It’s been awhile since I felt like an Accidental VIP. Summer has been pretty casual, but now September is here, and I always feel a new beginning in September. Once upon a time it was because I was an academic and September, of course, marked the beginning of a new school year. Now, however, my lofty ideals have brought me to a new annual tradition: the Toronto International Film Festival. I am moving past the Uma Thurman party this year and checking out some of the films and exhibitions that make this festival wonderful.

Earlier this week I was fortunate enough to have been invited to a private viewing of Road Movie, a film installation from directors Elle Flanders and Tamira Sawatzky. The exhibition examined the segregated road systems in the West Bank, incorporating stop motion photography and personal narratives from the very people who use these roads to create a visually arresting and thought-provoking work.

With three double-sided screens set up in sequence to call to mind the road blocks and checkpoints along the road systems of the West Bank, the installation is a physical manifestation of two nations on opposite sides of the wall, trying to make sense of what separates them.

I spent about an hour viewing the films and listening to the audio pieces, and to be honest, I was left a bit speechless afterward. I wished I had given myself a day or so to digest what I was seeing before interviewing the directors. Nonetheless, and with no small thanks to Elle Flanders and Tamira Sawatzky, consummate professionals who were able to answer the questions I didn’t think to ask myself, I managed to get their take on the exhibit and its relevance to the queer community. You can listen to that interview here.

Road Movie is showing at O’Born Contemporary, in the studio space on the 5th floor of 51 Wolseley Street, until September 18th. There will be a reception with the directors in presence on Saturday, September 10th, from 6 to 9 PM. Check it out—it’s incredible.

This weekend Michelle’s parents were visiting from New York, so we decided to give them our very own VIP treatment.

Michelle spent the better part of the beginning of the year curating an exhibition at the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives to celebrate the 100th Anniversary of International Women’s Day. Michelle and her fellow curator Roberta Wiseman had designed the space to resemble a women’s centre like the kind in which I first cut my feminist teeth when I was but a wee thing, with bulletin boards, posters, banners, and slogans painted on the wall. It opened on March 3rd with a great reception—cookies and tea were involved.

As a dedicated volunteer to the Archive and recently a lead archivist, Michelle has the keys to the kingdom. Quite literally, she has a key to get into the Archive during off-hours. So we decided to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon treating her folks to a private viewing of the exhibition. They were suitably impressed.

Michelle gave them a tour of the CLGA’s lovely new abode, a gorgeous Edwardian Italianate on Isabella Street. Being history, art, and architecture buffs, the folks were well pleased with the space and the collection. Michelle’s exhibition is on until May 12th at the CLGA, 34 Isabella Street. I encourage you to check it out.

Just around the corner on Church, there is a little gallery called Akasha Art Projects that I happened to know was going to be having an opening that afternoon. The owners are two lovely women, artists themselves, originally from Vancouver, who had done much of the framing for Michelle’s exhibition, and I had been over to the gallery to see their last show. This new opening was a solo exhibition of photography by Marni Grossman, a West Coast artist who captures the evocative, often ethereal landscapes of the Pacific Northwest.

Mama Schwartz was captivated both by the images themselves and by the pigment printing process the artist had used, giving the photographs an almost painted feel. I myself was transported back to my earliest youth, when these very landscapes made up the world around me. It was a dramatic exhibition and the folks were thrilled. And once again, I recommend anyone in the Toronto area visit Akasha Art Projects to see the gallery—upstairs at 511 Church Street.

Having whet our appetites with our art expeditions, we were ready to find some food. Every time the folks come to town, we are charged with the task of finding a new and suitably expensive place at which to let them treat us to dinner. If it doesn’t break the bank enough, they accuse us of being too proud to accept their generosity. The truth is that the finer dining places in town can be pretty short of vegetarian options, though, so we try to go for a nice middle ground—something romantic enough to suit their fancy for the fancy, but nothing too terribly upscale.

This time we had chosen a place in Little Italy that had an enticing menu for all parties. However, when we arrived without a reservation, it turned out that the tables were all booked. The maître d hesitated for a moment, and then informed us that the restaurant had a special private members’ lounge upstairs. As no members had yet arrived, he didn’t see why he couldn’t seat us there, as long as we didn’t tell anyone. Thus, I am not going to tell you the name of this establishment. I made a promise to a fella.

He led us out back outside and over to a door a distance down the street. It had a little grated window on it, and I was momentarily thrilled at the prospect that we would be made privy to some sort of speakeasy code word to gain entrance, but it turns out that the maître d had a fob key that did the trick. Modern times, man. What will they think of next?

We were led upstairs to a quiet, comfortable booth in a dimly lit room. The server brought over bread and menus, leaving us to get settled. I opened the menu to find a list of club rules. It was fantastic. Apparently this private club was one for appreciators of fine spirits and cocktails. There were the expected don’t-pass-your-membership-card-around kinds of rules, along with more prescriptive fellas-please-don’t-hit-on-the-ladies and don’t-get-too-drunk admonitions. But my favourites included the rule about people under the age of 25 having to be accompanied by an adult and not ordering generic drinks that you probably heard about on a TV show.

Incredible. We were greatly amused. The room soon began to fill with those fine spirit aficionados, but nonetheless, we were never rushed through our dinner. The service was second to none. Even when they brought me a dish I hadn’t ordered, resulting in my having to wait for my meal while the others began to eat, the server was quick to make up for the mistake by offering us extra wine. I’ll take that! In the end the food was delicious and the ambience quite impressive.

So we enjoyed our visit to the secret little speakeasy—truly the most accidental of my VIP experiences to date!—and will very likely be returning to that restaurant, although I suspect that the next time we’ll be sitting in the dining room with the regular folk. Note to self: reservations required.