Tag: concordia alumna

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Arts

A conversation with actress and filmmaker Katharine King So

The Concordia alumna discusses The Voyeurs, Montreal, and representation in film

In 2013, Katharine King So took a blind leap, and decided to move to Montreal to enroll at Concordia’s Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema. Born and raised in Vancouver, her move to Montreal encouraged her to forge new connections within the film industry. The Concordia alumna’s latest gig, The Voyeurs, granted her the opportunity to play a role in a city that originally ignited her passion for film.

Although acting and filmmaking are her chief passions, she’s equally enthusiastic about advocating for those working in the film industry who identify as marginalized. King So founded the LGBTQ2S+ group at ACTRA Montreal (Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists) and she aspires to create lasting change within the industry.

TC: Can you talk to me about The Voyeurs and what it was like to be able to return to Montreal?

KKS: It was great! I’m excited to see what people think of the film, because there’s genuinely a lot of surprises. The film basically focuses on this couple that moves into an apartment where their window looks directly into the loft across the street from them. As they become more obsessed with this couple, things start to spiral.

So it’s a very rare experience to film in a Canadian city, and have it actually portrayed as a Canadian city. Most of the time [in films] we’re pretending that Montreal is New York or… Paris, but to actually film in Montreal and have it portrayed as Montreal felt really special. It was also special to get to be a voice for the city, as someone who lived in Montreal for eight years.

TC: Can you talk to me about your character Ari? What was it like to step into this role?

KKS: I think Ari just immediately spoke to me. The humour that Michael [Mohan] had written into the character was so evident, so I knew I could have fun. The film is suspenseful and can get quite dark, so my character is kind of like the comic relief. She’s also not afraid of being very blunt and speaking her mind. That, as an actor, gives you so much freedom which you don’t necessarily have in the real world.

Also, my character in the film is queer and Cameo Adele who plays my partner is also queer, so the director really went out of his way to prioritize hiring queer people for these parts. There’s a lot of things about this movie that I think felt very authentic for a big film.

TC: In addition to acting and filmmaking, you also started the LGBTQ2S+ group at ACTRA. Could you tell me more about this group?

KKS: We started the LGBTQ2S+ group at ACTRA Montreal, gosh, almost a year and a half ago. We didn’t really have one before, so it’s been really nice to have a community of people that are all part of the LGBTQ2S+ community. We’re there for each other, we have discussions, and we’re also doing a few actions to try and sort of make some progress in the industry.

Right now, we’re working on a better practices document*. The work takes a while, but it’s nice to have that space that can be accessible for people. I feel like that’s something that’s pretty intrinsic to a lot of the work that I do. It feels very relevant in the time and place where we are now in society, to be pushing for certain representation. I also think that’s why the film is so special to me. As a person, I inherently occupy multiple spaces, whether that’s being a woman, or being queer, or half Asian. Often in film, characters are only allowed to do one (role) at once. It was nice to play a role in The Voyeurs that was all the intersections of what I represent and also confident, goofy, and unapologetic.

*This document’s purpose is to present objectives that will make those who identify as LGBTQ2S+ feel safe and acknowledged in the film industry.

TC: What advice do you have for marginalized individuals who are looking to get into the sphere of film?

KKS: I think that it’s very important to have a support system. Also, the internet is a great resource now that wasn’t always there.

The industry is also a lot harder on queer people and people of colour. They get subjected to a lot more criticism, are expected to represent entire blanket communities, and are not allotted the same respect even now. I think you also have to eventually, in some ways, learn to separate the self from the work. If you do take everything so personally it can really wear you down, and it can be a hard industry to maintain your mental health in. Being able to look at something as just work versus your entire identity is very important. But that’s very hard. The work is in your body, with how you look, and all these things, so it’s definitely easier said than done.

TC: In terms of acting, how has it been with the pandemic? Have you taken on any new projects?

KKS: It’s been very interesting. I actually was very fortunate that I was able to work on a DC video game for almost a year, so I had pretty consistent work. It’s called Gotham Knights, and I play Batgirl. So that was really fun! It was also my first video game, so that style of acting is a little bit different than film. I also got to do motion capture and performance capture as well.

I was also shooting the second season of Transplant, which is shot in Montreal. And then I also got […] development funding from the CBC through the Creative Relief Fund for a sitcom that I pitched. Right now, I’m working with my lit[erary] manager and sort of getting that out to networks.

It’s been a weird year, but I think the film industry has managed to maintain a certain level of safety on set. It’s just been a lot of adapting!

The Voyeurs can be streamed on Amazon Prime. 

 

Photo courtesy of Jeremy Cabrera

Categories
Arts

Intricacies of a morally-conflicted mind

Brotherhood showcases the struggling humanity of a war-torn family

There’s a lot that could be said about Concordia Alumna Meryam Joobeur’s Brotherhood. The short film was nominated for an Oscar in the live-action short-film category. In its simplicity, the film showcases the deep disturbance and shifting family dynamics caused by the emergence of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).

Centred around a distrusting and hardened father, Mohamed, the 25-minute short follows the story of his moral conflict upon the arrival of his eldest son, Malik, who had left to fight in Syria with ISIS. Malik returned a year later with a very young and pregnant wife, clad in a niqab— forcing the father into a deeper conflict within himself.

There are a couple of things about the North-African and Middle-Eastern cultures that are important to know. Family is a founding value in this culture; a father’s responsibility towards his family is heavy and permanent. This responsibility is emphasized in the dialogue between Mohamed and his wife, Salha, where he says “I have slaved away my life for these boys.”

Salha, the boy’s mother and Mohamed’s wife, is mostly passively present; not so much taking part in the moral conflict that is set throughout the whole story. In a way, it’s reflective of the passive role of mothers in dealing with life-changing decisions. Although her role is not active, her presence certainly is; she welcomes Malik back without a second thought, expressing “as long as he’s alive, I’ll stand by him and defend him.” There’s a word in Arabic that perfectly embodies what a mother represents: hanan. It means tenderness. A mother’s love is never distrusting, always loyal to her children, and never-fading.

Watching this film was like reading a book—there was a lot left for imagination, for your own understanding. Nothing is said explicitly, nothing is forced upon you. There are a myriad of ways to interpret the struggles of Mohamed’s family. The underlying pressures of societal family values combined with this family’s faith and morality are all challenged when Malik left for ISIS. As an Arab, I think of what must have been going through Mohamed’s mind when Malik returned: he is my son, but he brought shame upon us. He is my son, but he joined an immoral killing machine. He is my son, but he impregnated a child. 

Mohamed’s inner struggle to accept the moral wrongs of his son is the core of Joobeur’s short. There’s a never-ending battle between unconditional love for his flesh-and-bone and loyalty to his moral grounds, and what he believes his religion, also his son’s, actually stands for.

The film is raw, and not very easy to watch. The very opening scene sees Mohamed and his middle-child, Chaker, looking at a flock of sheep that had been attacked by a wolf—a sheep was bleeding profusely, and the father and son went to kill it. The togetherness of this act strengthens father-and-son narrative, while also highlighting the contrast between the two characters—the father as a hardened man, and the son, sensitive and hesitant to kill. This contrasts directly the idea of Malik killing with ISIS— something Mohamed accused him of in one of the scenes, even though Malik said he never killed anyone.

The soundtrack consisted of wild sounds, setting a rural and haunting environment for viewers, forcing them to listen to the tension that is almost palpable on screen. In a scene where Malik takes his two younger brothers to the beach, a moment of confession ensues: “I regret going to Syria,” Malik told Chaker. “Promise me you will never go.”

It’s reflective of how misconceptions and false propaganda hurts people. 

In parallel to Malik’s confession, Mohamed makes a call. An argument between him and Salha leads Malik’s young wife, Reem, to confess that the baby was not his—she was forced to “marry” many fighters. In other words, she was raped by ISIS terrorists and got pregnant, and Malik, while running away, chose to help her even though he knew it would only make things worse with his father. That call was to authorities to take Malik away, a deed Mohamed instantly regretted as he ran towards his sons at the beach, calling for Malik in breathless shouts—only to realize it was too late.

Something that stood out to me was the portrayal of different facets of Islam: Joobeur sets a clear and hard line between the supposed “Islam” of ISIS, and that of a normal, rural family. The Arabic language has a different name for ISIS that recognizes their work isn’t that of Islam—something that Western languages never did. It’s called Daesh. There is no mention of the religion of Islam in this title. This is significant for a simple reason: a name reflects the identity of what it is that you’re introducing, dubbing a terrorist group as an Islamic state automatically associates Islam to terrorism. No matter how many times someone can say “this is not representative of Islam,” there’s no way the stain of that title can ever be removed.

Brotherhood, in asserting the difference between the Tunisian-Muslim family and ISIS, very subtly says that ISIS is not Islam. I’ve read great reviews of the film, but none of them recognized this—most of them related the strain between Mohamed and Malik to the latter leaving family responsibilities, and none highlighted the fact that he left to join a terrorist group, and that was the source of Mohamed’s moral conflict.

ISIS shook the Middle-East and North-Africa. It shook the world of Islam and only fed Islamophobia further, it justified the West’s pre-existent bias and discrimination. Brotherhood depicts how torn families suffered the aftermath of such a phenomenon in the rawest and most simplistic way—strictly humanized, embellished in nature, and thriving in moral conflict.

 Brotherhood can be watched online, on vimeo.com.

 

 

 

Collage by Laurence Brisson Dubreuil.

Categories
Student Life

A childhood love for fairy tales

Concordia alumna, winner of the 2017 Quebec Writers’ Federation Literary Prize, shares her journey to literary success

A graduate student in creative writing at Concordia University, an instructor at the Atwater Library and the winner of the 2017 Quebec Writers’ Federation (QWF) Literary Prize for Young Writers wait near the Hive Café for an interview. What do they have in common? They are the same person. What are they passionate about? Books.

Nicola Sibthorpe, a second-year master’s student, emanates an aura of deep affection and pride when she discusses books. “I’m a book a day kind of girl,” she said. When asked about how many books she had read in her lifetime, Sibthorpe responded: “I’ve read maybe 10,000 books?”

The exact number eluded her, but she estimated being the owner of approximately 3,500 books, while also being the “proud owner of a library card.” Sibthorpe grew up obsessed with folklore, fairy tales and myths. Her original passion was for Greek and Celtic mythology. She describes her enthusiasm for the genres as her “childhood love.” Sibthorpe remembers reading Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales in secret as a child because of their sad and gruesome nature, keeping her private reading interests from her parents.

These literary genres represent a familial connection for Sibthorpe, as they are “the same stories that your parents will tell you, that their grandparents told them and it really allows you to tie yourself back to your family in a specific way or a specific culture.”

The poem that won her the QWF Young Writers award encompasses many different themes. The format of this poem is conventionally different such as using spacing and parentheses to convey additional layers of meaning. It contains vivid imagery that can be interpreted a variety of ways, such as “Grief cause by absence/ (Used to flavour wine)” or “Think of radioactivity/ Chemicals seeping into water.”

When probed, Sibthorpe refused to provide an interpretation of her work, stating she believes that “truly the author is dead,” leaving it up to the reader’s imagination to shape the canon of her work. She recently submitted her proposal for her thesis consisting of a modern adaptation of The Odyssey set in Newfoundland and Montreal. She’s very fond of worldbuilding (creating alternate, fictional worlds) and the morals that one could derive from fairy tales, while also appreciating the darkness of original myths. In her spare time, Sibthorpe works on a young adult novel that she describes as “one of those [in a] magical world, [with] children exploring and learning and growing throughout that.”

Her goal is to write what she wants to read. She aspires to write the books that she would have liked to read growing up, that could have helped her as she faced her challenges.Sibthorpe thinks the world has changed a lot since the 19th century and today there are great differences in morals.She believes that fairy tales should reflect the current climate with modern and inclusive values. It’s not all serious though, she also likes books for their entertainment value and enjoys writing fun stories.

Her favourite pieces to write are the ones that subvert what people expect in a certain way “whether that’s through fairy tales, gender, sexuality or ways you can twist it in a certain way, I think that’s very fun.” When asked what work she was the most excited to work on, she didn’t need to think twice, she immediately answered “All of it? All of it, all of it!”

Sibthorpe is very optimistic when it comes to tackling new work despite it not necessarily being her own personal endeavour. She feels that every project she starts becomes a project that she wants to work on. “I think that passion is very important,” she said. “It’s about finding the ways that a project can become something interesting to you rather than starting off with the idea from the get-go that it’s something you love.”

Writing can be isolating for the author, but she finds that sometimes “it needs to be.” Sibthorpe is grateful to be in a program with likeminded people who share similar ambitions. This allows her to curb the feeling of loneliness by being in a room of other student writers, being “isolationists together,” she said with a smile.

“There are always ways to get yourself out there and experience stuff,” said Sibthorpe about Montreal, which she finds has a strong community of writers. Having such a community makes it easy for her to be inspired, due to the plethora of poetry readings or other literary and artistic events around the city.

Having grown up in a big family, Sibthorpe became accustomed to being surrounded by noise and activity, and she now likes to surround herself in environments that have something going on. If not, she always has a Spotify playlist with music from artists like Maggie Rogers or Firewood Island, a group that falls under the genre of ‘Celtic Viking’ music

Her academic ambition at the moment is to one day complete her PhD, but she tries to keep the future for the future. To avoid feeling overwhelmed, she avoids looking further than three months ahead. Sibthorpe thinks that what will happen in a year is too far away, but if she focuses on a smaller chunk of time, she can manage her expectations and duties better. In three months she’ll be visiting family in Newfoundland, catching up on some Netflix and working on her thesis.

Sibthorpe’s poem ‘Artemisia Absinthium’ can be read at here.  The 2018 QWF Literary Prize for Young Writers is open for submissions from until June 15. See here for more information.

Categories
Arts

Painting with intuition and reason

Concordia alumna Sylvie Adams exhibits three series of serendipitous paintings in The Time, the Mark , the Space. Blueberry Lime Sorbet (left), Portrait de Genre IV (centre) and Winter Day at the Lake (right) illustrate two of the three series. Photo by Mackenzie Lad

Concordia alumna Sylvie Adams exhibits three series of serendipitous paintings

When it comes to abstraction, the eye tends to search for familiar shapes. Each person’s perspective and interpretation of an abstract work will be different. Concordia alumna Sylvie Adams’s solo exhibition, The Time, the Mark , the Space, is no different.

Adams chose the title of her exhibition to be representative of her artistic process, which relies on time and gravity. The artist allows the initial application of paint to drip down the canvas, letting physics create her underpainting. The colours mix without the artist manually affecting the nature of the paint. Once Adams feels ready, she will make intuitive markings with acrylic paint, India ink or spray paint. She lets the piece speak to her; the universe pulls her towards making specific marks on some pieces and not on others, she explained. It is in this phase that the image begins to take shape.

Concordia alumna Sylvie Adams will exhibit three series of serendipitous paintings at Maison de la culture Marie-Uguay (6052 Monk Blvd.), until March 25. Photo by Mackenzie Lad

The artist graduated from Concordia University in 1987 with a major in design and a minor in visual arts. At the time, Adams did not spend much time painting, but when she did, she preferred creating realistic depictions. It was Marilyn Rubenstein, an abstract artist, who encouraged Adams to begin her abstract practice. When the two met, Rubenstein was a drawing and painting teacher at the Saidye Bronfman Centre School of Fine Arts, now the Visual Arts Centre.

Today, Adams practices lyrical abstraction, a form of abstraction that uses softer, looser brushwork. The practice is largely based on the artist’s painterly intuition. “I start with a neutral, black-and-white background, and I start to play with different mediums, experimenting with their fluidity. Some parts I will wet, others I will not,” Adams explained. She said she also likes to leave some sections untouched, exposing the raw canvas to create a balance between the strokes, dripping paint and sprays of colour. The artist uses a paper cut-out to shield sections of the painting and isolate some elements, enforcing the negative space between one part and another.

“When I start painting, I don’t know what it will look like, I don’t know what colours I’ll use,” Adams said. Intuition and reason are key in her practice. She must be sure the mark she will make is the right one. Some abstract work is created chaotically, but Adams’s isn’t. Her paintings are carefully crafted, just as a realistic painting would be. Yet unlike realism, Adams has no set subject matter.

Adams forms a dialogic relationship with her work. Each mark she makes utters a response, leading the artist to her next movement. “It is as though the painting is saying something to me,” she said. “I just have to be open to it.” The final result is a painting symbolic of a conversation the artist has with herself and her work, bringing her intuition, dynamic actions and personal thoughts, feelings and emotions into play.

The dialogue Adams holds with her work is a meditative one, which she admits can be quite frustrating. Some pieces, like Cookie Monster, are kept in the studio for a few months before the artist realizes the mark she is compelled to make. In its early stages, Cookie Monster was without the two strokes shaped like the number six. Adams recognised the body of a monster in her application of dark paint as it dripped in a way that illustrated teeth. To highlight this idea, Adams felt the need to give it eyes.

Despite the monster appearing in Cookie Monster, Adams’s paintings are comforting and can be relatable to viewers who look closely. Individual experiences draw people to different pieces and change what people take away from her work.

In its early stages, Cookie Monster was without the two strokes shaped like the number six. Photo by Mackenzie Lad

The Time, the Mark , the Space also features a series of portraits. The artist uses a combination of warm flesh tones, black and white to create a hidden visage. In Portrait de Genre I, Adams saw the face of an old man, while one viewer saw the face of a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, and another recognized U.S. President Donald Trump.   

Adams uses three distinct colour palettes in The Time, the Mark, the Space: a series of warm tones (pinks, beiges, oranges, browns) as seen in the Portrait de genre series I-IV and Cookie Monster; cool tones ranging from blues and greens in Frostbite, Cri Primal, Winter Day at the Lake and Blueberry Lime Sorbet, and finally a series of rich burgundy, orange, green, and red tones in Close Call, La marche du temps, Chemin en Mutation and Mango Chutney.

The exhibition’s 13 paintings were all created last year, and each one symbolizes the creation of a world, as stated in the galley brochure.

The Time, the Mark , the Space is open from 1 p.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, until 6 p.m. on Thursdays and until 5 p.m. on Friday and weekends. It will be displayed at Maison de la culture Marie-Uguay (6052 Monk Blvd.) until March 25.

Photos by Mackenzie Lad

Categories
Arts

Putting her mark on the walls of the city

Cedar Eve Peters working on her mural for this year’s Unceded Voices: Anticolonial Street Artists Convergence. Photo by Cecil Lopes.

Concordia alumna Cedar Eve Peters speaks about her mural painting and traditional jewelry

Cedar Eve Peters, an Ojibwe First Nations artist from Toronto, began beading because she wanted to try a different medium and explore her artistry.

Peters moved to Montreal when she was 18 and graduated from Concordia’s studio arts program in 2012. She now works in Montreal as an independent artist, creating brightly coloured beaded jewelry as well as drawings and acrylic paintings that she sells through Instagram.

One of the artist’s sets of beaded earrings. This pair is made out of Amazonite gemstones and sterling silver. Photo courtesy of Cedar Eve Peters.

Although she enjoys beading, Peters said she sometimes has to draw or paint to relax before starting a beading project. Beading requires a lot of concentration and is very tedious work, she explained. When the thread breaks, it can be frustrating. Nonetheless, she said she finds making earrings to be very therapeutic.

 

“I taught myself how to make earrings, but my jewelry is inspired by my mother and grandmother’s earrings,” Peters said. “I look at elements of nature for inspiration for my beading—from flowers to sunsets to the winter season.”

Peters’ work also includes mural paintings. She recalled that one of her most memorable experiences as a student was a trip to Peru in 2011. She volunteered alongside five other girls and had the opportunity to paint a mural for an elementary school.

This experience exposed her to the collaborative process of mural painting for the first time. From Aug. 13 to 21, Peters had a solo exhibition at a gathering called Unceded Voices: Anticolonial Street Artists Convergence, where she painted a mural on the corner of St-Jacques and St-Philippe Street. Unceded Voices is an event that brings together “primarily Indigenous-identified women, two-spirit, queer and women of colour street artists” to create murals in Montreal, according to their website.

One of Peters’ drawings, titled that’s a mouthful. Pen on paper. Photo courtesy of Cedar Eve Peters.

 

 

 

 

Originally founded in 2014, the most recent edition of Unceded Voices took place in Montreal’s St-Henri neighbourhood, which has a variety of bare walls, abandoned buildings and train tracks. This year’s event is the first to receive funding from both the Canada Council for the Arts and the Conseil des arts de Montréal. “Unceded Voices is a call to action to rethink our relationships with the colonial cities, and to have the courage to listen to what the walls are saying to everyone,” said Camille Larivée, an Unceded Voices organizer.

Peters’ drawings and paintings, which she also sells through social media, often depict shape-shifting creatures that hover between human and animalistic. She described them as spirit beings with powerful energies. She said she is inspired by mythologies and stories found in Indigenous cultures.

“I hope my art can relate to Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike,” she said. “The language of art allows for people to communicate with one another through a non-verbal means and is integral to keeping First Nations culture alive. It is my way of carrying stories forward and a way to remember my ancestors.”

To see more of Cedar Eve Peters’ work or to purchase her jewelry, check out her Instagram page @cedareve.

Photos Courtesy of Cedar Eve Peters

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