Photos provided by Gent Zaplluzha (GZ) and Stephane Mukunzi (SM). Scroll down for photo essay.
00 :: straight out the whole-y land, we wondered if Sir Robert remembered himself at one point, as his own band's only fan. a mesh of common folk were billeted underneath the tent like an army of activists waiting to hear a filling of wise words or thick trumpets, whichever came first.
01 :: lately, fidelia says he can't even find the time, while for me, blunders are popping amass like two fools in love and last night was no exception. Dr. David worked his magic and let PACE document the Robert Glasper Experiment kicking it before their show at the TD Ottawa Jazz Festival.
02 :: burritos, salads and other delicacies we couldn’t munch on // in a trailer by an avenue once known as Maria Street - all before Willie Laurier was honoured.
03 :: the blunder / during one of the introductory hellos, a member opposite was asked if he were the tour manager. “No,” he responded, followed by laughter from his sitting neighbour and c'était fini.
he later revealed himself to being their exceptional guitarist. sincere sorries.
04 :: a bunch of young kids won meet and greets with the band & the best advice man's could hold down as they climbed the trailer stairs was, "remember, they're regular people, just like the rest of us."
05 :: there were about six or seven of them, politics was a little off grid and so the idea of visiting parliament was more than they could make allowance for.
thankfully, Timothy mentioned Oscar Peterson’s statue by the National Arts Centre and that lit things up.
we then had about a minute and four seconds to snap the equipment on stage. Dr. David kept vigilant track of time.
06 :: "Fuck! This is so psychedelic."
- overheard in the crowd.
07 :: Robert glassed his keys, the guitar swapped for a saxophone, the drummer all purposefully off beat as he set the speed particularly in advance to a better place // a live jazz jam session.
and that cover of Roxanne.
08 :: the show was over and the group's DJ dropped UGK's Int'l Players Anthem. have I ever told you that Bun B has the voice of butter floating a river in India aboard a maple canoe?
there were screams for an encore. Sir Robert came out, said it wasn't possible - the usual blabber about noise levels and other whimsical irrelevancies. a young lady popped her head from out the curtain and chucked her thumb up.
we hope she's still employed.
09 :: and in the voice of the Experiment, the crowd was asked, “who are we?” and the response was, “we are awake.”
PACE would like to thank the staff and volunteers at TD Ottawa Jazz Festival for granting us permission for this exclusive piece. None of this would be possible without Dr. David.
Broken Clocks :: " Each image constitutes an aesthetic sensitivity approach that is both, time intimate and social. In this work, I’m trying to come to terms with how I honestly see and depict women's identity.
In the Broken Clocks series, colours and lights are woven into our minds for a self-examination of what we consider to be essential and true. Are my pictures romanticized? Sexualized? Why do I see women in this way?
For me, photography is as much about the way I respond to the subject as it is about the subject itself. I feel that my background in fine art photography serves me to creating portraits that are rich in detail and texture, without losing interest in the subject. "
Bio: ThierryJ.Benson was born in Haiti, but raised in Canada. Finding his passion in the arts, he studied in fine art photography at Concordia University as well commercial photography at Dawson College in Montreal. His focus is on shooting intimate life moments - depicting an entire story with only one picture. Currently living in Montreal, he often travels to meet new people and discover places for inspiration.
What is in a name?
That is a question I have been struggling with my entire life. When someone asks me my name, why do I always answer “Moh”? That is not the name my parents gave me. They named me Mohammad.
Identity is a funny thing. It’s a concept I have wrestled with for years, growing up as the born product of refugees from a land I’m told is no longer mine. Growing up in white schools and white neighbourhoods, I tried to be more like everyone else, but some things can’t just be shaken. I’m brown.
When I go through airport security, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name. When I click submit on that online job posting, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name. When I check off the ‘visible minority’ box on every form I fill out, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name.
And when I walk the streets of Palestine, I’m a young brown man with an Arab name, only this time, I’m the norm.
So what about here? Canada? My place of birth? One of my homes?
The truth is, I’m still a young brown man with an Arab name, and that’s not going to change no matter how much I travel or where I go.
So, for the kids in Canada named Mohammad that bring weird lunches to school, I guess what I’m trying to say is: be you. Embrace it, because that doesn’t change.
And when the time comes when they ask you your name, tell them what makes you comfortable. But if you shorten it like I did, make sure it’s because you want to, don’t do it for others. Your name, your identity, that’s your home, no matter where you are.
Mohammad Mousa is a 23 year old Palestinian-Canadian, born and raised in Ottawa, Ontario. He graduated from the University of Ottawa in 2015 with a major in Conflict Studies and Human Rights, lived and worked in the West Bank, and plans to continue on to graduate studies in a related field within the next year.