Winter

A R T I S T I N T E R V I E W

APRIL WINTER

April Winter is a photographer living on a small island on the West coast of Canada. She primarily focuses on taking self-portraits shot on film in her studio. She builds little sets and makes her own props and costumes to create tableaux like worlds, exploring themes such as space, utopia and isolation.

Website: www.aprilwinter.com IG: @aprilbluewinter

I've always been creative, but so are most children. Maybe the difference is that my family is very creative in different ways and has always been extremely supportive of my creativity. My father makes miniature sets of run-down cityscapes with graffiti and scrap cars, my mother has a passion for fashion and landscape design, my grandmother is a musician and loves interior design, and my grandfather is a portrait painter.

Tell us a bit about yourself...

I'm originally from Hamilton, Ontario, in Canada, when it was just a run-down industrial city without much cultural spark. I moved to St. Catharines (near Niagara Falls) at age 15 to attend a boarding school, where I had the most wonderful art teacher, then moved to Toronto to attend OCADU. In 2015, my husband, dog, and I hitchhiked west, where we still find ourselves today. I live on Mayne Island, a small southern gulf island with 1,000 permanent residents. The residents are mostly retirees looking for a quiet life. I love the quiet island life, when I can find it. Don't let small towns fool you, though; gossip runs wild, forest parties run wilder, and sometimes it seems like the island never sleeps. My guilty pleasure is having copious hours of quiet alone time, but having such lively characters around can be inspiring. Which is also why I chose my day job to be so different than my creative side. I co-own a marine and diving business maintaining the island's marine equipment. It gives me time to reset my creative mind, keeps me active and inspired.

Calling oneself an artist is one of those tricky things. I would say I started calling myself one in 2017 when I started actively making bodies of work and have kept on it since then, finishing one or two projects a year. Of course, I did plenty of work before that. As a child, I was constantly creating or drawing to keep myself occupied or to ignore social situations around me. I was extremely shy and would much rather draw than play with other kids. This stayed the same until high school, where I had an incredible art teacher and art program. A small class of like-minded students, a nurturing teacher and a supply closet full of new materials for exploring. He taught us how to not only make a single piece of work but how to make a cohesive body of work with an idea behind it and also focused on keeping a sketchbook which has been essential to my creative process. There was even a photography darkroom, but back then, I was highly focused on learning how to paint and only took photos when I was bored, usually bad selfportraits. During this time, I also was very passionate about music, but I had to choose to concentrate on one or the other; I chose art. I still reminisce about the wonderful feeling of being in the middle of an orchestra. The vibrations running through the body and the feeling of being a part of something larger than yourself.

In retrospect, I believe I made the right decision. I loved making music with a group, but I always felt exposed practicing alone when I knew neighbours could hear. Now I listen to a great deal of music while brainstorming ideas and making my props and photographs.

What themes or ideas do you pursue in your work?

The themes of my work always seem to show themselves to me only in retrospect. I rarely set out for a theme, I usually start with a mixed bag of images, feelings, facts, and materials, and the theme comes to me when I do a final write-up. Some of the themes in my past work have been: Utopia Depression The Voyeur Space travel The Future of Humans History vs Future

Cabin Fever - Space Station - Celestial Body - paper mache mask Cabin Fever - Perverse Cow

How did you choose your medium, film photography?

Growing up, I was attracted to drawing. I took to my sketchbook very seriously, but I always had access to a camera when I was bored. The earliest self-portraits I can remember were made when I was about 9 years old. I posed with huge mushrooms and other things I found in the forest behind my grandmother's house. These selfportraits are sprinkled through my life until university. At OCADU, I focused on largescale self-portrait oil paintings. I would take photos of myself, then distort them in photoshop and paint them in pastel colours. An interesting mix of unattractive or revolting painted in innocent pastel. When I finished art school, my husband and I hitchhiked west and started tree planting with a company there. During the season, our dog Muli got pregnant and had her puppies. After the season, we settled in a small cabin, got a job making candles in a tiny mountainside factory and raised the puppies. When I left Ontario, I had a Nikon Fm2 film camera to document my trip, and when I

finished planting, I bought a small amount of oil paints and canvas. When I started my first painting, I was happy to be back at it after a 6-month rest. I went to work at the factory, came back and found my canvas on the ground and hundreds of puppy prints running through the wet paint and through the entire house. I realized then that my life was too hectic and transitory for painting. I took some dejected time away from creating until, too bored to function, I turned to my camera. I started taking self-portraits around the house, using the limited space and materials I had available. These inconsistent self-portraits persisted until 2017 when I moved to Mayne Island, where I finally had a small studio. Instead of starting painting in the 8x12 ft space, I took photos.

Photo by Mauro Abhül

Woodstove Winter - my first self-portrait after the failed painting

Those first couple years on Mayne were difficult. We lived in a poorly insulated trailer and didn't have running water. But washing my hair in a bucket didn't get me down; I was ecstatic to have a space of my own, even if it was only a tiny shed. We bought two acres with a 200 square foot bare-bones log cabin on it two years later. We lived in the cabin while we built up the property. Again we didn't have running water, and now we also didn't have electricity. We worked on getting solar power and a generator and refurbished the well and hand pump. We bought power tools, picked a spot in the forest and began to build my studio.

Can you tell us about your process?

The very first seed of a project usually starts somewhere out in the world. For example, in Introvert Enlightenment, I used a lot of hand-made concrete props. Around that time, I joined a construction crew building houses. I was just a labourer, but I learned a lot of things. I learned how to make forms for pouring concrete, and I became obsessed. I started pouring concrete into everything. I filled glass lamps, plastic cups, 30 rubber gloves and made my own forms out of wood. I also began building fences for people, which inspired me to build the Chromatopia picket

fence.

Sometimes, it starts with a little thing I read or something someone tells me. In Perverse Cow, I remember reading about a king who became mentally ill, believing that he was a cow. Then I usually work out the project in my sketchbook. Everywhere I go, I bring my sketchbook. I make thought webs, colour palettes, drawings of how ideally the projects pan out and lists of materials and props. Many potential projects get rolled together or dropped to a later date. During this whole process, I'm always on the lookout for props. The absolute favourite of my photographs called 'Celestial Body' includes a paper mache mask that a friend found at a landfill that he gave to me. The more people get to know me, the more people bring me really strange things. I've received 100 industrial size

Chromatopia - The Tortoise and The Hair

egg cartons, a bubble-shaped skylight, a yellow rain suit and five giant wooden flowers, to name a few. Living on a small island can be trying when it comes to getting supplies. I take a ferry to a larger island once or twice a month for the day. But 5 hours of travel reduces the time I have to find the things I need to do my work. Conversely, I have a lot of things mailed to me. I always wonder what the post office people must think of me. My last few orders have been an industrial size, flexible ventilation pipe, peacock feathers, and an LED electronics kit. Unfortunately, I don't develop my own film, and it comes down again to space. As well as ventilation and clean water. I've been going to the same photo developers for the past five years, and I've established a good relationship with them, and I trust them to always do great work. Can you tell us a bit about your cinematography projects? I've only really incorporated video into one of my projects, Cabin Fever: Space Station. I recorded using an old VHS camcorder someone had given me. I think I don't do it more because of archiving. I love using 35mm and 120mm photography films. The most rewarding feeling of my entire artistic practice is when I slide those strips into the archival sleeves and label everything. I can't do that as well with video, so I'm less inclined to use it.

Cabin Fever - Blue Zoo

Do you actively search for inspiration or let inspiration find you? Like I said, a lot of inspiration just hits me, but I think it's because I actively observe my environment and understand that anything can be an inspiration. But I also do a lot of research on far-reaching topics. At the beginning of my project 'Exodus to Europa' , I made myself a reading list. Light: Science and Magic by Fil Hunter 20,000 Years of Fashion by Francois Boucher Expedition: Fashion From the Extreme by Elizabeth Way From Antarctica to Outerspace These books really shaped how the project unfolded.

o s h o t p h t i g n g i n a k t e m o f a s u k L y b s h o t A i e s p u p P s i ' u l M d a n a s u k L d a n u s b H y M

How did your practice evolve or unfold over the years?

In the beginning, when I stopped painting and focused on photography, I set up a very simple set, for example, putting tinfoil over the walls. I would set up my Nikon Fm2 on my husband's old tripod. I would stand in front of the camera, thinking of a pose, then put something in my place, go behind the camera, focus on the thing, remove the thing, put the self-timer on, then run back into position, attempt to look composed, then do it all again. With time I developed new techniques. For example, I learned to tape a flexible measuring tape into the hot shoe to measure the distance from my eye to focus. Then I bought a long shutter release cable with a ball, which allowed me to stay in position before the photo was taken, but I still needed to get up and wind the film.

My setup changed a lot last year when I bought a Nikon f5. It has automatic winding and a wireless shutter release with programmable settings. Now I can be in front of the camera the whole time without too much moving, which allowed me to focus on more elaborate costumes and props.

Working in my studio How does a typical day in the studio look like?

My ideal day, which happens often enough, starts at 6:30 when my husband wakes up and starts a fire. When he comes back to bed (which is sort of a loft bed), he tells our dogs Muli and Haza to jump up and we all cozy under the covers for another 15 minutes. Then we get up. I go for a run to clear my head. We have breakfast and have coffee. I feed the chickens then go up the hill to my studio. If I have the materials I need, I can work away for four to six hours without noticing any time going by. Everything just flows. Some tasks might be sewing, painting, cutting, sanding and gluing wood. The studio is divided in two, the making side and the shooting side. If I'm doing a shoot that day, I clean up the studio to maximize space. I let down a white fabric divider so the making side doesn't reflect in any props. Then I adjust the lights on a series of brackets on the wall, I set up the tripod and choose film and camera for the project. This year I upgraded the Nikon Fm2 to the Nikon F5. With the set ready, I turn on some music, put makeup on (if applicable), do my hair and put the costume on. I take a few deep breaths. Working in such a small space with hot makeup and costumes can quickly become overwhelmingly claustrophobic. Keeping my mind on what's in the frame, envisioning the composition, trying to control my facial expression, staying still, hiding the shutter release control, trying not to smudge my makeup, keeping my helmet from falling off or fogging up. It's a miracle any of the photos turn out. The later afternoon consists of chores and playing with the dogs outside. In the evenings, I focus on office work or research and reading. Then I end the whole day with a movie and dog snuggles on the couch. The secret ingredients to the whole process are enough coffee and dogs.

You do a lot of self-portraits. How do you draw the line between yourself as a subject of your own work and personal life? Do they overlap? Is this line blurry or strong?

I like to draw a very distinct visual line between the two parts of me. I wear neutralcoloured clothing in public, and I don't wear makeup. I'm not flashy. I'm quiet, and I just try to blend in. If I could choose one superpower, it would be invisibility.

In my head is a different story. I'm constantly on the lookout for interesting colour combinations, strange shapes and patterns, characters, hair do's, free stuff. My second self is constantly on my mind, but it is also my little secret inside of me, propelling me forward.

Hide and Seek

Tell us a bit about your project Hide and Seek.

In early 2019 I was thinking about a theoretical space where someone could go, completely isolated and how that person might change once they got there, knowing they were free to be whoever they actually felt they were. The narrative in my head revolved somewhere between space travelling and travelling your psyche to find this place. When I started constructing my false floor for the project in February 2020, I realized the expanded meaning of the work when mandatory mask regulations began rolling out. I was creating a series about the figurative mask people put on every day to be around others and a refuge to isolate themselves from that pressure. The parallels between the project and society's change in 2020 felt significant to me.

Would you say other artists or art genres have influenced your practice? If yes, how?

I definitely look to artists working in other genres than myself for inspiration, mainly to see what kinds of materials they use and how they put them to use. It helps me evolve as an artist to constantly learn new techniques and test new materials that I might not know existed if not for following other artists. One artist that comes to mind is Polly Morgan, a sculptor from London who works with taxidermy. I find her new work using mould-making techniques especially interesting.

Cabin Fever - Introvert Enightenment What is your dream project? (let's say, in an ideal world where money, time, space were not a constraint)

I would love to transform my own two-acre property into something like the Tarot Garden by Niki de Saint Phalle but in my own style. Creating an otherworld funhouse. I would put a 30-foot sailboat in my 40-foot pond and make a treehouse

library in the shape of a spaceship. I would surround the property with topiary (sculpted hedges), remove the culvert under my driveway, and replace it with a draw bridge.

Tell us a bit about the future (any plans, upcoming projects, news).

In 2022 I'll start a new project thinking about humans far, far in the future and how their lives may evolve. Focusing on how they may rely on science, expertise and minimalism to survive. I think humans of the future will manipulate the power of biology and microorganisms when fossil fuels become increasingly inaccessible. With this in mind, I'm going to build my own Photobioreactor, which essentially is a clear container (of unlimited shapes and forms) full of microalgae. Algae, a source of protein and nutrition, fuel, fertilizer, bioplastics and wastewater treatment, will be a stepping stone to get humans to the future. My next project will also include LEDs, simple electronics, prosthetics, lab equipment and, of course, self-portraiture.