Archive for Alexander Herman

How did Pratt go from engineering student to respected, professional artist?

Christopher Pratt is arguably one of Canada’s greatest living painters. His distant, clinical landscapes are at the same time modern and wholly timeless. I’m certainly no art critic, but when I saw a retrospective show at Quebec City’s Musée national des beaux-arts, I was awestruck. Here was a real artist. Someone who belongs very much to a place (Newfoundland), but speaks, through sparse rural depictions, to a certain universality. That doesn’t do him justice though. You have to see his work (and I mean wall upon wall of it) to really understand its force.

But how did someone like that get a start in life? How did he go from being a pre-engineering student to a respected, professional artist?

The answer is simple. He saw that a life in art was entirely possible in his own environment. And this wasn’t easy. He grew up in a place where there were, as he says, no art galleries, no professional artists and no understanding that one could even make a living through painting of all things.

But Pratt persevered. He did a year of engineering, then switched to pre-med, then finally settled on an Arts undergrad… until he dropped out a year and a half later. In fact, his educational record does not show any sign of the committed professionalism he’d later develop as an artist.

One thing that kept him going were his artistic inspirations. Alex Colville, for example, the well-known artist, taught him briefly at Mount Allison in New Brunswick. And the image of Colville – his paintings showing the world over – who could “live in a little house, have a family with three or four kids and walk to church every Sunday” was indelible. It showed Pratt that it was possible to become a serious artist while staying close to one’s roots. You didn’t have to be brash, or urban, or complicated.

It was possible to make a career quietly, keeping to oneself and working on one’s art.

A (more than slightly tangential) continuation from yesterday’s post:  Has it been eight years already? It feels like just yesterday when I was bemoaning the new, anti-intellectual president elect from Texas. Time flies, it seems, when you have a focus for your hatred. But now that Bush, by the time of this printing, will already be [...]

A (more than slightly tangential) continuation from yesterday’s post: 

Has it been eight years already? It feels like just yesterday when I was bemoaning the new, anti-intellectual president elect from Texas. Time flies, it seems, when you have a focus for your hatred. But now that Bush, by the time of this printing, will already be gone, to make way for the commencement of a new era, I’ll kind of miss him. He had that rare ability to unite people – even though he was uniting those who opposed him. Yet, if not for him, I would never have marched alongside wild radicals with whom I otherwise have little in common. At the great world-wide protest against the Invasion of Iraq in 2003, I met vegan farmers, girls with rainbow-coloured hair who wore ponchos and moccasins, and extremist Maoists, who called themselves “Spartacists” and advocated a simple, proletarian life for all. Had it not been for the foreign policy of Mr. Bush, I would never have come across these colourful – and eccentric – people. The assumed evil of the Bush Doctrine also gave me hope in the somewhat moribund system of the United Nations. For those of us opposing the Iraq War, the UN was given a hallowed, almost infallible, position – notwithstanding the fact that, through the Oil For Food Program, it had been partly complicit in helping certain states gain great financial benefit from the status quo of Saddam Hussein’s regime. I also found heroic the anti-American actions of countries (France, Russia, Turkey) who otherwise have far from admirable foreign policies. And, finally, I found a certain poignancy in the somewhat maudlin and misleading filmmaking of Michael Moore. For these reasons, I must thank George Bush. It is also necessary to correct certain misconceptions – or, shall we say, misunderestimations. The predominant one is that he was not intelligent. Most of us assumed this, not necessarily from his policies, but rather from his infamous linguistic missteps during speeches. In fact, these laughable proclamations became the primary evidence for disagreeing with his political decisions. We asked: “How can someone who sounds so dumb ever develop smart initiatives?” Yesterday, I referenced the recent BBC compilation of a list of well-known Bushisms. Reading it over, I couldn’t help but feel a certain admiration for the frankness and creativity of his language. After eight years of listening to this man, I’ve developed an ear for his cadence, as well as his somewhat Byzantine message. Here are some of the most beloved utterances of the now-former President, along with some of my own explanations as to their possible meaning: “Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?” (January, 2000)If we consider “our children” not as the plural of “our child,” but rather as a category unto itself, the noun then becomes singular. In the same way, one could say: “We are asking the right questions in the following domains: war, the environment, our children, social security, etc.” “I understand small business growth. I was one.” (February, 2000)In the business community, many owners often associate themselves as symbiotically connected to the business which they founded. “It’s clearly a budget. It’s got a lot of numbers in it.” (May, 2000)This, I presume, is a joke. Just think, if Obama had said a similar thing (albeit not in these trying economic times) with a characteristically straight-faced delivery, the media would have been rolling in the press room aisles. “I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully.” (September, 2000)A good thing to say in any fishing community. Just think of Harper in the Maritimes. It’s sort of like him saying, “The executive must contemplate the best method to balance the interests of the local fishermen, including the possible need to diversify the economy of the region, as well as supporting a generalized moratorium on cod fishing, since, we must think of generations to come and their likely reliance on the same supply.” “They misunderestimated me.” (November, 2000)He gets a lot of flack for this one. But it’s quite an ingenious neologism: had he simply said “They underestimated me,” the term would be vague and rather clichéd. But by “misunderestimated,” we can understand that his detractors did not merely think little of him, but what little they thought was done for the wrong reasons. Ie. Over eight years, we have not only underestimated Bush, but also misplaced that underestimation by thinking him a simpleton when, in fact, he was – in his own way – a genius. “I think war is a dangerous place.” (May, 2003)Like a great poet, the President combines the tough reality of war with a geographical location (“place”). Is it not true that war must necessarily take place in a place? Lesser minds would overlook this connection. “The ambassador and the general were briefing me on the – the vast majority of Iraqis want to live in a peaceful, free world. And we will find these people and we will bring them to justice.” (October, 2003)This is a simple example of a quote taken out of context. We have a number of characters involved (ambassador, general, the majority of Iraqis and the terrorists). This likely came at the end of a long passage focusing on the terrorists. Thus, even though he has mentioned the majority of Iraqis in the previous sentence, any listener would know that “these people” refers to those mentioned in the central thrust of the speech, the terrorists. “I’m the decider, and I decide what is best.” (April, 2006)A perfect, pithy description of executive power. “You know, one of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror.” (September, 2006)True. I hope this gloss has helped enrich our appreciation of the man who led the world’s most powerful country over the last eight years. Perhaps, for his expansion of English vocabulary and syntax, we owe him our grudging respect. 

Unfortunately, this may pale in comparison to his less-forgivable errors: the cynicism with which he reneged on Kyoto, the stupidity with which, based on dubious intelligence reports, he invaded Iraq, and, worst of all, the way he interpreted a miniscule electoral victory to allow the full-throttle imposition of neo-conservative policies and cabinet personalities. However, it must be added, had the eight years under Bush not been so desperate, Barack Obama may never have galvanized the support necessary to propel him into the Oval Office.

(These thoughts are all my own – well, at least those I don’t share with the the outgoing US President – and certainly don’t necessarily reflect those of my co-authors, Paul Matthews and Andrew Feindel.)

It isn’t just the twenty-somethings who are asking questions

Ever since we’ve started blogging about our book, Kickstart: How Successful Canadians Got Started, we’ve been getting a lot of unexpected responses from those younger than us, trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives. When we first started interviewing well-known Canadians for the book (when it was still just a “project”), the aim was to pass everything we learned on to others of our generation, those members that Time Magazine had labelled “The Twixters.” A great number of our friends had just graduated from university and weren’t quite sure what road to take, what jobs to pursue, what to do next. We thought learning about successful people in arts, business, politics, etc. could help all of us get a clearer picture about the many opportunities out there.

But, with time, we realized something. Clearly, young people wanted to know about careers in their particular fields (like the story of cardiovascular surgeon Dr. Tirone David) or about those who did things a little differently (think of House creator David Shore). But it wasn’t just the twenty-somethings who were asking questions. Those in a younger generation, those still in high school, wanted to know more.

Maybe it’s obvious. It seems that students at an even younger age are concerned about what their future holds in store. Especially now, when there are so many opportunities (notwithstanding the current economic turmoil). What’s the best way to become a doctor? A lawyer? A writer? An activist? These are questions that all high school students should at least be considering. And, often, they can have an impact on where (or even if) one chooses to go to college or university.

Our goal with Kickstart is for teenagers to take note: of the possibilities out there, of the routes to take and of the great lessons learned from those Canadians who have been there before us.

You can learn a lot by not asking about the scandals

When we interviewed Brian Mulroney for Kickstart: How Successful Canadians Got Started, it was back in the winter of 2006, well before anyone knew much about Karlheinz & co. It was probably better that way. It seems like when a scandal hits, that’s all anyone wants to talk about, journalists especially. Instead, our discussion with Mulroney was relaxed and amicable, allowing us to focus on our real purpose, finding out what he did in his twenties.

The interesting thing about Mulroney — we could almost call it inspirational — is that, he was, in the words of Peter C. Newman, Canada’s first working class Prime Minister. He grew up in the small, remote town of Baie-Comeau on Quebec’s north shore (hit Quebec City and keep going ’til dawn), where he spoke English and French with equal frequency. His father was an electrician who gave the young Brian at least one piece of propitious advice: “The only way out of a mill town is through a university door.” The man had also worked on the electrical rigging of the Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City, a fact that Mulroney often mentioned (boasted?) when welcoming foreign leaders into its wood-pannelled grandeur.

We learned many other interesting anecdotes about the man, most of which ended up in the book. The most revealing thing about writing a book about well-known people in their twenties is that that period in people’s lives is usually relatively uncontroversial. When he meets with reporters, Mulroney is likely asked the same question 99 per cent of the time. Did he accept payments when holding office, etc.? But people can really open up when you ask about a more simple, hopeful time in their lives. And a lot can be learned from it too.

Why Godfrey built a career before becoming a politician

Though he won’t be participating in the upcoming federal election, a word or two needs to be said about John Godfrey. The outgoing MP for Don Valley West in Toronto, Godfrey will be ceding his position as Liberal shoe-in to Rob Oliphant in this multi-ethnic and multi-income-bracket riding, bridging the great urban/suburban divide.

We interviewed Godfrey two years ago for our book and the then-minister of state for infrastructure and communities gave us two and a half hours of his time at the Marriott cafe on Bay Street. Here’s a little of his story: Godfrey came from a well-to-do family from Toronto’s leafy Rosedale neighbourhood. Growing up after the Second World War, he watched his house become a meeting point for European immigrants fleeing that war-ravaged and partly-totalitarian continent. His parents found these newcomers enticing – and so did the young Godfrey. (I should note here, to throw all objective integrity out the window, that my own grandparents, coming over from Switzerland in 1945 were among this lot taken in by the Godfreys… but that’s another story entirely.)

Godfrey maintained an interest in politics throughout his academic career. He talks about one moment when the entire political structure shifted: the day John F. Kennedy was killed in 1963. From that point on, younger people turned from participants to activists, and the culture went from one of hope & progress to one of tension & disparity. Godfrey tried to incorporate many of the elements of this change – eventually bringing it to political life when first elected for Jean Chrétien’s Liberals in 1993 – but he always tried to build another career for himself before diving headfirst into that “game.” This is something for young people, perhaps inspired by such current lightning-rods as Barack Obama or Stephen Harper (ha!), to take note of. A life in the world of politics is a difficult one. You can either try to work your way up the ranks, as a staffer or an election foot soldier (going door-to-door, putting up posters on quiet street corners at 2:30 in the morning, etc.), from an early age or you can, like Godfrey, establish yourself in another career – the man was President of King’s College in Halifax and editor of the Financial Post (now reborn as the National Post) – before giving politics a try.

Well, another Canadian federal election is underway… We thought we’d offer a small contribution to the debate by adding a more “human” element. Although it can be said that, unlike with our American friends, politics up here mostly ignores the characters involved in favour of more policy-centred coverage. If we have foresaken the cult of [...]

Well, another Canadian federal election is underway…

We thought we’d offer a small contribution to the debate by adding a more “human” element. Although it can be said that, unlike with our American friends, politics up here mostly ignores the characters involved in favour of more policy-centred coverage. If we have foresaken the cult of ego, the unfortunate result is that we inspire rather, well, uninspiring individuals to the helm of major national parties.

Since some of the contributors to our book, Kickstart: How Successful Canadians Got Started, are very much involved in the election, set to occur on October 14, we thought we’d highlight a few aspects of their early stories.

Here’s what Ujjal Dosanjh, the Liberal Member of Parliament who is defending his seat in Vancouver South, told us about his first experience running for office in 1979:

“It was a difficult campaign. It may seem normal now to have people from different backgrounds in politics, but in that time there weren’t very many. So when I ran, sometimes I’d go to the doorstep, knock on the door and somebody would open it. Before I even said something, the door would shut on me. That was pretty disheartening. But I persevered… and lost.”

That experience was with the provincial NDP in British Columbia. After eventually leading that party (and the province), he opted for the Liberals when he decided to run federally.

For more about Ujjal’s story, click here.

Over the summer, I was able to spend some time with three great books: On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan, Shalimar the Clown by Salman Rushdie and, most recently, Herzog by Saul Bellow. All three, coming highly recommended by friends whose judgment have my utmost respect, shone for me. And this is not to say [...]

Over the summer, I was able to spend some time with three great books: On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan, Shalimar the Clown by Salman Rushdie and, most recently, Herzog by Saul Bellow. All three, coming highly recommended by friends whose judgment have my utmost respect, shone for me. And this is not to say that I’ve actually finished all (or any) of them. Anyone familiar with my restless reading habits knows that only rarely do I ever finish a book – and never in a timely fashion.

It’s mostly due to my short attention span and as-yet-undiagnosed ADD, but a small part has something to do with an obsession with style. Not simply the style of writing — whether it be ornate prose or Hemingwayesque simplicity — but the style with which a story is told. My favourite sentences contain entire worlds within each clause and sub-clause. Ones that can make you stop, reflect, and reread them several times before moving on (Rushdie and Vlad Nabokov are, in my mind, the most successful at containing such multitudes). Clearly, this doesn’t help my reading process.

I was often embarrassed by this inability to keep up with the assigned pages in high school English classes. Had I read all of MacBeth’s Act V last night? How about the first hundred pages of A Separate Peace over the weekend? Not a chance. Though, as someone who loved the class, I could never admit it. I would lie when called on and then, egged on by my embarrassment, make up some cliche answer about character development or white/black imagery or foreshadowing.

Now, as I page through the beginning of Herzog, or any good book for that matter, I am wishing I’d never had to invent such pretense. Our schools must teach us to grasp the immeasurable joys that arise from great literature, not to give stock answers to stock questions.

Perhaps it’s because most courses present the same staid approaches to the same staid texts. I’m not saying Shakespeare isn’t great: I just feel we’ve taught him to death and the sight of his slow execution is a mindnumbingly dreadful experience. Elizabethan language is hard enough to grasp. What’s truly exciting about MacBeth or Hamlet or King Lear are the stories, the wild, unnatural, off-the-wall stories. This is what needs to be appreciated in these works: the playfulness, the excitement and the irreverence. It exists in all literature, in all books.

Maybe a new approach to reading needs to be introduced early. So that kids can appreciate things the way I rarely could. Make them enjoy the experience of reading, not feel they have to prepare a useless paper on the use of food metaphors in Shakespeare or the supurfluous man theory in Turgenev.

Let them discover the stories — shall we? — while we rediscover our own.

We’ve always tried to make Kickstart’s underlying philosophy one of helping others. The book tries to use the words of successful Canadians in order to point the way for those young adults whose real lives are just beginning. We include ourselves, for obvious reasons, in this latter category. We’ve learned an awful lot from those [...]

We’ve always tried to make Kickstart’s underlying philosophy one of helping others. The book tries to use the words of successful Canadians in order to point the way for those young adults whose real lives are just beginning. We include ourselves, for obvious reasons, in this latter category. We’ve learned an awful lot from those who were generous enough to donate their time. Whether it’s about being a ballerina, an entrepreneur or a librarian, we feel that others can learn a lot too.

But maybe there’s something for which we can actually help…

Publishing. This has been a question many young people have on their minds these days – especially those looking to try their hand at writing. Do we have any advice? Well, perhaps. We’re just starting out on this adventure known as publishing a book: hell, we haven’t even had our launch yet. But, with the help of our great publisher Dundurn, we’ve learned a thing or two about getting our book into stores.

First of all, money talks. Every time you see a cookbook at the front of a bookstore, or wonder why your favourite novel has its own little shelf under the Fiction category, there’s a reason. At the large retail chains this usually has to do with how much push a book is getting from its publisher. It’s not the staff being creative with a store’s presentation (which is what we’d always thought). Every placement is the result of a specific agreement, usually made at the top of the chain of command.

We’ve already tried to seek out our book in the great Indigos of Toronto. One particular store was hording it in the backroom, which is understandable: it usually takes a few weeks for a bookstore to process a delivery of books from a distributor. We had to push for them to agree to bring the book to the shelves a little early. Thank you, Indigo.

In fact, in this country, a lot relies on that particular chain. Say what you will about the disappearance of small mom and pop operations, if you get your book into Indigo/Chapters, you’re set. Especially if Heather Reisman likes your style. The jury is currently out on what she thinks of ours… but we know that Ms. Reisman is on the same page as us: she believes in respectful entrepreneurship (see her fantastic Entrepreneur Series with Peter Munk and Jim Pattison, two of our own favourite interviewees), as do we; and she supports great Canadian writing (especially prominent in her Heather’s Picks section). We’re not sure if we fit into this last category, but we’re big fans of those who do. We hope that a relationship with Indigo/Chapters develops. Because, for first time authors, so much relies upon it.

Tomorrow, we’re faced with the daunting task of speaking to a roomfull of youngsters who are, in all likelihood, far more successful than we are, let alone than we were at their age. The Top Twenty Under Twenty, with a somewhat self-explanatory name, consists of teenagers (and possibly some pre-teens) from around the country who have [...]

Tomorrow, we’re faced with the daunting task of speaking to a roomfull of youngsters who are, in all likelihood, far more successful than we are, let alone than we were at their age. The Top Twenty Under Twenty, with a somewhat self-explanatory name, consists of teenagers (and possibly some pre-teens) from around the country who have excelled in one form or another. Some are entrepreneurs who have started and managed several businesses; some run non-profit organizations; others are exceptional performers or athletes. They were chosen by the organization Youth in Motion and the Courage to Soar conference, where we will be speaking on its final day, is taking place at Wilfred Laurier University in Waterloo, Ontario.

The task brings to mind a few of the Kickstart contributors. While most of the features in the book only blossomed (in a career-sense) during or after their twenties, there were a select few who, like the Top Twenty Under Twenty gang, became extremely committed to their dreams early on. This applies to the athletes, like Olympic gold medal wrestler Daniel Igali, or CFL star Normie Kwong. To become a great athlete, one needs to begin early. Training becomes as important as schoolwork and all other activities expected of teens.

But a few of those in the arts also started to pursue their livelihoods at a young age. I’m thinking of Karen Kain, the world famous ballerina, who graduated from the National Ballet School and dove right into professional dance at the tender age of eighteen. She became a celebrity, danced with Nureyev and toured the globe while in her early twenties. Listening to her speak, we felt a considerable distance from our own experience of dead-end jobs, frustrated ambition and generally restless behaviour.

But with Kain, we learned, the stakes were so high, that when she was twenty-eight, she encountered some serious problems, both professionally and emotionally, that forced her to retire (temporarily) from the world of ballet. I guess it’s true: no one gets a smooth ride.

How to approach life after school

Well, here we are. It’s been a while — our journey, that is. We began work on the Kickstart project way back in the frigid winter of ’05. Gas was cheap, the Red Sox had recently won the World Series and the three of us were trying to figure out what the hell we wanted to do with our lives. You see, we had recently finished university and were struck by the confusing landscape of post-graduation life. We no longer had the structure of school to keep us in line. Life was beginning, for real this time.

Over the next three years, we set out to interview some of the best known people throughout this vast country of ours, asking them what they had done when they were in our shoes. How did they get started? What obstacles did they have to overcome? Who might have inspired them?

The product of those three years, Kickstart: How Successful Canadians Got Started, was published this spring by the Dundurn Group. Then Tony Keller from Maclean’s approached us and asked if we would like to contribute a blog, dealing with various and sundry things, including what on earth young people do when they’re starting out in the workforce.

Thanks, Tony. We hope we don’t disappoint.

Alexander Herman is co-author of Kickstart: “How Successful Canadians Got Started,” a book based on interviews with over fifty well-known people from across the country. He has studied at Trinity College Dublin and is currently studying law at McGill University. He has also written a work of fiction called “The Toronto Trinity.”