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 IDS West is the Pacific platform for all things design. From the IDS West website:

“During this annual event, occurring in September, Vancouver welcomes individual designers, artists, makers and design-centric brands to showcase their current works, concepts and products. In addition to experiencing installations and features, there were opportunities to hear from some of the design world’s most notable and talented personalities and to connect with a long list of world-class designers that either call Vancouver home, or call on Vancouver for inspiration.

“The Pacific Northwest has experienced a major designboom that has been especially embraced in Vancouver, where the design community has become vast and mighty. Now in its eleventh year, IDS West has had the utmost privilege of seeing it grow, supporting its members and championing it the world over. Below is a recap of some event highlights.”

IDS-1Hinterland Design’s booth stood out for it’s nature-inspired style, dramatic lighting, and bright wall colour.

 

IDS-2A crowd favourite, the Tidal Flux ottoman by Hinterland Design is a whimsical interpretation of crab traps.

 

IDS-3The L.A. Exchange booth, curated by Design Milk, brought some to star designers from Southern California to Vancouver.

 

IDS-4The colourful geometric offerings from Bendgoods at the L.A. Exchange booth.

 

IDS-21The show was replete with high end style and luxurious materials. A great place for guests to find inspiration for their own homes.

 

IDS-6Open Studio invited a selected group of designers to participate in a curated installation that entertains the theme of Workspace, providing each participant with 10′ x 10’ of raw space as a blank canvas. Below is a selection of the beautiful work that were on display. Alda Pereira Designs’ workspace is reminiscent of the International style movement, playing with clean lines, simple shapes and primary colours.

 

IDS-7This statue was damaged during the IDSWest opening party. Poor guy.

 

IDS-9Interior designer, Gaile Guevara, brings together a collective of makers and artisans to represent her workspace as a culmination of the community and relationships that are integral to her work.

 

IDS-19A chic yet relaxed workspace by Gillian Segal Design.

 

IDS-20Marie Joy Designs created a workspace inspired by Our Little Flower Company.

 

IDS-23Jonathan Adler draws a full crowd for his talk on design, branding, his philosophy of “irreverant luxury” and his progression in the industry from a pottery teacher in New York to becoming the founder of one of the world’s most sought-after lifestyle brands.

 

IDS-27Canadian and international designers present one-off and custom lighting, glass, ceramics, textiles and surface design in a gallery-like setting in the Studio North presentation area.

 

IDS-10The Portland Design Exchange featured designers and makers from it’s region.

 

IDS-11

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IDS-13Port + Quarter set up a cozy firepit for anyone looking to sit down and relax. Sadly, marshmallows not included.

 

IDS-8Barter Co.’s line-up combines practicality with modern forms and fine natural textures.

 

IDS-16A stately Dinner x Design set by 212 Design Inc. is inspired by the book 50 shades of Grey and features a show-stopping pendant light fixture.

 

IDS-17This Dinner x Design set by Live Edge Design recalls our inner child with a beautiful tablescape under the treehouse.

 

IDS-18Medina Design House was inspired by Spanish architect Antoni Gaudi for a “night of enchanted opulence”. Guests were mesmerized by the built-in pond and water fountain in the middle of the table.

 

Find more of Robert’s work here, and check out the IDS West website here.

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D.R.E.A.M (Design Rules Everything Around Me)

October 1st, 2015 – October 30th, 2015

Make Gallery

257 E 7th Ave, Vancouver BC

 

Make Gallery is presenting their first ever hip-hop poster show, D.R.E.A.M. (Design Rules Everything Around Me). It’s a celebration of two of their favourite things: design, and hip-hop. Great design gives a visual representation to its subject, and Make has invited 15 illustrators and designers to create original posters influenced by a hip-hop song.

 

Whether it’s parties or politics, hip-hop gives a lot of room to play. It’s a visually rich culture of sound, colour, and larger than life characters. The show draws on those elements and turns them into eye-popping spectacle. Participating designers and illustrators are Alley Kurgan, Cesar Bañares, Patrick Connelly, Jane Koo, Tierney Milne, Tina Ng, Meg Robichaud, Pamela Rounis, Camille Segur, Shawn Sepehry, Graham Smith, Katie So, Scott Strathern, Carson Ting, and Calvin Yu.

 

From plays on typography to graphic interpretations of lyrics, these posters hit on every aspect of hip-hop and design. Supported by Dominion Blue Reprographics and Framehouse, Make will be producing a run of limited edition prints of the posters. These will be available for purchase, with all sales benefiting the Community Arts Council of Vancouver.

 

Boom. A take on Wu-Tang’s classic song C.R.E.A.M., D.R.E.A.M. aims to open up the visually rich culture of hip-hop into a platform that we can all take part in. The opening reception takes place on Thursday, October 1st from 7pm – 10pm, and it’s FREE.

Make sure to check out contributions by SAD Maggers Pam Rounis (our fabulous Lead Designer), Camille Segur (the incredible Cat Issue Illustrator + Designer), and Tierney Milne (a lovely Movement Issue Contributing Artist) .

Please RSVP to helen@makeisawesome.com or via the Facebook event (and check to see the list of songs that influenced each artist to give you a glimpse of what’s in store! #drake #wu-tang #laurynhill).

SEE YOU THERE!

 

balance

Balance 2.1

Self-forgiveness is the first step to reconciliation–to love others, you must love yourself. This is a reoccurring theme in Ken Brown’s Balance 2.1, a weaving of two interconnected possessive narratives between a father and a daughter. The former of the two is off at sea while his daughter remains in her family home. Both are in need of one another’s forgiveness, but are geographically separated – and so, firstly, both parties are forced to work things out within themselves.

Balance 2.1, although feverishly cerebral and intelligent, lacks a spread of aspects that help support theatre. It’s lacking character development, realism, and a forefront focus. It can be understood that the piece is meant to be one sided, meaning one of the two leads has a dynamic projection – however, the balance is lopsided, and at times, too “yelly”. 

But Balance 2.1’s reconciliation is its originality. I truly haven’t seen anything quite like it. And that, in itself, makes this play worth remembering.

Traveller

The Traveller

The best part about lone travel is also the worst, which is a perfect environment for a self-reflective piece of performance art.

That’s just what The Traveler articulates. The internal battle of right and wrong, one path from the other – growth and change, these are themes that are quite evident in this play. Max Kashetsky, the lead and only role, delivers an hour long, almost flawless monologue depicting life on the lone road, and the challenges you face when you go looking for something “raw”. The script is beautifully written. Wonderfully romantic, but also cerebral – this play is captivating. Instead of a soundtrack or cued transitory recorded tracks, Kashetsky brings his own acoustic guitar and harmonica to the narrative – bringing an intimate dynamic of a broken-hearted bar show. Feelings elicited by this performance, are accompanied by the acoustic melodies, and delivered almost instantly to the audience. The Traveler is also a little vague, and that’s okay, for travel is intrepid. Nothing is of solid state, everything is changing – and nothing is ever the same.

The Mount Pleasant Food Stories project is a growing collection of portraits, stories, and recipes gathered from people living, working, or simply eating in the neighbourhood. A collaboration between local residents Sarah Mathisen, Elanna Nolan, and Kerria Gray, the project aims to explore how food connects people to both new places and old memories. Mathisen, Nolan, and Gray gather their neighbours’ stories of family, ancestry and migration in the best way possible–over a kitchen table and a homemade meal.

 

Gabor and Eva Make Meggyleves (Fruit Soup)

“I remember that being one of my favorite meals as a kid, and it was a treat to have…”

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Gab and his mother talk over Skype on a Friday afternoon. It’s morning in Australia, from where Gab’s mother, Eva, is calling. She’s just woken up to a miserable winter’s morning. Sitting in front of the computer at Gab’s home in Mount Pleasant, it is clear we are on the opposite side of the earth. It is hot. And, it turns out, a perfect time to eat one of Gab’s favourite and most nostalgic Hungarian dishes–meggyleves–a cold sour cherry soup.

“The real cornerstone of the fruit soup is cinnamon,” Eva instructs Gab. “Cloves are also key, but not really mandatory,” she explains. “When making a fruit soup it’s really all about your taste,” and, as Eva points out, getting the beautiful pink colour of the soup just right.

As a child and new arrival in Australia from Yugoslavia, Gab would ask his mom to make his favourite soup for friends when they came to play. “I was very puzzled, because I thought it was so delicious, but my friends didn’t like it,” Gab laughs. “They’d say ‘It’s kind of strange.’” But Gab wasn’t dissuaded by their distaste for the pastel-hued soup. “A lot of the food that [Australian kids] ate was gross–like Vegemite, sausage rolls and meat pies–I was afraid of those. It made me feel okay because I found their food disgusting too.” He now reflects that fruit soup is most likely an acquired taste.

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When Eva and Laszlo moved their family to Australia in the late 1980s, they were confronted with the challenges of adapting to a new culture and a new climate. Finding a butcher who could make the right cuts of meat for Eva’s traditional Hungarian and Slovak recipes was difficult, as was the absence of Hungarian paprika on suburban supermarket shelves. Fresh cherries, which in Europe had been Eva’s fruit of choice for the fruit soup, were prohibitively expensive because they were hard to grow in an Australian climate. Eva and Gab both spoke lovingly of the abundance in their previous homes in Slovakia, Serbia, and Hungary.

From within the Australian Hungarian community Eva was able to track down a butcher, and paprika could be sought at specialty stores. While there were many challenges, Eva explains she began to find settling in Australia liberating. “I was under far less scrutiny, so I could get away with, for example, fish and chips on the beach for Christmas.” Although faced with the challenges of settling in a new place and missing the home she had just left, she also describes feeling that she had escaped from the customs and conformity she felt in Europe as a wife, mother and family cook.

During their Skype conversation Gab begins to assemble the fruit soup, excited at the access he now has to cherries here in Vancouver. As Gab tentatively pits the cherries, measures out the water, and begins to make the fruit stock, he checks in with Eva to make sure he’s doing it right. Eva enjoys cooking with Gab in this way, talking through practical details with him in the kitchen. They both tell us it makes them feel closer.

 

Emil Reflects on Tempeh, Home, and Childhood

“You show your love by feeding people…it’s almost universal in Indonesia.”

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Emil lives in a lovely little house in Mount Pleasant. We sat down together at his kitchen table one summer evening, while Emil told us about his childhood growing up in Indonesia. For Emil, the most nostalgic food that brings back memories of home is tempeh, and he often finds himself craving it: “I’m not generally the most patriotic person…but it’s one of the items that when I cook it, it’s like….home.” He finds it frustrating that it is so difficult to find it raw in Vancouver, though he’s recently found a shop in the Downtown Eastside that sells it the way he remembers. He described to us a few of the ways it is prepared in Indonesia: in thin slices soaked in brine and deep fried, then dipped in sweet soy sauce, or simply eaten with vegetables and rice. In Indonesia many households make their own tempeh, but it is also readily available and affordable in stores. Here it is relatively expensive and almost always processed. “Growing up we ate it 3-4 times a week”.

Emil’s memories of childhood are tied up with particular meals, and his descriptions give us a vivid sense of the rituals and foods that brought Emil’s family together and connected them to a broader sense of identity and place. “The thing about Indonesians is we love snacks, we will have snacks all the time and most are often deep-fried, which is a problem if you are watching your weight [laughter]… If not having meals, we will just hang out on the patio and have snacks there…maybe in jars (crackers, dry fruits) and if not that, on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon we will have fried banana with coffee and tea…especially if it’s rainy. Rainy weekends remind me of sitting on the patio eating fried banana and drinking tea and coffee.”

When he was 17 years old, Emil moved to first to Malaysia, then to Victoria, BC, then to Sydney, Australia, and then finally back to Canada where he became a permanent resident. His connections to Indonesia remain strong, and food continues to connect him with his home country. “My parents would always want me to know where I come from…so they always push me to bring lots of things from home back to here…clothes, food, crackers…[mom] really wants me never to forget, and I appreciate that now.”

 

On Saturday September 26th, Mount Pleasant Food Stories will be exhibiting some of their photos and interviews at Metamorfest. If you’re interested in being involved in the project, you can contact the organizers at www.mtpleasantfoodstories.com, email mtpleasantcooks@gmail.com or drop by Metamorfest to say hello.

 

On opening night of the Accordion Noir Festival, I sat in an airless room on the top level of the Western Front, an artist-run centre just off Main Street. The wood paneling and stuffiness felt fitting for an evening of bellows-driven music—everything about the space seemed to call back to a time before air conditioning and electric guitar. My fellow audience members were a smattering of what could loosely be called East Vancouver types: affable-looking men and women who dressed for the space in breathable layers, and who had the presence of mind to bring cash for the improvised bar. I felt like a rube, I probably looked like one, and I was very quickly losing the appetite for whimsy that had brought me to an accordion festival on a Thursday night.

accordion logo

Thankfully, for whatever else they may be, accordionists are a punctual bunch. Shortly after the listed start time, a fedoraed emcee came out, said a few words, and badabing-badaboom—we were in business. The first performance was a “spoken word opera” devised by a band of local upstarters: Elysse Cheadle, Elliot Vaughan, Aryo Khakpour, and Jonathan Kim. According to the program, the opera was “an examination of the weightlessness of dreaming, and the gravity of waking,” which sounds like it could be right. They made generous use of experimental lighting cues and sound effects—I can still hear the slurping noises that accompanied a particular birth scene. At this point, my worst fears seemed like they were coming true: this evening was going to be weird.

 

Fortunately, next came a palate cleanser in the form of Steve Normandin, a traditionalist. He is described as a master of traditional French chansons, and his background boasts credits with the Quebec Symphony Orchestra and the renowned playwright Robert LePage. The word “accordion” automatically calls to mind amiable, sturdy-looking Europeans; on this, Normandin absolutely delivers. After warming us up with a few songs, he led the audience Pied Piper-style to the sidewalk, where we did our best collective impression of a Parisian street corner. At this point, the evening’s early swelter had mellowed, and the sky had turned a lovely, bruise-y purple. The coupled among us felt compelled to dance – everyone else swayed by themselves – and my terrible mood began to crack. The combination of the night and the accordion felt a little bit perfect—Normandin could perform exclusively in East Van alleyways from now on, and he would probably do quite well for himself.

accordion fest

The final performer was Angélica Negrón, a Brooklyn-based musician and composer, whose accordion was rounded out by the xylosynth percussion of Shayna Dunkelman. Negrón is all bangs and glasses, the kind of person who seems like she can make any hobby seem cool simply via its proximity to her. One wonders if she chose a deliberately old-fashioned instrument simply to test the limits of her powers. In any case, both performers were very, very good. The blend of electronica and accordion felt – for lack of a better word – floaty, and just a touch menacing. The songs themselves spanned far-reaching, upbeat topics such as “The Disappearance of a Young Girl” and “A Happy Song About Death.” These were perfect for sitting alone in a public space and contemplating the future. Despite my early doubts, I deemed the alone-at-an-accordion-festival experiment a success.

 

If you love the idea of an accordion festival, I’d say you should go. If it sounds stupid and terrible, go anyways. Next year will mark the 9th year of Accordion Noir Fest in Vancouver; whatever your ultimate thoughts, I can predict that it will most definitely be An Experience.

 

VLAFFLOGO

SAD Mag’s Nana Heed reviews Beira-Mar, Los Hongos and A Loucura Entre Nos, three stunning films from this year’s Vancouver Latin American Film Festival. Violence, humour, heartbreak, despair–this years festival lineup was not to be missed.

 

BIERAMAR

Beira-Mar (“Seashore”)

After debuting at the Berlin Film Festival earlier this year, directors Filipe Matzembacher and Marcio Reolon brought Beira-Mar (“Seashore”) to Vancouver screens for the 2015 Latin American Film Festival. Their first feature-length film, Beira-Mar, presents a sweet inspection of sexuality, youth, family, and liberation.

Following his grandfather’s passing, our young male protagonist, Martin, and his friend Tomaz venture to southern Brazil to collect a document from distant extended family. The trip prompts the two boys to explore their relationship, while also providing Martin an opportunity to heal old wounds with his estranged family. Finally, the protagonist learns to overcome his tumultuous relationship with the sea.

Unfortunately, the slow pace of the film prevented it from inspiring the audience completely. I found it hard to stay engaged, even when I could tell the scene was meant to be meaningful for Martin. One conversation with his grandmother, for instance, is exceptionally long and communicates very little–though this moment of reconnection is clearly an important one for their relationship.

Despite its shortcomings, the film has the right ingredients and intention to be an insightful foray into adolescence. The stripped down nature of the scenes enhances the remoteness and despair Martin feels during his trip. Meanwhile, the rough, bare bones cinematography uses the qualities of the landscape to enhance Martin’s feelings toward the less-than-promising meet-up with his family.

 

LOSHONGOSRAS+CAL

Los Hongos

Los Hongos is an engaging film about two young boys, Ras and Calvin, immersing themselves deeply into the subversive world of street art. The film is set in Cali, Colombia, and the colours of the city alone make the film vibrant to watch. The story follows both boys home to their respective neighbourhoods, and then brings them back together to unfold a shared passion for something forbidden by civic authority. By the film’s conclusion, audiences will have developed an affection for both protagonists, as well as for many of the supporting, equally likeable characters.

 

Throughout the film, Calvin cares for his grandmother, who is battling cancer. The old woman is stunning–she easily wins the audience’s love–and the relationship between wizened elder and caring grandson is inspiring.

 

Ras’ mother, meanwhile, worries about her son and tries unrelentingly to bring him into the fold of her church. She disapproves of his street art, something that is hard for Ras to deal with. But as the film progresses, we learn that Ras’ mother is as lost as her son and in need of a beacon of hope. For her, this is provided by the church, while for Ras, it’s painting that provides him with this gateway to feeling alive–an escape from life’s sinister moments.

 

There is a sense of urgency to the film that concentrates itself in certain scenes. At one point,  police crack down on a painting session and become violent with the artists; at another, graphic footage from the Arab Spring protests inspire Ras and Calvin’s artwork. The two boys are later arrested while out painting. These moments of serious tension remind the audience of a collective struggle to survive and overcome oppressive systems; these scenes bring Los Hongos close to home.

 

ALOUCURA

A Loucura Entre Nós (“The Madness Among Us”)

The documentary by Fernanda Vareille takes place in Bahia, Brazil within a psychiatric hospital.  Criamundo is the name of an NGO run inside the hospital that works to reintegrate previously committed patients back into society. We listen to various patients, with a focus on two women, and get a sense from them what life is like within the walls of the psychiatric wards, what it’s like working within the program, and what their lives entail beyond the walls of the hospital.

Vareille’s depiction of her interview subjects is sensitive to avoid exploiting a vulnerable minority.  Elisangela is one of the two main interviewees with a powerful voice, a loving relationship to her daughter, and a strong desire to work hard and preserve her dignity in life.  With Elisangela, we walk through the psych ward on a ‘normal day’ and see where she sleeps, who else shares the space, and other things that happen while Vareille’s camera is rolling.  Seeing a combination of prepared interviews with various people who access Criamundo as well as what was caught on camera after Vareille seemed to have left it rolling in front of a gate, or walked through the halls holding it, builds a sense of trust towards her explorations of ‘normalcy’ and the struggle to be alive in each of us.

The film rolls along in such a way that you can be moved by each moment–there is a spectrum of humour, heartbreak, and critical commentary.  Not once is the film overly fixated on a person’s mental illness as the main point of inspection.  We become more invested in where the different interviewees wish to take us–be it the struggle to find work, or the internal struggle to identify as a person with a mental illness among other things.  I was so moved by watching this documentary and would highly recommend trying to track it down!
For more information about the Vancouver Latin American Film Festival, visit the festival website.

 

If you’d asked me last week whether I would like to spend my Friday night in a dark theatre watching homemade pornography with a bunch of strangers, my answer would have been a simple, resounding, “Never.”

But that was before I spoke to sex columnist Dan Savage about HUMP! Dirty Film Festival, an amateur porn festival that has been bringing surprise, love and laughter to audiences since 2005. Curated by Savage himself, HUMP! encourages everyday citizens to create their own homemade five-minute dirty videos for the chance to “become temporary, weekend porn stars” and win cash prizes. This year, Savage is taking the festival on a tour of the Pacific Northwest with 18 of the hottest HUMP! films in action. As always, the lineup for this year is diverse in style, content, and tone, and showcases a variety of sexual orientations, genders, and kinks. Highlights include Beethoven’s Stiff (2013), described on the HUMP! website as “precisely what would happen if your genitals dedicated themselves to classical music,” and Porn All The Time (2013), a rap video about excessive porn intake.

Needless to say, HUMP! got me curious. To find out more about the festival, I interviewed Savage for the scoop on the good, the bad, and the dirty of amateur pornography.

HUMP TOUR

SAD Mag: Why do you think that people make amateur porn?

Dan Savage: People make a porn because they want to show off, they want to share their particular things, because whatever it is that they’re interested in–whatever it is [that] turns their crank–may be underrepresented, or not represented, in commercial porn or in mainstream porn.

The porn we get at HUMP! isn’t just exhibitionist, and it isn’t just from people with a social justice point agenda. We tell people that we’re going to do our best to make sure that they’re pornstars for this weekend in this movie theatre, not pornstars for eternity on the internet. So we get a lot of films from people who wouldn’t do this if there was an online component. A lot of it is really interesting, crazy, fun films [are] being made by people who might not make porn otherwise, but want to make a really good, funny film with a nod towards porn or erotica. What you’re seeing at HUMP! is really works of art that allow for fun sex, that allow for the representation of things, acts, activities, kinks that people wouldn’t necessarily think of as erotica.

SM: But why do people want to watch amateur porn? Why come to HUMP!?

The audiences at HUMP! don’t come to sit in the theatres and masturbate; there aren’t a lot of coats in laps rising and falling. People come to watch because it’s entertaining and interesting…they want to have a laugh, they want to be shocked. They come away from HUMP! with hopefully a little bit more than that.

We watch the audience to make sure that no one’s taking photographs or videos during the screening. This is what I see: for the first eight films, the gay guys are freaking out and thrown back in their chairs because they’re watching cunnilingus; the straight guys are like, “Wow!” because they’re watching hardcore gay buttfucking; vanilla people are like, “Holy crap!” because they’re watching hardcore kink porn. [Normally] when you sit and watch porn, you click on only what you want to see; you curate it for yourself. At HUMP!, we’re clicking for you; you don’t get to click.

And then this amazing thing happens: about a third of the way through the festival, everyone starts cheering for each film. People aren’t flinching or looking away; everyone’s loving each film. For the first handful of films, all anybody can see is what’s not their thing; all anybody can see are the differences. About a third of the way, or halfway, through, everyone’s seeing what’s the same. Lust is the same, passion is the same, humour is the same, attraction is the same. Those experiences are the same. All of [what’s] underneath the incidentals–[underneath] the kinks, the genders, the orientations–all of that is exactly the same, and all of that is more important.

About halfway through, you look out and you see that same gay dude who was very elaborately freaking out the first time he saw the cunnilingus. [By] the third time he watches it, he’s…cheering and laughing and clapping with everyone else. It’s beautiful.

SM: In an interview with Vice, you refer to the HUMP! experience as “the old-fashioned way” of watching porn. What does enjoying porn publicly bring to audiences? What sets it apart from more “conventional” enjoyment?

DS: It used to be that if you wanted to see a dirty movie, you had to go to a dirty movie theatre. You were kind of outing yourself as someone with an interest in erotica or dirty movies by walking through the door. You had to own it.

Then came VHS tapes and town got its little video rental store and a little corner of it would be erotica and dirty movies. Even then you had to out yourself by walking into the dirty movie section and choosing one and taking it to the counter. People tended to be mortified.

And then along came the internet–now we can do it in secret. Porn [became] something that we do all by ourselves, all alone. We lost that communal aspect of it, we lost that having to own it, having to walk through the door and say “This is something I’m interested in. This is what I want to see.”

HUMP! brings that back. You walk through the door and you’re saying, “I have a healthy and sex-positive attitude. I want to watch these dirty movies, and I’m not embarrassed or ashamed to be seen walking into this theatre to watch these dirty movies. We’re all in this together.”

SM: To my knowledge, at least, there is still no consensus within the scientific community whether porn and sexual violence are related. Can you speak to this controversy? How does HUMP! fit in here?

DS: There’s actually a really terrific article in Scientific American called “The Sunny Side of Smut” that I think demonstrates–and there’s a growing body of evidence that demonstrates–that access to access to hardcore pornography does not fuel sexual violence. In fact, I think the opposite. When you look at the stats for sex crimes and sexual violence, those rates have been falling for decades, just as rates for other violent crimes have been falling for decades. At the same time that those rates have been falling, access to hardcore pornography have skyrocketed. If viewing hardcore pornography and violent images lead people to commit sex crimes, then we would expect the opposite to have happened.

You can’t do a controlled experiment with this, you can’t lock people up all their lives and expose them to pornography and others not. But the evidence that we do have seems to indicate that what I remember people saying when I was in college in the ‘80’s–that porn is the theory, rape is the practice–just isn’t so.

I think the porn at HUMP! is often the antidote to porn that is negative, that makes people feel bad about their sexualities. The people who make films for HUMP! are making them for fun, they’re not being economically coerced, they’re not being forced. The films at HUMP! are people getting together with their friends and lovers [to] make a porno that they’re proud of and want to share with people. Not to feed their children, not to pay the rent, but to create joy.

One of the raps against porn is that it’s dehumanizing. Once a woman came up to me after watching a HUMP! screening and told me that she doesn’t really like porn. [Then she] said, “That was humanizing porn that I watched tonight, very deeply humanizing.”

SM: Do you have any advice for first time HUMP!-ers? How can they make the experience less awkward and more fun?

DS: Have a little pot, have a drink (but don’t get drunk, though!). We’ve had shows during the festival where people will go out and get drunk and then come to the show, and I don’t necessarily recommend that. We’ve had people throw up.

Just come with friends and don’t be afraid. In all those almost dozen years we’ve been doing HUMP!, we’ve only once had to ask someone to stop giving a blowjob during the screening; the genitals are going to be up on the screen.

One of the rules at HUMP! is no assholes in the seats, assholes on the screen. We have a very strictly enforced policy of no catcalling, no jokes made at the expense of the bodies, the genders, the sexual orientations, the gender expression, the kinks, the colours, the shapes, the size of the body modifications, the anythings of the people up on the screen. People will gasp and clap and react, but [there will be] no assholes in the theatre, [only] assholes on the screen.

HUMP! comes to Vancouver’s Rio Theatre on September 18 & 19. Tickets and showtimes available here.

climb_image_croppedAn aerial rope is a surprisingly diverse prop. Accompanied onstage by only two plain white folding chairs, some sheets, and a small blue ball, the aerial rope ascends into the rafters, drawing the eye up and revealing a terrifying mass of negative space. In CLIMB, Esther de Monteflores commands that space with ease, twisting the aerial rope to her every need. De Monteflores’s range of expression with a singular rope is both impressive and stunningly beautiful, bringing meaning to the constant coiling and uncoiling of the rope. At times a cradle, a crutch, and at others a restraint, its tail end thumps against the stage like a unifying heartbeat.

De Monteflores’s acrobatics are accompanied by Meredith Hambrock’s brilliant writing in the form of voice over, bringing five different moments to life through movement, sound, and story. Hambrock’s vignettes are equal parts poetic, profound, and tragically hilarious. The decision to alternate narrators was refreshing for such a visual performance, though it did impede slightly on the cohesion of the different stories. Nonetheless, each narrative was compelling in its content and its interpretation by de Monteflores.

While the story for Adolescence was my personal favourite (it’s too good to be spoiled here), de Monteflores’s treatment of Old Age was nuanced, a delicate balance of vulnerability, delicacy, and grace. The choice to switch from aerial rope to slack rope here was apt. The switch over made for a fitting conclusion, though it would have been nice to have seen more slack rope throughout the performance, considering de Monteflores’s mastery of it.

De Monteflores’s physical performance and Hambrock’s story are strung together beautifully by Aaron Read’s score; the tension and drama of the string instruments function as a perfect parallel to de Monteflores’s use of the aerial and slack rope.

Another unexpected delight was the decision to keep de Monteflores on stage during costume changes. The choice makes sense from a practical standpoint, but also brought an intimacy to the actions. These moments turned audience members into voyeurs, enhanced by Hambrock’s eerie narration: “at any given moment you are being watched.”

For both veterans of acrobatics, and newcomers like myself, CLIMB offers a compelling, intimate, and lovably weird alternative to the way we normally experience stories and will certainly be a standout at this year’s Fringe.

 

CLIMB is part of the 2015 Vancouver Fringe Festival and can be seen at the Cultch Historic Theatre until September 20. Tickets are available online. For more on the Fringe, check out the festival website.

Vancouver won’t stop growing: expanding outward and spiraling back in, rebranding old neighbourhoods and finding names and spaces for new ones. New people are the overlooked catalyst for all this outward change. While a fresh condo development shoots up into our field of vision, a new city dweller slips easily into the periphery.

Zakir Jamal Suleman, director of The Belonging Project, is attempting to bring the experience of Vancouver immigrants to the foreground. Through a series of six video interviews, posted weekly to The Belonging Project’s website, Suleman and his collaborators address the question of what it takes to belong in our notoriously antisocial city.

Zakir Jamal Suleman, director of The Belonging Project
Zakir Jamal Suleman, director of The Belonging Project

Suleman, a philosophy honours student at UBC, was inspired both by his own experience as a Second Generation Khoja Ismaili Canadian and by a 2012 report published by The Vancouver Foundation. The report claimed that one third of survey participants struggled to make friends in Vancouver, and fifty percent of recent immigrants felt the same feeling of social isolation. These results resonated with Suleman, who describes his own process of belonging in Vancouver as a complex one: “You are born here, but there are still questions–where is your culture and the culture you are living in, how do they mix, where is home for me, is it here or is it there…”

He conceived of The Belonging Project as a means to help Vancouverites combat this isolation and connect with one another. Video interviews are a uniquely immediate way to break through what Suleman calls “barriers to entry,” allowing website users to hear a stranger’s story in the physical space of their daily life. Whether you are watching on your laptop or your phone, the project website creates a virtual space for immediate intimacy. Suleman hopes that these online interviews can be more than an “abstracted story,” the goal is that “those connections be something real and something that…people can gravitate to just like a real conversation.”

The interviews are certainly real. The brave participants share a lot in their interviews: stories of depression and illness, as well as revelations about the joyfulness of finding connection. All the videos are six minutes long, a challenging timeframe to try to convey something “true to the complexity of the people we were talking about.” Despite the time constraints, everyone who worked on the project does an admirable job of covering as wide a range of experience as possible.

Tien shares his story with The Belonging Project
Tien shares his story with The Belonging Project

As important as the voices of newcomers are to the project, the experience of First Nations people in Vancouver is something the project is also intent on exploring. As Suleman says in the website’s video introduction, “Vancouver is built on the traditional lands of the Coast Salish people, so that means we are all from somewhere else.”

Ultimately, The Belonging Project aims to create a point of connection based on disconnection. Suleman explains that “we were trying to explore something that is, I think, common to everybody.” The irony of dissatisfaction is that it compels you to speak up: something Suleman has noted himself. “Think about complaining about the weather, something that people in Vancouver are champions at…I think that it is actually really great that people are dissatisfied, because you can use that dissatisfaction to motivate you [sic] to do something about it…One thing you can count on is that everyone is dissatisfied in some way.”

The Belonging Project is a model for turning discontent into connection, one that Suleman hopes will continue beyond the initial six video outline. A community gathering is planned for September 19th, a way of gauging the success of the project and attempting the tricky work of translating an online platform into real space. “We want to get people together, people who have been watching… all these stories, and get them into a room,” he explains.

As quickly as Vancouver is growing, it is still small enough for the idea of a community gathering to feel apt. By asking Vancouverites to “take a moment, grab a coffee, and meet a new neighbour,” The Belonging Project reminds us how close we really are to the people who share our city.

 

The Belonging Project will be hosting a community art show at Untitled Art Space (436 Columbia Street) on Saturday September 19th. The event runs from 6 – 11 pm. To find out more, follow The Belonging Project on Facebook or visit their website.

I walked into Stephen Cone’s Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party at last week’s Vancouver Queer Film Fest jaded by a history of over-indulging in cheesy, vaguely LGBT films. At best, I hoped the coming-of-age film about a 17-year-old white boy and his Christian family might be cute, maybe even entertaining. But instead I found Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party to be sweetly orchestrated, intricate and smart–a meaningful commentary on what it’s like to go up against an entire community.

The film centres around young, fresh-faced Henry Gamble on his 17th birthday. Our protagonist is a blossoming gay individual and is emotionally wrought over his equally fresh-faced, straight best friend. Over the course of one day and one big pool party, Henry ushers in a new year of living and, ultimately, learns how to be himself. The film alternates between adorably funny moments and disturbing ones. Audiences will remain engaged by what makes each character tick through each scene.

 

henry-gamble

 

Cone takes the audience to some pretty dark places, examining the heavier sides to growing up gay (or even just different). This is especially true for one of Henry’s guests, Logan, whose troubles are concentrated by a lack of real understanding from his church community. Everyone tiptoes around him because of an incident that happened at church camp and now, when he is most in need of true connection and support, he is left to fend for himself.

Another strength of Henry Gamble lies in its ability to poke fun at the fact that it’s so clearly situated within the upper class, white, Christian perspective. When wine is smuggled into the party by a longstanding church member and referred to as ‘medicine,’ I couldn’t help but smile. In another scene, the pastor (Henry’s dad) and a fellow church member fumble frantically for the remote control when a movie suddenly gets “inappropriate.” They heave a sigh of relief after finally switching the channel to good old football, and I laughed out loud with the rest of the audience.

Both focussed and honest, Henry Gamble is the kind of movie about young people growing up I wish I’d had as a young person growing up.  Even watching now, in my mid-twenties, I felt I could take a lesson from the struggles of some of Henry’s guests, slightly older but equally well-portrayed as the younger ones.

 

Find out more about VQFF here.