At home with Nadia Myre

Scar Project

To visit Nadia Myre's studio, my friend Dana and I took a tiny ferry from Hudson, Quebec, across the Ottawa River to Oka.

The studio is in a converted fire station in the small town of Saint-Andre D'Argenteuil, about 20 minutes or so from Oka and the nearby Mohawk community, Kanesatake . She lives upstairs.



Indian Act


It's Nadia's first year in the lower Laurentian Art Festival, Routes des Arts.

She's a soft spoken woman who identifies as Algonquin, though she's spent most of her time in Montreal and other cities, and therefor separated from the reservation community. "I don't know much about what it means to be Indian," she says, smiling. "Though maybe I know an awful lot about what it is to be Indian."




Dana and I were invited to sew our own scars. So we did.

Nadia Myre Home

The power of Echinacea

La Petite Patrie

Maka, her mom, her house.

Mile End

(514) has to share

Traditionally a land line city, Montreal has been experiencing a hike in cell phone users (finally) in the past few years. Bell Canada has had to issue a new area code to accommodate them.

hence, 438 is the new 514

The Montreal Gazette reports

Plateau

Montreal Bikes

When i went to Concordia in the early 2000's, de Maisonneuve Boulevard was a hectic city one-way where you could get doored as easily as cut off, sideswiped, or fumigated by exhaust. Since late summer 2007 however, the newest bad-ass super highway is that of the bicycle.

The Mirror reports: cycling haven

NPR with Allende
Isabel Allende on her new book, "The Sum of Our Days," and on her family, friends and writing.

Rebbeca moves to town

Moving, when you actually have assets, is apparently a big business. The moving guy--I think his name was Sam--said his truck got six miles to the gallon. "When i fill up," he said, "it's a thousand bucks."
Rebecca, most recently from Atlanta, was upstairs checking off her boxes on an official looking sheet. The furniture was shrink wrapped, but Rebecca's couch was missing a leg.
"It's the south," Sam said. "The foot probably broke off on the way to the warehouse. They don't care. It's a different game down there."
"Hey," he also said hopefully. "Where we going to dinner after this? DiMillo's?"

Crescent Beach, eaten by fog. July 6th.

Fanny Pack

Much before the fireworks

Nan on her deck

At Fiona's new house

Conway Lake

My dad is the president of the Upper Saco Valley land trust. It was a blustery day, and we took the canoe out to an island that the trust is considering adopting. "There's a rope swing out there," my dad said, paddling. "That could mean a lawsuit. We'll have to take it down or post No Trespassing Signs. But then we risk getting the neighbors upset." He sighed. "I just don't know."

Kristina at home, 61 Brackett Street