A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Pressing My Buttons at the Emily Carr End-of-Year Show
Saturday, May 06, 2017

Ron Burnett


In my many years of rejecting any idea that I may be an artist I have at the very least gained an education in the arts thanks to an Argentine painter, Juan Manuel Sánchez who in his ten year stay in Vancouver taught me about art in his gentle way. If anything he might have persuaded me to think (sometimes) that I am an artist. The second contribution to my art education has been my daily delivered NY Times for 18 years and especially its Arts II section on Fridays which is all about the visual arts.

This past Thursday evening I attended the huge (and huge it is) end-of-year show at the Emily Carr University of Art + Design on Granville Island. This is the last show on the island before it moves into its huge building on Great Northern Way. The building as it stands now reminds me that it could be a 21st century version of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s gigantic Palace of the Parliament in Bucharest.  The only building close to that, in our 20 the century Vancouver, may be our main post office on West Georgia.

Perhaps judging by the size of Thursday night’s opening is the fact that the present building may indeed be too small. But I have heard that classrooms and studios in the new building are not all that large. We shall have to see.

It may be that the university’s president Ron Burnett, a forward looking kind of a man knows where the future is headed.

As for me at age 74 I am beginning to repeat and think about my former friend Abraham Rogatnick (a lover and patron of the university) statement, “I am not long for this world.”

The show features lots of stuff that is interactive. One has to look into screens, listen and press buttons. This confirmed to me that my hard copy NY Times’ inability to contain hyperlinks is why I may not have suspected the trend in the arts as I saw at Emily Carr. That kind of art can only be understood and or appreciated in anything that may contain 1s and 0s.

My friend the effusively direct Ian Bateson (a former designer and illustrator of note [is design as we know dead?] ) talked to many third year students who instantly punched their cell phones to find out exactly who Shadbolt was. On the other hand I ran into on David Heffel and I was completely delighted at his smiles and his delight at what he was seeing. For that other gallery man, Andy Sylvester (through the years I have been introduced to him by the likes of Arthur Erickson, Abraham Rogatnick and others) I have always been an un-bandaged H.G. Well's man.


Helen Yagi, David Heffel, Ona Grauer & Tiko Kerr

Most important for those graduating design students looking for a job I can happily report here that I saw many of Vancouver's graphic design millieu, most of them with smiles on their faces. One of them was the noted designer Barry Marshall. He was wearing a colourful shirt with countless butterflies that he said was based on Shadbolt. Looking at the butterflies I thought of this:



“When we define the Photograph as a motionless image, this does not mean only that the figures it represents do not move; it means that they do not (i)emerge(i), do not (i)leave(i): they are anesthetized and fastened down, like butterflies.”
Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography


The show overwhelmed me in its size and I almost can say that I felt alienated by the quantity.
There is one little spot in the industrial design section (I did not do my homework so I did not pick up the artist’s name) that featured a table and bench of wood that had extremely heavy cast cement tops. They were made to look like an Ikea piece of furniture complete with an Ikea-like catalogue. I smiled and smiled. But I wonder if this was a dead serious display or a tongue-and-cheek.

I did know one of the artists and this was Glenda Bartosh whose display on the wall involved an elaborate explanation. And yet as I studied engineering in the early 60s and had a wonderful professor who taught us quantum mechanics, the theory of relativity with a sampling of particle physics I felt quite at home with this piece of art that was certainly not dead serious but a whimsical example of tongue-and-cheek.


Glenda Bartosh

All in all I believe that as I write this (Friday morning) I am beginning to have a good time looking back at yesterday’s evening and I must wish Ron Burnett, his staff and his students the best for next year.

As I gaze at my static photographs on the walls of my oficina I think of my friend Abraham Rogatnick.

For anybody who might be wondering how I made the photograph or Ron Burnet here it:

1.Portrait of Burnett in his office.
2. 8x10 print from my darkroom
3. I propped up the picture on a chair in my garden.
4. I placed one of my cameras, I believe a black Pentax MX on a tripod.
5. I opened the back and had the shutter open on bulb.
6. I focused on Barthes' book Camera Lucida
7. I coppied the setup with my Mamiya RB 67.



Sunshine at Wreck
Friday, May 05, 2017






I am writing this on a cool and rainy May 3, 2017. Even one day of semi-sun during a rainy week is not enough to take away that melancholy that consumes me on cloudy days.

Our perennials are not as affected by rainy day melancholy in the spring. My shade tolerant hostas (never use the incorrect term “shade loving”) are doing just fine. In the first weeks of May as they unfurl their leaves one cannot but notice their fresh pristine beauty that may suggest that Roman concept of the  Vestal Virgins the priestesses of the Roman goddess of the hearth Vesta.
By the end of May my 27 roses need sun.

While experiencing this melancholy of no sun I perused my old negatives of my times in the late 70s at Wreck Beach. My Rosemary never quite understood my obsession in going there an exposing my nude body to sun. In fact I read quite a lot there and made some very good friends. It was in Wreck Beach where I first had contact with cartoonist/animator Marv Newland and free-lance writer Daniel Wood.

Hosta 'Party Favor' May 3 2017
The many beautiful women I met there all gladly posed for my camera, perhaps understanding, how inept I was at it. Thanks to them I learned lots.
One friend, a lead singer of a lovely Vancouver pop band suggested I try some of his excellent hash. I did and then found myself incapable of any movement. Worse still, in my attempts to say anything, all that came out from my semi paralyzed lips was a stutter. That was my first and last time in smoking any kind of weed that was not tobacco. And tobacco I last smoked (a pipe) some 20 years ago.


Hosta 'PlatinumTiara' May 3 2017

Those sunny and lazy days at Wreck Beach gave me plenty of time to reflect on my life as a married man with two daughters. It gave me the opportunity to think out my ever increasing assignments for magazines. Illustrating an article with a photograph or photograph (in some cases before the article is written is one of the most satisfying of pleasures. It is one that I miss now that I am obsolete – redundant & retired. I would even go as far as stating that thanks to Wreck Beach I became a good photographer of illustration.

Now in 2017 I have no desire to sun myself except on some holiday where I would probably want to escape the sun I a museum. Now in 2017 I have come to appreciate the undraped female not on a sandy beach (where I learned the craft) but in my smallish studio with its reduced options. In the studio my approach has to be one that is not of those Roman vestal  virgins but more on the Greek and thus Platonic concept of the essence – the essence that makes a woman be that.



Here are pictures of the laid back and delightfully beautiful Lorien. She was my friend and I learned a lot from her. I remember with some element of distaste and disapproval that the former Playboy scout (those who know who he was will know his name, I will not name him here) had to adhere to the then (and now?) standards of female beauty. He would parade naked (I gave him that) while wearing shoes and socks and with a Hasselblad around his neck. He would then pick possible Playboy beauties (who often had a little dog) and approach them and ask them about their cute dogs. Lorien did not fit the mold. Her lovely breasts had only a vestige of nipples and the breasts themselves flopped a tad. He would say hi to her but keep on in his search.

Hosta 'Liberty' May 3 2017
To me it is interesting to note that the two colour photographs here of Lorien are in decided out of focus. I cannot here give the excuse that I was stoned. I wasn’t. Those two pictures were just poorly focused.

Hosta 'June' May 3 2017

Hosta 'Grand Tiara' May 3 2017



A Macaroni Penguin - La Merda Kicks Butt
Thursday, May 04, 2017



Cristian Ceresoli &  Silvia Gallerano at the Cultch , May 3 2017

"Stop being such a God-damned sissy! Why can't you stand up before fine strong music like this and use your ears like a man?"
- At a 1931 concert of Charles Ives's and Ruggles's music, a man booed during  Ruggles's Men and Mountains.

For those expecting a quick review of May 2nd's opening La Merde at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre you will have to be a tad patient and read on.


Every once in a while when I am in the doldrums I take out my Charles Ives records and play them. They almost sound normal perhaps because of numerous playings through the years.

At my age 74 it is very comfortable to read my beloved mystery writers like Andrea Camilleri, Donna Leon, or the-easy-now-after-repeated readings of the poems of Emily Dickinson. I can say the same about the stories and poems of Jorge Luís Borges.

But knowing I am in this easy doldrums I have been tackling the more difficult Julio Cortázar.

Also at my age it is comfortable to stay home and watch Rachel Maddow on MSNBC with my Rosemary while eating healthy food that I have prepared for the both of us. It is as pleasant as waking up on our Stickley bed and bringing up our breakfast tray with our NY Times and Vancouver Sun. This easy routine is that, easy, and it feels good. But at the same time I know there is more to this as Peggy Lee put it, “Is this all there is?”

I have written often how those who go to the Vancouver Symphony programs usually avoid the more avant-garde Turning Point Ensemble or the paradoxical experience of witnessing Early Music Vancouver celebrations of the “new music” of 17th century composers.

I have written how those who go to Ballet BC will not also attend Contact Improvisational Dance at the Western Front or try the many very good modern dance companies of our city.

There is a lot of edgy stuff in our city by the edge of the sea that is not reported by our fading mainstream media.

When Paul Grant the stellar CBC arts reporter for CBC Radio retired a few years ago his position was not filled. There is hole in that radio station where culture should be flourishing.

But there are a few bastions in this city of ours of stuff the push thee boundaries of the expected, the comfortable, the usual and somehow lure us out of that everyday comfort.

One such bastion is the Turning Point Ensemble which is made up of musicians (well known ones) who as part of other musical orchestras have gotten bored with the daily faire.

Another is our East Vancouver Cultural Centre or the Cultch as it is affectionately called.

For many years as I have noted here, the Cultch made it de rigueur to offer one performance work per year that had complete nudity. In our formerly Scottish Presbyterian influenced city this was verboten. But slowly and surely the Cultch prevailed and nudity was no longer seen as something to harp about.

The Cultch - How to be Edgy

It was a combination of complete nudity, some shouting, various references to fellatio (look it up) and a good deal of scatological language that may have offended or shocked the audience at last night’s full (perhaps over-sold performance) of Cristian Ceresoli’s La Merde performed by Silvia Gallerano in pretty good English.

My Rosemary was serious but I was laughing. Perhaps this is because for close to 8 years in my boyhood Buenos Aires our neighbours were  Italians from Calabria who always dined on their patio. They had fights and it seemed that whispering anything was out of the question. They were plain noisy. The patriarch of the family was the neighbourhood barber. He would cut my hair while discussing that weekends football games. He would gesticulate to the point I thought he might slice off portions of my face! His son, Miguelito was one of my two best friends as was Jewish Mario.

Gesticularion, shouting, passion, not keeping it inside is a trait that all Argentines (and I am a former one) share with Italians. We are warm and express ourselves readily. Gallerano's repeated foul language could never have offended my ear. In Spanish and Italian (most similar in how they and we swear) there is a more varied and truly edgy offensive language of the insult. The premier one in my Argentine Spanish (which I will not translate is aggresive and all about motherly suggestions):

¡Vete a coger a la puta madre que the parió!

Not long after we arrived in Vancouver in 1975 we were invited for after-dinner-drinks. Even my staunchly Canadian wife (New Dublin, Ontario) did not know what that was. I still feel alienated in this rainy, gray Vancouver so full of people who do not gesticulate!

So it was that last night I felt much at home as Silvia Gallerano (she is surprisingly short but her thighs are not big, and you must see La Merde to understand what I mean!) performed with microphone in hand on a tall platform while not wearing a stitch except for perhaps a couple of rubber bands for her two very cute buns on top of her head.

To fully understand La Merda one has to know a bit about the political chaos of Italy that has been its tragedy since its inception as a country in the 19th century. The only big and less dangerous difference between the not-yet-forgotten Silvio Berlusconi and the US’s President Trump is that Berlusconi never had a nuclear red button to press. But corruption and patronage (read any of the books by Michael Dibdin) that feature Aurelio Zen, a Venetian cop or Andrea Camilleri’s Sicilian cop,Salvo Montalbano) to understand what all that shit that Silvia Gallerano was talking and shouting about.

Particularly prescient was the big theme of La Merda on what a woman has to do in order to “make it” in the world of men. Between Trump’s groping and what is still ailing Fox News, and not to mention our very own Jian Ghomeshi what we heard from Gallerano. was an uncomfortable truth of society I our 21st century.

One the one hour show was finished the silence in the room was palpable. People might have been shocked. But I insist in recording here that thanks to the Cultch and to whoever selects the stuff that is offered, we in this Vancouver of complacency need to be kicked in the butt.

Last night Silvia Gallerano did a lot of that.



The Cultch  A Bastion of Edgy Culture 

Addendum: It was pleasant after all the shock of that intense performance to meet (very short) Silvia Gallerano and her partner the writer of the work, Cristian Ceresoli. They were (I thought) uncharacteristically soft-spoken as we conversed in their very good Spanish. But there is one statement by Gallerano that troubled me when I pointed out that few in the audience may have known of all the travails of her country. She said,"Many in my own country have forgotten." It would seem that the pair will have to keep performing the play (as they have in several languages all over the world) to keep the world, the forgetful world, on it toes.





Single Entendre
Wednesday, May 03, 2017






I would like to set things straight before I proceed. I have never been a communist nor have I ever even agreed with any of its dictums. I am a liberal and very definitely to the left of centre.
But this does not mean that I do not listen to or read or admire conservatives of note. Two I admired and had the luck to photograph were William F. Buckley and William Safire. I have also read and l liked the way George Will writes.

I also loved the sense of humour of Republican Senate Minority Leader Everett Dirksen (Illinois) during the 60s. I am sure he did not have a speech writer.

Today in my NY Times I noticed (ever more as I am beginning to like The Times Insider on Page 2) an essay about William Safire by David W. Dunlap called Paid Manipulator’ in 1973, Pulitzer Prize Winner in 1978. Read it here

The Times Insider as the name suggests is all about the lesser known stuff that happens inside the newsroom of a very good newspaper.

With the polarization in Canada, the United States and in Argentina where in all cases one side wants to see the other side fail I appreciate the pragmatism that Buckley and Safire projected in their essays (and books) with a vivid and intelligent use of the English language, something that is sadly missing these days.

I must also add that my interest in the the English language, its words and even their relationship to my native Spanish are all due to years of reading Safire’s On Language.

Before Safire stopped writing for the NY Times his column had guests writers. Few would know (I know!) that Vancouver’s  Taras Grescoe wrote one! Here it is.




     

Previous Posts
A Rose in Decline & Memories Past

The Last Rose of Summer Revisited

The Last Rose of Summer

The Messiah - A Roasted Chestnut to Perfection

Bowering, Baseball & Burlesque

L'Orfeo & Two 6ft 2in Theorbos

Resonance

Stylus Fantasticus & The Gambist

The White House Novels

Zorro Sent Me



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10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17