By Michael Eddy



Having made it onto the island of Montreal before dawn, the bus was parked in a forlorn shopping mall parking lot on the Eastern-most tip. It was early enough in the morning that the sky was dark and cloudy and the grey air thick with suspicion. We were expected visitors. The bus was full of the group of mostly young people that was to be known as the 'Maritimes contingent'. After some hours the bus crept to a location on the side of Mount Royal. There was to be a meal in the park near where Tam-Tam happens. Above the treeline. Carrying backpacks, coolers and water jugs up the hill, we passed a gazebo where some figures wrapped in blankets were still sleeping.

A discussion: who was going to check in with the organizers at the headquarters downtown? Whoever it would be, they would have to be able to run; Two people. I opted for the task, and another guy, who was more experienced. We would hurry down and then hurry back up. Police would be picking up anyone from a certain demographic if their number was small enough. We slid away while the others ate oatmeal. There was nobody at the headquarters. It was still before nine in the morning. My partner and I would report as much to the folk on the hill. Power-walking back, my partner seemed very enthusiastic about what would happen the next day, there was a wildness in his eyes and a seriousness under his beard. We made it back to the park and breakfast was finished; we would all move by bus down to a building in the university.

The organizers met us on a corner and ushered us hastily into the basement as if on the street we would run out of oxygen. My memory may have been affected by the excitement, but the streets indeed seemed more vacant than usual; whether it had more to do with the images in our heads from other stories or potential scenarios, than with the actual layout and administration of the city, the space of Montreal had somehow become predatory. In the basement, more discussion and preparation, question and answer, exercise. The long room was set up as a scale of willingness to proximity, cold to hot; Who would rather hang back in the green zone? Who would participate in the snake march? Who intended to destroy property? Who would fight back a riot cop? Depending on where your feet left you in the room, the people around you would be your affinity group. It was the time to get to know them. Later there was a child-friendly demonstration where a few thousand attendees were expected. The theme was 'No one is illegal'.

My clearest memory of that event was a confrontation that happened while the huge crowd was waiting to begin movement. Near to where I was standing was a pale man with a beard displaying copies of newsletters for the Canadian Trotskyists. A representative from a rival Communist group began to chide the Trotskyist as to his organization's policy on Quebec separatism. Immediately, they turned into dueling tubas, deafly bawling out the technicalities of their stances at each other while a few amused onlookers watched. Overall the march went well, I thought. The next day was to be the non-child-friendly version.

Michael Eddy is an artist currently residing in Frankfurt Germany. This week Reading Montreal will feature two more installments of Michael's memoirs of Montreal and the WTO protests of 2003.


JON KNOWLES




Jon Knowles is an artist, collaborator, and high school art teacher, born in Oshawa Ontario and currently residing in Montreal.
He is interested in the blogsphere's potential as a venue for the
exhibition of artworks, and ephemeral text based projects.

As this week's guest editor, Jon has assembled text pieces from
Michael Eddy, Rob Knowles, Kerry Byrne, Adrienne Connelly
and Roxanne Arsenault.

Visit Jon's blog to view his on-going archival project "Robert Smithson's Record Collection".

Also, see Jon's collaborative work on the "KNOWLESEDDYKNOWLES" blog.