Remember that weekend when it was minus twenty out? On the Saturday I welcomed staying home – not running around doing carpools, but rather being “forced” into the luxury of cooking all day. (A warm pot simmering on the stovetop is the pinnacle of coziness for me.) But then there’s reality – kids in each others’ (and my!) hair, the endless cycle of preparing food, feeding, cleaning, and the constant jaw-clench inducing question: “Can I go on my ipad now?” (I’ve mastered saying “no” with a non-smirk smile; I kinda sing it.)
On Sunday, when the temperatures were still so frigid that being out for longer than ten minutes might translate into a shooting headache, I made the kids bundle up and walk nine minutes to take in some of Toronto’s culture in the form of the Design TO Festival. We landed at Artscape Youngplace with a load of energy, and as is common in these situations I had to stay on high alert to ensure this energy didn’t squelch the beautiful quiet that is often the inside of that building, with it’s exposed brick, old bones and a heaviness much like a grandfather’s embrace.
Our first exhibit was called Never Never Land. The artist drew on childhood games and the colour blue for inspiration. Some of the installations were hands on – a beautiful thing for the kids in tow – and others created conversation that surprised me. It wasn’t their curiosity that caught my attention – kids are naturally good at that – but the tranquility they emanated being with the art. Perhaps they were feeling as caged up at home as I had been, and welcomed this stark contrast in time and place.
Their stillness, however, was most noticeable as we entered another exhibit entitled “Dying.” Here, there were multiple installations, all surrounding our relationship with death and dying: a “constellation” where you could use a ball of string to map your experience with the death of a family member you lost; a cage filled with umpteen prescription bottles – a nod to the medicalization of sickness and dying; and there was a tongue in cheek video (and a model) of a DIY coffin – made from a heavy cardboard that promised comfort, ease and was “mostly free.” Wary at first of what this exposure might mean, I was blown away by how the children received it….again: tranquil intrigue and interest.
The final installation of this exhibit was a wall where you could write on an index card and post your thoughts on death, dying and the nature (tenderness) of mortality. Without hesitation the kids penned their ideas about the imminence of death (“death can make you look back on the great things in life”), about how to live in the face of it (“live while it lasts”) and about what death may really mean day to day (“I miss my Zaida so much, he was the best”).
I took pictures of their words for posterity. I read them again and again. Out of the frigid cold that day came warm wisdom.