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Why Do We Dream?

The performance featured improvisational dancing, singing, and digital orchestrating. CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian

By Lily Cowper and Ashley Fish-Robertson

The RISE Collective’s fifth experimental mini-opera explored lucid dreams as the last frontier for the unsupervised imagination

(Editors’ Note: This article was originally published without mentioning the original creator of Why Do We Dream?, Valentina Plata, who is a second-year Electroacoustics student at Concordia. Why Do We Dream began as a final project in Plata’s independent study, later coming to fruition after collaborating with RISE, and she is officially credited as having “sparked and driven” the show. See more of Plata’s work here.)

On Thursday, March 17, a performance in collaboration with Concordia’s Music Department and the Concordia Laptop Orchestra (R) sought to explore and recreate a lucid dream state using improvised sound, lights, and movement. 

The fifth performance in an ongoing series of mini-operas, Why Do We Dream? was put on by RISE, the newly-developed research cluster tied to Le PARC Milieux (part of Concordia’s Milieux Institute). RISE, which stands for Reflective Iterative Scenario Enactments, is led by Dr. Eldad Tsabary, co-founder of Le PARC as well as associate professor and coordinator of Concordia’s electroacoustics program.

Dr. Tsabary also works at the graduate level with students in Concordia’s Individualised Program (INDI), many of whom participated in the show. The applicant-led degree path allows students to combine interdisciplinary subjects to forge unique research paths, making connections between diverse genres of study. It makes sense then, that their collaborative efforts would result in performances like Why Do We Dream?, described on the Facebook event page as “intersensory” and “massively collaborative.”

All RISE performances are meant to operate in this way. Once an idea sparks interest, a research-creation team made up of Concordia professors and graduate students collaborate to combine many different mediums and techniques into one show. Each RISE performance re-envisions a different fear-based “cataclysmic” disaster through the lens of an opera, while simultaneously pushing the boundaries of what it even means to create an opera. The intention is to investigate both human consciousness surrounding various modern disasters, as well as the opera’s collaborative production experience itself. 

Every mini-opera in the RISE series has been executed differently. The first two premiered digitally during the pandemic lockdowns. Mixed messages, No Pants was highly experimental, taking form as a live-streamed computer orchestra where COVID-related memos sent out by the university were used as libretto. In contrast, Personal Pandemic was a full-scale planned film production with developed characters, scripts and composers. The third performance, Returning to the Trees was a stageless performance using experimental recordings taken deep in the forest. A fourth opera, Cyber Identity Crisis, premiered privately last month to a small group of Art History students. 

Why Do We Dream? was the natural next step for RISE organisers to challenge the traditional opera format.

The recent performance focused on an AI-controlled future and cyber surveillance, exploring the lucid dream as the last frontier of unsupervised imagination. This in-person format integrated many of the previous operas’ elements, complete with music by the CLOrk orchestra, strange costumes and masks by PhD INDI candidate Oonagh Fitzgerald, and live coding by Dr. Tsabary, a type of performing art where images and sounds are dynamically projected by writing computer codes in an improvised manner.

CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian

Upon entering, it’s clear that Why Do We Dream? was meant to replicate what it might feel like to walk through someone else’s dream — or nightmare, depending on how you choose to look at it. 

“It’s a dream,” Dr. Tsabary explained. “It’s supposed to be unexpected. I want whoever’s coming in to be overwhelmed by it.” 

Wandering between the three rooms, actors, some masked and some not, sang and recited lines that sounded as if they’d been plucked directly from someone’s mid-sleep garble. According to Tsabary, the libretto was written using phrases pulled from actual dream journals.

Visitors who paid special attention to each room were afforded the chance to appreciate small, and at times unusual, details. In one room there were several dice, all positioned so that the number five was facing upwards. Several inquisitive visitors could be seen reflecting on these details, with some attempting to make sense of their presence.

The first room, with its profuse darkness, featured an individual sitting inside of a tent, surrounded by string lights. From inside the tent, the performer treated visitors to a simultaneously captivating and perplexing sonic experience consisting of eerie sound effects. These effects included squeaky violins being played, the distant sound of alarms, and clicking noises. A breathtaking view of Montreal’s skyline served as the backdrop, complementing the performance. 

The second room was much more spacious, and featured a brilliant mix of artistic practices consisting of dancing, painting, acting, playing music, and more. Walking into this room was disorienting to say the least. There was a lot to take in. Despite the diverse display of mediums all occupying the same space, the performance in this room maintained a remarkable unity.

The final room appeared to pay tribute to the enigmatic and even spiritual nature of our dreams. One person wandered around the room handing out tarot cards, while two actors sat on the floor of the room observing their own choice of cards. It was unclear whether they were satisfied or discontent with their choices. Additionally, another person made the rounds of the room, handing visitors small white pieces of paper. Each of these papers had a message scrawled on them. For example, one of them, in delicate handwriting, read: “dancing is like painting but with your body.”

The opera’s libretto was written using phrases from dream journals. CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian

It’s impossible to not appreciate the amount of work that went into bringing this interdisciplinary event to life. Each space offered a unique opportunity for visitors to lose themselves in the unfamiliar, while perhaps reflecting on and attempting to decipher their own dreams in the process. 

RISE is one of several interdisciplinary initiatives at Concordia where researchers with diverse interests can come together using their unique expertise to explore artistic mediums while investigating important issues in society. Why Do We Dream? subtly showcased the in-depth works of both undergraduate and INDI graduate students who seem to not only be interested in the RISE experiment, but in collaborating with each other. 

For this reason, the subject matter for this show was particularly fitting. The convergence of so many different talents may have appeared odd or disorganized, like dreams tend to be, but that messy network of connections is likely the key to a more holistic understanding of our modern world.

“I don’t see things as messy, I see them as [..] multiplicitous,” explained Dr. Tsabary, on the collaboration process behind Why Do We Dream? and previous RISE performances. “[It is] something involving a lot of people, each one contributing their own thing, and it comes together to be something very interesting.”

The next mini-opera in the RISE series will take place on April 7, and is anopera about personal losses due to technological failures,” as described by Dr. Tsabary. The play will explore the immortality of online presence. 

Keep up with RISE events and discussion sessions on riseopera.ca, or at Le PARC Milieux.

 

Photos by Catherine Reynolds

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Arts

An interview with Justine Bellefeuille

The studio arts student sat down with our assistant arts editor to discuss ceramics, working with chicken flesh, and more

Multidisciplinary artist Justine Bellefeuille is in the process of obtaining her BFA in studio arts at Concordia, where she previously completed the contemporary dance major program. Her practice revolves around the themes of feminism and violence against women, ideas she explores in both of her preferred artistic mediums. Bellefeuille is currently working on the dance piece OVERLOAD, which will be presented at Tangente from April 9 to 12. The choreographer first created this piece for five dancers in December 2019, and will now present an evolved version on stage.

Comfortably seated on a wooden stool, with her elbows resting on the marble counter top of a café, Bellefeuille shared her current passions and fascinations with The Concordian. 

The Concordian: How would you describe your artistic practice?

Justine Bellefeuille: I do dance, as a choreographer more than a performer. I am also a visual artist. I work a lot in painting, oil painting more specifically. And recently, I have started to work with ceramics. 

TC: How did you decide to develop those two artistic practices?

JB: It was really instinctive. In CEGEP, I studied visual arts. When I completed my degree, I wanted to study dance and to dive into this other medium, but visual arts was always in the back of my mind. I really liked it; I was very passionate about it. So, it is passion that led me to mix both. I think they inform each other. I don’t necessarily use visual arts objects in my dance projects, but in the movements’ aesthetic and in the costumes I create, my visual arts background appears. On the other side, movement can be very present in my paintings, and in my sculptural pieces. 

TC: Have you created projects that mix both disciplines?

JB: I think both disciplines are omnipresent in one another, but my ultimate goal would be to purposefully combine them. For instance, [for] my piece Pulpeux, which I created in March 2020, I started with painting. My goal wasn’t to work with dance, it was to create an image. Finally, after talking with a friend who is a dance performer, I realized that we could use [the painting] to create movements. Movement appeared from the shapes, the in-between spaces, the negative spaces that were created between the shapes and lines of the painting. The performer really followed those shapes to create other shapes in her body.

TC: What themes are you interested in?

JB: More and more I’m developing a feminist approach. Currently, I’m interested in violence against women, be it extreme aggressions or imperceptible daily aggressions. Recently, I also started to question myself about my own relationship with my body as a woman. I am questioning myself about if we perform our femininity, what defines this femininity, what is it exactly. Is it influenced by the pressure of men’s gaze, or is it a pressure that we constantly put on ourselves?

TC: You are currently working on the dance performance OVERLOAD. How does your feminist approach appear in this work? 

JB: For this piece, I am interested […] in the violence against women, how we experience this and how we perceive this personally. Some of the performers in the piece may have experienced such violence, others may have only witnessed it. But to be a witness is also something that is very hard to deal with. […] In the dance piece, each of the performers explores what this means to her. There is a lot of rage that comes out, there are a lot of contraction movements, spasms. During most of the piece, the performers are grouped together, which brings forward this idea of solidarity. They are a group, and they are [in] solidarity, but they also all live different things. 

TC: How would you describe your creative process for this dance piece?

JB: For OVERLOAD, the initial idea was rage. I was looking at harassment at first. With the performers of the initial piece, we worked a lot with improvisation. There were more sensorial improvisations and more formal ones related to images. We tried to represent something, harassment for instance. It slowly diverged towards something more minimalist, more abstract. That was the beginning of the process. Now at the start of every rehearsal, we sit together to chat. We share situations that we have witnessed, information we have seen, statistics related to violence against women. 

TC: Can you tell me about your recent discovery of ceramics?

JB: There is a very physical and tactile aspect to ceramics that I really like. There is also the aspect of reconnection with nature. I am currently taking a class during which we talk about the origins of clay, and where it comes from since it’s a material that comes from nature. Working with this material and knowing where it comes from creates a connection to the body, and to Earth. It’s very physical. Also, with ceramics, there are no limits. I can create what I want. It is a very fluid material. I can work however I want. And the glazes give me even more options. I am interested in the texture of chicken flesh. Therefore, I work with glossy glazes that can give a flesh-like effect. I had been looking for a long time for a material that could create this kind of effect and now that I’ve found it, I explore it. 

TC: How did you start working with chicken flesh?

JB: I have been working for a long time on this and I still question myself about it. It started with a project I did with chicken flesh in 2020. I took pictures of a raw chicken. I used these photographs to edit and cut them in Photoshop. I then recreated this new image in a painting. Since then, I [have been] fascinated with it, for its colour, for its connotation. I titled this first piece Cocotte. There was a connotation, a critique of women’s place in society. Through my current explorations, I try to understand why I’m so fascinated by chicken flesh. I think it is very, very visceral. There is something cruel, since it is raw, it is dead. I think there is something very violent also. It is sensual and delicate, but also violent. 

TC: Do you have artistic projects in mind for the future? 

JB: I want to rework Pulpeux. I would like to go back to this creation, there is really something to explore there. Also, the ceramics aspect was recently added to my explorations. I would like to combine dance and ceramics. Ceramics also have a historical aspect related to women and their work and I would like to do more research on this side and to see how it can articulate itself in a more formal manner. 

 

Photos by Catherine Reynolds

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Artist of the week: Tong Zhou Annie Lafrance

Tong Zhou in their friend’s studio. Photo by Paulina Bereza

The artist’s work engages with Chinese culture and aesthetic

I first met Tong Zhou Annie Lafrance in an art history class in 2019 where we were seated beside each other by chance. I remember being fascinated by the proportion of little drawings in their notebook compared to the small quantity of notes. We ended up working together for the whole semester on a project about artist Françoise Sullivan. The project gave us the chance to discover each other’s artistic styles. Now that we have both graduated, I was interested in learning more about where their artistic practice had taken them.

Living between Montreal and Quebec City, Tong Zhou is a multidisciplinary artist. They graduated from Concordia’s Studio Arts department in 2021. As a Chinese adoptee, they now nurture the dream of pursuing their studies in China. Our discussion revolved around their desire to explore the traces left by adoption through the different projects they are involved in.

The Concordian: How would you describe your artistic practice?

Tong Zhou Annie Lafrance: I am a multidisciplinary artist. That means I really enjoy doing more than one discipline, it is stimulating for me. I’ve been doing performance, installation, drawing, and fibre arts. Currently, since I’m learning Mandarin full-time, I’m trying to put this type of learning into my visual explorations, such as how I learn the language, and then put it into codes or symbols that I can refer to in my visual language. For example, now I’m doing mostly photo weaving [relating] to Chinese culture.

TC: Why did you choose to focus your work on Chinese culture?

TZAL: I think it’s a very personal choice for me because I was adopted from China. I’ve always been fascinated by Chinese culture and its visual aesthetic. However, I think there is a cultural and linguistic boundary that is really present in how I can understand the visual language. And since I’m visibly Chinese there’s also this pressure of performing “Chineseness.” For me, that is something that is quite fascinating to explore in fine arts, to explore my identity and how it expresses itself in the space with coherence and incoherence that makes it more diverse and truer to who I am.

UP CLOSE, a work by Tong Zhou and An Laurence

TC: Can you tell me about your experience with performance art?

TZAL: I got into performance when I started university. I felt like I needed to explore something that goes beyond the visual space, the two-dimensional space. Most of my classes were painting, drawing, fibres, and textiles, but I wanted to work with the gesture. Emphasizing the gesture would emphasize my search for identity. Through the body you can really do that, and it’s clearer, it’s rawer. I got into performance because I was not satisfied with the medium I was working with. Coming from a visual arts background, that’s not something we are necessarily pushed towards.

TC: You mentioned the gestures in your performances. Do you also think about those gestures when you create? For example, when you work on photo weaving? 

TZAL: Definitely. I think photo weaving is a simple gesture, but what makes it complex is the result at the end. Sometimes, I feel like through repetition, through simplicity, we can highlight more complex results at the end. Through repetition, there is also this sense of meditation that I’m really trying to think about creating. 

TC: Can you tell me more about your photo weaving series?

TZAL: What I love about photo weaving is this idea of deconstructing an image, and then trying to redo the same image, just like a puzzle. I always really enjoyed doing puzzles, so for me it is this simple task of redoing what has been undone.    

TC: How do you choose the photos you are using?

TZAL: A lot of the pictures were taken by my mother. She was always very interested in capturing the steps of our childhood, but also the process of adoption. So for me, it’s a mix between my pictures and her pictures. I think that if I want to tell my story in the right order, I need to start with the pictures of my mother first and include mine after. My pictures are more about my own subjectivity and how I see the world, which is different from my mother, but it very much replicates some angles that she used. She was doing this more as a hobby, but for me it’s transforming this hobby into an actual arts practice. 

TC: What about the zine you have worked on recently?

TZAL: It was a really nice collaboration I did with An Laurence. There are so few artists that are interested in exploring the theme of adoption. What An Laurence and I have in common is that we want to show a different aspect, an aspect that hasn’t been told yet. That’s what we were doing in our zine. We were trying to make our two art practices collide, and see what the similarities are, what are the differences between our practices. An Laurence is a performer, she has a music and multimedia background, where I am more into visual arts, so then it was really interesting to collaborate on this little piece.  

TC: Can you describe the zine a little bit more?

TZAL : The zine is really short. It is a small booklet of around 20 pages, with […] excerpts of interviews. We did a cross-interview, so we were asking questions to each other. I chose some pictures that could fit coherently with what we talked about. So, I was responsible for the design and An Laurence was responsible for the narrative that it would have.

TC: What place would you say collaborations occupy in your practice?

TZAL: The zine highlighted the fact that I needed to collaborate more in order to understand the precise visual language I want to use to talk about adoption. Since there are so few artists that are talking about this subject, it’s really important to collaborate with other people in my community. Now, I’m more interested in seeing how my own community can express themselves. I think that one of the good things that the pandemic has done is that we are more aware of the important aspect of sharing feelings with others, of understanding ourselves through others. Right now, I am collaborating with other Chinese adoptees, and we are working on a collective of researchers and artists that are based in Quebec. This collective called “Soft Gong” will be about creating a community between Quebec, Canada and China as well as seeing how it can bloom into other collaborations. We also hope to [help improve] the post-adoption services, including learning the language, learning the culture, learning the biological background. So, it’s a mix between community, arts, and research. 

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Queer Love exhibit challenges heteronormative notions of love and celebrates queerness

Early on a Monday afternoon, as I intently observed Giulio Cuccagna and his team place various works of art on the white walls of a beautifully worn-in gallery on St. Catherine St. that belongs to Smarkt, I began to wonder what exactly it takes to bring together an art exhibit like the one that was currently being set up in front of me. For Cuccagna, the process was trying at times, but he managed to carefully sift through dozens of submissions, choose a venue, and arrange the exhibit program in a matter of three months. And during a pandemic, no less. 

The Concordia Fine Arts student is in his third year, studying art history and film, with a minor in interdisciplinary studies in sexuality. Cuccagna grew up in Italy, where he recalled never being exposed to queer love stories. It wasn’t until he moved to Montreal that he began to see and experience differing expressions of love. “These experiences have driven me to curate an exhibit that would not only showcase these representations, but also bring the community together,” reads Cuccagna’s artist statement. The Queer Love exhibit, which took place on Valentine’s Day, featured works from 10 different artists, all in varying mediums. These works included paintings, sculptures, and more. Additionally, during the evening, there were live performances from Anna Justen and Monsieurmadam, and delectable food from Maison Choma to enjoy. 

The first step in the process of bringing together the Queer Love exhibit was a call-out for submissions from artists. “It was one of my favourite parts of the curation,” said Cuccagna. “I posted an open call on my Instagram, announcing that I was going to curate an exhibit on queer love and for those interested to submit their work to my email.” Within two weeks, Cuccagna received at least 50 submissions. “It was so heartwarming seeing that many people wanted to participate. My criteria was very simple. I wasn’t just looking for artworks that would fit the theme. I was looking for diversity and uniqueness. I wanted to showcase works that would represent queer love in all forms, shapes, gender, and ethnicity.”

Cuccagna believes that art dealing with identity, especially those that engage with personal struggles and emotions, helps artists progress and initiate social change. He admits that he often struggled with low self-esteem in regards to his future and career prior to this exhibit. “Now, I feel like this is the first time in my life I’ve done something ‘big,’ professionally and artistically speaking. As many of my peers [also felt], these past two years have been hell,” said Cuccagna. “We’ve all felt extremely down and unmotivated. I was so tired of waiting and being scared of the future, that I just told myself to do it. I’m also very lucky to be surrounded by the most supportive people, which have pushed me so hard to follow this dream of mine.” 

Cuccagna offers some advice for fellow artists and Fine Arts students looking to take on a similar project: “Don’t be afraid to take risks and make mistakes. Finding an affordable and available venue will be hard, so I would say to go through that research months in advance. I wouldn’t say you have to be the most organized person, but definitely write down all your ideas, make layouts and be patient!” Cuccagna also encourages artists to anticipate and be receptive to feedback, as it’s the most helpful part of the process. “There will be conflict and struggles through it, but you have to manage to stay positive because the outcome will be such a rewarding and amazing experience.”

Photos by Catherine Reynolds 

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Montreal Multi-Disciplinary Artist Esther Calixte-Bea debuts her first solo exhibition

Creation of an Ethereal World is an exhibition that will challenge your perception and make you think

Esther Calixte-Bea is one of the rising stars of Montreal’s art scene, and her most recent exhibition, also her solo debut, demonstrates that.

Step into La Centrale, located at 4296 St. Laurent Blvd., and you’ll find a universe of Calixte-Bea’s design. The exhibition, featuring artwork that Calixte-Bea created in the last two years, is truly multidisciplinary, featuring paintings, a repurposed table, writings, painted photo collages, and sculptures made from mannequins. It’s titled Creation of an Ethereal World, curated by Cécilia Bracmort.

La Centrale, where the exhibition is being held until October 28, 2021, is an artist-run space, and for decades has been the city’s sole feminist gallery. This makes it a fitting choice to house the work of an artist and activist like Calixte-Bea.

Why? She is of Haitian and Ivorian descent and her work often depicts Black women in a range of shapes, sizes and hairy states. This is part of what makes her work so distinct. How many painters can you name that focus on hairy women? Women with lots of leg hair, chest hair, and arm hair? Female body hair is still an incredibly taboo topic, and Calixte-Bea’s work is a positive (and pretty!) step towards trying to rectify that.

“I had discovered my style by the end of 2018, and had become a body hair activist in 2019, and I knew that I wanted to paint, and normalize female body hair in my art practice,” explained Calixte-Bea to The Concordian.

She is a recent graduate of Concordia’s Fine Arts program. She said that after the many group shows of her undergrad she “felt ready to have [her] first solo exhibition.”

The body hair activist appeared on the cover of Glamour UK in January 2021, making her the first woman with visible chest hair to do so. Calixte-Bea’s success today is partially due to her 2019 Lavender Project, a series of self-portraits, paired with poetry and writing which explored topics like self love, Eurocentric beauty standards, and female body hair. This project gaining significant public recognition was partially what led to Calixte-Bea’s (continuing) rise as an artist and activist.

Creation of an Ethereal World, which debuted at La Centrale on September 23, 2021, also features a unique exhibition text. It’s standard for the artist to write a short statement about their work and inspirations, and for the curator to then supplement it with commentary about the exhibition as a whole.

However, Calixte-Bea is not just any artist. Creation of an Ethereal World has an exhibition text that is unlike most you’ll come across, contained in a booklet with a bright lime green cover, printed in both English and French. Calixte-Bea was inspired to create an imaginary tribe, as represented in the artwork in Creation of an Ethereal World. The tribe (partially inspired by Calixte-Bea’s heritage belonging to the Wè tribe in Côte d’Ivoire) is called Fyète Souhou-te and they embrace female body hair. The text also contains the tribe’s instructions on important cultural information, like how to become a chief.

“I knew that I wanted to create a whole tribe, a world that was living within this world. Oftentimes when we talk about tribes we talk about them in the past, so I wanted to create a whole tribe of women that celebrate their body hair, embrace themselves and embrace their uniqueness,” explained the artist.

The paintings are all acrylic. The overall colour scheme is both bright and soft, with sunset tones like orange, pink and blue jumping out throughout the room. Bright green Astroturf grass was installed for the exhibition, adding to the pleasantly surreal feeling: think Candyland, but elevated. “I always loved using so many colours, I just love [them] and colourful things like flowers. That really comes through in my work, [plus] me growing up watching a lot of colourful cartoons,” she noted.

One of the most striking paintings in the exhibit is titled My White Barbie, 2020, which features a Barbie doll being squeezed by a hand, attached to a close-up of a woman’s torso in the background. Rich brown and cherry blossom pink tones demand attention from the viewer. “[It’s] a really personal work,” said Calixte-Bea, who explained that it was only when she was out of her childhood and teen years that she realized the full, negative extent that Eurocentric beauty standards had on her. “Growing up, you want to be the pretty one, the desirable one, but there was no representation for me,” she continued.

“Someone asked me in class why I paint Black people. It’s a funny question that people tend to ask Black artists. [White artists] don’t really get asked, why do you paint white people?” noted Calixte-Bea. “You have to paint yourself, you already don’t see yourself represented in art spaces or the media, then obviously you need to create that representation and make the difference that is needed in the world.”

 

 

 

Photograph courtesy of Kimura Byol

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Larry Achiampong’s Relic Traveller is a meditation on race, diaspora and historical preservation

The artist’s first solo exhibition in the Americas offers an immersive, thought-provoking experience for visitors

Early on a Thursday morning, I eagerly waited outside the PHI Foundation to see the new Larry Achiampong exhibition. The artist’s latest work, Relic Traveller, is a multidisciplinary exhibition that features sculptures, murals, four short films and more. Relic Traveller is the British-Ghanaian artist’s first major solo exhibition in the Americas.

Upon entering, Victoria Carrasco, one of the co-curators for the exhibition, led me through the first section. Carrasco explained to me that the relic traveller is a sort of alter ego for the artist, one that has allowed him to explore his African roots and to confront issues pertaining to race, postcolonialism and more. This exhibition, especially the films, also explores how some spaces appear to be reserved for certain individuals, namely europeans. This leaves the relic travellers to be in a constant state of movement as they attempt to find a home and to also find a place where they can leave a historical mark.

In a white-walled room with a red floor that had a clay-like texture to it, I observed seven black, faceless figures, all wearing similar navy green jumpsuits. Two of the figures were suspended from the ceiling, one with both arms positioned in front of them, and the other with one arm reaching out. Behind these figures on the wall were several flags, which closely resembled flags from existing African countries. In this room, visitors may feel as though they have been momentarily transported to space, with the two figures dangling above them, the space helmets these figures wear, and the red ground in the exhibition room bearing a striking resemblance to Mars’ sandy landscape.

The next room showcases the relic traveller in 2D form through colourful mural paintings. Achiampong utilizes every inch of this room to document the traveller’s journeys to what appears to be a land based in the future. Each wall, and even the ceiling, offers a visual narrative that can be appreciated.

The final room contained four short films, all featuring a breathtaking landscape in each one. This room was, without a doubt, the highlight of the exhibition for me. Sitting in a chair as overhead bright lights slowly dimmed to a deep red, I invested all my focus into the first film, titled Relic 0. This film follows the traveller as they wander through lush, green hills, and is Achiampong’s response to the prolonged period of time that the artist went without seeing his children due to the pandemic. In several of the films, the artist uses his two children as actors, both dressed as the relic traveller. The artist addresses his children directly, by sharing stories about their ancestry, but the film still resonates with all viewers. The pandemic presented the world with a novel form of isolation, one that won’t soon be forgotten, and this film is a stark reminder of that.

While this exhibition is deeply personal, it is also a meditation on current and past issues pertaining to race, diaspora, history and more. The pieces ask viewers to reflect on who gets to participate in the making of history, who and what deserves to be at the centre of ethnographic study, and how memories and cultural materials are (or aren’t) preserved throughout time. The very first exhibition, with its dangling mannequin-like figures, showcases a disturbance in the way ethnographic collections are presented. Typically, those who visit museums, especially ones in the West, will notice that ethnographic figures and even many objects are displayed vertically. Visitors who enter the first room will undoubtedly first notice the figures that appear upright, not the ones above them. I soon realized that the ones above head could easily be forgotten due to the fact that they do not presume the same position as the others, that they do not conform.

Additionally, in the films, the relic traveller is constantly moving, searching for a place to call home. All the while, they carry no materials with them. This makes it nearly impossible for them to leave a physical trace in history. Perhaps this is why the travellers rely so much on stories and memories, as emphasized during Relic 0 when the artist speaks to his children about ancestry. This exhibition is also, in many ways, a call to action for more Black voices to be acknowledged in cultural and historical discourses. These works highlight the racial inequalities that arise when it comes to documenting the physical and oral histories of individuals. Achiampong leaves visitors wondering, uneasily, who is worthy of being remembered?

Relic Traveller is on display at the PHI Foundation until January 9, 2022. For more information, please visit the Phi Foundation’s website.

 

Photo courtesy of Dahlia Cheng

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Arts

Feeling, touching, and hearing performance art

Art is and, for the most part, always has been a feast for the eyes. It is delightful to look at a painting and recognize the emotion in the subject’s facial expression, to experience a multicoloured light show at a concert, and to watch costumes glittering as dancers sway and leap during a performance. But what if you could not see? How does one experience art if they cannot see?

Blindfolds are required throughout the performance and audience members are directed through the performance, through touch, music, and narration.

This is a question that Audrey-Anne Bouchard wants to answer. Bouchard is a multidisciplinary artist, performer, and professor at Concordia and the National Theatre School of Canada. Her latest show camille: un rendez-vous au délà du visuel is currently being presented at Montréal, Arts Interculturels (MAI) in the Plateau.

“I asked myself, what do people who cannot see at all retain from a dance performance or theatre?” said Bouchard. “They were telling me that they are always aware that [they are] missing a part of the show, so I came up with the hope of creating a piece where they wouldn’t be missing anything.”

camille: au délà du visuel, a performance piece which tells the story of a loss of friendship, aims to create an immersive, multi-sensory experience.

“I knew from the very beginning that [the show] was going to be immersive,” said Bouchard. “For me, it meant that the spectator would be immersed in the set of the piece; they would be able to understand through space, touch, sound, and texture, the environment in which it takes place.”

Inspired by her own disability, Bouchard created au délà du visuel, or beyond sight, a project aiming to enable a new audience-one who normally wouldn’t be able to access theatre and dance shows-to experience performance art.

“[The loss of my eyesight] came very progressively,” explained Bouchard, who suffers from Stargardt’s disease. “I started losing sight when I was around 17 but it took several months before they could find out what the origin of the problem was.”

Bouchard, who has always worked within the performing arts, noted that it only occurred to her about 10 years after the fact that her practice is very visual.

“It’s interesting because I created a job for myself where I can work with my eyes closed; I created a context where my disability is not a disability at all,” she said. ‘“I did a lot of research on the visual aspect of theatre and dance and I realized that this is kind of a paradox, that I’m losing sight and working with such a visual discipline.”

This inspired Bouchard to further her research and discover what it is that artists share through their art that does not necessarily have to be shared through sight.

“It was obvious then that the piece had to be immersive,” explained Bouchard. “To share with people, I need to be close with my performers.”

camille: au délà du visuel allows for the spectator to be fully immersed in the set, alongside the performers. Blindfolds are required for those without any visual impairments and audience members are directed through the performance, through touch, music, and narration.

“We also welcome people who have different kinds of disabilities,” said Bouchard. “We can guide you through a show if you’re in a wheelchair.”

Bouchard noted that the distance between the stage and the audience is what makes performance art very visual, by default.

“If we eliminate that distance then we have access to all of [the spectators’] tools,” she explained. “[We had to find out] how can you share the performance of an actor when you don’t see him.”

The development of the project took over three years and was very theoretical. “We created a new creative process methodology with this project,” Bouchard said. Through working with people who are visually-impaired and through research, Bouchard created a new way to work.

“To share with people, I need to be close with my performers,” explained Bouchard.

This new process methodology inspired Bouchard and the team of performers and artists she works with to develop a series of workshops.

“We designed a workshop to teach students or other artists how to work that way,” Bouchard said. “I think that now we have to keep working and creating work altogether for an audience living with visual disabilities and other disabilities that we would like to address as well.” Bouchard’s workshops, which will be both interactive and theoretical, are in the works and will be further developed over the course of the upcoming year.

“I see a desire from the arts consult to encourage more accessibility […] to all kinds of audiences who don’t normally have access to the arts,” said Bouchard. “It is becoming more and more present, and it’s changing. I’m benefiting from it, but I’m also hoping to help make it happen in the future; I hope that my work is also a great example of how the creative process that we use everyday works, but that there are so many other ways to create art that can be explored.”

camille: un rendez-vous au délà du visuel is being presented until Sept. 22, at Montréal, arts interculturels, at 3680 Jeanne-Mance St., suite 103. Further details regarding showtimes can be found at www.m-a-i.qc.ca

 

Photos courtesy of Laurence Gagnon Lefebvre

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