Café Culture - February 10/06
artsnob tip #2: FIND SMART FRIENDS
The brilliant 20th century lyricist Vanilla Ice once advised us all to “stop, collaborate and listen”; wise words from a wise man, and an adage perfectly suited to the manifesto of the art snob. If there is any hope for the development of an artistic and cultural community in Waterloo, then there has to be a sense of…well…community.
Step one: ditch every one of your friends who doesn’t like to read, thinks Green Day “pushes the boundaries of modern music”, and believes that movies with subtitles are “gay, guy”. Well, you don’t have to go as far as ditching them, but it might help to ignore them a little bit. You, young and hopeful art snob, have to find some like minds.
Intellectual interaction is absolutely essential for the growth of ideas. Take, for example, the salons of 18th century Europe. These gatherings of writers, artists, ‘philosophes’ and great minds, uninhibited by class, gender or race, were a main force behind the Enlightenment that revolutionized Western history. The only requirement for entrance to the salon was that you had an idea, and were willing to express it. These people knew how to combine ‘entertainment and education’, just like the Discovery Channel.
So where are all the salons in Waterloo? Well there aren’t any, really. But there could be. The city is surprisingly well suited for them, and there are a couple places in particular that the aspiring art snob may want to consider frequenting.
The atmosphere of Café 1842, a small corner shop on King St. at the Heuther Hotel, seems to invoke the same sense of intellectual energy associated with the salons. With its red brick walls and old bookshelves, it seems to be a sort of elitist recluse (despite the fact that its located on the city’s main street). It recalls, perhaps, the “Chestnut Tree Café” from Orwell’s 1984; the haunt of painters, musicians, and opponents of Big Brother, a place of ideas in a world that condemned independent thought. Café 1842 is not nearly as dank and depressing as Orwell’s world, but it has the same sense of being separate, non-commercial, open to any and all ideas. Indeed, many of Waterloo’s “intellectual elite” are known to gather there; it is the preferred hang-out, for instance, of the Perimeter Institute’s physicist poster boy Antony Valentini (I don’t know if he’s really their poster boy, but he does have long curly hair which is always a sign of intelligence). The Artsnob recommends that you visit, purchase a latté, find some stylish, smart-looking people, and discuss something other than the hockey game: perhaps plot a proletarian revolution, if you feel it appropriate (which I assure you, it is).
On the other side of the street is another potentially salon-ish cafe, the Symposium, located on King between Dupont and Erb. Perhaps more aligned with Ancient Greek values (as suggested by its name), Symposium offers a stimulus to thought not as prominent at Café 1842: alcohol. In Ancient Greece, the symposium was a gathering of men who would basically get drunk, give their bloated opinions on metaphysics and the world, and then pass out to some epic poetry. Plato records Socrates attending such events, and no doubt they were important venues for intellectual interchange in the Classical age. The Symposium Café emphasizes the same kind of commitment to thought, as suggested by the massive reproduction of Raphael’s School of Athens plastered on the walls. This fresco, portraying Plato, Aristotle and other great figures of Western thought, looms over the visiting art snob, daring him or her to match the intellectual prowess of its subjects. The dim candlelight and comfortable couches provide a wonderful environment to engage in drunken philosophizing, just like those noble Greeks, and because it is open late, it’s the perfect venue to meet at after watching one of those subtitled films at the Princess.
Waterloo, then, has the foundations in place for the growth of an intellectual community. It is possible, o cynical students, to be entertained and educated, one just needs a place to go. The aspiring art snob must realize the value of these café institutions, and perhaps then the spirit of the salon can carry on in our humble town.
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