Stephen Weir

Headless in Judea: Atom Egoyan Dials Back the Kink

2013-04-23T17:51:53-04:00

The opera SALOME opens in Toronto

Atom Egoyan believes it wasn't adolescent angst that made a young princess demand the head of a prophet as payment for dirty dancing in front of her stepfather. No, says the Canadian filmmaker (Exotica, The Sweet Hereafter, Chloe) who is back directing the revival of the opera Salome, it is all about voyeurism, frustrated desire, paranoia and the decay of the human soul.

The Canadian Opera Company's eight-performance run of Oscar Wilde and Richard Strauss's Salome, at the Four Seasons Centre For The Performing Arts in Toronto, marks the return of the celebrated Canadian director. This is the third time that he has directed on the Toronto stage, the often-shocking opera about 13-year-old Salome (danced by Linnea Swan / sung and performed by soprano Erika Sunnegårdh), her Dance of the Seven Veils and the beheading of John the Baptist -- the prophet who foretold the coming of Christ.

"In terms of the Biblical references, in terms of Oscar Wilde's rendering of her, she was an adolescent, I don't disagree with that," explains the director. "But I don't think that is the point. I am not of the opinion in this production that her behaviour is the action of a petulant teenager who wants her way; it is something much deeper than that -- we are using this depth as a launching pad."

Oscar Wilde wrote the play in 1891 at a time when it was illegal to depict Biblical characters on the English stage. To avoid this Blue Law, he penned the work in French, a language he had never before written in.
The work was completed in one sitting. And the result? Oo la la! Shocking. Outrageous. Beyond the pale. The controversial play wasn't produced on the Paris stage until 1896 at which time Wilde was in prison, ostensibly for the crime of being gay. Strauss, the German composer, saw the production and built a German opera around it.

This is Opera's take on the New Testament's most vile female villain, Salome. It is Salome, the Princess of Judea, who demands the head of Jochanaan (John the Baptist) in return for performing the Dance of the Seven Veils in front of her stepfather Herod and his court. The year? About 35 A.D. and Salome lives in Jordan, with her morally bankrupt mother Herodias and her perverse stepfather, Herod (who in real life not only permitted the beheading of John the Baptist but gave Pontius Pilot permission to crucify Christ).

Salome's desire for the imprisoned Jochanaan -- who spends his days screaming out Herodias' sexual irregularities from a cell underneath the minimalist sloping stage, is mirrored by a soldier's tortured infatuation for her, and Herod's own lust for his stepdaughter. Consumed by suicide, rape, murder and passion, the Royal family is inevitably torn apart by these destructive obsessions.

Celebrated Canadian tenor Richard Margison, dominates the stage as King Herod. According to the COC, Margison is "hailed for his ringing top notes and spine-tingling power. Margison is one of the most critically acclaimed singers on the international stage."

Hanna Schwarz, a noted German soprano makes 69 the new 40 in her portrayal of Herodias. A few months short of her 70th birthday, Schwarz owns the stage and sings, unmiked, in a strong voice that seemingly has lost none of its range.

At the opera's original premiere, the audience and critics were shocked by its subject matter and erotic themes; Salome's world of voyeurism and sexual abuse still elicits an equally visceral response today, although this time around, Egoyan has dialled back on the often-explicit interpretation of Salome.

"I can't help but look at Oscar Wilde's play and see that he is dealing with something that he might not be completely aware of himself, of something being held back, " continued Egoyan. "This was written late in his career when there were all sorts of pressures building against him, which lead ultimately to his tragic death. I think he was very aware of this idea of how a voice can be stifled, suppressing all the forces that go into repression and the effects that it has on the human soul, the human condition. I think he put a lot into this play that he might not have been aware of on a conscious level."

"It is one of his most challenging pieces of text, it is very difficult to mount as a traditional play because his language is so over wrought, so purple, but, it works wonderfully as a libretto."

"In a traditional presentation of Salome the set is referred to as a Biblical court where there are these courtiers, guards and various hangers-on" explained Egoyan during a break in Salome's final rehearsal. The current "set is stripped away and we are in the antechamber of some strange sanatorium. Everything is being videotaped, there is surveillance everywhere and this supports the idea of King Herod's paranoia."
"Everything that happens outside his immediate view is being recorded. So this is a heavy sort of sub theme in the Opera because we are dealing with voyeurism."

When it comes to costumes, Egoyan gets tied up in the Space Time Continuum in settling who wears what. The Royal family is in togas, the hired help carry Glocks and are dressed in cheap 1950s style suits and the Jews and the Nazarenes are in white face, bald wigs and all white suits reminiscent of the costumes worn by the aliens in the movie Dark City.

The camera toting characters skulk. The men in white are wide eyed while the principal characters can't seem to make eye contact with each other.

"Salome is looking at Jochanaan, who won't return her gaze and you have another character, a female page, who is in love with the head of the Guard and he won't return her gaze either (although he does let her perform Toronto's first operatic fellatio interruptive on stage -- he shoots himself in the head during their sex act)," said Egoyan.

In death, Jochanaan's head still can't return Salome's gaze. She sings to the head as if it was alive and asks it why it still refuses to look at her!

"This idea of frustrated desire and voyeurism -- people looking at something they can't have is woven into the piece," explains Atom Egoyan. "I think the music by Strauss supports the idea of this turbulence and paranoia and these very extreme emotions."

The Canadian filmmaking director has dialled back some of the erotic shock value he employed in his first go at Salome. Salome's dance and subsequent gang rape in front of Herod is done in this production in a multi-media fashion. Salome dances on stage behind a scrim along with shadow puppetry, for seven-minutes, heightening the tension on stage and leading to the bloody climax of the is 90-minute long operatic Bible story.

Salome runs for eight performances at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts on April 21, 27, May 1, 4, 7, 10, 16 and 22, 2013.

Photograph Page of the Salome Dress Rehearsal and Director Atom Egoyan by Stephen Weir and George Socka

YOU TUBE VIDEO -- George Socka's video of Stephen Weir's interview with Atom Egoyan

Atom Egoyan's website

Canadian Opera Company's Salome website

St Joseph's Mojo Moves Homes In Strange Ways

2013-01-18T15:33:42-05:00

I have been a publicist for has-been TV stars, up-and-coming authors, and even convicted (but innocent) murderers. So I am probably the last person that should be canvassed for an opinion, but I believe that aside from St. Joseph, everyone and every product needs a publicist.

As I like to say: Bad news? Good news? Not enough news? In need of an ego boost? Have Press Release, Will Travel! St. Joseph is the big exception -- and that is thanks to me, in my role as a very active word-of-mouth publicist!

One need only look in the backyards of desperate home owners praying to sell their homes in a buyer's market to see why He doesn't need a holier than though public relations firm. St Joseph is the man. He was the husband of Mary, the Mother of the Saviour Jesus Christ. He is now the patron saint of real estate agents.

He has global fame, albeit, from beyond the grave, that can't be matched by the drawing power of mere-mortal movie stars. He doesn't need no stinking backstage badges, PR agents or press kits. He is an above ground, underground and half-in-the-ground world-class star.

Right now, although you won't likely hear about it anywhere else except on this blog, Joseph is the saint you call on when you can't sell your house!

"Bury him backwards in your backyard, make sure you put him upside down facing the house," said my California real estate agent a few years ago. " Once you have planted him, step back and wait for the offers to come in!"

I called my wife back in Toronto and told her about St Joseph, the patron saint of lost real estate causes. We were having trouble selling our Cabbagetown home. It was a down market. The curb value had dipped when a thief broke into our house during a real estate agents' open house!

My spouse went to a Bible Store and asked for a statue of Joseph. "Sorry, we are all out of single statues, " said the clerk. " We only have Joseph carrying the Baby Jesus. Want them?"

"Fine, I will take it," my wife replied. "No need to wrap them up." She drove back home and planted the plaster statue, taking care to keep Baby Jesus' head out of the dirt. One day later, we had an offer on the house!

Two months ago I told that true story of Joseph to my business associate and urged her to get digging. She and her husband have built a home on Lake Simcoe and are leaving their large Oakville home behind. Trouble is, a year ago she would have gotten multiple offers for the place -- but now, things were very bleak.

" I did buy St Joseph, just like you said," my colleague told me over the phone." I went to a church store and asked for Him. I told the clerk what you told me to do. She had never heard of it before. She laughed and thought the store should advertise their St Joe statues to real estate agents."

St Joseph, sans Baby Jesus, was planted in the backyard of the Oakville home. The next day my friends had TWO offers for their home. They sold the house and as I write this they are busy packing.

At Christmas time, a single mom who comes by my office every week to clean up after me, complained that she had put her house on the market in the fall and found a buyer, only to have the deal go sour two-days before closing. Since then, no one had shown an interest in her Toronto property.

I told her the story about St Joseph. She decided to give it a try. The next week she came back to tell me the ground was frozen and she hadn't been able to bury Joe. The house was still unsold.

"Buy a flower pot and put him in it," was my sage advice. "Make sure he is upside down and facing the house."

Today, she came up to my office to thank me for the tip. Her house was sold above-list a day after the pot was put out. She moves in mid-February.

I never can keep my mouth shut about folk tales, especially when they are true. I should copyright my stories. My tale about St Joseph has spread around the world. I was in a store on the Danforth buying bacon-flavoured candies (don't ask) and noticed that a California company was capitalizing on St Joseph and selling, for just $9.99, a plastic statue of his likeness for backyard home-for-sale burials.

By the way, even though home sellers across North America have profited from my sage advice, sadly our family did not. We did bury St Joseph in our backyard and we did accept a great offer on our 120-year-old downtown Toronto house. But, one of my sons, a toddler at the time, didn't understand why the man and baby were buried in the backyard. He pulled the statue out and gave it to my wife. Minutes later the phone rang -- the buyers were backing out.

Joseph was reburied, but to little avail. It took another three months and a price cut before we sold and moved. Joseph came with us. It wasn't his fault. And who knows what happens to your new house if you toss out the old home's Mojo?

In 2012 Our Best Achievements Were Underwater

2012-12-31T08:49:54-05:00

Ignore what Captain James T. Kirk said. In 2012 the final frontier was underwater.

Never in the history of the planet has mankind ventured so far under the surface. And, in pushing the underwater boundaries, more individual achievement records were set this year than ever before. From the seven-mile underwater depth record set by Canadian filmmaker explorer James Cameron inside a futuristic one-man bathysphere, to freediver Ashley Futral Chapman who went down to 67 meters (223 feet) and back on a single breath of air, new milestones continue to be made and to be broken.

Skimming through our back pages we noted the following achievements, albeit some of them pretty dumb, that were reached over the past 365 days.

In January, members of the Czech Speleological Society discovered and mapped the world's fourth longest underwater cave, Ko'ox Baal, which is over 56.5 kilometres long. In surveying the underwater passageways, Mexico's Ko'ox Baal is now the longest underwater cave system that is mapped in the world.

Yes, you can text underwater with your iPhone 4. In January, 2012, the Keystone ECO
MarineCase, became the world's first waterproof case made specifically for iPhone 4S/4. Put your iPhone in the slim waterproof case and it works to a depth of 21 foot (7 metres). A diver can take images and video underwater, as well as playback, email, text data and use apps below the surface. (You can't talk on the phone though.)

The Casio watch company has begun production of the world's first sport diving underwater transceiver that lets divers talk to each other while scuba diving. The Logosease is a transceiver that is attached to the strap of a standard diving mask, allowing divers to talk and hear normally with scuba regulators in their mouths. The company says that "wireless communications is enabled by ultrasound and bone conduction technologies." It works to a depth of 180 ft.

In April, students from a U.S. Ocean Engineering program posted an extended YouTube video of the world's first (and only) Hamster-Powered Submarine. The sub, made out of a plastic soda bottle, held a dry live hamster and its exercise wheel. The hamster ran in the wheel, which turned a propeller, driving the sub slowly underwater. The sub's maiden voyage was made in 2009.

In May a group of Saudi divers built what they described as the world's first underwater mosque. The divers used massive plastic pipes filled with sand to construct the symbolic mosque off the northwestern town of Tabuk, close to the border with Jordan. After constructing the mosque the divers performed prayers inside the open concept structure.

A small tabloid dive story caught our eye in June. British newspapers called it the stupidest dive stunt ever performed. Turns out it wasn't a scuba trick but, indeed it was stupid. At the Royal Cornwall Fair the public watched Professor Splash, an American stuntman, perform a death-defying 30 ft dive into just 12 inches of Cornish milk!

The World's Record for Static Apnea was set in June in Chagsha, China. Tom Sietas, a German free diver was submerged in one Plexiglas tank, Brazilian breath holding champion, Ricardo Bahaia in the other. Twenty-two minutes 22 seconds later Siestas was the last to come up for air, he won the world record for holding one's breath in a tank. He beat Bahaia's record by 2.1 minutes.

Hope those California mutts are pool trained! The world's first calendar featuring diving dogs is released in October. LA Photographer Seth Casteel's 2013 calendar is an instant success and has raised money to improve the image of animal rescue and adoption. His new book, of the same name, is now a New York Times best seller!

The World's First Underwater Bingo Game (held in a shark tank). A group of English divers have been dreaming up extreme Bingo games to raise money for charity. The winning stunt? Six players took their Bingo cards into the shark tank at the Blue Planet Aquarium, in Cheshire, England.

Also in 2012 and also in an another British shark tank, the world's first underwater shark tea was staged at the London Sea Life Aquarium. Teatime underwater in the aquarium was done to show that sharks are not "blood thirsty sea monsters." Attending the tea were 15 big sharks including Black Tip Reef Sharks, Nurse Sharks, Brown Sharks, Sand Tiger Sharks, a Zebra Shark and a Bowmouth Guitar Shark.

On Tuesday, October 9 2012, off the west coast of Ireland, Paul Devane set the new Guinness World Record for the longest open saltwater scuba dive in cold water (10 C) at 13 hours and 4 minutes. In 2009, the 33-year-old was forced to pull out of his first attempt due to a technical malfunction: the pee valve on his drysuit that let him void, failed.

In November the world's best female freediver of 2008 broke the world's record but didn't get to keep the title because she didn't stay conscious throughout the attempt. New Zealand's Kathryn Nevatt was disqualified in her attempt to set the world free-diving record for swimming underwater despite swimming the farthest ever swum by a woman. Nevatt broke the current record of 163m held by Russian Natalia Malchanova, (she swam 164m) but lost because she briefly fainted during the 7-minute swim.

Late in November at a free diving contest at Dean's Blue Hole in the Bahamas, Ashley Futral Chapman achieved the seemingly impossible by diving without fins to 67 meters (223 feet) with just a single breath of air in her lungs. The swim lasted 3 minutes and 15 seconds. The 30-year-old American set her third World Record in the freediving discipline of Constant No-Fins.

The Almost-Made-Its:

An Estonian dive club tried to break its own record for Number of Divers Playing Checkers Underwater at one time. Forty-two played games underwater in January 2012, however their old record of 55 players set in 2011 stands... for now.

A team of Australian divers in early February set out to recapture the Guinness World's Record for underwater Ironing. Alas they didn't make it, only 102 divers, ironing boards, irons and wrinkled shirts made it underwater. The record stays in the Netherlands where 173 divers and ironing boards took the title in 2011.

The Canadian Icons Still Getting Fan Mail Long After Death

2012-11-29T12:19:53-05:00

There are signs that the Group of Seven is finally hip with the Canadian people, even those who don't go to art galleries. I was out at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection with a video crew last week. The McMichael has a hot show called Painting In Canada: Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven. It is a show that blew off the doors at galleries in the U.K. and Europe over the past year. It has the best Group paintings from private collectors, the National Gallery in Ottawa, the Art Gallery of Ontario and the McMichael. This is the final (and only Canadian) stop for the touring show.

The show is experiencing record attendance in the public gallery located in Kleinburg, Ontario -- even though many of the paintings have hung in the log cabin gallery for decades. The art gallery going public is rediscovering what has been in front of them all the time. It took a London, England art gallery, the Dulwich, and its curator Ian A.C. Dejardin, to bring the Group and Tom Thomson across the pond for an almost year-long tour. This blockbuster exhibition has managed to rekindle interest in early 20th century Canadian landscape paintings.

At the end of last week's taping I took the TV crew to see the Group of Seven cemetery. It is a quiet thoughtful park that is not often seen by visitors even though one must drive past it to get into the gallery's parking lot. But, now with visitors wanting to see everything Group related, people are taking the time to stroll out onto the wooded grounds and see the graves. Some have attempted to interact with the dead.

We got there and I found that someone had taken the time to write fan letters to the long-dead artists and placed them in front of their rough-rock headstones (the stones were cut from the Canadian Shield when the Trans Canada highway was being blasted through Northern Ontario). Bouquets of wild flowers and even a small stuffed bear pin have been left as well.

Now leaving notes and gifts for dearly departed artists, writers and musicians in Europe and even the United States are not unheard of. The mailman calls quite regularly at Oscar Wilde's gravesite in the Pere Lachaise cemetery in Jason, Paris. (visitors used to kiss his headstone wearing red lipstick, but that is no longer allowed). Jim Morrison's nearby tomb is a veritable dead letter office. A few aisles over, Amedeo Modigliani gets the occasional flower and note. In the U.S., letters and flowers are routinely dropped at the door of Marilyn Monroe's California crypt. In Central Park, fans not only leave cards and letters for John Lennon at the Strawberry Fields memorial site, they also sing him Beatles song marathons... sometimes in key. But in Canada? Never. Until now.

The Kleinberg graveyard, by government statute, is only for the artists who were in the Group of Seven, their wives and for gallery founders Robert and Signe McMichael. Tom Thomson is not there; his death pre-dated the formation of the Group (he died in 1914 and is twice buried elsewhere).

In all there were 10 members of the Group of Seven. All but one of the artists were married. Lawren Harris was married twice. Of the 10 artists who were members of the Group of Seven, six -- Arthur Lismer, Frederick Varley, Lawren Harris, Frank Johnston, A.J. Casson and A.Y. Jackson -- are buried in a small cemetery on the McMichael grounds, along with Robert and Signe. Esther Lismer, Florence Johnston and Margaret Casson are buried there with their husbands. Harris is buried with his second wife, Bess. Jackson never married and Varley's wife is buried elsewhere. I only attended two of the funerals (I am not that old!).

In fact I have been at the McMike on a part-time basis, on and off for the past 15 years. I have spent hours over the years sitting in the cemetery -- best place for cell phone reception. I have never seen flowers, badges or letters left at the grave sites before. I was really curious, but no I didn't open the envelopes. I do know that so far the artists have not responded to their first mail call since their burials back in the 20th century.

More information: Last month my associate, art videographer George Socka interviewed Dulwich curator, Ian A.C. Dejardin last month and asked him why the Group of Seven has suddenly been embraced by art lovers in England, Europe and yes back here in Canada. This video is unique to Huffington Post.

McMaster University professor James King just released a long overdue biography about Group of Seven artist Lawren Harris. Socka has also filed a YouTube video story about James King lecturing about Lawren Harris and Tom Thomson.

Inward Journey: The Life of Lawren Harris is available at bookstores and online.

Canadian Photographer Arnaud Maggs: The Master Passes

2012-11-22T12:28:17-05:00

Eighty-six-year-old photographer Arnaud Maggs didn't suffer media fools lightly. "If another reporter asks me how come I have managed to stay active so long, and what is my secret to long life, I am going to tell him sex and drugs," he groused as we walked out of the Canada AM television studio.

"What about Rock and Roll?" I asked. Arnaud thought for a moment, smiled and answered, "less so." It was in the late spring and Maggs was on a roll. He had had a successful show of his works in Toronto at the Susan Hobbs Gallery. The National Gallery in Ottawa had paid the ultimate tribute by opening Arnaud Maggs: Identification a survey exhibition that follows the senior artist's production over four decades.

And then, the Toronto-based photographer won the Scotiabank Photography Award -- Canada's richest and most prestigious photography award -- and that is where I came in. I had been hired to promote the second annual Scotiabank Photography Award to Canadians.

After winning the $50,000 purse, a book publishing deal and an upcoming exhibition in Toronto in 2013, the photographer was media hot. He was in demand. Radio. Television. Newspapers. We campaigned like he was running for office.

Arnaud willingly made the rounds with me, talking to the art media about his work, his hopes for the future, and, sigh, yes his secrets for staying young. It was not surprising that he would be asked about his age. He was trim, fit and dressed all in black. Large owl glasses, a black porkpie hat and a Cheshire cat smile. He had so much energy. So much life. He looked 60, yet 90 loomed. People wanted to know if it would ever end.

It did. On Saturday November 17, 2012. After a brief battle with cancer, the country's most skilled black and white studio photographer passed away in a Toronto hospice. His wife, artist Spring Hurlbut, two sons, Lorenzo and Toby and daughter, Caitlan, their mother Margaret Frew, nine grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, survive him.

At the time of his death Arnaud was working with Scotiabank on the publication of a book of his life's work. The European publishing house Steidl will issue the book posthumously in the spring.

"His legacy will live on through his art and in the lives of the artists and art-enthusiasts whom he has touched with his work," read a statement issued by Scotiabank yesterday. "His work will be celebrated with an exhibition at the Ryerson Image Centre (RIC) program during Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival 2013. A commemorative book will accompany the exhibition."

"Works by Maggs," continued the statement, "are in many important public collections including the National Gallery of Canada, Art Gallery of Nova Scotia, Art Gallery of Hamilton, Vancouver Art gallery, Art Gallery of Ontario, Art Gallery of Alberta, Winnipeg Art Gallery, and the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts." His work has been shown and collected throughout Canada and Europe (mainly France). In the United States he was included in Charles Stainback's Special Collections: The Photographic Order from Pop to Now organized and toured by the International Centre of Photography in New York.

Arnaud Maggs began his career as an artist in the mid-seventies at the age of 47, after success as a graphic designer and then a commercial and fashion photographer. His early work used portraiture to catalogue the geometry of the face.

For the past 17 years Arnaud has created work from documents related to child labour at the turn of the century, French mourning stationary, the address book of Eugène Atget, a tradesman's sample kit, and a series of invoices from 1891 documenting the clothing purchases of a Parisian couple named Gendot. Also for the first time, he photographed in colour -- a subtle understated use of the medium. As with Arnaud's earlier work, the means of presentation (the arrangement of photographs in grids) persists, as does the general concern of classification

My filmmaking associate George Socka and I interviewed Arnaud for a Huffington Post piece that I worked on earlier this year. We spent an hour with Arnaud inside The Susan Hobbs Gallery here in Toronto at the start of an exhibition he called After Nadar. (Nadar was the pseudonym of Gaspard-Félix Tournachon (1820 -1910). He was a famous French photographer, caricaturist, journalist and balloonist who lived and worked in the city of Paris.)

Maggs was inspired by an 1855 series of photographs that Nadir took of Pierrot, a celebrated pantomime artist. "Maggs," explained gallery owner Susan Hobbs, "has 'restaged' these photographs but with himself as the sitter."

"As Pierrot, Maggs pantomimes making work, collecting, enjoying books and music -- activities that mirror his real life habits and influences in his practice as an artist," continued Hobbs. "Objects such as a 19th century death notice envelope and white enameled jugs, which have appeared as subjects in Maggs' previous works, turn up here as props and suggest an embedded historical survey of his work to date.

In Pierrot the Archivist, over stacks of grey archival boxes -- a common sight in Maggs' studio -- Pierrot contemplates a portrait of the artist as a younger man, a gesture that verges on a contemporary vanitas. In all of these portraits, Maggs has artfully positioned himself as photographer and performer to narrate his own past, present, and future."

In the posted interview Arnaud talks about his exhibition in Ottawa, and about his nomination for the Scotiabank Award. Socka's interview was one of the last that Arnaud would give.

Two Promotional Campaign Fails

2012-11-05T12:58:28-05:00

Saying something loudly doesn't make it true. Doubly so when it is the printed word doing all the yelling.

I was given a card (pictured top) to keep so that I wouldn't forget the show I had just paid to see. Since then the card has been pinned to my corkboard wall. It has been up there for a while. It edges have started to curl. It has taken a couple of Starbuck splashes over time.

I took it down yesterday when I realized the card's message -- Please Keep This Card As Your Memory Of The Show -- hadn't worked. I have no memory of getting that 3" by 4" piece of cardboard. I can't tell you what show I was at when I received the card. An art show? A play? A dance performance?

Hmm. Probably something that was given out at a Toronto Harbourfront performance, since they are the only arts institution these days that has money to print this sort of thing.

I won't ever know now, the card has been moved into my blue bin.

The second written promo that claims I will remember something for life, has a better back story.

Two years ago I was on assignment in the Yucatan. Cave diving. One of the caves came to the surface near the beach community of Tulum. I had been underwater, in the dark, claustrophobic confines of a freshwater cave.

I stripped out of my wetsuit and drove to the coast to enjoy the warm sun, the wide open space and the blue sea (all the opposite of what I had been scuba diving through). Walking the beach I took the above picture of a bench in the white sand.

The chair's signature -- The Only Chair You Will Remember For the Rest of Your Life -- is a big fat lie.

Today I was warehousing photos onto a backup hard drive (my digital blue bin) when I looked at the picture once again. Had to check my notes to see where I had taken the picture. I had forgotten the chair, the beach and even the country I was in when I took the photo.

In the world of PR there is a lot of borrowing. Best though to steal concepts that work. Here are two ideas that you don't want to sneak out of my blue bin.

Evan Penny: Re Figured Sculptures at the AGO

2012-10-15T17:01:20-04:00

Maybe, says Canadian artist but that was a long time AGO

It was the '60s: Vietnam, nuclear testing in the Pacific, Sgt Pepper, and, the Who singing they hoped their generation would die before it got old.

What could be worse than aging? Cutting your hair? Buying a suit? Cubicles? Getting a mortgage?

The song didn't work. Most of us lived. We all grew old. Overnight. No one thought about what was going to happen as the aging process took hold... except maybe Canadian sculptor, Evan Penny.

When Pete Townshend wrote My Generation (with that famous dying line) it was 1965 and the Who were pointing out that older people just "don't get it."

Evan Penny was 12 years old and had just moved to Canada from Africa where his father had practised medicine. He was an outsider on the edge of the Boomer Bubble. He was about to grow old, but, on his own terms. An artist. A prop builder for Hollywood movies. A man who literally "stretched" how Canadians think about sculpture.

In 2006, four decades past the Who's best due date, the Toronto-based artist decided he could use sculpture to figuratively return to the days of his youth, and at the same time flash forward towards a time of his own perceived physical decay.

"How I might feel at the end of my life. What will I look like?" said Evan Penny while standing beside a life-sized bust of himself as he imagined he will look at the age of 90. The wall-mounted artwork is a key piece in an important exhibition that recently opened at the Art Gallery of Toronto.

"This is how might I feel at the end of my life," Penny told me at a press preview for the show. "This second piece (moving over to a sculpture of himself as a 17-year-old) is how I probably felt at the beginning (of manhood) but it is really about me in the here-and-now."

The AGO is the last stop for Evan Penny: Re Figured, following exhibitions at Germany's Kunsthalle Tübingen, the Museum der Moderne Salzburg in Austria, and Italy's Museo delle Arti Cantanzaro. The exhibition is in Toronto until January 6, 2013.

Evan Penny: Re Figured is a solo exhibition that features over 25 of Penny's larger-than-life sculptures, each painstakingly crafted from layers of pigmented silicone, human hair, fabric and resin. Blending abstraction and figuration, Penny's hyper-realistic sculptures straddle the line between object and image, presenting the human form both as it is and as it can be when imagined through the distorting lens of photography and digital media.

Filling the fourth floor, this show, according to the gallery "shows the artist's evolution over the past decade, highlighting in equal measure his technical skill and fresh thinking. Accessible, often familiar and sometime vaguely monstrous, his works engage audiences, young and old alike, on various levels."

"No, I didn't make a mould of myself," said Penny, while fielding questions at a bare-bones media preview held in mid-September at the AGO." However, I did scan myself. From that I made a foam sculpture and a follow-on clay sculpture casting and onto the next step... (a silicon casting, followed by the final addition of hair, pigment and a super realistic paint job!)."

"After all that, there is still the look of myself in there, in the sense of the present and the future."

The sculptor's ability to give his work startlingly lifelike skin colour, comes from his other life, that of a special effects expert for the movies. You might have seen the head he created of John Kennedy, which was used in Oliver Stone's film JFK, or the organic guns and computer pods in David Croneberg's eXistenZ and that thing in the rat-infested cellar in Graveyard Shift.

There is a touch of strange in his current exhibition. "Stretch #1," is a huge three metre tall silicone face, and for almost a decade hung in Toronto at the AGO.

Evan Penny's "Stretch #1" from 2003 is one of the "most popular works at the Art Gallery of Ontario," said Matthew Teitelbaum, the director and CEO of the gallery. Visitors love to stare at Stretch's huge stretched silicone face and peer into his big watery eyes. "When it came down (to be part of the touring show), we were constantly being asked by visitors where it was!"

In this age of Photoshop, Penny is not surprised that young art gallery goers relate to the three-dimensional distortion of a man's face in Stretch #1.

"We are saturated with images because of the media. My work displays this world in 3-D, to what is often a 2-D audience," he said. "In a 2-D world we accept distortion quickly. Not so in the 3-D world. I am interested in that juxtaposition."

He suggests that if you were to put a photograph of "Stretch #1" and some of his other works from the show, into a Photoshop program, one could restore the image back to almost picture-perfect normalcy.

And there are other works in the show, that are so lifelike, photographs of his pieces, like the bird's eye view of a standing nude male ("Aerial #2"), need no computer diddling to make them look more real than a sculpture.

What is it all about? According to the artist, that is a fair question, one that he asks himself from time-to-time. He admits there is a fair bit of voyeurism in some of his work. Maybe, as the Who once sang, it is a case of not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation, he's just talkin' 'bout his g-g-g-generation.

The Unusual Way One Man is Getting His Story Out

2012-09-20T17:37:00-04:00

Meet Yahaya Baruwa (pronounced: YaHaYa BaRuWa). He is a recent York University Graduate. On Tuesday he and I shared a microphone at CHRY-fm. It was the My Data Bag show with William Doyle Marshall. I was talking about art, films and books in a big picture fashion, Yahaya was much more practical -- very down to earth.

He was there to talk about the difficult journey he took to get his new novel Struggles of a Dreamer published. Just like the title, it was a struggle for the Nigerian Canadian to just get the book printed. When he couldn't find a traditional publisher, he decided to form a publishing company on his own and print his own book.

He told the radio listening audience that he has set a goal of getting a million people to read his book. He reckons he has sold at least 5,000 copies -- which makes it a Canadian best seller. "I am not giving up. I still believe I can do it! I can reach a million people!"

With just one book in his stable, Baruwa needs to make sales fast to pay the mounting printer's bill. He listed the book on Amazon, Indigo and the like and did manage to get it into most of Toronto's bookstores -- one shop at a time.

He has emailed the world, but, it isn't the new social media tools that is driving sales of this book -- it is the old fashioned, Encyclopaedia Britannica sales method that is moving copies. You take the book to the public and hope you get your foot out before the front door is slammed shut.

"I knock on doors and tell people to buy my book. I have a friend who helps me too, but, it is hard, slow work. We have had a few doors slammed."

How many books do you think he has sold door-to-door? The number is 3,000 and counting. At $20 a copy, he has found that the personal approach works.

"I have been working Scarborough (suburb of Toronto, Canada). I estimate that I have visited over 10,000 homes and it takes a few minutes each time to make the sale!"

"Struggles of a Dreamer, is a novel that can be enjoyed by the young and the old readers alike; most especially those in search of inspiration to pursue their personal ambitions," said Yahaya Baruwa. "You will encounter the struggles of a dreamer (Toku'te, the son of a farmer) as he faces the challenges of the limiting boundaries of his tradition. You will laugh, cry, experience romance, be frightened, held in suspense, and become inspired as you find out how Toku'te manages to remain afloat in a world that requires everyone to fit the same mold."

Visit the book's website to learn more.

Ornge You Glad Canadians Can Smell PR BS From a Mile Away?

2012-08-16T11:44:01-04:00

This blog entry is being reviewed. We're sorry for the inconvenience.

Being Ousted from the Best Seat at the Griffin Poetry Prize

2012-06-18T12:14:25-04:00

Bernard Gauthier (Bravo TV) and myself arrived early at the Griffin Poetry Prize award dinner in Toronto on June 7. The Distillery District hall doors had only been open for a few minutes. We were one of the first to be welcomed by Scott and Krystyne Griffin, the founders and funders of the Griffin Trust for Excellence in Poetry. The prize is the largest annual award for a single book of poetry in the world.

I had trouble hearing our hosts because of the Mexican mariachi band that had just begun to tune up. I am sure I would have heard all the details about the seating arrangements if I leaned a little closer in.

We entered the large exposed brick space that was once used for the fermentation of millions of gallons of liquor. The room soon began to fill with everyone I have read in the past 10 years. Michael Ondaatje, Margaret Atwood, Christopher Dwedney, Richard Gwyn. There were TV stars journalists, and former governor general Adrienne Clarkson.

More and more people poured into the space. It was an elbows-up cocktail hour. This was going to be a sold-out show. Bernard and I worried we would get separated and not be able to sit together when the dinner bell rang.

We decided to stake a claim at one of the round dining tables. I placed my car keys and glass of beer on the table. Bernard put his notes and bag on a chair beside me. We went our different ways, promising to meet up when the dinner began.

The supper announcement was made and I sat down at our table. Soon I was joined by a man I had met at a Huffington Post party a week before: the recently released Conrad Black. He had out-dressed me. He was joined by his wife Barbara Amiel, whom I used to see when I helped out at Maclean's 15 years ago. Our table started to fill up with Murray Frum and an actress whose name I was told and promptly forgot.

No one spoke to me. One couple standing nearby glared. No Bernard. I hung onto his seat as long as I could.

But soon, the iron gaze behind me made it obvious that this table was not an open seating spot. I gave up my chair (and Bernard's too) to an annoyed elderly couple who seemed to know everyone at the table.

Not a bum's rush but I blushed none the same. I grabbed Bernard's bag and made my escape. We met up at the media table. CBC, CP, filmmakers, photographer Tom Sandler: They laughed at my story and one bun got tossed my way. We had a good meal. A lot of laughs!

David Harsent's Night and Ken Babstock's Methodist Hatchet were the international and Canadian winners of the 2012 annual Griffin Poetry Prize. They each received $65,000 in prize money. As we were leaving I handed Bernard back his bag. "Mon ami," he said, "that is not my bag, where did you get it?"

It had been on the chair beside Lord Black. I was going to return it to their table, but you know, at the age 60, I try to only blush once a day. I found one of the organizers, told her what had happened, gave her the satchel and very quickly disappeared into the night.

My, Is That Group of Seven You're Wearing?

2012-06-15T07:57:08-04:00

Toronto photographer Yuri Dojc's take on Group of Seven inspired fashion

Back in the early 70s, Ryerson Polytechnical Institute was Canada's incubator for the practical arts: journalism, radio, television, layout, design, fashion, theatre and photography.

And while each discipline was taught in a different silo at the downtown Toronto campus, there was convergence at one place -- The weekly Eyeopener newspaper. I was self-proclaimed poetry editor. Christie Blatchford, Rosie DiManno, Paul Patterson, Dawna Lee Aprile and a host of others wrote amazing news-busting feature stories. It was the student paper in the country and it was the supreme social moment for the volunteer writers, designers, illustrations and photographers of Rye High.

I can't remember anything I wrote, but I do remember the photographs. They were outstanding -- cutting edge. None more so than those that came from the camera of Yuri Dojc. He was our photo editor when I was at the Eyeopener. Aside from trying to talk us all into posing in the nude, he didn't speak much English then, so, he made his camera do his talking for him. His covers were works of art, clipped out and taped to the inside of lockers that lined the halls of the Quad.

I haven't seem him in a long long time. The gallery at the end of my street that carried his art has closed. My Dojc cover clips have faded and curled but still have a treasured spot in my Ryerson trunk. He is still making great art. Yes, and some of that art involves nudes.

D'Arcy Moses sketch for Gala

I was a little surprised when I volunteered to help with the promotion of a June 16 gala for the McMichael Canadian Art Collection to find out that Yuri has supplied images for the self-billed Spiritual Home Group of Seven. Well it turns out that the Fashion as Art: Exposed! is a fundraising gala for the McMichael, and Yuri's photograph is gracing the evening's printed programme. It is a new era in Kleinburg, Ontario and Dojc photography is leading the charge.

Fashion as Art: Exposed! celebrates the fusion of art and fashion with some of Canada's leading fashion designers, artists and celebrities, including a private viewing of the cutting edge Fashionality: Dress and Identity in Contemporary Canadian Art exhibition with noted curator and fashion theorist, Julia Pine.

The event is proudly being hosted by internationally renowned fashion personality Jeanne Beker. This unique evening provides guests the perfect combination of thought-provoking art and unique Canadian fashion.

"I am thrilled to participate and support this incredible celebration of two of my greatest passions: fashion and art. Innovative fashion trends and art techniques have, and will continue to evolve over the years, however, both mediums are timeless with respect to their influence and impact reflected and presented in every culture worldwide. This unique collaboration of exceptional Canadian talent is an avant garde symbiosis that will portray fashion as art in an entirely new perspective to contemplate and enjoy," says Beker.

Fashionistas, recognized industry crème de la crème, and art lovers alike will be treated to a glamorous, red carpet evening filled with innovative design, gourmet cuisine and fabulous music. The "Group of Seven Fashion Designers" for the evening are; Joeffer Caoc, Comrags, Greta Constantine, David Dixon, Thien Le, Lucian Matis, and D'Arcy Moses.

Art will prevail through every detail of the evening, including provocative décor, cuisine by Via Allegro and entertainment from DJ Bellosound and Dr. Draw, and a live body-painting art performance by Toronto artist, JessGo.

To The Media, The Caribana Festival Is Code For "Black Crime"

2012-06-14T07:37:55-04:00

Spectators at last year's Caribbean Carnival Festival parade in Toronto

Late last week I joked with my associate Craigg Slowly that it would be only a matter of time before CFRB radio right wing on-air host Jerry Agar would link the Eaton Centre shooting with the Caribbean Carnival Toronto (the carnival formally known as Caribana).

I don't know if Agar has taken a run at us yet, but, other media outlets have indeed made the tenuous link between an inner-city gang shooting at the Eaton Centre and North America's largest Caribbean cultural event.

The Globe and Mail on Saturday ran a feature on public safety at Yonge and Dundas and somehow managed to use the Caribana name. The reporter, Kelly Grant, listed some of the murders that had occurred near the Yonge/Dundas intersection. In that list was the 2005 murder of a Brampton man in Dundas Square -- he was shot dead in front of police the day after the 2005 Caribana Parade had ended. It was referenced as occurring during Caribana.

On the same day the Toronto Sun columnist, Michele Mandel, quoted an unnamed police officer talking about an unnamed man out on bail being caught at an unnamed Caribana event with a loaded gun. The mystery criminal was, according to Mandel, convicted of the crime but gives no facts to back the quoted mystery officer. Mandel was writing about lax bail monitoring.

I privately contacted the Globe writer Grant to once again say that the 2005 shooting at Dundas Square had nothing to do with our festival (it is like the Groundhog Day movie -- this is the seventh year I have been making these calls). I won't get a retraction, but, I would like them to change the information they have in their "Caribana files" so that the Caribana Dundas Square killing moniker doesn't appear yet again. Grant told me she stands by what she wrote but will take into account the festival's concern the next time.

In an email I explained that I have been involved with the festival formally known as Caribana on and off since 1999. I deal with the media and more often than I would like, I have to deal with false statements made by the media about the festival. I have found that the word Caribana is a codeword for "black crime" when there is a story about gun crime in the GTA in the summer.

Two years ago there was a murder in Ajax at a church that was called the "pre-Caribana Murder", even though it was weeks before the festival, in another city and was at what appeared to have been a private party. Police called it pre-Caribana because many of the partygoers were Caribbean Canadian. The media picked up on that name, until we were able to get a police retraction.

"Before that," I continued in my email, "there was a teenager murdered by his 'friends' in Pickering a day after the parade. It was called the 'Caribana Murder' by Crime Stoppers, the court and the media. The young victim told his mother he was going to be attending the parade, but there was no indication he did make it there, or that the parade had any bearing on his brutal death in another city."

Before that? A murder of two Montreal men in the Four Seasons parking lot was briefly dubbed a Caribana weekend double murder.

And even before that there was the death of Dwayne Taylor who Grant mentioned in her Globe story. It was 2005. The Caribana Parade had ended the day before Dwayne Taylor, 21, of Brampton, was shot and killed at the Yonge-Dundas Square in front of police officers.

The Caribana parade had ended Saturday afternoon along Lakeshore Blvd, miles from the Sunday morning shooting at Dundas and Yonge. No one was in costume. In fact there were no indications Taylor had attended the parade, or that his killer had been involved in Caribana. Caribana's name was invoked solely because Taylor was black and because there were many Caribbean Canadians in the Square.

Any murder is tragic. All gun crimes must be punished. Falsely linking murder and gun crimes to ethnic-specific cultural events is lazy reporting and a symptom of a larger cultural problem in Toronto. Running columns that abandon fact, only help fuel intolerance in the city.

As for the Toronto Sun, I couldn't reach the columnist, so I did leave a note on their website simply saying that it is unfair to the festival to cite an unnamed police officer talking about an unnamed armed criminal busted at an unspecified "Caribana events" without any facts to back allegations that a man was caught with a gun at the festival. The year, the location of the crime, the name of the criminal and information about the court bail hearing would add credence to the story. Neither the columnist or the paper has responded.

It is important that as the PR guy for the festival, I have to honestly answer all questions about public safety. I know the festival will be asked about a fatal police shooting after our parade ended last year -- those questions must be answered. It is equally important that we always stare down wrongful reports about previous crimes mythically linked to the festival.

These Shutterbugs Have Nothing to be Camera Shy About

2012-05-08T07:37:34-04:00

If you can get a photographer to talk, oh the stories you will hear...

Over the years I have handled publicity assignments for some of Canada's best known artists, authors, and, now and then, photographers. Although one shouldn't make sweeping generalizations about the personality traits of red hot artists, when it come to photographers, the best cliché is "Mum's the Word". Authors know that the gift of the gab sells books, and for centuries, painters have been expected to attend their exhibitions. Sculptors appear larger than life -- just like their carvings.

But, photographers are different. Really different. Doesn't matter what language. Open the dictionary to the word "shy" and it will likely read: photographer.

They see the world with a box held to one eye, separating them from their subject. For Montreal's Lynne Cohen (who won the first Scotiabank Photography Award in 2011), the barrier between the public, and picture-taking is even wider. Her large format camera, complete with a light-blocking sheet that she ducks under to focus her camera, all keep her persona well hidden.

I have been assisting with this year's Scotiabank Photography Award (SPA). There are three photographers in the running: Montreal's Alain Paiement, Toronto's Arnaud Maggs, and Vancouver's Fred Herzog -- all exceptionally talented, and worthy of national treasure status. The winner is going to be announced on Wednesday.

As part of the assignment, I helped create five videos (four in English, one in French) with this year's shortlisted photographers. I also helped create a video at an SPA sponsored exhibition for last year's winner Lynne Cohen.

Normally, it would difficult to get these seasoned photographers in front someone else's camera. But, SPA is Canada's richest photography prize -- $50,000 cash, a curated art exhibition, and a publishing, and distribution deal with Steidl -- so the artists have been quite generous in supporting the publicity cycle.

They made the time to stand in front of our cameras, and talk candidly about the art that they produce. A good picture is a good picture, but when its creator describes what is actually going on in the photograph, it becomes a masterpiece. As a result, the SPA videos are about Canadian masterpieces.

Photographic artist, Arnaud Maggs lives and works in Toronto. Videographer George Socka, and myself filmed, and talked to Maggs at the Susan Hobbs gallery where his After Nadar exhibition was hanging.

Maggs was "inspired by a series of photographs of the celebrated French pantomime Pierrot, taken by the Parisian photographer Nadar in 1855." In his new show, writes Susan Hobbs, "Maggs' newest images are a restaging of these photographs using himself as the sitter."

Three things excited Maggs during our conversation. Why? He was happy with the Susan Hobbs exhibition, and thrilled with the Scotiabank Photography Award nomination. He was also looking forward to the opening of his new show at The National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa.

In April I took the train to Montreal to film Alain Paiement. I didn't have the luxury of a long stay, and I filmed Paiement for both an English, and French language YouTube video, returning to Toronto the same day.

Muse Magazine informed me that for twenty years, Alain Paiement has been a major figure in contemporary photography. His genius lies in his "spatialization" of photography, and unique construction of vision. His lens takes the ceilings off homes and businesses to giving the viewer a bird's eye view of what really goes on inside.

While we sat in his Rosemont Studio he explained that he was reclusive by nature, "I am very much an outsider, I don't know that many people. This nomination is my [coming out party]
."
Videographer Dr. Phil Nuytten of Vancouver, builds submarines, designs space age diver suits, and he owns Diver Magazine (to which I frequently contribute).

When Phil has time, he likes to talk to artists. Lucky me. He volunteered to take his cameras to the Equinox Project Space to interview Fred Herzog, the third finalist for the Scotiabank Photography Award.

Nuytten's six-minute video should have had a musical soundtrack using Paul Simon's hit, "Kodachrome." You see, the 82-year Herzog has used slide film to capture pictures of downtown Vancouver during the first 50 years of his career. His body of work is the history of the city, documented in vibrant Kodachrome colour.

As with many Canadians artists, it took took a half century for Herzog to become an overnight success. Nuytten was able to get him to talk about his new book, his work and the SPA nomination.

The final video was taken at the Design Exchange earlier this week by Socka. During the press preview of the SPA exhibition "Lynne Cohen: Nothing is Hidden" (which is part of her SPA prize), he wanted to capture Ms. Cohen's reaction to this comprehensive exhibition, and her new 172 page book. Both are a major draw at this May's CONTACT photography festival in Toronto.

Typical of a photographers' need for obscurity she revealed that for years she had naively named all of her works "untitled". She realized that that wasn't working. Especially when photographs were getting mixed up by galleries, and in reprint, so she has since given each of image a subtitle after the ubiquitous "untitled".

Just who wins the second annual Scotiabank Photography Award remains to be seen until later this week. I am guessing that typical of most photographers, these artists would rather be behind the viewfinder, or out in the field, than be at the centre of camera flashes Wednesday night.

My Brief Moment with the Grey Cup

2012-04-30T10:21:03-04:00

I helped the New Dawn Moravian Church last week with a fun event here in Toronto. The church, located in the Vaughan Rd / Oakwood neighbourhood, has a very famous person it its congregation. Shawn Gore attended Sunday School in the church when he was very young. He is now a Canadian Football League star with the Vancouver Lions, and although he is out of province much of the year, he still consider the New Dawn home.

He brought the Grey Cup to the church last Tuesday to show the young kids in the neighbourhood. CP-24 decided to go live from the Grey Cup party being held in the church basement. Shawn invited the kids to look at the cup but asked them not to touch it. When the CP24 cameraman asked me to move the cup a bit (because all the silver was reflecting the camera spot light), the kids gasped that I would disobey their hero Shawn).

One youngster tried to tackle me. I sidestepped him. Another tried to clothesline me (I ducked). A third tried a hip block -- too slow.

Anyway, the TV crew got their shots. The interviews were great and the kids enjoyed themselves.
When it was all over a man in the auidence praised me for my moves avoiding the tackles. Gave me a contract to join the Argos! After I signed he asked my age.

"Just turned 60."

He looked at me in disgust and ripped up the contract and stomped out of the church.
Too bad. I had held the Big Trophy while under contract. That is the closest the Argos are going to get to the Grey Cup as long as Gore continues to play for the Lions.

Don't Trust Me With Your LinkedIn Info

2012-04-03T17:22:17-04:00

For the second time in a month, an investigative criminal reporter has called me looking for info on people that I am linked into through the popular business social network LinkedIn.

The last time it was concerning a case of medical fraud, and one of my LinkedIn contacts was related to a doctor arrested in the U.S.

The Star was trying to reach Toronto relatives for comment. My LinkedIn contact, a member of the media himself, was related directly to this doctor.

At the beginning of the month the Globe and Mail was asking for LinkedIn information that would help the paper contact a woman about to be charged over an insider trading issue (gold stocks).
Their calls kicked off an internal ethical debate. You see, I am a trained journalist, I live to write about diving, the ocean and anything we swim in. But, freelance writing being one of the lowest paying jobs on the planet, requires non-writing support to keep the car payments on sched. So, I am also a very active publicist with contacts in many different communities around the world. I work in the arts, in the Caribbean community, in our country's publishing industry and even the world of the wrongly convicted.

One side of me wants to help out any reporter looking for assistance in any legal way possible. The other side of me is wondering if my LinkedIn connection information is subject to privacy concerns, and I should not willingly give out numbers, email addresses and job information.

Background: I was quick to jump on the LinkedIn bandwagon. In the early days almost everyone I approached to link agreed to sign up with me. As a result I have two accounts, one with over 1,500 connections, the other with 600 or so. According to LinkedIn I have over nine million colleagues in terms of first, second and third level signees.

It works both ways. Lately I have been getting Linkedin requests from real estate agents from Atlanta, investment accountants from New York and even IR experts working in Nigeria. I weed out the insurance agents, sex trade workers, and tax specialists, but, link with almost everyone else.

So, in reality, the vast majority of people on my two networks are unknown to me. Do I owe these vast group of strangers some sort of privacy protection? People who become my contacts decide themselves as to what information they are going to give me, so, should I consider their data as being public information?

Giving private information to a publicist is not like talking to a reporter off the record. As a journalist your secret is safe with me. As a publicist? You must be kidding. It would be hard to convince the police or the courts that a public relations person could "protect his sources."

In reality a publicist will sing loud, long and probably pay for the drinks (receipt please). The world used to say the three best ways to get information out -- telephone, telegraph and tell a publicist.

Question: So what did I do? In the first case, I was actually once removed from the person being investigated for exchange irregularities. I had no idea who she was. I was LinkedIn to this woman through a connection with the Wine Ladies radio show. Believe we were all involved in a community fundraiser. I told the Globe the connection and left it at that.

In the case of the doctor arrested in the U.S., I did phone my LinkedIn in contact ( I have him in my own database ) and asked if it was alright to provide the Star with his number. He said yes. I did. They talked. Then the Star called again wanting contact information on other family members.

Given the size and scope of my database, what will I do the next time I get a media call? Don't know. Depends on how moral I am feeling at the time.

I have an eclectic life. I used to believe in that philosophy that says you are the sum of the five people you most hang out with. Nowadays does that apply to LinkedIn friends as well? If so, maybe I should purge? Or more importantly, should you the reader review your online data and flush me out of your maililng list? ( I wouldn't blame you).