Category: Ar(t)chives

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Existential art: a brief look at Alex Colville’s Pacific

Pacific, one of Colville’s most well known works, challenges viewers to be inquisitive and to derive their own meaning from this complex piece of art

I first encountered Alex Colville’s work in an introductory art history class during my second year at Concordia. Our professor had us observe several works from the Canadian artist, and try to decipher the meaning behind them.

Colville was primarily concerned with realism, deriving inspiration for many of his works from his life in the Maritimes, as well as his experience serving in the Second World War. Although Colville has quite a few noteworthy paintings, there’s one that has stuck with me ever since I first saw it: Pacific (1967).

This work features a man leaning against a wall as he vacantly stares out at a tranquil body of water. However, this won’t be the first thing that viewers notice. Behind the man rests a pistol on a table, its barrel angled towards the observer. Although Colville’s work often explores themes such as the use of power, postwar anxiety, and morality, coupled with his interest in French existentialism, it appears that the artist would prefer that his audience attempt to interpret what Pacific means to them.

In several of his paintings, Colville presents a landscape that is eerily serene, where he then juxtaposes it with a chaotic subject. His pieces, especially Pacific, leave us with questions that are uncomfortable to confront: what is the man in the painting contemplating? Why is the gun angled towards the audience? Will the man end up using it?

His work draws us in, and instead of providing clear-cut answers and satiating our desire for more vibrant, serotonin-boosting pieces, these paintings demand that we be inquisitive. They expect us to dig a bit deeper, and to get into the heads of the subjects that Colville so carefully crafted.

When viewers are unable to decide on a narrative and make sense of a subject’s motives, they may walk away feeling uneasy. But this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Art that gets us thinking, especially pieces that cause us to ponder existential questions we may try to avoid, might help us view the world a bit differently. Sure, it can be gloomy to try and make sense of a painting like Pacific, but our own interpretations of a piece often say a lot more about how we view our society and ourselves, rather than the direct intentions of the artist.

In a world where many things tend to move at breakneck speed, there’s nothing wrong with taking some time to engage with a complex work that requires careful introspection from its observer. You might even learn something new about yourself in the process.

 

Visuals courtesy of Taylor Reddam

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Art for a changing world

How the Harrisons’ multidisciplinary practice tackled environmental issues

Known as “the Harrisons,” Newton and Helen Mayer Harrison were trailblazers in the eco-art movement. Their collection ranged from manifestos to maps, and sculptural installations. If a viewer didn’t know, they might interpret their work as data rather than art.

The couple’s multidisciplinary practice, which ranged a variety of disciplines, explored forestry issues and urban renewal, among others. This led them to collaborate with biologists, urban planners, architects, and more.

What makes their work particularly fascinating is not solely the aesthetic aspect of it, but rather the fact that each piece could be viewed as a solution to ecological issues.

“Our work begins when we perceive an anomaly in the environment that is the result of opposing beliefs or contradictory metaphors,” they said, according to a statement on their studio’s website. “Moments when reality no longer appears seamless and the cost of belief has become outrageous offer the opportunity to create new spaces – first in the mind and thereafter in everyday life.”

In fact, in the 1960s, the couple pledged they would exclusively create art that involved environmental awareness and ecosystems.

The Harrisons offered a unique take on art and its purpose, demonstrating the ways in which society’s inclination towards beautiful things makes them more likely to care about important issues if they are exhibited in a tasteful way.

“All of the sudden people are looking at the environment in one way or another, and they’re looking differently,” said Helen in a video of their sculpture Wilma the Pig. “In other words, it’s bringing their attention in a way that is meaningful.’”

The work was displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles for their 2012 exhibition Ends of the Earth: Land Art to 1974, a remake of one of their earlier installations titled Hog Pasture, wherein the creative duo recreated a small live pasture within the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. They had intended on bringing a hog into the space, however, the museum refused.

Among their other large-scale projects is The Force Majeure (2007 to present). The ongoing series is a manifesto for the present and the future and offers proposals to adapt to a changing world.

In fact, the Harrisons started the Center for the Study of the Force Majeure at the University of California, Santa Cruz, a research centre that enables the collaboration between artists and scientists in an effort to design projects that respond to climate change.

Despite art being often deemed unimportant, the Harrisons’ works and legacy demonstrate the ways in which art can serve as an alternative way of discussing important issues.

“Why not artists?” reads a statement on the Centre’s website. “Art is the court of last resort – and our best hope.”

 

Visuals courtesy of Taylor Reddam.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Land Art: investigating humanity’s relationship to nature

The 1960s movement popularized taking art outside of the museum

Upon first glance, Richard Long’s A Line Made by Walking (1967) appears to be a simple monochrome photograph of a grassy field with trees in the distance. The photo, however, only serves as a form of documentation of the artwork itself, which is Long’s interaction with the terrain. This avant-garde form of artmaking is classified as Land Art.

Also known as Earth art, Land Art is created with the surrounding landscape, often taking the form of a performance, sculpture, or installation, and serving just as great of a political purpose as one driven by aesthetic.

The genre gained traction in the 1960s as part of the conceptual art movement, characterized by the notion that the concept behind the work takes precedence over the finalized work itself. In the same respect, Land Art holds its significance due to the idea of the artist’s physical intervention with their environment.

Notable figures who contributed to the movement’s popularity include Richard Long, Nancy Holt, Michael Heizer, and Robert Smithson, all of whom used natural elements as a means of investigating and creating a narrative about humanity’s interactions and relationship with the surrounding environment.

One of the most acclaimed works of Land Art is Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty (1970). Situated on the shore of the Great Salt Lake, Utah, the installation uses over six thousand tons of black basalt rocks and earth to form a spiral-shaped sculptural installation along the shore. The otherworldly work resembles a galaxy and, according to Art & Place, published by Phaidon, the nearly 460 metre-long spiral was created by bulldozing material from the shore into the lake.

“Built at the mouth of a terminal basin rich in minerals and nearly devoid of life, ​Spiral Jetty ​is a testament to Smithson’s fascination with entropy,” reads a statement on The Holt/Smithson Foundation website, demonstrating the ways in which Smithson was greatly inspired by geology and the natural sciences.

The site on which the installation is located is owned by Dia, an art foundation dedicated to preserving artists’ visions by commissioning and exhibiting site-specific installations. The foundation welcomes visitors to the site and advises them to “leave no trace” behind. In other words, visitors mustn’t interfere with the environment or the art, leaving it exactly how they found it in an effort to preserve it for future generations of viewers.

Aside from the grandeur of Smithson’s work, what makes his collection particularly fascinating is its volatility; being made entirely of natural resources means that the work can dissipate at any given moment, should it be subject to a slight disruption.

Nancy Holt, on the other hand, explored the genre through a different approach. Holt’s series Trail Markers (1969) consists of photographs that document the artist’s journey through Dartmoor National Park in England.

“Holt resists the panoramic, all-encompassing view, offering instead an experience of the landscape that is at once dynamic and myopic,” states the work’s description on The Holt/Smithson Foundation website.

The photographs, which are all focused on very specific parts of the landscape, neglect the vastness of the mountains, instead giving viewers an encounter that is representative of the artist’s experience within the space.

Whether it be through photographs or an expansive installation, Land Art serves as a reminder of nature’s grandiosity and impermanence.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Helen Frankenthaler’s abstract climates

A deep-dive into the artist’s influential role on the abstract movement

A practicing artist for over 60 years, Helen Frankenthaler’s collection of works spanned many key moments and transformations in abstract art. The American abstract expressionist has actually been recognized for her contributions to postwar abstract painting.

Frankenthaler has been attributed with the influential shift of abstract expressionism to colour field painting, alongside the likes of other notable figures such as Mark Rothko and Ad Reinhardt.

Colour field painting — a genre characterized by compositions containing large, simple fields of colour — emerged in the 1950s and marked a pivotal moment in modern art, marked by the separation of emotion and religion from painterly depictions.

In addition to Frankenthaler’s effect on the transition into a new artistic era, she gained notoriety for further developing the technique of colour-staining. The technique had initially been developed by Jackson Pollock, who earned acclaim for pouring paint and pigments directly onto a canvas.

Opposite Pollock’s bombastic technique, Frankenthaler applied thin washes of paint to unprimed canvases, giving them an almost whimsical appearance. A key example of this technique can be observed in Mountains and Sea (1952), which consists of organic strokes of vibrant blue, green, and pink hues against a pale yellow background.

Contrary to Mountains and Sea, her work Shippan Point: Twilight (1980) features wider, harsher, and darker brushstrokes. The use of black overlayed on turquoise and blue hues gives the viewer the same sense as being by the water at night. And rightly so; a quick Google search about Shippan Points yields hundreds of photos of a Connecticut peninsula featuring a pier, dock, and the deep blues of the Atlantic ocean rising up against the shoreline.

Despite not being a direct rendition of mountains and the sea, or of a dock by the ocean, Frankenthaler’s work somehow manages to elicit the same feeling of looking at a landscape. Vibrant, yet serene and somewhat chaotic, yet dainty, the artist’s canvases capture the calming effects that colour and simplicity can have on the mind, as well as the unpredictability of the elements surrounding us.

“My pictures are full of climates, abstract climates,” said Frankenthaler, in regards to her work. “They’re not nature per se, but a feeling.”

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Mathematics and spirituality: decoding Hilma af Klint’s work

A brief overview of the Swedish artist’s esoteric paintings

You may recognize Hilma af Klint’s works from their abstract shapes in bold tones of purple, yellow, orange and blue. Combining distinct floral and geometric elements, the Swedish artist’s paintings were greatly inspired by the stages of life.

Born in Stockholm in 1862, af Klint went on to study at Royal Academy of Fine Arts. Meanwhile, she began to immerse herself in spiritualism and Theosophy, a religious movement established in the late 19th century.

According to Encyclopedia Britannica, a key characteristic of Theosophy is the belief that there is a “deeper spiritual reality and that direct contact with that reality can be established through intuition, meditation, revelation, or some other state transcending normal human consciousness.”

Af Klint’s inclination towards this system of beliefs greatly led her to founding “The Five.” The group consisted of women artists who gathered on Fridays for spiritual meetings, wherein they would pray, meditate, and conduct séances, which included the practice of automatic writing and mediumistic drawing exercises.

During one of her meetings with The Five, “an otherworldly ‘guide’ instructed af Klint to design a temple connected by a spiral path, and commissioned her to make paintings for this temple,” according to the Guggenheim. This would subsequently lead af Klint to create 193 works, known collectively today as The Paintings for the Temple. Created between 1906 and 1915, the series of works is recognized today as one of the first examples of western abstract art.

In 1907, af Klint painted a series of 10 works titled The Ten Largest, which demonstrate her interpretations of the messages she believed to have been receiving. The works display connection to the universe through recognizable shapes and patterns such as flowers, cells, eggs, and orbs.

The paintings, which resemble both diagrams and art, draw from science, botany, geometry, and colour theory, offering a glimpse at the way in which everything is connected. Af Klint’s contrasting use of holistic and scientific symbols display the artist’s methodical, yet almost “radical” and abstract approach to artmaking.

Aside from af Klint’s revelatory works, what is remarkable about her practice is how contemporary it feels. The works merge spirituality and science in a way that is seamless, aesthetically pleasing, and that manages to feel relevant today.

As stated by artist R.H. Quaytman in the Hilma af Klint catalogue published by the Guggenheim Museum in New York, “If you . . . didn’t know anything, you’d think these paintings were made ten or twenty years ago. You would not know how old they were. And what’s so thrilling about her work, I find, is how contemporary it feels.”

It is outstanding that works created over a century ago are still pertinent in our age. Perhaps af Klint’s revelations offered her a glimpse into the future.

Graphic by Taylor Reddam-Woo.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

A glimpse at John Kacere’s “body” of work

The artist painted larger-than-life depictions of the female midsection

Upon first glance, John Kacere’s paintings could be mistaken for some NSFW photos. A quick search of his name in the Google search bar yields dozens of photos of bare women’s midriffs and bottoms.

The American artist originally began his career as an abstract expressionist in the 1950s and ‘60s. Works such as Homage to Stuart Davis (1952) feature the same bold geometric shapes painted in primary colors that many artists of the same era, like Joan Miró, are recognized for. These pieces contrast many of his series from the same period, such as three works (1959-1963), which feature a collection of very minimal strokes and shapes on paper.

Kacere experimented with a variety of media, including pencil, graphite and collage, until the late 1960s, when he settled on the oil-on-canvas photorealistic style that he is known for today. One of his first works, Untitled (bikini) (1970), depicts a close-up of a woman’s bikini line. She wears white lingerie, and the shading is so detailed that it appears as though the painting is an enlarged photograph. The painting is nearly 50 inches wide and 40 inches tall — that is over three times “life size.”

The artist maintained this style for the rest of his career, assembling a collection of roughly 130 works, according to the Louis K. Meisel Gallery. Over the years, the New York City gallerist, Louis Meisel, has worked to collect them in order to offer a retrospective of Kacere’s career. Meisel is said to have discovered Kacere’s work via his wife, Susan Pear Meisel, who met Kacere in 1966 when she was a student at Parsons School of Design, where Kacere taught.

In a statement on his gallery website, Meisel writes: “I might point out that Kacere’s work CAN be seen as all three parts of realist painting, portrait, still life AND landscape.”

This quote encompasses many of the aspects present in Kacere’s paintings. Some, like Meisel, have compared the works to landscapes, describing the curve of the womens’ hips as “[building] a terrain across each canvas.” Others, like Melt, have observed the classical resemblance and quality of his work which “could be attributed to the luxurious materials and skin on display.”

While his focus on the beauty of the nude body was recognizably influenced by classical sculptures, it is also interesting to note his displays of female fashions, which make the paintings resemble still lifes. In each work, the depicted woman is clad in a new, intricate and luxurious set of lingerie, and sprawled against luscious patterned silks and satins. The fabrics are shown in a similar manner to the way most still lifes depict ceramic vases or ripe fruit.

His work has, unsurprisingly, been described as erotic and provocative. There is no doubt Kacere was fascinated with the female figure, which, of course, has raised questions regarding objectification. According to Fad, Kacere once stated that “Woman is the source of all life, the source of regeneration. My work praises that aspect of womanhood,” in reply to criticism about his chosen subject matter.

The verdict is still out among art writers and critics on whether Kacere’s work is, in fact, problematic or not. However, his “body” of work makes it clear that he redefined the way we perceive the modern female nude.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

My Wife’s (unlikely) Lovers

The amusing history of an 1891 painting of 42 cats

If you have not yet seen Carl Kahler’s My Wife’s Lovers, I urge you to do so.

Commissioned in 1891 by millionaire and philanthropist Kate Birdsall Johnson, the work features her 42 Persian and Angora cats. A mix of kittens and cats stand poised on Rococo furniture while others are sprawled against a lavish velvet curtain.

Painted by Austrian artist Carl Kahler, the work took three years to complete. According to the Portland Art Museum, this is supposedly because he spent months studying them in preparatory sketches and paintings.

The oil painting, which is 6 by 8.5 feet in size, and weighs roughly 227 pounds, depicts the cats to be larger-than-life. And yes, each and every one of the 42 cats, meticulously painted, belonged to Birdssall Johnson. Despite the Portland Art Museum claiming it to be a falsity, many sources such as Architectural Digest and Sotheby’s declare that the work depicts only 42 of the woman’s 350 cats.

According to an article in the New York Post, the elegant and collected cat that stands at the centre of the painting was a US $3,000 cat named Sultan which she bought during a trip to Paris.

According to many sources, such as the New York Post, it is rumoured that the painting was a gift from her husband, Robert C. Johnson, and that he chose the title My Wife’s Lovers. However, Dawson Carr, curator at the Portland Art Museum states that her husband, in fact, died two years prior but adds that it is a possibility he had used the phrase to refer to her collection of cats in the past and that Birdsall Johsnon simply deemed it fitting as a title for the monumental painting.

Birdsall Johnson reportedly paid approximately US $5,000 in 1891 for the work, which is equivalent to around US $143,000 in 2021.

The work was estimated at a value of $200,000 to US $300,000  by Sotheby’s in 2015 and sold at auction for nearly three times its estimate, at US $826,000  by an anonymous buyer in California.

If you didn’t think it was crazy enough that a lady paid over $140,000 for a painting of her cats, just think that someone paid over half a million for cats that didn’t even belong to them. Another rumour even states that she left her cats over US $500,000 in her will.

My Wife’s Lovers has ignited many rumours. Whether false or not, Birdsall Johnson has proven to be the ultimate crazy cat lady.

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

What is art?

Discussing aesthetics, Dadaism, and intention

Art has long been a disputed form of self-expression. The topic has garnered debate among philosophers, art historians, and artists, and even has an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to its controversiality.

Many jokes and memes have been made around the notion of art’s subjectivity. Books, such as Leo Tolstoy’s What is art? have attempted to answer the question, while Instagram accounts such as freeze_magazine poke fun at and ridicule how absurd the art industry can often be. And you’ve definitely seen the prank where a group of friends placed eyeglasses on the floor of the museum to observe viewers’ reactions and point out how almost anything can be considered art.

This dispute has veered towards problematic for the reason that it ultimately validates an artist’s career. What one might deem to be worth thousands of dollars can be viewed as a piece of old junk to another. We’ve all heard of the stories of someone selling a famous painting for close to nothing in a garage sale, merely because they did not know its “worth.”

So, let’s look at this etymologically. “Art” is derived from the Latin “ars” meaning “acquired skill” or “craft.” In this sense, it is commonly understood that art requires a certain level of skill in order to achieve a desired aesthetic result. Herein lies the problem. “Aesthetic,” like the notion of “beauty,” is inherently subjective.

Dadaism is an ideal example because it, at its core, rejected standard notions of aestheticism and poked fun at art in society. Let’s take, for example, Marcel Duchamp’s Readymades. The acclaimed artist began using and presenting everyday objects as pieces of art. This absurd approach to art-making helped redefine what could be considered art and challenged the idea that art had to be something beautiful and visually appealing. Instead, demonstrating that art could be intellectually appealing.

Constantin Brâncuși’s infamous 1923 work Bird in Space (L’Oiseau dans l’espace) is another prime example of the challenges in defining an object as art. The sculpture faced a number of legal controversies when the artist tried to have it shipped to the United States. Customs officers did not believe that the work was art — art, at the time, was not subject to import taxes — and instead were charged with a 40 per cent tax for “manufactured metal objects.”

According to an article titled Is it Art? published by Harvard Law, after a number of years of legal debate, Brâncuși’s Bird in Space was part of the first court decision stating that “non-representational sculpture could be considered art.” In part, on the basis that the artist intended for the sculpture to resemble the movement of a bird.

Intention brings us back to the eyeglasses meme mentioned earlier. Had the glasses been placed on a coffee table in your home, you wouldn’t have thought much of them. Having been placed on the floor of the gallery, viewers automatically begin to search for a meaning and begin to decipher what they believe the artist’s intention was.

For this reason, art is and will remain subjective. While there may never be one true answer as to what constitutes art, one thing is certain: it is personal, self-informed, and different for everyone. So, what do you consider a work of art?

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam

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Yum or Yikes: Arthurs Nosh Bar

Photo by Huda Hafez

Living in Montreal over the past three years has taught me a lot of things.

I can safely say that it introduced me to one thing that I will forever be grateful for—the concept of brunch. The trend of having brunch has grown dramatically over the past few years, as more and more Instagram influencers snap pictures of their scrumptious avocado toast or their bright-coloured açai bowls.

Being a self-proclaimed foodie, this kick-started my journey of looking for the best brunch place in Montreal. I would spend hours looking over Yelp reviews and scrolling through famous Montreal Instagram food blogs, jotting down the restaurants that piqued my interest and trying them out the next weekend. But that’s not how I discovered Arthurs Nosh Bar. As the famous expression goes: “actions speak louder than words,” and that’s exactly what lured me into trying this unique brunch place. 

As I walked down the streets of St-Henri on a blazing summer day, I noticed a long queue of people standing in front of a bright pink neon sign, impatiently waiting as the sun’s harsh rays beat down on them. Why were those people sacrificing their comfort and waiting this long merely for a brunch place, when there are plenty of others scattered across Montreal? I was intrigued. So I did exactly what they did, and stood in line for a full two hours before I was seated.  

Merely a 10-minute walk from Place-St-Henri metro station, the space is small and packed, but has a comfortable and inviting ambiance. Its white and green walls give you the summer vibe you’ve been yearning to experience all winter. It has an open kitchen, so you get to see the chefs prepare your food, which in turn makes you even hungrier. 

Ambiance: 3.7/5

Their menu offers Jewish classics, ranging from sandwiches, soups and traditional breakfast plates such as smoked salmon bagels and oatmeal. Some of their most notable dishes that I can truly vouch for include the McArthur, the Shak and the Moroccan toast. They also offer vegetarian dishes such as the gluten-free quinoa bowl, and vegan dishes such as the #KGMTL salad. 

On item on the menu, however, most definitely takes the prize: The Grand Slam. Only available on weekends, this dish is hands-down worth the wait. A crunchy, juicy, golden fried chicken thigh rests on top of two fluffy moist pancakes that instantly melt in your mouth as you pour some of their rich maple syrup on top. This is topped off with two slices of savoury beef bacon and a fried egg, complimenting the sweetness of the pancakes, and tying the whole dish together.

Food: 4.8/5 

Once you’re seated, it’s not too long before someone comes and takes your order. The food also arrives pretty quickly considering the vast number of people being served at once.

Service: 4.5/5 

The best part about this is that you get to leave with a belly full of delicious food, and your wallet won’t hate you for it! Their most expensive dish goes for $26, which is a dish for two. The average price point is around $15.

Price: 4.5/5

Photo by Huda Hafez

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Ar(t)chives

Yum or Yikes: ChuChai

ChuChai, located at 4088 St-Denis St., offers a variety of vegan and vegetarian Thai options.

The entrance of the restaurant is quaint but once you push through the large black curtains, the room opens up into a well-lit dining area. One wall was lined with bottles of alcohol from their drink menu and, facing the bar, a beautiful wall covered in a black and white mural. The soundtrack playing in the background was something to be noticed; they played recent pop songs, but also mixed in some classics from the 70s and 80s.

Ambiance: 4/5

ChuChai’s menu instantly drew me in online when I noticed their large variety of mock-meats, from dishes composed of noodles and mock-duck to wonton soups made with soy-based proteins. As a vegan, I am always interested in finding affordable options that are reminiscent of meals I loved before. 

My mother and I chose to order a variety of appetizers, entrees and desserts so we could try as much as possible. For an appetizer, I enjoyed a mock-shrimp platter that looked and tasted like real shrimp, and even had my mother questioning whether it was real. 

Food: 5/5

The price point is a little high, but for the portions and quality of ingredients, it is definitely worth it. For our main meals, my mom ordered an eggplant dish ($16) with a side of rice and I ordered a rice noodle dish with vegan duck ($17). 

Lastly, we ordered dessert. I had a tapioca pudding made with coconut milk ($7)—which I enjoyed slowly because it tasted so good—while my mother ordered a chocolate pudding ($6).

Price: 4/5

I have a severe peanut allergy and they serve dishes with peanuts so I was a little worried when ordering. However, the server assured me everything was cooked separately and while she couldn’t make any guarantees, there has never been an incident at the restaurant concerning allergies. She simply suggested it would be best to always come right when they open so there’s less chance of cross-contamination from other dishes.

Service: 5/5

Overall, the food would trick any non-vegan or vegetarian into thinking they were eating meat. It’s a unique way to make traditional Thai cuisine accessible to all.

Photos by Amanda Teixeira

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Yum or Yikes! Café In Vivo

Photo by Ashley Fish-Robertson

On a busy Monday evening, I happened to stumble across Café In Vivo in a mere twist of fate.

Strategically located in the Olympic Stadium, Café In Vivo is the perfect place to study or to simply wind down, with easy access to Pie-IX metro. Situated behind tinted grey glass walls, this charming café will take you by surprise. Their meals often include meat but they offer vegan and gluten-free options as well—there is essentially something for everyone.

If you don’t stay for the espresso, you’ll stay for the décor. The airy vibe and bubblegum-pink booths are ideal for those seeking an insta-worthy photo-op. Café In Vivo is the perfect low-profile spot for students, especially those looking for a quaint spot to focus. With plenty of comfortable seating and an abundance of natural light, this café appeals to those who seek tranquility amidst the bustle of the city.

Ambience: 4.5/5

While I’m not one for drinks that induce a sugar rush, their iced coffee manages to deliver just the right amount of sweet without sending you into a sugar overload. The espresso is inexplicably velvety and not too bitter; I have yet to find anywhere else in Montreal that serves espresso like this one. The only downside to their iced coffee (and several of their hot beverages) is that there is not much of a selection when it comes to the to-go cup sizes; it’s more of a one-size only. This might not seem like such a deal breaker to some, but after you’ve indulged yourself in their espresso, it’s nearly impossible to settle for the small cups they offer. I recommend ordering drinks in their mason jar cups, as you end up getting a bit more.

I also decided to try the special of the day: a hearty cassoulet with sausage and harvest veggies to soothe the winter chills. The hot meal portions are very generous and they include a fresh bun on the side. The assortment of sweet and salty goods are baked fresh daily.

Food and drinks: 4/5

Be prepared to spend around $15 for their main hot dish of the day with a drink of choice. The portions are plentiful, so come prepared to eat. Their sandwich, salad and bakery options range between $2 to $9 if you’re craving a smaller bite. Their beverages are priced averagely, ranging from around $3 to $5.

Price: 3.5/5

A line can start to form quickly at lunch hour (as most places near the metro do) but come anytime before or after lunch and you’ll often be delighted with the quick service and selection of seating. The staff is friendly and well versed with the array of drink and food options—so don’t be afraid to ask for recommendations.

Service: 4/5

Photo by Ashley Fish-Robertson

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Yum or Yikes: Kinton Ramen

Photo by Cecilia Piga

A new classic Japanese-style ramen restaurant has recently opened its doors in the West Island of Montreal.

Kinton Ramen is an authentic Japanese ramen bar chain, with multiple downtown locations as well as in Toronto and the United States. Their first location in the West Island is located on the corner of St-Jean’s and Brunswick Blvds., a short walk away from Fairview Shopping Centre.

You can choose to sit at larger tables where you may end up sitting next to strangers, or at the bar that faces the kitchen area where you can see the chefs preparing your food. The furniture and fixtures of the restaurant are all made of a light-coloured wood and dark (almost black) metal trimmings/accents. This restaurant design can be seen across all locations, and solidifies its branding.

Ambience: 4.5/5

The main type of food offered is, of course, ramen. There are different options as you can choose the type of broth you want (pork, chicken or miso for a vegetarian option). The noodles are also customizable: you can choose between a thin, thick or gluten-free/low-calorie noodle style. Kinton’s side dishes are also traditionally Japanese––steamed and salted edamame beans, Japanese fried chicken, rice bowls, fried octopus, etc. If you can handle the heat, I recommend getting the spicy garlic pork ramen (amazing, but very spicy). If you want something without spice, try the chicken miso ramen with thick noodles and a side of steamed edamame beans.

Food: 4.5/5

I find that there is a standard price range for this type of ramen in Montreal, and Kinton is no exception to this rule. Expect to spend around $14 per bowl, which can seem pricey as ramen is a pretty simple food. However, they are quite large portions, so you will not be leaving hungry. That being said, I would consider this more of a treat rather than a quick and cheap meal.

Price: 3/5

The service Kinton gets a 5/5 from me as I was truly happy with the entire  experience. From the time I walked in the door until I left the restaurant, I was taken care of. As this is a new restaurant to the West Island, it was fairly busy and did have a slight waiting time. However, the staff moved very quickly and ensured that we did not wait too long. There were no problems with our orders and the staff was extremely friendly.

Service: 5/5

Photo by Cecilia Piga

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