I haven’t been in years, but with a renewed focus on contemporary art from the Prairies, it’s exciting to know the independent gallery is going strong, and the new name gives both it and the City of Regina some better recognition. I don’t think they’re going by the name “AGR” in their branding, but I’m going to call it that – the riff on the AGO wouldn’t be inappropriately aspirational, especially since Regina’s been generally on the up-and-up lately. (Of course it is: its got a new brand, after all.)

This month, Winnipeger Diana Thorneycroft’s staged tableaux of dolls and action figures are a jarring review of sordid moments in Canadian history. It’s full of the unexpected – at least, it was, until you read this blog – and twists perceptions. First off, the exhibition’s title, “A People’s History” plays on the recent CBC television series of the same title – but as much as the Ceeb made a fair effort to ensure the low-lights of our past were not lost amidst the high-lights, Thorneycroft totally leaves the warm fuzzy feelings to the Heritage Minutes and delves into our nation’s tragedies and horror.

The compositions are disturbing, and effective. Children’s toys, dioramas and doll’s clothing set out abstracted, yet easily recognisable parts of Canadian history often glossed over. Backgrounds pulled from Group of Seven landscapes add to the juxtaposition of Canada’s natural pride and, as the AGR review writes, “our national shames”. I remember seeing a Lego version of the famous Fathers of Confederation portrait in Charlottetown, and thinking “cute”; but taking negative moments in history and associating them with kids’ toys adds a creepiness that strikes you more than photos of the real thing.

The attention to detail is amazing. Documenting child abuse by religious clergy, there’s period-appropriate clerical garb – as much as it points out the abuses of various churches throughout Canadian history, the use of historic accoutrements rather than modern-day robes and collars also emphasises that current-day churches have addressed and are eliminating abuse:

North-West Rebellion leader and Manitoba MP Louis Riel stands defiant on the gallows, a perfectly looped hangman’s knot in doll-sized thread awaiting above; a flock of crows – a murder, after all (Thorneycroft settles the “criminal or loyal citizen” debate) – above and at his feet complete the image:

The exploitation of the Dionne Quintuplets appears at first as it was in real life: five cute kids, hamming it up in the public spotlight, enjoying the free toys and baby supplies from fawning sponsors. But a closer look at the scene shows the truth: kid-sized barbed wire and handcuffs protect the commercial investment:

The internment of Canadians of Japanese descent in the Second World War is captured with racially-representative figures – funny, I never even though of dolls or action figures being available in non-white – and the hanging body in the background (suicide or lynch?) clearly reminds that internment was no mere camping trip to ride out the war:

On the other hand, the sexual abuse of junior hockey players by their coach is the most subtle of all: a taller figure wearing a jacket stitched “coach” extends a hand to a boy holding a hockey bag. The back alley setting and lighting, boy pinned against the wall, set the sinister mood:

The beating death of a First Nations man by Saskatoon on an infamous “starlight tour” is also referenced, but here Thorneycroft’s detail is off – the car in the background clearly has multicolour RCMP markings, though the Mounties had no part in this tragedy whatsoever:

Finally, fresh from the headlines, the underwear-wearing Russell Williams is immortalised. Thorneycroft’s detail comes through on the correctly-ranked air force Colonel’s uniform, complete with medals and rank bars, and the stark expression on the mannequin’s face. The bizarreness of the real thing is even more disturbing in action-figure child’s playset format:

The use of children and toys to capture very “adult” themes has been used before: Jonathan Hobin‘s photo series “In the Playroom” of kids re-enacting Abu Ghraib torture and the 11th September attacks disturbingly mixed modern-day horror with the innocent space of the kid’s playroom. But I think the technique is apt – when we approach horror and tragedy as abstracted through our limited experience and think we understand, to see how kids might broach the same with their understanding, shows our true disconnect.

Similarly, the AGR’s show notes summarise, “Thorneycroft’s serious play is an absorbing effort to inhabit scenes that most of us know from a distance. Only a few of the images are explicit. Most present a moment just before the crime. Our imaginations and memories create the rest.” As toys do for kids, so they do for us in Thorneycroft’s exhibition: they give us a focus for our imaginations and bridge our limited experience to the “real world out there”. They let us play and pretend what it’s like to know what “grown-ups” do – and it can be tragic.

“A People’s History”, 1 Sep – 8 Oct at the Art Gallery of Regina, 2420 Elphinstone St at College Av.

All along I thought I looked pretty clearly “Navy”, but now there’s more to it: the navy brought back the executive curl to the officer’s rank stripes. Talking with the other land-locked sailors here on this army base it was a complete surprise, but a nice touch for our 100th anniversary. (It looks like we weren’t the only ones pleasantly surprised: editorials pushing for the curl also seemed to come out of nowhere – apparently some with a penchant for naval (and sartorial) history have some pull with some well-placed Members of Parliament.)

The curl – a loop embellishment added to the upper-most bar of an officer’s rank stripes – has always distinguished the world’s naval staff from their army and air force counterparts. (The only major navies without it are the Americans, Chinese, French and Russians.) But at some point in the 60s, Canada’s military was de-traditionalised by eliminating the “Royal” from the Royal Canadian Navy and Royal Canadian Air Force. As well, with the rise of Canada’s role as a neutral peacekeeping force, British-style uniforms in the navy, army and air force – thence officially “Maritime”, “Land” and “Air Commands” respectively – were all exchanged for a common American-style green to distance ourselves from a colonial image.

You can imagine how, in an organisation and culture where tradition is so important and essential to identity, the move never sat well with many. So sometime in the 80s, more traditional uniforms were restored: once again, like the rest of the world, “Maritime Command” staff looked “navy”, and “Air Command” now “air force” in logical black (or white, in summer) and blue respectively; the army returned to the worldwide standard tans for summer and dark green for winter.

It wasn’t quite a complete return to normal: instead of the usual jumpers for sailors and tunics for officers (6-button for Petty and 8-buttons for the rest), a typically-Canadian egalitarian compromise resulted in a 6-button double-breasted suit for everyone in the navy. At first, like other navies in the world, medals were high on the left shoulder and wings above the left sleeve, but both later brought to the breast line like the other Canadian services. (Easier to enforce on parade inspection?)

The army’s tan summer uniform wasn’t quite a return to the Commonwealth standard either but another Canadian affectation: officer’s ranks stayed as stripes on the cuffs like the 60s green instead of pips and crown back onto the shoulders. They never came up with tan versions of the badges and stripes either, so there was always an odd dark-green background to everything that clashed with the tan. (Sometime in the cost-cutting 90s, the tan version was eliminated, leaving now only the dark green for year-round wear.)

The air force uniform was probably the most faithful return to the original – back in blue, though a lighter shade of blue than traditional; ranks kept the 60s experimental gold over the usual air force white and blue, but remained on the sleeve cuff, and the ever-aerodynamic wedge cap was back. (Like the other services, the Cadet’s uniforms remained the closest to tradition: belt over the tunic, and ranks in white thread with crowns instead of maple leaves throughout.)

It took a little while for the newly-curled ranks to make it to this army base – about a year, to be exact – but here in the land-lubbing middle of New Brunswick, you can now “Go Navy”!

No doubt about it, the curl does complete the naval uniform – the previous flat bars do look quite odd and out of place now in comparison:

Apparently, many officers eager to look the part before the supply system caught up with the necessary demand splurged on alterations or sourcing the curled ranks from other navies – not inexpensively. You can see up close the huge difference in tailoring skill to successfully crimp that loop out of the gold braid:

The shirt shoulder slip-ons used to use the same braid as the shoulder boards, but to simplify things (and avoid having thick hunks of braid bulging on your shoulders when you wear your tunic over – thicker still with the Medical scarlet cloth between the braid), the curled slip-ons replicate the design in flat rows of embroidered thread:

On the work uniforms, it’s an easy swap to carry on the naval distinction: dress shirt slip-ons also go on the blue naval work shirt, while a black-on-green embroidered version go on the both camouflage combat uniforms and flying suits. Naval officers can now beat their Hearts of Oak anytime, anywhere:

Here at an army base, the curl does get some questions from time to time: patients sometimes ask “By the way sir, what rank is that?” as I leave. According to our Padre (also a naval lieutenant), junior ranks have been walking by her lately without saluting – training at an army base, maybe that’s not totally unexpected that new recruits might not recognise what the embellished rank is. People still even ask “what uniform is that?” when they see the blue-and-black Naval Combat Dress around here:

Perhaps just like in the 80s when the Big Green Fighting Machine was restored to traditional black, green and blue dress uniforms, it just might take some getting used to. It speaks to one of the core difficulties of managing a “brand”: how to change it and achieve recognition, especially when the last change was such a departure from other familiar “products” like it – ie, every other navy, army and air force in the world – and getting used to that was itself a decades-long endeavour from the 60s to 80s, trying to explain why our navy was dressed in green, and called “Maritime Command”.

With that: perhaps the next step to restoring our identity – bringing back the Royal Canadian Navy? At last check with the General himself, it wasn’t likely… but like bringing back the executive curl, you never know what editorials might show up or how our MPs will decide how we should carry on. Like they teach you on Basic Training, you just do what you’re told, wear what you’re given, and answer to whatever you’re called: “Aye Sir!”

No bones about it, it’s a proper meal. Start with your choice of home baked bread and organic vegetable salad. Lightly-dressed, it’s olive-heavy – salt-squeamish beware, have your Nalgene handy (you did remember to take extra water whilst hiking, didn’t you?). Just enough to tide you over whilst the main course is under way.

Maybe it’s being Asian and not growing up with a broad diversity of “white food”, but it’s hard to describe the nuances of Italian food you get from a relatively simple set of core ingredients: tomatoes, olive oil, salt, cheese and meat. Nothing unrecognisable or over-the-top exotic, yet more complex than the spaghetti and meatballs which would be the entirety of my Italian palate growing up, to say the least.

A bowl of pasta as big as your head – handmade and cut to order, and well worth the wait. The paper-thin sheets of pasta are just enough to carry the hearty tomato sauce, cheese and bacon sauce to your palate, then almost dissolve away, yielding the deliciousness within. No token greens or extraneous vegetables trying to pretend this is anything other than what it is – hearty and filling, thick and salty, and clichéd as it is to say: “homemade”.

(I use the same to describe Mum and Dad’s Filipino cooking (switch “salty” for “garlicky” or “vinagry” as appropriate) – so I suppose it’s like my hypothetical Italian mama would make.)

An Octopus’ Garden Artisan Café and Bake Shop – Main Street, Alma – 506 887 1020.

A local chain, they established their neighbourhood street cred by tapping Fredericton’s Mayor Dr Brad Woodside to contribute his creation, The Brad Burger: lettuce, tomato, cheese, onion ring, dill pickle and bacon – if you can’t beat City Hall, you can now take a bite out of the man in charge. (The Oromocto location in the Days Inn enlisted CFB Gagetown’s top soldier Colonel Michael Pearson to deploy the Base Commander burger to their menu: pepper crusted patty, red onion, crispy bacon and mozzarella cheese. There’s also a branch in Saint John apparently; no idea which local celebrity graces their menu – one of the Irvings perhaps?)

Me, I decided to see if the Le Nordique burger would bring any fond reminiscences of living in La Belle Province; even if not, can’t go wrong with smoked back bacon, melted brie, caramelised onions and dijon mustard. No, you can’t. Good proportions of each to go with the 6oz 100% Angus beef patty – so often, you get a meager sliver of bacon and a few shreds of cheese with so-called all-dressed burgers (not naming names here), but Relish gives you a generous helping you can actually savour.

The bun too steps up to the plate: no mere bystander handhold for the meaty and cheesy goodness within, it’s poppy-seed topped, just soft enough inside to soak up the grainy dijon and spiced Angus beef juices, and toasty on the outside without being crisp. That, it leaves to the fries: audibly crisp and steaming hot, and also appropriately-portioned; though a bit over-salted, nothing a tap against the heavy, cast-iron griddle platter you’re served in won’t fix.

Which will leave you reaching for a cool drink to wash it down; Pop Shoppe pop entices in the retro stubby glass bottles, but brace yourself for a glucose bolus: in old-school flavours like cream soda and Lime Rickey (tastes limey, not sure about rickey), for those of us unfamiliar with the classics it takes sugar water to a entirely new level. As does Relish generally with the burger joint experience in Fredericton: a solid, hearty patty with a silly, entertaining, over-the-top counter service.

It’s contrived, but it’s kind of fun. Your meal ready to pick-up is heralded by the burger assembler: “Order for Bob!” Other staff, chorus: “Bob!” (“Bob” = your name.) Not for the shy (or vegetarian trying to anonymously steal a secret carnivorous indulgence) – but even the most diehard introverts will find the dining worth it. Just take an Ativan before you go in, along with the Lipitor you’ll need for all that beefy deliciousness.

Relish – 348 King St – 506 454 9331.

There’s now four Korean dishes on offer. Instead of a regular old cookie or muffin to go with your (fairly-traded) coffee or tea break, you can get a healthy snack-sized vegetable roll for 4$, or a Korean omelette for 2$. More substantially for mealtime, there’s a sweet beef bulgogi, or a spicy pork bulgogi – both 6,75$, and both trimmed out with sesame-garnished steamed rice and a slice of the Korean omelette for a protein boost. And with the new hours, you can do lunch or dinner – or both.

Without a kitchen on-site the platter doesn’t come out quite as piping hot or sizzling as a full-service restaurant, but it’s fresh and fast. Rice is fluffy and light, a necessary substrate to balance out the sweat-inducing spice of the marinated pork. Simple and unpretentious, no flashy garnish to detract from the home-made cuisine. Portion size is satisfying, and it has a substantial meat ratio (about two-thirds), meaning that you do get good value for your daily nutritional requirements.

The omelette, at least as a side dish here, is a nice touch (again boosting the protein content – like having a Korean mum making sure you’re eating right), though perhaps by the time I got to it after finishing the main event it had cooled off too much for a fair test. Lightly salted, it too is good substrate to balance out the spicy pork that gives the dish its name.

Because I don’t work Downtown I don’t know how busy the place gets during the work week, but I’m surprised how relatively under-filled this place is during the evenings. By that I mean, by any standard this place should be packed – fine coffee, sweet treats, the cozy ambience of bistro tables, brick walls and leather chairs, classical music overhead, the day’s Globe and Mail to hand; and if you’re taking your drink to go, spoons or spaghetti instead of stir sticks for the environmentally-conscious – it should be the go-to place Downtown for all things caffeinated.

Service is fast and with a very sunny smile from both the owners; order at the counter and they take it to your table, cutlery and chopsticks. With some home made fast food options now on the menu, I should expect to see more Frederictoners counting themselves with the “Friends”.

Coffee and Friends – 415 King St – 506 455 4554.