Transplant: Issue 9 by SAD Mag

There and back again. You have opened one half of a two-part and two-cover magazine. Sad Mag finds itself at an editorial crossroads; as such, from either cover to center spread, our ninth issue tells stories of transition. In broad strokes, we showcase movements from East to West, West to East, Canada to America, America to Canada, female to male, and male to female. But in particular, we analyze movements of hip-hop culture. Hip hop originated from disc jockey mash-ups and loops derived from a variety of records. Both the music genre and culture as a whole continue to flourish from their interactions with external sources. Hip hop thrives on inspiration and re-appropriation. It is a pastiche that borrows from other cultures for the sake of self-reinvention. As a culture, it belongs to neither the West Coast nor East Coast, but has instead bloomed across the continent and infiltrated a broad spectrum of undergrounds from city to city. Hip hop is always in transition, and so too are the following stories. In this issue, Sad Mag speaks to antiquarians of Vancouver’s once vibrant but now quiet graffiti scene. We weave through the strobe lights of our city’s burgeoning hip-hop karaoke and queer hip-hop cultures. We revisit the ever-present notion of No Fun City and ask hip-hop artists Shad and geneva.b to tell us about their own movements in and out of Vancouver. More importantly, we learn why they may have to stay out. Check your credentials, hold on to your passport, and take a deep breath Vancouver. This one’s a doozy. — Adam Cristobal, Co-Editor-in-Chief

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

EDITORIAL STAFF

Sarah Arboleda geneva.b Adam Cristobal Paul Hiebert K. Wade Janzen Stefan Krecsy Jeff Lawrence Shmuel Marmorstein Carmen Faye Mathes Clayton Pierrot Michelle Reid Shad Maegan Thomas

Katie Stewart Creative Director

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

Maegan Thomas Advertising Sales Manager & Publication Assistant

Sara French Monika Koch sylvie le sylvie Lenkyn Ostapovich Monique Wells Cover Illustration Monika Koch/Lenkyn Ostapovich

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Jeff Downer Angela Fama Brandon Gaukel Lisa Hill Leigh Righton Katie Stewart Ryan Walter Wagner Wayne Webb

Adam Cristobal Co Editor-in-Chief

SAD MAGAZINE PUBLISHING SOCIETY BOARD OF DIRECTORS Deanne Beattie, Brandon Gaukel, Dave Deveau, Daniel Zomparelli, Chandra Chinatambi, Sarah Tesla, Wil Aballe, Robert Lutener

Jeff Lawrence Co Editor-in-Chief Monika Koch Designer

SAD MAG WOULD LIKE TO THANK

Michelle Reid Web Editor

geneva.b Ralph Bingham Peach Cobblah Diana Theodora Christou The Cobalt Bobby Cuffe Annie Ericsson Paul GT Chad Iverson Lisa Hill Roan Hurley Kevin Kerr The Lab Shad Zack Singer Jeff Stiff Sarah Swinwood Diana Taborsky-Tasa Iris Taborsky-Tasa Matt Churchill’s MacBook Pro Coffee

Deanne Beattie Editor-at-Large Founding Editor-in-Chief Brandon Gaukel Founding Creative Director

Sad Mag is published four times per year by the Sad Magazine Publishing Society, Suite 534, 2818 Main St., Vancouver, B.C., V5T 0C1 Email: hello@sadmag.ca ISSN 1923-3566 Contents ©2012 Sad Mag. All rights reserved www.sadmag.ca www.facebook.com/sadmag www.twitter.com/sadmag

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

EDITORIAL STAFF

Sarah Arboleda geneva.b Adam Cristobal Paul Hiebert K. Wade Janzen Stefan Krecsy Jeff Lawrence Shmuel Marmorstein Carmen Faye Mathes Clayton Pierrot Michelle Reid Shad Maegan Thomas

Katie Stewart Creative Director

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

Maegan Thomas Advertising Sales Manager & Publication Assistant

Sara French Monika Koch sylvie le sylvie Lenkyn Ostapovich Monique Wells Cover Illustration Monika Koch/Lenkyn Ostapovich

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Jeff Downer Angela Fama Brandon Gaukel Lisa Hill Leigh Righton Katie Stewart Ryan Walter Wagner Wayne Webb

Adam Cristobal Co Editor-in-Chief

SAD MAGAZINE PUBLISHING SOCIETY BOARD OF DIRECTORS Deanne Beattie, Brandon Gaukel, Dave Deveau, Daniel Zomparelli, Chandra Chinatambi, Sarah Tesla, Wil Aballe, Robert Lutener

Jeff Lawrence Co Editor-in-Chief Monika Koch Designer

SAD MAG WOULD LIKE TO THANK

Michelle Reid Web Editor

Deanne Beattie Editor-at-Large Founding Editor-in-Chief Brandon Gaukel Founding Creative Director

illustration Lenkyn Ostapovich

Contents opening photo by Wayne Webb

3. Dispatches 5. Dream Vacation / Shad Rising hip-hop artist Shad on his transition from T.O. to VanCity

8. Cut from the Same Cloth / Jeff Lawrence Designer twins Iris and Diana Taborsky-Tasa are divided, yet conquering

9. Homo Homies / Jeff Lawrence Rap and drag collide on Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s East Side

11. Graffitti, Gagged / Adam Cristobal Bobby Cuffe and Lisa Hill reveal Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hidden graffiti past and silenced present

15. Photo Essay: Pacific North Wet

illustration Lenkyn Ostapovich

Contents opening photo by Wayne Webb

3. Dispatches 5. Dream Vacation / Shad Rising hip-hop artist Shad on his transition from T.O. to VanCity

8. Cut from the Same Cloth / Jeff Lawrence Designer twins Iris and Diana Taborsky-Tasa are divided, yet conquering

9. Homo Homies / Jeff Lawrence Rap and drag collide on Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s East Side

11. Graffitti, Gagged / Adam Cristobal Bobby Cuffe and Lisa Hill reveal Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hidden graffiti past and silenced present

15. Photo Essay: Pacific North Wet

“I’m an Ontarian at heart: I genuinely suspect that people who hike are crazy, I don’t understand Whistler, and I still make fun of hippies with joy and precision.”

nearby is helpful. It also appears to be the only neighborhood with other black people. Most of all though, I appreciate that I’ve stumbled on a great crew of friends on my block—an outgoing, thoughtful, spiritual community that embrace me despite my transience. I scored a room in [Hey Ocean bassist] David Vertesi’s family home when I first moved out here and he’s since become one of my best friends too. Dave introduced me to a lot of his buddies in the music scene like the Said The Whale guys and Hannah Georgas—another homie and former neighbour. I’ve enjoyed watching their careers progress. In the hip-hop scene, I’ve hung out and worked with a lot of dudes since coming here too from Moka [Only] to K-OS to the late Randy Ponzio who will always be missed. The scene here is much smaller than in T.O. and consequently I think there are some serious challenges for artists starting out. There is generally less industry infrastructure, but there are definitely still some talented artists doing cool things. I’ve also noticed a lot of friends in the music scene here getting involved in community programs and local politics. I think the city has a 7

bright future if those folks can continue to shape it into a more creative and inclusive place. Now that I’m done school, I’m not sure how long I’m going to stay in town. I like my life here but everyone I work with is back East so it would make sense to move back. And Toronto is a great city. It’s culturally dynamic, places don’t close so crazy early, and the average home doesn’t cost a million dollars. Above all though, I think the place where you grew up will always be home in a way that nowhere else really can. I’m still an Ontarian at heart: I genuinely suspect that people who hike often are crazy, I don’t understand Whistler, and I still make fun of hippies with joy and precision. I also can’t help but miss the hustle and bustle back East and the smell of hot garbage. I’ve been conditioned. If I do move back East soon though, leaving my friends and the fresh air out here for good will be tough. Vancouver isn’t perfect but I still really like this place. S For Shad in conversation with geneva.b, and other points of view on No Fun City, check out www.sadmag.ca for online-only content.

photo Angela Fama /lettering monique wells

Diana and Iris Taborsky-Tasa are identical twins at opposite sides of the country. Each have chased down slightly different versions of the same success story in the Canadian fashion industry: Diana opened her boutique Les Étoffes in Montreal, and Iris has based her sustainable clothing label Haiiku out of Vancouver. “I thought Vancouver would be a good place to focus on my work. In Montreal, I continually devoted and divided my time into many other projects but my own,” says Iris. She is the older of the twins by three minutes. Four years have since passed since she came west, and Iris has adapted to Vancouver’s laidback way of life. “The weather plays a huge part in Vancouver’s style. In Vancouver, there is yoga wear, and in Montreal, there are velvet track suits,” she says, slyly. “I’m sure you know the ones I’m referring to.” But Vancouver is more complex than Lululemon and comfort wear. If it weren’t, Iris would not have planted her roots here. “The styling here is much more conservative and sartorial than in Montreal. However, Montreal is much more eclectic, and there is a certain elegance and ease to the way Montrealers dress,” she observes. “Vancouver has more British and Asian influence, while Montreal has more French and European flair.” Her label, Haiiku, draws inspiration from Alfred Stieglitz’s portraits of his wife, the work of painter Georgia O’Keefe, and Tim Flach’s Equus series. The label showcases timeless, elegant, and understated pieces that have an ease about them, much like this city. “This collection was a study in textual soft structure,” she says. “I mixed various weights of woolens with leathers and silk and cotton voiles, playing with layers, pleating and draping. The fabrics are always my starting point to any collection.” During her time in Vancouver, she’s evolved as a designer, but remains true to her original aesthetic. “I’ve grown a lot as a designer since then and I have a clearer vision of what I want,” she says. The future looks bright for both halves of this fashion duo, and there’s a chance their dreams could one day merge. “I see maybe eventually opening up a sister store here,” she says. “A sister store to my sister’s store.” - Jeff Lawrence 8

s s

d, d

photograph,” says Hill. She got her foot into graffiti culture through her interactions with fellow skateboarders. “I could take a lot of time. I was kind of a loner and all of these places were really secluded and in weird locales, so it was like an adventure. I had a lot of time, a lot of space; I just wanted to be there with the pieces.” Pieces are one thing, but getting to know graffiti writers themselves was an entirely different ordeal. Even as a “little punk rock girl,” and even with a circle of friends involved in the graffiti scene, Hill had to tread carefully. “I had to build trust with them,” she says. “It took time for me to get to know people who wrote graffiti, to have them let me know when and where they were writing, and have it be okay for me to photograph their writing.” To photograph graffiti for exhibition is an invasive act. It’s a paradoxical art form that simultaneously demands display and anonymity. The lust for fame remains at the heart of graffiti culture, but not quite in the same way most people understand fame. Most writers do not wish to be known by their name, but by their work itself. Work that can be pointed out on a street corner

and work that has been proliferated across the urban jungle, wall after wall. This impulse can be traced in the graffiti culture of other cities too. “In New York, which people really think of as graffiti’s birthplace—people tag everything,” says Hill. “It was all about fame. It was all about living in a borough, and having your tag travel to all the boroughs.” “You want to be able to pull that thing out at some afterhours,” Cuffe explains. “You’re someone in the underground.” But to be someone in the Vancouver underground scene required skill. “Here, people were really starting go beyond fame and actually being so invested in being the best artists,” says Hill. “I feel like we have some of the best artists in the world. For sure. I’ve never ever seen graffiti like we have .” It might seem a little odd, given this city’s impulse to clam-up, but we’ve got talent. Hill and Cuffe particularly dote on Vancouver graffiti writer Neos. Neos immigrated to Vancouver from Guatamala in 1986 and worked in experimental graffiti primarily between 1990 and 12

1993. “He’d have this fetish to do Mickey Mouse, and he’d have this thing where he’d do binary code, 010111011010101, all over the bottom of the piece,” says Cuffe. Neos was a unique voice in the city, but was initially denied acceptance into Emily Carr on account of his portfolio. At the time, graffiti was not considered portfolio material. “Years later, Emily Carr had an entire wall that they let students graffiti. But at the time, it just wasn’t happening.” While perfectly aware of graffiti’s impermanence, Vancouver artists including Neos, Ephx, Dedos, and Z-Lok cultivated their craft, while quietly working from sketchbooks to walls under West Coast moonlight. It’s a romantic notion, but not all artists were as skilled. Cuffe claims that, at one point, to ride the original SkyTrain was to watch the digression of graffiti as one travelled further and further out of Vancouver and into the suburbs. “To achieve the pinnacle of style we’d homogenize at the top,” he says. “But you had all of these disruptive kids.” That is, amateurs who cared less about the craft and more about the five-second fame that comes with a glance at a tag from a train window. Amateurs who, in all likelihood, would not be accepted into Vancouver’s graffiti crews. Crews are part of the graffiti mythos and hip-hop culture at large. While the idea of crew fights can appeal to Westside Story sensibilities, they exist for the sake of efficiency. “Everyone works collaboratively to get the piece up and done before you get busted,” says Hill. Several specialized members of a crew must paint quickly. A crewmember for characters, a crewmember for letters, a crewmember for particular lines or colours. According to Hill, crews are not particularly large, and most of the crews she photographed were comprised of two to four people—crews enable writers to tackle more challenging canvases. “When doing trains, you want at least one person watching your back,” says Hill. “Doing trains is another level,” says Cuffe. “You have to get there first. I could go outside, walk around the corner, and write some graffiti on that wall, but I can’t get to the train yard, climb over fucking 16 sets of tracks without getting my foot cut off on some switch before I get to the trains, let alone getting out of the yard without being heard or seen. It’s just more hardcore.” To paint a train is to have your piece travel from city to city, across North America, to be displayed beyond your locale and where you stand. Train writing is the pinnacle of graffiti’s movement, and permits an artist’s piece to weave through urban veins that travel from coast to coast. Sadly, Vancouver’s graffiti scene has undergone a transition that is not necessarily for the better. Most of the so-called graffiti seen in public spaces is government-controlled. Until 2010, Vancouver’s city hall maintained a graffiti management program. “Once you got arrested and convicted for graffiti

writing, you were expected to go into what was called the Restart program,” explains Cuffe. The Restart program hired convicted graffiti writers to paint commissioned murals in an attempt to mitigate further graffiti. The content of was determined by city hall, and the results were odd. Really odd. “You end up with a lot of flowers and trees and birds and skies,” says Cuffe. If graffiti culture is part of the hip-hop movement, this government-sanctioned ‘graffiti’ is entirely divorced from canonical hip-hop subject matter. “You might get some of the style and because of the medium you see the look, but really, the message is completely lost by the time it gets filtered by the legalities.” All fluff and no substance. Vancouver gagged its own graffiti culture, and this is the result: neutered and lobotomized multicultural idealism that remains part “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and all “British Columbia: the Best Place on Earth.” “I don’t look at it in the same way,” says Hill. “I don’t photograph it now. I notice, of course I notice the art in the city, but it’s not interesting to me in the same way that it was before.” This port city, a nexus of trains, would be an ideal place for graffiti writers. But Vancouver’s graffiti culture is gagged. “We can get you in some places where people do what they want, but you’re not going to see it in public spaces,” says Cuffe. Luckily, Vancouver’s Restart program has since lost funding. The city may yet regain a once-purged culture. Perhaps city hall will not always be blind to all beauty that is not just natural splendor and a tamed yuppie paradise. “How many other groups of people decide it’s a good idea to go out and give something to the rest of the world by making everything colourful?” asks Cuffe. “Even though they all have their own goals and their own motivations, the end product is this. Nobody takes ownership of it, but they share their culture publicly and get punched back down for it. And they keep coming back, because they have something to say.” S

following pages, in order of appearance: pp. 15-16 Ryan Walter Wagner, Jeff Downer 14

â&#x20AC;&#x153;I think if you hate Vancouver, you really just hate yourself.â&#x20AC;? Clockwise from top left: Lady Di, Paul and Chad, Sarah Tone In

following pages, in order of appearance: Jeff Downer, K. Stewart, Wayne Webb

HHK I first heard about Hip-Hop Karaoke five years ago, when my old camp counselor Daniel Mate posted a video of himself performing all nine verses of Wu-Tang Clan’s classic “Triumph” on stage in New York City. As I watched a fellow nerdy Jewish dude ripping up a hip-hop anthem, I had two thoughts. One, it looked extremely difficult (“Triumph” contains 1033 words), and two, it also looked like something I needed to do immediately. In December 2009, I finally got my chance. I saw a poster advertising a Hip-Hop Karaoke night in Vancouver at the Fortune Sound Club in Chinatown. After practising Big L’s “Put It On” approximately 300 times, I got on stage with a liquid stomach and looked out at a crowd that suddenly got much larger. I boldly rejected the offered lyrics sheet, politely asked the audience to put up L-signs, and somehow got through it without fucking up. I was hooked. I wasn’t the only one. Hip-Hop Karaoke quickly became one of Vancouver’s most popular weekday nights out, welcoming both hardcore heads and casual rap fans. It was founded three years ago by two Vancouver transplants. Paul GT was back in his home city of Toronto and heard a friend describe the local version of the event. He mentioned the idea to his friend Chad Iverson, who came to Vancouver from Mission in 2004 and shared Paul’s love of underground hip hop and snowboarding. “It was just one summer when we were both unemployed. We both got laid off at the same time and we were kicking it on the beach every day,” Paul reminisces over beer and deep-fried pickles at the Rumpus Room. “We spent the whole summer basically plotting how dope it would be to bring HHK out here.” “Good things come out of unemployment!” Chad says.

“Every four years everyone should just get a sabbatical no matter what your job is,” Paul adds. Chad then pitched the idea for a hip-hop karaoke night to his boss at a local skatewear company, Garret Louie. Louie was also part owner of the Fortune Sound Club. They were thrilled by the night’s success and surprised by how welcoming the Vancouver music scene was. “Before HHK, I thought every promoter was shady and just wanted to make money, but I was so out of the scene. When I met everyone and started doing it myself, it was a huge contrast. That whole perception was totally shattered. Everyone is just doing it because they love the music and that’s exactly why we’re doing it too,” Paul says. Chad is also grateful to have found a home in Vancouver. “Everything is better here compared to Mission. At least for what I like. Mission is a pretty small little city and there isn’t much there for young people other than drugs and working in lumber mills. I was coming to Vancouver from Mission all the time to go to hiphop shows, coming back at 2:30 a.m. and waking up at 6:30 a.m. to go to work.” While Chad admits feeling frustrated by the low attendance at many rap shows, neither promoter had any patience for Vancouver’s popular pastime of running itself down. “A lot of people in Vancouver come down really hard on the city like that whole bullshit No Fun City label,” Paul says. “You’re imposing that on yourself. If you want something to happen here then you gotta do it. It’s more like ‘Make Your Own Fun City.’” “Yeah, how can you hate this city?” Chad says. “I think if you hate Vancouver, you really just hate yourself,” Paul laughs.- Shmuel Marmorstein

photo Angela Fama /Lettering monique wells

Stylish twins Iris and Diana Taborsky-Tasa have always been close. Even as each sister launches fashionforward businesses at opposite ends of the country, Canada’s enormity cannot divide them. Iris is a designer, whose sustainable label Haiiku hails from Vancouver, while Diana spearheads the highly-curated boutique Les Étoffes on Montreal’s St. Laurent Blvd. Les Étoffes, known for its attention to up-and-coming designers, chic offerings, and innovative window displays (fake organs and fine dresses hanging from meat hooks), came to be three years ago. “I wanted to create an honest business that would cater to likeminded people…with a nod back to the days when clothes weren’t mass-produced,” Diana says. “We wanted to evoke a value system of quality and individual style. We’re also extremely and unabashedly passionate about what we do—that helps.” Both sisters live and breathe fashion but at opposite ends of the spectrum. One designs and one sells. This dichotomy is reflective of their respective personalities. Despite this difference, they shared their initial foray into fashion as children. “We grew up with creative and free-spirited parents so it was only natural for us to adopt their penchant for artistic expression,” says Diana. “At a young age, Iris and I were taught to make the best with what we had. Luckily, we didn’t need much.” Armed with a sewing machine and deadstock or vintage fabric, Diana and Iris would sew together for hours. “I miss my sister terribly,” she says. While her sister moved to Vancouver to create her own clothing line, Diana stayed in Montreal.“I have never lived in any other city,” she says, “but would love to transplant to Europe one day.” “There is something just so appealing and sacred about the old world,” she muses. “I’ve only been to a handful of places in my life thus far but I do believe that we experience or come to be at our best when we’re in the right place; geographically, culturally— whatever it may be. - Carmen Faye Mathes 8

photo k. stewart

on a more reserved cultural vibe in Vancouver. I remember attending a rap battle when I first moved there and thinking to myself, “There’s not even one black person!” That just seemed odd to me at the time. While there were definitely pockets of cool kids in Vancouver who play music I’m into, there just didn’t seem to be a big scene for what I like. If I was a folk singer or in an indie band, I might have felt more of a connection to the scene, but I was largely disappointed. It felt like Vancouver’s music scene was always on the verge of something really momentous, but it never happened. I make music. I make it so I can connect with people. We’re all sharing the same experience. Music is really about community. But without people supporting each other, there’s no movement. I want to be where people are involved with each other, with what’s around them. Sometimes in Van City it felt like someone could be bleeding in the street and no one

would even stop. People don’t look at each other. I tell my friends that when I left for Vancouver, it was the perfect time to go and when I came back East it was also the right time. Having lived in both places makes me truly appreciate their differences. There are pros and cons to each place, I just know Vancouver is not for me. People support what I’m doing more in Toronto and things have really come together since I moved back. I feel a deeper sense of community and encouragement here. I strongly believe Vancouver needs to step up in terms of fostering a climate where artists can truly build a sustainable music community that resonates across the country and beyond. S For geneva.b’s conversation with Shad and other points of view on No Fun City, check out www.sadmag.ca for online-only content.

i l

Lightning Storms and Other Strange Happenings. The concept for the issue you hold in your hands was born in the course of 1 airplane ride from West coast to East coast. It was rather strange how it came about, but as far as I’m concerned, anything conjured at 40,000 feet in the air while witnessing a lightning storm must hold some weight. Transition, movement, transplantation, an evolving state of being: that is what’s happening here. So many artists, writers, and musicians have extracted themselves from the cosmopolitan jungle that is Toronto or Montreal and transplanted to lotus land—and vice versa. Some thrust roots deep into their new city and evolve into something radically different, while others do not. Some simply traverse the country like railcars, changing appearances and gathering stories from East to West and back again. The very nature of transition and transplantation involves the deconstruction of self to some degree. Trimming off the excess and retaining only the basic unit. It’s risky business to pack your entire life into a tiny suitcase and transplant to a new city, a new version of yourself: there is a rawness and vulnerability there on which we rebuild ourselves. The photography featured in this issue reflects this idea: the basic units in raw form. Every image printed here was shot on film or Polaroid rather than digital—a transition in medium. Every photographer experienced the uncertainty and simultaneous excitement of not knowing whether they’ve created something beautiful or something disastrous—and having to wait to find out. There is a certain beauty in that waiting. —Katie Stewart, Creative Director

EDITORIAL STAFF Katie Stewart Creative Director Adam Cristobal Co Editor-in-Chief Jeff Lawrence Co Editor-in-Chief Monika Koch Designer Michelle Reid Web Editor Maegan Thomas Advertising Sales Manager & Publication Assistant

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Sarah Arboleda geneva.b Adam Cristobal Paul Hiebert K. Wade Janzen Stefan Krecsy Jeff Lawrence Shmuel Marmorstein Carmen Faye Mathes Clayton Pierrot Michelle Reid Shad Maegan Thomas

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

Cover Illustration Monika Koch/Lenkyn Ostapovich

Brandon Gaukel Founding Creative Director

Sara French Monika Koch sylvie le sylvie Lenkyn Ostaopovich Monique Wells

Deanne Beattie Editor-at-Large and Founding Editor-in-Chief

SAD MAGAZINE PUBLISHING SOCIETY BOARD OF DIRECTORS Deanne Beattie, Brandon Gaukel, Dave Deveau, Daniel Zomparelli, Chandra Chinatambi, Sarah Tesla, Wil Aballe, Robert Lutener

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Jeff Downer Angela Fama Brandon Gaukel Lisa Hill Leigh Righton Katie Stewart Ryan Walter Wagner Wayne Webb

SAD MAG WOULD LIKE TO THANK geneva.b Ralph Bingham Peach Cobblah Diana Theodora Christou The Cobalt Bobby Cuffe Annie Ericsson Paul GT Chad Iverson Lisa Hill Roan Hurley Kevin Kerr The Lab Shad Zack Singer Jeff Stiff Sarah Swinwood Diana Taborsky-Tasa Iris Taborsky-Tasa Matt Churchill’s MacBook Pro Coffee

Sad Mag is published four times per year by the Sad Magazine Publishing Society, Suite 534, 2818 Main St., Vancouver, B.C., V5T 0C1 Email: hello@sadmag.ca Contents ©2011 Sad Mag. All rights reserved www.sadmag.ca www.facebook.com/sadmag www.twitter.com/sadmag

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

Cover Illustration Monika Koch/Lenkyn Ostapovich

Brandon Gaukel Founding Creative Director

Sara French Monika Koch sylvie le sylvie Lenkyn Ostaopovich Monique Wells

Deanne Beattie Editor-at-Large and Founding Editor-in-Chief

SAD MAGAZINE PUBLISHING SOCIETY BOARD OF DIRECTORS Deanne Beattie, Brandon Gaukel, Dave Deveau, Daniel Zomparelli, Chandra Chinatambi, Sarah Tesla, Wil Aballe, Robert Lutener

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Jeff Downer Angela Fama Brandon Gaukel Lisa Hill Leigh Righton Katie Stewart Ryan Walter Wagner Wayne Webb

Contents opening photo by Jeff Downer

3. Dispatches 5. Your Scene is Wack / geneva.b geneva.b dotes on Beautiful British Columbia but dishes the dirt on Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passivity.

8. Cut from the Same Cloth / Carmen Faye Mathes Designer twins Iris and Diana Taborsky-Tasa divided; are conquering

9. HHK / Shmuel Marmorstein 11. Photo Essay: We Built This City

illustration Monika Koch

Contents opening photo by Jeff Downer

3. Dispatches 5. Your Scene is Wack / geneva.b geneva.b dotes on Beautiful British Columbia but dishes the dirt on Vancouverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passivity.

8. Cut from the Same Cloth / Carmen Faye Mathes Designer twins Iris and Diana Taborsky-Tasa divided; are conquering

9. HHK / Shmuel Marmorstein 11. Photo Essay: We Built This City

illustration Monika Koch