“I’m tired like November,” writes Olivier Lussier in his excellent collection Cariacou: Hunting manual for poets.
I find the image powerful. November is the month of all weariness. It’s the end of party, heavy shoulders, heart and feet in an unclear fleet. I feel the weight of it every year. Except that there, it might be different…
I recently met an artist-researcher at a friends’ party. Marie-Hélène Roch is doing a doctorate in arts studies and practice at UQAM. His project is called Winter in us. For almost a decade, she has been trying to understand the individual experiences that winter brings us. It combines the concepts of climate resilience, environmental psychology and territorial identity to imagine new ways of living this season, in an urban environment.
I called her to see if she could help me revisit November, for a start…
She welcomed my disenchantment with the cursed month with understanding: “It’s the month between seasons where there are lots of physical transitions: light, temperature, nature, whose representations confront us… We can finding bare trees sad, for example. But for me, there is great beauty in it! These trees have already been preparing for this transition for months. »
A capacity from which we could draw inspiration, according to the member of the International Research Laboratory on the Imagination of the North, Winter and the Arctic.
“In November, people are confronted with a form of interiority. It’s the return to oneself – whether it’s home or oneself. Could we take advantage of this to invest in preparation that would go beyond the technical transition, such as changing tires and clothes in our wardrobes? We, how do we prepare? »
PHOTO SOPHIE BERTRAND, TAKEN FROM THE WINTER IN US INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT
Soon, the elements will come and play tricks on us and we may have the reflex to want to fight them.
Marie-Hélène Roch would like us to take advantage of this month to ask ourselves a question: “How do I want to get through this winter?” »
Soon, the elements will come and play tricks on us and we may have the reflex to want to fight them.
We are efficient; we want to keep the same pace all year round… But what if we instead accepted the slowdown imposed by winter?
“This could be reflected in the work schedule, the level of tasks, the expected productivity, the opening hours of certain businesses or even the way we design our facilities,” suggests Marie-Hélène Roch… A parking space can become a mountain of snow and, by the way, a second home for the families of a neighborhood. »
Developments aimed at making winter cycling easier in Montreal are another good example of initiatives that can transform our relationship with urban northernity. Just like the white streets, where there are ice rinks, slides and meetings between neighbors…
It is possible to change our paradigms.
Snow can be a gift, although we often perceive it as a waste that must be disposed of. “We have come to domestication! insists Marie-Hélène Roch. However, when snow settles on an area, it unifies it. It forms a kind of neutrality and democratizes our social relations. Faced with snow, we all come back to the same level. Afterwards, we prioritize snow removal between car lanes, sidewalks and cycle paths… But who does it? And to respond to what demand? »
PHOTO SOPHIE BERTRAND, TAKEN FROM THE WINTER IN US INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT
Snow can be a gift, although we often perceive it as a waste that must be disposed of.
The researcher hopes that the issue of snow removal will eventually be taken up by citizens as much as engineers: “Artists who think about snow removal, that’s what I want! »
Even more, she would like us to think about winter all year round.
We embrace denial from May to November, but if we thought about our Nordic identity in August (with our light mood, our optimism and our BBQ), could we find different ways to design our homes, to imagine our schools or explore our state as urban islanders in the middle of winter?
Go further :
Could being Nordic influence the way we perceive the climate crisis and ensure a more sustainable future for all?
Marie-Hélène Roch, artist-researcher and initiator of the project Winter in us
Let’s think about our ice rinks. Last year, the days when it was possible to take advantage of a non-refrigerated outdoor public installation were particularly rare…
“When you realize that your children’s children will perhaps never experience skating on an icy pond, it touches a sensitivity,” emphasizes the mother. I’m not a hockey fanatic, but in our collective imaginations, we don’t think it could disappear! »
We would perhaps benefit from seeing our winters as a series of sweet possibilities rather than a series of legs… To cultivate the wonder that accompanies the first snowstorm. It’s the only morning of the year I allow myself to start work late. I walk to the nearest snack bar, greeting people who are shoveling snow from their cars, then I order myself two eggs and bacon. I savor this stopping of time from which no one escapes.
“We know how to capture this moment and its magical effect,” agrees Marie-Hélène Roch. With the environmental crisis, perhaps this notion of ephemerality will be amplified…”
So it’s decided: next winter, I want to feel the magnitude of my luck.
(Well done November, you will have finally been useful for something.)