Rachelle Taylor: Tough and talented

Even though two out of three of her neurosurgeons at the Montreal General insisted that she would never use her hands again, Rachelle Taylor wouldn't believe it. Hands were her livelihood, her conduit to the music she loved. Besides, she could feel them and use them "a little."

Fortunately, the third neurosurgeon, Joseph Stratford, the one who reconstructed her broken neck after the car accident, also believed there was hope and called for physiotherapy.

"They'd come in with rubber balls to squeeze, but I wanted a keyboard," Taylor recalls.

A keyboard she got, a clavicord, lent by music professor Tom Plaunt.

Unlike the piano, this 16th century keyboard instrument is portable, making it ideal for practice in bed, and has no pedals, which are useless to someone, like Taylor, with paralyzed legs.

Taylor soon began playing the equally pedalless harpsicord and virginal, both keyboard instruments of the same period.

So, at age 25, the budding concert pianist, mother of three -- twin girls and a one-year-old son -- became a harpsicordist and gave her first concert, one organized by Stratford and held at the hospital.

Fifteen years, one DMus (performance), one post-doc, one husband and another baby later, Taylor is about to launch her first solo CD and give a concert. Vox Virginalis is the name of both, in honour of the virginal, on which Taylor plays some of the English Renaissance pieces (1525 to 1650).

Taylor loves these instruments and the music written for them and, indeed, the whole Elizabethan period, England's "golden age of music." In fact, she was so intrigued by the life of Peter Philips, the composer she studied for her post-doc, that she decided to do something that is rare for a performer: a PhD in musicology.

"In music, you usually perform or do research. It's rare to do both and it's hard to do both well," says Taylor who has performed internationally and already delivered a well-received paper at the prestigious American Musicology Conference.

This time round, her thesis subject is how musicians were used as spies by the Elizabethan court. If you think back to the movies Shakespeare in Love or Elizabeth, you will recall the omnipresence of spies, many of whom were artists, says Taylor, because at a period where there were few patrons, money was hard to come by.

"It was a bit like having a Canada Council grant today," says Taylor, only half joking. She believes that art is usually determined by socio-political and religious factors. The Elizabethan playwright, Christopher Marlowe, for instance, was a court spy and was killed for it, although the movie, Shakespeare in Love led audiences to believe he was killed in a barroom brawl.

Taking such liberties with history infuriates Taylor almost as much as the errors in choice of music. In neither of the above films, for instance, was the music from the period. "They wouldn't think of having costumes from another era, so why music?" she fumes. Concluding that ignorance is at the root of such carelessness, Taylor is launching a music research service for film and video companies at the company she coordinates, the Société québécoise de recherche en musique.

Disrespect for music is not her only beef. Living close to the centre of town, she hoped to take the new bus, specially adapted for wheelchairs, to get to McGill where she teaches research method. No such luck. The bus is only available for people in wheelchairs outside of peak periods. "So much for transport adapté," she says. "I take a lot of cabs."

When the weather's good, Taylor wheels down to McGill, four-year-old Grégoire strapped to her knee, then calls the McGill bus for the disabled to take them to the daycare. "That's a full one-and-a-half hours of quality time with him," says Taylor who never works at home until her children are asleep. "These are my two careers, being a mom and being a musician."

Having had her life turned upside down once, Taylor seems undaunted by things that would defeat many of us. When she was pregnant five years ago, she was under doctor's orders to spend four months on her back. That didn't stop her from continuing her doctoral studies. "She did her paleography homework, transcribing music from old notation to modern notation, on her back," exclaims music professor Julie Cumming, Taylor's adviser for her first PhD. "She's so positive about life and music and people; it always astounds me."

Bronwyn Chester

PHOTO: OWEN EGAN

The Redpath Museum has played host to a wide assortment of exhibitions over the years. Fauna Secreta might well be the most unusual yet.

Spanish artists Joan Fontcuberta and Pere Formiguera have done a beastly thing: mounted an exhibit of a forgotten German zoologist, Peter Ameisenhaufen (German for anthill), who discovered, documented, drew, photographed and stuffed animals never seen before or since his time, 1895 to about 1955 (His body was never found so his date of death is a bit of a mystery).

The two Catalonians stumbled upon the shunned doctor's work in Glasgow in 1980 and set about bringing it to the world's attention. After assembling the various elements, they sent it on its way and it has toured the world ever since. The Redpath now has the privilege of enlightening -- or disorienting -- the local citizenry.

Behold Solenoglypha Polipodida, the snake that walks on six sets of legs. Jackalupus Esteparius is sure to surprise: a hare with antlers? But the proof is there, scientifically documented. It all looks authentic. Which might be the point. Can we trust everything we see in a museum?

And, perhaps there was a living centaur after all. Centaurus Neandertalensis, first animal in the exhibit, greets you at the top of the stairs: part monkey, part goat, one would guess, and hospitable to boot. The warm feelings between Ameisenhaufen and the four-legged, two-armed creature are palpable in the exhibit photograph, taken in Uganda.

Ameisenhaufen even made it to Quebec where he discovered the Draco Memphremagogsis, now believed extinct. The water creature resembled a duck-headed, feathered eel.

Believe it or not, this exhibit is not to be missed. Fauna Secreta is on at the Redpath until Oct. 15.

With all the fuss over [genetically modified] food and so on, it is difficult to be a scientist in Britain. One does not feel proud of being a scientist any longer. And I fear it is very discouraging for our young people.


New obstetrics and gynecology professor Roger Gosden, talking to The Daily Telegraph. Gosden says one of the reasons he switched countries to join McGill was because of a public and political backlash against biotechnology and genetic science in Britain.

PHOTO: OWEN EGAN

You can learn a new language in any number of ways -- through classroom exercises or listening to instructional tapes, for instance. Students in the Department of Russian and Slavic Studies employ both methods as they try to conquer the language of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. They've added a new method to their repertoire in the last two years -- conversing with real, live Russians.

Each week, students from the department get together for two hours with a group of Russian immigrants. Meeting in the department's quarters, they speak in Russian for an hour, then switch to English for the remaining hour.

The language exchange was the brainchild of former Russian and Slavic Studies student Alex Johnston. The Russians come by way of the Welcome Hall Mission, a community centre in St. Henri. They are chosen on the basis of their interest in participating (for their part, they want to perfect their English) and also on their backgrounds; academics are favoured. Among the Russians taking part in the language exchange are a physicist, a geologist and an historian.

The language exchange began its third year last week. "They like the fact that we're interested in their language and in Russia," says student organizer Clara Péron. "We talk about our families, our studies, our favourite authors. They want to find out about the sovereignty issue."

Professor Tatiana Patera, the department's chair, is a fan of the exchange. "The students are really profiting," she says. As they relax and get to know their Russian chat-mates, "they lose their fear of making mistakes."

My concern is that we shouldn't be too smug here in Canada in saying that could never happen to us. On the contrary, it's the older building stock that I'm worried about.


Civil engineering professor Denis Mitchell, an expert on how structures resist earthquakes, talking to The Globe and Mail. Mitchell recently returned from surveying the damage caused by the August 17 earthquake in Turkey. Mitchell worries that our older buildings are vulnerable and that building codes aren't enforced.