You know what I love? I love “yes”. I love “yes” so much, and so hard, and  also its more boisterous adjutants “hell yes” and “fuck yes”.

Butcher’s charts take it all apart.

Sewing patterns put it all together.

The sundering and the reconciling … they interest me, both. I maybe love taxidermy because it requires both; I should maybe love the jigsaw puzzle more than I do, for the same reason.

Often I think of the poetry of objects
about the way a seam is resolved
or the way a spine grows
about the things we make with our bodies
and the bones from out of our bodies

Sometimes I feel like Reepicheep finally arrived at the edge of the world and sometimes I feel like I’m standing way up high on a tall place where I have to make a choice about whether I’ll step off and float away, or not.

“Mother” … now there’s a big topic for you. I’ve been thinking about this post and trying to fashion this post and I’ve been uncharacteristically lacking synaptic activity or volubility. Sometimes when this happens, I hurl myself off the precipice into the unknown of the internet and find words by finding pictures. But the problem with the pictures you find when you Google “mother” or “mom” or variations on that theme, is how reductive they are: it’s nearly all glowing pregnant ladies or beaming ladies cradling babies or high-heel-and-pearl-clad June Cleavers doing housewifely things, and there is so much more to motherhood than changing diapers and running the vac.

The world spins on its axis, on and on and on, no matter who comes here or leaves here, no matter how happy or sad you are, no matter, no matter.

How to catch an octopus
by Patrick Widdess

It is such a miracle, this ridiculous Internet thing. Just a few days ago, I was sitting bundled in sweaters in an old farmhouse in Quebec, looking out the kitchen window at the blazing colours of autumn while simultaneously peeking into the studio of artist Ghadah Alkandari; the thing about Ghadah’s studio is that it’s located in Kuwait, half a world away from me. But with a click of the Send button on her Mac, she was able to show me a little piece of her reality and that is an eventuality I like very much. And oh my, how I like publishing these images so that you too can step into Ghadah’s world for a moment or two.

Okay, this is just the loveliest thing, this project by Nathalia Ponomareva. I wish we lived in a world where all the daily objects of life could be similarly delightful.

It’s not terribly often I say this but

Here is an immensely moving thing: The Waste Not installation by Song Dong, currently showing at The Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

Not so much of a weekend blogger, me, but sometimes an unruly dame’s gotta do what an unruly dame’s gotta do.

Here is maybe the greatest Canadian song ever. And if you disagree, I’d love to hear your nominations for that position! (Click the green post title to make the jump.)

A lot of [my] paintings aren’t of Canadian subjects, but somehow they always end up looking Canadian — it’s strange. I’m aware that I can’t get away from Canada, because my formative years were spent there.
          — Peter Doig

The backbone of the backbone.