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Cynara Geissler is a triple threat: a pioneer of the fat-fashion blogging scene, an accomplished author and speaker, and a kick-ass cat mom. She also has an impressive collection of feline-adorned apparel (and her darling feline, Autumn, sports an anthropomorphic bowtie). Having recently given a talk at the local launch for the essay collection Women in Clothes, Geissler was the perfect person to converse with about the wonders of felines and femininity and what it means to combine those two elements in apparel. 

Cynara Geissler, photo by Sarah Race
Cynara Geissler, photo by Sarah Race

Megan Jenkins: Hey! Let’s talk a bit about your history in fashion blogging.

Cynara Geissler: Well I started posting outfits of the day in a LiveJournal community called Fatshionista, and it was exclusively about fat people finding fashion. There’s also a Flickr group called Wardrobe Remix, where people post their street style—that inspired me. It was great, because it was people from all over the world, people of all different races, creeds, and financial backgrounds. I was always sort of interested in fashion as a community because you’re inspired by other people around you and your style evolves because you’re pushing yourself. I was never really an individual style blogger for that reason, I prefer to be a part of collective groups, because I see it as sort of an artistic endeavour.

 

MJ: Could you tell me a bit about your work with Women in Clothes, and other projects that you’re involved in right now?

CG: I’m not actually in the book—which is funny, people just assume I’m in the book—but they invited me to come and just give a talk. So I gave a talk on something that I call “Toddler-Grandma Style.” It’s basically just about how toddlers and grandmas in society are the least viewed through the male gaze; they’re not considered sexy. There’s an episode of Glee where Kurt says, “She manages to dress like a toddler and a grandma simultaneously,” and that’s like, the ultimate insult, right? Because she doesn’t know how to sex herself up for a man, or how to be desirable. So in my talk I said that I think more people should adopt this way of dressing, because we all have these weird internalized rules that I think are mostly about dressing for the male gaze. And I think that when you start dressing outside of that, you just start to have way more fun. People would always say to me, “You can pull that off,” and it would leave me thinking, “Well no, I don’t have a VIP pass or something that allows me to do it. I just do it.”

[I also] just sort of encouraged people to wear a million brooches, or wear more than one print at a time—you don’t always have to be wearing a beige suit. That’s apparently what adult women are supposed to be wearing to be taken seriously.

And the thing about patriarchy is that you’ll never be taken seriously. It’s kind of a loser’s game. There’s this idea that if you’re close to desirable, there’s more to lose, or something like that, but the fact is that there’s always going to be people that will ignore you because you’re a woman. So you might as well dress for yourself, and dress for joy and have fun.

I’m also guest editing the Culture issue of [local magazine] Poetry is Dead, so that’s coming up.

 

MJ: Would you say that there’s been a rise in popularity of cat apparel and related items that correlates with the influx of YouTube videos?

CG: Yeah definitely, I think the advent of Lolcats especially is tied into the popularity of cat-printed items. It’s great for me, because it used to be hard to source really zany cat prints. I think we’re definitely in a boom for cat clothes, like with laser cats, Keyboard Cat . . . We’ve got a lot of high- powered cats now. Nyan cat, and of course Grumpy Cat, Lil’ Bub. I think it used to be like, Garfield, instead of generic cat prints. I remember there being cats on stuff but it was mostly cartoons, it was not this idea of wearing a realistic cat, which I think was really connected to spinsters. I actually just read an article on how cat imagery was used for suffragettes in Britain, around first wave feminism. Men would compare women to cats to try to infantilize them. So it’s like the existence of cat memorabilia could be found in these little pockets, but now it’s reached critical mass.

I think it could be the tools we have at our disposal now—it’s much easier to take photos, and to circulate them, and at the end of the day, cats are funny, and warm, and they do dumb stuff and try to fit in really small boxes. When I was growing up, I’d never have known about Maru, in Japan, but now we get to enjoy the circulation of images and videos from all over the world.

 

MJ: Do you think that the cat lady image has been reclaimed? 

CG: I do, actually. I think the whole cat image is that you’re supposed to be like a sex kitten, which of course is fine to adopt if you so choose, but then if you’re not a cute cat, you’re a weird cat spinster lady. Like from The Simpsons.

I think Taylor Swift and her kitten Olivia Benson kind of signals a young, cool cat lady and there’s no longer this automatic association with spinsterhood. Now I think we can all sort of joke about it, whereas a few years ago you might have been hesitant to be associated with that at all, at the risk of your dating prospects, you know?

But I don’t think it’s just women who enjoy cat-printed items either now, like Urban Outfitters has put out cat-printed ties and button-ups [for men], so that makes me think that the image is sort of crossing gender lines too. I do think that for a really long time cats were associated with domesticity, and were feminized, while men would go out hunting with their cool hunting dogs. It’s funny to consider how cats have shifted culturally. I think they’re semiotically slippery. Like you have Hemingway Cats, which are associated with masculinity, because Ernest Hemingway had a bunch.

 

MJ: Is there solidarity in being a cat lady? 

CG: Yeah, I think so! Spinsterhood has more pride associated with it now—obviously it comes from a very antiquated, patriarchal idea that if a woman is not married by the age of 22, she’ll just be a burden to her family for the rest of her life. But we’re maybe shifting away from thinking of women as being most valuable when they’re connected to a man, so I think there’s a bit of subversion in the cat lady idea. We’re supposed to feel sorry for the cat lady, but I think that we’ve now accepted that it’s better to be happy, and single, and living as a lone woman than just settling for a crappy dude. Pet love feels very unconditional and uncomplicated in a way that trying to be with a significant other sometimes isn’t.

There’s a reason Swift is sticking with Olivia Benson, just making music and joking about being a man-eater. It’s pretty great. I’m happy if she’s the new poster girl for being a cat lady. I hope that it represents the sort of refusal to settle for a crappy guy just so that you can feel secure or feel bolstered by male approval. I think we all still sort of seek that validation—I think sometimes you’ll appreciate it more when a man compliments you rather than a woman, which shouldn’t be the case. In being a good cat lady then, I think you just have to care more when a cat compliments you. That’s worth way more.

You can follow Cynara’s general bad-assery on her twitter account. 

For the full arti­cle (and many more fab­u­lous, feline-focused reads), pick up a copy of The Cat Issue (Issue 18), in stores now at par­tic­i­pat­ing loca­tions. Sad Mag sub­scrip­tions and back issues are also avail­able through our web­site. This interview has been condensed and edited. 

33,900,000 videos of cats eating watermelon, falling off chairs, and having adorably miserable kitten nightmares.

Only after I’d peeled my eyes away from my third musical “sushi cat” video did I recognize the magnitude of what I’d just discovered: 33.9 million cat videos? To put this number into perspective, searching “Canada news” barely hits 4,760,000. Even searching for “Canada” can’t compete with the cat craze; at only 13,500,000 videos, our home and native land produces less than half the YouTube frenzy that our feline friends do.

How—how?—did sushi cats gain a larger media presence than our entire nation? Not sure whether to be awestruck, shocked, or disgusted, I turned to three experts—a media studies professor, a renowned cat researcher and a short-film director—for the scoop on society’s cat video obsession.

Dr. Christopher J. Schneider, photo by Paul Marck
Dr. Christopher Schneider, photo by Paul Marck

DR. CHRISTOPHER J. SCHNEIDER
Associate Professor, Wilfrid Laurier  University

Sad Mag: In your book, The Public Sociology Debate, you reference this interesting quote by Burroway: the “privatization of everything.” You suggest that the opposite might be happening: everything is becoming public. YouTube is just one platform we use to “publicize” life. Where do you think this obsession comes from? Why are we so obsessed with publishing our own lives? And why are we so interested in the (often banal) things others publish about theirs?  

Chris Schneider: We all want to feel important; we all want our individual selves to be recognized. Publishing, posting, and circulating the relatively mundane details of our lives accomplishes that task.

On the other hand, when other people are doing similar things, it really shows a relatability between ourselves and other people; it contributes to our feeling of normalcy. Watching cat videos, or other mundane details of our daily lives, is kind of boring. So it normalizes the boredom, and in some ways makes people feel less guilty about wasting their time watching cat videos.

SM: Many researchers believe this reliance on short-form media could shrink the viewer’s attention span. That we are so constantly bombarded with information, but have so little time to reflect on what’s going on that we don’t actually consume any of it. Do you think this is true? 

CS: I think so, sure. It’s in some ways kind of like drinking from a fire hose: its not easy to do. That’s the metaphor for the information coming into our eyeballs and trying to process it; it becomes increasingly difficult for people to make sense of all of it—which of it’s good, which of it isn’t—to critically process all of these materials. One of the outlets, I think, is distraction: ‘I’m gonna look at this cat video’, or ‘I’m gonna tweet about eating this hamburger’ Rather that trying to really focus and concentrate and pay attention to what people are saying, and where this information is coming from. It’s a basic form of escapism. Daily life—sure its mundane, sure its boring—but it’s also difficult for a lot of people….We can unplug from the difficulties of our daily lives and plug into the relatively mundane details of cat videos or other people’s lives to forget, to relax.

SM: And how about you? Do you have a favorite cat video? 

CS: Play em off, keyboard cat‘ is my favorite. 

Dr. Dennis C. Turner with a therapy cat in Japan
Dr. Dennis C. Turner with a therapy cat in Japan, photo by Junko Akiyama

DR. DENNIS C. TURNER
Director, Institute for applied Ethology and Animal Psychology (I.E.A.P/I.E.T.)

SM: You’ve been conducting research on the cat-human relationship for over 30 years; your book, The Domestic Cat, is now recognized in the field as the “Bible for cat researchers.” Why do you think cat videos have become so popular?

DT: One of the reasons I think cats are on the increase is because of what I like to call the emancipation of men; nowadays, men can express their feelings. 20, 40, or 50 years ago it wasn’t very manly to express your feelings. Cats are very emotional animals. I think men today are allowed to say they love cats.

SM: Do you agree with Dr. Schneider that cats might be one way in which we “unplug” from stress or challenges? How do cats affect our emotions? 

DT: We have many studies showing that cats are relaxing; they make people more calm, generally in a better mood; [they create] a more natural environment [in which people] lose their fears. We’ve found that cats are capable of reducing negative moods—making negative moods better—especially depression, fear, introvertedness.

SM: When you want to feel better, what do you watch? What’s your favorite cat video? 

DT: Definitely the Simon the Cat series: the one where the cat tries to wake up its owner.

Nicholas Humphries, photo by Tom Belding
Nicholas Humphries, photo by Tom Belding

NICHOLAS HUMPHRIES
Film Director & Vancouver Film School Instructor

SM: You’ve done very well with some of your short films—winning prizes at the Screamfest, the NSI Film Exchange and British Horror Film Festivals, to name a few. What, in your opinion, do viewers like best about short films?

Nick Humphries: Short content is extremely consumable. You can experience a story in a compressed amount of time. Those viral videos you’re talking about, like 6 seconds of a dramatic hamster, get play because they are short and on a very accessible platform and are therefore consumable, re-playable and shareable through social media.

SM: So why do you think YouTubers have become so interested in short, brainless cat videos?  Is there something special about cats? Or is it the “consumable” nature of the medium itself? 

NH: It’s because cats are awesome.

SM: Most important question: What’s your favorite cat video? 

NH: There’s one of a kitten having a nightmare and then the mamma cat gives it a big hug. All while sleeping. It’s pretty much the best thing on the Internet.

 

For the full article (and many more fabulous, feline-focused reads), pick up a copy of The Cat Issue (Issue 18), in stores now at participating locations. Sad Mag subscriptions and back issues are also available through our website

surraIn November we put out a call for a new Editor-in-Chief, hoping to find a talented, creative individual who wanted to join our strange, eclectic, magazine-loving family. We were floored and delighted by the responses we got from applicants, but one person stood out in particular: contributor and pal Sara Harowitz, who you might remember from her interview with Raffi in our last issue. She’ll be taking the wheel for our upcoming issue, MOVEMENT, and we couldn’t be more thrilled! Get to know her a little bit with the Q&A below, and then come say hello at our upcoming CAT issue launch party on February 21st.  – Michelle Reid

Where are you from and what do you do?
I was born and raised in Richmond (DON’T STOP READING, IT GETS BETTER, I SWEAR) and moved to Toronto to attend Ryerson University’s Journalism School. I came back to Vancouver about a year-and-a-half ago and now I live in Mount Pleasant and work as a full-time journalist and editor.

What makes you most excited about SAD Mag?
Oh man! Everything. I’m so excited to help grow the magazine and continue producing the type of wonderful work that has been done so far. I’m jazzed to be working with such a great team, and am thrilled that I get to help tell interesting, bizarre stories to all of you beautiful people.

What do you love about magazines?
Magazines are my favourite way to consume journalism, and I have a very large collection of them in my apartment. I love knowing how much thought goes into each page and seeing how each piece in an issue fits together. Magazines are beautiful, and each one is so different. They allow art and writing to come together so perfectly.

Some of the local magazines I really like are The Lab, MONTECRISTO, Vancouver Magazine, Nuvo, and BC Business. I could go on.

Who is your dream interview subject (now that you’ve already tackled Raffi?)
This is’t a very unique answer, but I would have to say Truman Capote. He seemed like the perfect combination of eccentric, honest, talkative, and insightful. I’d love to hear what funny and painfully on point things he would have to say about modern culture. I wonder what he would think of “Twilight” or Taylor Swift.

Tell us about your favourite local hangouts
As far as my ‘hood goes, places I frequent include Caffe Barney, El Caminos, and the Cascade. I’ve only been to Burdock and Co. once so I can’t call it a favourite yet, but the meal was so good that months later I’m still thinking about it. Some other places around town that I like are the Alibi Room for beers, Revolver and Black Echo for coffee, Earnest for ice cream, La Taqueria for tacos, Teaja for tea, The Diamond for cocktails, and the Oakwood for everything.

Do you have a secret talent?
I was a fairly serious dancer up until second-year university; now I take recreational classes. I still have my pointe shoes and sometimes put them on in my apartment and play around, just to remember how it feels.

If you could soundtrack your life, what song would play as you enter a room?
“I’m Real” – Jennifer Lopez ft. Ja Rule

Say hi to Sara on Insta & Twitter

"i still dream about you" by Roselina Hung
“i still dream about you” by Roselina Hung

For the month of February, all new subscribers to Sad Mag will be entered to win an exclusive print of “i still dream about you” by Roselina Hung. Each subscription counts for 2 entires! 

SUBSCRIBE NOW

 

Local artist Roselina Hung still dreams about her last cat Ari, and isn’t afraid to talk—or draw—about it. In her latest piece, i still dream about you, she incorporates these feline reveries into a poster-sized collage print, piecing together a series of hand-drawn portraits her own and others’ past cats. For ex-pet owners, Hung writes on her blog, the print might capture feelings of love, loss and obsession; but “for anyone who hasn’t owned a cat before,” she warns, “the image can propagate the idea of the ‘crazy cat lady’ ”. 

For the sake of all our self-proclaimed crazy cat readers out there, we couldn’t let this opportunity pass us by. Sad Mag sat down with Hung for the scoop on all things art, feminism, and of course…cats.

 

SM: So lets start with the basics. Where are you from? How did you get into all of this?

RH: I’m from Vancouver. I grew up here and did my undergrad at UBC in fine arts. After I finished there, I moved to London, England and I did my masters there at Saint Martins. I was there for about 3 years and then I moved back at the end of 2006.

 

SM: How did you originally get into art?

RH: I think I’ve kind of always been doing it. There was never really any doubt in my mind that this was what I was going to do. When I was growing up, I’d tell myself that I was going to do something else—you know, like a more “practical” job. But I always just kind of ended up going back to art. I just always knew.

 

SM: You’ve done some residences in some amazing places—Banff, Paris, Reykjavik—has any one place stuck with you in particular?

RH: Each one was so different. I got something different out of all of them. When I went to Paris, that was the first time I moved away from home…and the first time I moved somewhere where I didn’t speak the language. I had a studio there just off the Seine and across from the Louvre, so that was a very romantic idea of being an artist. [The residency] in Michigan was kind of like summer camp. Off in the woods, we were in cabins and there was a lagoon. We’d all come together for home-cooked meals. And the Reykjavik one was an even smaller group, and the environment there was so unlike anywhere else—almost no trees, everything’s low bush, shrubbery. Parts of it look like the moon!

 

SM: Can you tell me a little about the cat print?

RH: While I was [in Michigan] I found some fabric with all these animal heads on it. Something about it was so tacky and gross, but it also really attracted me. So I made some mock-ups with different fabrics I found—a cat one, dogs, horses.

 

SM: How did you find the cats you used?

RH: I wanted to find images with people’s pets that they didn’t have anymore—that had passed away or been given away, so I was asking people for pet photos. Not many people sent anything to me actually…I think dog people would send more. I even had people write me and say, “let me know when you do a dog one.”

 

SM: What about cats attracted you?

RH: I’ve always just liked cats, and I had a cat for a while. And my cat still comes up in my dreams—you know, every once in a while. Once you’ve had a pet and it passes away, you just always miss it.

RoselinaHung-pbkm-print
http://roselinahung.com/

 

SM: Is that the same idea behind your pretty boys kill me collection?

RH: There’s a bit of a parallel. But with the pretty boys, I guess it’s a different kind of desire and love…

 

SM: I hope so!

RH: (Laughing) A different kind. I’ve done a couple now with different [themes].

 

SM: Where do the titles come from?

RH: They’re from text messages and chats that I’ve had.

 

SM: Really? How do those pretty boys feel about it?

RH: I don’t know…I haven’t talked to any of them. In some ways, they’re so generic—anyone could say them with how people text and chat. I don’t even know that they’d know it was from them.

 

SM: It seems so much of our communication is like that these days—generic. And that we build so much of our identity through these almost anonymous texts and chats. Did you think about that while you were working on the pieces?

RH: I was interested in the way that we were communicating desire and love through these little snippets of text. There’s only so much that you can put into [them]. They aren’t even original; we’re just repeating things that we’ve seen or heard somewhere before. Kind of like lyrics from songs—clichéd and repeated.

 

SM: I also noticed that you opted for male instead of the traditional female muse for this collection. What was your intention with that?

RH: I was thinking about that a lot, actually. They had “pretty boys” in art history. A lot of times they’d be the angels or the gods—all quite young and angelic looking. But it was always men painting them. I just kind of wanted to see a woman do it.

 

SM: So, the women in your paintings, are they supposed to be you?

RH: Kind of…kind of not. They don’t look like me, but the stories are all ones that I identify with, events that have happened in my life. I put a bit of myself into it, but my identity is hidden behind those women.

 

SM: Is it hard to put so much of yourself into your work?

RH: Before, I was doing more self-portraits—I was putting way more of myself into the work. Now I can just put the work out there and stand back. It’s still personal, but not so personal that I’m…you know…taking everything personally.

 

SM: Alright, one last question for the cat aficionados out there: Do you have a favourite cat story?

RH: My cat was an indoor cat, because I used to live near the driving license place and I was afraid of letting him out. He was actually pretty big, almost 20 lbs. or so, and my bed was small. I couldn’t sleep sometimes, so every night I would close my bedroom door. For a small period of a couple months or so, I would hear my cat running around the house as soon as I went to bed. I guess he’d been chasing a necklace of mine that I had dropped on the floor, [because] in the morning, he left it at my door. A couple weeks later, he left this little artificial rose, and then the third time he left me a little teddy bear. You know how cats leave gifts for they’re owners? They’re usually dead animals. I had the best cat—he gave me romantic gifts!

 

 

Daryn Wright heads out to Lake Errock, BC to chat with Suburbia Issue artist, Shelley Stefan. Check out Stefan’s up-coming exhibition at Make Creative on Thursday August 28, 2014: Multiplicity of Self, Queer Portraits. Read the full article in Sad Mag’s Suburbia Issue, out in Fall 2014. 

Shelley Stefan stokes the fire in her wood stove.

Her small studio is an artist’s dream: heavy wooden doors open up to a tiny room filled with tubes of oil paints, a cushy armchair, and various bric-a-brac—a seventies bear lamp, an American flag. The most striking element of the space, however, are the self-portraits that cover the walls from floor to ceiling. In black charcoal, images of Stefan look back like from a broken mirror—some look angry, some sad, some pensive.

Stefan's studio in Lake Errock, BC. Photo by Daryn Wright
Stefan’s studio in Lake Errock, BC. Photo by Daryn Wright

Stefan, whose work includes “The Lesbian Effigies” (2006) and “B is for Butch” (2010),  studied at the University of Notre Dame in Indiana and the Maine College of Art, and currently teaches in the Department of Fine Arts  at the University of the Fraser Valley. Growing up in Chicago, Stefan has lived in several urban centers but now calls Lake Errock  home. The rural setting, far from a stone’s throw from the city, seems at odds with the politics of identity, sexuality, and gender at work in her paintings.

Despite this, Stefan seems at home. Throughout the interview the 40-year-old painter kept the stove, whose masonry she laid herself, well-fed with the firewood she chops and stores just outside.

Shelley Stefan: Right now I’ve got about four series on the go. In the studio here there’s a series of self-portraits—I’m aiming to do hundreds of mirror-based [self-portraiture], kind of old-school, academic, kind of dialing it back to the traditional methods of introspection.

I find there’s something really neat when there’s the human form live, and you surrender a bit of accuracy, but what you get is kind of like raw imperfect humanness that I really like. I’m working with my own face for awhile, just to see if I do this 300 times, am I seeing different elements of myself? Some of them are off, some of them are moody, and some of them look like my ancestors.

They all seem different. They’re all me looking in a mirror at different times. It’s almost embarrassing, and I think that’s the point. I’m at the point in my career where I kind of want to allow myself to be vulnerable.

Sad Mag: Self-portraiture—particularly the kind you’re doing, with a mirror—is rooted in an old art form. There seems to be a connection between this practice and the rural space you reside in. Do you think they’re related in any way?

SS: I think that there’s a part of me that’s very raw and sublime. I think that comes first. I have Italian ancestors who were artists, and that can mean many things but what it means for me is there’s this intense passionate anchor. So having my studio in a rural space like this is a way to ground and isolate that kind of passionate energy in a way that ironically isn’t ego-based. It’s almost like it’s a laboratory and I’m trying to keep the dish clear. So I guess on some level as an artist, my choice of a rural studio feels like the best substrate to tease out the rawest and purest emotion in my work. I’m really influenced by my surroundings.

SM: Through the process, have you learned anything about yourself?

SS: I’m still discovering. Through my works in the past few years I’ve discovered a lot about interiority. When I’ve been working in portraiture, I’ve realized on some level, self-portraiture, if done properly, allows for uncovering different facets.

I feel completely connected to my Italian ancestors when I paint and draw. It’s crazy. There’s something about listening to Italian opera and being in here and being like, “They get me.” When I’m painting and I’m in the middle of it and there’s Italian opera on I’m like, “Those fuckers are crazy and so am I and it’s okay, because you’re human. You’re alive on this planet.”

You can see Stefan’s work up-close and personal at her upcoming solo exhibition at Make (257 East 7th Ave) on Thursday August 28th from 7– 10pm featuring Italian-themed beverages and the musical stylings of DJ Ruggedly Handsome.

Shelley Stefan
Multiplicity of Self – Queer Portraits
August 28 to September 22, 2014

OPENING RECEPTION:Thursday August 28, 2014 from 7– 10pm

 

 

 

This spring, Sad Mag mailed disposable cameras to various Canadian electro-pop bands so we could see what they see and wander where they wander. Maya Postepski, drummer of Austra and one half of goth duo TRST, was one of the lucky participants in Sad Mag’s Disposable Camera Project.

Get a sneak peek–before Saturday’s  Mad Mad World Party–of the various objects, subjects and locales on Maya’s radar, and read her thoughts on music, feminism and feeling like a rock star.

Maya Postepski

 

ARIEL FOURNIER: Maya, you toured with Vancouver artist and musician Grimes, who holds strong opinions about stereotypes in music.  What did you think about Grimes’ open letter about sexism in the music industry? Did you identify with any of her points in particular?

MAYA POSTEPSKI: Touring with Grimes was awesome, I think what she’s doing is relevant and interesting. Her open letter was brave and refreshing. So many female artists or public figures are afraid to even say they’re Feminists—I found her letter very intelligent and compassionate, and powerful. I liked how she specifically explained how being a feminist does not make one a ‘man hater’ and how she went into details about her family, her father and brothers. Being a feminist does not make one a man hater. I am in line with that and I think the word Feminist has way too many negative connotations, which is a such a shame. Being a feminist, in my mind, means I’m looking for women and men to gain equality

AF: What was it that grabbed you about The Organ’s music before you went on tour with them?

MP: I liked the sound, the aesthetic, [and] the nostalgia in Katie’s performance of the vocals. I loved how sad and romantic the songs were. I also loved how greatly they’re crafted—the pop structures in each track are impressive and sophisticated. Each song is barely over three minutes long and hits you where it hurts. Wicked songwriting and awesome musicianship.

AF: How influential was The Organ for you?

MP: They took me on my first real tour. That’s a huge deal—I felt like a real rock star, like my dreams came true, like they saved me from all the horrible thoughts I had of failure as an artist. I felt like I was finally real, like I mattered, and that was very empowering. As a fan I was also very inspired because I finally found a band that I looked up toward, that I could relate to on some distant level, and that I believed was writing music for people like me: young, gay, and confused.

AF: Maya, we talked about how Vancouver used to be less associated with an innovative music scene in your mind. Did Vancouver seem like a more interesting place to you when you were a teenager or when you joined up with The Organ’s tour? Do you feel now that that has changed?

MP: I don’t know Vancouver intimately enough to comment that deeply but I think it’s been a city that people in Canada consider to be kind of sophisticated or fancy, bourgeoisie. I guess it’s quite expensive and getting really developed with condos and the nouveau riche, as is Toronto. With money comes innovation, so there you go. I don’t think any of that affects the art scene though. In fact, I think it draws artists away because artists are generally not wealthy so they leave and go to cheaper cities like Berlin or Montreal. I might do that soon as well, heh.

***

More photos from the Disposable Camera Project will be on display at The Gam Gallery on May 18th. Come hang out with us at the Mad Mad World Party and peruse photographs by HUMANS (Robbie Slade), MODE MODERNE, AUSTRA and CITY OF GLASS; Lauren Zbarsky, Alex Waber, Brandon Gaukel and Matty Jeronimo.

{cover photo of Maya c/o Hannah Marshall}

“Sad Mag’s Disposable Camera Project is like a behind the scenes from the folks who are in the scenes you wanna get behind.” –Katie Stewart, Sad Mag’s Creative Director.

You wouldn’t know it to look at her piercings and aqua locks, coiffed by electric shock, but Draven didn’t see a mohawk until she was 15.

Growing up in wealthy, conservative North Delta, she was surrounded by normalcy. At school she killed time by doing her friends’ makeup in the cafeteria — her talent was plain. Soon enough, the not-for-profit Burlesque collective Screaming Chicken Theatrical Society discovered her makeup skills. But when they eventually put her on stage to dance solo, she didn’t fit in. She was too scary.

“I’ve been obsessed with horror movies and blood and intestines since I was a very small child,” says Draven, who remembers refusing to turn off the television when her mother caught her absorbed in a slasher flick. “Parents take note: I went to church and wasn’t allowed to watch horror movies as a child.”

Read the full interview with Betty Draven/Bloody Betty in Sad Mag #11: The Glamour Issue, launching November 17th at W2.

Photo by Shane Oosterhoff

Moonshine is not a type of liquor, it’s a catch-all term for any spirit that has been made illegally or by using a backyard still. Whiskey, rum, brandy, vodka are all commonly referred to as moonshine if they meet the basic requirement that they are made by some guy in his backyard. People think of moonshine and 90% alcohol comes to mind (also its terrible taste). It’s true, what comes out of our still is that strong, but we pay close attention to taste and fermentation. We water it down and charcoal filter it. Finally, we age with fresh fruit and toasted oak chips to give it flavour. It doesn’t taste like a commercial product. It tastes more personal and not as neatly categorized as liquor store aisles.

The process of making liquor is a little like alchemy. The whole thing is a steam punk’s wet dream. Huge copper containers with pipe and hose jetting out every which way, steam flowing through the pipes and, somehow, dripping out pure alcohol. In actuality, it’s science 101. The entire process is based simply around the idea that alcohol and water have different boiling temperatures. We make a wine, heat it up enough to turn the alcohol into vapors and then turn the vapors back into liquid. That’s it, the rest is details.

Distilling is slow. I get up at six in the morning to turn everything on and I finish around nine in the evening. The day set aside for distilling is a sort of forced leisure, where all I can do is sit around and slowly watch alcohol accumulate drip by drip. The whole process could be an art history diagram to explain minimalism; we’re getting down to the essence of something, stripping away all the unnecessary to get to the pure form. It exists in accordance with my own life in that I need a device like this to allow leisure. I wouldn’t set aside an entire day to slow down if it was not for distilling.

We always intended this as an artwork before we started. We are not interested in the artisan craft of the distilling process, although, we have been doing it for a year and after drinking many of our “artworks” we have become significantly more concerned with the craft. Our upcoming exhibition “The Secrets of Building an Alcohol Producing Still” will bring our still to a local gallery and to ignite this project in a public and critical setting.

The Everything Co. is a collaborative art project started in Montreal. We are interested in the dichotomy of work and leisure; we see all art as a playful process of work. For now, our identities must remain anonymous because the nature of our current artwork is illegal.

The Everything Co. will be holding 12 speakeasies throughout the city at various locations in coming months. Please email everythingcothe@gmail.com to get on the mailing list and be informed of these upcoming events!

Dispatches
By Matt Roy

From Sad Mag issue 7/8.

Toronto is so big, who knew? When I moved here from Vancouver I instantly found myself a small town boy with a West Coast drawl and not the city man I claimed to be, slowly but surely mapping out the “New York of Canada,” a navigation that included sussing out the gays: “turn left on Church Street,” says my iPhone.

Ten times bigger than Vancouver in practically every way, Toronto has shown me a new version of queer, of community, of responsibility. And I’m learning a lot. For instance, it is not cool to make trans jokes because you have no inkling of who may be trans—especially the hot bear you’ve been chatting with at the bar. My ‘Couve apathy will be the death of me yet.

People take their politics seriously here. With Mayor Rob Ford planning to cut AIDS funding off at the knees, among nearly every other essential social service, queers and generally all compassionate liberal (human) souls are assembling, and I’ve been swept out to sea (or into lake I suppose). Whether I’m marching in Slut Walk, or discussing my role as queer on a rooftop deck, partially (fully) inebriated, there’s no escaping the fact that I’m now a participant and not the voyeur I once was.

Illustration: Parker McLean.

Gay in the Suburbs
By Adam Cristobal

This article appears in full in Sad Mag issue 7/8.

Everyone knows a Kurt Hummel story, a heart-felt or humorous story akin to that of Glee’s coiffed countertenor. The suburban adolescent gay male is now cliché, and his tale a quintessential part of high-school chronicles. Such a tale’s tropes have been well established: It is usually told as a tragic portrait of an outcast protagonist, brought to a dramatic climax of homophobic conflict, and peppered with awkward quips about some locker-room misunderstanding between said protagonist and some sultry classmate manifest from hormonally charged pubescent dreams.You know that story, or at least a variant of it.

But this—this is not that story. It is one thing for queer youth to grow up in the suburbs, but it is entirely another thing when LGBT families settle in the suburbs. Downtown Vancouver and San Francisco form two ends of one big West Coast rainbow, but Vancouver’s vibrant LGBT community is virtually nonexistent in our city’s suburbs. Can LGBT families settle outside the downtown core, in areas where the density of queer individuals ebbs with the density of other human beings? Is the rainbow-coloured picket fence possible, and if it is, what are its implications for the LGBT community at large?

Three years ago, Nathan Pachal and Robert Bittner tied the knot in Langley and have lived there ever since. Both husbands are in their late twenties, but neither has lived in Vancouver proper. Nathan works as a broadcast technician; Robert is a Masters candidate at the UBC Department of English. The latter commutes to campus to study queer young-adult literature. “Langley doesn’t really have a distinct LGBT community,” he tells me….

Continue reading in Sad Mag issue 7/8.

Photo: Laura Nguyen.