It’s ODD-awa!

We just stared at the whimsical absurdity.

In an obscure courtyard of Ottawa’s ByWard Market, a big statue depicted two blue men wearing shirts and ties while facing each other, connected by a long stick that formed their noses — standing on two blue sheep. Liars leading the sheep? With this teaser, we wondered if downtown Ottawa conceals a weird side, other than the House of Commons.

On a subsequent visit this spring, we looked closer for our capital’s offbeat public art. Fun!

Monuments galore

Ottawa’s myriad monuments tend to staidly recognize monarchs, politicians, explorers and the military, including the National War Memorial. In Minto Park, we even found a bust of an Argentine general. But locals get recognized, too. Stacked up like an aluminum totem pole, discover the nearby moulded faces of seven local residents. (They wanted to leave a good impression.)

Solemn installations also honour the women who championed women’s rights — two enjoying tea. This year a substantial LGBTTQ+ national monument will be inaugurated. Called Thunderhead, it was designed by creative Winnipeggers, including Shawna Dempsey and Lori Millan.

We also found a bronze Oscar Peterson, plus Terry Fox with petals placed in his hand by admirers. Find Terry on Sparks Street where I saw folks taking smoke breaks.

I told Margie, “That explains the street’s name.”

As for Ottawa’s weird side, also on Sparks Street, a six-metre-high aluminum colander with wide slats welcomes passersby to step inside. But this isn’t an overdue artistic tribute to kitchen utensils. It celebrates the original Stanley Cup. Near here, Gov. Gen. Lord Stanley of Preston announced his gift of a hockey trophy. We might have guessed the monument’s meaning if we’d realized we sat on an adjoining oversized puck.

Metres away, four bony, naked copper people leap up. The creation is called Joy. Further, and oddly sculpted by the same artist, Bruce Garner, a ferocious bronze grizzly bear gobbles a salmon. Garner more cryptically calls this statue Territorial Prerogative. On Kent Street, we find a giant silver teapot — strangely outside a pub. It’s called Northshore. Ottawa’s statues attract curious names.

In Jeanne D’Arc Courtyard, a stylized bronze polar bear is, yes, dancing. Created by Baffin Islander Pauta Saila, this playful masterpiece elicits wide smiles. Eliciting winces at a Murray Street parkade, homely bronze cats cling to sills. They’re sill-y.

Other area monuments defy description except to say they are apparently hugely significant balls, walls, squares, circles and sticks. My favourite ball and wall here form the Royal Canadian Navy Monument. But we pondered how a gold ball and slanted white wall symbolize navy life. The best we could imagine: they represent the sun and a sail. Others say they symbolize the navy’s global reach and an iceberg.

My favourite stick is a branchless, stainless-steel tree called One Hundred Foot Line, behind the National Gallery of Canada. The crooked trunk soars up seemingly into the clouds. Folks muse wildly about its meaning. I, instead, offer two tips: in a lightning storm, don’t hug it. In winter — enticing as it is — don’t lick it. I, for one, stopped doing that sort of thing years ago and am rarely tempted, even now.

Arachnaphobia at the National Gallery

Also behind the National Gallery, 10 tangled lamp posts that survived Hurricane Katrina are inventively rearranged. It’s called Majestic. And outside the gallery entrance, a creature adorns the wide plaza. You think: “It’s our national animal, the beaver! Maybe a moose? The loon?”

Nope. It’s a nine-metre-tall, egg-bearing black spider. This nightmarish monster by Louise Bourgeois is similarly featured at many other world art galleries. A friend insists, “It’s beautiful!”

The gallery explains that Maman, as the arachnid is named, “… stands as a nurturing and protective symbol of fertility, shelter and the home. With its potentially terrifying scale, however, the sculpture also incites a mixture of fear and curiosity.” The gallery boutique touts Maman coasters, postcards, magnets, mugs, mousepads, T-shirts in five colours, plus socks.

Nearby, there’s Twist 1.5 – what its carvers describe as “a wooden, spiral, wind-vane thing.” Another thing comprises the U.S. Embassy’s Conjunction. Eight cantilevered bronze beams symbolize the U.S. and Canada’s close relationship. We noticed how erratically the beams go off in all directions. Margie said, “That’s the silliest thing ever.”

I’m glad because, until then, the silliest was a home-improvement idea of mine. More insightfully, our daughter exclaimed, “It’s a stylized middle finger!”

Truth, justice and the Canadiens, eh

The Supreme Court of Canada features two commanding figures representing truth and justice. Oddly, Veritas and Ivstitia were stored and forgotten for 50 years. Next door, we discovered two new towering convex mirrors to reflect the skyline — and to confuse birds and senators.

But we couldn’t again find the blue men on the sheep. Called Our Shepherds, or Nos Bergers, creator Patrick Bérubé reports “Nos Bergers has unfortunately been uninstalled.” He cites the end of a funding program but assures that the enigma is safely stored. Count on seeing it again in 50 years.

We debriefed in a crowded lounge in front of a Stanley Cup playoff game on TV. Despite no interest from patrons, I cheered for Montreal. I whooped. I shouted advice. Margie whispered, “Gord, why are you cheering for an old game? It’s a replay.”

I asserted, “It certainly is not! Look! Go Habs!”

When Montreal scored, I leapt up — like the Joy monument. Patrons just sat, uninterested. I beseeched, “What’s wrong with these people?” Margie replied, “See, a new game is starting now with Montreal. I’m so embarrassed.”

I implore readers to look for more oddities in Ottawa — other than numbskulls rooting at reruns.