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Sean Parsons grew up in Fort McMurray, where he started performing in community theatre musicals at the age of nine. When he was nineteen, Sean left home to attend (and promptly drop out of) college for musical theatre, then briefly taught English in China before moving to Vancouver, where he got a Musical Theatre diploma from Capilano University. Now Sean performs regularly in Vancouver as a bearded drag queen—Beardoncé. Every Sunday, Beardoncé hosts a show called Sanctuary at 1181 on Davie Street.

Sean Parsons, photo courtesy of Matthew Burditt

Sad Mag: What was it like growing up in Fort McMurray, and doing theatre there?

Sean Parsons: It’s a weird oil sands industry town. People know what it’s all about, it’s not a cultural hub by any means, but my whole life—and longer than my whole life—they’ve had the Keyano Theatre. Each year they do a four-show season and at least two of the shows are musicals. All the community theatre I did growing up was at the Keyano. My first role was as one of the children’s ensemble in Oliver.

SM: Why do you think it is that theatre survives there?

SP: There’s nothing else to do; people are thirsty for something creative. And there’s such a community built around going to the theatre. Live performance is something that will always withstand the test of time.

SM: Why did you decide to perform drag with a beard?

SP: When I started it was a personal choice because I like having a beard myself. I knew that if I shaved my beard I would be more accepted, I wouldn’t have that “thing” against me, but I’m a very hairy person. To quote Gaston: “Every last inch of me’s covered in hair”—and if I shaved my face I’d have to shave my chest and arms and legs. A lot of Queens do that, and I give them props, but it wasn’t something I was willing to do.

SM: What training has influenced you most as a performer?

SP: The Canadian Improv Games. You have no idea what is going to happen, you try your best to prepare, rehearse in whatever way you can. I did three years of college for singing and dancing and acting but the reality of live performance is that it isn’t always going to go as planned.

While performing I have never felt like I was fucked. At this point just going with what’s happening and making it work is built into me. Often in improv you get a suggestion and you’re like “that is the worst suggestion I’ve ever received,” and you wonder how you’re going to incorporate that into the scene and then the next moment the scene is over, and you move on. It’s the same with drag, it sucks and you feel embarrassed when it doesn’t go as you had hoped, but improv teaches you to let it go. I credit that experience for so much of the foundation of who I am as drag performer.

SM: What sort of numbers do you like to perform as Beardoncé?

SP: I lean towards dark and dramatic numbers. I want to do stuff that has more impact and makes people think, rather than just be funny and sexy. But I obviously do those things as well.

My intention is to hopefully expand the perception of drag as fluffy and campy. Often, drag falls into a few stereotypes of being either super girly, bubble-gum pop, or raunchy sexy. I respect queens who attempt to elevate drag to a more artistic platform. I think drag should always be fun, and somewhat subversive, but I also believe it is an art form, and art should make people think critically about what they’re seeing.

Sean Parsons, photo courtesy of Victor Bearpark

SM: What are the things you want your performances to prompt people to think about?

SP: Well, definitely gender. Because I perform with a beard the odds are against me. A lot of drag is built around creating the illusion of gender, being “passable.” It’s an attempt to transform your masculine features away and create something super feminine. For me there’s no illusion. With the beard it’s like instantly taking that element away. But I’m also not creating something revolutionary; it’s been done before. There was this group called The Cockettes, based in San Francisco, and they performed bearded. They were these beautiful bearded hippies, in full drag face, with elaborate headpieces, covered in glitter, and often naked otherwise. I’d like to say they were inspirational when I entered the drag world, but I only recently found out about them.

SM: How do you see the drag world as it is now?

SP: There’s a big influx. RuPaul’s Drag Race has made it accessible; if you’re mildly interested you can access it. The volume of people doing drag has cracked open the preconceived notions of what drag is. There’s more room for people to play with being gory, hairy, or anything really. It used to be that unless you were a tiny little boy who had no eyebrows you weren’t doing drag. The whole definition of the art itself is changing right now. I just feel excited to be a part of that change.

SM: What do you think people see when you perform?

SP: My performance style is feminine. I’ve obsessed over pop-culture women my whole life—Janet Jackson and the litany of them, Whitney, Britney, Beyoncé—I try to play up a hyper-feminine movement style, and I always wear a corset and giant heels. So my performance encompasses all these preconceived notions of what it means to be a woman. But people are instantly taken off-guard, because they think “he’s beautiful and feminine, but this female presentation is on a very, very hairy man.”

SM: What has changed for you in the year you’ve been performing?

SP: The biggest thing that has changed is I don’t spend a month preparing every number like I used to do. I’ve come to realize I really have to pick and choose my battles. I don’t always have time to choreograph every minute of a performance, so though I still take it seriously I have become less precious with it.

SM: Do you ever feel vulnerable or nervous when you perform?

SP: I am a confident person when I get on stage, partly because I’ve been doing it for so long. I think any performer would be lying to say they don’t get nervous but I would say that once I’m on stage I’m confident. There are numbers where I feel more vulnerable than others but I’m never nervous until it’s fifteen minutes before my performance.

With the BEARDONCÉ gallery show I organized at East Van Studios this past February I did feel more vulnerable. I stacked the deck with songs that weren’t necessarily upbeat. It was music that Sean listens to rather than what Beardoncé performs. I let the recognizability go and chose stuff that resonated with me.

SM: What do you hope to leave your audience with?

SP: I want to captivate my audience and tell a story; I want them to walk away with the same buzz you get when you see a brilliant piece of live theatre, or a spectacular concert, like you were a part of something special. It’s a difficult task considering most drag shows happen on tiny stages in loud bars and your audience could care less about the show, as long as they’re consuming copious amounts of alcohol, but I like a challenge.
Beardoncé will be performing in Queer as Funk! on July 31 at the Imperial will be performing. For future events, follow Beardoncé Facebook or Twitter.

On Thursday, June 18, the front page of the Vancouver Sun illustrated the results of a recent Angus Reid poll of Vancouverites with four bright yellow emojis. One with the beaming smile represented “happy”; another, less enthused smiley stood for “comfortable,” another for “uncomfortable,” and finally, one for “miserable.” The poll focused on how Vancouver residents felt about their current housing and transportation situations. Someone with my demographics (a renter aged 18-34 with a university education) was apparently inclined to be thoroughly miserable. The “happy” category described my parents: retired with no daily commute and living in a mortgage free home purchased before 2000. Would I only achieve happiness in some kind of Freaky Friday scenario where I assumed the lives of the people who raised me?

As luck would have it, I was headed to the Museum of Vancouver that night for a Happy Hour talk on Money and Happiness. Researcher Ashley Whillans, who works out of UBC Department of Psychology’s “Happy Lab”, presented her findings on the relationship between money, time and happiness in a twenty minute lecture. Her first core finding was that those who use money to outsource tasks they dread experience a boost in happiness. Technology has made it possible for those with the time and inclination to connect with those who are willing to pay for comfort. Whillans’ conclusion seems especially relevant given the rise of Uber and the sharing economy.

Maybe money can buy happiness after all? Whillans’ research certainly seems to suggest it does; she presented data from another study in which study participants demonstrated a greater increase in happiness when they spent money on others rather than on themselves. Interestingly, these participants were horrible at predicting what would make them happy. Given the choice between spending their money on themselves or on others, the majority predicted that spending the designated cash on themselves would yield the greatest boost in well-being, when just the opposite proved true. Perhaps I need to stop looking to Hollywood for happiness; the answer might be as simple as hiring someone to scrub my toilet next weekend while I treat my nearest and dearest to mimosas.

Ms. Whillans also referenced Vancouver’s last place ranking in a nationwide poll of happy cities, along with The Economist’s recent pronouncement that our city is “mind-numbingly boring”. Part of the mandate of the MOV’s Happy Hour talks is to foster dialogue and mingling amongst our citizens. The palatable length of the presentation and the presence of a bar created an informal vibe. But the true inspiration for the Happy Hour concept comes from the Museum’s current exhibit, Stefan Sagmeister: The Happy Show, curated by Claudia Gould. The exhibit, which opened on April 23 and runs until September 7, displays the award-winning Austrian designer’s decade long exploration of what happiness is and his own quest to attain it. With a giant inflatable monkey, walls covered in academic study results and clips from Sagmeister’s upcoming documentary The Happy Film, the multi-media show engages visitors in a myriad of ways. Museum-goers are invited to experience a personal journey towards happiness, filled with memories and musings unique to Sagmeister, but end up recognizing his yearning as their own. The exhibit taps into a universal struggle: it seems that as long as there have been people, people have had a problem being happy.

I may not have exited the museum that evening with a prescription for happiness, but I did have many new ideas to consider. My friend and I stood in a surprising summer rain shower and contemplated what bus route to take back to our rented apartments. A yellow taxi approached and without much deliberation, we hailed it. For a few dollars each we got to forgo a long damp ride on transit. As I watched our wet, boring city glide past from the back seat, I was happy. For a while, anyway.

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.

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.

A dog sneezed and I heard its tongue slap off of its lips and snout as it walked by. The sun rested heavy on my body like the extra blanket my grandma would always insist I use over an already sweltering down comforter, “just in case it got chilly.” The group to my right was laughing and drinking beer and so was the group to my left. I felt the former were having a better time—topical humour and a charming duo of duelling Scottish accents swung it in their favour. I didn’t need to open my eyes to see how beautiful it was outside. The park was teeming with sounds of life, the grass was soft and the only thing I had to worry about was maybe getting shit on by a bird.

Dear SAD fans,

SADCAST, the self-proclaimed “sideboob” of SAD Mag, has just released two new, stacked episodes, just for you. Produced and hosted by Jackie Hoffart and co-hosted by SAD Mag’s own Pamela Rounis, SADCAST is (at the moment) a kind of Slate Culture Gabfest meets Getting Doug with High, Vancouver version.

Episode 11: What’s Your Deal? With Pamela Rounis Recorded in February 2015, Jackie sits down with SAD Mag designer (and friend and neighbour) Pamela Rounis. We talk about the ’90’s, spooning dreams, designer eyes, and…we discuss podcasts. Enjoy!

Episode 12: Pressing Record, White Iverson & iTunes Playlists The mini-episode in which Jackie and Pam reminisce about the episode they JUST recorded but didn’t actually record. UGH. We rally to talk nebulizers, mochi, and soap. Plus a wicked delicious summer jam.

Check out more strange, eclectic and refreshingly honest episodes at SadCast.ca, or, better yet, subscribe.

Talking Heads is an interview column devoted to contemporary arts and culture in Vancouver. Once a month, Sad Mag’s Helen Wong sits down with a couple of interesting, unique individuals to discuss a topic of her choosing. This month’s topic? The vibrant and un-politically-minded talent of Vancouver’s own Andy Dixon.

I recently had the opportunity to interview the multitalented musician, designer, painter, and creator Andy Dixon. We discuss some of the themes in his artistic practice as well as some of his influences and past experiences. Andy’s show ‘Canadiana’ just wrapped up at Initial Gallery where he played on themes and tropes prevalent in the works of the Group of Seven. Andy’s signature style brings out a subversive take on traditional readings of cultural texts, and more of his work can be found and fawned over on his website.

Helen Wong: Tell me about yourself. How did you first get involved with the arts?

Andy Dixon: I’ve always been drawn to visual art, honestly. Some of my earliest memories are of drawing and making comics. For a large portion of my life, my interests swerved towards music, but I continued to always do a little bit of drawing and painting when I could. During my time in bands, I was often the member elected to make album covers, t-shirts, etc so that kept the flame going.

HW: Who are some of the biggest influences in your art?

AD: It’s hard to know where to begin! David Hockney, Matisse, Jonas Wood, Cy Twombly, Nolan Hendrickson, Jean Dubuffet, Manet, Caravaggio…

HW: How did your initial role in album design spiral into painting?

AD: I actually think it’s not quite true to call album design an initial role. At a certain age and era of my life many things were working in tandem with one another. While I was designing album covers, I was simultaneously showing work at places like Misanthropy Gallery and Grace Gallery. I guess, as is common with the natural flow of life, design tapered off and painting gained momentum – it’s most likely my penchant for complete creative freedom that propelled me in that direction.

HW: How do you incorporate your graphic design background in your paintings?

AD: I think my background in design helped inform my compositional skills and, maybe more importantly, my sense of colour. I think that, after an almost decade of designing, I had a strong personal pallet that I continue to use today.

HW: In an interview with Huffington Post you state your work in “Canadiana” propagates a “great conversation”. Can you expand on this notion?

AD: Yes, it’s not just the Canadiana series that I’ve mentioned The Great Conversation. It’s been a part of my work for many years prior and continues to be a strong theme today. It’s the idea that everything we do is an allusion to our predecessors whether we like it or not. I was, at one time, an arrogant punk kid that thought that what I did creatively was completely removed from historical contexts but, as I got older, and realized that culture doesn’t exist in a vacuum (I only thought it did because I hadn’t experienced enough of it yet to make certain connections), I understood the absurdity of such an idea.

Now I use fine art tropes as a vehicle for my work much like modern music producers sample recognizable bits of music (recognizable as a specific riff or melody, or merely the suggestion of something we are familiar with – a certain guitar tone, or a symphonic string swell) to simultaneously join in on the Great Conversation but also to play with the intentions of the initial artist.

Canadiana at FIELD Gallery by Andy Dixon — Canadiana at FIELD Contemporary by Andy Dixon

HW: How do you play around with Canadian symbols and icons? Do you think you are propelling notions of nationalism?

AD: There’s definitely nothing nationalistic in the Canadiana series, but there’s nothing anti-nationalistic in there, either, just as Jay-Z’s Hard Knock Life, which samples Annie, isn’t pro or anti broadway musical. The point of my work isn’t to bolster up or pull down any of the subjects. Instead, it’s to play with pop culture’s expectations using tropes as a way to draw out the viewers own beliefs and judgements.

HW: I believe a lot of the art made famous by the Group of Seven effaces issues of First Native land claims in their portrayal of untouched and barren land ready to be colonized. Do you think your work serves to subvert these issues especially with your artistic style?

AD: The subversive quality in my work is generally only in regards to the artist’s original intentions, or it’s place in pop culture, as opposed to political theories imposed on the work by others. The only political message in my work exists in the fact that there is no political message in my work.

HW: In the [same] Huffington Post interview, I like that you compared your use of house paint to a bad amplifier. Are there other ways in which music and art intersect in your work?

AD: Definitely. Everything I do has an undeniable shadow of the things I learned in the punk scene. I think the most important theme is that, in punk music, academically defined technical prowess isn’t often a goal. The punk music I made wasn’t about impressing an audience with raging guitar solos – it was about tapping into a certain energy and portraying certain emotions. Anyone can lock themselves in their room for years and learn how to play their guitar faster and tighter, but it doesn’t mean that he or she will make good music – music that can make someone feel something. I learned at an early age that technical doesn’t mean good, and I have been on a quest to define that magical thing that makes art actually good ever since.

HW: I think back to the composer Arnold Schoenberg and the influence his atonal music had for Kandinsky. In a sense, I feel that you act as your own Schoenberg and Kandinsky with your use of dissonant noises and off key notes during your time at d.b.s. and as a DJ. Do you think this idea applies to your practice?

AD: It’s possible, yes, that I have a certain penchant for dissonance which translates visually as well, but I also think that a lot of the music I’ve made in the past is actually quite melodic. I do agree with you, though, that I am both musician and artist, playing off one another, in a way.

HW: What’s next for Andy Dixon?

AD: I’ve just relocated to New York for an undetermined amount of time. I have a solo exhibit here in November and have begun working on it. Other than that, my plan is to paint every day and continue exploring the themes currently present in my work.

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 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, 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
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.

You’re not the first to complain that Vancouver is no fun. You don’t like stretch pants. You don’t like gluten-free liars. You don’t like little dogs (you’re a sicko). That said, it’s true, there are some limitations to our fair city. We can’t drink outside. And we can’t bring dogs to the pub. You’re thinking of London, England. Sorry, but I’ve never seen a British comedy that I “got.”

Yet, every night of the week in Vancouver there is a room full of amazing comics baring their hilarious souls for you. Bet you didn’t know that. Every single night, all over the city.

You may not have known it before, but Vancouver is teeming with talented comedians you are going to wish you swiped right for once they get famous. And just like when you find out your cousin’s boyfriend’s brother’s friend does comedy, we’re going to ask them why they do what they do.

This month I sit down with comic Mark Hughes, and we talk about getting on stage for the first time, and the world of dark and dirty niche comedy.

Kristine Sostar McLellan: What’s the first thing people ask you when they find out you’re a comic?

Mark Hughes: Oh, where do you perform? And I go, all over the place. Oh really? Where? Have you ever been to that one on Burrard, Yuk Yuks? Then I go, that’s actually not Yuk Yuks. So I just say, you name it, I’ve done it.

KSM: There is that much comedy in Vancouver.

MH: Yeah, there’s dozens of shows a week. We have tons of shows, tons of comedy, but it’s like, the audience doesn’t know. I think they would come if they knew.

KSM: What I get asked most is why I do it.

MH: Why not? It’s fun. I started doing comedy a little over two years ago. I had been told for years that I should do it, because I used to write jokes on Facebook. One day someone said that I need a creative outlet, and I went, oh, okay. I think they meant pottery or oil painting or something like that.

KSM: And how did you start?

MH: Let’s take a couple steps back. I saw a comedian in 2012 named Jason Rouse do comedy… Keep in mind, I wasn’t like, a comedy guy. Unlike most comedians, who know all this comedians, I only knew the big names. That’s about it.

It was the first show I had ever been to and he did a bunch of comedy that I felt was really funny, it’s sort of offensive… I didn’t think you could do comedy like that. I thought it was too offensive and no one would… Even though I thought it was funny I didn’t know enough people would.

KSM: So you didn’t know there was niche comedy?

MH: Exactly. And this was at the Rio. Each of us paid ten bucks to be here. That thought just simmered. And the next year I tried standup.

KSM: That is a different story from most, who tend to grow up idolizing comics.

MH: It just had never been on my radar, I hadn’t been exposed to it. It’s funny… a lot of people I know, and noticed since I started doing comedy, have only seen the “big ones” too. Most people I know have never been to a comedy show. But I do think comedy is on an uprise. I think because of Netflix it will make a resurgence. More people will start trying it too.

KSM: So tell me about your first experience.

MH: I took a class, that’s how I did it. The classes are somewhat controversial. I’m glad I did it because it gave me… I paid $200 to get on stage. If I didn’t do that, I never would have gotten up. The class at least taught me, yeah, you gotta keep doing it, move the mic stand out of the way. I had a good time, I thought, I wanna keep on doing this.

KSM: And you’ve continued for more than two years… So I know you’ve had a bad experience by now. What was one of your worst?

MH: The most uncomfortable set I ever had was when, just as the MC was introducing me, half the room got up to smoke. Nothing to do with me, they just needed to smoke. The dynamic was just gone. And, I do the material and some of it’s a big edgy and there’s no annonymity in the audience, it feels like, like people aren’t allowed to laugh at it.

A girl even said to me “hey! That’s not funny” – and not in a bantery way. It was like, ugggggh. [motions a knife in the heart] I felt it in my soul. I wasn’t skilled enough to deal with that yet.

KSM: And now? How do you deal with hecklers now?

MH: I think I’m just more confident, so I’m better able to deal with it now. If shit like that comes up I can get into it with people. I’m not as scared about it.

KSM: Your comedy touches on a lot of personal stuff, but you really seem comfortable in your own skin and have a strong identity. Do you think that helps?

MH: Considering the way my life has been, it’s always weird to hear something like that. But it resonates with part of me, too. I think comics can talk about whatever they want as long as its funny.

Where I’m a bit different from maybe some of the comics we know is I’ve had a personal experience with every single dark subject I talk about. Friends dying of aids. Sexual abuse. Prostitution. Drug abuse. Overdose. Addiction. Kids being apprehended. My whole life for a long time was all that stuff.

KSM: So on the topic of dark comedy, let’s talk about the show you produce.

MH: I do a show called Comedy Shocker at the Rickshaw. It’s a dark and dirty comedy show, the only recurring one in Vancouver. On July 4th the headliner is Kathleen McGee. We have a lot of other people on it, too.

KSM: What drove you to create a show like this?

MH: My friend Jason [Kryska] and I started it because we got tired of hearing from people “oooooh, you can’t say that. You can’t say that. People don’t find that funny.” I know that there are people who find this funny. I wanted to make a show that is a safe zone for this kind of humor. No one is walking in, and not knowing what it is. If you’re someone who gets offended by x-y-z, then… We want everyone to have a good time… It really is like, a free speech room and if you don’t like it, then please don’t come.

KSM: You’d really rather not sell the ticket?

MH: I don’t want people who might get offended there, because no one is having fun then.

So, if you’re the kind of person who can handle it, don’t miss The Comedy Shocker Presents: Downward Spiral at the Rickshaw Theatre.

At first it was sincere excitement, I had finally found a quality pair of pants. The rarity of this should be noted––for me to find a pair with the right fit, loose but not saggy around my bulbous ass and thighs, is hard enough as it is, but to find ones that also stretch––this was momentous. I told the cashier that it was tough to decide between the “Modern” and the “Classic” fit but that I thought I ultimately made the right choice. He was surprisingly dismissive, responding only in grunt, which forced me to dive into greater detail.

“You know, sometimes you just need a little more space for your legs and I really believe the Classic fit does that for me.”

“I mean look at the stretch on ‘em! Look at how far I’m squatting down! Look! These are brand new! Didn’t even have to break ‘em in!”

“And this colour, what is it, like a deep navy? This is perfect. Not dark enough for the sun to bake my legs when I’m outside but dark enough to hide any stains.”

“You know how when you pee but you don’t pee it all out and you dribble a bit in your pants? I do that sometimes. I don’t think it’s a prostate thing. Either way, no one will be able to tell in these!”

“What? Yah, sure, they’re nice pants.” He finally conceded. Satisfied, I paid and left.

Talking Heads is an interview column devoted to contemporary arts and culture in Vancouver. Once a month, Sad Mag‘s Helen Wong sits down with a couple of interesting, unique individuals to discuss a topic of her choosing. This month’s topic? The sassy, fabulous and controversial world of drag.

Earlier this month I sat down with two queens, Jane Smoker and Tiffany Ann Co, to discuss their experiences and thoughts on drag. Jane Smoker is a professional drag queen. Having recently won Vancouver’s Next Drag Superstar, she’s slowly taking over the Vancouver scene and it has been a delight to watch. She is everything from edgy to glamourous as she continually pushes the boundaries of drag.

Tiffany Ann Co is an up and coming drag queen in Vancouver. Hailing from Richmond, she brings her Asian heritage into the mean girl world of Vancouver. Her performances are original and captivating, to the point where I’ve found myself watching them on repeat!

Helen Wong: How did you first get involved with drag?

Jane Smoker: I first got involved with drag when I moved out for the first time to live with my boyfriend and his roommate. We all lived in a one bedroom and found ourselves attending a lot of drag shows like Apocalypstick. Through this, I met the Cobalt queens and did my first show at Apocalypstick as Lindsay Lohan. From then on, it was just something I kept doing and it eventually evolved into Jane.

Tiffany Ann Co: I first got involved with drag during Halloween. My friends and I were brainstorming ideas for a group costume and we had settled on TLC. During our night out, we ended up winning a best group costume contest, which resulted in a promoter noticing us and booking us for future shows. The name Tiffany Ann Co emerged by playing with the letter T from my real name and incorporating the world of fashion, which is something that is very important in my life.

HW: How did you create the persona of Jane Smoker and Tiffany Ann Co? Does it feel like a construction?

JS: Jane’s persona is like a mix of Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Pamela Anderson, Courtney Love and Tara Reid. I’ve always been fascinated with these crazy, messy blonde celebrities. They appear to lead such chic lives with the way they dress but they are always getting arrested due to their partying and antics. Jane channels this contrast of beautiful people looking bad. Jane acts in a way that I wish I could act on a regular basis. She’s basically a hot mess. But with anyone, Jane has different sides to her and I like to play on her image, sometimes she’ll look more androgynous, and sometimes she’ll be very classy.

TAC: Tiffany kind of just takes over when I perform, but the idea of Tiffany was based off of the first performance I did on Vancouver’s Next Drag Superstar. She is the lovechild of an Asian Regina George and Blair Waldorf. I feel like Tiffany is an exaggerated form of my personality. She is like the rich Asian girl of Vancouver: a party girl at heart.

Tiffany Ann Co, photo courtesy of John Bello

HW: Does Jane Smoker or Tiffany Ann Co feel like an extension of yourself or like a completely separate entity?

JS: Initially, she definitely felt like a separate entity. When I first started out as Jane, I would always refer to her in third person. But the more I’ve been performing, the more I’ve become used to her. I’m at the point where I sometimes even refer to myself as Jane.

TAC: Tiffany feels like a character that is related to me, like a twin sister. I like to think of her as a characterized form of Tony that does things that I normally wouldn’t do. She is who I become on stage, but when I finish performing she just turns off and I go back to being myself. Tony isn’t a part of Tiffany; Tiffany is a part of me.

HW: What reactions have you received from friends and family when you first started performing?

JS: My parents were not okay with the fact that I was performing drag. They saw a picture of me dressed in drag at a Sharon Needles performance and confronted me about it. My parents are religious and believed that drag was a sign that I wanted to transition into a woman. I remember having to frantically scrub off my make up when I would meet up with them because I told them that it was a one-time thing. However, when it became impossible to hide, we had a big talk about it. Now, they see it as more of an artistic thing. I’ve always loved performing and view this as performance art.

TAC: I mainly received a lot of positive feedback and support from friends and family. I think Tiffany is a lot cooler than me, I find people want to know about Tiffany’s life more than mine! Sometimes it’s overwhelming when I have people coming up to me and recognizing me from Vancouver’s Next Drag Superstar because I feel so much like myself (Tony) even when I look like Tiffany.

HW: What is it that keeps you performing?

JS: I love to do it; it’s something that I’m passionate about. Other performers always inspire me and I have a huge vault of performance ideas to the point where I’m always trying to push my own limits and try new things.

TAC: I have been performing my whole life. I love the adrenaline and feeling I get on stage. It’s a fun process and something that I like to look back on especially since the way I perform on stage is largely constructed inside my head so it’s fun to watch performances back. I become a different person on stage, I have more confidence and attitude and I like how it’s different from who I am in everyday life.

HW: Drag as a performance often uses stereotypes associated with how woman are portrayed in the media regarding how they’re supposed to look. How do you think drag reaffirms or subverts this notion?

JS: I think this depends on the queen. There are classic queens who do create the look of big hips, big ass, big eyes and lashes. But I feel like drag has evolved. Drag is whatever fantasy you want to feel; it’s all about the fantasy because there are no rules in drag. For instance, I sometimes choose not to wear any padding on my chest or I choose to wear minimal butt padding, in this way I’m still beautiful without using any of the stereotypes portrayed in the media.

TAC: For lack of a better word, Tiffany is a bit of a slut. Like I said before, she does things that I normally wouldn’t do, such as deep-throat a banana. I think that there are different forms of drag and the way that I created Tiffany doesn’t necessarily use the normative stereotypes of what an ideal woman should be. I think the main difference is that I didn’t create Tiffany for men; I created her for girls.

HW: How do you think gender construction surfaces in drag? Do these issues occur to you while performing?

JS: I feel like I’m the classic example of a drag queen. I’m a gay man dressing up as a woman. But there are so many types of drag that it’s not so simple to categorize. Sometimes I will wear a bald cap, or I’ll have short hair; I’m androgynous one day and sometimes I won’t even look human.

TAC: Aesthetically I created Tiffany to be like a normal girl, someone you wouldn’t naturally notice in a crowd. A lot of drag queens like to go all out with their costume and make up, but the character I created doesn’t do that. Tiffany’s onstage persona is largely a comedic and sexualized version of how girls behave, so when I’m on stage I’m just performing.

HW: Drag by its very nature assumes and reaffirms gender roles through the performance of wearing clothing associated with certain genders. Do you think this further reifies traditional gender norms?

JS:There’s a wild cluster of clothing that performers are wearing. You can wear whatever you feel like. I generally like to look sexy but I can’t see why you can’t wear whatever you want. If you want to wear leaves all over your body and all over your hair, then do it. Real cisgender women don’t do that. Drag isn’t about clothing rules; kings can wear bras and underpants or queens can have beards. At the end of the day, it’s all just drag.

TAC: Clothing doesn’t have gender; society puts gender on clothing. I think drag allows us to put new norms on gender roles because clothing is a form of expression that doesn’t define who you are or dictate gender.

HW: How do you like being identified?

JS: I identify as a male, but, really, why put a label on gender these days? There’s such a broad rainbow spectrum of gender and I believe most people are gender neutral. We all have masculine and feminine sides within us.

TAC: I identify as male, but for some reason I like using the pronoun ‘she’ for everyone. Boy, girl, straight, gay—whatever. I don’t do this in a negative or conscious way; I find it’s just how I speak.

HW: What advice would you give to up and coming queens and kings?

JS: Be patient and don’t do it for anybody else but yourself. Do what makes you happy and don’t follow the rules. The beauty of drag is that it’s so punk you can make it anything you want it to be. I think you should find something that makes you unique. But also, have a mix of self-confidence and delusion.

TAC: My main advice would be to do whatever you want. Don’t let other people tell you how to act because a large part of your growth comes from experience. You should determine your own ‘right’ way, because who is to say if your art is right or wrong? Rules are meant to be broken. At the end of the day, you just have to be happy with yourself.

Want to see them in action? Jane Smoker and Tiffany Ann Co host Back It Up Thursdays at Celebrity Night Club. Jane is performing at Edmonton Pride and has weekly and monthly shows coming up, so stay tuned! Tiffany also has an event called Sorority House at Celebrities on July 16^th.

Q&A // Sean Parsons (aka Beardoncé)

Review // Stefan Sagmeister: The Happy Show

CAT ISSUE SNEAK PEEK // FELINE FEMININITY

Portraits of Brief Encounters // Good Luck Summer

Sad Cast Releases Episode 11 & 12

Talking Heads // Andy Dixon

Cat Issue Sneak Peek // MewTube

Interview // Mark Hughes

Portraits of Brief Encounters // Grunts

Talking Heads // Jane Smoker & Tiffany Ann Co