{rosie and the ccc}

if you go down to hamilton street, and stop just before the shoe store, you'll see a wee door in the wall. you should go in, even though it looks like you shouldn't, and you'll find a staircase and nothing more. at the top of the staircase, you'll pause and wonder if you should be here at all. the building is seemingly abandoned and mostly quiet except for a few footsteps and whispers coming from above and to your left. they're so muffled and ghostly that you'll wonder if you're making them up in your head, and you'll think even more about turning around again, but then you'll keep going because there are more stairs to climb, and you feel that you really should, at least, try them out.

these stairs will take you to the top, which is true of almost all stairs. the top will also seem deserted, but you'll just have to poke around the rooms a bit; there's probably someone there {there usually is}. this place is called the creative city centre, and it's become one of my favourite places in the city--it hosts poetry slams and live music and songwriter's workshops and art nights and comedy and everything else good and artsy and fun.

recently, a young local artist named rosie armistead hung a 40-foot canvas all along one wall and worked on it for a month, painting and stamping and doodling and drawing. the public could come and watch her work on it on monday afternoons, and she chatted while she worked and we could ask questions or just creepily gawk from a corner and then leave without saying a word. at the end of the month, she chopped the thing up and you could buy any part{s} of it that you wanted, one dollar per square inch. the thing that i loved about this was one part the strange little audience that gathered to comment and spectate and stare, one part the ccc, a venue that provides this kind of platform for those willing to put themselves out there, and five parts rosie armistead, with her crazy clothes and confidence in herself and in her work that gave her the boldness to put it out there in such a big way. it was kind of a funny little lesson for me in just doing what you gotta do, even if you think everyone might not like it, or even if you think no one might like it. because in the end, if absolutely nothing else, you get an experience, right? and that experience could be like a little spring board that you can jump off to get to the next experience. and i think that's cool--almost like flying. i guess the moral of the story is sort of the whole staircase thing, how you should explore creepy places {but always take a strong friend with you}, and sort of just how sweet the ccc is, but it's mostly about how if you find a thing that could potentially be an experience, you know, "jump".