26 years and still going strong, The Vancouver Queer Film Festival prides itself in presenting over 80 films ranging from Disco-themed coming of age stories to musicals about Grinder. As per usual, the film festival is jam-packed with stellar queer films interlaced with gala events and parties where you can brush shoulders with local filmmakers, or just have a few cocktails on the dance-floor. And if your bank-account is still in recovery-mode post-pride, there is a 2 films for $20 promo available online through the festival webpage.

Sad Mag has cruised the program for you, watched a shit-ton of trailers, and made some well-informed recommendations. Here are our QFF 2014 MUST-SEES:

There’s something about an outdoor theatre experience that can’t quite be matched. While Bard on the Beach isn’t entirely set under the stars (would be a bit of a poor decision in Vancouver’s climate), the keyhole view to the outside world through the back of the stage always adds some extra interest to the carefully crafted and artfully conceived renditions of Shakespearian works.

I first remember seeing A Midsummer Night’s Dream outside as well, but as a one-time student production on the castle ground of Royal Roads University in Victoria. I don’t remember much of this production—I was 12 at the time—but what I do remember is the way the natural light enhanced the production. Well that, and the fairies.

Bard’s production, though with a little more power behind it than a student production, was also memorable for both the setting and the acting, fairies included. The minimalist stage provided the perfect backdrop to the most incredible costumes. They consisted of bustles, patterned tights, brocade, shimmery sheer skirts, and more, each one more intricate and detailed than the last. The costumes of the fairies were a perfect fit to the comedic relief their roles brought to the tense, but still humorous love stories in the play. Overall, the aesthetic of the play was simple and beautiful with key props being used to transform the stage into everything from a forest to a celebratory party. The makeup and hair were also flawlessly integrated into the aesthetic of the play—everything seemed to flow so nicely together.

For me, the most notable part of the show was the integration of the classical Shakespearian script with current elements, like music and references. The fairies were the main source of this with references to Prince, Iggy Azaelea and more. I’ve always appreciated Bard’s effort in making their performances accessible and this show was no different. As previously mentioned, this show had a particular flow about it. Though I did get a bit lost with the language at first (I’ve never been the hugest Shakespearian aficionado), I got my bearings and was throughly impressed at how understandable the cast made the classic tale, and really, how funny they made it all. As one of Shakepeare’s comedies, I was expecting a chuckle or two, but this rendition warranted a few full on guffaws. In fact, I did see a few more mature ladies clutching their pearls in hysterics. They really amped up the comedy and blended it seamlessly with the tale.

Along with delivering an excellent show, this year is also a special year for Bard for another reason—it’s turning 25. Head down to Vanier Park, celebrate a milestone for a Vancouver cultural institution, take in the scenery, and enjoy a play. I recommend the Bard-B-Q if you’re looking for a primo fireworks seat.

One moody April morning, Sophia Ahamed met with Sad Mag writer Maddie Reddon at Gene Café on Main Street. Ahamed’s work has been featured in a variety of hip publications like Juxtapoz, Color Magazine, Semi-Permanent, Design is Kinky, and (of course, yours truly) Sad Mag. But this year her work has also been up blowing up all over Vancouver in many local galleries and art shows. You might already be familiar with some of them: Hot One Inch Action, Post Up, the Postcard Show VII, and the Primacy of Consciousness. With much more work set to delight-and-disturb Vancouver in the next coming months, Ahamed spared some her time to chat with us over coffee.

Sad Mag: Who are you?

Sophia Ahamed: [Laughs.] That’s a really scary question. I guess in terms of a career, I’m a graphic designer and a visual artist. As for who I am as a person, I’m still searching for that girl. We’ll see who I think I am, like maybe in the next couple years, when I become Zen.

SM:  [Laughs.] I’ve been looking up some of your work online and I’d like to talk about some of the pieces I saw of yours in the Postcard Show. Would you like to give me a little context and tell me a little about the show?

SA: It’s a really good show put on by a friend of mine, the curator Paulina Glass. She conducts a show with about forty to fifty contemporary artists, local and international, and what they do is they create original artwork that is printed on a postcard. Usually, it’s one night, or sometimes two or three night show, where you go in and you can meet some of the artists, buy these postcards, bid on them, the bidding starts at five bucks and it goes up in increments of five. It gives everybody a chance to have a good night and come home with some art that they can afford, that’s still an original piece of artwork. It’s a really beautiful concept.

SM: I thought it went really well with your work… I thought that the phantasmatic feel of some of your illustrations, their haunting quality, really fit for me with the medium of the postcard. The postcard is so ephemeral, something that’s so transitory, sometimes it doesn’t get to its destination, there’s missed communication… Could you speak a little more on how your work fits into that medium?

SA: Yeah, I mean kind of what you said! It really is something that makes you think, it hints to what it means to be alive… to send information back and forth to different countries, the postcard might get lost it. The person you’re sending it to might not be someone who you really like, it could be an ex or an ex-friend or something. It could be any one of those things. With my work, I always try to make people feel without trying to tell them what to feel. A lot of my anatomy stuff, a lot of the body work, comes from a certain place within myself that, when I put it out there, the people who look at it pick up different messages. Usually it’s a personal one.  When they look at it ‘oh this reminds me of this time of my life when blah-blah happened,’ or it reminds them of a person, or it gives them a feeling or an emotion. It’s weird because it connects you, even though the stories are different, it connects you on an emotional level. I’ve felt these emotions too. It may not be the same people or the same situations but I think that is kind of what brings you closer to your audience, “Oh I understand what this artist was feeling maybe, I kind of feel that too, even though if that’s not it exactly.” They have no idea whether it’s true or not but it kind of brings you together on a… I want to say psychic… but maybe on a mental level, which I think is very important.

SM: So even if the level that you two are on is incommensurate, it’s still nice to have a connection.

SA: Yes, I think that is true of humans, of our species anyways. We’re all connected emotionally. It doesn’t matter what your background is. I think that if we all sat down and talked about relationships, something like a common subject, all our emotions, even our experiences would be different, and the outcome different, but the emotional baggage that comes with it, happy or sad, connects us all. I think that is what really connects us as human beings.

SM: Our emotional baggage connects us! I like that… I’ve seen some of the pieces from your most recent gallery, “Milk – an abstract exploration of anatomy,” would you mind describing some of the work from this exhibit?

SA: It was a collection of all the anatomy work I’ve done and some new things. I tried to create that emotional connection by exposing the body, not by going through surrealism and nudity, which is a way that a lot of people express vulnerability. I tried to go beneath the surface and say, we all have our bodies and we all look a certain way but if you tear back the skin, and look underneath, you can see that there’s a lot of similarities. In fact, if everyone was inside out, there wouldn’t be a lot of gender and racial issues because we’d all be the same.

SM: But, also, the things that make us the same are kind of terrifying.

SA: Yeah, exactly. You start to see yourself more as an entity, more of an energy, rather than as someone who is in a body. So what I did with the show is I tried to go on a micro level. I started with a few pieces of the brain like cells, the abstract cellular, what’s going on in the inner body… Towards portraits and portraits of the body, looking at the anatomy within all that. I tried to show a process. But, at the same time, with the milk thing, I did it in an abstract way so that people don’t have to feel so committed to knowing exactly what each anatomy piece means. It’s not a biology class. You know what I mean? [Laughs.] You can kind of look at it and enjoy it and take whatever you want from it and kind of create your own ideas, emotions and feeling from it, without having to first say that this is the heart, this is the aorta…

SM: You don’t get caught up in classifications.

SA: You just get caught up in what it means to you and so that’s what I tried to do with the show.

SM: Why Milk?

SA: Because milk flows… It’s something that all of us grow up on, “drink milk, it’s good for your body.” And it is! I think that’s why I chose it because it’s free flowing… It flows through you. When I think about milk, I see white, I think about bones. I think about strong bones and I see it as a liquid, flowing throughout your body. It engulfs you, it strengthens each little part… So that’s what I thought about. I thought about having that kind of abstractness, how it strengthens the individual, again maybe not on a physical level, but on an emotional, mental, spiritual level.

SM: I’ve noticed that in several of your exhibits that you have a statement you use repeatedly that talks about the healing capacity of art. How do you see art as producing a healing? What kind of healing processes does your work seek to engage? Is it general? Do you have very specific ideas about healing?

SA: I like to leave that process open. I feel like it does. I think all art provides a healing process.

SM: But from what? The ills of society? From mental anguish?

SA: The mental and emotional. As kids we hear take care of your body and go to the gym and, that’s really important and all that, but there’s also the mental, emotional, spiritual health that people don’t touch on. It’s kind of looked as “oh whatever, just get over it,” you know when someone asks how you are doing you say good even though you feel like shit… What I mean is, art is an emotional healing process. When you stand there, look at the art, then you read the artist’s statement… Sometimes there’s this connection. That can happen with anybody’s work, anywhere. I really feel that. That makes sense to me.

SM: So sometimes art’s ability to identify a problem is what is healing.

SA: I think so. It’s one of those things. As an artist, you can paint your feelings. It’s kind of cliché… But as an artist you can paint your feelings, you can write or do poetry whatever, act out your feelings in this kind of contained way and you can share that with other people and I think that’s very powerful. Especially in today’s world when things are just getting more and more hectic. I leave it up to the person, you now, whichever way it brings them clarity, with whatever they are going through, even if it’s just run of the mill, like “I’m stressed out I need some sleep sort of thing,” it’s completely up to them. I’m just trying to invite them to be open.

SM: What’s coming up for you?

SA: A couple shows going on. A show with Jose Rivas at Hot Art/Wet City. It’s called Two Faced and it should be going up in August. I have a secondary solo show coming up at Kafka’s on Main for the Fall. So both shows will have new work. And Textbook Magazine, which launched April 24 at GWorks.