Author: tempadmin

With multimedia installations, 3D projections, and more, the pop-up exhibition delves into the complexity of queerness

BY GAIL JOHNSON, STIR VANCOUVER

SUM gallery and the Flavourcel Animation Collective present Centipede at the Sun Wah Centre April 7 to 9 from 12 to 6 pm. A closing reception takes place April 9 from 3 to 5 pm. 

QUICK: THINK OF A centipede. What’s your gut reaction? Are you freaked out by the thought of a super-long creepy crawlie? Or are you fascinated by how so many sections of a single organism can move independently yet together? For local artists Benjamin Siegl and Harlo Martens, the “hundred-legger”, as it’s sometimes called, is more than a mere arthropod, whether it gives you the heebie-jeebies or not. It is, for one, a metaphor for the collective journey queer people go on when finding their place this world, one step at a time; the centipede is also a metaphor for the animated image, as it unfolds frame by frame. It’s also the name of a new multisensory, experimental pop-up exhibition where people are invited to crawl down into the dark depths of the Sun Wah Centre basement to experience “queerly macabre experimental animation”. 

Centipede is a collaboration between SUM gallery, one of the only permanent spaces on the planet dedicated to the presentation of queer art, and the Flavourcel Animation Collective,  a group of 10 artists who work collaboratively on everything from GIFs to music videos to print-media projects. Curated by Siegl, Queer Arts Festival’s assistant curator, the exhibition incorporates multimedia installation, 3D projection, soundscapes, and more, all to explore what it means to be queer today.

“We know that animation lends itself well to many things; however it does so particularly well to themes of the grotesque since we are in the business of creating illusions, which are inherently optically uncanny,” explains Martens, a Flavourcel member. “In this way, we might think of animation as a queer medium: It has the ability to take up several elemental aspects at once including light, time, space, sound, and interactiveness, especially within an environment like Sun Wah Building, where there is quite a lot of projection capacity and a rich queer history embedded into the space.

“There is a kind of natural delightfulness that is very complimentary to the macabre in animation,” Martens adds. “I find this contradiction between tones and feelings really interesting in our work, because it puts into perspective that our lives as queer and trans animators is complicated—our joy and our pain will always go hand-in-hand.” “There is quite a broad spectrum of haunting that comes with being queer.”

There will be a range of experimental animation techniques and installations found throughout the space. As participants walk around, they will shift between different pieces of sound, light, and movement. 

“What can the audience expect? A fun, immersive experience in a dark damp space with weird sounds and lights—I mean, generally,” Siegl says with a laugh. “Creepy visuals, a distinctly retro-vibe, and spaces for reflection…. The exhibit really challenges conventional ideas of what animation can be or look like. 

“From my perspective, and I would think the collective would agree, ‘experimental animation’ is way cool, a totally underappreciated medium,” Siegl adds, “and deserves much more representation and recognition than it currently receives, as do artists and animators who are struggling to find their place within the animation industry.”

Spooky and enchanting, Centipede explores the way queer movement was, for so long, relegated to life’s dark corners, whether in urban spaces or people’s own minds. And while queerness is slowly stepping closer to the light, its painful history is ever present.

“Because animation is so flexible, the result can often come painfully close to our real feelings,” Martens says. “There is quite a broad spectrum of haunting that comes with being queer. We can really feel trauma in our bodies, whether directly personal or as a trickle down of our historical queer necropolitical experiences. Our fears can be deeply caustic, sore, and dissociative. Our fears can be tied to specific events, or they can occur without notice and without reason. Our fears can be connected very closely to our love, to our anger, to our loss and to our power. A lot of us are also especially drawn to the idea of queer mourning/death and how we are perceived.

Siegl adds that queerness is complex: “Our joy and our pain will always go hand-in-hand. I wonder how we define this pain, where it comes from, and how to carry it into the future we aspire for ourselves. Contemporary queerness is entrenched in the past, and every queer person knows what it’s like to confront that ghost—how do we honour it, make peace with it, understand it? How do we protect ourselves and our future from it? It’s hard.”

Maybe the centipede metaphor is apt here, too. As Martens puts it: “When you are looking at Centipede, you are seeing the beauty of our singular work while also seeing how we work together and move forward together through our own obstacles.”

For more information, see https://sumgallery.ca.  

by Steve Newton, Georgia Straight on February 24th, 2022

Live music is back big-time in Vancouver this spring with a wide range of in-person performances presented by companies like the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, Early Music Vancouver, Music on Main, the UBC School of Music, the Friends of Chamber Music, and the Vancouver Recital Society.

Queering the Air: Mignon at the SUM Gallery, February 25. Mignon, a non-binary icon of German Romanticism, is brought to life through the music of Zelter, Schubert, Schumann, and Wolf, performed by soprano Sarah Jo Kirsch and pianist Tina Chang.

VSO/Chooi Plays Mendelssohn at the Orpheum Theatre, February 25 and 26. Music director Otto Tausk leads the VSO and violinist Nikki Chooi in a program of works by Mendelssohn (Violin Concerto, Op. 64, E Minor), Linda Catlin Smith (Tableau, VSO Commission 2021), and Robert Schumann (Symphony No. 2, Op 61, C Major).

VSO/Chooi Plays Mendelssohn at the Orpheum Theatre, February 25 and 26. Music director Otto Tausk leads the VSO and violinist Nikki Chooi in a program of works by Mendelssohn (Violin Concerto, Op. 64, E Minor), Linda Catlin Smith (Tableau, VSO Commission 2021), and Robert Schumann (Symphony No. 2, Op 61, C Major).https://76951f3258f2dc75494e70c1bffe8c47.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-38/html/container.html

Rhapsody and the Blues at the Kay Meek Arts Centre, February 26. Vancouver premiere of a new arrangement of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue with Jazz Big Band, plus music of Duke Ellington, Oscar Peterson, and Nat King Cole.

Safia Nolin at Studio 16, February 26. As part of the Nouvelle Scène concert series, Le Centre culturel francophone de Vancouver presents Québecoise indie-folk singer-songwriter.

Inhale/Exhale at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts, February 26 and 27. The Turning Point Ensemble presents major new works by composers Taylor Brook and Nova Pon, plus music by Arcade Fire multi-instrumentalist Richard Reed Parry.

Rufus Lin at Lulu Island Winery, February 27. International jazz concert pianist Rufus Lin performs as part of the Live Jazz at the Winery recital series.

Sisters in Jazz Day at the VSO School of Music, February 27. Jazz workshops and jam sessions with Jodi Proznick, Amanda Tosoff, Laura Anglade, and Virginia Frigault-MacDonald.

Cellobration! at the Anvil Centre, February 27. The Vancouver Chamber Music Society presents Israeli-American cellist Amit Peled performing with pianist Noreen Polera.

Kits Classics + Worlds Beyond at Mel Lehan Hall at St. James, February 27. Clarinetist Johanna Hauser, cellist Olivia Blander, and pianist Anna Levy perform works by Brahms, Sumera, and Bloch.

Castalian String Quartet at the Vancouver Playhouse, February 27. The Vancouver Recital Society presents London-based quartet in a program of works by Haydn (String Quartet in D minor, Op. 76, No. 2 “Fifths”), Fanny Mendelssohn (String Quartet in E-flat major), and Schubert (String Quartet No. 15 in G major, D. 887).

VAMSO: Brahms Symphony No. 3 at the Orpheum Theatre, February 27. The Vancouver Academy of Music Symphony Orchestra presents performances of Wagner’s symphonic poem Siegfried Idyll, Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D minor, and Brahms’ Symphony No. 3, conducted by Ian Parker.

Benewitz Quartet at the Vancouver Playhouse, March 1. The Friends of Chamber Music present a program of works by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (String Quartet No. 4 in C major, KV157), Felix Mendelssohn (Quartet No. 2 in A minor, Opus 13), and Antonín Dvořák (String Quartet No.13 in G major, Opus 106).

VSO/Peer Gynt at the Orpheum Theatre, March 3. Conductor Anna Rakitina and host Christopher Gaze join the Vancouver Symphony in Edvard Grieg’s charming suite from the Ibsen play.

Aljoša Jurinić at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts, March 2. Croatian classical pianist performs works by Ludwig van Beethoven (Sonata No. 21 in C major “Waldstein”) and Frédéric Chopin (Ballade in F major, Op. 38; Nocturne in D flat major, Op. 27, No. 2; and Ballade in G minor, Op. 23).

Read the full article here.

BY GAIL JOHNSON, STIR VANCOUVER

SUM gallery presents Sovereignty by Duane Isaac from February 17 to May 14.

MI’GMAQ ARTIST DUANE Isaac fuses photography with contemporary fantastical masks, his work informed by Indigenous knowledge and the queer gaze.

SUM gallery opens its 2022 season with Sovereignty, the Listuguj, Quebec-based photographer and mask-maker’s first solo exhibition in Vancouver. Featuring a series of portraits documenting the Indigenous body in nature, the show speaks to Indigenous and environmental health and survival.

Curated by SUM gallery founding artistic director emeritus SD Holman, Sovereignty is part of the 2022 Capture Photography Festival Selected Exhibition Program.

Stir connected with Isaac to hear more.

Speaking generally, what is it about masks that attracts you and motivated you to incorporate this form into your photography?

People often connect through eye contact, even through a photo the eyes are often inviting. Obscuring this connection forces the mind to look for other things to connect to. I think it’s also a matter of fantasy, that the person behind the mask is a stranger. While the photos are intimate, you really don’t know who’s behind the mask.

Can you tell us about the creative process behind them?

I’ve developed my process over the years. Lots of trial and error. First thing I do is create a basic shape. Every mask begins the same way. Then I decide on outer features that extrude from the mask itself. Ears, horns, random geometric shapes? There’s no limitation but imagination. My materials are either made by me via molds, or items I’ve amassed through various means—yard sales, art-supply stores, etc.

As far as details go, I love baroque design elements. You’ll find my work adorned with cherubs, skulls, insects, roses, and pearls. I love monsters, the occult and anime/cartoonish villain of the week creatures. I like the idea of a beautiful monster or beautiful villain.

So many horror movies use masks for the main character, making them especially terrifying. Do you draw from the genre? 

I am definitely a horror fan. I remember growing up with Ghostface, Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, Leatherface, to name a few. All the greats had a mask. Those elements are definitely an inspiration. Again I’d refer back to my point about obscured faces. You can’t connect to the “human” of a masked villain. There is reason to fear that. I also feel like masks can also bring out the things we wouldn’t normally do without the anonymity they provide. 

In Sovereignty, the figure’s mask is said to represent dualism, Indigenous identity as inseparable from and equal to the Land. Can you tell us more? 

Historically, Indigenous people have been the stewards of this land. We take care of the land and it takes care of us. It has always been that way. We need it in more ways than it needs us. We need food, water, and medicines. All provided by the land. If the land is sick, we are sick. One prime example would be the many reservations under boil-advisory orders.

The exhibition speaks to sovereignty under threat. Can you expand on this? 

So much of the unceded territory in Canada is subjected to devastation from things like chemical waste runoff or rampant expansion of resource extraction. Reserve lands are often in proximity to sites used for pipelines, natural gas exploration, and factories. Often these projects involve “man camps”, which have a troubling link to MMIW [Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls]. 

How do your Indigenous ancestry and queerness inform your work?

For years I’ve had this self imposed ostracism from my culture. I felt unaccepted by it because of the anxiety surrounding my sexual orientation. It’s definitely not the typical idea when you think of “Indigenous, or Mi’gmaq, art”. Whenever there’s a call for Indigenous artists, it’s always almost a fetishist expectation of beads, feathers and leather. That’s not to say these aspects aren’t important, they are. I envy those who have these beautiful talents. Sometimes I feel like a fraud compared to them. I appreciate and celebrate every artist who works to preserve, promote and progress traditional craft. My work is definitely through an Indigenous lens though. I am Mi’gmaq, I have spent my entire life surrounded by my culture, in proximity to ceremony, and listening to the language. This will always come through my work.

With the Indigenous lens, there is also a queer lens. It’s again brought through lived experience. I feel this comes through in the fantasy aspects and celebration of the male physique.

For more information, see SUM gallery.