WAT is Zine?: Year 1 Compilation

ISSUE 9 — Year 1 Compilation Editor-in-Chief Matt Comeau

TEAM LEADS

Submissions/Editing Lily Roth Layout Design Clara Xi Art Diana Tran Marketing Michelle Xie

FEATURED CONTRIBUTORS Absalom Abalone Baz Kanold Cassie Lim Clara Xi Emilie Stanley Gloria Cheung Hannah Haviland Jacqueline Meldrum Jasmeet Chahal

Jessen Liang JVCPhoto Kemar St. Hill Lily Kramer Roth Martha Merrall Nelson Wu Nishshanka Weerasinghe Sophie Barber

Cover art Joely Wu @watiszine | watiszine@gmail.com 2

LETTER FROM

THE EDITOR

This issue marks a full year that WAT is Zine? has been a club and a publication. It feels weird to say something like that. We have always had a narrower focus, prepping for the next issue, the next term, the next submission that I don’t think we ever stopped looked backwards and the progress we have made since then. To think what started as a little summer fling-turned-fall-idea has become a slowly growing, fully-fledged arts publication is a gratifying feeling.

I am not going to regale you with stories of hardships, gruelling work, and lavishing victories. The reality is that is not the nature of this club, and it isn’t really me either. I tried my best to build the foundation and let our rotating cast of writers, artists, graphic designers, marketers, layout folks, and leaders shape this into what they wanted it to be, and what they thought the UW community could benefit most from. I’m not the guy with all the ideas, I’m simply just the guy who got the ball rolling and helped to facilitate the access to our artistic community here.

Looking back, now that I’ve had a chance to, I think the biggest lesson I’ll take away from this project is that being an artist, or being involved in the artistic community can take so many different forms. I’m not a great painter, or a great musician (or even a great writer quite frankly), but I like to think that by doing what I could to support the artistic side of the student body here has made a difference. At the very least, I hope it’s inspired the members of our club, our readers and our contributors to engage more with arts in our community and for themselves.

As the cold weather begins to hit, I hope you all can enjoy this especially comprehensive issue. It features favourites that selected and voted on from all the issues to date, in one handy little package. While this may just be our favorites, there are so many other fantastic submissions we have received that you can flick through in previous issues. This truly is a compilation of our work so far, and we are certainly looking forward to making more.

Have a great Fall : ) Matt Comeau Editor-in-Chief

❦

WAT is Zine?

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TABLE OF

CONTENTS

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Issue 1: Home (Oct ‘19) Locked Out at 2:13 AM Hamilton is Home

05 08

Issue 2: Wellness (Nov ‘19) Comfort A Harsh Reality

10 12

Issue 3: Winter (Dec ‘19) Winter Emotion Amaryllis

13 19

Issue 4: Relationships (Feb ‘20) Mutually Assured Destruction Sun and Moon

20 24

Issue 5: Diversity (Mar ‘20) Untitled Sketches The Final Act The (Deviant) Kiss

25 26 28

Issue 6: Sustainability (Apr ‘20) Seeing Glenrock

29 32

Issue 7: Heroes (May ‘20) Black Lives Ally

34 35

Issue 8: Dreams (Sept ‘20) Untitled Waking // Missing

36 38

LOCKED OUT AT 2:13 AM

absalom abalone

“I hate you!”

I wrestled the bottle from his hands and threw it to the floor. The glass shattered and its shards were scattered across the small room. I began to cry. I’d cried in front of him before, but I never cried like this. The way I felt, the act I had just committed: this was something I could only—and before now did only—fantasize about. Like a dream come true in the realest sense.

When he had opened the door, his eyes were half-closed and bleary. Now they were blinking, slowly widening into what was likely surprise and also what I hoped was fear. His mouth grew open bit by bit and I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath.

HOME

5

I felt wrath flood into my blood like white-hot fire. My jaw was trembling. My shoulders heaved with every breath as he stood there frozen, stick-still. The fluorescent kitchen lights shone down on us like spotlights. Tiny slivers of sharp glass gleamed on top of the cold, white floor tile.

“I hate you! You don’t care about me at all! I knew it!”

I felt as if I was no longer an inhabitant of my own body. The words I yelled came from the mouth of a lookalike actor in my place. But I hadn’t felt that I lost control of myself.

In fact, I had never felt a moment before in my life where I felt such self-possession and mental clarity. I stared daggers into his eyes. They remained slightly glassy, but his face was hardened. I went on: “You never think about me! Do I even mean anything to you?”

My face was red and wet from my tears. Seconds hung in the air. He was motionless when he spoke.

“Abby—” “I’m nothing to you!” I blurted. This wasn’t part of the dream. This wasn’t part of the fantasy. Why wasn’t he following the script? His expression was stoic and inscrutable.

My breathing was rapid and heavy, and I could feel my pulse pounding from within me, ready to burst. I started to sob.

“I thought you loved me. But you don’t. You...” I couldn’t finish. All my clarity and wrath had vanished and was replaced with shame. My throat was twisted in knots and ached in pain. You don’t love me, I wanted to scream. You don’t love me. You never loved me. I hate you. I cried harder. The floor was getting wet with my tears. He remained as statue-like as ever.

I burned with humiliation. I couldn’t stand to be there anymore, underneath his judgement and scrutiny. I grabbed my apartment keys from the kitchen counter, where I had left them last afternoon, before I stormed through the front door, making sure to slam it on the way out. It slammed loudly and stung my ears.

I opened the door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway and sat down on the first step. I didn’t know if I hoped that he would come look for me here or not. The old stairwell was never used by anyone in the apartment building; it was cramped, dusty, and dirty. The unfinished, jagged concrete of the steps were as cold as ice. I brought my flimsy windbreaker tighter over me and continued to shiver and weep, gasping pathetically in the stale, musty air.

After some time—perhaps it was minutes or hours—I fell asleep.

I woke up with a start, completely disoriented before I recalled the events of the night before. My face flushed with embarrassment at the memory, although it seemed so distant now. I checked my watch for the time. It was 9:30. I couldn’t believe it I had slept in the stairwell for that long. My joints were stiff and painful, and my whole body ached as I stood up. I wondered where I would go. I couldn’t crash a friend’s place 6

ISSUE 1

since I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened last night. But I also wanted a hot shower. I decided that I would go back to my apartment for a short while—he was usually still asleep at this time on weekends anyway.

I stopped in front of the apartment door, ready to slide the key into the lock. My thoughts spiraled wildly in my hesitation. Why did you do that last night? Are you just trying to cause drama? Why are you so over-emotional and needy? He already treats you well. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to break up with you. Maybe you were right when you said that he doesn’t love you. Maybe it’s true that he never did. I don’t know how anyone could stay in love with a person like you.

I opened the door. The kitchen light was still on, even though it was already bright outside. A broom and a dustpan rested against the kitchen counter; most of the glass shards were gone. He sat at the far end of our tiny dinner table, his right arm propped up against an armrest. He held his head up with his hand. His eyes were closed and I watched his chest slowly rise and fall.

“Hey,” I whispered, “I’m home.”

I watched him sleep for another minute. Then I picked up the broom and began to sweep away the rest of the glass.

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HOME

7

HAMILTON IS HOME

Outsiders see my hometown as a place of manufacturing pollution and an image of disgust. But amidst the poverty and small layer of grime, there are so many layers of beauty.

8

ISSUE 1

jvcphoto

I love this place.

Hamilton is home.

HOME

9

ISSUE 2

10

WELLNESS

11

A HARSH REALITY jasmeet chahal

Being given advice that you are already aware of hurts the most Maybe because we know the truth of the matter, We are aware of the toxic reality, But we have convinced ourselves to reject it accepting it entirely because it is much more comfortable to live in a delusional state of mind So when somebody else confirms these already existing beliefs that we have not yet confided in, These beliefs that hurt to confront, The knife is pulled out a little further We are pushed to do what we do not want to do, even if it is the best thing to do We are pushed to sweat, to quiver, to feel lonely, To hear what hurts us and to contradict our hopes and desires, And most importantly, we are pushed out of our comfort zone The pain is not hidden, we are aware it is there But we have hidden it safely in our chambers so that it cannot speak to us Its volumes have been muted, the voices have been silenced and the truths have been neglected We have not yet confronted this pain Because keeping the knife there Is much less painful Than pulling it out And pushing it a little deeper may harm us in the long-term, But we choose to ignore the signs, just to be a little more comfortable temporarily, Rather than confronting reality, Because the truth will always hurt more And we like to believe that this world is good, that it is fair But it is not, However, The greatest of lessons are learned from the harshest of experiences And sometimes, the knife needs to be pulled out, For all the poison that has been growing inside, all the ignorance, all the false realities and truths, to finally empty out To start fresh and come to terms with that pain The deepest pain results in the most rewarding form of healing-growth And it is much better to break free of the shackles of delusion, Than remain where you are, cuffed to unrealistic expectations

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ISSUE 2

WAT is Zine?

The Rocky Mountains tower over a small boat launch on a frozen glacial lake in Alberta, Canada.

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ISSUE 3

Winter Landscapes by Jessen Liang

WINTER

15

WAT is Zine?

Gas produced by bacteria in Lake Minnewanka freeze in the winter to form ethereal bubbles trapped under the surface.

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ISSUE 3

Winter Landscapes by Jessen Liang

A boat sits, silent, as ice thaws around its mooring on Toronto’s Harbourfront.

WINTER

17

WAT is Zine?

A puppy kicks up fresh snow in Nose Hill Park, Calgary. Nose Hill is the fourth largest urban park in Canada, with 11 square kilometers of natural area in the middle of Calgary.

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ISSUE 3

AMARYLLIS

lily kramer roth

I. Bulb cocooning. in the winter it sleeps awaiting the expulsion of colour into the world. the earth churns out a sprout and, later, the bees will breathe unto them a soul.

II. Stalk in a pot by the window it sits on a stack of books, green neck moving heavenward while the record hums: our love is like the flowers the room is cold but its green head tilts to the sun ready to burst forth ruby red. the rain and the sea and the hours how long till the musical cacophony ends? how long till the graceful transformation begins?

III. In Bloom hearing the birds muffled singing from outside the sun rises, blinds drawing light lines over the room. red velveteen petals open to delicate insides. crimson stars in the bleakness of late winter. for one moment of brilliance you guide me, striving through the window signaling the coming spring before being beheaded—

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WINTER

19

20

ISSUE 4

nelson wu

RELATIONSHIPS

21

22

ISSUE 4

RELATIONSHIPS

23

SUN AND MOON clara xi

24

ISSUE 4

UNTITLED SKETCHES

sophie barber

DIVERSITY

25

THE FINAL ACT

26

ISSUE 5

emilie stanley

As someone who identifies as a non-binary gay individual, I find that our culture puts a lot of pressure on people to have a solid understanding of their identity. That is, if you're going to be different, be proud of who you are! Consequently, figuring out your identity is a huge process, and within that process, you may even experience periods of uncertainty, fluidity and ambiguity.

I wrote the poem "The Final Act" with the intention of expressing the voices within me that strive for perfection and a solid understanding of my identity. The word "denouement" is a term that describes the end of a play when the conflict has been resolved. To me, this reflects how I do not want to want to reveal the uncertainty in my identity, especially because I went through such great extents to reach where I am now.

The photograph was taken through the eye of a mask, and it is to show how, even though at times I appear proud and confident, on the inside, I still have a sense of uncertainty in who I am.

Ultimately, as a culture, I think we need to start embracing fluidity, growth and diversity instead of always labelling people before they are ready.

Photo collaboratively taken by Caitlyn King and Emilie Stanley.

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DIVERSITY

27

THE (DEVIANT) KISS baz kanold

Oil and collage on canvas 1.5 x 1.5m This appropriation of The Kiss by Gustav Klimt is a commentary on homophobia. The two lovers share a tender embrace in a bed surrounded by a void of hatred around them. The collaged pages come from both historical texts about homosexuality being a mental illness, along with headlines – all from 2019.

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ISSUE 5

SEEING

hannah haviland

Materials: paper, wood, moss, stone, adhesive.

Seeing combines my passion for science, speciďŹ cally entomology, with my artistic abilities and concerns for nature. Raised on a farm in rural southern Ontario, I draw from personal experience and attempt to translate these feelings and observations into something that both left and right brained people can understand. In attempting to create work that both scientists and artists are eager to engage with, I explore topics to inspire and ignite curiosity in the hidden world of entomology. Seeing is composed of paper and natural elements combined to create miniature sculptures to be presented in groupings through installation. The increased scale and grouping of each insect directly relates back to how the subjects can be found in nature. Through creating small, detailed, intimate works I highlight the fragility and beauty of insects.

By using the aesthetics of beauty, geometry and repetition I attempt to communicate how insects are not a phobia, but rather a fascination.

SUSTAINABILITY

29

30

ISSUE 6

SUSTAINABILITY

31

GLENROCK

32

ISSUE 6

nishshanka weerasinghe

SUSTAINABILITY

33

BLACK LIVES kemar st. hill

When a black child is born regardless of wealth, or faith There is a real fear that exist for parents, knowing that their child whether good or bad, Tall or short could be subjected to prejudice, Prejudice breed through the ignorance of one generation to the next, Reinforced by an inexplicable fear that black is dangerous and dirty, Assumed to be uneducated and poor or of lower status, As a black child one of their ďŹ rst life lessons teaches them to be tough, Whether they build a tough exterior shell to protect themself, Or building a fortress inside, to defend their mind, So, when others throw inconsiderate or malicious intent They stand tall and unfettered, They are aware of the possibility that the very systems, through which they entrust their lives and futures, Could turn on them as quickly as their breath passes, Crushed under the very forces with which they entrust their safety, When asked whether they have experienced prejudice, They acknowledge the question as redundant, They all experience prejudice in some form, Some unaware of the malice, As it is hidden behind a calm demeanor or a pleasant greeting

â?Ś

34

ISSUE 7

ALLY gloria cheung

HEROES

35

UNTITLED

36

ISSUE 8

cassie lim

DREAMS

37

WAKING // MISSING jacqueline meldrum

I miss you every night when you fall asleep, my dear.

It is a sweet and dreadful thing.

My dreams are full of you: Full of Holding your body close to mine under blankets like a wood fire, Your facial features becoming a shining beacon of comfort in a pitch black room, The moon glowing against your skin.

StillThe memory of you fades and I Drift into uneasier sleep.

When I wake I move like water, soft and malleable for you.

I cannot shape myself into anything but yours, Cannot rest soundly without you, Cannot keep my heart inside my chest because It runs back into your arms at every chance, My love.

I wish you would come home so it could stop running so far.

I miss you every morning when I wake up, my dear.

It is a sweet but difficult thing.

My dreams are full to bursting, miniature worlds all made up of you, All bubbling over until they pop against the edges of the daylight.

Leaving me alone in empty sheets.

I can take comfort knowing that someday the daylight will only bring me closer to you lying beside me.

That thought is much easier to bear.

❦

38

ISSUE 8

Our favourite cover from Year 1, chosen by our Instagram followers!

Art by Diana Tran 39

Thank you to everyone who’s helped to lead, contribute and participate in WAT is Zine? to date.

These are just a few of the many folks who’ve helped keep this going :)

Matt Comeau Lily Roth Clara Xi Diana Tran Nevedha Ravi Diya Dadlani Sherry Wu Israh Choudhury Jasmeet Chahal Grace Benjaminsen Michelle Xie Michelle Chu Nelson Wu Victoria Shi Corbin Hawkins

Issue 9 October 2020 40