Media Rights. Who is going to broadcast the Brand New Shield?

OK, we are nowhere near that point yet and may never get to that point to be quite honest with you all. However, in the wake of Major League Baseball's new media rights deals, let's talk about how such deals would be important to theoretically launch the Brand New Shield.

The best place to start would be a brief history of media in sports. Originally, radio was king for live broadcasts. Local radio was the original lifeblood of sports media. Today, local radio still plays an integral part with both live broadcasts and shows where listeners can call in to talk about the current happenings with their local teams. In addition to local radio there is now satellite radio where the major sports leagues themselves each have nationwide channels people can listen to anywhere. While radio is still integral, it hasn't been the king in decades thanks to the advent of television. Originally, TV just had 3 broadcast networks and over time has grown where most TV packages have hundreds of channels. Cable TV and comparable (satellite, YouTube TV, etc...) subscriptions have a variety of sports channels that air everything from football to pickleball. In the current marketplace, you can even get specific apps on your Smart TV to watch what specific sports you want to watch.

Speaking of apps, apps have become a major part of media rights deals in sports recently. The NFL has exclusive games on Amazon Prime and Netflix. The NBA now has exclusive games on Peacock and Amazon Prime. The packages formerly known as MLB.tv and NHL Center Ice have now been folded into ESPN Unlimited. Streaming is becoming as integral as cable and comparable services in the sports media landscape. This needs to be capitalized on. There is an opportunity to be seized here that unfortunately no one has seized yet. Speaking of seizing said opportunities, what does someone look for in a media rights partner?

Every entity looking for a media rights partner really just wants a couple of things. First, they want a real partner that will help them grow their brand. You're going to want to have your league aired on a channel and/or app that most people have access to. I know this sounds obvious but I'm typing it out because it is a primary consideration for a media rights deal. Second, they're going to want a partner that is stable. Stability can mean a network or app that has been around for a while or it can mean something new that has proper backing to last for a while. Speaking of backing, next is money. Yes, profit does matter and if the deal is not going to help the bottom line, it's not really worth signing. Lastly is ownership of the channel/app. If the ownership can't be trusted, do you really want to go into business with that media rights partner? There are also some ethical questions as well in regards to some of these media conglomerates if we're being fair.

So, what would a media deal look like for the Brand New Shield? There is no way to predict the future but I do have a couple of ideas. One idea I previously discussed when I was doing SixOn6FB was to go the FAST (Free Ad-Supported Television) route. FAST services are on every Smart TV, so they provide a really wide reach. They are also free to consumers and are funded exclusively by advertising dollars, which helps create an easy entry point for fans to get on the consumption escalator. There is a question on whether the income portion of going with that model is sustainable, but I believe that is wholly dependent on the deal with the FAST providers (Pluto, Xumo, Roku Channel, etc..) themselves. Another possibility would be to go with a partner like TrillerTV. TrillerTV are live streaming experts and give people entities the ability to charge for subscriptions and to air pay-per-view events. What was once mainly a combat sports platform now airs all sorts of sports, including being the former home of the A7FL. TrillerTV is available on most streaming platforms so reach wouldn't necessarily be an issue, the issue would be getting people to download the app and pay for the subscription. There are other options such as creating an app, traditional media rights deals and using more well-known apps such as Amazon Prime. The issue with the traditional media rights deals and the use of apps like Amazon Prime is that they seem to be of the small fish in the big pond variety which is what plagued the Arena Football League at the end. I purposely did not mention YouTube because the financial model for YouTube is nowhere near as good as it used to be and you're likely going to get something sustainable going the FAST and/or TrillerTV routes. Really, a combination of the options I mentioned will likely be the best route to go if the Brand New Shield ever gets there truthfully.

Speaking of media, the Brand New Shield Podcast will be launching soon. The first major topic on the podcast will be sports betting although there will likely be some form of an introductory episode before that. Let's give Write.as some well-deserved credit for being a great platform to launch this blog on. The podcast details are being ironed out but I will have them soon. Until the next post and/or podcast episode, enjoy some football!

#haremhaohybrid

Minghao tidak menunduk ataupun mengalihkan pandangan. Sebaliknya, ia menatap bergantian satu persatu anggota klan karnivora di hadapannya perlahan-lahan, memetakan wajah mereka dalam ingatan. Sepertinya memang keberanian klan kelinci adalah sesuatu yang mendarah daging. Lima karnivora berbalutkan pakaian indah dari sutra mahal. Mereka tidak mengenakan kain warna mentereng ataupun hiasan yang tak perlu. Sederhana dari bahan berkualitas. Yang membedakan mereka dari tamu biasa adalah simbol klan masing-masing yang tersemat di kerah pakaian mereka.

“Senang sekali atas kehadiran kita semua di sini,” Kwon memulai, menjalankan tugasnya sebagai tuan rumah yang baik. “Malam ini adalah malam sepertiga rembulan. Malam yang tepat untuk mengenalkan anggota keluarga terbaru klan kami, adik dari suamiku, kelinci termuda, Xu Minghao.”

Tak ada anggukan, hanyalah tatap saling bersirobok antara sang kelinci dengan kelima lelaki itu. Tiada ciut. Tiada bimbang. Kekopongan? Mungkin sedikit. Sisanya adalah gurat halus kebencian dan rasa jijik. Para karnivora biadab yang telah mengoyak kebahagiaan kelinci-kelinci kecil naif yang hanya ingin hidup damai bertiga di pondok kecil mereka. Gurat yang, tentu, tertangkap oleh mata-mata jeli para karnivora.

“Kau seperti buku yang terbuka, Xu Minghao,” seseorang dari mereka angkat bicara, menekankan apa yang mereka semua telah ketahui. “Jika ingin menyelamatkan ekormu di dunia ini, sembunyikan rasa bencimu dari musuhmu, bukannya malah mengumbarnya seperti itu.” Kekehan, pelan menemani picingan mata di balik kacamata berbingkai bulat. Telinganya yang berbulu lembut mengacung agak tinggi di antara rimbun rambut yang berwarna kelam.

“Minghao, ini adalah Jeon Wonwoo dari klan rubah,” Kwon memotong untuk sekilas perkenalan. “Klan Jeon turun-temurun berkecimpung dalam bidang obat-obatan. Lalu, yang duduk di sebelahnya adalah Wen Junhui dari klan macan kumbang.”

“Hal yang perlu kamu ketahui dariku, Minghao, kalau lariku lebih cepat dari Soonie,” ringisan melebar—setengah pongah, setengah mengejek. Yang diejek mendecih. Ekornya menyapu lantai agak gelisah.

“Jangan menantangku, Jun-ah.”

“Menggertak, seperti biasanya.”

Seakan ada percik statis tercipta di antara tatapan mata keduanya. Dengan sebuah tepukan tangan kencang, Jisoo menengahi kedua karnivora tersebut. “Tolong jaga sikap Anda, Tuan Wen,” senyum sang kelinci manis, namun tutur katanya teramat dingin. “Anda berada di sini untuk adik saya, bukan untuk memancing murka suami saya.”

Menunduk, Jun mendengus, acuh tak acuh membuang muka. Jika Minghao tidak benar-benar memerhatikan, rona merah tipis yang membakar pipi Jun pasti akan dilewatkannya. Alis sang kelinci mengernyit, merasa aneh barang sejenak, walau ia mengabaikannya kemudian. Perkenalan pun berlanjut.

“Berikut adalah perwakilan dari klan beruang. Kim Mingyu, inginkah kau mengucapkan sepatah-dua patah kata?” sang kepala klan macan menyunggingkan senyuman ramah. Ia nampak memedulikan lelaki tersebut lebih daripada anggota klan lainnya, meskipun yang bersangkutan tetap diam dan hanya menggeleng. Ia memilih untuk memandangi Minghao dengan lekat, membuat sang kelinci merasa kurang nyaman.

“Bagaimana Anda bisa memenangkan hatinya jika hanya diam, Kim??” kekeh lelaki yang lebih muda di sebelahnya. “Lidah dan kata-kata adalah senjata paling berharga untuk mendapatkan apa yang kita inginkan.” Desisan, terdengar menetesi tiap celah keheningan dari lidah yang bercabang.

“Tentu kau juga sadar bahwa mulutmu adalah harimaumu, Chan?” sahut lelaki lain di sisi satunya. Ia melipat lengan di dada, tak terpukau oleh gertak sambal barusan.

“Ah, Anda terlalu memuji saya, Tuan Choi,” bukannya terpelatuk, lelaki itu justru menyeringai sambil menunduk sedikit dengan tangan di dada. “Setidaknya mulut saya lebih beradab daripada kebiasaan main tangan Anda, bukan?” Lelaki yang dipanggil Tuan Choi bergerak, seolah akan beranjak dari duduk untuk menarik kerah pakaiannya dan membuat kerusuhan, namun lagi-lagi mereka ditengahi.

“Lee! Choi! Sudah cukup!” gelegar membahana keluar dari mulut Kwon Soonyoung. Minghao agak terkejut. Ternyata si macan itu bisa berwibawa juga jika situasi mengharuskannya. Keterkejutan Minghao pun berlanjut saat Kwon malah menoleh ke arahnya. “Adik ipar, maafkan kelancangan mereka. Ini Lee Chan dari klan ular dan Choi Seungcheol dari klan serigala.”

Minghao seketika bungkam. Matanya membelalak.

Klan serigala.

Klan yang mengambil Jeonghan dengan paksa. Klan yang memenjaranya, membuatnya menghilang dari dunia dan menyisakan sehela nama. Klan yang membuat dirinya dan Jisoo hanya bisa merindukan saudara tertua mereka hari demi hari. Klan yang telah membuat Jeonghan menderita.

Saat Minghao menatap wajah Choi Seungcheol, sang serigala menemukan kebencian berapi-api dalam kilatan matanya. Wonwoo sungguhlah benar. Xu Minghao adalah buku yang terbuka. Setidaknya, kakaknya, Jisoo, menyembunyikan angkara murkanya di balik senyuman lembut. Rasa-rasanya, Seungcheol ingin tertawa.

“Lagi-lagi seekor kelinci tanpa tata krama,” decaknya, sengaja memanasi emosi Minghao. Duduknya agak merosot dan kedua kakinya melebar; bagai Tuan Raja di atas singgasana emasnya. “Kuperingatkan saja, Xu Minghao, sekali kau membuatku marah, akan kumakan kau.” Taring runcing dipampang. Telinga berbulu hitamnya berkedut memperingatkan. Geraman rendah datang dari pangkal tenggorokan. “Aku di sini bukan untuk berkasih-kasihan denganmu seperti permintaan kakakmu itu. Aku di sini untuk membawamu ke klanku dan membuatmu melahirkan bayi-bayi serigala tanpa henti.” Lalu, dengan nada pongah dan dongakan dagu, Choi Seungcheol menantang Xu Minghao tanpa tedeng aling-aling. “Sebagaimana kau seharusnya berada, Herbivora.”

“CHOI!”

“Hao, jangan dengarkan ucapannya,” sigap, Jisoo menarik Minghao ke sisinya, membawa kepala anak itu bersandar ke bahunya. “Ingatlah bahwa klan ini akan selalu melindungimu.” Lalu, ia melirik tajam pada Seungcheol. “Bahkan bila aku harus mencekik semua yang menyakitimu dalam tidurnya malam ini.”

Seungcheol menyeringai. Kwon memotong, “Sayang. Tenangkan dirimu. Tidak baik berkata buruk, bayinya bisa mendengar.” Minghao diam, memejamkan mata untuk menikmati elusan halus tangan Jisoo pada rambutnya. “Nah, Minghao. Aku mau kau mendengarkan ucapan kakakmu, meski tolong abaikan kalimatnya yang terakhir.” Sang macan sendiri sibuk mengelusi punggung Jisoo, mengetahui bagaimana seriusnya kelincinya itu akan ucapannya barusan. Kemudian, helaan napas yang berat pun terlepas. “Choi, kumohon kendalikan emosimu. Klan serigala adalah aliansi berharga klan kami sejak nenek moyang. Bukan hanya itu, klan Jeon dan klan Wen pun berpikiran sama.”

“Saya pun,” gumaman perlahan Kim mengagetkan Minghao.

“Klan beruang juga nampaknya berpikiran sama,” Kwon menambahkan. “Kami akan menyesal apabila harus mengusirmu dari pertemuan terakhir ini. Kau tentu tahu, kan, konsekuensinya?”

Maksudnya teramat jelas. Klan serigala tengah panik karena kelinci yang mereka kira akan melahirkan banyak generasi penerus malah sama sekali tidak disentuh oleh anak kedua sang tetua. Choi Seungcheol sebagai yang tertua harus menanggung beban untuk mendapatkan kelinci termuda dan memberikan penerus secepatnya. Jika tidak, kaum serigala terancam punah. Mendecih lagi, ia, tetapi kali ini diam seribu bahasa. Kwon telah menyentilnya tepat di urat Achillesnya. Sang macan pun menghela napas lagi.

“Adik ipar,” tanyanya lembut pada Minghao. “Adakah anggota klan kami yang ingin kau kenal lebih baik saat ini?”

So much for sleeping early. I called her briefly at 2 because I already was irresponsible and stayed up, and then I got carried away and here we are. This is my fault, not hers – but wow I’m stupid.

Kapitalist In C ; LeLoPo Mild

Daar drijft nog een teloorgegane kapitalist op de golven in zee hij is morsdood maar drijft daar natuurlijk niet meer mee hij had gehoord dat gouden bergen lagen in het ons omringende water de vruchtbaarste aller appelgaarden voor zijn lange of gelukkige later met deze info keek hij opeens met een set andere ogen naar dat sop sindsdien borrelden er vele grote en wilde ideeën op in zijn kop hij zag grote rivieren en diepe meren als de bron van zijn inkomen het managen van water werd de allerbeste van zijn vele rijke dromen hij keek met name anders dan anders naar de immer woelige zee dit werd op de tekentafel zijn wijk van koophuizen aan zee in spe

In zijn hoofd vormde de zee een vriendelijk klotsend goud reservoir een alsmaar rijkelijk vloeiend offer voor zijn zeer behoeftige altaar het was duidelijk dat de geld zee zijn kant op moest gaan stromen en deze water goud opslag zou hem daar zeker rijkelijk voor belonen hij vroeg gaten aan in alle dijken zodat het water hem kon bereiken de ambtenaren moesten zo'n geval altijd eerst even zo en zo bekijken maar als hun rekening werd gespekt verdwenen alle mogelijke bezwaren het opkomende voorval kan ik namelijk op geen andere wijze verklaren

De man kreeg toestemming om in dijken dikdoende deuren te zetten voor graven van geulen opdat niks zijn stroom het stromen kon beletten linea recta moest het vloeien naar al zijn geld als water opslag percelen wanden er omheen omdat je vanzelfsprekend rijkdom niet gaat delen zo werkt dat immers niet dan kun je net zo goed meteen stamppot eten rijkdom komt over je en dan wordt je er compleet vrijwillig door bezeten vooraf had hij alles op papier staan elke natte druppel in valuta omgezet overal altijd op alle mogelijke gevaren voor stelen en eerlijk delen gelet de zee kwam op, belde aan, de deuren gingen open en zo is het gegaan het land inclusief de manager kwam wederom onder het woelige water te staan

Einde

mirando los últimos destellos del atardecer pensó que disolvería este universo de temores y sin extenderse más creó un campo de tréboles

RobSTR is going on NOSTR – the uncensorable social network.

I am tired of the algorithms; tired of the tracking; tired of the lack of control.

I am taking control back. I can’t be stopped, except by NOSTR. It’s a quirky protocol, a little slow and awkward. But it seems solid and needs people using it to improve it and grow. I will do that.

Join me if you dare.

(AKA I need to to stop doom scrolling)

WARNING: I get a little vulnerable here in the beginning here. You have been warned.

I’m sure I’ve said something to this effect in the past, even on this very blog. But I think its time I start to re-evalutate my relationship with Tech and the Internet.

2025 has been rough for a few reasons. I can just gesture at “The Horrors” that’s been making me more anxious for months now, when hurt my back by, no joke, coughing funny, and then coughing too hard that hurt it again, fighting with my allergies, and work being… work.

During the summer and most of fall, I got super depressed there for a while. and during that time I was doing a lot of doomscrolling. At home, in public, and in worse in bed! This was especially bad on Youtube Shorts and on Bluesky. With YT Shorts I was mindlessly scrolling through videos for that dopamine hit, and Bluesky I was basically reposting ever anxiety that I was having.

It got so bad that I was laying in bed staring at my phone and saying to myself. “Oh god… I’m going to die with stupid black box in my hand and hardly achieve anything.”

What partially helped me out of this funk was playing DnD with some trusted friends, and help edit two videos for friends one you can watch here: The 5D Chess Experience

Once I had flexed my creativity a bit, I knew that if I wanted to maintain this I had to make a change with my relationship with tech, and what I think the next year’s yearly theme will be: The Year of Ritual or The Year of Touching Grass.

I think I will talk more on that in another post and a video I’ll… probably make at the end of the year. We’ll see. For now I just wanted to write down my thoughts on how I will focus my energy

Limiting time on Social Media (namely bluesky)

I made a post on Bluesky mentioning how I was going have a “Soft Break” from Social Media. I said soft break because I still wanted to repost my friend’s post, and when I finally post a video I wanted to post. This because there were different times this year I was falling for ragebait, getting into long arguments, and reposting WAY TOO MUCH. The latter being really bad during that depression period. If I wasn’t reposting memes, I was reposting outrage, the current news, hot takes. Not only does that make my page a mess, I was fucking miserable dude, and I don’t think those that followed me was much better.

I want to make something very clear. I think it’s valid to be outraged right now. I think it’s valid to be angry, and frustrated, and want things to get better. These are all natural ways to respond to all this. Because it’s all Bullshit. But at some point… you have to step away.

And that’s HARD for me. I’ve always struggled with letting go. But I have to accept I’m not going to change the world by typing on an endless feed of text posts. To put that kind of pressure is only causing more anguish.

The more frustrated I became, the more I would post. I looked deep inside myself and asked. “Am I really making any sort of impact by posting about this stuff?”

It would be one thing it I was volunteer for an organization or even had an audience I could sway, or mobilize with my words. And even then, there are much more productive ways to spend that time and promote change than being part of an online flood of text. The scope’s too big, the reach is too small, and chasing validation from users who might largely be bots. So much effort for little gains.

I’m still passionate about what I believe, and I’ll likely not shut up about caring about the rights of my fellow man, and I’ve invested so much time into electoral reform that I refuse to not still bring it up, but I need to redirect that energy to something that won’t completely drain me.

So I made the decided that I’m going to focus on supporting my friends and trying to take the joy for genuine joy. I can’t support every cause, and ONE MAN cannot change the world. But I can at least try to help my friends not feel as alone, and try to help them get through this time of fuckery.

Also “Joy as Resistance” is a much more helpful phrasing than “Don’t worry about the world, worry about [YOU]” Because it doesn’t dismiss the concerns of people raising them, but recognizes it. Because even if you’re in the thick of it, even you need to recharge if you are able to. Because you can not allow those who wist to do you harm to steal that joy away. Because that nihilism is a slow, and insidious killer that robs you of your energy.

Yes I wanted to write that last bit because “Don’t worry about the world, worry about [YOU]” bothers me to my core anytime I’ve my current anxiety about the world to my boomer parents. Sure this isn’t direct political action, but I’m not pretending that it is.

The Need to Get Over FOMO

Now despite what I just said about helping my friends there’s another side of the coin that I need to address… And that’s been hopping onto just about every discord call.

Listen I love my friends. Both in the flesh and in digital. in fact dare I say they’ve kept me sane for the past 5 years. But I’ve also realized that I can’t spend every day in a discord call and still get thing done

There’s reasons for this that I can psychoanalyze, I don’t want to be in the position where I say something along the lines of “I wished I spent more time with my friends and family.” and due to a personal experience I won’t get into, I get worried about what would happen if I gave hanging out a pass. I have tendency to want to spend as much time with friends and family despite being an introvert.

But also… I have video I want to make, and responsibilities I need to take care of. I think in need to remind myself that so long as I’m not constantly turning down my friends for discord calls, or meet ups with my local* friends, I’ll always have another chance to join in. Balance is sort of key here.

This is also ironic when I am writing this up after having lovely discord call with said friends lol.

*and by local I mean… Near the GTA haha.

Playlists on Youtube – To Combat Decisions Paralysis

There’s many things that I need to do with my relationship to YouTube as a source of entertainment. One of the main ones is making playlists of songs for when I’m doing chores or other work that requires low concentration. I have tendency to go to the music recommendations and get hit with decision paralysis and I find the YouTube mixes to be not great. I need less time trying to figure out what I want to listen to and more time doing what I need to do. The easiest way is for me to just make a big playlist of all the songs I would typically listen to, and then just shuffle when I need to.

Now another approach would be to go old school and rip all my music, and make a local playlist of songs on my phone and computers. Maybe even be a little extra and make a self-hosted streaming service for myself and family or at least synced up with syncthing. But that’s a work in progress.

Forums – To Fight Social Media’s Pull

Before the centralized social media being the main hubs for communication on the web, there were BBSes/forums. Technically there still are plenty of forums, but they seem to be less used now a days when social media and messaging platforms dominate this space.

What I’m finding now with Social Media is that everything is optimized for doing big numbers, whether it be views, likes, or replies. All optimized for some uncaring algorithm. And it’s all effectively one big feed (filtered for you habits) to keep you on as long as possible. Good for consumption, not so much for communications.

Sure discord servers are an option, and I’m part of a handful, but they are first and foremost a messaging platform first, so it feels as though it needs to be an imminent response. Discord servers can be HUGE, and I struggle to keep up with them. Plus you still have the issue that discord is a centralized service which has its own problems. Forums are a lot slower, often focused on their niche or community, fairly smaller, and are run and hosted independently from some centralized company.

Ultimately that is why I decided to join a handful in the hopes to have generally better conversations than what I’ve gotten from bluesky, and twitter besides friends.

There are currently 4 that I am apart of which aligned with my interest:

Johto Times – A forums for a Pokemon Fan Zine

Demodisc – Addie/Epos Vox’s Forum

Accursed Farms – Ross Scott’s Forum for his Channel

Frutiger Aero Archive – Forum for a site that documents aesthetics around the 2000s-2010s

If anyone has a some recommendations I’ll happily take a look. :)

RSS – To Fight Some Temptations

I’ve talked about rss before. To be honest that article probably needs updating. Basically before people started following everyone else of social media pages, RSS would be one way to receive website updates. Many sites still have them such as for the news, but even youtube channels can be follow this way.

The reason for this is so I’m not relying on social media for most of my news, and to follow channels that might infrequently upload or I have a high chance of missing their content. I also wouldn’t mind following some more thoughtful blogs and web comics too!

Discipline and Awareness – Breaking Habits is Hard

Naturally, I could do all the replacement in the world. Yes, it’s bad to eat a full tub of ice cream in one sitting, but eating a whole bunch of grapes would yield similar effects. … At least with my stomach intolerant ass. Idk why that is.

It’s easy to slip back into just scrolling on my phone, or go down rabbit holes. There are 3 main ways I can go about trying to resist this:

1. Discipline Myself

“Just don’t do it bro” as said easier said than done. But if I don’t start off with me trying to intentionally get better about my use of the internet, and technology then… Well… Why am I writing this?

I have to try to resist the urge to fall into a habit of the doomscroll, or reply to outrage, or feed into my anxiety. Being mindful and trying to get myself to do other things is the whole point of this change.

2. Catching Myself

When that fails I need to train myself to be aware when I’m doing this. I’m mostly calling myself out for when I’m scrolling on YT shorts endlessly. When I’m in this state it is up for me to recognize what I am doing and then go to do. Something else. Whether that be working on the video, playing a game or even watching a movie.

To quote myself in that bluesky thread, literally is more productive for me to do anything else than be scrolling aimlessly on text or vertical video apps. Better I get up and do something else.

3. Rituals in Routine

This came up on a video by Epos Vox on his Lost Saves channel talking about Routines and Rituals. I highly suggest anyone who’s been struggling finding a spark in their adult life to give it watch. It’s very insightful.

If think its best that I try finding a little routine for myself. Not sure how that will look considering my work weeks look more like two weeks (long story), and I work on a rotation. However, I think it is becoming important that I have a “movie night” or a “go to store day.” Like I still need to watch the original Trigun guys. I’ve joked about this before but you’d be surprised how helpful it is to go outside guys. and interact with people? and have it be a good experience?! wild.

I’ll probably speak more to this in the “Yearly Theme” post I’ll make later. I will say I’ve tried to be more spontaneous in my adult hood, and while it kind of is the best way to be with my schedule, it’s felt aimless lately. I might als need dedicated days where I work on something for even 1-2 hours on my off days.

Will I Succeed Where I’ve Failed Before?

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to do something like this. After all… look how dead this blog has been for. I always get this burst of needing or wanting to do something to this effect, and then slip back into some pretty bad habits. RSS is something I keep forgetting to use as an example.

I don’t think there’s any magic change this time around either tbh. Just that I’m older, more tired, disillusioned with social media, needing that human connection again, needed to fight atomization of the human experience, not wanting to be as solitary anymore.

I am not going to make a declarative “This time will be different.” I’m fighting against years of habits I’ve accumulated for 20+ years. But, it is important that I try. That I be mindful of this. That make the effort. That rebel not only against my habits, but the corpos that want to rob me of all my attention and joy.

It is my life. I need to take back the agency for it.

the animals did wake me up. All of them did.

But the beast in me lays dormant for now, however.

Did you know that “another day in paradise” by Phil Collins isn’t literally about another day in paradise, but the opposite?(!!)

Although there’s so much great stuff out there, like butterflies.

There’s terrible stuff too! Not only of our (us humans) own making, but the horrors of the nature too with TBC, tapeworms, Black Death and stingrays.

And tornadoes.

And did you know that the sun will one day go black?

I’m listening to it now: ”blackened sun” by ”freedom call”. It’s about how we humans abuse and ruin this paradise I think.

It’s not like they are wrong, but still even without us, the sun will go black.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, that.

My dark musings were now interrupted by the ”Hammer of the Gods” track, its literally charging me with energies from within. The lyrics is so great and the drummings, man!

This lyrics right here really strikes a chord, don’t you think?

When my mind is going insane  Tell me who's to blame  It's a beast, it's a priest  Is it matter of madness?

🔝

To me this symbolises the hazards of gazing too long at the blackened sun, it could be the last thing you do

Beware!

I am currently processing a lot of anger. Delayed anger. I’m realizing I’ve dealt with many people, especially men, who played the victim. They saw my kindness and generosity. They knew I had the capacity to give and love unconditionally. They couldn’t deal with their own anger, pain, trauma, and insecurities. Instead, they pushed all that onto me. And I took it like my own. I felt responsible for their blame. I allowed that for such a long time, without recognizing that it was they who should have owned and faced their darkness. The whole time, all I felt for them was sympathy and compassion. I am not doing that anymore. Anger isn’t an emotion I often feel. It’s rather new for me. But I’m letting myself feel it deeply and unapologetically.

What does it actually look like if we are to live as a slave to Christ? My pastor recommended me the following books of the Bible to read: Daniel, Nehemiah, Esther, Ezra.

I will read them!

It becomes more and more apparent to me that living as a Christian means that I have to give up everything that I am. This bothers me, and it would probably bother anyone. But I continue, in part because I know that the only path to living the life truly lived, and living a life that God acknowledges is going forward, and giving up more and more of myself. What is the alternative? Living the same way as I did before? Mired in sin, and the meaningless things of this world? These things still call to me, as a siren calling to a sailor from the deep, but what is the point in pursuing them when I have much better things to do with my life? Isn’t it much more interesting to wake up every morning, in expectant hope of what God has in store for you that day? At least, these are the things that I tell myself to keep going. The world tries to brainwash me in one direction, so I must try to keep my thoughts going in the other.

#personal

Shadow,

Firstwax has come, and already the nights are growing brighter. I’ve taken some time to walk the monastery grounds and clear my head. I am writing from under the bough of the Gate of Allseeing.

I walked in the rose fields for some time, down past the gate. Like when we were younger–do you remember? We carried our training spears wherever we went. I think often of the nights we spent sparring in the roses fields, crossing spears until our bodies were black and blue–

I am merely delaying the dreadful memory of the Sabbath Night past. But I know you will give me an earful if I ramble on about the past. I’ll tell you now. But know I’ve broken into the Luneshine.

I crossed the Abyssus Abyssum, north to the holy city. After my prayers I walked the deck, trying to spy the ghostly tails of the comet in the sky. Traveling through the mists in the darkness was slow, but the men at the helm managed well enough. It was the fifth hour of the Sabbath by the time the silver glow of Metagerion began to appear on the horizon. The glow of the city grew ever larger, and by the sixth hour we’d arrived at its massive southern gate.

The journey across the sea had been silent. I sensed the tenseness of the spear men around me. But the moment we’d crossed the inner gate, the city around us erupted into light and noise. The Jubilee had come, and the city was in full celebration. Fireworks erupted above us in the dark sky. The masses reveled below us on the marble avenues below.

Perhaps it is my isolation down here in the south, but the amount of people flooding the streets of the city left me astounded then, watching from the deck. All waiting for the comet’s arrival.

Fools drinking to the devil-eyed wolf being born above.

The ziggurat ascended toward the center of the city. There, the black ziggurat floated above the bowl of the metropolis. It slowly turned as we rose to meet its height, reflecting the starslight and spiraling fireworks.

I’d been overcome with a sense of disorientation as I watched it rotate and stepped away from the deck. It would’ve been quite a disappointment to Aestrigha if I had fallen over. If only I’d had the sense to hurl myself overboard as I staggered around on the deck.

The zeppelin docked and I bade my men to remain aboard, to prepare for immediate departure–I wouldn’t spend any more time there than was required of me.

So I walked alone, under the Ziggurat’s arches and into the darkened halls within. The air was heavy with confounding perfume and incense as I moved deeper in, past the rooms where sorcerers and alchemists were working their secret business.

Before long, I heard the raised voices of the other Patriarchs, who had gathered in the middle of the Ziggurat’s central promenade. They stood in dark cloaks and bent bodies among the roses of the promenade's artificial gardens, awaiting my arrival.

The scent of the roses was a welcome change from the muddling incense, and once I’d cleared the dark outer edge of the promenade, I felt my mind returning to clarity. The other eight patriarchs regarded me, hushing their arguments and craning their dire faces in my direction. But only Father Felix, who you’ll know is grand curator of the Akademia, stepped forward to greet me.

Iyanus! the old patriarch gasped, gripping me on the shoulder. You must imagine him like an old heron, dignified but cautious. He waited for input from the other Patriarchs but none came, none to my surprise. I saw the puzzlement on their faces, their unease. Each one of them has access to their own astrologers and star-watchers. But I could see that none of them had predicted the comet’s arrival either.

The obsidian doors to ziggurat’s inner halls opened. The drowsing aroma of incense wafted back into the room. The Highmother’s cult soon followed–sorcerers in ritual trappings and diviners casting lots and bones, charlatans all like their mistress.

The cult spread out around the outer edges of the roses, their collective gaze downcast. When at last they’d all filed in, a tall figure appeared at the door, draped in gold chain and a gauzy roseweave gown.

Aestrigha had arrived. Her long, dagger like shadow cast itself across the floor as we patriarchs watched. She then appeared, draped in gold and beads, the chief charlatan among her cult of wolves. I Know you have only ever seen her from the balcony of the Ziggurat, but it always shocks me just how tall she is. No burly men could even approach her height or presence.

Her shadow fell upon us and I felt an immediate pressure, a gloam that pushed down on my shoulders. She stepped forward, wearing the golden death mask of a saint. Her beautiful, unmoving face contained the destructive power of her wicked eyes.

But even when the most deadly of her tools was stayed, you were never safe from the malinfluence of a witch like Aestrigha. Even from across the promenade, the sight of her froze the blood in my veins. The other Patriarchs–powerful, prideful men each and every one of them–bowed their heads in deference.

The presence imposed silence upon the hall. The oddly mannered ritualists of her cult gawked our way as she stepped into the light of the atrium’s roses. To my horror, she carried a bundle of her white gown in her arms, swathing the young–arrival as the Subtle Man had called it.

It was there. In her arms. The consequence of my weakness. Her hand laid over the infant to soothe it, but I could not yet see its shape. I could see the sweat of her labor matting her long, orange hair.

“My beloved husbands,” she said.

Her voice is the most pleasing I’ve ever heard. It brought calm and clarity to my mind. But it was her clarity–not my will. I have tried to describe it to you before. It happens before you realize it has clutched your mind in its grip.

Just as the queen sand-bumbler uses her pheromone to compel the drone to act or not act. It is incredibly hard to resist that impulse.

Aestrigha moved forward, joining we fathers in the roses, casting her shadow upon us. I detected movement from the bundle in her arms. But I was also becoming aware of bells ringing from all over the city, overtaking the crowd and fireworks in volume.

“The bells of Metagerion toll wide over the Abyssus Abyssum tonight. Look up to the evernight, and you will see that the Ennealogyos has appeared.”

I looked up as the dark ceiling of the atrium pulled away like mist, revealing the night sky outside. I could see the high walls of the city’s outer rim, while before my very eyes the ghostly tails of the comet began to appear. One by one, until all eight heads sat at the top of the night sky.

A few of the patriarchs gasped, staring in open mouthed disbelief. I could hardly see it as real myself. I wonder if they heard my prayers back at Zoter’s Wall.

“It shrouds the baby prince in its white aura, blessing the commencement of a new era.”

Aestrigha stepped in front of me, pausing while she regarded me with her blind, golden eyes. She knew, Shadow. She knew exactly what I was thinking. She knew of my terror of the thing in her arms, and she savored it.

“Look upon him, husbands,” she commanded, her voice soft and terrible.

She pulled back the gauzy cloth.

I forced myself to look. I prayed to the Ninegod that I would see a human face. I peered in and saw the tranquil, sleeping face of the infant. He had the same devil-orange hair as his mother. I wondered what else he may have inherited and looked away from the baby’s closed eyes.

“See that he is no monster, as many of you have feared. Look and see, he has the eyes of a Fawn.”

The boy did not cry as her hand caressed his cheek. I felt compelled again to look upon his face. My son’s face. His eyes opened. They were large and dark, glinting like stars over the night. He began to fuss and Aestrigha consoled him, pushing away the tufts of orange hair on his brow, where there were two small, raised mounds near his temples.

Horns. The boy had horns, Shadow. I looked upon the faces of the other patriarchs. All fear and apprehension stretched across their old faces. They  gasped, their whispers hissing like steam. A devil. A beast. Yet I suspect none of them knew of my personal involvement in his birth and pray it never comes to light.

“He is the prince of this world,” Aestrigha cooed gently, stroking the nubs of his horns with a long, gold-ringed finger.

As she did, one of her cultists, the Lector, stepped forward. With aged, trembling hands, he held up holy Almagest, invoking Aestrigha’s authority over prophecy. The old Lector never left her side and proceeded to open the tome.

He spoke:

“Eight Aeons have dawned and concluded, as the great Almagest Mund Astrolatri has chronicled in foresight. All signs in the Word, good Fathers, point to the beginning of the final Aeon, belonging to the Prince.”

I looked away, to anywhere else. The comet has grown brighter,

The Lector continued:

“The Rapture comes nigh–but the prince has one more obligation before the final Aeon can begin.”

“Aestrigha, you don’t mean–?” Felix stammered, stepping back.

The Grand Curator had been a Patriarch for thirty years by the time I’d been elevated. He knew what was to come.

“He must be proved to be the Prince,” Aestrigha replied. She turned from me, turning away with that bundle that I so suddenly needed to see.

“Accompany me.”

Unseen machinery began to grind somewhere in the Zigurrat’s dark vastness. The starry night above us began to vanish again into mist, as though overtaken by the waves of the sea. I felt my body moving, downward, deep into the Ziggurat’s depths.

Deep into the mist.

The descending floor left the atrium and descended down a glittering tunnel of rock. I estimated that we were below the mistline of the sea, well beyond the lowest terraces of the city–which were regularly flooded. We emerged from the bottom into a vast, circular cavern, where the mists roiled and tossed ferociously.

The cavern must have been large enough for an entire armada of Zeppelins to fit inside. I had never seen something so grand. We were descending toward a small island in the churning basin, rising up like the pistil of a flower. The floor touched down. The mists shimmered and swirled around me as we spread out, making room for Aestrigha to pass.

“Bear your eyes to the Mist Well, as I conduct the Prince’s proving.”

Aestrigha stood at the edge of the well, where the mists blew her roseweave gown around her.

“I give him to the mists, let him return to me with his mandate–”

My heart hammered against my ribs, Shadow. I realized what she intended to do. I wanted to scream, to tackle her, to strike her with the spear I did not carry anymore. But her voice held me as rooted as the roses around us.

I watched as though a statue as  she held the child—my son, Shadow, I care not if he’s a devil—out over the open well.

The boy cried out, his shriek piercing the muting mist. I saw his dark eyes, so full of fear of his mother. And then, I like to tell myself he looked past her–his black eyes knowing me. Forgiving me.

But how could that be true? How would he even know me from the other tired, fearful men gathered around me.

I waited for one moment, breathless and desperate to intervene.

And she opened her arms, release her hold over the baby.

I watched the delicate bundle fall, but it didn’t plummet silently into the coursing, swirling mists below. It seemed to float upon the puffy mist banks, receding as though a gift received by the arms of the sea. I watched until the roseweave cloth disappeared, swallowed by the stormy clouds.

She turned back to us, her golden hands empty.

“It is done,” she said. “Await him. Twenty-one years hence, when the Ennealogyos returns once more, the ninth and final Aeon will commence.”

I was stunned with disbelief. No other Patriarchs moved.

“Let the Jubilee continue.” Said the Highmother, and the infant was gone.

I was then detained in the capital for the duration of the Sabbath. I fled the Ziggurat and hung low with my contacts in the slums. Then, at Karillia’s first light, I gave the order to depart back south to Zoter’s Wall.

Now I sit here drunk like a novice, under the Gate of Allseeing, with the bottle of Luneshine nearly empty. The moons have waxed some since I first started writing. Now you know the worst of it. I stood by and watched a monster cast my son into the mists.

I pray it killed him, Shadow. Maybe that is the worst part. Maybe he would fail his proving down there. And never come back.

Because if he survived… Ninegod help us.

I am going to sleep now.  Don’t worry, my security detail will soon enough find me. I await your reply. Do not think too poorly of me.

Joyous Jubilee,

IYANUS, P.

29th Jassuary, 9978 CY

Shadow,

It’s been three nights since I’ve been able to send my reply. My zeppelin has only just made it back to Zoter’s Wall. I’d been detained up north at the capital for the duration of the Sabbath Night, as my helmsmen decided we couldn’t risk the storms in the darkness without risk of disaster.

We’d barely had time to depart before the moons had all gone dark, ushering in the dreadful Sabbath. I’d been reading by the fireside in my bed chamber atop the tower, weary of the attention I’d spent directing the monastery’s preparations for the moonsless night to come. A rustling had caught my attention, and I turned to wafting curtains, where something stood just beyond the open balcony doors.

A Subtle Man had arrived from the north. Whether he carried a message or the dagger for me, I couldn’t immediately discern. I don’t have to tell you, the man-shaped void on the balcony frightened me to my feet at once. I may be beyond my training years, but I am still a monk of the Wall. The silver shaft of my spear was standing at my bedside, far from my reach. I didn’t move, knowing the inky skulker on the balcony could intercept and silence me before I reached it. Nor would I be able to yell for spearmen stationed outside my door. They move with astonishing speed.

But the shadow was not an assassin this time. He’d come with a message. I waited breathless as he stood on the balcony, a black shape cut from the starry night behind him.

He said,

“Honored Patriarch Iyanus, your great wife calls you to the Ziggurat for the Jubilee. The comet’s arrival is imminent. The bells of Metagerion are ringing out. But there is another arrival…”

I rounded my chair then, practically jumping toward the balcony. I yelled to the phantom, demanding he explain what he meant. Yet by the time I’d reached the doors, flinging away the curtains from my body, the phantom had melted away and gone.

I crossed the room and flung open my chamber doors. The new First Spear, Makelm, was there standing among his monks. I took them by surprise. Neither Makelm nor the other monks heard anything of the disturbance. I do not discount their training. The Subtle Men were only seen and heard when they wished to be. Or on instruction of their mistress, the Highmother.

I relayed the urgent summons to Makelm, and soon the men were running down the tower’s stairs to the monastery below. By the time I’d crossed the bridge of the tower and stood at the Gate of Ninefold Harmony, all ninety-nine monks of the Wall had been roused and were preparing the zeppelin for departure.

From the gate I saw a vista of the diminished moons, sunken into the misty sea and half obscured by the rising sabbath storms. Little Karillia and Belephon had already gone dark, their discs like empty holes in the sky. Only giant Hespyreus had shine left–a scarce sliver of crescent that would quickly wane. The sea was already so dark by then. The stars, though dense, offered little light for our journey.

Below the moons, storms were already spinning up in the mists. Electricity coursed in the bottomless depths, great arcs that bounded in the currents. I began to feel a dread that stayed with me throughout the night. Travel during the sabbath is never wise, you know that. But I could not disobey this summon to the Ziggurat. Not on this night. Not from the Highmother. Her Subtle Man had announced the comet’s arrival. It had caught out astrologers here at the Wall unawares–we’d seen no indication of its return. But the Ziggurat was never wrong.

And the shadow messenger had said, there was another arrival.

I have told you of my regrets of the past. Of my weakness when it comes to Aestrigha. She is not easy to deny. I am but the age of a father, much younger than the other Patriarchs. I can see why her devil-eyes fell upon me. Those eyes scare me, though I have never seen them myself–thank the Ninegod. But I have seen them unfettered, and the devastation they can inflict upon the flesh of a man. To twist. To rip. To warp.

Another Arrival, it still rings through my mind.

She has more at her disposal though than just her eyes. When she speaks, it is as though you have no choice but to hear her. To obey her. I fear those eyes, so I submitted to the voice. And what it told me to do–Ninegod, what have I done, Shadow?

I tell you now, she made me do it with her siren voice.  But I am a man, and a weak one at that when it comes to that wretched witch. I can only be adamant with myself that she used her voice upon me. That I couldn’t resist her. I cannot live with myself any other way.

I won’t be made the father of a demon. Yet I laid with a demoness.

I scanned the skies from the gate, looking for the comet’s arrival. Yet I saw no sign. So, I hurried back across the bridge into the tower to change from my bed clothes. I wore the least elaborate habit I could find. Saffrine in the color, red like the rose. Before departing, I passed into my private cloister and knelt before the silver Nonikon, offering my frantic prayers to the Ninegod.

Yet I knew no storm or darkness of the Sabbath Night would prevent me from reaching the north, so

When I’d made it back across the bridge, the zeppelin was hovering over the harbor, having been moored by the cliffs on the northside of the Monastery to shield it from the electrical storms. I made my way down the steps beyond the gate and entered the courtyard below. The First Spear awaited me, and we hurried to the harbor.

I boarded the Zeppelin, leaving the First Spear to govern the monastery in my absence. A detachment of nine men accompanied me, with the others disappearing up the monastery’s terraces, readying their spears for the devils and geists of the Sabbath Night to come. The zeppelin rose high above the isle and pointed north toward the holy city.

I awaited the comet’s arrival the entire journey there, yet there was only the endless mists of the Abyssus Abyssum around us. Yet it did not appear. The astrologers of the ziggurat would later time its apparition to the exact moment of the devil-boy’s birth–

I will write more later. But now I must think. And Drink. On the confirmation of my worst fear. My body is weary of traveling. My mind feels full of the sea’s poisonous mist. I will go sit by the fire and rest–I can hear you already scolding me.

‘Til the last nights pass,

IYANUS, P.

27th Jassuary, 9978 CY

PS – I know you will be eager to reply. But forego your judgment until I’ve told you the worst of it.

– Your friend, I.

Médard Bourgault (1897–1967) est reconnu comme le père de la tradition moderne de la sculpture sur bois au Québec.

Autodidacte originaire de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, il reprend au tournant des années 1930 un artisanat religieux alors en déclin. Avant Médard, la sculpture sur bois d’inspiration religieuse, ancrée depuis le XVIIe siècle, avait été presque abandonnée au XIXᵉ au profit des statues de plâtre importées de modèles étrangers. Les églises québécoises se tournaient massivement vers ce substitut industriel ; les artisans locaux, quand ils existaient, étaient rarement formellement reconnus comme artistes.

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Art traditionnel (sculpture religieuse, artisanat)

Situation avant Médard

Le Québec rural du début XXᵉ siècle connaît des pratiques artisanales traditionnelles mais moribondes. La sculpture sur bois religieuse est devenue marginale au profit de productions industrielles (statues en plâtre ou importées). Le métier de sculpteur-artisan vit surtout de commandes d’églises et de mobilier religieux, avec peu de place pour la création profane. Les savoir-faire existent dans les villages, mais leur transmission reste informelle et limitée.

Action de Médard

À son retour de la marine marchande, Médard Bourgault se consacre entièrement à la sculpture sur bois (dès 1929–1930), à la faveur d’une crise économique qui l’a laissé sans emploi. Sa rencontre avec l’ethnologue Marius Barbeau en 1930 est déterminante : ce dernier lui achète ses œuvres et le fait entrer dans les réseaux de collectionneurs et de milieux culturels au Canada et à l’étranger. Stimulé par l’arrivée de nombreux touristes via le nouveau boulevard des Marins (inauguré en 1929), le gouvernement du Québec favorise la mise en valeur des métiers artisanaux. Médard installe une table devant sa maison et vend directement au public des statuettes vernaculaires – paysans, bûcherons, types québécois – qu’il sculpte et souvent polychrome lui-même. Il introduit alors de nouveaux sujets profanes dans la sculpture sur bois, tout en continuant à réaliser des œuvres liturgiques (Vierges, chemins de croix) sur demande.

Situation après Médard

L’action de Médard Bourgault transforme radicalement le paysage artisanal. Avec ses frères Jean-Julien et André (les « trois Bérets »), il fonde en 1940 la première École de sculpture sur bois subventionnée par l’État du Québec. Plusieurs générations de sculpteurs y sont formées, assurant la transmission des techniques. En quelques décennies, plus d’une centaine de familles tirent leur subsistance de la sculpture sur bois à Saint-Jean-Port-Joli. Les créations des Bourgault suscitent un engouement significatif : dès les années 1940, la municipalité est surnommée la « capitale de l’artisanat ». La tradition se perpétue tant dans le religieux (retables, ornements d’église) que dans l’artisanat profane et l’art sacré.

En somme, Bourgault redonne un nouvel élan à une tradition abandonnée : « il a redonné un élan à la sculpture sur bois d’inspiration religieuse, enracinée depuis le XVIIᵉ siècle mais délaissée à partir du XIXᵉ siècle ». La continuité est nette dans la valorisation du travail manuel et familial hérité des paysans québécois, mais il y a rupture dans la forme : l’artiste cède aux exigences du marché moderne (scènes de la vie rurale, simplicité des sujets) et dessine les premières lignes d’une véritable « école québécoise » de sculpture populaire.

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Beaux-arts (relations avec les institutions, reconnaissance artistique)

Situation avant Médard

Dans la première moitié du XXᵉ siècle, le « marché » des beaux-arts au Québec privilégie la peinture et la sculpture académique ou moderne. L’art populaire et l’artisanat sont largement tenus à l’écart des grandes institutions muséales et des programmes de formation artistique. Quand Bourgault commence à sculpter, ses œuvres sont avant tout considérées comme de l’artisanat ou du folklore régional. Les élites artistiques francophones du Québec, sensibles au cinéma et aux traditions culturelles, accordent plus d’intérêt aux arts visuels « savants » qu’à la sculpture sur bois vernaculaire.

Action de Médard

Médard Bourgault agit moins sur le monde institutionnel que sur la perception populaire de l’art. Grâce à Barbeau et à des commandes publiques (mobilier d’églises, crèches, etc.), ses œuvres circulent dans des églises et quelques musées d’ethnologie. Toutefois, son positionnement « entre » artisanat et art le place souvent à l’écart du système académique. Les musées nationaux n’organisent pas d’expositions majeures à son honneur, et son travail reste longtemps méconnu du grand public cultivé. Néanmoins, Bourgault et ses frères réussissent à faire reconnaître la valeur esthétique de leurs créations : leur approche narrative et expressive est perçue comme « authentiquement québécoise » et basée sur des valeurs traditionnelles (famille, foi, travail manuel). Cette nouvelle reconnaissance identitaire du « patrimoine populaire » est soutenue par des organismes ethnologiques (SQE, ou Conseil des arts du Québec naissant en 1957) qui valorisent les « porteurs de tradition ».

Situation après Médard

Dans la seconde moitié du XXᵉ siècle, la dichotomie entre beaux-arts et art populaire se cristallise davantage. Comme le souligne l’inventaire du patrimoine immatériel, les politiques culturelles tendent à établir la figure de l’« artiste professionnel » et excluent encore l’art populaire des formations et des musées d’art. En dépit de cela, l’héritage de Bourgault commence tardivement à franchir le fossé institutionnel. Quelques-unes de ses sculptures religieuses entrent dans les collections publiques (par exemple, on en compte plusieurs au Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec), et le travail des Bourgault fait l’objet d’études ethnologiques.

Plus récemment, des sculpteurs de la lignée familiale, comme Pierre Bourgault (né en 1942, neveu de Médard), obtiennent d’importantes distinctions en arts visuels (prix Paul-Émile Borduas, prix du Gouverneur général). Dans ses interviews, Pierre Bourgault note que sa famille a longtemps été vue par les institutions comme des « gosseux de bois » peu sérieux, et qu’il espérait une reconnaissance formelle de ce nom. Cet élan tardif vers la reconnaissance confirme une rupture : le prestige académique du milieu de l’art montre aujourd’hui du respect pour une tradition qui y était ignorée.

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Art contemporain (héritage formel et conceptuel)

Après-Médard et continuité

L’influence de Bourgault se prolonge dans l’art contemporain québécois, notamment au Québec rural. À Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, l’enseignement de la sculpture hérité des Bourgault évolue vers la modernité. Le vieil atelier-école, redéfini en 1992, devient le Centre Est-Nord-Est consacré à l’art contemporain et accueille des résidences d’artistes. En 1984, la municipalité organise un Symposium international de sculpture contemporaine, marquant la volonté d’établir un dialogue entre tradition et innovation. Plusieurs sculpteurs locaux perpétuent le travail du bois en explorant de nouveaux matériaux et échelles (pierres, métaux, installations). L’exposition permanente du Musée de la mémoire vivante note ainsi qu’à partir des années 1950, les thèmes se modernisent et des formes inédites apparaissent dans la sculpture régionale.

Héritage formel et conceptuel

Médard Bourgault a pérennisé le mode de la taille directe du bois, à l’affût du grain et du sujet – un geste formel qui traverse les générations. Il a aussi inauguré une démarche narrative où le sculpteur raconte l’identité collective par la figuration. Cette dimension conceptuelle se retrouve aujourd’hui dans les œuvres qui interrogent l’histoire québécoise et les mythes fondateurs.

Par exemple, les volumes monumentaux de Pierre Bourgault (formes abstraites évoquant la mer) prolongent indirectement l’intérêt familial pour le bois, tandis que des artistes conceptuels s’inspirent de l’idée même d’« art paysan » qu’incarnait Médard. En somme, la rupture principale réside dans l’élévation du statut de cette pratique : ce qui était considéré comme artisanat populaire est désormais assumé comme une composante légitime de l’art contemporain québécois.

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Conclusion

L’œuvre de Médard Bourgault a ainsi engendré à la fois une continuité et des ruptures dans l’histoire de l’art québécois. Continuité, car il ancre durablement la sculpture sur bois dans la culture populaire québécoise et forme de nombreux artisans-sculpteurs. Rupture, car il a contribué à franchir la frontière entre art populaire et beaux-arts : en faisant rayonner un style « authentiquement québécois », il a rendu possible une revalorisation ultérieure par les institutions et l’art contemporain. Aujourd’hui, le « mouvement Bourgault » est reconnu comme le fondement d’un renouveau national : sans lui, Saint-Jean-Port-Joli n’aurait jamais été la capitale de la sculpture qu’elle est devenue. Les héritiers de Bourgault, en atelier ou en musée, perpétuent un dialogue entre tradition et modernité, prolongeant l’impact du « maître-sculpteur » sur les pratiques artistiques au Québec.

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Sources

Site patrimonial du Domaine-Médard-Bourgault – Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=211488&type=bien

Médard Bourgault, maître d’art, 1930-1967 – Société québécoise d'ethnologie https://ethnologiequebec.org/2021/04/medard-bourgault-maitre-dart-1930-1967/

Les trois Bérets et la sculpture sur bois – Saint-Jean-Port-Joli https://saintjeanportjoli.com/les-trois-berets-et-la-sculpture-sur-bois/

Les retrouvailles des héritiers de Médard Bourgault : un immense succès https://ethnologiequebec.org/2017/09/les-retrouvailles-des-heritiers-de-medard-bourgault-un-immense-succes/

Sculpture d'art populaire – Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=81&type=imma

Pierre Bourgault remporte un prix du Gouverneur général en arts visuels au Canada https://leplacoteux.com/pierre-bourgault-remporte-un-prix-du-gouverneur-general-en-arts-visuels-au-canada/

Avant Bourgault : une sculpture sous influence européenne et religieuse

Au début du XXᵉ siècle, l’art québécois – et en particulier la sculpture – restait largement tributaire de modèles importés et de traditions anciennes. Plusieurs caractéristiques marquent cette période avant l’émergence de Médard Bourgault :

Une influence européenne dominante

Les artistes et artisans québécois s’inspirent fortement des styles venus d’Europe, faute d’une esthétique locale affirmée. Dans la sculpture, cela se traduit notamment par l’imitation de modèles français ou italiens pour les œuvres religieuses(1). Les grandes églises se garnissent souvent de statues importées ou calquées sur des œuvres européennes reconnues, ce qui limite l’originalité locale.

Un art religieux très formel

La sculpture est essentiellement au service de l’Église catholique. Des sculpteurs comme Louis Jobin (1845-1928) réalisent d’innombrables statues de saints et d’ornements d’église, dans un style sacré académique. À partir de la fin du XIXᵉ siècle, ces sculptures traditionnelles en bois tombent en désuétude au profit de statues en plâtre produites en série d’après des modèles étrangers(1). Ce recours au plâtre standardise l’art religieux et éclipse le savoir-faire artisanal local.

Aucune école de sculpture locale

Avant les années 1930, il n’existe pas de véritable institution au Québec pour former des sculpteurs sur bois. Les rares artistes doivent apprendre sur le tas ou s’exiler dans des écoles influencées par l’Europe. Il n’y a pas encore d’« école québécoise » distinctive. La première école de sculpture sur bois n’ouvrira qu’en 1940, fondée par Bourgault lui-même(2).

L’art populaire méconnu

Les œuvres d’artisans autodidactes – les « gossesux » – ne sont pas considérées comme de l’Art. L’art populaire est relégué au folklore, absent des musées et des formations académiques(3)(4). Quelques ethnographes s’y intéressent dans les années 1930 (Guilde canadienne des métiers d’art, enquête de Gauvreau publiée en 1940)(1), mais cela reste marginal jusqu’à l’arrivée de Bourgault.

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L’apport de Médard Bourgault : un art enraciné, vivant et original

Médard Bourgault (1897-1967), marin puis menuisier, découvre sa vocation de sculpteur autodidacte et, dès 1927, se consacre entièrement à la sculpture(5). Grâce à son talent et aux appuis de Marius Barbeau et de politiciens qui achètent ses œuvres, il parvient à vivre de son art(6)(7). Il révolutionne la sculpture québécoise de plusieurs façons.

Renouveau de la sculpture religieuse

Bourgault crée des œuvres sacrées originales, sculptées directement dans le bois, rompant avec les statues de plâtre standardisées du XIXᵉ siècle(8). Ses crucifix, Vierges et saints témoignent d’une foi authentique et d’un savoir-faire régional(1).

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Les contributions majeures de Médard Bourgault

1. Des scènes du quotidien élevées au rang d’art

Il puise dans la vie rurale québécoise : paysans, travailleurs, veillées familiales(10). Œuvres : L’arracheur de souches (1931), Le joueur de dames (1932), Les moissonneurs (1940)(11)(12)(13).

Ce choix est novateur : ces scènes ordinaires étaient rarement considérées comme de l’art. Le public s’enthousiasme immédiatement(14)(15). Ses œuvres se diffusent dans les chalets, les maisons, puis dans les collections du Canada anglais(16). Les personnages âgés du village deviennent des modèles, préservant la mémoire d’une culture en transformation(17).

2. La fondation d’une école de sculpture (1940)

Dès 1930-33, les trois frères Bourgault forment des apprentis dans un atelier agrandi(18)(19). En 1940, avec l’appui du premier ministre Adélard Godbout, leur atelier devient la première École de sculpture de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, subventionnée par l’État(2)(20). Médard accueille une quinzaine d’élèves et enseigne sans livres, hors des méthodes académiques(21). L’école ferme pendant la guerre mais rouvre ensuite et forme des générations jusqu’aux années 1960(19). Cette institutionnalisation de l’art populaire est un tournant majeur.

3. Le renouveau de l’art religieux local

Pendant plus de trente ans, il sculpte de nombreuses œuvres sacrées :

• crucifix
• Vierges
• saints
• chemins de croix(9)

Il crée 50 statues originales pour l’église Saint-Viateur d’Outremont et le chemin de croix + chaire de l’église de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli(22)(23). Ses œuvres se retrouvent même aux États-Unis(13). Il ravive la tradition de la sculpture religieuse québécoise du XVIIᵉ siècle(24).

4. La vulgarisation de l’art populaire québécois

Dès 1929, il installe un kiosque devant sa maison pour vendre aux touristes(25). Cette idée simple déclenche un engouement énorme dans les années 1930(26)(27). Saint-Jean-Port-Joli devient la « capitale de l’artisanat » dans les années 1940(28). Les médias, ethnologues et journalistes le consacrent comme une figure majeure(29)(30)(31). Son initiative permet à d’innombrables artisans de vivre de leur art(32).

5. L’exportation de la sculpture québécoise

Plus de 4 000 pièces produites et vendues sur les cinq continents(3). Expositions à Québec, Montréal, Toronto dès les années 1930(33). Le gouvernement du Québec achète des œuvres dès les années 1940(34). Les sculptures deviennent des cadeaux diplomatiques(35). Elles entrent dans les grands musées du Québec et de l’étranger(36). L’art populaire québécois gagne une reconnaissance internationale.

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Un héritage durable : patrimoine vivant et rayonnement international

Patrimonialisation de l’art populaire

La maison et l’atelier de Médard sont designés site patrimonial en 2017(32). En 2023, Médard, André et Jean-Julien deviennent personnages historiques officiels(1)(33). La sculpture sur bois de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli est considérée comme patrimoine immatériel potentiel(34)(35).

Une dynastie d’artistes

Médard a 16 enfants, dont plusieurs deviennent sculpteurs(36). Les élèves des années 1940 fondent leurs ateliers. Une véritable dynastie et tradition vivante se forme. André-Médard Bourgault perpétue encore aujourd’hui les méthodes familiales(37).

Saint-Jean-Port-Joli : capitale de la sculpture

Le village connaît la plus grande concentration de sculpteurs au Québec(38)(39). Il devient capitale culturelle du Canada en 2005(40). L’atelier de 1940 devient le Centre Est-Nord-Est (résidence d’artistes)(41). Un musée de la sculpture sur bois fait découvrir cette tradition au public(42).

Rayonnement international

En 1951, la photographe Lida Moser immortalise les frères Bourgault dans Vogue(45). Films, reportages et photos propagent leur image(46)(47). Les gouvernements utilisent leurs œuvres comme symboles culturels(48). Les musées nationaux conservent leurs œuvres(49). Symposiums internationaux de sculpture dès 1984(50)(51). Depuis 1994 : L’Internationale de la sculpture(52).

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Conclusion

Médard Bourgault a profondément transformé l’art québécois au XXᵉ siècle. Il a ancré la sculpture dans la vie d’ici, donné une voix à l’art populaire, fondé une école, inspiré des générations et projeté le Québec sur la scène internationale.

Il a prouvé qu’un art enraciné dans la culture locale peut atteindre une portée universelle.

Sources

Site patrimonial du Domaine-Médard-Bourgault – Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=211488&type=bien

BOURGAULT, Médard (1897-1967) | Dictionnaire historique de la sculpture québécoise au XXᵉ siècle https://dictionnaire.espaceartactuel.com/fr/artistes/bourgault-medard-1897-1967/

Sculpture d'art populaire – Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=81&type=imma

Bourgault, Médard – Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=9563&type=pge

Médard Bourgault | Domaine Médard Bourgault https://medardbourgault.org/medard-bourgault/

Les trois Bérets et la sculpture sur bois – Saint-Jean-Port-Joli https://saintjeanportjoli.com/les-trois-berets-et-la-sculpture-sur-bois/

Médard Bourgault, pionnier de la sculpture sur bois – Journal Le Placoteux https://leplacoteux.com/medard-bourgault-pionnier-de-la-sculpture-sur-bois/

The Bourgault family of Saint-Jean-Port-Joli | shadflyguy https://shadflyguy.com/2019/03/01/the-bourgault-family-of-saint-jean-port-joli/

La sculpture à Saint-Jean-Port-Joli en 14 superbes photos | JDQ https://www.journaldequebec.com/2023/05/07/la-sculpture-a-saint-jean-port-joli-en-14-superbes-photos

L'Attisée | Centenaire de la sculpture sur bois à Saint-Jean-Port-Joli https://www.lattisee.com/actualites/view/6338/centenaire-de-la-sculpture-sur-bois-a-saint-jean-port-joli

André-Médard Bourgault – Wood carving – Le Vivoir https://levivoir.com/en/andre-medard-bourgault?srsltid=AfmBOopLInu4hiiO8GV0YbDHLSJciw6CpSEVrewTzLZ79KTqG9niwlI6

A Self-Taught Artist Rooted in Rural Catholic Québec

Médard Bourgault (1897–1967) was a self-taught Québec sculptor from Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, a rural Catholic village on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River(1). Born into a modest family of carpenters and sailors, he learned woodcarving on his own, drawing on the artisanal knowledge of his community. As a young man, he was encouraged by a local penknife carver (Arthur Fournier), then noticed in 1930 by the anthropologist Marius Barbeau, who bought several pieces and introduced him to cultural circles(2).

Thanks to this recognition—and to the rise of tourism along the St. Lawrence during the Great Depression—Bourgault began selling his sculptures to visitors, even setting up a small stand in front of his house to display his work(3). His carved scenes of traditional life quickly charmed the public: he received an impressive number of commissions, which pushed him to refine and adapt his style while maintaining his independence(4). Together with his brothers André and Jean-Julien—also sculptors—he trained apprentices and helped turn Saint-Jean-Port-Joli into Québec’s “capital of woodcarving”(5).

Bourgault was deeply rooted in the Catholic Québec of the 20th century, a world where the Church and rural traditions shaped daily life. His personal faith was intense: early on, he decided to devote himself to religious art, both to serve the needs of the Church and to express his own spirituality(6). For more than thirty years, his sculptures reflected this deep faith and found their way into numerous churches and chapels throughout the province. This dual identity—self-taught rural craftsman and devout believer—defines Bourgault’s artistic path and the singularity of his work. Firmly anchored in his terroir, he drew inspiration from Québec’s traditional countryside and Catholic devotion, while aiming for a universal artistic expression.

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Scenes of Faith, Sea, and Everyday Life Carved in Wood

Bourgault’s favorite themes reflect his environment and beliefs. His early works were inspired by the rural life he observed around him: farm families, loggers at work, scenes from the fields, ox-drawn sleds, farm dogs, and more(7). He was also drawn to subjects related to the sea and navigation, echoing his past as a sailor. He carved, for example, Gaspé fishermen pulling in their heavy nets, or schooner captains in slickers facing the river winds(8). One such maritime scene is the relief La pêche (1961)—a large pine panel showing three fishermen hauling a heavy net into their boat as seagulls circle above(9).

Through these peasant and maritime figures, Bourgault honored traditional trades and the simple life of mid-20th-century rural Québec.

In parallel—and increasingly with time—Bourgault turned to religious subjects inspired by his Catholic faith. He carved numerous representations of the Virgin Mary (such as Notre-Dame des blés and Notre-Dame des flots) as well as scenes from the Bible and the lives of saints(10).

Most notably, he excelled in creating Stations of the Cross: fourteen-panel relief cycles illustrating Christ’s Passion, highly sought after by expanding parishes of the 1940s and 50s(11). His wooden Stations of the Cross adorn several churches in Québec (Jesuit Chapel in Québec City, the church in Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, etc.) and even religious communities outside the province(12). These sacred pieces—Madonnas, Crucifixions, saints—occupy a central place in his body of work(13).

Whether depicting a farmer sowing his field or Christ falling beneath the Cross, Bourgault worked primarily in wood (basswood, pine, walnut), sculpted in the round or in high relief. He practiced direct carving, attacking the block with his gouges without any mold or intermediate model. This artisanal approach gives his pieces a raw, living presence, where wood grain and tool marks contribute to the aesthetic. The warm material of wood—sometimes enhanced with early-period polychromy(14)—perfectly suits the popular and religious themes he portrayed.

A Sincere Technique and Deep Faith Serving Emotion

Despite being labeled a “folk artist,” Médard Bourgault developed a technique and style capable of conveying profound emotional force. His status as a self-taught artist, far from being a limitation, allowed him to sculpt with sincerity, free from academic conventions. He observed his subjects closely—whether a ploughman or Christ on the Cross—and extracted their expressive essence rather than anatomical precision. His works privilege expressive strength over academic detail.

As Rodin himself said: “A good sculptor (…) does not merely represent the muscles, but the life that warms them.”(15)

Bourgault’s spirituality is a central driving force of his art. His crucifixions, Madonnas, and saints radiate tangible devotion and humanity, touching the viewer deeply. This spiritual sincerity infuses his work with emotional gravity rarely found in so-called “naïve” art. His major reliefs are “deeply moving and show great sincerity toward life and society”(16).

On a compositional level, Bourgault displayed remarkable inventiveness for an artist without formal training. In his narrative reliefs, he used depth, perspective, and movement. In his Stations of the Cross, the arrangement of figures creates powerful dramaturgy. In his great cycle of panels on “Québec identity”—The Cradle of a People, The Pioneer, The Forge, The Burden of Wars, etc.—he built a true visual epic(17). Created during the Second World War, the cycle blends tradition and modernity(18).

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Works of Striking Expressiveness, Worthy of the Great Masters

Stations of the Cross

Among the most striking examples are the Stations of the Cross carved for the Jesuit Chapel (Québec City) or Caraquet. The 12th station (Jesus Dies on the Cross) shows Christ with his head tilted toward his mother—a composition of great intensity(19).

One of his Stations of the Cross, commissioned in 1948, drew the attention of architects and connoisseurs of sacred art(20).

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The Burden of Wars (1943)

A high relief in pine, often considered his modern masterpiece: a man bent beneath a bundle of weapons symbolizing collective suffering.

Experts have stated that the work “would fit perfectly alongside pieces by other great masters” in a modern art museum(21). It shares an expressive strength comparable to Rodin.

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Marian Statues

Among his major pieces:

• Notre-Dame des flots (1943), acquired by the Musée du Québec(22)
• Notre-Dame des habitants (Virgin with a Sheaf of Wheat), selected by Marius Barbeau for The World’s Great Madonnas, alongside Michelangelo and Raphael(23)

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Recognition and Hierarchies: Rodin vs. Bourgault

Rodin (1840–1917) achieved international recognition—celebrated, honored, and exhibited in major museums(24)(25).

Bourgault, a rural autodidact, received primarily regional recognition(26)(27). His works were sought after, newspapers wrote about him, dignitaries visited his workshop, but he remained classified as a “folk artist.”

Cultural hierarchies favored artists trained in urban, academic environments. Yet, near the end of his life, Bourgault attempted more classical academic subjects such as The Three Graces and The Farewell Kiss(28)(29).

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Rediscovering Bourgault

It is time to recognize Bourgault as an artist whose work carries universal significance. His sculpture transcends his milieu and addresses deep human themes.

It demonstrates that folk art can reach the same expressive heights as “cultivated” art. His sculptures today travel around the world(30).

By positioning Bourgault alongside Rodin, we affirm that artistic emotion has no passport.

Sources

Yves Hébert, « Médard Bourgault, pionnier de la sculpture sur bois », Le Placoteux, 5 février 2024. Jean-François Blanchette, Médard Bourgault et ses héritiers – Un siècle de sculpture à Saint-Jean-Port-Joli, Société québécoise d’ethnologie, 2023. Jean-François Blanchette, « Médard Bourgault, maître d’art, 1930–1967 », Société québécoise d’ethnologie, 2021. Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec, fiches « Bas-relief (La pêche) » et « Station de chemin de croix (Jésus meurt sur la croix) ». Wikipédia, article « Médard Bourgault » (consulté en 2025). Musée des beaux-arts du Canada, notice « Auguste Rodin ». Ethnologie du Québec, « Les Trois Bérets et les ateliers de sculpture de Saint-Jean-Port-Joli », Rabatka, vol. 18, 2020.

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Links

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medard_Bourgault https://ethnologiequebec.org/2021/04/medard-bourgault-maitre-dart-1930-1967/ https://leplacoteux.com/medard-bourgault-pionnier-de-la-sculpture-sur-bois/ https://www.septentrion.qc.ca/catalogue/medard-bourgault-et-ses-heritiers https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=234672&type=bien https://www.patrimoine-culturel.gouv.qc.ca/rpcq/detail.do?methode=consulter&id=231290&type=bien https://www.beaux-arts.ca/collection/artiste/auguste-rodin

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Note : Ce texte présente une analyse générale des enjeux juridiques liés aux ventes immobilières et aux biens patrimoniaux au Québec. Il ne constitue pas une accusation contre une personne ou une organisation, mais un exposé informatif basé sur les lois applicables.

Qu’est-ce qu’un avenant non notarié ?

Un avenant est un addendum ou une modification apportée à un contrat déjà signé. Lorsqu’il est non notarié, il est conclu sous seing privé plutôt que par acte authentique notarié. On parle alors d’une contre-lettre ou de simulation, lorsqu’une entente secrète exprime une volonté différente de celle inscrite dans l’acte officiel¹.

Entre vendeur et acheteur, la contre-lettre prime sur le contrat apparent².

Un avenant non notarié peut servir, par exemple, à modifier le prix réel de vente ou les délais de paiement³. Important : la simulation est permise (art. 1451 CCQ), mais pas si elle sert à frauder ou contourner l’ordre public⁴⁵.

Si l’avenant secret sert à dissimuler un défaut de paiement important, on entre sur un terrain juridique fragile.

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Un avenant non publié au Registre foncier : manque de transparence et insécurité juridique

Au Québec, les transactions immobilières sont officialisées par un acte notarié inscrit au Registre foncier. Seuls les droits publiés sont opposables aux tiers⁶.

Un avenant secret non publié :

• n’a d’effet qu’entre les parties
• est invisible pour les tiers
• ne peut pas être imposé à d’autres personnes

En cas de conflit, c’est le contrat apparent (celui publié) qui l’emporte⁷⁸.

S’il introduit une condition importante (ex. clause résolutoire), elle aurait dû être publiée⁹. Sans publication, elle est inopposable aux tiers.

Résultat : insécurité juridique. L’entente réelle est dans l’ombre, la protection légale est affaiblie.

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Quels risques pour le vendeur si l’avenant dissimule un défaut de paiement ?

1. Recours limités en cas de non-paiement

Sans hypothèque légale ni clause résolutoire publiée, le vendeur doit poursuivre l’acheteur en simple contrat privé. Il ne dispose pas d’un titre exécutoire notarié¹⁰. Et si l’acheteur conteste en alléguant fraude : → le tribunal peut ne retenir que l’acte notarié.

2. Perte de protections sur l’immeuble

Sans sûreté publiée :

• une banque ayant accordé une hypothèque passe avant le vendeur
• un acheteur subséquent n’est pas lié par l’avenant secret¹¹

3. Risque d’insolvabilité

Le vendeur devient créancier ordinaire. En faillite, il risque de ne jamais récupérer le solde impayé.

4. Risques fiscaux et légaux

Un prix réel différent du prix déclaré peut être considéré comme une fausse déclaration fiscale. La loi exige de divulguer la contre-lettre aux autorités¹². Pour un site patrimonial, cela peut être perçu comme une manœuvre trompeuse. → Le contrat secret peut être invalidé¹³.

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Immeuble patrimonial classé : un cas encore plus sensible

Le domaine Médard-Bourgault est un site patrimonial classé. Cela implique des règles particulières.

Droit de préemption du ministère de la Culture

Avant une vente, le ministre doit être avisé 60 jours à l’avance, avec le prix réel et l’acheteur pressenti¹⁴¹⁵.

Le ministre peut acheter le bien au prix communiqué¹⁶.

Si un avenant secret change le prix réel ou les modalités, la vente :

• n’est plus conforme aux conditions transmises
• peut être vue comme une contournement du droit de préemption¹⁷

Cela peut mener à :

• contestation
• enquête
• annulation éventuelle
• atteinte à la réputation

Obligations d’entretien

Toute modification d’un bien classé exige une autorisation ministérielle¹⁸. Un acheteur en difficulté financière (ce qu’un impayé secret laisse entendre) risque :

• d’être incapable d’entretenir le site
• d’entraîner des interventions forcées du ministère¹⁹

Rôle de la municipalité et de la communauté

Une transaction opaque dans un dossier patrimonial :

• brise la confiance
• complique l’accès aux subventions
• nuit à la planification culturelle locale

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Lois applicables : que dit le cadre juridique ?

Code civil du Québec (CCQ)

• art. 1451 : simulation et contre-lettre²⁰
• art. 1452 : tiers de bonne foi privilégiés²¹
• art. 2938+ : publicité des droits²²
• art. 2941 : seul le droit publié est opposable²³
• clauses résolutoires doivent être publiées

Loi sur le patrimoine culturel (LPC)

Articles pertinents :

• art. 54 à 58 : droit de préemption, délai 60 jours²⁴
• art. 57 : la vente doit être au prix communiqué²⁵
• art. 48 : aucune modification sans autorisation²⁶

Registre foncier du Québec

• un avenant privé ne peut être publié tel quel
• doit être transformé en acte notarié
• absence de publication = aucune protection²⁷

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Conclusion – Informer sans juger

L’affaire du domaine Médard-Bourgault montre les risques d’un avenant secret :

• risque financier pour le vendeur
• risque juridique majeur
• risque fiscal
• risque patrimonial
• risque pour la communauté

La vente d’un bien patrimonial exige transparence, rigueur, et respect du cadre légal.

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Sources (liens cliquables)

1. Pouvons-nous légalement utiliser une contre-lettre ? – Dubé Latreille

2. La contre-lettre en immobilier – JuriGo.ca

3. Code civil du Québec – Légis Québec

4. Saisie immobilière et avenant privé – Lexbase

5. Bien patrimonial classé : droit de préemption – OACIQ

6. Loi sur le patrimoine culturel – OACIQ

7. Le Registre foncier du Québec – OACIQ

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