In the course of a year there come into view many elite efforts, ranging from graphic art to architecture. We pay due homage to the heart and wit going into this range of mountainous delights; but as urbanites continually in the midst of special accomplishment verging on the uncanny we readily suppose that the crème de la crème is our business and not for those who live in the hinterland.
That is not a particularly bad thing to carry around, but it tends to, if not overlook completely other fields of special endeavor, give them short shrift—a carelessness which arbiters of cool and chic do not even begin to realize how severely the peril therewith places one. It is one thing to thrill in being in on a sea-change of sensibility and creative power. It is something else to factor in that most of the population will never take this feast to heart.
Imagine, then, our enchantment with an incident–within one of the most egregious jags of preening in the spotlight of the in-the-know, namely, the annual Toronto Luminato Arts Festival–coming out of left field which sets its sights squarely upon that dilemma of disaffection. Continue reading