La Plateau. This was my favorite neighborhood of all the places we went, but unfortunately, that was only on the last morning in Montreal.
There was a large Moroccan/Algerian population in that area, so I was seeing structures like the door below, or windows full of colors, patterns, and fabrics…where I could stand out on the street sketching after breakfast and hear someone around the corner playing a mournful saxophone. Unfortunately, we had to head back before I had time to finish these, be in Burlington, Vermont by five o’clock. there’d been a show added at the Firefly Collective space there. Passing through customs both coming and going was actually a lot quicker than everyone had told me to anticipate, though on the way back in the customs agent initially seemed perplexed by the idea of a book tour that involved projected images, live musicians, and artists. We arrived in Burlington on schedule, and upon stepping out of the car were accosted by a local drummer who asked if he could join the show, and if we had any weed on us. We answered in the negative to both, and then Eric and I crossed the street to see if we could use the bathroom at a local bar. The establishment seemed to have no problem with that…particularly considering we walked in on the middle of a crime scene. A young dishwasher was giving an account to a cop of some presumably jacked-up mofo who’d raced in, raised hell, and raced out through the kitchen door into the back alley.
And to think, all this happened the first five minutes we arrived in town.
This was a dog I was given a rather amazing biography of, which is written in to the drawing. I also got about three minutes of him deciding to cut in during warm up and add some vocals. Unfortunately, since I have the cheapest camera money can buy from a Knickerbocker Ave. electronics shop, Andy’s saxophone seems to be overriding the mike on it and creating these sharp static sounds. Maybe my next self-taught endeavor can be learning how to clean up sound files in Audacity or something.