HOMME MADE - DUNDEE LAW
Virgil Abloh and Dennis Edney lived in different worlds, yet both carried the same conviction: that what we believe must be lived, not hidden. Virgil used fashion to open doors that had been closed for generations, showing that creativity is a public right and that visibility matters. Dennis used the law to defend those the world tried to forget, proving that justice is a daily act of courage, not an institution. One reshaped culture, the other protected conscience, and both expanded what freedom can look like when someone refuses to stand down. When seven painters gathered in Edmonton during Black History Month to create Homme Made–Dundee Law, the canvas naturally echoed their legacies. It became a shared act of belief — different hands, different histories, one commitment to making something together. The painting stands as a reminder that we are all wearing the work of those who came before us, and that renewal begins when people choose to collaborate across difference. To honour Virgil and Dennis is to honour two forms of leadership that meet at the same point: the insistence that dignity, imagination, and courage belong to everyone. Their lives continue to move through us, urging us to build bridges, defend one another, and wear what we believe with clarity and purpose. 🍁US, Art Is Freedom, Continued...
We Wear What We Believe🐧Slide...
2016, Fire and Rain Art Project, 2026
The Selfish Pursuit of Artistic Truth
Skaters on Ice
Left Stage, Exit Right,
🐧Slide From ARTifICE...
2025 - Birds of a Feather art project -2026
Art Is Freedom
Richard Douglas Brinkman
XLife
Faith - Democracy - Nature
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Friends of Big Bear Valley
Jackie & Shadow
The Public Observatory: How Wildlife Cams Turn Nature Into Civic Ritual. In an age when public squares have thinned and institutions feel distant, a curious new gathering place has emerged: the wildlife livestream. The Friends of Big Bear Valley eagle cam is one of the clearest examples—a digital clearing where thousands assemble not for debate or spectacle, but to watch two birds named Jackie and Shadow rearrange sticks, brace against storms, and negotiate the quiet politics of a shared nest. What makes these streams civic isn’t just the audience size. It’s the collective posture they invite. People tune in with the same attentiveness once reserved for eclipses, parades, or the first snowfall of the year. The nest becomes a kind of public observatory, a place where strangers gather to witness something larger than themselves: the choreography of light and shadow across a living architecture. Jackie, with her bright, declarative presence, often stands in the open—an emblem of the seen world. Shadow, true to his name, shapes the scene by contrast, defining form through absence, contour, and negative space. Together they enact a natural chiaroscuro that feels almost civic in its rhythm: a reminder that public life is built not only on what we illuminate, but on what we allow to remain quiet, sheltered, or unseen. In this way, wildlife cams offer a rare kind of democratic intimacy. They ask nothing, sell nothing, demand no allegiance. They simply hold open a window where people can gather, observe, and—if only for a moment—experience the world as a shared inheritance rather than a contested territory. The nest becomes a commons. The camera becomes a civic instrument. And the watchers, scattered across continents, become a temporary public—bound not by ideology, but by attention. Watch & Listen.
As has been tradition since 2020, paint was added to Skaters on Ice today—January 1, 2026—in the eleventh hour beside the ice rink on the quiet back lawns of the Alberta Legislature. An eagle in flight was added backside, a small gesture of lift in a heavy season. Meanwhile, our home in the New Cambridge Lofts narrowly escaped bankruptcy in 2025, weighed down by mounting debt. It leaves me wondering whether 2026 will be the year we find ourselves without a place to live.
2017-2019, Trouble Maker The Coming Storm
On January 1st, 2026—right on schedule—the central heat in our downtown Edmonton building vanished during the coldest stretch of the year. Maybe it’s unpaid bills again, maybe another mechanical failure from aging infrastructure, or maybe it’s just the latest chapter in a long, slow squeeze by the real‑estate and developer gods, with big governments looking the other way as involuntary cryotherapy becomes part of life on land they quietly covet for future plans. Our homes stay barely tolerable as heat leaking from individual units warms the hallways, while our electrical bills spike in perfect harmony with the already‑high condo fees. A seasonal tradition, apparently. Down in the New Cambridge Lofts / Central LRT stairwell and the basement pedway, fresh graffiti and new vandalism bloomed overnight. They sit beside the City of Edmonton licenced, Alberta Government regulated liquor, cannabis, and tobacco shops that now function as an unofficial dormitory for the city’s most exhausted—and chemically ambitious—residents. By mid‑morning, the year’s first fire alarm, another gift from the vandalism gods, sent families shivering into the minus temperatures. A regularly occurring urban polar‑bear plunge nobody asked for. Meanwhile, I was performing my own annual ritual of civic optimism: adding paint, for the sixth consecutive New Year’s Day, to Skaters on Ice at the Alberta Legislature grounds. I worked inside a heated skate‑change room—a small miracle of public infrastructure that felt decadent compared to the chaos downtown. Outside, only one family ventured onto the snow‑laden rinks at City Hall and the Legislature. A family of four, sliding through a winter postcard snow, not not shoveled clear on New Year’s Day. 🐧Slide...
HOMME MADE DUNDEE LAW
