57 Issue 05
Clarity
The Neglected Women’s Centre | Portrait of a Woman in Soccer: Sophia Pather Culture Shock | Forging a Different Path in Media | CapU’s First Indigenous Vendor Market | “Out with the Old, In with the New” A Post-Christmas Interview With The Clauses
Who is really governing me?
On the idea of “Clarity”
Co-Editors in Chief
Avery Nowicki (they/them)
Sara Brinkac (She :) They :D He :0)
A prayer for clarity:
The body and mind are a tangled pair. Both crave harmony yet seem to roam in deserted hallways half remembering a companion it used to be connected to. The mind, perhaps bored, or perhaps frustrated, decides to skip off into the psychic worlds of our creation instead. This makes sense, as it is quite an important world of deadlines, plans, the need for solutions, debates, constant comparison, wanting and is never lacking of a constant pull toward another frontier. The body, keeper of many memories, many emotions, many mysterious forces is pulled off by the slender thread of connection to the mind. With blind eyes the body feels its way through its journey of the mind’s whims and, yet contrary to its feeble demeanor, and completely unbeknownst to the mind, the body tugs and vibrates its delicate thread on this excursion to subtly direct course.
Often, it is believed the mind is the centre of our being. After all, the mind is the planner, the decision maker, the winner and the loser. The mind is what compiles and determines our identity in the world. It is at this moment of thought however, the body, with its host of stored information, keen sensitivity and intuition coughs, forgotten in the corner. For it isn’t until those fateful nights where the mouth releases unexpected words, the mind is flooded with a storm of unwanted thoughts, the hands act in ways we are shocked and saddened by, that our mind begins the search for its other half—unaware of that curious thread gently tied around its being.
Instead, a pilgrimage is made back into the depths of self. There is a desperate search to find the culprit. To find the one feeling these things, making these decisions against all reason. Who is really governing me? I had these plans, I made sense of it all, but suddenly, there is something feeling a very irrational way. Someone has done something to me quite unpleasant, quite unexpected. A spectre on the other side of the world acted in the most curious of ways and set off a reaction that sputters and sparks to my doorstep, affecting my course of life forever. How can this be, who is responsible?
The mind will poke and pry at the truth to the point of exhaustion. Trying to conceive the universe in a brain that is laughable in comparison to the intelligence it exists in. After months of starved staggering through long dusty
roads, the mind falls to its knees, ripped eyelashes in squeezed lids, head to the ground and palms faced open. Here it will surrender to whatever it was that brought them to this place, sobbing and pleading for an answer.
For a moment it is silent, the eye of the storm has been reached.
It is only in that prostrated moment of surrender that a certain remarkable thing begins to happen.
Rest.
The feeling of rest courses through the now materialized body. The forgotten creature hidden in the shadow of thought forced on this desperate pilgrimage. The body softly smiles, what a wonderful feeling of rest this is.
The mind now silent, only concentrating on the frayed and tattered thread that went unnoticed for years, watches with grace, the tender care of repair enacted by the body, the ease of reflection that arises and the tranquility of harmony. These are not loud things that offer answers with light and shouts. These are the revelations of a rose’s languid scent, or a lilac breeze. These are the whispers and movements of the body.
Just as mist rises from the lake at sunrise, so the need for answers and the pressure of time evaporates from the mind’s eye. What is left is a peaceful scene; the sky, perfectly reflected in the lake’s mirror, a crystal reflection of hanging trees, floating clouds, and here, leaning over it all, the self that had been so desperately searched for. Looking deeper into the mirror the self sees the pristine water that offers a view of life below the surface, the coloured rocks, the dancing minnows, the floating weeds, the gentle currents. All is seen through, all is reflected on, in this moment of peace the gift of clarity appears. How utterly precious.
Now.
How shall we live with this connection?
All my love,
Sara Brinkac
Business Manager
Prem Monpara business @capilanocourier.com
Social Media Manager
Glitter Esquivias socialmedia @capilanocourier.com
Sports
Video Production Manager
Laura Morales videoproduction @capilanocourier.com
Zine Manager
Mia Lancaster zinemanager @capilanocourier.com
Production Manager Andy Poystila production @capilanocourier.com
News Beat Reporter Niko Williamson beatreporter @capilanocourier.com
Art Director
Angelica Blanch design @capilanocourier.com
News Editor
Livia Pica newseditor @capilanocourier.com
Letters Editor
Jordan Tomlinson letters @capilanocourier.com
Videographer
Kiki Evans
videographerkiki @capilanocourier.com
Crew Writer
Sean Finan
crewwritersean @capilanocourier.com
Humour Editor
Adam Wallace humour @capilanocourier.com
Crew Writer
Kate Henderson
crewwriterkate @capilanocourier.com
Crew Illustrator
Jordan Richert crewillustrator @capilanocourier.com
Videographer
Lucas Isidoro videographerlucas @capilanocourier.com
Crew Writer
Yasmine Modaresi crewwriteryasmine @capilanocourier.com
Crew Photographer
Sophie Serendip crewphotographer @capilanocourier.com
Videographer
Christien Di Angello
videographerchristien @capilanocourier.com
Crew Writer
Lily Rosen crewwriterlily @capilanocourier.com
Advising Manager
Freya Emery
& Contributors
Contributors
Mizuki Kinoshita, Anonymous, Ariana Zumaran Castillo, Eugenia de Coss, Luciana Mastrangelo, Jasmin Linton.
Illustrators
Catherine Rosales, Annika McFarlane, Lera Kim, Millie Beach, Lauren Howard, Cassie VP, Andrei Gueco, Rachel Lu, Scarlett Side, Kyla Seguiban, Livvy Hung.
Cover Art & Photo Series
Sophie Serendip.
Featured Artwork
Louis Yau.
Head on over to capilanocourier.com for more featured articles!
Interested in contributing?
Email editor@capilanocourier.com for potential writers, and production@capilanocourier.com for interested illustrators and/or photographers. Illustrators and Photographers are required to send a portfolio or sample(s) of work.
Contributors :)
The Neglected Women’s Centre
“A lot more love could be poured into this space” – Niko Williamson
Kate Henderson (she/they)
Crew Writer
Illustrator
Catherine Rosales (she/her)
On the Birch Building’s third floor lies a hidden spot, quiet and spacious. room filled with couches, lamps, a kitchenette for tea and outlets for charging. It’s room 310, the Women’s Centre, one of Capilano University’s support centres. The room is accessible with a student ID card (that identifies the holder’s gender according to what was indicated in the CapU student profile). The Women’s Centre should feel like a cozy haven, but a closer look reveals that the couches have stains, there’s a kettle on the floor, the lamp shades are dusty and shifted, the fridge cradles empty plastic and blotches of grime. Altogether, this state can only bring to question who is responsible for maintaining this space, why it is in such disarray and what this could imply about this school’s care for its community of women.
Managed by the Capilano Students Union (CSU), the Women’s Centre has been a resource at CapU for approximately five years, during which it moved spaces frequently. Niko Williamson, the Women’s Student Liaison from 2022 to 2023, explains their “move during COVID was the most difficult,” elaborating that “the CSU updated the website with its new location directly after the move, but CapU was slow to update the location online.” Williamson shares frustration with the confusion this has caused. From lockdown until now, the Women’s Centre continues to be hidden in plain sight. With the last move to an old computer lab on Birch’s third floor, Williamson advocated to keep this space, ready to promote and develop this as the permanent home of the women’s centre.
Capilano Courier spoke with current Women’s Student Liaison, Sukham Kaur, on the aftermath of the Women’s Centre’s settling, and the upkeep of this new space. “I try to regularly check up on the space, restocking tea Mondays and Thursdays, while my friends restock tea on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays,” Kaur explained. However, Williamson has not seen the tea restocked
this fall semester. Additionally, the Courier interviewed student Maya Hickling, who visits the Women’s Centre weekly, sharing that, “the cleanest [she’s] seen the women’s centre was in September,” with only gradual decline from there.
According to Kaur, while she is the Women’s Student Liaison, Kate Jarman, Director of Advocacy of the CSU, fulfills the majority of maintenance of the space. Jarman was unavailable for comment. When asked about the maintenance of the space, Kaur shared many goals about improving its current state, such as installation of more cozy furniture, as the current furniture was recycled from an unused space at CapU during its move (according to Williamson). Kaur also expressed a desire to buy multiple blankets, cushions and even quiet activity options such as board games or magazines, wanting to bring the, “cozy back to the space.”
Altogether, it brings into question when and how this “cozy plan” will be enacted. “Each resource space is allocated a budget, which we then put proposals forward for spending within this budget.” Kaur shares, “Sometimes, if a budget extension is needed, a separate request must be sent before the proposal can actually be made.” The Courier asked whether a budget extension request was inhibiting Kaur’s timeline for her current plan of improvement for the Women’s Centre. Kaur replied that no budget extension would be required, elaborating that it is a matter of submitting the proposal. All of this considered, it brings to question how effective this system of executing student services is. “I remember when I was the Women’s Student Liason, it took four months for facilities to process my request to move a larger table into the Women’s Centre,” Williamson elaborates, showing the clear delay that comes in the bureaucracy of CapU’s proposal processing.
With an understanding of the Women’s Centre history, and a complicated strain of communication within and outside of the CSU, it brings to question what level of disarray is acceptable to the CSU, and when Kaur will successfully complete this request, and when that request will even be approved and completed with facilities. In the meantime, the hand sanitizer unit of the Women’s Centre remains on the floor, gathering dust.
International Students in the Liminal Space
The pathway to permanent residency has turned into a maze
Video Production Manager
Laura Morales Padilla (she/her)
Illustrator
Annika McFarlane (she/her)
“68 per cent indicated that if having a Canadian post-secondary education did not increase their chances of getting PR, then they wouldn’t have chosen to study in Canada”
Despite an increase in international tuition fees, unaffordable housing options and long bus lines, the number of international students continues to grow at postsecondary institutions in Canada. So, why do international students put up with these unfair conditions? According to the latest survey conducted by the Capilano Courier, it is because they want to become permanent residents.
“[I] wanted a better life so yeah, if I’m paying so much I need PR,” stated one of the 60 international students surveyed. The results show that 70 per cent applied for a study permit with the intention of obtaining permanent residency (PR), and 68 per cent indicated that if having a Canadian post-secondary education did not increase their chances of getting PR, then they wouldn’t have chosen to study in Canada. So, where did these expectations come from, and how feasible is Canadian post-secondary education as a pathway to PR?
In 2012, the Advisory Panel on Canada’s International Education Strategy provided a report about Canada’s “opportunity and capacity for strong growth in attracting international students.” The panel envisioned attracting 450,000 students by 2022, double the number they had at the time, with the rationale that immigration through international education is, “one of the safest immigration paths, as students can demonstrate their capabilities to adapt and succeed through their education period.” A Statistics Canada report released in 2022 examined international students as a growing source of labour and found that they “face fewer obstacles with respect to credential recognition and language proficiency, are familiar with the culture, and have already built social networks in Canada.” When the minister of IRCC Marc Miller announced that Canada was to host around 900,000 international students in 2023, the public concern around housing and immigration started to grow, and so did the scapegoating of international students. So, how does this system work and why has it become unsustainable?
If an international student finishes a two-year program (or longer) at a Canadian Designated Learning Institution, and then works for one year under a Post-Graduation Work Permit (PGWP), they can apply for permanent residency. Word choice alert: They can apply, meaning that PR is far from guaranteed. Still, 82 per cent of interviewed international students knew about this PR formula as it is commonly pitched to them by recruitment agencies. The question is, how feasible is Canadian education as a pathway to PR nowadays?
The Canadian Government selects the best candidates for permanent residency by sorting them into programs and giving them a score depending on factors such as age, spousal status, level of education, work experience and language fluency. For international students, the Canadian Experience Class (CEC) program managed through Express Entry is the most frequent pathway to permanent residency; they become part of the CEC pool of candidates by following the PR formula. The highest-ranking candidates receive an invitation to apply (ITA) for permanent residency in “rounds of invitations.” The number of ITAs are tied to the needs of the labour market. What are the probabilities of an international student finding themselves among the lucky few? Along with the number of ITAs issued at a particular round, the score of the lowestranked candidate invited is available to the public. This is our best indicator of how competitive it is to get an ITA; bigger numbers of ITAs issued and smaller scores of lowest-ranked candidates mean higher probabilities.
Take a CapU student who followed the PR formula—meaning they finished a two-year degree and worked for one year— their score as a CEC candidate would be 437 out of 1200, if they are under the age of 29 and secured the maximum score in their English proficiency test. Now, for a student who finished a bachelor’s degree and worked for three years, the score would be 510. Additional points are granted for those with French language skills, arranged employment, and other case-by-case factors. The question is, are these points competitive enough?
In the CEC specific rounds that happened in 2021, the score of the lowest ranked candidate invited ranged from 357 to 462. At the time, the score of a former international student who followed the PR formula was enough to get an ITA. However, in the CEC rounds that took place in 2024, the scores of the lowest-ranked candidates invited ranged between 507 and 547. So, the scores from two and four-year programs paired with only one year of work experience are currently not enough to make the cut, while the number of candidates for Express Entry with scores between 501 and 600 have more than doubled from 7,633 in 2021 to 16,495 in November 2024.
For an international student who wants to get PR, the solution is not as simple as changing from a two-year to a four-year program. By the time they graduate and gain work experience,
they are likely to find the minimum score has increased. Moreover, it is hard to predict what the needs of the province will be next year, let alone four years from now. As the Canadian government, post-secondary institutions, and recruitment agencies market Canadian education as a pathway to PR, they fail to communicate that the chances of an international student becoming a permanent resident have more to do with labour market needs and public opinion around immigration than with their scores.
If international students lack a reasonable chance of becoming permanent residents, new questions arise: should international students continue to trust the system? Or is the post-secondary education system exploiting this trust? There has been very little incentive for these institutions to improve conditions for international students, but without PR as bait, they will have to assess if what they are offering is enough.
“They fail to communicate that the chances of an international student becoming a permanent resident have more to do with labour market needs and public opinion around immigration than with their scores.”
Portrait of a Woman in Soccer: Sophie Pather
Juggling academics and athletics like the pro she is.
Lera Kim
Illustrator
Meet Sophie Pather, one of the standout athletes on Capilano University’s women’s soccer team. As a third-year Kinesiology major from North Vancouver, Pather chose CapU for its accessibility and the glowing recommendations she received from her family and friends. “The culture and education here felt like the right fit,” she explains. Staying close to home allowed Sophie to remain connected to her roots while embracing the opportunities CapU offers, both in academics and athletics.
Pather’s passion for soccer began early in life, sparked by her family’s love of sports. “My parents put me on a soccer team when I was just four years old, and I fell in love with the game from my very first practice,” she shares. Growing up in a household where watching soccer games was a daily TV routine, Pather naturally developed a competitive spirit. Soccer wasn’t just a game; it was a way of life that brought her and her family closer together.
“What I love most about soccer is that it’s a team sport,” Pather says with enthusiasm. “It’s all about coming together, combining skill, passion and determination to achieve something bigger than yourself.” This spirit of collaboration has driven her success with the Capilano University Blues—CapU’s soccer team—where she’s built more than just success, but also lasting friendships and contributed to the team’s remarkable achievements.
One of Pather’s proudest moments came this year when the team hosted the Nationals on their new field in Squamish (Check out last issue’s piece about the Nationals or the soccer field review in this issue). “Winning the bronze medal at Nationals was incredible,” Pather reflects. “It wasn’t just about the medal, it was about proving to ourselves and the rest of Canada that we deserved to be there. That sense of accomplishment will stay with me forever.”
However, the path to success hasn’t been without its challenges. Pather recalls one of her most gruelling experiences: playing
(she/her)
Mizuki Kinoshita (she/her)
Contributor
four back-to-back games. “It was both mentally and physically exhausting, easily the most soccer I’ve ever played in such a short time,” she admits. Yet, with determination and the support of her teammates, Pather persevered. “We relied on our physio team, rehab machines and lots of hydration to get through. Moments like that really test you, but they also remind you why being part of a team is so special. We help each other push past our limits.”
Balancing academics and athletics has been another challenge Pather has had to navigate. As a Kinesiology major, her coursework is demanding, but she has learned how to maintain a balance. “The key is having a routine,” she says. “I make time for breaks during long days to prevent burnout and focus on recovery. Whether it’s stretching, visiting the physio or simply listening to what my body needs, I’ve realized that balance is everything.” This mindful approach has not only helped Pather excel in her studies but also ensured she remains at peak performance on the field.
Looking ahead, Pather’s aspirations are as ambitious as her current endeavours. After graduating, she dreams of playing soccer professionally on the international stage. Beyond her athletic career, she plans to channel her love for movement and sports into a career in physiotherapy.
Pather’s story is one of resilience, teamwork and dedication. Whether she’s scoring goals, overcoming challenges or finding harmony between school and sports, Pather embodies the qualities of a true leader. Her passion for soccer and her commitment to personal growth make her a role model for her teammates, classmates and aspiring athletes alike. From her first kick of the ball as a four-year-old, to standing on the podium at Nationals, Pather’s journey has been nothing short of inspiring. With her sights set on international soccer and a future in physiotherapy, the world is undoubtedly hers to conquer.
Intramurals
Are What? Intra-Sting!
Janique De Leon speaks on how you can participate in Intramurals at CapU.
Crew Writer
Sean Finan (Any)
Crew Illustrator
Jordan Richert (he/him)
“ Intramurals, though it may seem tedious with regard to registration, are one of Rec’s fun activities offered to destress students from university life.”
Children are obligated to participate in gym class, which is loved by some, but just as much dreaded by others. Gym class does have a purpose, though. This bit of physical activity during your day can be a necessary pause for brain-building and a boost for the never-ending use of your overworked mind.
However, in university this mandated monkey movement is made optional, causing students to often opt out altogether. This not only limits necessary daily exercise but also the incredible bonding that occurs when one participates in team sports. I admit that I have been limiting myself thus far in my two and a half years at Capilano University, and now I’m feeling ready to put myself out there again.
Chatting with Janique De Leon, the host of CapU’s soccer Intramurals, to learn about Intramurals and student involvement taught me the following:
“Intramurals promote student unity and teamwork,” De Leon said when asked what Intramurals were all about. “Some may see it just as similar to a regular gym drop-in; however, what makes it different is that it’s a weekly thing, almost like a regular university class.”
So how does it work? “Attendees are grouped into teams and play, practicing sportsmanship and overall enjoying the sport with those who share the same passion and dedication,” De Leon responded. I felt like I had a solid grasp on the concept at this point so I asked how students could sign up.
“[Students] have to be sure to have an account with [CapU] Rec, and then register their name under the sport they wish to play for Intramurals,” said De Leon. Adding that Intramurals are “FREE,” in all caps for emphasis.
At this point, I had already signed up for badminton, dance and yoga. So, I asked how I could best enjoy these experiences, to which she replied, “Have fun and keep safe! Intramurals, though it may seem tedious with regard to registration, are one of Rec’s fun activities offered to destress students from university life.”
“Just seeing students playing with a smile on their faces is enough to make my every shift worth working.” Hearing De Leon talk about the Intramurals, I grew curious about her passion for organizing and hosting fun sports events. “Our end-of-term soccer championships are most definitely an event I look forward to. I highly recommend everyone to pop in at the Sports & Recreation Centre gym to watch, or maybe even participate. The games get really hyped, and the soccer guys never fail to put on a show,” she said.
Intramurals seem to be a great way to stay active and make friends! I will give them a try and let you know how I liked yoga, badminton and dance in a future issue!
Dear Peyton
CW: mention of suicide, self-harm
Dear Peyton,
I think it was about nine hours after I found out you died when you visited me one last time. Dream or not, what I remember is a colorless world with dust motes passing through my vision like a blurry bokeh of grey; it was that uncanny feeling of being underwater, where time was syrup and sound was hollow. Then, my vision saturated with dazzling blue, true hues of sapphire and sky: your hair, filling the frame, and your smile appearing out of the waves. I reached out for you but my hand missed, only managing to catch the end of the contrails you left behind.
Contributor Anonymous Illustrator
Jasmin Linton (she/her)
To this day, I think about what it would have been like to be a close friend of yours. We were in the same classes, we both drew a lot, we had mutual friends, we loved music and we were both active in social justice circles. I remember the warm, friendly smiles we shared when we happened to pass each other in the hallways. I was envious of your colored hair, your perfect winged eyeliner and the classic Doc Martens you always wore. You were my queer icon before I knew what queer meant. Seeing you snuggled up with another girl on the metal yellow benches at our school planted something in me.
I think the last time we spoke in person was when we were both trying to find the meeting room for a climate action gathering at the Central Public Library. We chatted and bonded over being lost and late, and I hoped that we would hang out after the meeting and become closer friends. I remember that time stopped for me in the moment that I saw some scars on your arm. Here we were, two teenagers in high school, hoping to save the world while also trying to save ourselves. We were walking on different, separate paths that were parallel to one another; never meeting but close enough to walk side by side. I never got to ask you if you were okay, or if we could hang out or tell you that you were not alone in what you were going through. I really, really, regret never saying these things.
Then the pandemic hit, and the Library meeting would be the last time I ever saw you.
It’s always a strange feeling to realize that someone is gone forever. It makes no sense. You were there and then you were not. You were alive and then you were dead. You were smiling and laughing and then you were cremated and put in a box. How can the human brain comprehend such a loss? I want to scream the words: What do you mean I will never speak to you again? What do you mean I will never see a new art piece from you? Why is it that whenever I try to capture this grief do all the necessary words leave me?
I couldn’t come to your memorial because of COVID restrictions. I wanted to, but I also didn’t, because I didn’t know if I could handle the crying, the holding, the recognition that you were truly gone and this wasn’t just a dream. Instead, I monitored your memorial page every hour, every day, for weeks with email notifications on, reading the messages that people left behind. I would memorize your face over and over again, reading the memorial post and other peoples’ writing so many times until I could play a whole movie in my head of what I thought your life was like. I wanted to reenact and recreate enough memories so that I would become you, so I could understand why you did it, so I could feel closer to you to compensate for my shitty failure of not getting to know you more when you were alive. I was so angry. Angry at your family, angry at anybody who ever wronged you, angry at the school, at the system, at myself. Every day I would wish it was me instead of you. That somehow it was a transactional system where we could switch; make a deal with death and exchange our souls. Become locked in a supernatural agreement that would mean my eternal suffering to pay your way back to the land of the living. But honestly Peyton, I was so prepared and willing to trade our places because in the deepest, darkest part of me, I was jealous of you. This is the first time I’ve admitted that to myself, but I feel that you deserve all of me, not just part of the way you affected me.
I was about two or three weeks deep in a government mental health program when I found out you were on the waitlist for it before you passed away. I would blame myself, cursing that I had taken that spot from you. It didn’t matter to me that you might have needed something different, or that you might have already been accepted into the program. All nuance was erased in the wake of my one-track mind, running through biased scenarios millions of times that solidified in my brain. My spun narrative, a tornado standing in the same spot. You were on the waiting list, you had died waiting, and I had a part in your death.
As I write this four years later, I wish someone could have told me that obsessing over your death and making it my mission to find out in whatever way I could the events and timeline that led up to you taking your life was not the way to honour you. Was not the way to deal with the grief of losing you. Was not helping me in any way and instead was active self-harm. But it was coping anyhow. My fantasies ran wild in trying to identify any moment I could have intervened and I’m sure I created a story of you in my head that was not your truth. I couldn’t accept that I would never know the truth. Or, the truth that it was nobody’s fault. Not yours either. Maybe there wasn’t even a truth. Maybe there was nothing for me to discover. Maybe it’s not mine to look into.
You never left my mind in the year following when we went back to school, albeit completely changed due to staggered entry times and class length modifications. It did not escape me that we were all in 12th grade and receiving our diplomas while you were stuck at Grade 11. Our growing age gap was another reminder that I was drifting away from you, along with the memories of you I would inevitably lose. I waited for the school to release a statement about you. I searched the yearbooks for your name. I waited for there to be any mention of you while we prepared for our graduation. I saw it one day, walking past the lockers. A photo of you lovingly decorated with paper hearts.
All this is to say, Peyton, that I miss you, and I love you. I hope wherever you are you are at peace and you’re shining your beautiful light there. I don’t know if in your last moments you felt people wouldn’t care if you were gone, but in every way possible, that is not the case. From your closest friend to the person you opened the door for at work, we were all touched by who you were. Who you still are, alive in all of us who felt, and feel, your warmth. You were a child who deserved to grow up.
I know that if you were here, you would probably be going to drag shows after your classes at university for art or writing, participating in social justice rallies, running charity events and art pop-ups with friends, visiting cafes and reading books with your headphones in or getting a new tattoo on your arm. Maybe we’d make sellable patches together, or doodle stickers to use in fundraising. Maybe we would complain about our professor troubles and double over about our antics in class. Maybe I would help dye the back of your head and you would bleach a front strand of my deep black hair.
Until then, Peyton, I miss you and I look forward to the day when we meet again.
At The End
Eugenia de Coss (she/her)
Contributor
A last hug from Mom. The last bite of cookie with hot chocolate from Grandma. The last trip to the cinema with your best friend. Annie missed another day with precious memories. She had promised herself to spend more time with friends and family, but her current study schedule had been full of worksheets, group projects and written papers. She didn’t have enough time to balance her schedule without having a panic attack.
She sat on the family sofa, hugging her legs tightly, as the news explained the world was going to end in about 14 days. It took a few minutes for people on social media to comment with panic that the government was lying to the public to avoid a major chaos. Annie also began to question if the facts in the news program were true, or were white lies.
She held her cheeks tight using her both hands. Her phone slipped from her lap onto the wooden floor. She shook to the point that it was hard to hold her own face.
She shook her head and cried. A buzzing sounded on the floor. Even if she knew that it was a phone call from her mother, she would have left it on the floor. She wanted to hold the phone until she realized she was shaking violently. She couldn’t even hold a tissue. Her heartbeat was racing as though she was at the end of a long marathon. She felt that the room was spinning non-stop. She had to stop and rest for a minute.
Tears ran down her face. Her breathing was fast and shallow. The phone kept buzzing on the ground. Non-stop and hard. She thought it was pointless to answer people’s questions or their advice. Time flies or slows down, even when we least want or expect it to.
She took the phone in her hand. One of her fingers held the base of the phone to prevent slipping. Her shaking seemed to slow down a bit. She felt every heartbeat hit hard. Breathing twice as fast as usual.
“Hello?” she said. She held her voice as calm as possible but was unsure if her voice sounded calm.
“Honey,” Mom said with shaking in her intonation, “I talked to your father. We are going to an underground shelter that a friend has for natural disasters like tornadoes.”
Annie rolled her eyes. As she fidgeted with her fingers, she barely understood the voice on the other side of the phone. She questioned the possibility of explaining to her mom that nothing would fix the apocalypse. She lacked any ideas to enjoy the last days of planet Earth. She stared at a plastic toy gun in the corner of the room. She imagined herself grabbing a real gun and ending her life right there in the spot. She felt a tightening in her stomach while thinking about leaving the world like a coward.
“You want to spend your last days with the people who love you, right?” her mom asked on the other side of the phone. There was a hitting motion on the other side of the phone. It was some kind of screaming on the other side of the phone. Was her brother having a tantrum? Annie knew that her brother knew the harsh truth from either her mom or social media.
“I will plan to pack some board games and food so we can get to the shelter as fast as possible,” she said before finishing the phone call.
When she sat on the sofa before packing, she felt an enormous shaking on the ground. Within a couple seconds, the floor cracked open like a fragile rock splitting in two.
The ending was here. She almost regretted not spending time with her parents. She held a corner of the hollow floor. She held the pointy wood with all her strength, even when she realized there was blood dripping from her hands. She reflected on how she had been treating her loved ones. She blamed herself until she realized that everyone thinks that they have endless time to connect with the people around them. Time is precious and limited. As she felt her fingers losing their grip, she understood how the warmth of family and intimate friends created a life full of ordinary and rich engagement, even if she didn’t realize it at the time.
Featured Artwork
Pine by Louis Yau (He/Him)
Forging a Different Path in Media
How Gregory Coyes, the Indigenous Digital Filmmaking Program Coordinator encourages students to make media on their own terms
Sara Brinkac (any)
Co-Editor-In-Chief
Lera Kim
Illustrator
(she/her)
Around sunrise, in a tranquil scene of flowing water, through soft morning haze, you may find Gregory Coyes. He would be the man of Metis/Cree descent who is sitting silently at the shore of the lake, with a camera set up beside him, watching, listening and being with nature while he lets the camera record. After a few minutes, you might expect him to stop recording, maybe move his camera around on the tripod or pick up to another location. Instead, he remains still. Like the camera, like the setting, simply observing nature unfold in real time. While some may find this inaction odd, to filmmakers in the Slow Media Community it is not only typical, but powerful.
“Slow Media is the practice of being present through your camera,” Coyes now sits in his Capilano University office, where he works as the Indigenous Digital Filmmaking (IDF) Program Coordinator; In the corner of the room a fan hums, drying out a book of his that got wet the day prior, Coyes repeats, “it’s not a skill, it’s a practice.”
To a Slow Media practitioner this means attempting to create “still frame long form video” that captures the essence of an environment in “real time.” This real time Coyes refers to is the pace of nature, especially temporal references that surpass our lifespans. Coyes notes his, “long standing fascination with glaciology … dynamic elemental processes that have shaped and continue to shape the Earth,” as a personal temporal reference, and one he attempts to relate to in Slow Media. This sense of “real time” allows the audience to connect to our natural world in ways not typically found in advertisements, sitcoms, viral videos or any other colonized media which are more concerned with compressing time to capitalize on attention and turn profit.
When considering Slow Media and its goal of documenting the beauty of nature, it is clear there is no clear-cut skill to develop, rather, a practice of relation and patience. When asked when exactly the idea for Slow Media arose, Coyes didn’t answer with an exact instance but instead conjured a history.
“It goes through documentary ... which is a really powerful basis for [Indigenous peoples].” Names like Zacharius Kunuk, Alanis Obomsawin, Willie Dunn and Gil Cardinal were brought up with great respect. Especially Kunuk, a filmmaker from Igloolik, Nunavut whose widely acclaimed and inspirational film Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner retells an Inuit legend and skillfully weaves in the central character to many Indigenous stories–nature. By using uninterrupted shots of characters moving through landscapes, with the sun and specific seasons as the reference for time, Kunuk allowed audiences to experience what Coyes refers to as “real
30 time.” This sense of time is in direct contrast to the quick cuts from locations, days and scenes one would find in the compressed time of Hollywood content concerned with maximising information. So it was, this simple, yet radical decision to record “real time” set Coyes on the path of Slow Media.
Coyes also noted the inception of high definition (HD) cameras as another major influence on the creation of Slow Media. In May 2000, at Hollyhock Retreat Centre on Cortes Island, B.C., Coyes had his, “first experience of high definition imagery,” where he witnessed a video of, “the surrounding forest that was extraordinary and remarkably engaging.” Aware he was having, “an emotional reaction to the images of nature on the screen,” he knew he came across a powerful new medium to both relate to our natural world and continue to create “decolonized media.”
With many communities and influences, Slow Media materialized. In 2010, Coyes picked up the camera and continued developing the practice, he began to define Slow Media, create parameters, navigate issues and discover audiences, all the while connecting deeply with the natural world. As the practice developed the creation of a Slow Media community did too, and in 2019 Coyes wrote his Masters Thesis on the Slow Media Community, where he defined the interests of the community, outlined the influences of previous Indigenous filmmaking communities and explored the future applications of the Slow Media Community. Below is an excerpt which distinctly outlines the community’s and Coyes’ intentions in the realm of filmmaking, in it he writes:
“At its essence, Slow Media Community invites both producers and viewers to be more conscious of the process of making and viewing media. It asks us to slow down and be present to the process of gathering and then sharing a sustainable and dynamic resource, the power and beauty of the Earth, and the elements at work on the Earth. This depiction of “real time” in nature is offered as an alternative to the compressed timelines and accelerated concept delivery of the majority of mainstream media … This is decolonized media. Slow Media is an Indigenous expression of cinematic time and place.” — “Slow Media Community: Decolonized Media, The Camera as Witness” Gregory Coyes, 2019, UBC MFA Thesis
And here lies the power of the Slow Media Community; the courage to create, explore and build discourse outside of mainstream media. For Coyes, this is decolonization in media, and it doesn’t just exist within the Slow Media Community, but carries into the classrooms of the IDF program, into the consciousness of Motion Picture Arts (MOPA) students and is beginning to enter productions outside of school.
Students in the IDF program are taking on Slow Media projects as the foundation of their learning. They learn to understand how to create a visually compelling frame and build this skill with patience. They are also developing the clarity to relate to their environment when creating, rather than the typical, fevered pace of film productions, which is already a significant stance of change. Slow Media and Indigenous methods of film production are also entering MOPA classrooms as Coyes offers third-year students a lecture on Slow Media in Canadian Cinema, helps teach and grades fourth-year courses and continues to work with faculty in order to develop and introduce new practices.
A typical film set is a scene of barely contained chaos. Many move in a frenzy, a constant pressure hangs over every member which results in fast choices, little consideration of sustainability and damage to follow. It isn’t a wonder why the final product of the media is often dated with insensitivity and destruction when there is such little peace of mind to consider one’s actions in the storm of creation. Now, with Coyes backed by a strong history, making patient and consistent efforts, one might walk upon a different scene on an IDF or MOPA film set.
It is the morning of filming, everyone gathers around, exhausted from long hours, many projects and a tight timeline. Rather than the Assistant Director going through the rehearsed lines of safety guidelines, schedule and rushing to start the day, everyone circles, feels where they are standing and one asks: “How were your last nine hours since we saw you? How can we help you today to make this production successful?” Everyone takes a breath. And perhaps, for a moment, feel inexplicably connected to the natural world.
Want to give Slow Cinema a try? Grab a camera, your phone will do, compose a nicely framed shot that is a minimum 12 minutes long, perhaps consider one or two additional angles which can be minimum 1min20sec and share it with your community! Look to the SLOW MEDIA COMMUNITY Vimeo for more inspiration and be sure to check out The Courier’s January zine for more tips and tricks <3
“And here lies the power of the Slow Media Community; the courage to create, explore and build discourse outside of mainstream media.”
A Guide to the Murals on Campus
The meaning behind the artwork that we pass by every day
Sean Finan (any)
Crew Writer
Cassie VP (she/her)
Illustrator
In 2018, Capilano University set out to “beautify” the campus by enlisting four students from the Illustration and Design (IDEA) program to create memorable artwork for the school’s 50th anniversary. With the help of artists from the Vancouver Mural Festival, small teams were designated to colour the campus in a new way: drab concrete walls were transformed into expressions of the creative pulse that runs through the CapU community. These are the students who blessed the walls of our campus with their artwork.
Breeze, Willow Building - Taka Sudo
Taka Sudo’s mural Breeze is known well to the Acting for Stage and Screen students (ASAS) who inhabit the WIllow Building. Born and raised in Tokyo, and now residing in Vancouver, Sudo’s work is a mashup of both of those, “totally different environments.” His work is colourful and magical, and unsurprisingly has been most inspired by, “meeting people with amazing creativity from all over the world.”
The piece features, “[s]cattered abstract elements composed of neon color, neutral color, newsprint and photo collage assembled into organic shapes.” Sudo sought to bring to life to the campus through his art, the, “true energy among real and unreal. Those scattered various elements in abstraction are the representation of our environment, existence.”
According to the CapU website, Sudo noted there was a comfortable breeze blowing through the area he was working, “as well as a steady stream of people walking by, which led him to title his work, Breeze.”
“It is [my] hope that the bright animal characters depicted in [the] mural represent the diverse passion of [CapU] students, and that it motivates them as they pass by,” said Sudo in an interview with the university.
Connecting the Dots, Arbutus Building - Emily Hyunh, Courtney Lamb, Ata Ojani, Brynn Staples
The artists of this piece met serendipitously in the IDEA program, and they wanted to honor their friendship as well as the 50th anniversary of the school.
“The large-format “connect-the-dots” pattern incorporates each artist’s concepts of the number 50, as inspired by the past five decades.”
The artists worked together to create four hidden 50s within the mural. Something that most people overlook but may reward someone that stops and observes for long enough. If you’re walking by this mural, picture yourself and other students as a dot, and think about how you may connect.
Untitled, Cedar Building - Carrielynn Victor and Debra Sparrow
Untitled is a mural that merges the mediums of painting and weaving. Victor, the painter, and Sparrow, the weaver, collaborated to resurrect the ancient tradition of Coast Salish blanket weaving, honouring the ancestral owners of the land on which CapU resides. Featured in the piece is a Coast Salish figure wrapped in a blanket, animating the past and breathing life into the history of the land.
A CapU representative described the design as highlighting, “the role of ancestors in shaping a culture that is growing and looking to the future. In the mural’s lower left corner is a black and white representation of a turning page, increasing the sense of heritage and learning. It’s a subtle reminder of the Coast Salish refrain to always carry with you who you are and remember where you have come from.”
The colours of autumn featured in this mural are noticeable to the passer-by, and represent the appreciation of change while remembering where you came from. Whatever season it might be when you pass by this art piece, the winds of change will be blowing you in a new direction.
Untitled, Birch Building - Andrew Tavukciyan
All of these murals add a much-needed splash of colour to the campus’ concrete complexion, and Tavukciyan’s piece is no different. This mural welcomes people into the Birch Building without words. It is placed at the end of the forest pathway from the Library Building. Around it you may feel a serene bliss due to nature, the artwork itself, or a combination of the two.
“There is an explosion of action suggested with the lines, pipes and ribbons of his work – it is spontaneous, but not random.”
Tavukciyan does not want his pieces to be explained, but rather he hopes that people create their own meaning.
“Like the creative abandon of jazz musicians on stage, Tavukciyan is playing within the rules, creating something with its own time and space.”
You may be on your way to lunch, hungry and restless, and the sounds of the forest combined with the wonder of the painting might give you a moment of pause.
Spectrum Through the Prism, Birch BuildingCristian Fowlie
The concept for this piece was to portray a diverse array of people through the plane of simple geometric shapes and colours. Fowlie says, “It used simplicity and urgency to link art history—Mondrian, Modernism and Peter Saville—with colour theory, geometry, anatomy, portraiture and graphic design.”
The concept began in Fowlie’s sketchbook in 2013, “The concept of a prism refracting and separating pure light into a spectrum of colours is a metaphor for how the university provides an array of experiences and perspectives that enable participants to create, collaborate and grow in confidence.”
Do you recognize anyone in this piece? Some say they notice loved ones, celebrities or professors.
Here & Now, Cedar Building - Erica Philips
Few murals have the ability to stop people in their tracks, but the Here and Now mural is a piece that stops passengers in their tracks to stare at the impactful words. Perhaps they wonder why such a piece would be in the middle of campus. A reminder to be present is so important when school can feel overwhelming and allconsuming.
“The mural emphasizes the unique beauty of the surrounding campus, with the background of the mural an abstract landscape inspired by natural elements found in the Sea-to-Sky corridor,” says Phillips. The continuous emphasis on the natural beauty is something that is found in all of the pieces. The background of the piece represents, “the overlapping layers are representative of nature: dappled light on trees and reflections in water,” according to CapU.
How long have you stopped to look at this mural? Its point may seem redundant but the longer you stare at it the more it makes sense.
Flutter, Nat and Flora Bosa Centre for Film & Animation - Drew Young
This mural decorates the Bosa building with flora, ironically because the building is partially named after Flora Bosa. The piece is humongous. It plays with the organic shapes of flowers and the discordant jagged scribbles covering them. These may evoke feelings of freedom to the artists who inhabit this building.
“With more than 30 murals to his credit, not to mention the more than 100 he has directed in the Lower Mainland, Young is something of an art mural aficionado.”
Murals don’t have to be philosophically fanciful. For Young, murals are simply a way for him to create a “big ol’ painting.” Students walking into this building preparing to create images that shape the world will surely be inspired by these flowers. The metaphor of a flower is classic and beautiful; we are all blooming and wilting at various times and this piece can reflect that part of ourselves.
School of the Golden Era, Cedar BuildingNelson Garcia & Xochitl Leal
This mural may be the most pleasantly eccentric of all the murals on this list. A group of anthropomorphic animals dressed in robes, standing in what seems to be a sort of Mount Olympus–in space. Garcia and Leal are not quick to share the meaning of their work.
“I have people telling me that they look forward to seeing our murals during their commute, or that they have spent hours trying to figure out their meaning,” Leal said.
According to the Vancouver Mural Festival, “artist duo Nelson
Garcia and Xochitl Leal sought to beautify the campus space, utilizing the scale and visibility of the wall to bring to life an iconoclastic rendering of a renaissance painting of famous philosophers Plato and Socrates.”
The duo injected, “surrealism into the scene by transforming the main characters into various animals.”
Some students look at this and dismiss it for being silly, but most students will look at this piece and see a meeting of the minds, and look to their right and see a courtyard of students doing the same thing–sharing ideas and hanging out, just as Plato and Socrates did.
Happy Accidents, Willow BuildingTierney Milne
“I like to use murals as a way to interrupt people’s days with positivity and beauty, to create something that speaks to their inner child and encourages them to feel light-hearted,” said Milne.
The design of this mural is much like the actors that reside in the building it adorns. Bright, colourful and whimsical.
“Tierney Milne’s artwork is colourful and bold — a positive interruption in students’ rainy day commuting and a vivid kaleidoscope amid the muted tones of the natural beauty of the Capilano U campus.”
This piece’s meaning can become something entirely new depending on the angle you view it, the weather, the people you’re with, or any other factor you can imagine that changes your perception of the world around you.
When you take notice, CapU has some great artwork decorating its brutal concrete walls. It’s great to pause for a second to appreciate these works, and think about what kind of beautiful creation you could make that impacts people on a daily basis. Art can be whatever you want it to be, so take your time and think about what a piece means to you, because that is all that matters.
35
Vancouver-based visual artist and muralist Sandeep Johal talks creative journey, painting and cultural hybridity
CapU’s First Indigenous Vendor Market
Crew Writer
Kate Henderson (she/they)
Illustrator
Lauren Howard (she/her)
On November 26, 2024, Stephanie Merinuk, Manager of Indigenous Education and Affairs at Capilano University, hosted the school’s first Indigenous Vendor Market in the Kéxwusm-áyakn Student Centre, also called the K-Centre. Invited to the market through an open call on social media, local Indigenous creators gathered with students to share their art; a space to connect and find relationships through creation. CapU has hosted a series of holiday craft fairs in this space, with a portion of these artists’ proceeds donated to United Way , an organization dedicated to developing, “community and strengthening vital connections,” as stated on their website. When Merinuk began her work at CapU five months ago, she felt a disconnect in how this event gave back to the community of the Kéxwusm-áyakn Student Centre. With that, Merinuk sang her ‘little act of reconciliation.’
Born in Manitoba, Merinuk is a member of the Berens River First Nations community and started her career with the Royal Bank of Canada. She was soon drawn to university-based work as they are some of the first institutions rooted in colonialism, power and privilege. With this in consideration, Merinuk shared that, “just because it’s rooted doesn’t mean you can’t change the soil.” She did just that, beginning her work at Simon Fraser University in the Indigenous Business Leadership Executive: Masters in Business Administration (MBA) Program, where Merinuk worked to uplift North America’s first Indigenous-led MBA program. This platform is what Merinuk shares as an act of economic reconciliation. This led to her position in Indigenous Education and Affairs, which began five months ago, and where Merinuk replants and waters the flowers of CapU’s path of reconciliation through these little, but communally strong, acts of reconciliation.
CapU’s first Indigenous Vendor Market commenced with the Kéxwusm-áyakn Student Centre decked with various creations.
The Capilano Courier spoke to artist Kathleen ‘Kats’ Klein, a long-time Métis creative, student and former CapU staff. Klein expressed the warmth of being invited back to share her joy of painting and beadwork. “My partner gives me the space to use our apartment’s living and dining space as an art studio, which is so kind to my process,” Klein vocalizes. “My art is all around me, and any free moment I have, I’m looking at it, I’m touching it, thinking about it.” Klein explains that she didn’t always have this outlet in her life, but now this process brings her great meditation. She hopes to share this meditative state with the market-goers, emphasizing the practice of, “reciprocation [...] what we get from the earth and from each other.” Who is really governing
Courier members spoke further with multi-media Cheslatta Carrier Métis artist Jessey Tustin, a regular vendor at various North Vancouver markets, who said, “I saw a call on social media, as someone who tries to vend local markets regularly, I was drawn even further knowing it was Indigenous-based.” Tustin elaborated on the peace they find in creating, while their “process is pretty chaotic, [they] also work a full-time job, whatever time [they] can find to create, even if it’s just two hours in the evening, that’s time to create.” Tustin showed their gallery of creations, ranging from seal fur earrings to colourful prints, as well as their new colouring book pages. “I love colour. We need more colour in the world,” Tustin implored, continuing to say, “Even if it’s just little bugs or watermelon, I want people to be like, ‘Aw, that’s really cool!’ I want to bring smiles to people’s faces.”
- Kats Klein *** ***
“My art is all around me, and any free moment I have, I’m looking at it, I’m touching it, thinking about it”
Evie Dumont is an artist celebrating the medium of beadwork, specifically in the form of cartoon characters. “It’s really fun to find different variations, the pixel-like design of the pieces,” Dumont explains. “Even though it is tedious to put together, it’s also very zen.” Dumont describes her process with a wonderfully flexible workflow, “Getting obsessed, and as soon as I feel bored with the design I just move onto the next exciting idea!” Dumont hopes customers can find this same excitement when buying her pieces as well. “It’s about finding that piece you love,” she says, “The piece that speaks to you.”
While Merinuk just began her position at CapU during the summer of 2024, she has already planted many seeds of reconciliation, nourishing and supporting the creations of the vendors of the 2024 market. In changing the soil of deeply rooted colonial practice, Merinuk has centered a path in the school by giving back to the space of the K-Centre and local creators and creating a garden of reconciliation for our community. This garden surrounded students in the Indigenous market, and it will continue to grow with ] Merinuk’s little acts of reconciliation.
“We’re still here. Let’s talk Indigenous creation , let’s talk Indigenous joy .” - Stephanie Merinuk
38
Yes, And… CapU Theatre Opens Improv Classes
Discover the magic of the stage as CapU’s acting students share their passion for theatre—and their excitement about everyone trying improv
Crew Writer
Lily Rosen (she/her)
Illustrator
Andrei Gueco (he/him)
“Theatre helps open up confidence, specifically improv. You learn to expect failure, and that failure is a beautiful thing.”
The Capilano University Theatre Department is pulling back the curtain, and this time, it’s not just for the drama kids. Improv classes—once a hidden gem of the acting programs—are now open to all students. So, what’s it like when the spotlight shines a little brighter across campus? Student performers reveal what goes on in the wings and how they feel about sharing the stage, metaphorically speaking, with the rest of us.
Sienna Da Silva-Rolph, an Acting for Stage and Screen (ASAS) student, shares a glimpse of the production process. “At the end of each year, there’s a mass audition. You perform monologues or songs in front of the directors of all the productions, normally three plays and a musical. You write down your top choices and then—hopefully—get cast into those roles.”
If that sounds hectic, it’s nothing compared to the rehearsals. Hanna Mack, a Musical Theatre (MUTH) student, says, “The majority of our rehearsal process is blocking, going back to the beginning and blocking again. Then it’s immediately tech, dress rehearsal and shows back to back to back. It’s an interesting process, getting thrown into a tech rehearsal after just finishing months of blocking.”
From script-diving table reads to late cue-to-cue nights, the time crunches quickly. Another ASAS student, Manuela Palmieri, adds, “We have eight classes a semester, and then at the end of the day, you go into rehearsals. I mean, I had four days of six-hour rehearsals per week working on Romeo and Juliet .”
Despite the chaos, Da Silva-Rolph sees the program as a masterclass in adaptability. “It’s expected that this industry we’re going into will be a lot. It’s brutal. And as actors—as a team—we have to power through together as best as we can,” she insists. Palmieri adds, “Working with people just as passionate about theatre brings us together.” The camaraderie found in their tightknit cohorts makes each long day manageable.
Even better, the devoted team effort guarantees consistent encouragement and feedback. Mack explains, “In workshops this
year, we got to write each other feedback to add to the professor’s. So, you have to assess while enjoying watching somebody sing, like, ‘Oh, they need to work on this range of notes.’ Or, ‘They need to feel more present in their body.’” A range of eyes and ears inspires more nuanced, diverse critique.
Feeling that sense of community is comforting; they’re all in it, arm in arm. “We all band together,” says Da Silva-Rolph, thinking fondly of her class and castmates. “I think because we’re all actors, we’re naturally extroverted. So if someone needs help, someone will speak up, jump in and help them, no questions asked.”
All three performers celebrated the department’s decision to unlock improv classes for everyone. The move is excellent in Mack’s eyes, who admits improv terrified her as a first-year. She comments, “As a very detail-oriented, perfectionist type of person, improvising is really hard. But that class definitely broke me out of my shell.” She learned to love the break that improv provided from standard semester stressors like homework and exams. “You just need to receive what somebody else is giving and then react. It’s a way to get out of your head.”
Da Silva-Rolph, a drama class devotee, agrees wholeheartedly. “I honestly think high school should have mandatory theater classes, even up to university. Theatre helps open up confidence, specifically improv. You learn to expect failure, and that failure is a beautiful thing.”
To those curious potential thespians, Palmieri advises, “Have fun, enjoy it, take risks and don’t be afraid to fail.” In other words, do it, even if it’s totally terrifying. Who knows? Maybe your next epiphany will start with a one-liner in improv.
Theatre life may not be for the faint of heart, but the performers’ enthusiasm for their craft is infectious. With improv classes now on the table for all students, CapU’s Theatre Department is opening the door to step into the unknown, embrace the awkwardness and discover that sometimes, the best performances come from making it up as you go.
In the Mix
How Jade Guerrero connects music and community in Vancouver
Luciana Mastrangelo (she/her)
Contributor
Rachel Lu (she/her)
Illustrator
“If you can count to 32, you can DJ.”
In a city known for its hustle and high cost of living, finding a way to mix passion with work can seem like an impossible feat. For Jade Guerrero, maintaining this balance is his life. Guerrero is a DJ, a prominent figure at Bside Radio, operates an apparel brand and is a part of his family’s graphics business. Across this broad scope of work, Guerrero juggles multiple roles, all the while striving to foster genuine connections in Vancouver’s creative scene.
Guerrero’s journey began in Coquitlam, where he grew up surrounded by a vibrant community of music lovers. He remembers attending parties where DJs controlled the energy of the room, sparking his fascination. “At the time, I was an ignorant 15-yearold who, although wasn’t DJing yet, was interested in what was happening in the booth.” He goes on, “Yes, we were partying and having fun, but also, I could see who was controlling it. That was always the DJ. From way, way back then, I knew that’s what I wanted to do.”
BSide Radio is where Guerrero hosts a monthly show, “Mizma,” which means “same” in Spanish. A rare gem in Vancouver’s music scene, BSide offers a 24/7 live-streaming platform featuring diverse acts. “There aren’t any spots that do what we do,” says
“Over the years, I’ve come to accept that my everyday is a little bit different—not bad—just different from others.”
Guerrero. “It’s not about being an artist; it’s about connecting with other people.” He hosts “Mizma” on the first Sunday of every month, highlighting unique aesthetics and inviting friends and creatives to mix tunes.
Guerrero is not only an artist with music but also apparel, as seen in his brand Entheos Essence. The business owner often showcases his merch on the BSide live radio show, with his event, Intentions. Beyond music and fashion, Guerrero plays a key role in his family’s creative printing business, Graphics DPI, which specializes in signage installations, custom stickers, vehicle wraps and more. Notable projects include branding and signage for favourites like Budgies Burritos, Jollibee and the Canucks.
With so many creative roles, it’s a wonder how Guerrero manages to stay organized. “Everyone has their struggles and everyone has health issues that can get in the way,” he shares. “If I put myself together, I might be able to be a little more productive, but at the same time, I have epilepsy. Over the years, I’ve come to accept that my everyday is a little bit different—not bad—just different from others. That being said, I’m always trying to stay productive.” Reflecting this dedication, Guerrero rents the creative space La Selva Studio weekly, highlighting his commitment to his work despite his challenges.
Acknowledging the struggles that come with pursuing DJing as a career in Vancouver, he advises aspiring DJs, “If you want to get into it, get into it.” For Guerrero, DJing is about passion and connection rather than technical perfection or expensive equipment. “If you can count to 32, you can DJ. It’s about putting together mixes and getting creative with transitions,” he explains. At its core, he believes DJing is not about being an artist, but fostering a sense of unity. “The point of it is to have everyone connected and moving— however you can achieve that—is music.”
Despite the barriers, Guerrero insists the DJ process is less intimidating than it seems. “If you’re with the right people and it sounds right, you can get it bumpin’,” he says, encouraging others to try it out. His advice to those hoping to break into the scene? Build your catalogue, stay organized and surround yourself with
supportive people. Anyone can download apps on their phone and get to work. “If you transition from one song to another and it was intentional, you are a DJ,” he says. Reflecting on his own journey, he adds, “I use a tiny plastic piece of shit, but it works.” Guerrero’s message is clear: anyone can do it. You don’t need much.
When asked about the possibility of a composed album, Guerrero said it’s been a lengthy ongoing process in the making for several years now. While he admires those who can craft music in one sitting, his process is more intuitive, favouring live elements and in-the-moment spurs of harmony that feel right. “This year’s gonna be the year,” Guerrero said with a laugh.
For those just starting out, like aspiring DJ Cat Frith, Guerrero’s journey offers a blueprint for mixing passion with purpose. Though studying business, Frith started her DJ journey eight months ago and shares a love for curating music that uplifts and surprises people. “I love picking music for the right people that puts them in a good mood,” she says, “My icon is Paris Hilton.” Unlike Guerrero, Frith is a beginner focusing on small gigs and growing her network. However, both share the common goal of connecting people with their mixes.
Guerrero holds up a water bottle covered in stickers made from his business. “It’s a story,” he says. “This is Entheosence, the brand. This is Graphic DPI, the shop. This is Cowboy, the cat, a sticker we made,” he explains, referring to his best friend Michaela’s cat, Cowboy. “This is “Mizma,” where I performed. It’s all connected.” He continues, “A big part of what Guerrero is, what “Mizma” is, is connection.” This sense of connection flows through all of his work, whether curating music, designing apparel or working in his family’s business. It’s a reflection of his philosophy: passion for work.
Guerrero can be found on Instagram @jade.wav and @mizmamusic for his work at BSide Radio. Visit entheosessence.com for cool clothes and graphicsdpi.com for graphic designs.
Frith can be found on Instagram @caterinafrith.
The Importance of Laughter
Learning how to live through laughter and where it’s gotten me
Letters Editor
Jordan Tomlinson (he/him)
Illustrator
Scarlett Side (she/her)
“Honey, if people don’t laugh, they’ll cry. Who wants to do that?”
Laughter, comedy; an ever-changing art form. While many write it off as simple or frivolous, its complexity and importance extend further than most may think. For as long as we’ve been alive, laughter has always been the best medicine. Naturally, laughter can improve our mental state, boosting our mood and whatnot, it can improve our physical health as well. It stimulates the heart, lungs, muscles, etc, and soothes you. Also, it can boost your immune system! Huh. What a wonder the body is.
Of course, I wouldn’t be writing this if I didn’t have a keen interest in the subject. I’ve been a huge fan of comedic television and sketch comedy for as long as I can remember. I grew up without cable. We only had my mom’s DVD box sets to pass the time. So my childhood television memories are all of ALF, The Simpsons and Married… With Children. My dad made the strong choice of raising me on a musical combination of metal, nerdcore rap (can’t all be winners) and comedy music like Weird Al Yankovic and The Lonely Island. These tickling forms of media defined me as I grew up, having odd references and quotes that even I didn’t understand.
I was raised around my mom and her family, and their dark comedic approach to life helped frame how I saw the world. They’d jab at each other, laugh at the news and walk around with this intense self-awareness that led to the best jokes. I
remember asking my mother about it one day, curious as to why she was laughing about something tragic that had only happened a week prior.
“Honey, if people don’t laugh, they’ll cry. Who wants to do that?”
She followed that up with the usual motherly jibber jabber (always let your feelings out, it’s okay to cry, immaterial, burn rubber, etc.), but she had a point. I never realized how much that moment stuck with me until very recently.
Entering university was a significant social switch, coming from a graduating class of 42-ish integrated arts students that I’d known my whole pre-teen and teen years; diving headfirst into a sea of people I knew nothing about. I learned quickly that despite what I’d previously believed, I had terrible social skills, I was very bad at reading people and did not know anything about who I was to others. Within that thick fog of social anxiety shrouding me throughout that first-year, the only light that I saw flashed whenever I made someone laugh. Even a tiny giggle became the highlight of my day. Those small moments were really my saving grace, and I hope they meant something to my classmates. Even if I didn’t fix their day completely or they never thought about it again, I could walk away knowing that I’d brought someone a smidge of joy and relief.
“Out with the Old, In with the New”: How an Ugly T-Shirt
Redefined My Sense of Value
How my attachment to an old T-shirt made me rethink the value of what we possess
Sports Editor
Lea Krusemeyer (she/her)
Illustrator
Kyla Seguiban (she/her)
“Out with the old, in with the new,” is the epitome of consumerism; a mentality that encourages us to buy the latest shoes, shirts or phones, not because we need them but because we can. I am no stranger to this way of thinking. Countless trends have come and gone in my life, and I have been more than willing to keep up. So, imagine my surprise when I found an item I simply could not let go of.
It was not some new phone or designer purse. It was an ugly old T-shirt with a tacky ‘80s design. Picture teddy bears dressed as sailors positioned proudly on tiny sailing ships. It was objectively hideous. Yet somehow, this piece of fabric held a power over me that made my usual hunger for the pretty and trendy mindset crumble.
I found the shirt when I was about 14, during a summer at our family house in Italy. This house was more than just four walls, it was a museum of memories for me. Generations of women in my family had owned it, each leaving their mark, and every creak of the beams felt like a whisper from the past. Somewhere in that house, tucked away in a forgotten drawer in my grandparents’ bedroom, the T-shirt waited. It was not new or trendy. It looked like it had lived a hundred lives, worn by just as many people.
At first, I picked it up out of necessity. I had run out of shirts and needed something to sleep in. But something about that T-shirt spoke to me. It was unassuming but comforting, and after that first night, I never wanted to take it off.
From that moment onward, the shirt became my nighttime uniform. There is something special about wearing an old shirt to bed. It is soft in ways new clothes can never replicate, and it seems to wrap you in a maternal safety. I had done this before with other shirts, like my stepdad’s oversized tees, but none ever made me feel as grounded as my sailing teddies did.
I would consider myself a hugely sentimental person and as such I look through my phone galleries often, especially Snapchat because in there my pics go back all the way to 2016. While scrolling, I find myself wearing the sailing teddies in Kyoto, Japan during the summer of 2017 and it reminds me of the adventures I had exploring this new country. A little further down I found a video of my friend Caro wearing the shirt while singing Katy Perry in my living room, and immediately I’m catapulted into that wonderful memory again. The teddys on board the sailing boats have been with me on multiple continents, through turbulent
times of teenage angst, the horrors of young adulthood and the excitement of my early twenties.
They saw me at my best and worst. With time, the fabric grew thinner, seams stretching as if they were ageing alongside me.
Eventually, the inevitable happened. A small hole appeared near the hem. Over time, the tears grew larger, spreading along the seams. One day, I picked it up to put it on and it just fell apart. My roommate took one look and called it a rag, and I must admit, he had a point.
From a logical standpoint, it was time for me to let go. It was old and barely functional. Tossing it out should have been easy, but I could not bring myself to do it. That shirt was not just fabric; it was a link to my history, that house in Italy and a version of my family I was not ready to lose.
Instead of throwing it away, I repurposed it. The answer came from another lifelong companion: Bella, the stuffed animal I have had since I was three years old. Bella’s fur has grown a little less plush, her ears droop now and her eyes have dulled, but she has never lost her sparkle. Bella has always been a constant in my life, and now, she has a little shirt to call her own, stitched from my beloved T-shirt.
Did keeping that shirt and turning it into something new really help me? Or was it just a placebo from believing in its sentimental power? To me, the answer is irrelevant. Sentimentality is not about logic or practicality, but connection.
Now, when I look at Bella wearing her little sailor-teddy shirt, it hits me how some things go way beyond their material worth. That T-shirt was never about the fabric or the weird design, but the memories stitched into every thread. Summers in Italy, karaoke nights with Caro, late-night chats in bed. It’s a reminder that some objects aren’t just things; they’re anchors. They hold us steady in the chaos of life, keeping us connected to who we’ve been and what we’ve lived through. And honestly? That’s worth holding on to.
In a world that often pushes us to move on and let go, there is something powerful in holding on. Some objects deserve to stay, not because they are useful or expensive but because they remind us of the people and places that shaped us. That shirt may no longer be whole, but its spirit is stitched into my life, proving that old and new can coexist beautifully.
Life Through Art & Ephemera
Ephemera are items that were not originally intended to be preserved or kept, but have been collected or kept anyway.
Jasmin Linton (she/her)
Contributor
Jordan Richert (he/him)
Crew Illustrator
I come from a very artistic family. From my grandma’s pottery workshop, to the walls of my home covered in family-made paintings, to painting dates on my sister’s front porch, I have always been surrounded by art and creativity. I think this is why my experiences throughout my life are so closely linked to my creative endeavors.
Along the way, the media and process of my art shifted. There was always something lacking in just painting on a canvas. Even the limitlessness of digital art didn’t seem to fulfill what I wanted out of my art; to focus on the process rather than the finished product, and to always have a challenge. I’m very fond of colours and textures. The first journal spread I completed was covered in different kinds of coloured paper, dots of red paint and a bunch of purple yarn. It looked more like craft cupboard vomit than anything, but the creation of it was where I felt fulfilled rather than the final product. It made me want to keep making more.
It was the beginning of ninth grade in my high school when I found the memory-keeping, challenge-creating, ultracreative art form of journaling. Using anything I could stick
in a notebook to collage, I started creating art spreads with literal trash; ephemera. It started with stealing skiing magazines from the coffee table (sorry Dad), and ended with a meticulously organized craft cupboard of creations waiting to be made. With my supplies grew my techniques. In my second journal, the first five pages are just covered in loops and swishes as I practiced learning calligraphy and other lettering styles. This skill developed and grew, so now I use my lettering for titles and headings throughout my current journals. Just please don’t make me look back at that second edition…the calligraphy was horrendous!
The trash and scraps I end up using in my journals come from my life. Movie tickets, candy wrappers and product packaging. I even save my grocery lists and every recipe I bring home. Those are the best for backgrounds. My friends and family, knowing that I save everything under the Earth for my journal, keep bits and pieces for me too. If we go to a movie, a play or even just out for coffee, my sister always asks me, “Do you want this for your journal?” It’s become so frequent that the question has just gone down to “Journal?” The types of materials I use hold memories of my life, so the ways I am creative are wound up tightly with my journey and experiences. I can look at a page from a journal I completed years ago and remember an amazing concert through the crinkled paper wristband I plastered in it, regardless of if I’ve written anything or not. Journaling for me is simultaneously an artform and memory preservation.
I’m currently working on my 21st journal. Crazy, I know. When I first started, I didn’t have as many materials and had no idea what I was doing. So, my style has changed drastically over the years. The pages will mirror what I’m feeling and reflecting on when I create them. As I get new materials, I also associate them with different volumes of journals, and therefore, different aspects of my life. Certain stickers or paint will remind me of my birthday in the summer when I received them as a gift; or more writing will signify I’ve found a new favourite pen I couldn’t stop using.
Journaling is not only a creative outlet (and now an all consuming hobby…in a good way), but also like regular journaling, is extremely beneficial to my mental wellbeing. My initial intentions when getting into creative journaling were creatively motivated, but it’s also helped me process hard experiences and quietly reflect. Even now,
during my busy school year, I find the time—when I’m very overwhelmed—to cover a page in random stickers, break out my paints or even just use the page and a pen to do something with all that overwhelming-ness. There is no wrong way to create in a journal, either. Some of my pages are rants of messy writing, while others are collages of friends and family. The fluidity of journaling is both why I love it so much and why my journey is so intertwined with my art.
A Post-Christmas Interview With The Clauses
When the Christmas season wraps up, what does that mean for jolly Saint Nick and the amazing Mrs. Claus?
It’s that time of the year, or aghast, it t’was. Now the snow hath deliquesced and Christmas’ locks have been buzzed. I join you today, to sit down and chat with Big Red himself, jolly and fat. He sits across from me with his wife Mrs. Claus (I don’t know her first name, and I’m too nervous to ask).
Sean: *pauses* It’s a pleasure to speak with you Santa and Mrs. Claus. I’ve been a fan of yours since I watched The Polar Express when I was a boy.
Santa: Ho! Ho! Ho! Thank you sonny, we appreciate that. Although I don’t think they did me justice in that movie. I just can’t stand MOCAP, Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sean: *giggles* , it’s not for the faint of heart. So, some Christmas, huh?
Santa: Yes indeed! Ho! Ho! Ho! it was our greatest yet, we delivered 100 trillion gifts this year! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sean : Jesus Christ that’s unbelievable. How is that possible?
Santa: Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.
Sean: Right, I forgot this was a Christian holiday. My apologies. So, about those gifts?
Santa: Oh, we use Amazon as a distributor now! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sean: Wait, so you don’t deliver them yourselves?
Santa: Ho! Ho! Ho! Why of course not! Jeff flies into the North Pole on his army of drones and collects all of the gifts we make! Which is about 0.001 per cent of the gifts delivered!
Sean: So where are most of the gifts made?
Santa: China and Vietnam! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sean: So why make any gifts at the North Pole at all?
Santa: Well, this way we can get the photo opportunity for Jeff and the elves. Jeff really has a thing for elves Ho! Ho! Ho! Kinda like I have a thing for women that taste like cocoa…
Mrs. Claus: Oh Santa you big flirt… Come here big boy.
Santa: Ho! Ho! Ho! Let’s do this thing.
*Mrs. Claus and Santa begin to take off their clothing and have hot sex with each other, it is unclear if they have any genitals*
Sean: Um guys? I have a couple more questions… aha.
*Mrs. Claus and Santa both ignore me, Santa pulling out a vibrating silicone candy cane*
Santa: Oh, I’m going to give you my North Pole and milk all over your cookies, Ho! Ho! Ho!
*At this point it’s clear that they do, in fact, not have any genitals to speak of*
Santa: HO!!! HO!!! HO!!! HO!!! HO!! HOOOOO!!!!
*Jeff Bezos enters the room on a flock of Amazon drones*
Jeff: Heyyyyyy I’m here!!! Room for one more?
I watched it all unfold in horror, unable to move. And vowed to never celebrate Christmas ever again.
Livvy Hung (she/her)
What Would Happen If You Were To Release
100,000
Tiny Crabs Into The Bosa Building?
Capilano Courier gets its pinchers on this important hypothetical
Kate Henderson (she/they)
Andrei Gueco (he/him)
Crew Writer
Illustrator
It was a quaint day in the Nat and Flora Bosa Centre for Film and Animation. Sewing machines were clicking, cameras were rolling and an eight-legged army was approaching. The costuming students were the first to spot this increasing mass of crustaceans and rushed to tell the classes shooting in the studios. Unfortunately, the male film professors ignored them, busy preaching to students how qualified they are to teach because they once met Quentin Tarantino. Other film students were rendered oblivious in the foley room. They were hitting spare rib bones on a large plank of wood to make SpongeBob character Mr. Krabs’ signature strut for their indie drama short film about being a soldier in WW1.
The first 50,000 crabs used brute force to breach the costuming rooms, with the costumers fleeing alongside the film students (without the male film professors as they kept preaching about their buddy Quentin to an empty studio). At this point, the other 50,000 crabs made it up the steps of the Bosa Building, 25,000 cascading to the vending machine, and the other 25,000 towards the Cinema Cafe. This is where the crabs discovered something monumental to their overtaking; the choice to use fake crab in the cafe sushi. None other than Judy stood her post, ready to serve the most customers the cafe had probably seen in its lifetime. And so, the crabs praised thee for saving their brothers. This was the end of day one, but only the beginning of the forever crab invasion.
P. S. The animation students technically discovered the crab invasion on day two, as they left Bosa at 3 a.m. the next day. This led to 1,000 crabs entering the elevator and getting stuck inside without a key card.
5 years later…
Peace. Harmony. Joy. It was another quaint day in the Crab and Crab Crab Crab of Film and Animation, and the Crab Cafe has never been better. The crabs assembled a throne for Judy out of (now useless) C-100s and Red cameras, with the menu items now limited to ground sea shells. Capilano University Residence had never seen this level of nutrition before. The vending machines are useless, as all of the snacks had holes poked in them on day one. The first-floor bathrooms are most useful in their routine flooding, offering ample moisture that all 100,000 crabs needed to survive. However, due to bathing in human shit, 20,000 crabs fell to disease in the Bosa first-floor bathrooms. This is when crabs saw not only a significant decline in population but also in the economy, with dining dollars (now commonly known as doubloons) dropping below the value of yen.
In the basement, the glass of the costuming building was rebuilt, but only to the height of the crabs. Certain cameras were rebuilt, including the Arri Alexa Mini, now known as the Arri Alexa Mini Mini Mini. Last but not least, the crabs proved better communicators than the old male professors of Bosa, as both populations proved to be highly crabby. With 80,000 crabs and Judy at the helm, the Crab Crab Crab of Film and Animation is as prosperous and fair as any society could ever hope to be.
New year, same old crossword.
by Sofia Musa
13 What the the end of four pm
21 "You know crack babies, we born in that ____ -Lamar 23 Outermost earth
25 Did a really
27 Who hates crosswords???
28 Card styles?
29 Completely
30 Rapidly declining feature of
31 Suffix after humanit-
32 Affirms, in
33 Very European transport
34 With a strong taste) effect
37 Boringggggg
41 Toad's abode,
43 "Will do!"
44 Where to cycle of life
46 How to lose contest
47 Pants on
48 He's just you
49 University
ACROSS
1 Laundry pod brand
5 Went through paper, as in ink
9 What a phoenix rises from 14 Peak
Facility 16 Luxury Rolls
Window section
18 One for the pigs
19 Military rookie
20 Period in Japan from 1603-1868
21 And left no crumbs
22 Like Hepburn or Loren
24 A way to be in love
26 Prefix for three
27 You wouldn't know it, it's kinda lowkey, kinda underground, kinda
28 Cooking vessel for tomato sauce
33 Like an athlete's body
34 There's 6599 of these in Ireland
37 What Rome wasn't, on day two
38 Like a lighting, or computer system
39 Prefix for against, homonym of 40 accross
40 Prefix for before, homonym of 39 accross
41 Andean predator
42 Big part of a pencil pusher's job 44 Interstellar director 45 Hollywood icon West 46 Albertan national park
47 Matthew Mcconaughey's signature car
51 Corporate abbr.
52 One can be made for lightning
55 Like Atahualpa or Pachacuti
56 Subj. with sin cos and tan
58 Big Dick?
59 Pac-man creators
35 Roman emperor, the most bonkers one 36 Yellow brick ____
60 Where to wait in
Card styles?
61 Regarding to 62 Diss
Completely surround
63 Often blamed for the demise of 5 down's band
Rapidly declining feature of frigid areas
50 Movie featuring and McQueen
53 Death note?
54 Leaping move climbing,
57 Brazilian
Suffix after barb-, humanitor totalit-
Affirms, in a gesture
64 Patriarch of the Frank family DOWN
1 Precursor to a CD
Very European public transport
2 Kids love it
58 Former Chinese chairman
3 Give a name to 4 Common file type for computer programs
With a strong (smell or taste) effect
Boringggggg
5 Like Ringo
Toad’s abode, perhaps
6 Not your period underwear
“Will do!” 44 Where to watch the cycle of life
7 That one in spanish, (she/her)
8 Up for argument
How to lose a staring contest
9 Where Santa has his workshop
10 Fly above
Pants on fire 48 He’s just not that ____ you
11 Jekyll's insidious counterpart
49 University sports group
12 Acronym for preschool teachers
50 Movie featuring Mater and McQueen
53 Death note?
54 Leaping move in rock climbing, abbr.
57 Brazilian carnival city
58 Former Chinese chairman
Craving for more?
• How will the Trump Presidency Affect Canadians?
• Is CapU Squamish’s New Soccer Field Worth the Trip?
• Game On: CapU Sports Club Roundup
• To Someone I Used to Know
• New Year, Same Work Ethic
• The Analyzation of Jamie Kennedy by the Coward Adam Wallace
CAPILANO UNIVERSITY is located on the traditional unceded territories of the LíỈwat, xʷməθkʷəỷəm (Musqueam), shíshálh (Sechelt), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish) and SəỈílwətaʔ/ Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations.
We recognize our presence here as guests on this sacred land and deeply appreciate the privilege to work, study, and reside in this remarkable place. The Capilano Courier acknowledges that this gesture is just a starting point on the path to reconciliation, and we are committed to amplifying Indigenous voices and sharing their stories.
THE CAPILANO COURIER is an autonomous, democratically-run student newspaper that encourages literary and visual submissions. However, all submissions undergo editing for brevity, taste, and legality. We are committed to not publishing material that the collective deems as promoting sexism, racism, or homophobia. The views expressed by the contributing writers are not necessarily those of the Capilano Courier publishing society.
Additionally, we prioritize a human-centered approach to content creation and do not support the use of AI in our editorial processes. We believe in the value of human perspectives and storytelling in our publication.
CAPILANO COURIER
Who
is really governing me?