Back in the day, when it seemed like Nickelback was playing at the Charlottetown waterfront every second weekend, I developed the reputation of being something of a curmudgeon. Truth be told my protests were always rooted in a feeling that public land should remain public, not given over to concert prompters, but the subtlety was often lost on the readership.

As such, I celebrate the sweet sounds coming out of the third floor apartment next door unreservedly: if I can’t revel in the vigorous music-making of the young, what’s the point of being alive?

The Louisiana Channel—from the Danish art gallery, not the U.S. state—is a deep well of interesting video.

The cinder block herb garden in our back yard is again filled with herbs.

Two months ago I proposed that the City of Charlottetown take steps to make the downtown, south of Grafton Street, an “active transportation first” zone:

As spring arrives and we all spend more time outside, those of us who live in downtown Charlottetown are awakening to a very changed urban landscape, where there are more pedestrians, wheelchairs and bicycles than there are vehicles.

We’re discovering that, suddenly, we have the wrong kind of streetscape for the times: vast swathes of pavement devoted to the absent automobiles, while we all crowd together on the sidewalks and sides of the streets.

I wasn’t proposing that streets be closed, that cars be banned, simply a lowering of the speed limit, and a change in emphasis so that cars would become second-class citizens to those walking, wheeling and cycling.

While my downtown city councillor was enthusiastic about the idea, no political will emerged to support it, and, instead, the city decided to make parking downtown free, which is the opposite of supporting active transportation, for it will serve only to encourage more vehicles in the city’s core:

The city’s finance committee decided that parking would be free in June following discussions with stakeholders such as Downtown Charlottetown Inc., the Greater Charlottetown Area Chamber of Commerce and Discover Charlottetown, as well as with the Charlottetown Area Development Corporation, which manages the parkades.

“It’s all part of our assistance to help the downtown get back on its feet,’’ the mayor said.

Careful readers will note that the city consulted not with anyone who actually lives downtown, and might benefit from a furtherance of the more citizen-friendly low-traffic situation we’ve seen during the pandemic; instead the consultations were held only with business owners, not known, as a group, for their embrace of anything but having customers being able to park directly at their door (despite the benefits to business, well-demonstrated in other cities, of encouraging more wheelchair, pedestrian and cycle traffic in downtown cores).

City Council has, alas, failed in doing anything but trying to hurry along the return to some simulacrum of the way things used to be, rather than supporting citizens, most of whom are not downtown business owners, in attaining a more convivial and safe place to live.

In the shadow of yesterday’s daredevil printing workshop, I was ready to see where I could go with printing in the round.

One of the key things I learned yesterday was that 18 point type will fit between the two plexiglass circles in the Big Dog Daredevil set; I only have one font of 18 point type, a Gill Sans I purchased, newly-cast, from M&H Type 10 years ago, so that’s what I used. 

If there was one message to take away from the workshop–and, indeed, if there’s one bedrock rule for setting type at all–it’s “always be working toward the rectangle.” So the process of setting type in the round involved sqootching the Gill Sans between the plexiglass circles and then using the daredevil furniture to lock it into place. Putting a quoin in the middle might not adhere strictly to the daredevil religion, but it worked, generating enough outward-facing pressure to keep things locked in place.

Rather than setting out to make 100 of something, as is my habit, I decided to use the opportunity to play, printing on various papers and objects, and experimenting with rotating and overlaying to see what I could discover:

This is my favourite, printed on paper handmade from the cards and letters we received after Catherine died:

This was my first experiment, and I like it too; it’s printed on cardstock that I found buried in Catherine’s studio cupboards:

And finally a try with printing on a chipboard rectangle:

This was more improvisational printing than I’m used to, veering just slightly away from trade into art; I enjoyed it.

More daredevilry to come.

One year ago today, we gathered a ragtag bunch of friends in St. Paul’s Parish Hall for Crafting {:} a Life. These are those people.

Kirsten Dirksen on a three story shipping container house in Toronto.

The house was built on top of Harlem Restaurant, which closed last November:

On November 9th, 2019, Harlem Underground turns 10 years old. To celebrate this auspicious occasion, we have decided to close the restaurant.

“Over the last decade Harlem Underground has been an epicentre of black food and culture within the downtown core. The decision to close comes not from the restaurant itself, as I continue to be supported by the community at large, but from a personal need to see other creative endeavours grow.” —Carl Cassell

The conventional playbook is that, if you’ve got a good thing going, you should keep going, forever. It’s refreshing to see examples of the opposite.

One of the fringe benefits of the pandemic has been that the School of Visual Concepts in Seattle has launched an ambitious program of remote workshops over Zoom. Which is how I came to be learning about daredevil printing this afternoon from 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. from the talented daredevil Jessica Spring, at Springtide Press in Tacoma.

This was only the second letterpress course I’ve taken since I started printing: the first one, in 2010 at The Arm in Brooklyn, set me on my way. Since that point there’s been a lot of figuring things out by myself, and making up names for things, and generally just futzing around. So, in addition to the value of learning how to print with my newly-acquired set of daredevil furniture, the great joy of the session today was simply being able to watch another printer–a much, much more experienced and talented printer–go about the trade.

Stay tuned for much round printing to follow.

Imani Perry, writing in The Paris Review:

I’m growing microgreens. Every couple of weeks they are sufficiently lush to be snipped and eaten. They sit on my nightstand, and there’s just enough light, coming from an adjacent window, to feed them. Outside that window, I can see a tree that is older than anyone I know. I photograph it frequently, watching it change with the seasons.

(via my mother).