You might have seen the black and white posters around town promoting John Patrick Mills' gallery, one of only two realities inspiring some verve into Ottawa's art scene of which I am aware. (The other was the irreverent, now-defunct dharma arts.)Buried in raising my young children as I am, I'm out of touch and do recognise/hope that there must be more. I never made it to one of Mills' gallery parties. These gorgeous, videotaped affairsattracted everyone from bongo drummers to mothers with babes in arms, and artists set up easels in the sculpture garden to document it all. Mills was shut down this year amid a typically-Ottawan outpouring of sour grapes (unsurprisingly, unFolding's Mike Levin rallied to Mills' side). The same lack of spirit last year pushed our singing bus driverout of his chair, too. Stuff like this makes me ashamed of Ottawa, which I normally love. I don't mind small, but we should try for feisty. Respect to Mr. Mills, who says he won't let this upset stop him.
* * * In honour of the fact that I signed up for that anatomy class, Anatomy of the Figure, I'm trying to focus away from faces in my current drawings.