“Politicians should do politics and painters should paint,” Bruce argued.
“Oh no, you’ve got it completely wrong,” Ken said. “Just what the hell
do you think I’ve been up to this entire time? This is politics – this is politics
writ large! And I want Parliament. It’s the proper place for it.”
Karen turned to Bruce. “I told you that he’s unmanageable. He’ll have
his way just because he’s bloody-minded enough. Don’t forget that his
growing-up years were spent in two countries ruled by dictators – and
it rubbed off on him. You may as well go along with it. He’s not going to
shut up until you do something about it.”
Ken picked up the phone, dialled John Fraser’s number and made an
appointment for Bruce.
“But why don’t you just come to Ottawa yourself?” John asked.
“Because I have people,” Ken said. “And it’s time for my people to talk
to your people.”
John laughed, and Bruce flew to Ottawa. When he came back he was
shaking his head. “You’ve got Parliament!” he said.
The Prime Minister was enormously supportive of the event, John
Fraser said. The official unveiling of Isumataq was scheduled for March
30, 1992. In the interim Ken toured with the twenty-five foot model.
His first stop was a dinner meeting of the Italian Canadian Business and
Professional Association, then the Orillia branch of the Canadian Club,
where his audience consisted mostly of older women who greeted his stories
of the grandmothers with thunderous applause and the suggestion
that he should be the next Prime Minister of Canada.
Many of his presentations were held in towns in the Ottawa area as
anticipation began to build for the unveiling in Parliament. Ken and
his team had the enormously difficult task of working out the logistics
of transporting the painting to Ottawa and later to venues around the
country. Since the hall in Parliament could not accommodate all thirtyeight
panels of Isumataq, Ken arranged to have the model shipped along
with the first four panels, so the audience could view both the scope of
Isumataq and the full painting. Isumataq had never been assembled in its
entirety and Ken obtained the use of a warehouse for a test run. The panels
bolted together seamlessly, just as he had envisioned. Stretched from
end to end, the painting was more than impressive. Television cameras
covered the event and recorded a remark Ken casually tossed off while he
and Karen walked along the length of the panels. “Now I’m satisfied,” he
said. “When I die, I want you to wrap me in this thing, put me on a Viking
ship, pour gasoline over the lot, set it alight, and let me go to Valhalla with
the bloody thing.”
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