Posts By: Karl Low

Darjeeling Jones

Darjeeling is a teacher, writer, and amateur drycleaner. Fetishes include ’70s funk, Stanley Kubrick, Korean barbecue, and cream-filled donuts.

Porkpie Hat—The Finest Art

I was recently sitting in the serene darkness of the Winnipeg Centennial Concert Hall, watching and listening to Daniel Raiskin, the WSO’s new music director, conducting Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 1.  As a first impression, Raiskin seems brilliant, a maestro of the classic Russian style, dramatic, bold, firmly in control of and in sync with… Read more »

Porkpie Hat—Into the Woods

One of humanity’s most primal and enduring symbols is that of the forest.  Reaching back into some of our earliest folktales, it has represented our often-uneasy relationship with the world; a largely uncharted domain of shifting shadows and potential dangers.  Always, we are pulled from the safety of the known—the warm circle of family, the… Read more »

Porkpie Hat—Drifting on the Ocean’s Edge

A few years ago, I found myself walking along an empty beach on a remote stretch of the northern coast of British Columbia.  The snow-capped peaks of Alaskan mountains seemed just a pebble’s throw away.  To the west was the dim, spectral blue-grey haze of the Haida Gwaii islands.  Beyond that, only Japan. But I… Read more »

The Porkpie Hat—Cracked Wide Open

“Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I’ve decided, is only a slow sewing shut.” Jodi Picoult There is a place on the borderlands of our consciousness, where the great beasts of human inventiveness—human potential—frolic and prowl.  It is the realm where art and science, left brain attention to detail and… Read more »

Porkpie Hat—All Who Wander are not Lost

To put it kindly, my years of formal education were a mess.  In elementary school, I was “The Little Engine That Couldn’t,” trying to haul freight cars filled with thunderstorms and shadows along torn-up rails, over jagged, bleak mountain passes. Predictably, my high school years were a battleground.  I was forever behind enemy lines, learning… Read more »