RISE – The Concordian

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.

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 an “opera 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

Article written by Maggie Hope and Olivia Deresti-Robinson

Michelle Latimer spoke about the importance of her new series with VICE at a recent screening

“It changed my life to be there. It’s very rare as a filmmaker that you actually get to revisit your heritage and what means the most to you,” said writer, producer and director Michelle Latimer at a recent screening of her films Sacred Water and Red Power. The films received a standing ovation from the crowd, which brought Latimer and several audience members to tears.

As part of their fall programming, Cinema Politica screened two films by Latimer on Oct. 2. Latimer, a graduate of Concordia’s film program, partnered with VICE Canada to make RISE, an eight-part series that showcases “Indigenous communities across the Americas […] protecting their homelands and rising up against colonization,” according to VICE’s website.

Cinema Politica screened the first two parts of the series, titled Sacred Water and Red Power, which document the events surrounding the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) protests that took place at the Standing Rock reservation in North and South Dakota last year. The screening was followed by a discussion with the filmmaker, who is in Montreal to be part of Cinema Politica’s jury at the Festival du Nouveau Cinema.

Sacred Water introduces DAPL and what its installation means for the Indigenous communities that live in its path. Essentially, if built in its entirety, DAPL would destroy about 380 sacred sites that are home to a variety of Indigenous tribes in the central United States. Additionally, the pipeline would threaten the water supply of all Indigenous tribes living along the Missouri River and in the surrounding area. Red Power expands on the political dynamics that surround the pipeline and uses historical footage to show how the Indigenous population in the area have been treated throughout history.

Latimer, who is Algonquin Metis, spent nine months at the reserve getting to know the growing community there and documenting their struggle to hold onto their land. At the screening, Latimer admitted that, although she knew the Standing Rock protests would be important to record, she did not anticipate the duration and size to which they would grow. The filmmaker chose to partner with VICE Canada for her films to reach a larger audience than she would have had on her own.

While the concept of land ownership is a point of contention between Indigenous and non-Indigenous populations, the basic premise of the first two films is that the land the pipeline is set to cut through is extremely important to a large population of Indigenous people. They do not claim to “own” the land, but instead emphasize that generations of their people have lived off of it and it is not the U.S. government’s to take.

In addition to running through sacred land, the construction of DAPL began without a building permit that needed approval from the Sioux tribe, who live on the Standing Rock reserve. The Sioux people, who call themselves water protectors, denied DAPL access to their land. In August 2016, however, the pipeline began construction despite not being approved.

How dire this situation became is something Latimer emphasized after the films ended. “In my nine months there, I realized I’m willing to die for this. It gives a kind of power and personal journey to those films. I think you see the importance of what people are fighting for and why,” the filmmaker said.

Unfortunately, less than a month after the water protectors’ short-lived victory on Dec. 4 2016, President Trump’s administration made the decision to follow through with the construction of the pipeline and everything the Sioux fought against. Latimer mentioned that DAPL is fully functioning today, already with a spill within the first three months of its construction.

Although it may seem like the battle is completely lost, Latimer encouraged viewers to find the positives in the situation. She emphasized that what happened at Standing Rock can give us power and hope for the future. The DAPL protests were just the beginning of a bigger battle that we must continue to fight. Latimer noted that there are other pipeline projects that need to be stopped—such as the Kinder Morgan and Line 3—and action is already being taken to do so.

The impact of the Standing Rock protests has already taken effect. “[What’s] happening since Standing Rock is people are mobilizing, and they’re connecting, and they’re already looking at how to mobilize against these larger infrastructure projects,” Latimer explained.

In times as dark as these, Latimer added, light is what brings people together and encourages them to keep going. An influential form of light, she said, is creating art. “Due to the onset of surveillance and undercover informants at the camp, there was a level of paranoia that started that was really scary to be a part of […] and art was the thing that lifted people’s spirits.”

She explained that there were drum circles and concerts which took place almost every night at the Standing Rock reservation, as well as poster and banner-making tents which helped ignite participants’ spirits and gave them hope. Latimer found that her filmmaking allowed her to express her point of view as an Indigenous person and “channel” the stories of those around her.

Latimer and the other Indigenous protesters in the film highlighted that the installation of these pipelines is not just an Indigenous issue—it concerns all of us. This is an environmental issue, a social issue, a global issue. “We have this planet to protect, and it’s all we’ve got,” she concluded.

Sacred Water, Red Power and the rest of the RISE series can be found on VICE’s website. For upcoming Cinema Politica screenings at Concordia, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia. Screenings are held in the Hall building in room H-110 every Monday at 7 p.m. Entry is by donation ($5 to $10 is suggested).