Personal lessons learned from a City

Hamilton is considered the armpit of southern Ontario, Canada. 

It knows this, but keeps on anyway. 

It has mouths to feed. 

There are a number of huge multi-national Steel manufacturers that dominate 

the landscape in many more ways than one 

- one being the smokestacks. 

   

Another being a blighted downtown. 

 

Downtown Hamilton has lovely bones - as you can see above, 
but the bones are often neglected.Though there are bits of revival, 
money lives in the bland burbs upstairs...with fear. 
Perhaps downtown is too close to the dirty interior of our lives? 
a little too disarming? naked?

Downtown Hamilton is a stone's throw from the manufacturing core. 
It carries on its shoulders the burden of stench and scum that accumulates when you are a steel town - a manufacturing town - the bi-products of all of our consumer desires, strewn about like someone's dirty laundry.

 

Yet there are a growing few who find respite in the grit of downtown - those who can live with and derive life from the chaos, and those who have no choice.

Other than Canada's favorite coffee place - Tim Horton's

- which found its birth in this city, 

there are hardly any big box type stores or franchises 

anywhere in the downtown core. 

Most stores are mom and pop shops, all with their unique names and store displays

- everyone is free to BE in their own store - to add their personality to the place,  

to name it whatever pleases them - maybe name things as they are.

No fancy pants about it.

                                                            

The tired conformity of the Martha Stewart aesthetic 

is nowhere to be found.

And Lululemon, if she ever was here, would have fled, 

screaming up the hill, a long time ago. 

The thing is, downtown Hamilton is real, terribly real. 

It does not hide from itself, but rather, 
makes itself at home -  with itself.

It can relax and does not fear its own motled skin.

It is OPEN to itself and embraces the balance of Yin and Yang. 

It does not resist what is real, but nods to it.

                              
it does not wait for itself to be acceptable

      before it loves itself. 

All photos taken by Marcella Corroeli Jager, 2008.

Art is a funny thing

My homemade art collection, most from me, some from my sons, would not achieve gallery status, admittedly, but since this is my blog, I can punish you with some of it. Yes, here we have a bunch of old kitchen utensils, hanging, rather teasingly i might add,  in a shop window. 

My photos usually tell good stories, so stay with me...even though i often have to explain them myself. The saying "a picture is worth a thousand words" doesn't apply to my, well,  pieces. Usually when people look at them they have no words. nothing. speakers block. they are usually very nice about it though.

if staying quiet and slowly walking backwards is nice.

The above and below pics are shop windows in Hamilton. Have you ever been downtown Hamilton, the whole bit of it? It is a fascinating and lovely place. there are shops that sell stuff with their original 1966 price tag intact. there are shops that sell things that only freaky-brian would buy. there are shops that sell vintage clothing without the pricey pricetag. there are also shops that would not be caught dead in downtown Oakville, or actually, the shop owner would be FOUND dead in downtown Oakville.

 

Oakvillians, especially the Lakeshore residents,  tote guns for certain, special events, such as a gaggle of Canadian Geese gathering on their (lake) front lawn. There is also the event of a shop owner turning up the notch of excitement and turning down their nose to the bland hohum luxury of downtown Oakville.

 

i particularly love the name of this one. i can just imagine what the downtown Oakville Business Association would say to the applicant:  "um, well, we see you can afford the rent (i guess where you come from anything with joint on it achieves a certain status?), and Oakville does love its dollar stores, but, people just don't want to be seen going to one, well, downtown, especially one with such a , er, colourful name. Now if you had a name printed on a parisian window canopy thing like, "Dollar Trendz" or "Designer Dollaire" or "Made in China 4 YOURs Truly" , that might help your application along...though you would have to instruct your staff not to chew gum and wear those gawdawful walmart outfits..."

i digress. the title of this piece refers to art as a funny thing.  and it can be funny...but what i mean is funny in a curious way. Art, even my mundane photos, can arouse some thought.

Art can provoke and make one uncomfortable - this is good - its not just about pretty and perfect, all framed and contained, though that has its use too...

i guess the art you like, the stuff on your walls, and the stuff you choose not to have up,  the stuff you admire or not, always tells more than you'd want it to. or more than you'd believe ever possible. one day i will give you the (sad) tour of my house. that should explain plenty.