up walking home.
The sheer volume of people who attend Nuit Blanche disassembles whatever plans I had, and inevitably I’d spend most of my time texting lost friends.
Yr @ Dufferin Grove??
U said Dundas, did’t u??
The commissioned works that have the most promise always have endless, Disneyesque lineups that stretch 90 minutes into the future and the ambient art that serves as the connective tissue between the major installations has a souvenir stand feeling to it. In short, it gives me the sense that I just participated in some weird variation of spring break.
And so this year Rachelle and I felt little remorse about skipping the event. Instead, I participated via social media, opening up my Twitter feed to all the glory that was Nuit Blanche:
E-gene
Get ready for a stupid flood of poor-lit photos of unknown subject matter tonight on Twitter and Instagram. #sbnb
MryW
“Let the art speak for itself” — a girl after overhearing my bf’s interpretation of an exhibit. #sbnb
ESTRONG
Man beside me carrying bananas. Art or groceries? #sbnb
I’m at a high five competition … Haha #sbnb
Ion
I am supposed to be looking with a critical eye at #sbnb pieces, but really I am just drink drank drunk.
Alfagrrl
It’s the little things during #sbnb that make me smile. Nothing new here but makes me love my city!#sbnb
Petalpusher
Green frogs light up. Sometimes less, sometimes more. In background people scream about vodka. Latter not part of exhibit. #sbnb
Petalpusher
Some ass just fell off friend’s shoulders and whacked me in leg. He then tried to apologize with Italian opera. Yep, #sbnb is now messy
Blackcrown
#sbnb Not going out for Nuit Blanche is the new going out for Nuit Blanche.
if i ever find the FUCKING asshole who stole my seat & straps i will fucking CUT YOU TILL YOU BLEED & take my fucking bike gear back. #sbnb
Overheard: “Nooo! They are not having sex! They are being hung upside down by fish hooks!!” #sbnb
ashsper
Saw some interesting #sbnb stuff along bloor. Especially liked the ‘choir’ at the church at Walmer/Bloor. Soothing
“Yo, that sh*t is f*cking sick!” Woman (on drugs?) repeatedly yelling at performers in classroom at end of the world exhibit #sbnb
shannnnon
If you’re on a bike, you better ding that bell. Losers running into streets, taxis are swerving, drunk people barfing on curbs. #sbnb
sytc
45 minute wait at All Night Convenience at #sbnb you know where to find me
shedoesthecity
In Trinity Bellwoods people are playing tennis & renegade dance parties compete with shite #sbnb dance party. Skip park, go to castle!
Overherd
The funny thing is we’re not even looking at art we’re just drunk #sbnb
Anchorman2
Cab Driver: “let’s get the fuck out of here” #sbnb
HelenofCry
CRAZY lineups!!!#sbnb
AnnaVanna
LOVE Nuit Blanche, beautiful art!!!#sbnb
sighfactory
For those of us who have lived here for every rendition of#sbnb, tonight is just a yearly nightmare.
Makhoul
A field of glowsticks. #sbnb
Nina24
I walk #sbnb alone. Much prefer it solo. Ending night on a swing. Sean Paul blaring in background but tranquil here. Love this city.
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