issue 10 - surrealism by FEMMELDEHYDE Magazine

1222 2014

ART, MUSIC, FASHION AND SURREALISM

FEMMELDEHYDE 1

CONTENTS

03 05 07 08 12 16 20 22 24 26 28 34 36 38 40 42 44 46 2

photo feature: laura-lynn petrick letter from the editors

pink potions: lizzy sermol a warm place: anthony wright floating on water: maeve kennedy fashion feature: tala kamea is this a dream: ange friesen 5 day dream journal: loren san cartier under the axe: sleep paralysis experience : nick gergesha a commitment to dreaming: corey venier ella morton: art feature fantastical reality: jenna vanderende taking some time to relate surreal (and truthful) experiences by robert voyvodic c into the sky: marshall orendt chain reactions: russell west gallery review: erika balint music feature: bizZarh literature feature: cristina rizzuto

The surrealism issue features photography by Lauralynn Petrick, who describes the series as exploring “the unexplained elements of our mother earth. These photographs are created through daydreams. They are altered visions of my reality.” She names this series “Hypnotized” *All images are by Laura-Lynn unless otherwise credited

Layout design by Lindsey Omelon

editorsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; notes

dear readers, 4

I think it’s safe to say that we are living in very surreal times. A time where much of our existence and environment is blurred – societal elements are being hybridized without firm modes of distinction. We look for the element of surprise by way of unpredictable juxtapositions; and by doing so, taking a stab at the backbone of rational thought. So what does this say about our society, right now? The surrealism movement remains unremitting today with its influence on art, film, writing, media, music, and – more recently in the spotlight – fashion. And it is revolutionary in its existence. It seeks to shake up and conquer control around cognition; liberating thought to be in its truest function. So, we took the origins of surrealism a step further in this issue by discussing means of promoting psychic automatism. We asked: what permits that moment of unchained expression? It may be ephemeral and by way of dreams, unlocking subconscious thought; or implicit through the use of psychedelics. Whatever the mode may be, we end up in an otherwordly pysche where our ethos run free in an unbarred arena. lindsey xx Once beginning my post secondary studies in art, I remember one of the first pieces of academic literature to really resound with me was Freud’s The Uncanny. In fact, I think I’ve referenced it in an previous article already. While it is not without its issues, it was the first time I had ever seen somebody try to articulate that strange incomprehensible and inexplicable feeling you get from experiences you can’t fully grasp. Dreams, the surreal, the uncanny: they fall under the same umbrella- that which we cannot fully access. Much like Freud and many others before him have attempted to do, we see art music and literature trying to express surreality in its many forms. It seems like when words fail us, we turn to other outlets to properly elaborate; so it makes sense that we turn to music and visual media as alternative modes of expression for the strange and otherworldly. With issue10, we look through this lens at the work of emerging Toronto artists to see how such a long-standing theme in the arts manifests right now, in our contemporary moment. Our features look to the sun and and the stars, the supernatural, and our strange world of dreams to create, narrate, and articulate. Enjoy. erika xx

contributing writer

I could see their outlines through the frosted glass. Finn never looked up at the door, only at his hands, the clock, the receptionist and me. Never at the figures behind the door, their forms exaggerated by the play of light and glass. My mother’s distorted curls made her look like the shadow of the Gorgon. The sharp strong profile of the doctor, with the loops of his stethoscope, made him look like a nightmare. I wished they would open the door. I wished they would tell me. I wished they would see Finn too. Ever so slowly, I slid seat by seat to be closer to the shut office door. Finn left his seat on the opposite side of the room and came over to lean against the doorframe, watching the fragments of sentences slide under the crack in the door where they littered the floor like scraps of wrapping paper. He picked them up, separated them into letters, made new words, new sentences, and then discarded them again, keeping me from considering their true content. I looked up anxiously to see if the receptionist was looking on disapprovingly, but she didn’t seem to notice the game. “It’s no good….” “But she says he’s real…” “There’s nothing we can do…years of medication…complications….” “We can’t afford it…” “We can take care of her here…it’s time she had professional help.” The voices stopped. Finn looked at me with a strange look. Like he knew something sad was about to happen. Picking up two of the words, which lay on the floor like crumpled tissues, he raised them in front of his chest: “It’s time.” The points of light on my red patent shoes splintered, broke apart. The door opened and the figures emerged, the Gorgon and the nightvision, their now-human eyes full of something like sadness. They stood in front of Finn, between us, ignoring him, staring at me. “Well, my darling, you’re going to be staying with Dr. Chase for a little while. First you have to drink this.” I sipped the pink liquid held out in a paper cup. After a minute or two, the lights seemed less sharp, the world a little softer at the edges. I was watching Finn, who seemed to shrink a little in his seat. He didn’t say anything, just looked and smiled sadly. Plucking “goodbye” from the air, he held the word out to me like a gift. “Goodbye,” I said, cradling the characters in my arms. “Goodbye,” my mother the Gorgon said. But I wasn’t talking to her. I was talking to the small, receding figure whose silhouette appeared momentarily in the entrance before slipping through the crack between the door and the mantle and out into the light. “I just wish you would stop seeing people. I just wish you could be a normal little girl,” my mother said, by way of parting words. “I just wish I had a friend. I wish you didn’t make him go away,” I replied, as Dr. Chase held my hand a little too tightly at the door.

pink po

tions 9 sermol lizzy

photo by afton arlana

contributing writer

AWARM P The nurse had jokingly asked me after sticking me to cardiogram pieces, “Where are you hiding that heart it’s hardly beating.”

I’ve never cried that much before. It was as if I could hear thunder rolling above me, something opening. I began panicking. My heart and organs felt like they were on fire about to collapse like a leaking roof. I felt as though something was tugging at my chest, calling my name and in my heart I knew it was death. I was shipped in air ambulance from a jet as I said goodbye to a crying family. Once arriving in Sudbury ON, I was sent to pediatrics where my heart began slowing down further and for a brief moment stuttering and stopping. The first few seconds were terror filled, but I was ready to let go; I could feel my organs shutting down which feels like a thousand knives piercing your torso at once. I battled for a long time with people who had never wanted me but I knew it was time. I felt my seventeen-yearold body giving its last fight—you resist at first but then there’s a void that grabs you and you give in. I felt a release that felt like a cord being cut with a hatchet. I remember seeing space, stars and a long dark tunnel opening with the sound of thunder rolling. I knew that I had to go through the light at the end, like a moth fly being lured by a bug zapper—it drew me in. I remember going through and feeling an intense temperature change. I then remember standing on a canyon looking upon

a horizon with a sun and a moon and a sky: organic landscapes as far as I could see. I remember I no longer identified with being a boy or caring about human form or flesh. In this dimension I felt only whole and complete. In my mind I felt every question that I ever had about life being answered. Why I existed, why other’s existed, and how the political forces of the Earth deceive all of us. I felt no more pain, fear, guilt, or grief. After a long span of timewhich felt like years on our Earth, I was approached by a being that knew no gender binaries, fleshly fears, labels or doctrine of humankind. It felt older than words can explain and I knew it had created me; reconciling my fears it gave me the options of staying or leaving. In utter euphoria I came to understand that our world is only the piece of a larger puzzle. I felt this force, as a whole piece of a universe so big there was no limit, the earth felt distant like a long forgotten land I never knew. A place that had caused me such pain. I was incoherent for days. I awoke and gazed at my surroundings with eyes made of molecules and flesh. My heart monitor began ringing like a chime that pierced my mind. I was in a blue room and looked at all the clear cords plugged into my body like a machine, I cried. I saw my frail frame, and heard the noises of children crying in a pediatric wing. I heard sirens blaring outside, and nurses shouting. I looked outside my window. There was a lake; a sun was setting beyond grey clouds and tall buildings. I saw small vehicles flying in the air

LACE by anthony wright

and cars running along streets. I felt the flood of deception come to reality about everything I had been taught about existence itself. I felt the energy of the afterlife running through my body; I was in shock. In these after moments of the NDE, I felt something happening inside my mind -- like a floodgate opening and releasing a dam of electrically charged water. I began feeling senses that I did not know existed, I could see in different areas of the hospital I was in and the surrounding landscape outside of the building for miles without actually leaving my room or even moving. I began feeling panic as I could feel the life force of people moving past my room and also those inside the city. Soon family started visiting me, it was difficult to explain what I was experiencing without my heart going off the charts. At night, I could not even bare to sleep. When I looked up at the sky, I could feel and see stars inside of my mind and within the universe for eons. I could feel the connection of my body’s molecules to those of the stars and the earth. I could still feel the place I was in before somewhere ‘out there’ distant and almost lost. The connection still was not broken. When I was released from the hospital

and my feet touched the ground I could literally feel for miles down under the earth moving below me. I could feel a vibration deep inside of the planet’s core; energy from the planet I had never felt before. I looked at people around me in this city bustling around catching taxis, texting, and pushing past people. This place was alien to me. A bird had landed in front of me as I was waiting to exit the hospital, and I could see it for the first time as something I had never experienced. I could see its heart beating through its flesh and tiny little organs inside of its chest. I could see a small light of energy inside of its body, like a tiny puzzle piece separated from a million piece picture. I felt everything at once in this moment, humming and vibrating with light and how everything was connected. When I was reintegrated back into school/family life, people misunderstood me. When I looked at people in their eyes I began seeing things within them, like past experiences, experiences yet to come and fears they had deep within themselves. Eight years after this experience in 2014, I quickly understood the best thing to do would be to compartmentalize such experiences for people will consider you to be “crazy.” Today I no longer have all of these sensitivities, and only sometimes get glimpses of energy or intuitive feelings about people and nature. When you die, you let go of everything you have ever been conditioned to think or to perceive. When I came back to this world, I was relearning everything in a new frame of mind. I felt the brain and its unlimited potential. It was like having a crowded chalkboard slate erased and realizing that everything that was written on my slate was a product of a doctrinal political agenda designed to make me feel guilty and shameful about my body and my existence. Now, the light, the warmth, the freedom, the end of time, the canyon, the stars – are all only a memory. The tunnel will come for me one day again, and this time I know what to expect. I will never be afraid again.

contributing writer

FLOATING ON WATER maeve kennedy

The first time I heard about hydrotherapy float spas was when a coworker came up to me with a bit of hop in her step. She bragged about doing “one of those floats last night” and described it to me -on a very basic level- as floating alone in an epsom salt pool for an hour in a dark, enclosed pod. TIME FLEW BY and she felt great.

On the day I went to the float spa I found myself making jokes about revisiting the life of a fetus (like I remembered?) or attemptedly witty references to sci-fi movies with non-humans floating in pods. On the other hand - floating, and only floating, for an hour seemed like one of those new-age, avant-garde, self-help, health practices. It could be worse. Just kidding. Hydrotherapy makes sense - water is one of the strongest forces in the universe and is imperative to our existence. We’re made of water, and we’re told to drink lots of it because its good for us. The not-so-explicit benefits of water begin to surface when we think about hydrotherapy, defined as the therapeutic use of water by external application. The benefits here may seem a bit obvious. Who doesn’t feel good after taking a shower, soaking in the tub, or jumping in the lake? Aquaphobics aside, we all know water ‘feels good’. It kneads onto our body, soaks into our pores, and (sometimes with the help of a bit of elbow grease) flushes out the toxins. Though we shouldn’t give water all of the credit; its the controlled environments that capitalize on the properties of water seem to be the true hero in the context of a hydrotherapy float. What I mean by this is that the float spa experience was not as simple or easy as floating in a pool. It was a carefully contrived setting determined to produce certain explicit and implicit effects. The float A floater has two choices for the style of their float experience - an open concept room or a pod. I opted for the open concept room because it accommodates two people and I had the pleasure of my boyfriend joining me. Apparently only one pea could fit in the pod (single floaters only). Nonetheless, it was an experience like no other. The pool is about ten feet by six feet, the body temperature water is really shallow - only a foot and a half deep. The attendant told us 1,000 lbs of epsom salts were dissolved into the water. She wasn’t joking either. When we got in,

I felt like a human buoy; it was almost a challenge to keep my arms submerged: the weightlessness was delightful. Then, the lights turned off. It was completely silent. And we were in this water. Floating. What the hell are we supposed to do for sixty minutes now? [Slightly self conscious I had brought my boyfriend on a really boring date.] The first few minutes, the state of my mind was very similar to laying in bed, wide awake, trying to sleep. There was nothing to do but think! I didn’t want to think- though thinking can be dreadfully involuntary at times. There was a point, not to far along, that I stopped thinking and started feeling. They call it sensory deprivation. And the sensory deprivation was real. My mind centered in on feeling my weightless body in this perfect setting of nothing (they say nothing is perfect…). You hear about blind people having a radicalized sense of taste, or how Beethoven composed masterpiece symphonies through vibration. When one sense is compromised - the other compensates and transcends ordinary sensory function. Its adaptation at its finest. The rest of the float it felt like I was in complete control of my weightlessness and my body inherently capitalized on this surreal feeling. There was no physical pressure - I could not tell where my body ended and the water began. My joints were liberated. Stretching took on a whole new meaning. I would stretch my toes and fingers in completely opposite directions, I felt like Gumbo floating in space. If I was floating in mid air - the sensation would have felt the exact same. All of my energy centered in on 1) how good I felt and 2) how I could make myself feel better. Shifting between laying still and bobbing around, I felt very aware of my body, knowing my bones were set in the exact place they were meant to. I hadn’t fallen asleep, but my mind was in this dream like state until the lights turned on. When the complete darkness ended it was so sudden- we thought the attendant had made a mistake. We signed up for a sixty minute session there was no way that was sixty minutes! Mindfulness is a mental state that occurs when one can completely focus on the present moment. Normally, entering a state of mindfulness requires regular meditation and a mature level of self-awareness. Float spas provide an answer for why mindfulness in everyday life is not an easy feat. We’re surrounded by the arbitrary ticking of the clock. We can’t hide from mundane distractions. The mantra close your eyes and relax is no longer mutually exclusive. You want to relax? Turn off your phone, double check that your calendar is clear, and then you can close your eyes and hope relaxing is the bi-product. Or, you can go on a trip to a float spa, where pre-manipulated, outlandishly minimal environments are anywhere from $60-$90/hour. Hey - its not the first time we’ve put a price on relaxation

image by tala kamea

fashion feature

TALA KAMEA

Fashion and surrealism have coexisted for a very long time, illuminating the costumesque element, and possible narratives for clothing lines. This remains true with label Tala Kamea, whose designer Tala Berkes does much more than just design clothes; she creates wearable art that resides where magic, mystery and movement intersect. The entire line is composed of evocotive garments paired with thought-provoking naming schemes, and when worn allude to more dreamlike phenomena. (lindsey omelon)

LO: How did you come to choose your first name, Tala, with your middle name, Kamea, for your label name? TB: I figured, there are a lot of really great label names that are not somebody’s name. I have a really hard time committing to something because I feel I change my name a lot. And my name is going to be my name forever, so it doesn’t make sense for me to commit to something that is meaningful to me name and a year later, hate it. LO: You have a very interesting name. What is your background? TB: So Tala is a Filipino name. My mom is Filipino. And Kamea is Hungarian, and my dad is Hungarian. I think I’m a lucky kid in the sense I was given an interesting name. I think now it is more common for parents to try to name their kids with very unique names. It’s sort of a reflection of our society. LO: So what immediately stood out to me when I went through your body of work was your synergistic approach to designing. That being said, I am a little apprehensive in giving a single term to describe your line. So how would you? Give me your elevator pitch. TB: Yeah… I am really not good at the elevator pitch. It’s actually something I really, really need to work on. In general, I guess I see my line as being something that is still very wearable but it is a little more interesting than your average off-the-rack piece. I think it is very clean but still with a lot of detail. So anybody with an eye will notice these interesting details – the interesting pleat on the shoulder, or the nice way the back cuts up rather than straight. So little details that make the piece a bit more interesting and special while retaining its wearabilitiy. People want to stand out, but not look insane. Or stand out too much

that they need to question, like “do I look crazy in this?” Wearable, but different. I don’t know… this is the worst pitch. Anything that is one-off, or individualized. I try to make things that are different than anything you can find. LO: I agree. I see that your work is all quite grandeur, but still easy to wear. They do have these surrealistic elements. Where do you draw a lot of your inspiration from? TB: In general I like to design with a final aesthetic in mind. So I don’t want things to look crazy, unless they are supposed to look crazy. But I still want them to be unique. So I look to a lot of natural forms. Which I guess is normal, I mean, what designer doesn’t say they are inspired by a flower or something. But animals as well – I actually name a lot of stuff after animals. So I will look at a shape and it will remind me of like a bird’s tail. And I design a lot inspired by a feeling. It’s not so much I look at an object, and want to translate that object into a dress. It’s more like I want to create a dress that moves a certain way, or will hang a certain way, and therefore facilitates movement, or the way that it hugs will give the wearer a more sensual feeling. I’m sort of inspired by a like, inexplicable intuition. Music and movement is very big for me. And flora and fauna. LO: Your names are extremely unique. You did just mention you name a lot of pieces after animals, so I was interested in knowing more about the significance of the name to the piece. Does it come after you create it? Before? TB: I usually name after the fact. Because will look at it and it will remind me of something. School is funny because you are given pretty strict guidelines to work within, but because of that I came out with some really interesting results. Like one project you’re given three guidelines: pick

image by tala kamea

kilambi design

a current designer and their recent collection, an object – in which case I chose this particular type of bird that is called the long-wattled umbrellabird, that has this crazy ruffle thing at its neck – and then you’re given a wild card. Mine was frogs. So from those three things I created a jacket and pant outfit. And because of those stipulations I came up with this really interesting jacket design. So the names, and the pieces, I tend to get all from nature. And maybe that’s just because the world is so crazy. Not that man-made stuff isn’t crazy. So most of the time, like I said, I’ll name it after the fact. I use Google a lot. Like I think “what is that weird animal” then I usually choose the really scientific name. Because I’d rather that then just be like “this is the walrus coat!” LO: You already touched on getting inspiration from music, and I would like to hear more about the project you did while at Ryerson where you actually integrated instruments into your designs. TB: That was my thesis project; I did my Master of Arts in Fashion at Ryerson. So I did a research paper and a 5-piece collection, which was intended to encourage the wearer to move and interact with the garment in different ways because they generated sounds. They weren’t electronic, but actually just mechanical in that you will move and create sounds. I used guitar strings on a cage skirt that if you stretched your legs out

wide enough, you would create enough tension in the strings to pluck them. So it was using materials that are commonly used in music, but also materials in fashion that could be constructed in a way that you could kinetically make music. My thesis was about experiencing clothing through sound as well, rather than just visually. So I wanted it to be very fashionforward, very couture, but with that added element of sound. Each item was modeled after a piece in the orchestra. So I had strings, percussion, woodwind, brass and voice. So that gave me a direction where I could focus on how to create the sounds. The woodwind piece wasn’t so much woodwind, but I used copper piping to create wind chimes. LO: There was this very interesting project you did with XS Labs, and it used this material that sort of resides in the uncanny. Was this an ongoing project? TB: So the XS Labs work was conceptual-based designs. XS Labs is working on textiles that are always changing – never staying the same. So it was to present what the future could be. The idea was that you are wearing something that will react to your environment. But you had to come up with your own concepts of what it is normally, and how it is after reacting. Mine was about camouflage, and defense. So I drew inspiration from cuttlefish, because they are crazy cool and they change colours just based on if they are hiding from something, or

trying to scare something away. My idea was that you have this beautiful soft dress on with very abstract patterns on silk organza, and the reactionary state is in a state of defense. It will expand in size, and is stiff and expansive. The idea is like you’re in a tight public space and someone is encroaching on you; like you’re on the subway and this creeper comes up at you and it just blows up. It reacts to your body temperature and your heart rate, and it expands. LO: I see a hybridity of post-apocalyptic narratives fused with sexuality and mysticism in your work. Is this fair to say? TB: It might not be intentional, but a lot of what I do is instinctual. Definitely I will say that I am a bit of a pessimist and I don’t think the world is a great place, so maybe that’s where those post-apocalyptic vibes come in. I feel like I can be a fairly serious person, so maybe that’s part of it. As far as the mysticism, that again is something that is in me. As a kid, I was super into mysteries. I like the idea of supernatural powers, energies, and the unknown. That is the stuff I grew up very into. It’s funny because the inspiration for my fall 2015 collection is called Mystic Minimalism. And it is really influenced by old school fortunetellers, and gypsies, and Hungarian folk dress. Like a 1920’s fortuneteller at a fair in New York, but cleaned up. kilambi design

TB: I think that there are a few designers out there that you could call surrealist. Including Margiela. A lot of the work coming out of Margiela’s atelier is based on illusion, and things not being what they seem. Just playing with what you see, and what it is. I also think that Elsa Schiaparelli and she was actually buds with Dalí. So her work is super important as far as surrealist fashion goes. And I think you see nods towards that in Margiela’s work. And Pierre Hardy – who works a lot with perspective and tricking the eye through shape and form – he has these shoes out right now, and they are a pump that has an embellishment on the toe that you don’t realize it at first. They are very playful. I think designers use surrealism in fashion for entertainment, and to be funny. Well not like ha-ha funny, but in a way that you feel joy because you’ve just discovered something. It’s hard to trickle it down into ready-to-wear clothes. LO: Okay, so I give you three things: a white shag rug, a bouquet of peonies, and a dozen straws. What do you make? TB: White shag rug, okay, and peonies are awesome. I think I would do some sort of hat. I would use the straws to prop up the peonies and use the material to case it. I think that a hat would be a fun, big, crazy item to make.

image by tala kamea

with love lingerie // carrie russell

LO: How do you see surrealism existing within the fashion world?

contributing writer

is this a dream? ange friesen

It very well might be. And if you’re going to become an oneironaut, it’s a question you’re going to want to ask yourself. Over and over and over. An oneironaut is, essentially, an explorer of dreams. It’s a fancy word for lucid dreamer, and I like it because it sounds like science mixed with magic. Which is exactly how I perceive lucid dreaming, actually, so it’s perfect.

increased the number of dreams I was having. Then one night, BAM, dream! Me! Awake! But dreaming! It was one of the most profoundly awesome things that had ever happened to me. This is what those in the dream business call a spontaneous lucid dream. I was just minding my own business, hanging out with giant tiger butterflies (or whatever happens in my dreams), when suddenly I became lucid.

Lucid dreaming: being conscious of the fact that one is dreaming, within the dream. It is not, as many think, the ability to control a dream (though some dreamers develop incredible facility with this), rather, it is just a sort of waking to the dream. Oh man, you realize, this is totally a dream. It feels exactly like real life, though sometimes a little realer. And suddenly, even though you’re not necessarily in control, you can definitely respond to whatever happens in the dream fully and consciously.

For me, spontaneous lucid dreams are rare. I’ve had way more luck with something they call WILD (wake induced lucid dreaming). For this, you essentially trick yourself into a lucid dream. Try it next time you wake up in the middle of the night. Stay up for a few minutes, and when you go back to bed, lie extremely still. Keep your eyes closed, and resist the urge to turn over and just fall asleep. When you lie there long enough, your body/brain becomes convinced that you’re asleep, while your mind stays up, and you can make the transition directly, and consciously, into dreaming. Well, there’s a weird/crazy whooshing thing and then it feels like your body is vibrating and you see flashing images in the dark and then you enter a dream. Like I said, science mixed with magic.

My first lucid dream happened as a result of experimenting with a supplement I read would give me a better quality of sleep (5HTP, but please google – I mean speak with your doctor – before just trying it yourself). It did, but it also

Other Tips: 1. Start doing reality checks. This is when you ask yourself, is this a dream? Find some kind of prompt (every time I look at my watch, every time I walk through a door, etc.), and then simply ask yourself if you’re dreaming? Other oft-used reality checks include reading text or looking at the time, then away, then back – if the letters or numbers have changed, chances are good that you’re dreaming. Other people sort of hop up and see if they float (lucid dream flying is second only to lucid dream sex in terms of lucid dream activity popularity1). Some people try to push their fingers through their palms (which seems kind of gross when you think about it too hard). I’m sure other people do weirder stuff than all that, but you want to pick something pretty subtle, just in case you’re not dreaming. 2. Look into the supplement thing. Again, doctors should probably be consulted, but lots of people have had luck increasing the number of lucid dreams they have by taking different supplements. 3. Just tell yourself you’re going to. Instead of taking strange herbs, you can just tell yourself “Tonight, I’m going to have a lucid dream” before you go to bed. This actually works. The Internet is full of other tricks for lucid dreaming (and lots of ideas for what to do when you get there – once you get bored of sex and flying. And sex while flying). Stephen LaBerge seems to be the king of lucid dreaming, and his book, Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming (alongside Robert Waggoner’s Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self) is mentioned in pretty much everything written about lucid dreaming, ever. Both are great, though sometimes a little… book-length. Good to read before bed, though.

1 2014.

Made up lucid dream statistics,

contributing writer

LORENSAN CARTIER’S They say the human brain dreams about two hours every night. I kept track of my dreams for a week and these are the only ones I remember. This was the first time in a long time my dreams have been such short snippets. I kept track of them by having a notebook at my bedside and writing them down right after I woke up. When the week was finished I gathered all my dreams from the note book and drew them all in one sitting. I had to go through a lot of other notes as I just used my regular note book and there was a lot of other ideas in there from my waking life. Idea for novels and youtube sketches with my dreams spattered through them made for a strange read.

5 DAY DREAM JOURNAL NIGHT TWO

I dreamt the soccer ball droid from the new star wars movie trailer had sexy legs.

NIGHT ONE

I dreamt about Batman villains: The Riddler and a very deformed Two-Face. They were looking out over Gotham and having a drink while discussing their plans to destroy Batman.

illustrations by loren san cartier

There was a third chair with another person in it. I think it was me. Suddenly my view changed to a movie’s “story board” plan.

NIGHT THREE My roommate and I were on the subway. He had just bought new eye liner that was so bad it made me cry how terrible it was. Then I found out it was sailor moon brand and was even more upset. Her name should not be on such shoddy products.

NIGHT FIVE dreamt a gigantic teenager came to my house at three in the morning to buy a drum kit my boyfriend had put on craigslist. He does not own or play the drums in real life. The sky looked like a pink sunset. My boyfriend brought out the drum kit to show the teen; it was just a bass drum with a plastic rock band drum set glued to the top. My boyfriend, roommate and the giant teenager all went on and on about how amazing it was. I knew it was shit. The teen gleefully gave my man one hundred dollars.

NIGHT FOUR

My friend and I were chasing a woman who had the body of a spider and the full torso of a human woman. I felt like we were being terrible people chasing her but it had to be done. We cornered her in a warehouse. We chased her around the warehouse for a bit until she found a gun. She started shooting and we couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t escape. I was kind of swinging around the circumference of the warehouse on a track. I had to kick a window open so we could leave. I lost my shoe and we both ran through the streets while dodging bullets.

contributing writer

under the by nick gergersha

experiencing sleep paralysis

Cold sweats. Panicked breathing. A stark and overcoming fear once I realize I am unable to move my arms. There are no dark, shadowy figures sitting atop my chest in this version of a classic myth, but the colours shooting in and out of my vision do their awful work well. It’s all I can do to lie and wait for this to pass, a passive and submissive prisoner trapped in a shell of tissue and assorted meats. Screeching like metal on metal run dry of oil, my head fills with the hollow sound of a hundred cogs as they grind my mind to a halt. Bats and axes fall heavily onto my chest, but they vanish as my head locks still. I try to breathe, but all I hear is a dusty wheeze as my eyes dry over and I can’t lift their lids. Someone is standing in the doorway. Rational thought eludes me as my wrists are bound tight to the bed. The pins and needles that accompany a rush of blood to an uncirculated area light fires in my nerves as I feel the icy cool adrenaline pump madly through my body. The scratching of metal across the floor ekes out a death knell reserved for those with neither space nor time. An index finger raises slowly to a tattered mouth. By now the full spectrum of colours is beaming through my eyes, piercing and jabbing at my lobes like a bothered botanist on a bad day at work. Balls of terror congeal in globules around my eyes and suddenly I cannot breathe. My chest is winded, heavy and pained like the forks of a thousand cigarettes burning through the ribs around my lungs. The blackened mass moves closer, step by step dragging its boots toward my head. I feel it smirk as it looms closer, positioning itself just out of my line of sight. I’d move to confront it directly if only my neck weren’t solidified in ice.

axe 25

When I’ve given myself time to think about it, I know what looms at the foot of my bed. It reaches just barely enough for my toes that my nerve endings fire outward, seeking to identify the loose connection that throws my aura into a tailspin. Though myth might define this presence as demonic or clandestine I know it for exactly what it is. It is faceless. It is haunting. It is all too familiar. What else but the nagging tickle of nervousness returning from the depths of semi-consciousness to butcher the ego and act out the id’s unrelenting desire to feed? Caught between reality and dreamscape, fully aware of the axe about to gnaw my face to bloodied shreds, I’m almost able to close my eyes as the shadow slowly slices open a portion of my cheek. A friendly reminder of the darkness that can eat me from within. As the ghost of anxiety recedes into my inner self I watch the shadow change and evaporate until nothing but a hazy mist covers my tired eyes. Covered in sweat and exhausted I pull myself out from under the covers and touch my feet to the floor. Rattled but not broken I drag myself out of bed and turn on the coffeemaker.

corey venier

a commitment to dreaming

contributing writer

Sitting across from Katie I’m reminded of those first few moments of consciousness after waking up. With her big dimples, goofy expressions and loose yet charming personality, being around her has the familiar comfort and quirkiness of dreaming. And that’s what we’ve come here to talk about, the joy and hilarity in reminiscing about our dreams that are often strange, sometimes hazy, but always uniquely our own. Knowing Katie for a few years now I’ve been lucky enough to hear about her weird dreams in passing. Two immediately come to mind where in both she is fleeing the altar moments before tying the knot. I ask her to tell me about the first dream. She giggles, and recounts the dream starting with her standing in her parent’s basement, looking out into the backyard to see a wedding party. She describes the wedding seeming very casual, and everyone looking very excited. Then, realizing she’s the one about to be married off panic settles in. “I don’t remember who the groom was, only that I wanted to escape,” she tells me. Just as logic seems to fly out the window in dreams, Katie’s perfect plan to escape from her impending nuptials was, well, out the basement window. Unfortunately due to the way her parent’s house is situated, sneaking out of the basement window would’ve put her right back into the yard where the wedding was taking place. And that’s where the first dream ends. I ask Katie what her dreams were like when she was young, wondering if there was anything strange about her slumbering thoughts even from an early age. “The most interesting thing about my dreams as a kid was that I only ever remember having one nightmare where I woke up scared,” she recalls. “I remember really good feelings otherwise from my dreams when I was young.” By the time she was 13, her interest in dreams sparked Katie to keep a dream journal. One of her friends had told her by writing down her dreams, her memory of them would improve. After a few months of logging her subconscious thoughts, she was able to remember two to three of her dreams vividly long after waking up. I ask her to tell me about the second dream where she ran away from her mystery groom. She remembers this wedding being more formal, set in a hall and having an altar. “The one thing that was distinctively different about this dream, is that I was a lot more logical in how I was going to escape,” Katie tells me. In her dream, she knew she didn’t want to marry the groom-to-be since she was

in love with someone else. What remains similar to her other dream is that she still has no idea who the groom was, or even the other man she was secretly longing for. Being the master of deception, dream Katie decided her best way out was to accuse her groom that he was the one secretly in love with someone else. Creating a scene, Katie defiantly told him she couldn’t tie the knot since he loved someone else. And this is where her second dream came to an end. Katie proceeds to tell me that her dreams became more intense the older she got. She started lucid dreaming when she was about 18 during the summer she spent back home at her parent’s between semesters at University. Working at a part manufacturing plant with her dad, she’d get up early every morning and take a nap when she got back home after her shift. She remembers being deep in dreams, while still hearing her sister and mom’s conversation from the kitchen. The conversation and dreams weren’t affecting each other, “It was like they were both existing side by side. My subconscious and conscious mind just sort of happening together,” explains Katie. I ask Katie what she thinks of her dreams about marriages. She tells me she’s always had positive views about marriage, and although she doesn’t know if she’ll ever want to be married, her parents are still happily together and her sister recently got married to the love of her life. “At first, it’s really easy for me to think my dreams about marriage could represent my own fears of commitment” She says, “But dreams are never that easy.” She ponders that marriage as a symbol in her dreams might mean commitment, but in a broader sense. It could represent a goal being achieved or committing to a life-changing decision. Having recently graduated from University, Katie is in the twilight zone of adulthood; while still figuring out what her post-education life will look like, not necessarily ready to make any big decisions. “Running away from these faceless grooms might represent the fact I’m not ready to take the next big step in my life, because I have no clue what that even looks like,” Katie tells me. The idea of marriage and commitment is a very traditional one, and for a girl like Katie, who loves mosh pits at concerts and drinking beer, running away from weddings in her dreams might be confirmation from her subconscious that it’s okay not to conform to a traditional role.

It’s interesting to note, while most dream dictionaries do bring up marriage as a symbol of commitment or finding love, it can also represent the unification of formerly separate or opposite aspects of ones self, specifically the harmony of both masculine and feminine traits together. The symbolism of marriage extends into the world Shamanism, where ‘spirit spouses’ are seen as an integral part of magic rituals. In some cultures, the bonding of a Shaman and their spirit spouse is necessary as part of initiation, with the spirit-spouse having the power of gender transformation to correctly pair to their shaman. We end our conversation with Katie reading a passage from one of her dream journals. “I was at a mall with some friends in a clothing store and I met a hot employee with a sketchy stash. We got talking and he had his arm around me and a few of the people I was with were like, ‘Katie, this happens everywhere we go with you!’ “ All I could think after hearing this last dream was – ‘This is exactly why we’re friends.’

art feature

ELLA MORTON

Ella Morton masterfully taps into the unknown. Her photographs toy with the mind, exhibiting the paranormal and the otherworldly while remaining grounded in imagery we are all familiar with: landscapes and cityscapes. She manipulates her subject matter to skew what we see, creating beautiful scenes rich with dark shadow and brilliant colour. Through Morton’s lens we are presented with the world after dark: a world that we can’t completely trust or feel entirely at ease in; read more below. (erika balint)

EM: I was born and raised in Vancouver and moved to Toronto in 2013 to pursue my MFA at York University. I also lived in New York for four years, where I completed my BFA in Photography at Parsons School of Design in 2008. I’ve been working as a visual artist since then and have attended residencies at The Banff Centre in Alberta, Nes Artist Residency in Iceland, and Full Tilt Creative Centre in Newfoundland. My exhibition record includes solo shows at Viewpoint Gallery and Ross Creek Centre for the Arts in Nova Scotia, Photo Center Northwest in Seattle, and Alternator Centre for Contemporary Art in Kelowna. I have created public art installations for The Crying Room Projects in Vancouver and Nocturne: Art at Night in Halifax, and I have a forthcoming land art project in North Jutland, Denmark, happening next June. In 2014, I was a finalist in the Untapped Emerging Artists Competition, as part of The Artist Project Contemporary Art Fair, and my work was also featured in the Contact Photography Festival. EB: Experimenting with different exposures and manipulating your final product is largely evident in your body of work. How did you hone this technique? How do you use it to creative narrative in your work? EM: I started working with long exposures around 2006, during my undergraduate studies. I began by making 1525 minute exposures to track different kinds of movements, like dancing or martial arts. I quickly became interested in how the layers of light within long exposure images made an overall space appear more expressive. In this vein, I used long exposures to create surreal landscape images during a residency in Iceland in 2010. Gradually, I discovered the breadth of other obscure photographic techniques (pinhole photography, historical processes, etc.) and the ways in which they can all make a scene appear more unusual

and intriguing. Now, much of my practice relies on using alternative photographic methods to personify something arresting or haunting in the scenes I am shooting. EB: Your photographs contest the camera’s inherent truth claims by taking real images and using them to manipulate meaning. Can you talk about how you arrived at this process? Have you always worked in this way? I’ve never been interested in capturing an accurate likeness of something in a photograph. I’m more inclined to use the camera in a painterly way, capturing the feeling of something through process, error and manipulation. Lately though, I have thought more extensively about the complex relationship photography has to truth and accuracy. I’ve been making tintype images (a process used in the 186070s) of online-sourced UFO photographs. I like juxtaposing the past and present in my work and seeing how an old technique can portray contemporary subject matter. I’m interested in how the tintype comes from a time period when people had unwavering faith that photographs were depictions of the truth. Now, with modern-day technology, we are skeptical of the truthfulness of most photographs. The combination, then, of the tintype process with the pixilated UFO snapshot juxtaposes the sincere and the dubious, leading us to question what we’re seeing. EB: How have your own thoughts, beliefs or lived experiences informed your work? Does your surreal imagery stem from something personal, or is it purely imagined? EM: I’ve always been fascinated with the paranormal, supernatural, bizarre, uncanny, otherworldly and unexplainable. I’ve had a few strange experiences in my life, and I think most people have, but none in particular that triggered my interest in the unknown. It is more that

photo by ella morton

EB: Please tell us a bit about yourself.

photo by ella morton

I believe that everyday life is deeply mysterious. I find that if you observe things closely, and with an open mind, it becomes undeniable that there is more going on than what we can see. EB: The technique you use in your Urban Mirages project sounds highly complex. Can you describe it to us, and how you use it to emulate the chaos of the urban landscape? EM: The technique was adapted from the Russian photographer Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii, who documented Russia in colour photographs from 1909-12. Since colour film had not yet been invented, he built a camera that took three black and white photos in quick succession. The three lenses were covered with red, green and blue filters respectively. He would then project the three negatives, sandwiched together with corresponding coloured filters to make a colour image. I modified this technique to emphasize the tempo of present-day urban scenery. Instead of shooting three photographs simultaneously, I shoot at different intervals, allowing crowds to move through each scene. After replicating Prokudin-Gorskii’s process digitally, the result is a technicolour recording of crowds

moving through a space. EB: Sightings is a series of photographs depicting human encounters with UFOs and other paranormal phenomena. Do the images directly correspond with others’ personal experiences – like those in the audio tracks – or are they a more subjective representation of those experiences? Are any of these narratives personal? EM: The Sightings photographs do not directly correspond to experiences of others or myself. Most of my ideas for this project came from looking at blurry images of paranormal happenings online. I used the hazy aesthetic of pinhole photography to mirror the ambiguity of those photos, creating a representation of how the paranormal exists in the public imagination. The audio track, which has accompanied these images in exhibitions, features my father and uncle separately telling the same story about a possible ghost sighting they experienced together when they were kids. Their two versions of the story are spliced together, highlighting the different ways they each remember the event, as well as their moments of

photo by ella morton

hesitation regarding the accuracy of their memory. EB: It seems that a number of your projects, like You Are Here and Night Vision, are captured after dark. What is it about nighttime that adds an air of mysticism to your work? Does it go beyond darkness and the unknown? EM: I began working at night when I was making long exposures, since I needed low light to create the surreal colour cast and blurred movement. Since then, I suppose there are a few reasons why I continue working with nighttime imagery. It does, of course, go hand in hand with the unknown and mysterious. I also like the dark, saturated colour palette that is present at night. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see my practice as focusing entirely on nighttime imagery, but more on observing the cycles and changes that take place through day and night in both rural and urban environments. Urban Mirages, for instance, is a very daytime oriented project, since it observes the formation of crowds in high-density spaces. Several of my other projects demand working at night, and I like the balance between the two. EB: I see globes in some of your more recent projects. What made you want to work more sculpturally? How do the figure of the globe and the idea of mapping play into your work? EM: I am always thinking about ways that photography can continue to reinvent itself as a medium, particularly now that image-making is so accessible and prolific in the form of phone cameras and social media. One of the ways I see potential for this is in combining photography with other mediums. The globe sculptures Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been working on are meant to be shown with photographic works, all of which concern our relationship with the supernatural and how it takes on both rational and outlandish forms. I take advantage of their connotations as antiquated objects and then transform them into sciencefictional, post-apocalyptic planets using a variety of materials.

My interest in mapping comes from my tendency to shoot landscapes. I am intrigued by how places seem to have their own persona and how layers of history are imbued in a place. The globe sculptures will be shown alongside cyanotype images I created during a summer trip to New Mexico, which is a place that is known for paranormal happenings, among other things. The photographs of the New Mexico landscape represent real, tangible places where many stories about the uncanny, whether true or not, have originated. The globe sculptures represent the more outlandish end of the spectrum- the kitschy collection of relics that form marginalized theories about the unknown, but still deal with the same basic questions about the nature of the universe. EB: Do you have any upcoming exhibitions for us to share? EM: I will be having a group show with my York MFA classmates in January: Encounters Artscape Youngplace Hallway Galleries 180 Shaw St, Toronto, ON M6J 2W5 Jan 20-Feb 2, 2015 Opening Reception Thursday, January 22, 2015, 6-9pm Check the website for updates: artscapeyoungplace.ca I will also be having my MFA Thesis Show next April: Dubious Cosmology Gallery 1313 1313 Queen St W Toronto, ON M6K 1L6 April 15-26, 2015 Opening Reception Thursday April 16, 2015, 6:30-10pm Gallery website: g1313.org Artist website: ellamorton.com Twitter/Instagram: @ellasharpmorton

contributing writer

bay blanket #3, 2014

FANTASTICAL REALITY jenna vanderende

No artist within Canada’s contemporary art climate presents such a balanced dichotomy of truth and mystique as Kim Dorland. Throughout his practice, Dorland has woven for us dreamscapes of a fantastical reality. Recognized especially for his Thomson-esque application of bold colour, the artist bridges images of Canadian landscape with phantasmagoria in ways ultimately surreal. Initially exhibited at Angell Gallery in Toronto (October 4 through November 8th, 2014), Dorland’s latest collection of works entitled “I Hate Poetry but I Love TV” offers viewers an intimate glimpse into the artist’s home life. This insight, however, proves far from the ‘snapshot’ type image critics have cited and happens despite the artist’s reliance on said framework for reference. Fundamentally, Dorland’s work highlights what is hidden within the mundane, what lies beneath his vantage of domesticity, outside of the simple snapshot. “All that we see

or seem is but a dream within a dream,” put forth Edgar Allan Poe. It is this sentiment that Dorland evokes within his works. Rather than a rendering of two-dimensional reality, Dorland transports his viewer into a new world, an alternate world, and one much truer. Here in this proxy environment, Dorland makes us attune to the multiplicity of experience, subjectivity, and the mystery implicit in everyday life. The artist uses his canvas to create scenes of an almost hyper-reality which force us to rethink common depictions of family. Take for example Bay Blanket #3: Dorland’s wife, and muse, appears naked under a sheath of iconic stripes, images of family dress the wall behind her. A seemingly knowable image—we are informed that it is his wife, his muse, his marriage bed— yet, her mutated impasto face dissuades us from maintaining a resolved reading of the work. The distortion insinuates a lack of knowledge of this

assembly, 2014

obviously present ‘other.’ As if voyeurs, we are aware of her subjective experience. Moreover, we are made intensely aware of our own: Is this a portrait? Post-coital? Is she posing, acting? What is suggested by the illegibility of the family photos? We are aware of our inability to prod this experience, to know her, to know him, to know, and we are mystified.

fireworks, 2014

Further, Dorland pushes his audience throughout the series and invokes a feeling of otherworldliness as within Assembly—faceless drones sing out of a sea of stars into the abyss. While the viewer is immediately struck by the work’s relationship to school days, beyond the initial reading lingers a bounty of provoked uncanny thought. Almost cosmic, the image leaves us to ponder the future, be it that of our children or the unknown reaches of our universe. Dark yet hopeful with a tinge of post-apocalyptic thought, “I Hate Poetry but I Love TV” invites its audience to question the fine line of reality by introducing to us a new perspective by which to view it. Throughout the series Dorland imbues a sense of wonder into each scene he authors. Often, this is accomplished by means of his signature underpainting as in Vernissage where skies burn florescent and cerulean shadows animate the foreground. Noticeably, the concept of youth percolates the series—ice hockey, swimming pools, March Break, graffiti, fireworks, mischief and bike rides urge us back to adolescence. Whether this examination is brought on by the responsibilities of raising children or nostalgia for a period of life now past, the foray itself delves deeper than it’s face value may imply. The series works as something of an open-ended question regarding the human condition. What does it mean to experience? How do we experience? What do we experience? How does experience change? Certainly, Dorland has found influence

vernissage, 2014

in his kin, but within his creations lie a deeper examination of society and social relationships. Despite releasing these intimate family moments into the public realm, Dorland makes known through his treatment of the subject that their inherent intimacy is not lost. We may be privy to the image; however, the experiences will forever be private. Therein lies Dorland’s truth, the inability to know or be altogether known. Whether a thought, desire, or future reality, the mystique implicit in life proves the constant. This is Dorland’s fantastical reality, perhaps one truer than our own.

contributing writer

taking some time to relate surreal (and truthful) experiences robert voyvodic c

5:42 boring. looking out the window and seeing the same old street is as cliché as it sounds. hold on , stay with me. my quivering deficiency is giving birth to worded limbo… exhausted gasping neurons beg for pillszzssz and HERE i am railing into your imagination , fingering punctuation wondering if i really feel like getting heavy without the commas yeah for sure up from the deep end - you should try to conjure something from this sick tired turtleshell of blind literary fidgeting…. Extraction piece – the page is dated july 10 2009. i actually dated it . i was sitting in this room watching drippy wallpaper chasing its tail in a recurvatum nightsweat. in short i was on drugs. X amount of days out of 11th grade, gifted with a dose of DI ISO PRO PYL TRYP TA MINE. i remember sketchy mike, runny nosed genius saying its like a gram of mush, but sound gets fucked up after an hour or two, like every sound is dropped several octaves and i was like yo sick dude thanks. into the cave, into the deep briny bitmap . so i dosed one night (always alone) , july 10 2009, after my dad had gone to bed. said yeah ok this feels like a gram of mush and wrote absently onto this paper that was found today oct 29 2014 in a bag of broken patch cords. today [ 5:54 ] i look away from the window, down to the page , read “life happens in seconds – instinctual determination of consequent irritation / somewhere someone is restlessly giggling / sleepless / his masterfully ironic drama, electric with contradiction, is his distraction for an impressive neglection; she won’t return his calls.” so i was 17 then and i swear i still remember listening to ion dissonance writing hearing everything so fucking low, and later on the beach, just before i watched the jaundiced sun climb out of its sleeping bag into the skyyyy, i traced a little river away from the lake and a minute into the woods. There (reveling at the perceived lowness of my voice , rambling ), i came upon a profoundly dead little turtle. having muttered subsonically drifted some 6 kilometers by that point I had come up from the deep end , felt able to CONSOLE the dead. said aloud “rough night eh??” before erupting collapsing in laughter. High talker , low talker , turtle-spirit , and rising sun all found my ‘joke’ not only funny but impressively final. as if death had been reversed , the world was laughing through me …….. READER are you still

with me? i still have two stories….. same beach a month later (no date available) a visiting friend and i dosed 2CE (chemical name: 4-ETHYL-2 , 5DIMETHOXYPHENETHYLAMINE. Description: synthetic psychedelic. Uncommon, has a short history of human use. may 2011: 3 deaths reported) august 2009 joey and i dosed on the beach, egodeath. if you ever get the chance to forget your name and face , if the earth ever gifts you with reversebirth [to enter the underneath], you will know HAPPINESS (not compatible w queen st. west). i swear …. to know that your body is an appendage of earth, that everything outside that is beautifully IRRELEVANT , promising yourself unworried drift into all futures.. its a happy death.. collecting rocks for no reason forming (in)animate friendships.. cut adrift…….. ive got one more deathless story….. june TWO THOUSAND & TEN . more or less, a year late. Later. i am with a friend and her bedroom is filling up w smoke. future death…. her mother flutters in , lit up by a vision she has just had. “bob, whats the pearl necklace about?” NO IDEA , SUE. but – bless her soul - sue continues, “your mom just came to me in a vision and showed me a pearl necklace. she was very happy. she told me she wants your dad to be happy…..” bizarre symmetries. did my deceased mother really just speak to sue?... on earth, the two had never met.. i placed a call to my sister , who started crying . (april 16 2007 cancer takes one, ours..) woe to those who live without their happily dead.. on the phone, sister told me that she had just helped our father pick out a pearl necklace, a beautiful necklace, for his new girlfriend . i laughed, cried , recurvatum depressions spinning out of the deep end onto the same old street. the surreal is……. Duality. curious laughing aberrations of symmetry, or maybe to really know i/we should ask my father…. i don’t really take hallucinogens now (verified 6:27 oct 29 2014), but instead bend myself around a guitar or pen, doing my part to dish XTRA LIFE into our modern situation. sometimes pills.. NONE OF life is anything if you aren’t thoroughly lost. LOST.. the surreal is…… vexing singularity?? living is as cliché as it sounds. we should ask my father, while my deceased mother smiles at him from somewhere/nowhere, laughing through Sue at the impressive finality of

contributing writer

INTO THE SKY We’ve all read the studies.

We’ve all heard Joe Rogan’s supportive cries. We all think we know what it will show us. None of us know a single true thing. My first-hand account will fall drastically short of revealing or informative. I was concerned that my mindset would belittle my experience. Recent love lost and a summer of living in the bush had me tired and with new friends: Not my safety net. I have experience with psychedelics and usually find they are far from enlightening. My first time with DMT showed me why. I inhaled five big breaths, holding each as long as I could until my vision clouded. Lying back under rows of old growth cherries I was overly aware of my body. A pressure was building at the base of my skull, an embrace that I hadn’t realized I was missing. I was lifted and removed from myself. My heart raced and my breathing was deep but rushed. A peaceful panic was taking over. Although I was sure it would pass, I was also certain I was dying. I stopped thinking my heart would stop when I felt tears streaming down my cheeks; my last thought was how strange that was. I had no cause for alarm. With eyes half closed I watched the sky open. The usual deep reds of an Okanagan sunset were being replaced by an encroaching purple. What little clouds there were shifted to

marshall orendt

an empty black as my field of vision began to narrow. I stopped trying to see understandable things.I can talk about The Grid and the fractals that I spoke with, but I can’t tell you what they taught me. I can talk about The Veil and the pressure behind my jaw, but I can’t show you what it hid. I was shown a vastness just within myself; so great and encompassing that the only true knowledge I had time to absorb was the fact that I know nothing at all. I used to think I was somewhat enlightened. I no longer have such audacity. Whatever plane DMT allows us to glimpse. Be it the bigger picture, our workings as a whole, or the ethereal passages within us. It is a humbling journey. There is much to be seen and much happening beyond our control or vision. I have remembered what a simple finite creature I am. The sense provided to my beings makes it impossible to conceive the grand design. It is difficult to convey something you can t even begin to comprehend. The anxieties that I had and stress I carried became so minor. For weeks since I have felt empowered and driven. I am more apt to let negativity slide and less quick to temper. I have an increased patience with people who may offend me. After all they are only as ignorant as me.

Pyschedlic: DMT, Free-based Mind State: Anxious, General Stress, Apprehensive, Skeptical With?: Two individuals besides myself. One partook, the other has extensive experience with ayahausca. Vocation: Harvesting edibles, travelling Location: Creston B.C., Cherry Orchard Environment: On a comfy blanket spread under a row of cherry trees at dusk in the Okanagan Valley.

Other Substances: Marijuana

contributor contributing writer

CHAIN R

EACTIONS Through the passage of time we develop memories. Memories that are perceived as swirls of sensory data, in an ethereal vault-like realm, unattainable. Experiences allow creation of the mind’s operating system, which is a series of dimensional ideologies and beliefs creating the framework and pillars in the house of mind. Within us we have an incredible potential; a capacity to either build this home, or to let it decay.

There are many outward factors that affect us; birth attributes, the physical world, losing loved ones, social situations, improper psychoactive use and more. So be prepared: A chain of unique events echoed alongside your memories can create just the right circumstance for mental disaster. An improperly assembled mind will crumble when left to all the elements. Should you somehow find that your castle’s foundation has sunk, remember these notes. Stop. Think. Don’t do anything rash. You will survive. Think positive, visualize, and meditate. Keep the possibilities for healing open. Connect with a friend. Get hugged. We live in a highpressure society and the mind can get bent out of shape naturally as a byproduct. Remember how far you’ve come. Think of the good times, hold it high as a lantern.

russell west

photowwww.culturestorm.ca www.omulecki.com image source:

gallery review

photo www.omulecki.com

Witnessing Celestial Bodies: Igor Omulecki’s Waveherd is coming to G44 Gallery 44 – one of my favourite photography galleries nestled in 401 Richmond – has a real treat in store for us in 2015. Polish Artist Igor Omulecki’s photo series titled Waveherd (2010-2013) will be on display from January 16 (opening reception at 6:00pm) until February 21. The series is the third part of his Family Triptych project spanning over five years: the others are titled It (2009-2010) and Lucy (2007-2009). The project in its three parts can (and should be) viewed in succession on his website: http://www.omulecki.com/ Omulecki draws from elements of his personal life, exploring the work-life and family-life dichotomy, the parent/child relationship, and our natural environment. In Waveherd, the artist creates eerie and otherworldly scenes using everyday materials like sugar and steam. The Gallery 44 website describes the series as “a unique narrative about

A REVIEW BY ERIKA BALINT

celestial and familial rhythms.” If you’re someone that appreciates art for it’s aesthetic qualities, then these striking photos will captivate you on those grounds alone. The technical complexity of this series is baffling, and draws you in even if all you’re looking for is a pretty picture. On a much deeper level though – depending on how deep you’re willing to dig – there’s a lot to discover and appreciate in this series’ narrative. The photographs tell a story in relation to one another, and then again in relation to the other two series. This story exists on several planes, all intersecting at different stages, and gets us looking at our small lives in The Big Picture. Do some initial investigating on the artist’s website, but nothing beats the experience itself. Mark your calendars for January and head out to see this one: I promise it will deliver.

bizZarh

photo by shane parent

music feature

Can you envision what cosmowave might sound like? Meet bizZarh: the super talented Toronto female musical duo creating and defining their own sound: something like if shoegaze met R&B. Drawing from their spirituality, the stars and the otherworldly, you’re gonna be hearing a lot of buzz about these gals in the near future; see what I mean below. (erika balint) EB: Please tell us a bit about yourselves B: Collectively, we’re aged at 41 but at this point we’re convinced that bizZarh has existed long before our physical bodies. We came from different families, went to different schools, but we were both raised in the same ‘hood by single mamas and we mutually understood music as a medium for elusion. We are young, black girls, avid tea-drinkers, wild dreamers and daughters of the earth who love trap music, thought-provoking conversation and the internet. BizZarh is simply an extension of us... plus celestial, outerworldly vibes. EB: And how did your two personas converge to make bizZarh? B: Our personas are like fire and water but we vibrate on the

same frequency. After parting with a friend we once made music with as trio, we soon realized that it was the sign of another door opening for us. This is our basis for believing that everything happens for a reason. BizZarh happened instantly as we heard how well our vocals meshed together. Whenever we flow, rap and sing together, we create a harmonious tone we call it “mint”. It’s all symbiotic. EB: Can you describe your process for writing music? What fuels your lyrical narrative? How do you compose the music behind the lyrics? Are these two processes symbiotic or disparate practices? B: The key component to our music is our instrumental choice. We aren’t yet at the stage where we are producing beats just yet

so for now we rely on the handful of our favourite producers. We listen to their instrumentals on repeat for hours and let the creative energies around us produce lyrics. It all happens organically; to be honest, some of our favourite lyrics come to us at random. Either one of us can get a spark while blogging or washing the dishes, then we’d call each other up like “yo, i’ve got this one line stuck in my head..” and the other would add more substance to the idea. Other times, we’ll hear a beat that is so good to our ears we’ll write until there’s no room left for anymore lyrics. Going off our current vibe is essential. To us, writer’s block simply means our creative energies are uninspired and will come back later. We’re patient though .

EB: Did bizZarh coin the terms cosmowave and spacewave? Can you elaborate on how celestial matter influences your songs as well? B: We grew tired of trying to categorize our music because there isn’t much of a specific genre for what we do. Cosmowave describes our feminine, sultry and soothing vibe while Spacewave reveals our more rowdy, adventurous and freebased music. EB: Outside of your musical practice, do any other channels of surreality, dreams, spirituality, and the otherworldly captivate you? B: We’re deeply into divination; astrological events, dream interpretation and moon cycles. We’ll release music, blog posts and photos based on ideal happenings in the universe. As women, we really embrace our receptive and intuitive abilities and we just go with the flow of life. EB: How long have the two of you been making music as bizZarh? How do you see your music shifting and evolving?

photo by shane parent

EB: I understand that the two of you often work apart from one another. How does the physical separation affect the way you two create music? B: More than often, when we’re feeling inspired we’re physically apart. We used to have a shared folder via MSN that we called “the house” and in it we stored beats we liked, pictures we were inspired by and other media that eventually formed the bizZarh that exists today. We’re both perfectionists and are also very sensitive about our new ideas, so when we’re apart we’re able to exercise a concept and refine it before we bring it to one another for adding on. We thrive off the feeling of impressing each other with new musical ideas and it’s always amazing when the other is like, “Damn, how’d you even come up with that? Ok, but listen to this though.” Our ideas always blend together seamlessly. It’s a natural process, but there is a system to it. EB: Does spirituality inform your music? I’ve read that your song Pangaea is dedicated to a Wiccan goddess, so do Wiccan ideas play a larger role in your music and in your personal lives? B: Our music exists because of spirituality. Just like the concepts of Wicca, we believe that life is a lucid experience and that we can shape and shift our realities with our thoughts and words, especially with the assistance of light bodies/positive energies that exist throughout the universe. Brida is the goddess of hearth that inspired Pangaea. She is born of the elements fire and water and so is bizZarh (Champ is a fire sign, Paris is a water sign)

B: We’ve been crafting together for about six years and we’re only just getting started. Eventually we’ll play instruments, produce beats, perform with live bands and even sing on mountain tops. The possibilities are infinite so long as we exist and create. EB: Do you see yourselves as a potentially collaborative act? If you could work with anyone, who would it be? B: There is a long list of dream collaborators for bizZarh. Toro y Moi is one of our favourite bands and Chaz is an incredible producer. We’re going to make some surreal music together one day

photo by shane parent

EB: What are you working on right now? Can you fill us in on any new releases on the horizon? Where can we hear you perform over the next coming months? B: Everyday we’re working on and perfecting our craft, aesthetic and overall health and happiness... and releasing music as we feel is best. Though we wish we could give you a date for new stuff, it’ll be best to experience it when it’s ready. For now though, you can catch us casting live spells in and out of Toronto over the next few months. (December 18th Studio Bar, Dundas St W) + (February 6th Hillside Inside 2015 Festival, Guelph, ON)

literature feature

SANCTUARY OF LOVERS cristina rizzuto

I love all the things there are, and of all fires love is the only inexhaustible one; and that’s why I go from life to life, from guitar to guitar, and I have no fear of light or of shade and almost being earth myself, I spoon away at infinity. - Pablo Neruda

Snowflakes bloomed under our feet. We danced in silver moonlight as the skies shed a single star in melancholic ecstasy. I saw you through lachrymose lids. Up on the limb, you were spellbound by multi-coloured sounds, you were young and beautiful. I wanted to remember you like this, in the light of dark, in the tomb of night. Stillness is part of the performance of sun and moon. Di Chiricho painted the world’s chaotic infancy in their hearts, two symbiotic beings, only recurrent through lucid dreams. I looked at the sky and began to count stars, my voice reverberating off lake water settling somewhere on a distant rooftop as rain. Creamy droplets came fast, bringing grey clouds down with them, and bounced on drums, pianos, beating violently against a fragile world. Perhaps we can fulfill that last line and believe in nothing but love. I swallowed my history in one gulp, the wine sliding down my throat, like dark, muddled memories. We were haunted from the moment that we met we were each other, we were the plants, and life went on. Water seeped into my hair as I tried to make an angel, freezing the music in my head. I stood, weak, heart pounding, and watched snowflakes fill in the space, its shape already soft, distorted, gone, in seconds. I read the stories in the sky once upon a time, in the perfect golden eternity, as we swayed under blinking neon lights, those I took to be blankets of endless stars. The earth sang to me when our hearts were invincible, in the dark sanctuary of lovers. All of it made sense amidst love and infinite white light. For now let’s agree to love madly, I say before I wake.